#the way he looks much softer it's KILLING ME
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This was so devastatingly sexy.....
First of all: LOVE the no-outbreak setting, I always enjoy reading about that softer pre-outbreak Joel getting to live his life without being so hardened by everything that happens to him in canon. Second: This taking place on and around Bill and Frank's wedding is such a stroke of genius, what a fun setting!
The tension between them is so apparent from the start, the way he calls her sweetheart, the way she's immediately wound up the moment he's in the room. (The way they're both touching themselves to the thought of the other, oof...)
The moment when she helps him with his buttons and his bowtie was SO good, I loved that they both had this sense of "Is this okay?" but couldn't help themselves.
Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and itâs like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. Youâve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again. Youâre done with your task, yet you canât bring yourself to step away. He doesnât eitherâfor seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. Youâre going to kiss him, just lean in a little further andâ The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.
I could just feel this đ©
You grab him before he can finish his sentence. âDonât Go Breaking My Heartâ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. Itâs been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. Itâs better than you ever couldâve imagined.
She's so brave for just going for it. It's so fun and refreshing.
And your Joel kills me his, âIf I canât make you come in ten minutes Iâll eat my own fist.â, âShit, sweetheart, sheâs soakinâ for me.â and âGotta relax, gotta lemme inââ, but ESPECIALLY
âThat how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?â He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. âOh, thatâs it.â
I love the ending so much, the way he pulls her in for "one final, saccharine sweet kiss", and thanks her, and the promise of more between them... wow. Thank you so much for writing and sharing!!
every breath you take
â (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader
â 5.3k words
â Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdadâs best man.
â Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frankâs adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)
â Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months đ) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33
June, 2013.
After months of planningâstress, sweat, and tears aboundingâthe big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.
With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soulâyou want this to be perfect.Â
Someone else shares your determination, too.
You wouldâve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dadâs. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldnât be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldnât be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Billâs best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. Heâs been turning this wedding into a âfriendlyâ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. Itâs infuriatingâespecially when he wears that smug grin thatâs become his signature expression around you. Itâs torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.
Itâs unintentional on his part, youâre sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exceptionâheâs dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like heâs been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.
Itâs wrong. The guyâs old enough to be your dad, and thatâs aside from the fact that heâs your soon-to-be-stepdadâs best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy whoâs old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yetâŠ
âMorninâ, sweetheart,â he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.
Youâve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now.Â
Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. âGood morning. I didnât know youâd be here this early.â
âWell, rehearsalâs as important as the weddinâ itself,â he dutifully repeats the line that youâve heard from your dad a million times over. âAnd this barn ainât gonna decorate itself.â
âWell, thatâs kinda my job,â you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you.Â
He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. âCanât let you have all the fun, can I?â
You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. âI appreciate the help.â
âAnytime, sweetheart.â He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.
The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decorâas long as this barn has been a wedding venue, youâre certain no oneâs ever made it look this good before.
The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.
Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal pointâan eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. Itâs definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bitâit was solely Joelâs vision. Apparently, heâs a lot more artistic than youâve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; youâve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they couldâ
You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you canât get yourself under control youâre going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the âthings you shouldnât be thinking about a middle-aged manâ category.
He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, thoughâŠ
Snap.
With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. Youâve finished with perfect timingâyouâve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.
You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but heâs nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldnât at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesnât have to answer to you. Itâs a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelingsâcan whatever youâre going through really be called that?âyour attraction, is one-sided. Heâs here for Bill and Frank, not for you. Youâre his best friendâs daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.
You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you canât even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isnât for him.
You avoid Joel the entire night, which isnât easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easierâboth Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so thereâs no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if heâs looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.
Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, heâs got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, youâre looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.
He puts it out of mind as much as he can. Heâs not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. Heâs not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. Heâs definitely not supposed to be wondering what youâre wearing under that adorable dress of yours. Youâre his best friendâs daughter, for godâs sake. Youâre so far off limits that he shouldnât even be looking in your general direction.
But he is. Heâs looking, and he canât stop looking. And most of all, he canât stop wondering if you feel it too.
Evidently you donât, because you wonât even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. Youâve probably figured out how much heâs been thinking about you and the kinds of things heâs been thinking, and youâre disgusted. Heâs just a dirty old man to you, surely.
Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as youâre through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about itâblissfully unaware that Joelâs doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.
You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.
No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.
You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel.Â
Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredibleâthereâs overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. Itâs almost overwhelming; thereâs way too many options.
After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.
âI was wondering when you were going to show up,â he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.
âDecided to sleep in a little,â you explain. âWhereâs Bill?â
âHe already had breakfast, heâs getting ready,â Frank explains. âJoel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we donât see each other before the wedding. Itâs bad luck, after all.â
You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because thatâs such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and functionâyouâre surprised he doesnât have you working off of a schedule, too.
A small, annoying part of your brain thinks itâs really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and youâve really got to stop thinking about him so much.
âHowâre you feeling?â You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.
âRelieved, honestly,â he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. âI finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.â
You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.
There have been a lot of times where youâve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life.Â
If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, itâs Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now itâs his turn to shine. Youâre not letting anything get in the way of thatâespecially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.
With a little more resolve in your mind, itâs easier to get ready for the main event.
Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get readyâbut when youâre ready, youâre a vision. Even though youâre not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning.Â
Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same.Â
With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts offâtheyâre doing more harm than good at this point.Â
You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dadsâthen you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.
Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, itâs surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.
Youâve never seen him quite so put together. Heâs normally a bit undoneâa symptom of being a long-time bachelorâbut today, heâs perfectly styled. The hair heâs been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. Heâs in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop himâto keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.
You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like âwow.â
âNeed help?â You offer before you can think better of it.
Thereâs a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.
Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you canât back down now. With a deep breathâyouâre so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologneâyou will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.
His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. âYou look⊠incredible.â
âSo do you,â you whisper. Just when you think youâre out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.
âThis too?â His warm brown eyes search yoursâhow could he ever expect you to say no?
âY-yeah. Sure.â You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tiedâall you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He couldâve easily done this himself; and yet he didnât. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins.Â
Maybe this whole song and dance isnât quite as unrequited as you originally thought.
Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and itâs like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. Youâve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again.
Youâre done with your task, yet you canât bring yourself to step away. He doesnât eitherâfor seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. Youâre going to kiss him, just lean in a little further andâ
The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.
âThere you are!â Frankâs got an untamable smile on his faceâhis hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything heâs ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. âWow, you two look amazing.â
âHey. Thanks.â Youâre fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your fatherâs happily ever after comes crashing in and youâve never felt so proud. âFirst look time?â
âYeah,â he confirms with a nod. âIs Billâ?â
âDressinâ,â Joel answers after clearing his throat. âIâll bring âim out when heâs done.â
âPerfect, thank you.â Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearanceâyouâve gotten under his skin. Good.
Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that youâre wearing much, but itâs enough that itâs jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.
Youâve never been so happy for two people before. Youâve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.
At some point, you become conscious of the fact that youâre holding Joelâs hand. You know you probably shouldnât, that you could get both of you in serious troubleâbut heâs not pulling away, so neither do you.
The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremonyâit passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. Youâve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. Youâre hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this dayâitâs nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.
Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure youâre still presentable. A couple tissues later and youâre good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.
Joelâs standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.
His breath seems to catch when he sees youâhe clears his throat before whispering, âHey.â
For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. Itâs just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.
âH-hey,â you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?
âI think it went pretty well,â he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if heâs nervous.
âIt was perfect,â you agree.
For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. Itâs right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You donât know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.
And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.
âYou really do look amazinâ,â he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. âI mean, you always do, butââ
You grab him before he can finish his sentence. âDonât Go Breaking My Heartâ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. Itâs been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. Itâs better than you ever couldâve imagined.
The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. Thereâs nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.
âW-we shouldnâtâŠâ he murmurs, but he doesnât dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.
âI want to,â you breathe against his lips. âDo you?â
âGod, yes.â
Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as heâs starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to âDonât Stand So Close to Meâ, strangely apt but also a reminder that you donât have time. You made this playlist yourselfâyou know that thereâs only three more songs after this one before youâre supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.
âJoelâŠâ you moan out. âJoel, we have to be quick.â
âHow quick?â He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.
âTen minutes at the very most.â
âShit,â he grumbles. He doesnât pull away thoughâif anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. âYou still wanna do this?â
As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you canât do that to Frank and Bill. âYou think ten minutes is enough time?â
âIf I canât make you come in ten minutes Iâll eat my own fist.â
It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.
Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. âJesus Christ, youâre gonna drive me crazy.â
The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. âThatâs the plan, sweetheart.â
You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. âItâs definitely working.â
âGood.â
You know this is territory that you probably shouldnât be crossing into, not when heâs twenty years older than you and heâs your new step-dad's best friend, but you canât be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.
âShit, sweetheart,â he grumbles against your lips. âSheâs soakinâ for me.â
âA-always is,â you gasp out.Â
His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.
âThat how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?â He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. âOh, thatâs it.â
âJoel, pleaseâŠâ Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you canât help it when heâs touching you like this. Itâs exactly what you need and he knows itâhe watches your face for every little indication that heâs doing a good job.
âPlease what?â He purrs quietly. âWhat do you need?â
You could go on like this for hours, youâre sureâand youâre sure heâd be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until thereâs nothing left in your head but his name.
The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.
âFuck me,â you plead. âNeed you.â
âItâs gonna be tight, sweetheart.â Youâd think he was being overly confident if you couldnât feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.
âThatâs okay. Please.â
âAlright, sweetheart.â In a flash heâs got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.
You canât help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. Heâs big. Thereâs no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry itâs not inside you already. Youâre devastated you donât have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until heâs begging to fill you.
Later, you remind yourself.
âStill sure about this?â He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitationâthe last thing he wants to do is to push you.
Youâve never wanted anyone more.
âYes,â you breathe. âPlease, Joel.â
âEasy, honey. Iâve gotcha.â The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slickâfor a moment, youâre mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. âGotta tell me if anythinâ doesnât feel good, âkay?â
âI will, I swear, just pleaseââ
The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretchâone that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.
âShit, sweetie,â he purrs, voice liquid gold. âGotta relax, gotta lemme inââ
You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hiltâthe feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lipsâyou can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. Itâs nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.
âGood?â He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.
You give him a shaky nod in response. âGood.â
The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know youâre in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutterâlittle breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if heâs tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.
You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. Youâre finding out that heâs a very intuitive and quick learnerâyou would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so.Â
The way his hips workâdriving him deeper than anyoneâs ever been; the way his fingers swirlâbringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark⊠it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.
âYâfeel like fuckinâ heaven,â he gasps out against your cheek. âNever gonna get enough.â
The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spineâyouâve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know heâs wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize youâve been coveting so deeply.
âJoelâŠâ You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs arenât cooperating.Â
âI know baby,â he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. âI know. Sâokay.â
Itâs too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.
âIâm gonnaââ
âYeah, go âhead,â he purrs breathlessly. âLemme feel it, come all over my cock.â
His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and thatâs all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. Itâs the best youâve ever feltâyou donât think youâll ever get enough of it, either.
âThatâs it honey, holy shitâŠâ He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. âW-where?â
For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if heâs about toâ
âInside,â you whine out after your moment of clarity. âPleaseââ
âShit,â he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. âYâsure?â
Youâre not even conscious of nodding your headâall you know is that you need him completely. âItâs safe. Promise.â
âAtta girl,â he whispers. âGonna leave you fuckinâ drippinâ, wonât be able to stop feelinâ it all nightââ
His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. Thereâs nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. Youâve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous manâs gorgeous face. Knowing that youâre the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.
He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. âChrist, honey⊠squeezinâ me so goddamn tight.â
âNot my fault youâre huge.â
He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. Itâs lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again youâre struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. Itâs like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.
The song outside changes to âEvery Breath You Takeâ, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.
âShit, Joel, weâve got to go.â
He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but thereâs hardly enough time to worry about that.
âHowâs my make-up?â
âPerfect, darlinâ. Not a thing outta place.â
âThank god for waterproof,â you chuckle as you straighten your dress.
His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirtâthereâs still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.
âWeâve gotta go,â you repeat when he halts by the door.
âJust a sec,â he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. âCome to my room wâme tonight.â
âOkay,â you promiseâyouâre surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.
âThank you.â Itâs genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.
He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesnât let it go until he absolutely has to.
â beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics
â Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!
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Comfort Time *â .â â§
Leo wasnât usually one to jump to conclusions. He prided himself on his patience and rational thinking. But two days without hearing from you? Cancelling plans to visit the lair without much explanation? That was enough to make him worry.
He tried to focus on his training, but his mind kept drifting to you. Eventually, he decided enough was enough. He needed to check on you.
Leo made his way to your apartment, slipping in through the window you always left slightly ajar for him.
The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. The second thing? The faint smell of chocolate and the pile of blankets on your couch. As he stepped closer, he saw you, curled up with a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach, looking pale and exhausted.
â(Y/N)?â Leo called softly, concern lacing his tone.
You peeked out from beneath the blankets, your eyes tired but softening when you saw him. âHey, LeoâŠâ
âWhatâs going on? Are you okay?â He knelt beside you, his blue eyes scanning your face.
You sighed, a bit embarrassed. âI didnât want to bother you. Itâs justâŠcramps. Theyâve been brutal this time around.â
Leoâs expression softened immediately. âWhy didnât you tell me? You know Iâm here for you, right?â
You gave a small shrug. âI didn't imagine it would get this bad....â
He shook his head, gently taking your hand. â Let me help.â
Without waiting for a response, Leo began tidying up your space, bringing you water, and making sure you were as comfortable as possible. He even sat beside you, offering to rub your lower back where you mentioned the pain was worst.
âNext time, call me,â he said softly. âWeâre a team, remember?â
You nodded, leaning against him. âThanks, Leo. Iâll remember.â
Raph wasnât known for his patience. So when you cancelled plans two days in a row without much of an explanation, it didnât take long for him to get annoyed. Heâd been looking forward to spending time with you, and now? Radio silence.
âForget this,â he muttered, grabbing his gear. âIâm goinâ over there.â
Raph made his way to your place, his frustration evident in the heavy way he climbed through your window. But as soon as he saw you curled up on the couch, surrounded by blankets, chocolate wrappers, and a heating pad, his irritation melted into concern.
â(Y/N)? What the fuck goinâ on?â he asked, his voice softer than usual.
You looked up, your face a mixture of relief and embarrassment. âRaph⊠I didnât think youâd come.â
âYeah, well, youâve been dodginâ me for two days. Thought maybe you were sick or somethinâ.â He crossed the room and knelt by the couch. âYou okay?â
You sighed, clutching the hot water bottle. âIâm on my period. The cramps are killing me this time.â
Raph blinked, then nodded. âGotcha.â
He stood up, looking around. âAlright, what do you need? More chocolate? Heat pad refilled? Name it.â
You smiled weakly. âJustâŠstay with me?â
ââCourse,â he said, sitting down beside you. Carefully, he pulled you into his side, letting you lean on him.
âYou shouldâve told me,â he grumbled. âI couldâve helped.â
âI didnât want to bother you,â you admitted.
Raph snorted. âBother me? Babe, Iâm your boyfriend. This is what Iâm here for.â
You couldnât help but smile, lifting your body a little and leaving a kiss on his lips.
Donnie wasnât one to panic easily, but your sudden cancellation of plansâand subsequent radio silenceâhad him pacing his lab. He tried to rationalize it. Maybe you were busy? Maybe you just needed some space?
But after two days, his worry got the best of him. He grabbed his gear and headed to your apartment, determined to find out what was going on.
When he arrived, he found you curled up on the couch, surrounded by blankets, an empty box of chocolates on the table, and a heating pad on your stomach.
â(Y/N)?â he called softly, stepping closer.
You opened your eyes, surprised to see him. âDonnieâŠwhat are you doing here?â
âI could ask you the same thing. Youâve been avoiding me,â he said, his voice filled with concern. âWhatâs going on?â
You sighed, feeling a bit guilty. âIâm sorry. Itâs justâŠperiod cramps. Theyâre really bad this time.â
Donnieâs eyes softened as he sat down beside you. âWhy didnât you tell me? I couldâve brought you something to help.â
âI didnât want to bother you,â you said with a small shrug.
He shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. â(Y/N), Iâd rather you bother me than suffer alone.â
He pulled out his phone, quickly researching natural remedies for cramps. âOkay, letâs see. I can make you some ginger tea, or maybe do some light massages to help with the pain.â
You chuckled softly. âYouâre amazing, Donnie.â
He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. âAnd youâre stubborn. But thatâs why we work.â
Mikey was the type to always look on the bright side, but after two days of cancelled plans and no response from you, even his patience was wearing thin.
âIâm goinâ to check on her,â he announced to his brothers, grabbing his skateboard.
When he arrived at your place, he found the window unlocked, just as you always left it for him. He slipped inside and immediately noticed the pile of blankets on your couch.
â(Y/N)?â he called softly.
You peeked out from under the blankets, your face pale. âMikeyâŠ?â
âBabe, whatâs goinâ on? Youâve been MIA for two days.â He plopped down beside you, his usual energy tempered by concern.
You sighed, hugging the heating pad closer. âIâm sorry. Iâve just been dealing with really bad cramps. Itâs been rough.â
Mikeyâs eyes widened. âCramps? Oh, dude, why didnât you call me? I wouldâve brought snacks, movies, whatever you needed!â
You smiled weakly. âI didnât want to bother you.â
âPfft, bother me? Girl, youâre my favorite person! Youâre supposed to bother me,â he said, grinning.
He quickly jumped into action, gathering pillows, refilling your water bottle, and even doing a goofy dance to make you smile.
By the time he settled beside you, you were laughing softly, your pain momentarily forgotten.
âYouâre the best, Mikey,â you said, leaning into him.
He wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. âNah, you are. Now, letâs get you feelinâ better, yeah?â
#reader#x reader#y/n#tmnt#tmnt x reader#bayverse tmnt x reader#f!reader#tmnt bayverse#bayverse leonardo#bayverse mikey#donnie bayverse#bayverse donnie#bayverse raphael#x period reader
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đ Sway with Me đ
Pairing: Zander Netherbrand x Reader
Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, no defined relationship
Notes: Very much inspired by this clip
Words: 1.9k
You sit at the bar of Club Netherbrand, just enjoying your drink. You figured it was time for a night out, instead of just sitting at home for once, however now that youâre here, youâre not quite sure what to do with yourself. None of your friends had time to tag along, and youâre not really the type to chat up strangers, leaving you with nothing to do aside from occasionally sipping from the drink you ordered.
Usually you chat up the Zander when you come here on your nights out, but you havenât really had the opportunity for that today. Every once in a while you catch a glimpse of him among the crowd, checking in with people and having small chats with patrons here and there. Youâre not sure heâs even noticed that youâre here tonight, so instead you just resort to observing other people, hoping youâll be able to catch his attention sooner or later.
Your eyes keep wandering over to the people enjoying themselves on the dance floor. Dancing has never really been your thing. Youâre a little too clumsy for that and your feet never quite want to do what your brain is telling them to do. But you canât deny that it looks pretty fun for the people who do have it figured out.
âWhat do you say to having a little dance yourself?â Zander's voice catches you off guard. You didn't even see him approach, but now heâs standing right in front of you, grinning down at you. He extends his hand out towards you. âCome on, Iâll even join you! Itâll be fun, I promise.â
Youâre a little surprised by his offer, not quite sure how to respond. âI appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I can't actually dance. Iâm probably better off just watching from here⊠But you go ahead!â You stammer, avoiding his gaze. You almost expect Zander to wander off and just ask someone else instead â After all, thereâs probably plenty of people who would kill for a dance with Zander Netherbrand himself â, but to your surprise, he takes a step closer towards you.
âIt's alright, you don't need to know how to dance, I promise,â he assures you with a warm smile. âAll you have to do is let me guide you, and I promise I'll handle the rest.â
You feel a bit nervous. Youâre really not the type to dance, but itâs hard to say no to Zander, especially with the way heâs looking at you expectantly.
âPlease?â He adds, his voice a touch softer. Itâs just the right amount of soft to melt away your inhibitions.
You sigh and down the last bit of your drink. âAlright, maybe one dance wonât hurtâŠâ You reach out and place your hand in his, allowing Zander to pull you out of your seat. âBut you better be prepared to have your toes stepped on⊠This is your warning,â you add, as the demon leads you towards the dance floor.
Zander chuckles. âNoted. I wonât mind, I promise.â
The dance floor is a little crowded, so you try to stick close to him, clinging onto his arm so you wonât get separated. Zander gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. He leads you towards a more secluded spot where there's enough space for the two of you to dance without the danger of bumping into anyone else.
âThis is a good spot, donât you think, darling?â He asks, smiling down at you. You nod, suddenly feeling a little shy as it dawns on you that thereâs no way out now â Youâll really have to dance.
You're not quite sure what to do with yourself, so you glance up at Zander, hoping that heâll offer you some guidance.
âWeâll then, letâs get started, shall we?â Zander asks, turning to face you. He takes one of your hands and lifts it up slightly, while placing the other on the small of your back, pulling you just a little closer. Youâve never realized how much bigger his hands are in comparison to yours. Itâs enough to fully envelop yours, while his other hand almost covers all of your lower back.
But you donât have too much time to think about it. Because Zanderâs voice catches your attention.
âNow⊠You'll just have to sway to the music, darling,â he says, almost startling you with how close his voice is to your ear. You feel his breath against your skin, and part of you starts to freak out about how close you are to him right now.
You feel a gentle tug on your arm as Zander begins moving to the song playing in the background. Itâs slow and calm, almost a little romantic. Youâre a little hesitant at first, but quickly try to move along to the music, adjusting your movements to Zanderâs. You donât really know what youâre doing, but just swaying with him seems easy enough.
You keep going like this for a bit, until Zander pulls away just enough to look at you, not stopping his movements.
âYouâre doing great, darling,â he says, a little smile gracing his lips. âNow, letâs pick up the difficulty just a little, alright? Move your feet a little. Small steps, back and forth.â He starts moving his feet in tune with the music, and you try your best to follow based on his instructions. Zander hums. âJust like that, youâre doing amazing.â
Your feet still feel clumsy, unwilling to work with the rest of your body. But Zander seems pleased with your performance so far, so you allow yourself to keep going, letting your movements get a little bolder.
You almost feel like youâve got the hang of it when you take a slightly bigger step and feel a foot trapper underneath yours. You freeze up immediately, uttering a thousand apologies under your breath. Youâre prepared to pull away and just stop with the dancing for the rest of the night â or the rest of forever, really â, but you feel Zanderâs grasp around you tighten just slightly. Not enough to hurt you, but just enough to stop you from running away.
You glance up at his face to find him looking back down at you with a smile, not bothered by your misstep in the slightest.
âItâs alright, darling,â he reassures you, âI donât mind it in the slightest. Youâll get the hang of this sooner than you think, I promise.â His tone is so soft, so gentle, that you canât help but feel a rush of calm come over you, melting away the anxiety that had frozen up your entire body just mere seconds ago.
You try to get back into the rhythm again, more careful of where youâre stepping this time, but itâs like the magic is gone. Your body feels so stiff all of a sudden, itâs hard to keep focusing on the music and you grow increasingly frustrated with yourself.
âYouâre thinking too much, darling.â Zanderâs voice pierces through your thoughts, pulling you out of them. âDonât let your brain be in charge of what your body is doing. Just let yourself move,â he tries to gently instruct you.
You look up at him, worry clearly painted over your face. âBut what if I step on your feet again? What if I mess up? What if I-â
âYouâre learning. Itâs fine if you mess up a little along the way,â Zander interrupts you. His thumb rubs small circles into your back in an attempt to soothe you. âTake a deep breath and just let yourself be guided by the music⊠And by me. Youâll be okay, I promise.â
You try to push away all of your thoughts, looking for something to focus on. Your mind wanders back to Zanderâs hand on your back. The way his warmth seeps into you through that spot, the way his movements are so rhythmic and calm, like itâs second nature to him. You zero in on that feeling, allowing it to guide your own movements.
It makes it easier to stop thinking so much about what youâre doing. You push your worries aside and allow yourself to just be right in that moment, with nothing around you but Zander and the music.
Before you know it, the song is over, and the music switches to something a little livelier.
âSee? You did amazing,â Zander says, giving you a wide grin.
You smile back at him. Your heart is still pounding and your mind feels like it isnât quite there yet, but more than anything, you feel a rush of happiness. âI figured it out, somehow,â you say, barely able to contain the excitement in your voice. âWell, it was mostly you guiding me, really, but-â
âHey now, it wasnât all me, you did great as well, darling,â Zander interrupts you. âYou learned quickly and figured it out. Dare I say, I think youâre a natural. You can be proud of yourself.â He gently squeezes your hand and smiles.
âSo, would you like to go for another round?â
âSure!â The word slips out before you even have time to consider it. But thereâs no time to hesitate, as Zanderâs grip around you tightens once more and he starts moving again. Youâre okay with it. Now that you donât have to worry so much about what youâre doing, youâre starting to enjoy yourself.
This new song is a little more difficult to keep up with, but you try your best to just move along with the music. You still mess up here and there, but Zander takes all the times you step on his feet in stride, never once making you feel bad about it.
âHey⊠Wanna try something out?â Zander asks with a grin. Youâre not quite sure what he wants to do, but you just give a small nod, and before you know it, Zander lifts up your arm and gives you a small twirl, then catches you again with a small chuckle.
Youâre a little surprised, but once your brain has processed what just happened, you join in on his laughing.
âWhat was that?â You ask in between laughs.
Zander shrugs, laughing as well. âI was just testing your newfound skill⊠Iâd say you did quite well. Good job, darling.â
You dance to a few more songs like together, and you have the time of your life. Suddenly, dancing is the easiest thing in the world. Itâs like you and Zander grow more in tune the longer you keep going, until you almost feel like youâre flying across the dance floor with him.
Eventually, exhaustion gets to you and you have to take a break. Zander leads you off the dance floor, his hand still holding yours.
âWasnât that fun?â He asks, softly smiling down at you.
âIt was,â you admit, returning his smile. âOnce I figured it out, I really enjoyed myself⊠Thank you for teaching me.â You lean in for a small side-huge, to which Zander responds by pulling you closer for one of his bear hugs.
âIt was my pleasure, darling,â he says, parting just enough to look at you while still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. âIf you ever want to have another dance, donât hesitate to ask. Iâd love to steal you away to the dance floor again some time.â
You have a feeling youâll take him up on that offer. But for now, youâll need to take some time to recover.
#zander netherbrand#zanny#first stage production en#avallum#netherfiction#zander Netherbrand x reader#avallum x reader#vtubers#male vtuber
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No se olvidaron de mis flores amarillas... đđđđđ
#guys I'm so ill I'm so ill I'm gonna lose it fr rhis time#when I saw this I started kicking and almost cried#thank you hunni I love you I'm so proud of u for this art it looks so beautiful wiwiiwwi đ„șđ„șđ„ș#omg.... where do I even start#k..j.k.k.kk.kkkkaalleii.....iilkkskjddjjfbdb!_!#gosh... he looks so beautiful LOOK AT HIS PRETTY FACE AND EYES AND HAIR AND WIWIWI#I already said this but. he looks older and a little more chubby and I'm đđđđđđđđđđđ#Kalei the man you are#I have my keyboard to compare the art from last year and omg....#the way he looks much softer it's KILLING ME#I'm gonna be gaying with this for at least a weak yall better be prepared to see me thinking of my number one husband#he is so husband material omgomgomg I wanna kiss him so bad I wanna brush his hair#I'm so cringe rn but it's ok I was born to be cringe and I finally accepted it đ«#HIS STUBBLE OMG.... that's one of my favorite things of him#how messy and tired he looks. bet he would be so pretty laying down and taking a moment to breath for once in his life#I'm kissing his entire face and hands rn yall have a goodnight#(âĄâ ) ïœĄâ .ïŸââ Kalei Mauve#â ââ Nero!!!
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ive spent like 20 minutes trying to world this eloquently but i give up; im a big fan of linebeck just. not being capable of watching over kids not the person to be the guardian of a group of young people he struggles to take care of himself at times and has so much shit going on that it takes about one conversation with oshus for the old man to realize that this guy is. not doing great
#this was gonna be like. a jokey post at first juxtaposing oshusâ expectations vs reality with linebeck but im too emotionally drained#so real linebeck talk in the tags bc idk if ive actually talked much abt like. the specific as on why. iwrite and see him the way i do#likr. off the bat i put him at like 19 in ph and im too fucking tired and just. done rn to justify that like whatever kill me if you wish.#like. hes. been throught a lit hes been abused neglected used ignored hurt ridiculed violated deceived hes so fucking tired#hes worn down over the course of ph it causes him to finally like. express his anguish over what hes been theough its cathartic#hes getting pushed but talking to oshus and being around link loosens him up and he fucking. cries properly yknow#he cries about everything and the last bit of ph hes kind of an emotional wreck but hes finally letting himself feel all that shit#he cries he struggles to articulate himself he has a violent public meltdown as he becomes fed up with his reputation#and it all culminates in bellumbeck just. being a really raw examination of what hes been through and how he feels and what to do now#he hates people he has people he wants to kill people he wanted to kill but after bellumbeck its just. hes tired. hes processed everythjng#and then he needs the post ph crew and everyone they meet along the way to just. be a fucking support system for the first time ever#like post ph hes rhe captain he runs the ship he keeps everyone in line he can do that. but hes softer more vulnerable more self doubting#hes kinder and more hesitant but trying new things and being more openly passionate abt his interests#and he keeps working through his trauma he finds out what else it causes problems for and everyone. supports him#hes not capable of like. being any kind of parental figure to link in ph his perspective on like. how to handle kids is fucked#because his perspective on what a normal childhood should look like is kind of a mess#his perspective on relationships is murky on love on adventure on self expression but post ph hes just. free. tired but free#he manages to take naps the group helps him eat properly he learns his physical boundaries and actually does what he loves#idk. im just. man idk. its still measy but like. my version of linebeck is. i really hate the idea that its so out of character its not him#like. idfk what to even say abt that. idfk what âin characterâ looks like when you hc a character to be masking in canon#when you hc them to be lying and covering things up and just. subdued bc theyre working on stuff#that they lie and exaggerate their own traits on purpose but let the truth through some cracks like what rhe fuck then#i hate it bc i dont see anyone else think of linebeck anything like this so im scared im fucking wrong somehow#im tired. i recently learned that one of my cats has been burrowing under and chilling under a blanket we cover a couch with#its very cute
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megumi x reader (just him getting scolded đ)
"ah, crap," megumi muttered under his breath, his eyes widening as he recognized the signature brand and color.
there it is. your favorite lipstickâwhatâs left of it, anyway. the perfect, hard-to-find shade you hunted down last year and wore almost daily, crushed and smeared against the countertop in a sad, waxy smear.
the tube lies in his hand, twisted all the way up, and he looks at it like itâs a bomb he doesnât know how to defuse.
the realization of the situation sinking in him, along with a growing sense of dread.
"no, no, no," he murmured, a hint of panic in his voice.
"this isn't good. baby is gonna kill me." he held the broken pieces delicately, mentally preparing himself for the worst.
as you enter the room, that was the first thing you see.
you fold your arms and stare at him as your irritation bubbles up to the surface.
"please tell me you didn't."
"do you even know how hard it was to find that shade? that exact shade?"
he shrinks a little under your gaze, glancing between you and the ruined lipstick as if heâs trying to figure out a way to put it back together.
âi thought⊠maybe i could⊠buy you a new one?â
you let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at the smudged remains of the lipstick.
part of you wants to keep fuming, let him see just how much it mattered, but something in his expressionâthe way heâs genuinely upset, almost like heâs let you downâmakes it harder to hold on to the anger.
he doesn't look at you as he says, "i'm so sorry, baby" (his expression being the accurate representation of the "âčïž" emoji)
you let out another sigh, softer this time. âjust⊠be more careful, okay?â
he nods solemnly, and you canât help but notice how he still wonât meet your eyes.
gosh, he is such a baby.
#jjk imagines#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#jjk x black reader#jjk fluff#jjk x fem reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro fluff#megumi imagines#megumi x reader#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro imagines#megumi fluff#megumi drabbles#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi x black reader#megumi x fem reader#megumi x you#megumi imagine#megumi headcannons#anime drabbles#anime headcannons#anime imagines#anime#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu megumi#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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The Devil in Me
Kinktober Day 9 | Haechan Masterlist | Member Masterlist
tags: loss of virginity, first time, oral sex, marking, biting, possessive/protective Haechan, mentions of human sacrifice, demons, a lot softer/romantic than it sounds
length: 8293
Maybe you should have heeded the warnings of your friends and family, but youâd thought it was all just a bit of small-mindedness and prejudice.Â
When you started seeing a guy who was a loud and proud satanist, your friends and family had all told you that he would be bad news. But youâd done some research into the belief system of satanists, and it wasnât inherently evil, as they all seemed to believe. And you liked this guy, he was charming and handsome and he spoke to you like you were his everything, that you were someone special to him.Â
And now, in your present position, you can see that you were in fact someone special to him.Â
You were his virgin sacrifice.Â
It had been a mistake to tell him that you were a virgin. You couldâve fed him some other excuse for why you didnât want to have sex, but youâd gone with the truth. And now look where it got you.Â
Heâd brought you out into the woods on the premise of a night hike, stargazing, camping and keeping each other warm beside a campfire. But now you were strapped to a wooden table in the middle of a circle of fire in the woods, and he was pacing in circles around you, chanting words and drawing symbols on his bare chest in either red paint or some kind of blood.Â
Heâd already given you the evil villain speech. This was a ritual to summon a demon heâd read about â a chaos demon who could grant him wealth and talent by stealing it from others. He was going to sacrifice you and blah blah blah. Youâd stopped listening after a while. The straps on your wrists were so tight that you were losing feeling in your fingertips. Your ankles were tied down too, and you could see no way out of this, resigned to your fate.Â
All you know is that if he kills you, youâre going to haunt the shit out of him.Â
When he stops his pacing, when the chanting slows, you close your eyes and send a prayer out to anyone listening to save you.Â
The asshole teases you with your own death. He trails his hunting knife from your neck down between your breasts, slicing apart your shirt as he goes.Â
Your shirt falls open, and he returns the blade to your throat. You refuse to make a sound, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.Â
âLook at me!â He yells, his hand gripping your chin. âI want you to watch.â
Your eyes fly open, and you stare this asshole in the eye, putting as much hatred and vitriol in your gaze as you can.Â
He grins, trailing the knife lower, and with a flick of his wrist, he gives you a shallow cut just above your left breast. You can see the first drops of your blood well up to the surface. His eyes light up, the chant falling from his lips again as he lifts his hand and the blade, drawing them up into the air over the center of your chest.Â
Heâs going to plunge it into your heart, thatâs something he said during his monologue.Â
You suck in a breath, watching his hand, watching the moonlight glint off the blade.Â
He swings.Â
And a tan hand curls around his wrist, halting the movement.Â
âI donât think so,â a smooth voice says.Â
You watch the hand on your would-be murdererâs wrist. The hand guides his, redirecting the path of his blade, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the blade draws across his throat. You try to tune out the wet choking sound as your would-be murderer collapses, as he pulls himself away through the grass and the brush, as he dies the ugly death he would have given to you.Â
You open your eyes when you can no longer hear him struggling to survive, and you see before you a beautiful, beautiful demon.Â
His eyes glow a deep red. Two black horns stick out from his black hair. Ragged black wings jut out from his shoulders. And heâs beautiful. Devastatingly handsome.Â
The summoning ritual worked.Â
The fight for survival comes racing back through you, and you jerk against your bonds, crying out, screaming for help. Youâll not have your soul taken by a demon. Thatâs not happening tonight!
âDonât be afraid,â he says calmly, âIâm not here to hurt you.â
With a wave of his hand, the bonds on your wrists snap, your ankles suddenly are freed as well. You sit up, clutching at the sides of your shirt to pull them together over your chest. The demon looks at you, and then turns his head to the side towards where you last heard that bastard's dying breaths fade away.Â
âSome humans are real assholes, yknow?â The demon says, still not looking at you. âThey think we all want sacrifices, which, donât get me wrong, they can be nice from time to time, but we donât demand the murder of virgins. We certainly donât demand unwilling pretty women be murdered in the woods.â
He spits towards what you can only assume is the dead body of your would-be murderer. And then the demon looks back at you, eyes aglow.Â
âIâm Haechan,â he introduces himself, holding his hand out to you. âBut you can call me Donghyeok.âÂ
You hesitate for a moment, uncertain if you should give him your name or shake his hand. You feel like youâve heard stories about how bad doing either of those things could be. But in the end, itâs the way that the corner of his mouth tilts up as he watches you that convinces you.Â
You put your hand in his, and you give him your name.Â
Donghyeok lifts your hand, brushing his lips across your knuckles. âPleased to have saved you.âÂ
Your pulse throbs in your veins, pounding in your ears.Â
An actual demon is holding your hand, standing before you smelling like sea air and citrus rather than the burning brimstone stories would have you believe. Donghyeok lowers your hand, and you pull it back into your lap.Â
âThat guy seemed like a dick.â Donghyeok turns away, shaking his wings as he walks over to the nearest flickering ground torch. He continues talking while he extinguishes that torch, saying, âVery bossy in his summoning chant. I probably wouldâve ended up killing him even if he wasnât trying to murder you. How did you end up here, anyway?â
âI was stupid.â You droop forward, hanging your head as you look down at your knees. âI let him trick me into thinking he was a good guy despite all the warnings from everyone around me. I thought they were just prejudiced since he was a Satanist, but they were right.â You risk a glance in Donghyeokâs direction. âI shouldnât have ever told him Iâm a virgin, I was basically just asking to get sacrificed in a demonic ritual.â
Donghyeokâs wings flare as he turns to look at you. âDonât say that. Donât ever blame yourself for the actions of a stupid man. He is the one that did this, not you.âÂ
He extinguishes two more torches before either of you speak again.Â
âVirgin sacrifices donât actually mean, like sexual virginity, yknow?â Donghyeok says, his back facing you while he puts out another torch. Now only four of them remain lit in the circle. âItâs virgin blood. Blood thatâs never been used for a ritual before. As soon as he cut you, I felt the call, and I saw what he was going to do to you. Iâm tired of men killing women with the excuse of summoning me. I just require a few drops of blood to be spilled, not a life taken.â
Donghyeok waves his wings, and three more torches flicker out, leaving just one glowing right in front of you, providing just enough light to see by as Donghyeok strides back to you. His bloody red eyes sweep over you from head to toe.Â
âWhat are you going to do to me?â You can tell your voice is small, nearly lost in the whisper of wind through the trees. But Donghyeok hears, and he cocks his head slightly to the side to watch you.Â
âHavenât you been listening?â He reaches up, snapping his fingers together and drawing a handkerchief out of thin air. âIâm not here to do anything to you. I came to rescue you from that asshole, and now youâre free.â He holds the handkerchief out to you.Â
âSo youâre just going to leave me here?â You accept the silky white cloth, and you find one corner of it embroidered with flowy script â LDH, it says, and you run your thumb over the fine threads making up the letters.Â
âI didnât say I was leaving you.â He smiles, and again, your pulse thunders. âWe can go, or we can stay here and have sex.â
A squawk of surprise and indignation leaves you, which makes Donghyeok laugh. And fuck, you thought he was beautiful before, the sight and sound of his genuine laughter makes him even more beautiful.Â
âIâm joking!â He keeps laughing, his shoulders shaking as he tries to hold it in while he speaks, âBut I can get you out of here in a snap so you donât have to hike back through these woods in the dark.âÂ
âPlease!â You reach out, grabbing both of his hands, holding them between yours. âPlease, get me out of here.â
Donghyeokâs expression goes serious. âI will, I promise. And what about him?âÂ
You begin to turn your head to look, but you change your mind, keeping your gaze fixed on this beautiful demon. You shake your head. âLeave him. The police can deal with him, Iâll report the crime when I get back to town.â
Donghyeok watches you for a moment, contemplating something. Then he shrugs, holds tighter to your hands, and you feel a tug behind your navel.Â
The scenery around you has changed.
Youâre still in the woods, but just at the edge of it. You can see the lights of town just ahead through the trunks.Â
âHere, letâs at least make it look like youâve run back here.â Donghyeok crouches down, filling his hand with soft dirt. âMay I?â
Youâre not entirely sure what youâre agreeing to, but you nod. Immediately, Donghyeok is touching you, spreading dirt over your clothes, a smear of mud along the torn open edge of your shirt. He runs his fingers through your hair (which shouldnât feel as good as it does). He plucks some twigs and leaves, sticking them haphazardly in your hair, dangling from a new rip at the bottom of your shirt.Â
He takes a step back to appreciate his handiwork, then nods, satisfied.Â
You both stand there looking at each other for a moment, and finally you say, âThank you.â
Donghyeok nods. âYou didnât deserve what that asshole was going to do to you. None of them ever do deserve it. He, however, deserved everything he got, and everything heâs going to get when I get back to Hell.â
âThank you,â you repeat because you mean it, and there are no words more genuine that you can think to say. âReally, Donghyeok, thank you.â
You turn towards the lights of town. Youâre going to the police, filing a report, making sure they know that that bastard tried to kill you, and he's the reason heâs dead.Â
âOne thing before you go!â Donghyeok steps in front of you. You look up at him just as he reaches out and puts his hand on your right shoulder. His hand burns hot and then hotter through your shirt, and you hiss in pain, trying to draw away, but Donghyeok holds on, only releasing you once the pain begins to fade into a tingle.Â
âThatâs all. See you around.â
And then the demon disappears into a shadowy mist.Â
You stand there for a moment before you pull yourself back together, and you walk into town, straight for the police station.Â
They believe the story, which is good since most of it is true. Only part of it is fictionalized: when you say that you managed to slip the bonds heâd had on your wrists, the part where you wrestled the knife from him, where youâd cut him across the throat and then run miles back to town through the woods. But the story is believable because the facts and evidence are all there â the police trek through the woods and find the site of the ritual, find his body, find a blade that somehow has your fingerprints; they find plans in his apartment, records of messages between him and others, of his search history on how to summon a demon and how to perform a virgin sacrifice.Â
When you finally leave the police station, returning home under the care of your family and friends, you finally get a moment to yourself in the shower.Â
You peel off your pants and socks, drag your shirt over your head, slip off your panties and bra, and then you look at yourself in the mirror.Â
Black inky lines that werenât there before these events are there now. You twist, angling better towards the mirror to be able to see what appears to be a whole tattoo that you never got.Â
A sunflower curves from front to back over your shoulder and down onto your arm.Â
You brush your fingers over the petals, feeling your skin tingle in a not unpleasant way. It sends a curl of warmth into your belly, makes your heart pound.Â
Itâs Donghyeok, you know it is.Â
This is his mark, left on you.Â
The next time you see him, itâs too brief for your liking.Â
Thereâs a street festival, sort of like a carnival in town, and you spend hours down there one day as afternoon turns to evening turns to night. It brings all the weirdos out, from your town and those surrounding. You stick close to your friends, you have fun, you spend too much money on greasy food and rigged carnival games, you flirt with a cute carnie to get the big stuffed teddy bear prize.Â
Your friends decide to ride the Ferris wheel, but your mild fear of heights and the lure of a big pink cloud of cotton candy call to you instead. Youâll stay here feet firmly on the ground, enjoying your cotton candy, and watching them take a turn on the giant wheel.Â
But first you have to find the cotton candy booth.Â
Youâre carrying your teddy prize like itâs a toddler, hoisted up to sit on your hip. Youâre still rather pleased with yourself for having flirted it out of the carnie, even though youâre not quite sure what youâre going to do with it, and carrying it around for the rest of the night is possibly going to become a bit of a hindrance.Â
You cut between two game booths, slipping into the shadowed path that runs along the backs of the games, like an alley between the ring toss games facing one way and the basketball and shooting games facing the other. The cotton candy booth is visible at the end.Â
You have to step over wires, bags of vacuum-sealed prizes, a crate thatâs surrounded by cigarette butts. The dings and chimes, alarm sounds and cries of joy all sound muffled, leaving you feeling a bit apart from the carnival despite being right in the heart of it.Â
A figure melts out of the shadows, suddenly keeping perfect stride with you.Â
You gasp, twisting around with the bear between you and this shadow-born devil.Â
âMe again,â Donghyeok laughs.Â
Heâs got his hands tucked into his pockets. The devil horns are concealed by a hood. Heâs wearing a leather jacket that has black wings stitched into the back panel. He could pass for normal, you think as your heart settles back into a more normal rhythm, if only his eyes werenât still a deep red with his pupils reflecting light like an animalâs eyes at night.Â
âDonghyeok.â You almost collapse against the back of one of the game tents.Â
His lips curl around the sound of your name. You like the sound of that â his voice, your name.Â
You just stand there staring at him for a moment, amazed that heâs actually here. In the days after your near-sacrifice, youâd almost convinced yourself that Donghyeok had been nothing more than a figment of your imagination used to soften the trauma of that night a little. But here he is again. Real. In the flesh.Â
âAre you keeping out of trouble?â He asks, and when you nod, he scoffs. âBut youâre back here walking by yourself? Do you know what kinds of people are drawn to work these carnivals? The transient lifestyle calls to some pretty awful people.â He turns to look back along the path youâve been walking in this makeshift alleyway.Â
Several feet back, thereâs a slumped over figure where there hadnât been before. And the longer you look, the more you realize itâs that cute carnie that had given you the bear.
âDonât worry, baby, Iâve got your back.â Donghyeok pats your right shoulder, his skin hot against yours. âYou should get back to your friends before they start worrying. Here, this is for you.âÂ
Out of thin air, he draws a large fluffy pink cotton candy, holding it out to you.Â
Donghyeok escorts you back towards your friends, and he blends in with the crowd, looking perfectly human except for his eyes. His shoulder bumps against yours. He chatters and laughs with you. You find it so curious the way that your heart skips each time you look at him.Â
Hours later, once youâre safely ensconced at home, you notice that the center of your sunflower marking on your shoulder is darker than it used to be, almost like youâd gotten it shaded in.Â
Donghyeok again, youâre sure.Â
You recall his hand on your shoulder, the gentle but pleasant burn of his skin on yours.Â
You turn your head, resting your cheek against your shoulder. The center of the sunflower is warm against your cheek.Â
A few weeks later, youâre certain your family thinks youâre crazy. Youâve not seen Donghyeok again since that night at the carnival, and honestly, youâre beginning to feel very Bella Swan in New Moon about the situation. Youâre about to start throwing yourself into harmâs way just to see if Donghyeok will make an appearance to save you; although, you have a strong suspicion that if he knew you were doing dangerous things intentionally, he would make a point of not showing up.Â
So, instead of trying to cross paths with dangerous men (again), you decide to go to the library and local bookstores and pull any books you can find on how to summon a demon. You do research online, printing out pages and pages of summoning rituals. Youâve got a whole wall of your bedroom dedicated to the stuff.
âThere is something very wrong with you,â your dad says one afternoon when he sees it all. âYou survived that satanist dick. Why would you put yourself through this?â
Youâre pretty sure your family and friends think youâre doing this to torture yourself. You can tell theyâre all worried for you, all of them concerned about what path youâre taking.
But youâre not diving headfirst into satanism or anything like that really. You just want to summon one demon in particular â a chaos demon named Haechan who has asked you personally to call him Donghyeok.
You seek out a different ritual than the one performed when you first met him. You donât want to have to sacrifice a virgin even if it only means a few drops of voluntary blood; that veers too close to the sacrifice youâd almost found yourself to be in the woods.Â
Eventually, you find a source online that suggests a few specific crystals, certain herbs, fire and chalk and a spell in a language that youâll have to teach yourself. But it seems doable. You just have to find a shop for all of those things, and then youâll summon Donghyeok. You just want to see him again. Youâre drawn to him, and maybe itâs because he saved you so youâve got some weird type of twist on Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe itâs this sunflower he marked on your shoulder, the roots itâs put down inside you making you want to see him more and more, thirsting for him like a desert plant in a drought.Â
You find a shop perfectly suited to your needs. The woman running the place seems quirky enough that you donât have any qualms about telling her everything â what youâre looking for, how youâre going to use it, why youâre using it â and youâre obsessed with the gleeful twinkle in her eye as she dances around the shop, gathering the items youâve listed, plucking them from dark corners, from a bay of windows, from bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling.Â
âI do have to warn you,â she says as she carefully packs it all into a bag for you, her voice dipping towards a serious tone to say, âSome demons are always listening for a call, even if itâs not for them, especially when itâs a pretty girl like you calling with almost no taint in your blood. Just know, dear, that when you call for your demon, someone else might try reaching through. So be careful when you speak the spell. Clear pronunciation, clear focus and determination.â
She pats your hand tenderly before you leave, and she wishes you well.Â
You set up the ritual in your bedroom. You push all the furniture out of the center of the room, roll back the rug that usually covers the floor beneath your bed. You sketch out the symbols in chalk on the hardwood floor, you set up the crystals exactly according to the diagram on the website, placing candles exactly right too. You scatter herbs across the pentagram, sprinkle a few in a bowl set in the center of the ritual space, and finally you kneel beside it.Â
You clear your mind except for thoughts of Donghyeok, your wish to have him in front of you, and you begin speaking the words youâve been practicing since you found them.Â
Before, theyâve felt like hollow words, but now as they fall from your lips thereâs a new weight to them.Â
You continue, keeping your mind set, and you strike a match, watch the flame flicker and wave as you continue speaking the spell, the foreign words feeling strange on your lips and tongue, creating a tingle that makes you feel that this must be working, that youâll be able to see Donghyeok again.Â
You drop the match into the bowl of crushed herbs in the center of the pentagram. The bowl is instantly engulfed in flame, the heat kissing your cheeks, and the final words of the spell incinerate in the air, the flames crackling and flashing a solid purple for a moment.Â
You feel the air from the room disappear as the fire swirls and sparks, as the candle flames around the circle shoot up elongated and casting shadows. The crystals crack and shimmer.
And when it all falls away, when the flame in the bowl extinguishes and the candles resume their normal flame size, you look up at the demon standing above you.Â
Itâs not him.Â
You gasp, falling back on your hands.Â
The demon is fearsome, brutish. He reaches for you, gnarled red fingers clawed with filthy talons. You scramble backwards as he grabs for your sleeve, tearing the fabric when you jerk backwards.Â
Suddenly the demon releases you and stands straight within the pentagram.Â
âHaechanâs mark?â He utters in a garbled, deep voice straight from the pits of Hell. âYou are under Haechanâs protection?â
A sharp whistle from across your bedroom draws your attention and that of the hideous demon in front of you.Â
Donghyeok sits on your bed, looking relaxed as ever. He cocks his head to the side, staring down this other demon. âThatâs right. Sheâs under my protection, so get the fuck out.â
Donghyeok flicks his fingers, and the other demon vanishes in a wave of smoke and embers.Â
You canât look away from Donghyeok lounging on your bed like itâs his throne. Heâs wearing that leather jacket again, though right now his devil horns are visible poking through his dark hair. Youâve missed looking at him.Â
He looks at you now too. âYou called?â
âI wanted to see you,â you tell truthfully.Â
âWhy?â Donghyeok asks, not moving from the bed, just sitting there and watching you.Â
âWell why did you mark me?â You lift your fingers to the flower on your shoulder, brushing your fingers over the petals.Â
Across the room, Donghyeokâs eyelids flutter, and he rolls his head on his neck a little as if to relieve tension. âI marked you because I want you to be safe. I knew if any other demons saw my mark on you, they would leave you alone, as just evidenced.â He gestures at the pentagram. âAnd because I wanted you to have something to remember me by. And I like the thought of you wearing a memory of me.â
You stroke the petals of the flower again, and Donghyeok sits up on the edge of your bed, sitting forward.Â
âThe flower changed the last time I saw you.â You draw your finger up to the center, darker now than it had been when Donghyeok first marked you the night you met. âThe center has color now.â
âI know.â He leans forward, but doesnât leave your bed, though he seems to just be hanging onto the very edge of it. He doesnât explain more, just looks at you as if waiting for more.Â
You climb to your feet, picking your way through the candles and crystals and herbs, and you come to stand just in front of Donghyeok. He raises his gaze to your face, his hands are planted on either side of his thighs, and he doesnât say a word as you reach out a hand, as you first touch his cheek with just your fingertips, and then you move them along his jaw, up into his hair.Â
Donghyeokâs eyes flutter shut, a sigh falls from his lips.Â
Your fingers find his horns, and gently you run your fingers along them both.Â
His hands fly to your hips, a breath catching audibly in his throat. âWhat are you doing?â He asks, voice tight but not in a way like he wants you to stop.Â
âYouâre beautiful, Donghyeok,â you canât resist saying, âAnd youâve marked me, so maybe I want to return the favor.â
Donghyeokâs lips draw into a smirk. âMark me how? Who are you trying to show that Iâm yours?â
Your heart thunders, heat racing through your body at the sound of that. Iâm yours, he said. âSay it again,â you demand.Â
âSay what?â Donghyeokâs eyes open at last, flicking open and lifting to meet your gaze. âThat marking me would show others that Iâm yours? That I belong to you in some way?â His hands tighten in your hips pleasantly, and you shuffle a little more forward into the V of his open thighs. Donghyeok smiles up at you, saying, âBaby, youâre mine. And you have been since the night we met, since I put my mark on your shoulder. Itâs only fair that you put a claim on me too. Do your worst.â
Challenge burns in his red eyes, and heat flows through you, rivers of fire that all lead to one point, settling low in your belly â a pool of burning need that youâve never felt with anyone else before.Â
With your fingers still in Donghyeokâs hair, you tip his head back. His lips pull into a wider grin, a soft sound of amusement, and then, âI forgot, baby, youâre a virgin. Are you intimidated by the thought of marking me?â
âNo,â you groan. âShut up.âÂ
You push Donghyeokâs shoulders, and he flops onto his back in your bed.Â
God, he just looks like a guy, any normal guy that you might have found and invited back to your bed. And youâve had a man in your bed before. Youâve had make out sessions, had heated heavy petting that never led anywhere. Youâve had hickeys, and given out your fair share of them too.Â
But Donghyeok is Donghyeok. Thereâs definitely something intimidating about the confident way heâs looking at you, the sexy look in his eye as he watches you â not just a look that says that he knows heâs sexy, but even more arousing is that the look in his eyes tells you that he finds you incredibly sexy.Â
You sink onto your bed on your knees, straddling the demonâs lap. Donghyeok lifts his hands up, interlacing his fingers behind his head as he watches you, and the expression on his face is just stoking that fire inside of you.Â
âCan you sit up?â You ask. âTake your jacket off?â
âMm,â Donghyeok hums. âI like when you tell me what to do.â
Your belly swoops, and his grin widens.Â
He sits up, and you find his smile just inches in front of you. He shrugs out of his jacket, pushing it off the bed, and then heâs sitting here beneath you in a plain white tee, the denim of his jeans rubs against your thighs. And heâs right here. Right here. Lips just in front of you, and your hands drift back to touch him, to feel the warmth and breadth of his shoulders, and then your thumbs are sweeping in to trace over his Adamâs apple, which bobs when he swallows and breathes in sharply. Your fingers slide around to the nape of his neck, just pushing into his hair, and Donghyeok makes a noise so quiet yet so filled with desire.Â
Youâve been sitting here watching the path of your hands, but now you look at his lips so full and moist in front of you. And then you look just a bit higher to his eyes.Â
Perhaps the demonic bloody red of them should scare you, but they donât. They stare into yours and you canât bring yourself to give a damn about the fact that Donghyeok is a demon and not just a man.Â
That doesnât matter to you one bit when you finally press your lips to his.Â
Donghyeok immediately kisses you back, opening up to your kiss, but he lets you take the lead, lets you do what you want with him. He moans when you push your hands higher into his hair at the back of his head, moans when you suck on his tongue, moans when you press your chest against his.Â
You moan when his hands finally find your hips again. Donghyeok drags your hips across the front of his pants, and you break the kiss to let out a shuddery moan.Â
âOkay?â He murmurs, lips falling down to your jaw, leaving butterfly kisses along the underside.Â
âYes,â you sigh, âDo it again.â
Donghyeok drags you over his crotch again, rolling his hips up too, and you can feel him then, his erection beginning to press against the front of his jeans. He does it again and again, and after a few moments, you pick up the rhythm, taking over as you simulate riding him, and you bring his mouth back onto yours.Â
Again, Donghyeok is happy to let you lead, to control whatâs happening.Â
He just touches you without pushing you, kisses you at the pace you set, although that doesnât mean heâs a passive participant in all of this. Heâs reacting and vocal, occasionally nipping at your bottom lip, occasionally bucking his hips out of rhythm with your moves. Itâs like heâs giving you little peeks into his desire for you, moments when his cool demon facade slips.Â
Donghyeok moans when you leave his mouth behind to instead kiss his neck. His hands come to rest on your ass while you keep rolling and grinding down on his straining erection, and youâre feeling the tightening in your belly, you know if you donât stop soon youâre going to cum like this. But it wouldnât be the first time. Youâve had boyfriends and casual relationships before that respected your virginity, that had been content with things like this, found it hot to cum when fully clothed.Â
Donghyeok seems to be in the same mindset.Â
His golden skin beneath your lips is hot, and he moans your name again and again, rolling his hips up to meet each downward push of yours. You rock your hips more frantically, losing control as your orgasm rises. You bite at his throat as you cum, and Donghyeokâs hands on your ass keep you moving, keeping up with the push and pull of your pussy grinding over his erection.Â
Your body is still tingling as you roll off of him, as you lie down in your bed and pull him over you. âMore,â you demand, âI want more.â
âAre you sure?â The demon above you asks.Â
You crave more from him. Donghyeok has you hotter than any man ever has before.Â
He kisses you without warning, jolting forward and sweeping you into a dramatic, hungry kiss. You want him, and you pour that desire into the kiss, impatient and horny for him to give you more.Â
You donât wait for Donghyeok to start undressing you, you reach down and unfasten your shorts, maneuvering them off your hips and down your legs. The shirtâs a bit more difficult to rid yourself of, but Donghyeok obligingly breaks the kiss to let you pull it over your head, and while youâre in this position with space between you, you reach for the hem of his shirt.Â
âCan I?â You ask, tucking your fingers beneath the hem. âI want to have all of you.â
Donghyeokâs eyes flash flaming red. His voice is rough with emotion when he says simply, âYes.â
You drag his shirt over his head without another moment wasted. And then your hands are back in his hair, stroking the curve of his horns as Donghyeok crushes his mouth to yours again.Â
Donghyeok grinds against your thigh while the two of you make out, and you have to pull one of your hands from his hair, seeking out one of his hands to pull down between your legs.Â
Youâve been touched like this before too. Over the panties, an ex rubbing your clit and stroking along your slit with the thin fabric between you and him. Youâd managed a weak, unsatisfactory orgasm from it after a drawn out attempt, and decided to end things with him a few days later citing that you just didnât feel the chemistry.Â
But presently, the moment Donghyeokâs fingers make contact with your clit over your panties, your brain is buzzing. Every nerve ending in your body is alert.Â
Donghyeok kisses you through every gasp and sigh. He smiles when you whine and buck your hips, when you circle your hips and grab at his wrist to guide his fingers towards your wet entrance, to the spot where your panties are absolutely soaked through. He kisses the corner of your mouth, and teases, âDo you want me to continue?â
You push away your panties, almost tearing them in your rush to be rid of them.Â
This much youâve never done before. Never done penetration even with a manâs fingers.Â
Whether Donghyeok can read that in you, or if he sees the slight anxious anticipation in your gaze, he tenderly kisses your lips, sufficiently distracting you as he slicks his fingers against your bare pussy. This is a first for you too. Bare fingers and bare pussy, slick wetness making the glide so much easier and more pleasant.Â
Donghyeok kisses you and touches you until youâre whimpering, reaching for his wrist. âInside me, put them inside me,â you beg, urging his hand lower.Â
It doesnât make sense for a demon to be so gentle, but he is. Donghyeok eases first a single finger inside you, then another. He leaves your lips to kiss down your throat and chest, kissing lower and lower, drawing down your body until his mouth is right there and he licks your clit.Â
Youâre not sure if itâs just the experience of oral sex or if itâs because itâs Donghyeok, but your entire body lights up as he licks your clit, as he thrusts his fingers into you again. He takes his time with you, filling you with his fingers, curling them inside you and brushing a spot that makes you gasp, body jerking at the incredible sensation.Â
Donghyeok laughs, delighted by how youâre reacting. He kisses your hips and your belly, slowly works his way back up, and you swear it feels like he kisses every part of you. His fingers press inside your pussy, slow thrusts until youâre begging for more, raking your fingers through his hair while heâs kissing your belly. Your fingers find his horns, and you use them like handles to guide his head back down.Â
Heâs laughing still, thoroughly enjoying you taking control, guiding him to where you want him.Â
You arch your back, rolling your hips down against his face as Donghyeok sucks your clit between his lips, his fingers suddenly fucking into you at a faster speed, skilled at touching you exactly right.Â
A second orgasm sweeps through you, and you ride it out on his face and fingers.Â
When you push at Donghyeokâs devil horns, he backs off, kneeling up between your legs, and he gazes down at you while he licks his lips, and brings his fingers up to his mouth. You canât look away, completely enraptured as he licks between his fingers, as he sucks them into his mouth. His eyes are hot, raking over your body.Â
You want him bad.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â Donghyeok asks, pulling his fingers out of his mouth. His hand drifts down to the front of his pants, and you watch him give himself a squeeze. âLooking like you want to eat me, baby.â
You want to take a bite out of him. Well, you at least canât fight the urge to bite him, to leave the imprint of your teeth in the curve of his shoulder, to bite his neck again since heâd seemed to like that earlier. You donât want to eat him, but you sure want to take all of him, to have this devil inside you.Â
Donghyeok slides the heel of his palm along his clothed erection, and you decide right then in that moment that youâve had enough of waiting.Â
âIâm ready,â you tell him.Â
Donghyeok blinks, and again he looks more human than demon. âReady? Like for⊠for sex?â
You nod.Â
âYou want to lose your virginity with me?â Donghyeok clarifies. You nod, but thatâs still not enough for him. âI need to hear you say it.â
âDonghyeok, please will you have sex with me. Iâm ready to let go of the idea of my virginity. Iâm ready to have sex, and I want it to be with you.â Can you be more clear?
Yes, youâve waited a long time for this. Youâve picked and chosen, selecting this actual demon over some normal men. But despite Donghyeokâs demonhood, heâs treated you better and been more considerate than any of the men youâve come close to considering doing this with before. Youâve just been waiting for the right man to come along, and the right man in this case just happens to be a horny, red-eyed demon.Â
Donghyeok kisses you once again, and then he waits, holding just above you until you reach up and pull him back in. Heâs smiling when you kiss him, and again, he lets you take over, lets you touch him and do what you want. So when you run your hands along his ribs, when your fingertips reach the waistband of his jeans, Donghyeok just moans happily.Â
His hands join yours in the effort to push his pants down, and the demon above you laughs delightfully, kissing you thoroughly making you forget the slight nerves you feel at the prospect of finally doing this, finally having sex, instead youâre just excited, just laughing and moaning along with him.Â
As soon as Donghyeokâs pants are slid down and kicked off, you reach for his dick, touching him the way an ex-boyfriend of yours had liked. Heâd always told you to make it all about him, taught you to do things the way that he liked.Â
âWait,â Donghyeok says, âYou donât have to do all that. Iâm already worked up for you, baby. You may think being a demon comes with supernatural endurance or something, but in this Iâm no better than a human man. Youâre gorgeous, and that makes me want to justâŠâ He cuts himself off by kissing you, but you think you get what he means.Â
He finds you beautiful, and not only that, but beautiful enough that he feels at risk of cumming too fast if you keep touching him before heâs inside you.Â
âThen fuck me.â You whisper the words to his lips. âTake me as a virgin sacrifice, Donghyeok. Like I was meant to be.â
Donghyeok scoffs, kissing you again and then heâs moving. His hand brushes yours away from his dick, and he rolls his hips forward, pressing the tip against your entrance without actually entering you.Â
âAre you sure?â
âI find it beyond charming that youâre a polite, gentlemanly chaos demon, Donghyeok. Yes, Iâm sure.â You shift your hips, circling them down, and Donghyeokâs dick sinks in.Â
He keeps going, pressing in deeper. Heâs watching your face, and you hold his gaze while you adjust to the full feeling, the different feeling of having something this thick and deep inside you. Not a bad feeling, just a different kind.Â
âDonât stop!â You gasp when Donghyeok just goes still inside you.Â
He holds himself above you, just looking down at you with this expression and all of these emotions in his red eyes.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â You ask, lifting a hand up to cover his eyes, but it does nothing to block his radiant smile. âAre you gonna move or just dock yourself in me?â
Donghyeok laughs again, and youâre quickly realizing thatâs your favorite sound. âMaybe Iâm taking in your virgin sacrifice,â he teases, âDoing my demon thing.â
âRight, sure. But can you hurry up with your demon thing?â You move your hand from his eyes, pushing your fingers into his hair to find his horns again. Donghyeok shudders with pleasure as you stroke your fingers over the ridges on one horn and then the other. âYouâre not acting very demonic, you know. Treating me all gently and tenderly.â
âOh, Iâm sorry. Youâd rather I bend you into strange shapes and fuck you hard and rough for your first time?â Donghyeok pulls his hips back and pushes back in roughly. It stings a bit, but you donât mind all that much. And then he does it again. âLike this?â
âSure,â you whimper, âFuck me like youâve done to all the other girls youâve ever fucked.â
Donghyeok simply kisses you, getting you to melt beneath his lips, and then he moves again, thrusting into you. You gasp into the kiss, and Donghyeok takes advantage of that to deepen the kiss, making out with you as he fucks you, his dick reaching places that you didnât even realize existed. Heâs got your legs spread wide, his hips crashing against you repeatedly, drawing pretty moans from you with each thrust against your sweet spot.Â
And once you get used to this new sensation of having a dick inside you, you really enjoy it. Donghyeokâs tongue being down your throat helps a bit too, his skill with kissing is definitely distracting you from the less pleasant sensations.Â
Your whole body tingles each time that Donghyeok buries himself to the hilt in you. He grinds forward, stimulating your clit, externally and internally. He touches your boobs, but that doesnât do a whole lot for you. You keep your hands in his hair, on his horns, and that seems to drive him mad with lust; each time youâve got your fingers on his black devil horns, Donghyeok jerks, fucking into you a little harder, a little out of control.Â
Itâs one of those times that youâve got a hand curled around one of his horns, your other hand cradling the back of his neck as Donghyeok kisses your collarbones, that he moans so beautifully for you. âFuck,â he moans, âI want to give you everything, baby. Everything Iâve got, all for you.â
You want it, whatever that means. Whatever Donghyeok has, youâll take it.Â
A moment later, he cums, heat flooding your belly, sticky and slick as he pulls out, streaking it across your inner thighs and your pussy.Â
âEverything, baby,â he murmurs, kissing along your collarbone to your right shoulder. He rolls his hips forward, filling you with his dick once more right as he kisses the sunflower mark he gave you that first night.Â
Fire ignited throughout your body, pleasure and desire tangling together, ramping up higher and higher. Your climax tears through you like a wildfire, and Donghyeok fucks you through it, hips driving against yours; his teeth dig against your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the bitemark. You can only hold onto him, hold tighter, keep moving your body with his to keep the waves of pleasure coming.Â
Even once youâre coming down from your orgasm, your whole body is still tingling and warm. Donghyeok is all but stuck to you, both of you are all sweaty so your skin sticks together. His lips press to the sunflower mark he left on you, his hands slide against your ribs, leaving a hot tingle deep under your skin, and you have a feeling heâs leaving another mark, another claim or protection.Â
You canât get a good look at the marks heâs left on you, but you can feel them all â the warmth of the sunflower on your shoulder, which youâre pretty sure looks a bit more yellow in the petals now than it did earlier; there are the hickeys and bitemarks Donghyeok left on you; now these new marks on your ribs, which look like a swirl of small inky spots that are resolving into anything familiar, and on the other side you swear itâs a fine-line rendition of the sun.Â
You wish you could do the same and leave a mark on him, more than the sparse hickeys you left on his throat earlier.Â
For right now, you settle for just holding him. You wrap your arms around him, and Donghyeok tucks his face into your shoulder, moaning softly as he rolls onto his side, bringing you with him. Your legs are still tangled, bodies pressed together, his dick still inside you though heâs gone soft.Â
âCall me crazy,â Donghyeok whispers to you, âI know weâve only met twice before tonight, but I feel like we have a really good connection. I like you.â
Your heart races at the confession. âI like you too.â
You feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin. âGood. Iâd hate for you to have just given up your virginity on a guy you donât even like. A demon, at that.â
âIt doesnât bother me that youâre a demon yknow. Youâre more decent than most of the guys Iâve known.â You trace your fingers down Donghyeokâs back, feeling two long angled scars by his shoulder blades, like thatâs where his wings come and go from. âIf anything, I donât understand why a demon is interested in me.â
Donghyeok lifts his head, and he looks you in the eye as he says, âI told you earlier. Youâre gorgeous, and the moment that asshole tried to sacrifice you to me, I caught a glimpse of your soul. Youâre a pure soul, so utterly good that it pains me to look at you with all the layers peeled back, but not in a bad way. It hurts me the way it hurts to look at something you aspire toward; looking at you is like looking at the stars and knowing that youâll never be able to hold one in your hand.â
But his hands are on you now.Â
His fingers trace over your ribs, and you can tell by the tingle now that heâs definitely left a new mark on you.Â
You take up his hand, pulling it up to your lips, and you place a kiss in the center of his palm. And when you look at his face, you see right there on his cheek that maybe. Heâs closer to holding the stars than he thinks. You trace the constellation of moles on his cheek and down his throat, so similar to one that you see in the night sky.Â
Donghyeok leans his cheek into your hand, and he holds you a little closer. He presses his forehead to yours.Â
The candles behind you on the floor have burned down to nothing but puddles of cooling wax. The herbs and crystals and chalk symbols can be picked up and wiped away in the morning. But for tonight, you hold a demon in your arms, completely at ease in his warm embrace.
a/n: I'm sorry for the long wait on this one! Day 9 is finally being posted on Day 11, which has definitely put me behind, and is making me reconsider my decision to do this for this month. But I really liked writing this one! I've been very Haechan-biased since The Dream Show 3, so I needed to write this tbh.
If you notice any errors or if you feel I should include some more tags/content warnings, please let me know!
I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !
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An analysis on how Sir Pentious' character design represents his personality and development perfectly (beware of Hazbin Hotel spoilers)
Let's get this out of the way: Sir Pentious is a snake, an animal mostly known for generally believed negative traits such as poison, deceit and betrayal. We don't know WHY he's in Hell, maybe he was a "snake oil salesman" considering he comes from the Victorian times and he's into hyping up what he does, or maybe he was into war. Thing is, he's a Sinner whose design just scream "Evil".
(BTW, a snake could also represent "fertility": looking at you, Egg Boiz!)
He always had eyes all around him not just because of a stylistic choice.
Sir Pentious always felt like he was watched, and had to watch out for any danger.
"Everyone here is too nice: obviously it must be a lie! I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when?! HOW?! I must be PREPARED!"
Sadly, he's been constantly berated by other demons, far more effective in destruction, status, cruelty and charisma. Alastor won't ever bother to remember him, Cherri always ones up him, and the Vs, the ones he admires to most, won't care less about him.
To the point that Vox sent him as a spy without the intention to save him if things were going to fail. Heck, he even openly tells him to die while calling him a failure.
So of course he's got reasons to have trust issues, or taking everything so seriously, being constantly reminded of what he can't accomplish. So he puts an air of grandure that may be very flamboyant, but is VERY frail.
But, if we have to be frank here, his biggest source of insecurities... is himself.
He has eyes on his tail (his softer, more vulnerable side, which is ironically made even MORE lieable to getting hurt because of how sensitive those organs are), and inside his hood, so he could look out better for danger when on alert mode.
Heck, even the mark on his hood kinda resembles one eye.
Problem is, when you see his hood folded, when he's at ease, neutral or sad, those are not looking at outside sources.
They're looking at him, at his back. A constant stare that happens everytime he lets his guard down and shows how vulnerable he is. A gaze that can sense all of his weakness, his struggles, his insecurities.
And it's all him.
Pentious constantly believes that his inferiority complex will fade away once he'll accomplish something grand that will make others accept him. But he is his biggest critic, his worst enemy: HE is the one who believes he's a failure, that he'll never gain approval from others.
This show takes place in Hell, but this is Sir Pentious' personal Hell: insecurity born out of self hatred. Doomed to feel everyone's gaze upon him, including his own. Believing the danger to his self esteem is from others, when it's really from him.
But then he's accepted at the Hazbin Hotel: Charlie forgives him, he bonds with Angel, Husk and Niffty who don't care a bit about what he's accomplished or not, or what he's done in the past.
He feels more comfortable in showing his vulnerable side, and no one judges him for how easy it is for him to get emotional.
Of course he's still very insecure, considering how he struggles to confess to Cherri, but notice how he stops building machines or planning to attack others as soon as he starts bonding with the others: he doesn't have a reason to destroy or attack, now that he knows he's loved.
And his final design, when he goes to Heaven, shows how much he's changed, yet stayed the same. He may have died a hero, but he's still the same awkward snake we've come to love.
Speaking of love, let's talk about that!
No more eyes on his tail, now it's just on his chest (showing he's opened his heart), his glasses are now heart shaped, and even the markings inside his hood resemble kiss marks more than anything else.
And look: the mark on his hood is now heart shaped!
Why all these hearts? Why did all the eyes disappeared from his body? Even his eyes that were looking at his back?
Simple: love. Love defeated his insecurities and self hatred. He died for love.
He died protecting his friends, his new family, his new home.
He confessed and kissed Cherri knowing full well he wouldn't have made it, and yet he went anyway.
The usually cowardly and timid Pentious actually faced a great danger with courage and determination: he acted selflessly by putting himself in harm's way, he didn't steal (naturally) and by going against Adam he did indeed "stick it to the man"!
He used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.
His only thought up until his demise was: "I'll go down protecting them".
And he's been rewarded not only by becoming an angel, but also being spawned directly in front of Emily and Sera, two Seraphim, the highest rank for an angel to have, who have also been depicted as snakes of fire throughout history! Sir Pentious, the lowly demon considered a failure by everyone, actually has been noticed by the Seraphim! He's come so far!
He's now come to represent the REAL symbolism of a snake: the duality of death and rebirth, transformation and immortality (ironically a reference to the fact he's been around since 1888 without ever dying from any Extermination or blessed weapons).
And isn't so poetic that a snake, the "source of the original evil", was the first sinner to ascend to Heaven? Or that this episode was released on February 1st, or National Serpent Day?
And of course, as the Bible itself says:
"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down oneâs life for oneâs friends."
(John 15:13)
And knowing him, I'm confident in saying he'll keep helping his friends even in his new position, like the soft hearted noodle he's always been, but was to afraid to show it up until now.
#Vivziepop#Hazbin Hotel#Hazbin Hotel Spoilers#Hazbin Spoilers#Sir Pentious#Fave Character#Comfort Character#Personal Rambles#What a wonderful lovable character he turned out to be đ„Č#Character Analysis
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Pairings: Jason x fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, head injury
Summary: self indulgent,
âHoodââ your broken voice cuts through his adrenaline rush, echoing through the dark, damp alleyway.
He holsters his guns quickly, âHey hey heyâhey sweetheart. Look at me.â He brushes the blood stained hair away from your eyes, âThere she isâŠI gotchu sweet thing.â His voice feels so distant, morphed by the modulator in his helmet into something you donât recognize.
Your eyes start to wander to the mess of blood. He blocks your sight with his body, âNoâŠYou of all people, donât need to see that,â He cups your cheek, tilting your face up, âThatâs not for you okay? You keep those eyes on me.â
He removes his gloves. Although his bare hands are clean, the blood is always there.
His fingertips barely touch your cheek, just enough to ground you.
The red of his helmet warps as tears blur your vision. He quickly swipes them away. âThat scumbag is not worth your tears.â
His eyes follow your tears as they mix with the blood on your face. Not your blood. He grimaces.
God nothing bad should ever get the chance to touch you. Yet here he was with his palm cradling your face. He, is a hypocrite.
âIâm taking you to my safe house, sâthat okay?â
Your throat feels too raw to speak. So you nod.
The world around you tilts, before strong arms wrap around your shoulders, âEasy there sweets, I gotcha.â
He scoops you up. This man who youâve seen toss full grown men like rag dollsâstill surprises you because you weigh nothing. You feel like you weigh nothing, but youâre not holding yourself. Wait he weighsâŠyou to him weighâŠyou weigh to him likeâŠwhich one of you weighs nothing?
âJay I donâ feel good.â You croak.
âShh I know sweetheart, I know. Almost home.â
You barely register being set down on the bathroom counter.
He unclips his helmet, and tosses it to the floor. Something stirs within when his green eyes meet yours.
âI saw it,â Your voice trembles as unshed tears choke you, âthe blood.â
His brows are furrowed with concern, his full bottom lip is almost a pout. Angels above he has never looked softer. It helps sooth every bit of reluctance now that you can see his face again.
Your eyes feel heavy.
His thumb brushes over your brow, âOpen those eyes fâme. PleaseâŠâ You squint at him as he brings a small flashlight to your eye line.
You knew this one, youâd watched asmr videos of it.
âConcoction.â
He huffs through his nose, a smile lilting his mouth, pulling at the scar above his lip. âConcussion sweetness. Follow the light.â
You do so halfheartedly, not much of an overachiever right now. âSâcon-cuntion?â Your tongue feels heavy, clumsy in your mouth.
âYeahâŠsâokay though Iâve had plenty of my own. Youâre staying here tonight.â
The cotton filling your brain makes your nod feel weightless.
A warm washcloth is brought your cheek, you lean into it happily letting it melt the bite of the cold alley still clinging to your skin. God you canât remember the last time someone touched you like this.
âYou with me pretty girl?â He croons, as he wipes the dried blood from your brow, and cheeks.
You nod, almost dazed.
Tears blur your vision, but he doesnât try to stop you from crying, just patiently wipes them away with the cloth.
Contently closing your eyes you whisper, âYour hands are soft.â
He is careful not to wear his heart anywhere near his sleeve, and somehow youâve coaxed him into wearing it on his face. âYouâre soft.â He murmurs.
The blood is finally gone.
He sets you down on his bed, keeping you propped up on the bedpost, âDonât lay down yet.â He coaxes.
You focus on the coolness of the wood, until the bed dips next to you.
âIâm gonna help you get dressed, in the least mortifying way for you possible. Iâm so sorry but alsoâŠâ his eyes rake over you, âIâm not letting you catch the disease that killed the dinosaurs.â
Touché. Who knows what Gotham has cooked up in her petri dish.
âSâokay, mâclothes feel gross.â
He nods curtly before oh so gently lifting your sweater over your head, quickly swapping it for his tshirt.
It smells goodâlike springâbut you wish heâd given you one off his back. Itâd smell like him.
You hold up the shirt to keep it out of contact with your pants. As careful as diffusing a bomb he unbuttons them. âLift your hips fâme.â He holds you steady, one hand on your hip as the other tugs them down your legs. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you lean your body weight against him.
âYa good like this? I have pants theyâre justâŠlarge.â
You let the shirt back down, it thankfully falls past your hips. âMâokay.â
Youâre weightless again as he lifts you, gently laying you on the mass of pillows.
âOh hallelujah.â You sigh.
Something brushes your nose, you pry your eyes open to be met with his.
âSwallow these.â You wash the pills down with the bottle of water he presses against your lips.
âYouâre gonna hate me for the next 24 hours.â He gently brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumb.
âSâokay âcause I love you even when I hate you.â
He huffs amusedly. Itâs not the same love he feels for you, it canât be.
âYeahâŠI love ya too.â
âââ
A/n: I stayed up way too late so the concussion yapping is just me trying to figure out what Iâm trying to say
#crime alleys angel<3#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd fluff#red hood x reader#dc fanfiction
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To kill a king, to fuck a dragon (Day 8/8 of 10k followers event)
A/N: Hi there people! Iâm so, so glad that all of you took time to read all the stories I post, especially these past 8 stories that had been super exploratory for me. I think I did good enough, at least yâall seemed to like it. For this last one I added a bit more plot than usual, this is a tiny bit longer and I think the story is really good. I hope yâall love it as much as I do. Also, and once again, I want to thank ALL OF YOU for following this little corner of the internet and being so supportive and great, special thanks to all my patrons to make my life a little bit easier <3, this has been a blast so far and I hop yâall keep reading, hopefully this account is just the beginning of a much longer exploration of monsterfuckery for us all. (PS: If someone catches the very subtle Greyâs anatomy reference please let me know so we can be friends)
Dragon x fem!reader || size kink, slow-burn (kinda), sex with feelings, magic saliva, spit on pussy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation || tw: mentions of murder
You enter the cave and are surprised to find a door, a normal human door caved into the rock. It looks like a house, a house on the rock, but still normal. What the fuck? Your hopes and dreams of finding the dragon slowly disappear, your eyes teary.
Someone chooses that moment to speak behind you: âWho are you?â You turn around so fast you fall to the ground with a scream. The stranger looks at you like you are a bug he needs to squeeze, and you feel a tear running down your cheek. Fuck. You promised yourself you wouldnât cry even if there wasnât a dragon. âAgain: who are you?â His tone is harsh and you want to cry even more, but you bit your tongue.
âI- I came to find the dragon,â you confess, swallowing around the knot in your throat.
He looks at you like you are a joke, not even trying to help you to your feet. âWhat dragon?â He asks, his tone amused.
You get up and look at him, trying to look as serious as you can when you say: âThey- They told me there was a dragon here.â You fail.
He chuckles, inspecting you up and down, his eyes zeroing on the few tears that escaped your eyes. âNo dragons, just me,â he finally answers, his tone a lot softer than before.
âUh-oh⊠Sorry. Iâll be on my way, then.â You try to get pass him, sniffling as you do so, trying really hard to get out before you start sobbing.
He sighs, and adds: âdo you want some tea?â He offers you his hand, and weirdly enough, you donât feel threatened or scared, you feel calm around him.
âReally?â You donât want to sound too hopeful but you are thirsty and tired and you want to cry because there is no dragon and you basically lost hope of everything.
âYeah, come on.â He motions you to follow him inside the rock house, and you are surprised about how cozy and homey it feels inside, like out of a fairy-tale kind of thing.
He makes some tea as you lean against the door frame of the kitchen, trying to look around as much as possible without looking too snoopy about it. Not that he seems to care that you are curious about everything, he just looks at you every once in a while like making sure you are still there.
âWhy were you looking for a dragon?â He asks when he sets the tea cup on the table in front of you. A similar one in front of him. You sit and start sipping on the best tea youâve ever had.
You sip the tea for a couple seconds, trying to decide if you can trust him, at the end you decide why not, your life is already ruined. âTo kill the king,â you say. He chokes on the tea heâs drinking, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop from giggling.
âWhat?â He asks again when he recovers, his face red from the coughing.
âTo kill the king,â you repeat. He still looks stunned so you give him more context: âI- I was bought when I was in the womb. My parents promised me to him in exchange for gold, and the day we marry is approaching. I donât want to do it, heâs a foul man, and I didnât choose this. I overheard some servants talking about the dragon in the mountains, and I though⊠I thought they would help me.â You try not to sound too bitter about it, but you canât keep the despair out of your voice.
He looks at you like you are suddenly the most interesting specimen of a bug. âYou escaped the castle and came here?â
âYes,â you answer truthfully. There was a lot more implied in that simple question. You escaped, but not only that, they are probably looking for you and the king would probably kill those guards you ran away from. You try not to be too sad about them, they were cruel with you, laughing at you every time you passed, talking about how the king got a new hot wife.
âAre they still looking for you?â He asks, a lot smarter than you give him credit for.
âProbably.â Itâs the truth but it still carries a lot of pressure as you say it. You understand though, you know itâs not his problem and you shouldnât even be there. Youâd find another way to escape the king. âIâll be out of your hair, I promise. You didnât sing up for any of this.â You realize the sun is setting in the horizon and you donât know if you could find your way back to the village. Fuck. âI need to go. The village is a long journey from here,â you try not to sound scared, but an edge of fear permeates your voice.
He surprises you by saying: âStay. I have a guest bedroom and thereâs no way you could get back to the village if itâs this dark.â
You want to say no, to refuse, thatâs improper, but the idea of going back to that golden prison is enough to make you say: âIâll leave first thing in the morning.â Itâs a promise you do to him, but also to yourself. That man showed you more caress that anyone in your life, and you didnât want to cause him unnecessary trouble. Youâll leave in the morning.
Problem is⊠You never do.
The next day he prepares breakfast, and insists on showing you around his house. Itâs so beautiful you are mesmerized. His garden especially. Itâs so colorful and big and calmâŠ. You feel an instant connection to the earth, and to him. Heâs so easy to be around, he treats you so differently like what you are used to. And you like it. You like it so much that you get distracted until the sun is setting once again. And he never tells you to leave.
And days pass. One day turns into another, and you⊠never leave. You know someday they will come back for you. You know you canât run away from your problems. But right there, in the side of the mountain with that nice man that took you in⊠It feels possible to run away. It feels possible to avoid the awful destiny that was set for you before you were even born.
He teaches you to cook, to take care of plants, to polish wood⊠Heâs like a handyman that can do all, and you are his new apprentice, even though he insists on doing all the heavy lifting. But on top of that, he just⊠amazing. He takes care of you, but also you two argue about stupid stuff until you are red faced and you want to hit him, just to end up laughing when he tells you a stupid joke. You have the most fun you had in ages with him.
Until one day all shifts (pun intended).
You are laying around under the tree as he does some gardening. He wouldnât let you near the roses in case you got hurt. âI have something to tell you,â he breaks the silence.
âWhat?â You ask, looking directly at him, a spark of something unknown raising inside of you, like bugs in your stomach, crawling around every time you set your eyes on him, on his beautiful smile.
He looks at you intently and says the most ominous thing: âI- I think itâs better if I show you, actually.â
âShow me what? Why do you sound so serious?â You try to joke, but it doesnât land because he still looks at you with a poker face.
He looks worried, apprehension settling on his features. âJust⊠Wait until Iâm done to say anything, please?â His tone is more than pleading, is more like heâs begging you to understand, and you donât know what could possibly be so bad.
âOkayâŠâ You tell him, anxiety spiking.
And then he turns. Literally. His body contorts and cracks, and thereâs a bunch of things happening at once, and before you realize, thereâs a dragon in front of you. A full on real dragon. What? Heâs majestic, as big as a house and skin covered in the most precious scales. He looks like a work of art⊠you are mesmerized.
âYou said there was no dragon!â Itâs the first thing out of your mouth, an edge of hysterics creeping in your tone.
You laugh then. You laugh so hard and so much you have tears rolling down your eyes. He changes back, and tries really hard to cover his manhood with his hands, failing and making you laugh even harder.
âYou are a dragon,â you say when your laughter dies down.
âI am,â he says simply, approaching you slowly until heâs right in front of you. âAnd I will kill the king for you,â he adds.
Thereâs no point in asking why he didnât tell you sooner, you understand why. Why would he? Why would he trust his deepest secret to you? But him showing you now? It meant more than the world, it made you forget about everything and anything chasing you down. It makes you happy. He makes you happy.
âNo. I donât care about the king. I just⊠I love you. I think what I feel is love, I never felt like this before.â You tell him, heat creeping up your cheeks. He looks at you like heâs surprised, like he wasnât expecting that at all. âDo you feel it, too?â You ask shyly, your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat faster and faster.
âYe- yes. I love you, too.â His confession is followed by his hands cupping your face, so soft and tender, you feel a tear running down your cheek as he kisses you for the first time.
You should have known better than to think your life could be so perfect.
You donât hear them before you are captured. At least four soldiers appear at the edge of the garden and catch you before you can scream. You think about him, about your dragon, and lament how confused he will be when he returns and you arenât there. You worry he would think you abandoned him⊠But you canât do anything as they take you away from the only place you felt like home.
They donât even wait a whole day before they are dressing you and pampering you in the best silks and makeups. Nobody says anything as you silently cry during all the process. The servants looking worried but not arguing with anyone, three guards at the door of every chamber you enter.
You are caged once again.
You walk to the aisle in between a crowded place full of people who donât like you, nor the king for the matter. They just want to appraise his old self to gain some benefits, the same as your parents did even before you were born. He looks like a nightmare standing in front of the altar, and you want to run, to run far away, back into your dragonâs arms. But you canât, guards all around the open garden the ceremony is taking place in. You stand before your soon to be husband and have to swallow back the tears and bile, his rancid smell hitting you like a brick.
The minister starts speaking about love and marriage, and you cry during all his speech. You dream of being far away from there, as far away as possible. Or at least as close to your dragon as you could.
When you hear the people mumbling around you, you turn around, a shadow obscuring the sun. You look at the sky and sigh, so happy to see him you could cry. Maybe you would cry if you werenât so shocked that he actually showed up.
He roars as he lands, people running in all directions, hiding in every possible place. âYOU STOLE FROM ME!â He growls, breathing fire to the sky and making people cry out in fear. You look at him in all his glory, fascinated by every inch of his skin.
âWe- we saved the queen to be,â the guardâs words are short lived as your dragon looks at him and breathes fire right over his body, instantly burning him to the ground. Thereâs a chorus of screams and cries again, and you have to bite your tongue to stop from smiling.
âSheâs not yours! SHEâS MINE!â You shiver at his words, feeling them so deep inside you think you might combust, butterflies dancing inside your stomach once again.
âYou canât take her! I bought her,â the kingâs words donât help his case at all, your dragon roaring and launching for him.
It all happens so fast, one second heâs there, and the next one the kingâs head is rolling onto the ground as everyone screams and runs away. You are shocked to the core, but he doesnât let you wallow in that. He picks you up and takes flight. You realize heâs being very careful not to pickle you with his claws. You donât know where heâs taking you, but soon enough you are in a place you know, a place that brings you memories of joy and love⊠The garden.
As soon as he sets you down, he orders you to: âGo inside.â His tone is harsh, almost a growl.
âNo,â you answer, not recoiling, not moving. You approach him more, your hand softly caressing the scales of his chest.
He roars over your head, trying to scare you away: âGo inside, Iâm not in my right mind right now, I canât answer for my actions.â You arenât scared of him, though. He saved you from your most fearsome nightmare, heâs just the big monster you are in love with.
âNo,â you repeat, a big smile playing on your lips when you look up at him.
âCome on, princess⊠Please.â Him begging in that form does something to you, such a big and scary creature asking you to go inside so he can protect you from himself⊠You are more sure than anything that you are safe. Safer than youâd be with anyone else. Human or monster.
âNo. I want you. I love you.â Your words finally go through him, making his big body shiver, you feel it under your hands, a big shake that leaves you breathless. âTake me, my dragon.â You know adding that isnât necessary, but you are more than ready to be a bride, to be his bride.
âDonât joke around,â he growls, grabbing your body with his big clawed hand and positioning you to look straight into his yes, his big dragon head so beautiful you have to reach out and touch him. He scrunches his nose, making you giggle.
âMake me fully yours,â you say again.
His responding growl is so loud it makes the earth vibrate under your feet. You shiver in anticipation. He tears your wedding dress of your body, wrapping his wings around you to create a bubble, so you wonât feel a single spark of cold in your human skin.
Your wedding dress is torn off your body as he launches for your body, your naked form shivering at the cold temperature around you, but he solves that easily. He wraps his wings around your body getting you close to his much warmer scaled body. You sigh happily.
He lets you down onto the ground and you look up at him, completely vulnerable. âFuck me. Claim me. Love me.â You lower yourself to the ground, your upper body to the ground, your ass up. You know what you must look like: an offering, a sacrifice. And you are okay with that. You are okay being his.
âYou sure?â He asks again, always the gentleman, always worried about you. You are more sure of this that you were about anything else ever.
âYes. Yes. Yes,â you chant as his claw proves your entrance. You look around in time to see him biting on his fingers, two seconds later heâs claw-less and his now not-dangerous fingers enter you. You cry out and bury your face on the mossy ground, his chuckle making you flush all over.
He plays with your pussy for what feels like an eternity, making you come twice before he starts stretching you fully. He gets to three fingers, way bigger than anything you tried before, and you canât stop moaning.
You come again as he spits on your pussy, the sensation so filthy and so good you scream and fall over the edge again. You feel tingly all over after that, your pussy relenting under his ministrations and somehow widening further, accommodating one more of his fingers. âMy saliva has magic in it,â he explains, his tone amused as he keeps finger fucking you. You donât know if you can come again, you didnât even know that much pleasure was possible.
âCome on, come on, please,â doesnât matter how much you beg, he doesnât relent.
He starts scissoring his big fingers inside of you, stretching you impossibly wide, and you squirm under him, a pleasure so big you donât know how to deal with it, your body pliant under his actions, your brain completely void of thoughts. And then he stops and you curse him so loud he starts to laugh, moving your body and making you squirm under him. He grabs your hips to stop you from moving and you feel the tip of his cock against your entrance.
He enters you slowly, so slowly. You want to scream, but your brain is frozen with the over-sensitivity of his dick inside of you. He canât fit inside, thereâs no way, heâs probably just aiming for a third of his length, but right now, with just the tip inside, you feel like you are about to burst. You reach down and rub your clit, unlocking something inside of you and crying out so loudly he roars as your orgasm makes your pussy constrict around him. He pushes in a bit more, and you keep coming.
From that point on, itâs all a blur of sensations and emotions, so much pleasure you are blind to the world around you. His dick is barely inside, but it seems to be enough for him, and more than enough for you. You feel like heâs going to split you in two in the most amazing way. He feels so big inside of you that you think you might die if he keeps rubbing against all your special spots at once. And if you do⊠Youâd die happy.
âTake me. Take all of me,â thatâs all the heads up you get before heâs filling you, one last thrust inside before his hot seed floods your insides. It propels you over the edge one last time, the world fading into blackness.
You pass out.
When you come back to your senses, you are laying on a bed and thereâs a warm body behind you. You sigh happily as he kisses your forehead and makes sure you are comfortable and warm. You feel such intense love for him in that moment, that you have to turn around and try how well it would feel to fit his human dick inside of you (this time all of him).
He feels perfect.
#dragon#dragon x human#dragon x you#dragon x reader#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#teratophillia#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#terato#monster love#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster lover#monster romance#monster smut#monster x you#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft
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The Aftermath-Blood and Cheese part two
summary | The after math of blood and cheese.
pairing | Aemond x Wife!Fem!Reader
tags | mentions of death, grief, swearing, infanticide, murder, talks of pregnancy and birth. Not proof read.
w.c | 2.0 k
note(s) | please ignore my lack of political or architecture knowledge in regards tp the rooms in Kings Landing or Driftmark. also! Fuck you Criston Cole.
____________________________________________Â
âHave any of my letters to my daughter been answered?â Rhaenyra asked calmly. The messenger anxiously shifted from his heels. âNo, your grace.â Rhaenyra nodded solemnly. Within the past couple weeks, her daughter had not responded to any letters that sheâd had sent. Of course, Rhaenyra felt that something was wrong, âmotherly instinctâ Daemon had so gracefully commented when she had confided in him one night about her fears.Â
âDo tell me if anything comes?âÂ
âOf course your grace.â With a bow, the servant moved out of the way so that Rhaenyra could make her way downstairs.
____________________________________________
The looks Rhaenyra got when she entered the meeting room were nothing short of sympathetic. Daemon sat in his chair, his legs crossed and a look of boredom on his face. Jace stared at his mother as she walked, as if words had been stuck on his tongue. Rhaenyra looked between everyone until she couldnât handle the prolonged stares and discomforting silence for much longer.Â
âWhat is thisâŠsilence? Has Aegon struck?â Rhaenyra asked, slowly making her way to her seat. When no one answered, she turned and looked towards Rhaenys, who, at eye contact, quickly looked towards Daemon. âWell?âÂ
âItâs troubling news, your grace. The princessâ son, Baelon, was murdered in her arms not but a few weeks ago.â Rhaenyra smiled slightly, disbelief coursing through her mind as she laughed.Â
âMurdered? He was only six months old! He had no enemies-â Rhaenyra stopped, seeing the solemn looks everyone held. Her face dropped, and she breathed out slowly as the smile faded from her face. âMyâŠgrandson is..dead?â Rhaenyra asked, her voice slightly shaky.Â
âYes. Murdered, your grace,â Rhaenys stopped, looking up towards her queen. âThe greens think that you were behind this heinous crime.âÂ
Rhaenyra paused and a disbelieving glare settled on her face. Her? Her?!
âMe? They think me responsible? I have not but lost my own son! And to think I would inflict such a grievous pain on my daughter-â Her voice cracked, and suddenly she found herself too weak to stand. She slowly sat down, holding a hand over her stomach as the realization set in.Â
Daemon looked down, his jaw clenched, his own gaze set away from Rhaenyra. He had not meant for this.Â
____________________________________________
âYou did this?!â Rhaenyra yelled, slamming her hands on the table where Daemon sat. The room had cleared, and now, Rhaenyra stood, barding her husband as she held back tears.Â
âAs I have said-â
âI said I wanted Aemond! Not my grand-â She stopped, her voice breaking as she turned away from Daemon. Daemon rolled his head to the side before he spoke, too calmly for Rhaenyraâs liking.Â
âIt was an accident.âÂ
âAn accident that cost me yet another loss!â Rhaenyra yelled, her glared piercing into Daemon. Once her eyes locked with Daemon's, a deep seated feeling of dread and anxiety fill her. How could he be so careless, so calm about the matter of her grandsonâs death?Â
âYou barely know the child!â Daemon refuted. Rhaenyra stopped, and she breathed slowly to ground herself before she spoke. Though it did not help. Daemon spoke softer, and he looked at her with a hard gaze. âIt was an accident.âÂ
âAccident or not you killed an innocent child, Daemon! My sweet girl-â Rhaenyra stopped, placing a hand on her mouth as she felt the tears start to bubble up in her eyes. She turned, holding back a sob as she tried to imagine how her innocent, sweet daughter could have possibly felt and reconciled with the death of the babe she worked so hard to conceive.Â
âI may not have known the babe personally. I may have only held him perhaps once but it is not the boy that I am sad for! This-This mistake that you made has not only cost me lost support from the great houses, utter humiliation, and griefâŠbut you have cost me my first born daughter!â Rhaenyra took a breath, and when Daemon said nothing she wiped the tears from her eyes and spoke slowly, turning back to face him. âMy daughter thinks that I have done this. That I ordered the murder of an infant boy, Daemon!âÂ
âYour daughter knows you better then-âÂ
âMy daughter may know me better than the ground that I walk on, Daemon but you underestimate a mother and her grief. You cannot possibly understand the conclusions that will be drawn from her mind when she hears that this happened in my name.â At this Daemon goes quiet. He looked away from Rhaenyra as she continued.Â
âMy daughter is grieving. And in her grief she will blame no one but herself. But the moment that she hears of the hideous rumor that I did this? Her grief will be overcome with anger and she will resent me!â With no more words left to say, Rhaenyra quickly turned and walked away.Â
In the solace of the castle halls she broke down, sobbing heavily. She leaned against the nearest wall for support as she shook her head. Rhaenyra was unable to wrap her mind around how her precious little girl could be grappling with this grief. ____________________________________________
You were in the nursery, as you always were these days, when Crison Cole passed by. When Rhaenyra had given birth to you all those years ago, he felt a mix of emotions, but the top one was anger. He had let himself go, a moment of weakness in his own words. When Rhaenyra spoke your name, the anger grew even more.Â
As you grew the relationship between you and Ser Criston grew apart. You held no resentment towards him for a while, trying to be an understanding âdaughterâ.Â
Criston stopped, seeing you on the floor next to the crib. He felt sadness, of course he did. But more than that he felt guilt. Perhaps if he had been there, perhaps if he wasnât occupied he could have saved your innocent son.Â
And in truth you blamed Criston more than anyone. He was the head of the Kingsguard, but more than that he was your father. Even though he stayed up at night trying to deny you as his own, biologically you were his and no amount of self inflicted drunkenness or denial could change that.Â
Criston stood at the door, opening his mouth to speak, before you interrupted him.Â
âWhere were you, Ser Criston?â At the sound of your harsh, irritable voice, he stopped. The words he meant to speak suddenly lost in his throat as he cleared throat with a cough. He spoke your name softly, taking a step forward but you picked up a nearby book and threw it at him. âMy son would not be dead if you had not been fucking my mother-in-law!â
âPrincess-âÂ
âNo!â You stood, walking towards him fast as you glared at him. He had never seen you so angry, with such a look of pure hatred in your eyes. âIf you had done your fucking job I would not have lost my son!â You went to hit Cristonâs chest, but Aemond came quickly, holding his arms around you tightly as he pressed a soft kiss to your head, as if the anger you felt in your chest could be resolved with the feather light weight of a kiss.Â
âTake your leave Ser Criston.â Aemond spoke harshly, and Criston went to speak, but Aemond looked up at him, glaring with his one good, tear filled and red eye. âI said leave, Ser Criston.âÂ
Criston Cole bowed, and he left quickly. He was willing to blame anyone but himself for his grandsonâs death. Anyone but himself.
____________________________________________
Two years. It took you two years to fully grasp your mind around the fact that your baby was truly gone. It took Aemond a matter of months, but he still felt the loss, deep within his heart. He would stand outside of the nursery as you laid by the crib and sobbed. He would stand outside of your chambers and listen as you screamed and cursed your mother, Criston, anyone you could verbally blame.Â
You couldnât even be intimate with him without breaking down into sobs. And truly, Aemond did not wish to be intimate. He wished to be there for you, a supporter that you needed and not just some mindless lustful husband. So he waited, and he waited patiently. Holding you while you cried, escorting you out of the Red Keep when the courtâs children would run about.Â
By the third year, long after you had let your husband back into bed, you became pregnant. A gift from the gods, you were sure. And when you finally gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl whom you named Viserys and Visenya.Â
Aemond loved the twins, with his every breath he loved them. But, he felt some disconnect from you. You seemed more connected to your daughter than your son. When Visneya would cry you would go running, but if Viserys cried, you would hesitate, before ultimately having Aemond go to the boy.Â
____________________________________________
You were in the nursery, staring down at Viserys as the babe slept. He had such an uncanny resemblance to Baelon that it made you physically sick. You could not hold the babe, much rather opting to hold his sister than him. Holding Viserys felt like holding Baelon, and when you thought of holding Baelon, all you thought about was the night that he was taken from you.Â
Aemond knew this. How could he not. He himself had a hard time with Viserys. Viserys reminded him of his failure to protect his first son. At first that is. Sooner than later Aemond would grow fond of the babe, promising himself, and both of his children, that he would never fail them. That he would come to them every night and bid them a goodnight.Â
On the night that you stood in the nursery, staring at your son, Aemond came. He leaned against the frame for a while until he heard the boy start to whimper. He came closer to the crib, and he saw the baby boy reaching out towards you, seeking the neglected embrace of his mother.Â
âHe wants you, my love.â Aemond spoke gently, knowing that if he raised his voice too much, heâd accidentally frighten you. He watched you closely, watching your conflicted face as you shook your head.Â
âPerhaps you could-â
âMy love, please. I cannot take him forever.â You nodded at his words, knowing that it was true. You took in an uncertain breath before you shakily reached down into Viserys crib and picked him up.Â
You felt like a new mother, holding a babe you barely even knew even though you carried him for eight months. You stared down at the squirming babe, and all you saw was Baelon. Baelon, Baelon, Baelon-
Aemond came behind you, wrapping his arms around you and supporting Viserys under your own arms. Your breath stopped, tears filling your eyes as you felt the embrace.Â
âYouâre okay, my love. Iâm here.â Gods you relished in those words. For the past three years Aemond had been your rock, your anchor, taking you back down from your swirling thoughts and telling you that you were okay.Â
Taking a deep breath, you looked down at your baby boy, and for the first time in three months you saw Viserys. You saw Viserys. The thought almost made you sob; All these months, being detached from the very human you created made you feel like the worst mother in the world. But then, he smiled at you. You felt your whole resolve weaken at the sight of your sonâs smile.Â
You resented Criston Cole, for not being there as a father, for not being there the night Baelon was murdered. However, this innocent little creature didnât resent you, he simply missed you. He could feel no hate, no resentment for your own trauma. The thought of being so easily forgiven by this little innocent life made your heart swell and your eyes tear up.Â
Instinctively, you pulled away from Aemond and you started to rock the boy. Viserys smiled, the same, lopsided smile Aemond had. Your heart swelled and you smiled down at the boy as tears filled your gaze. Viserys reached up, holding his tiny hand to your nose as he giggled. You looked at this boy, no longer thinking of the life you had lost, but the ones that you had gained.
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Hope it was up to everyone's standards!!
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can you make a fix of cod guys reaction to you getting into an argument with them, which causes us to flinch and cover our face from any impact because we had an abusive ex.
featuring Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Konig, & Alejandro
âč cod men x gn!reader
[ warnings ] domestic violence implications
cod masterlist
Ghost
Heâd run his hand through his hair if he didnât have this bloody mask on. Ghost looked down at you, his eyes narrowing in and scrutinizing your every minute detail. You tried to glare back, but you were feeling rather small with the weight of his disappointed glower.Â
âYouâve got tâbe more careful,â his voice boomed, though he was trying to keep it at a normal level.Â
âI know, Iâm sorryââ
âSorry isnât gonna cut it when you get someone killed,â he growled, taking a step in, closing the space between the two of you.Â
You stepped back on instinct and bumped into the wallâtrapped. You suddenly felt trapped. You knew that logically he wouldnât hurt you, but something about his pissed-off demeanor and towering frame triggered something in you. Your breathing increased exponentially and Ghost watched helplessly as your chest rose and fell in rapid beats.
A bit taken aback by your response, Ghost raised a hand to grab your shoulder and you turned your head and shied away. You let out a small gasp as if waiting for him to land a blow on you.Â
You squeezed your eyes shut, the entire moment passing by excruciatingly slow. Thatâs when you knew you fucked up. Ghost dropped his hand and his fist clenched, putting everything together all at once. Something inside him broke seeing you look at him like thatâwith fear in your eyes. It fucking hurt.
âMânot gonna hurt you,â he said in a much softer tone than earlier. Heâd never lay a hand on you, even out of love, if you didnât want it.
You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to look up at him, your face inflamed. âI-I know. I didnât⊠I donât know whyâŠâ The words got lost in your throat. You were so embarrassed.Â
âWho?â He asked sharply.
You tilted your head, your hands squeezing at your sides. Ghost took a step back to give you room, though he wanted nothing more than to step into you closer, to pull you against him. He didnât care how annoyed he was with you, all that drifted away, unimportant nonsense heâd come back to later.
â Who⊠?â You repeated.
âWho. Hurt. You?â He bent over slightly, aligning his face with yours as he talked, making sure you couldnât turn your face away from him.Â
âJ-Just an ex-boyfriend. Itâs not a big deal. I donât know why I responded like that. I-I know you wouldnât hurt me.â
Ghost sighed, his eyes dancing between yours. âNo. I wouldnât.â His voice was dark and deep again. âBut I have nothinâ against hurtinâ that bastard.â
âGhost, please.â
He straightened and rolled his shoulders, trying to suppress the bubbling anger. He looked down at you at last. âCan I touch you?â He asked softly.
You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks now. He tentatively took a step towards you and pulled you into his arms. He wrapped them securely around you and you nuzzled your face into his jacket. If he wasnât so shocked over the way you responded to him, heâd be yelling at you to tell you who it was that hurt you so he could hunt them down.Â
Instead, he clutched you close to him, trying not to think about the fear that crossed your eyes, even if it was momentarily. Even if it wasnât because of him. He never wanted you to look at him like that again. Something rotten tugged at his heart as he felt you try to stifle your cries. Oh, he was definitely going to kill that bastard. And he was going to make it slow and painful. Â
Price
You chased after Price as he made his way down the hall. âI swear I didnât mean toâ!â
He cut you off, spinning on his heels, making you bump into his chest and slam to a halt. âIt doesnât matter what you meant !â He yelled, losing his composure briefly.Â
You flinched at his loud words, stepping away from him. It was a quick movement, a subtle tick of your face, your eyes squinted as you pulled your head away. You acted like this was something you were all too familiar with.Â
Immediately Priceâs anger shifted away from you and onto whatever bastard trained you to cower.Â
His widened eyes traced your face and you slowly read his expression as he came to the realization of why you would flinch away from him when he shouted. You watched as several emotions crossed Priceâs countenance.Â
His voice was hushed as he edged closer to you, the deep baritone sending a shiver up your spine. âYâdonât have tâtell me now,â his voice was so low as he spoke. âBut you will tell me who, eventually.â
âJohn, Iââ
He was always so gentle with you. But right now, the intense hatred for whoever this bastard was that harmed you, took over. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. âDonât wanna hear it, doll. You will tell me who did this to you if itâs the last thing I get out of you.â
A wave of heat crossed your cheeks, his eyes boring into yours. You nodded meekly and his face softened. âComâere,â he cooed, opening his arms. You stepped into them and were immediately surrounded in the warm comfort Price brought you, one hand rubbing circles on your back and the other sliding up into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.Â
âSâyour not mad at me, anymore?â Your words muffled by his body.Â
You felt his chest rumble as he spoke. âCould never stay mad at you.â
Soap
âBlood hell,â Soap whined, annoyed with you for hiding the arm wound you got the other day.Â
âItâs not as serious as it looks,â you tried to convince him, your lips quirking into a weak smile.Â
He closed his eyes to collect his last remaining patience. âNot seriousââ he repeated, his words rising in several octaves as he pinched the bridge of his nose. âYouâve got twenty stitches in your arm! How the fuck is that not serious?!âÂ
He reached for your arm and you pulled it away, shuddering briefly from the brief touch of his fingertips. The two of you froze, his eyes darting to meet yours the second he saw the shift in your composure.Â
âGonna tell me why yâjust did that?â He sat still in his seat, trying to steady his voice.Â
âDid what?â You asked, attempting to play dumb, but the tears were already misting in your eyes.Â
Soap sighed, his face dropping as he studied you. âFuckinâ hell,â he said with displeasure. âYou shoulda told me. I wouldnât haveâI woulda been moreââ He lost his words, watching as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.Â
âHey, hey, hey,â he said softly. His thumb came up to wipe the tears away, his hand then cupping the side of your cheek. âSâokay. Mânot mad.â You leaned into his hand.. âJusâ wish ya woulda told me.â You nodded and he gave you a weak smile.Â
âComâon, letâs get that bandage changed.â His voice was gentle as he coaxed you up, wrapping an arm protectively around you as he led you down to the infirmary. You would discuss this later. Right now, all he wanted was to make sure you felt safe in his arms.
Gaz
Gaz wouldnât say he had anger issues⊠he just got passionate about the people he cared about, and sometimes that would come out in spurts of angry shouts. What he didnât expect, was the way you reacted the first time he ever lost his cool in front of you.Â
âI cannot fuckinâ believe Shepherd,â he growled.Â
âMaybe we should just focus on the positive,â you said meekly, trying to help calm Gaz down. Â
âYeah? And what fuckinâ positive is that?!â He shouted as he paced back and forth. He regretted it the moment it left his lips.Â
You squeezed your eyes shut at his words and brought your hands up for the briefest of seconds to cover your face.Â
Gaz whispered your name and you instantly tried to compose yourself. You straightened and gave an awkward smile.
âThat wasnât at you,â he corrected, his eyes deflating as he watched you. âI-Iâm sorry. Iâd never hurt you,â he said wistfully, running his hand over his hair and cursing. He looked at you completely differently than he had just moments earlier. His entire demeanor shifted. He was suddenly staring at you with such intensity it made something well in your eyes.Â
âNo, Gaz. Itâs not you.â That was the last sentence you could get out before the tears escaped. You quickly wiped them away and Gaz stepped towards you, resting both hands on either one of your shoulders.Â
âHey,â he said calmly.Â
You gave him a sideways smile. âItâs justâŠâ you tried to get the words out but they slipped away.
âSâalright. You donât have to tell me.â His hands slid down your arms, giving you a squeeze before releasing you. âYou know Iâd never hurt you, right?â
You gave a small laugh. âI know that, Gaz.â
âGood.â He pulled you into his chest without asking, all his anger from earlier transforming into gentleness. âYou can tell me when youâre ready,â he said into your hair.Â
You nodded. âThank you.â He held you a bit tighter and you closed your eyes in peace. You never wanted him to let go.Â
König
He was frustrated with the way you were angry at him for insisting he do this mission alone. âYouâre gonna get yourself killed!â You argued.
He had enough. He didnât lose his temper often, but there was no way Konig was allowing you to come on a mission quite this dangerous. He pushed up from his chair, the table in front of him shaking as he did.Â
He was a big guy, and you knew that, but the way he quickly took up the space of the room amazed you. âVerfickte Hurerei!â Fucking hell! he shouted. âWhy are you pressing this so hard?!â He gestured towards you, his fists clenched and you winced. You cowered away, surprising even yourself with your actions.Â
Konig watched you through his rapid blinking, dumbfounded by what just happened. It took him a second to process.
âLiebling?â He asked his voice back to its usual tone. âI wasnât going toâ fuck . Iâm sorry.â A pang of guilt coursed through him. You thought he was going to hit you? Jesus Christ. He wanted to reach out to you but he refrained, knowing that might make things worse.Â
âKonig,â you whispered and his eyes snapped to yours. He tilted his head, studying you as you regained your composure. âSânot you.â Your words were so faint it hurt his heart a little.Â
He watched as you wiped away a stray tear. Your body had shifted back to how things used to be. Before Konig.Â
Your lip quivered and you felt so small and embarrassed. Konig mouthed your name breathlessly and you blinked away tears before closing the distance between the two of you. You practically fell into his arms and he tightened them on you instinctively.Â
âYou okay, liebling?â He cooed, his hand stroking your hair.Â
You nodded. âMâsorry.â
He pulled back so you had to tilt your chin and look up at him. âDonât apologize.â His hand came up and stroked your cheek.Â
âItâs not you,â you tried to reassure again, worried Konig was going to eat himself alive thinking you were afraid of him.Â
âI know.â Your lips pinched together and Konig pulled you back into him. âYouâre safe. Youâll always be safe with me.â
You felt tears fall; not out of terrible memories, but out of the love you felt radiating off of Konig.Â
Alejandro
âJesus, would you just listen to me?â You shouted.Â
âListen to you?! You havenât heard a fucking thing Iâve been saying!â He yelled back. His accent was always heavier on his words when he was mad.Â
He took a big step towards you, his knife still in his hand, covered in blood. You flinched when he approached so suddenly. His dark words and his fast movements made you duck in fear.Â
Alejandro paused all his movements, startled by your reaction. âJesus,â he mumbled, sheathing his knife and holding his hands up. âI wouldnât hurt you, mi amor.â He shook his head in frustration with himself. His jaw clenched as he watched you look back up at him. How awful he felt seeing your beautiful features shrouded in fear.Â
âIâŠâ you swallowed hard. âIâm sorry. The yelling⊠I donât know. It just made me think back toâŠâ
Something inside Alejandro shifted at your faint words. âMatarĂ© a ese bastardo,â Iâll kill that bastard , he growled. âWho was it? Who fuckinâ touched you?âÂ
You shook your head. âAlejandro, please. It was so long ago.â
He clenched his fist, his other hand coming up to the scruff on his jaw. He closed his eyes to try and contain himself. When he opened them, you could still see the darkness lingering behind them. âI donât care how long ago it was, mi amor. I need you to tell me who it was.â
You frowned and he closed his eyes again before walking up to you and pulling you into his arms. âGod. I swear Iâll fuckinâ kill him.â
You let out the softest of giggles at how dramatic he could be. But still, you felt so safe knowing he would go to the ends of the world to protect you. You felt him kiss the top of your head, mumbling something about being sorry for yelling.Â
#ghost#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod#cod headcanons#ghost headcanon#ghost cod#ghost fanfic#simon riley fanfic#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#call of duty headcanons#fluff#angst#ghost angst#cod mw2#smut#alejandro vargas#johnny mactavish#soap#soap cod#captain price#john price#alejandro varggas headcanons#captain price headcanons#soap headcanons#kyle gaz garrick
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you walk out after an argument
characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. anyways i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is
⥠husk
when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.
in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.
but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.
his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.
husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.
when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."
husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.
"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.
you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."
⥠alastor
"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to â you're not even angry, no â you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.
when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"
he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.
alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.
so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?
he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.
...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without theâ well, the manipulation and deal-making.
one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.
"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.
upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.
"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.
"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.
⥠angel dust
his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you â but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.
despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.
while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.
he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.
one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him â a rare moment of respite in his life.
but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?
after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.
he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.
he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"
the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.
it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.
⥠vox
he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city â he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.
(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).
(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).
his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.
he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.
and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.
all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.
"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.
his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.
meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."
vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"
"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.
it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you'reâ" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.
"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go â though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.
"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.
suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.
⥠lucifer
he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.
all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what ifâ
he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.
most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.
thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.
"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, iâ" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."
you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."
his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.
after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.
© dearaceofhearts ăŒ all rights reserved. please do not steal, use or modify my works!
#hazbin hotel x reader#husk x reader#angel dust x reader#vox x reader#lucifer x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin lucifer x reader#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin hotel scenarios#lia writes đ
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Title: Worship of a Sacrificial Lamb.
Pairing: ???!Gojo Satoru x Yandere!Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 8.0k.
Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.
TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Kidnapping + Prolonged Captivity, Physical + Psychological Abuse, Wildly Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Codependency, Suicidal Ideation, Mentions of Previous Suicide Attempts, and Blood. Gojo's Not The Yandere But He Sure As Hell Isn't Normal Either. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
You were sure, beyond the point of reason, that Gojo Satoru was an angel.
A guardian angel, actually. Maybe even your guardian angel, if you were going to let yourself be so sickeningly romantic. Even if you were going to hold yourself to some kind of distorted rationality, you werenât sure how anyone could ever so much as look at him and not see an act of irrefutable divine intervention. He had the body of a marble sculpture â as if some great, ancient master of their art had taken decades aside to carve the embodiment of all things good and beautiful â and a face any model wouldâve killed for. His hair was the most brilliant shade of white youâd ever seem, purer than cloud and softer than velvet, and there was a special place in your heart reserved entirely for his lips â pretty and pale and so lovely that if you ever got the chance to kiss him, you werenât sure youâd be able to stop.
Of course, his eyes were your favorite. Not that it was easy to pick a favorite part of Satoru â no, youâd spent long hours deliberating over the perfectly straight arch of his jawline and the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, the gentle slope of his shoulders and harsh angles of his hands â but if you absolutely had to, youâd say his eyes were the part of him you spent the most time thinking about, that you adored above all else, that wouldâve wanted to keep for yourself if you couldnât have Satoru as whole. The color of the sky and twice as clear, you could still remember the way theyâd seemed to glow in the dim light of the deserted street where youâd first met, the way your heart broke just a little every time he blinked or fluttered those perfect snow-white eyelashes. If you couldâve, you wouldâve liked to keep a spare set in a small glass jar â something clear and sturdy that you could carry with you whenever you didnât have access to the real thiâ
â...maâam?â And then, leaning forward, flashing a perfect smile and snapping his perfect fingers, âI think I mightâve lost you, there.â
You perked up, nodding frantically before thinking better of it and, with a sheepish smile, shaking your head. âIâm sorry, Iââ You paused, clearing your throat and taking a sip of your coffee before going on. âIâm just having a little trouble concentrating. You can keep going.â
That was enough to earn a breath of a laugh from your perfect Satoru, and immediately, you fell in love with him all over again. He mirrored you, taking a sip of his own drink (some awful, adorable type of frozen hot chocolate served half-drowned in whip-cream) before responding, his melodic voice akin to birdsong and rainfall and every other delicate, beautiful thing in the world. âI know it can be a lot to take in. For someone in your situation, especially.â What that situation was, you werenât entirely sure. Still, you nodded and smiled like heâd said the most comprehensible thing youâd ever heard. âJust try to stay with me. I promise â curses are a lot less scary when you know what they are.â
His head lulled to the side, his perfect eyes lulling into something softened and dream-like, and just like that, heâd lost you again. It was unfair, honestly. Heâd been the one to invite you, scrawling down his name and phone number on a scrap of paper with the excuse that he owed you an explanation, but youâd picked out your meeting spot (a cafĂ© on the edge of business district, somewhere heâd never go on his own but that suited his preference to a T), made sure you arrived half an hour early to claim a table in the most secluded corner and order a drink you knew heâd like just in time for his to be fifteen minutes late. You were lucky, really. Anyone else wouldâve noticed your starry-eyed gaze and giddy smiles and figured out that there was something deeply, deeply wrong with you, but not your Satoru. He was probably used to hero-worship, even if the thought of anyone else sharing the same connection with him that you did was enough to make you grit your teeth.
Now wasnât the time for that, though. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts as the corner of his lips quirked downward â the closest thing to a proper frown youâd ever seen him wear. Whatever he mightâve gone on to say about wizards and invisible monsters was lost entirely as he trailed off, his eyes darting to either side behind the dark lenses of his glasses. âSorry, maâam, I think Iââ With an uncharacteristic clumsiness, he pushed himself to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair. In your peripheral, you watched for concerned samaritans and curious onlookers, but came up empty. That was good. That made sense. It was a busy coffee shop during the late-morning rush on a weekday â whoâd ever think to pay attention to the couple in the far corner? Even half of that couple was a deity in the flesh. âI think I need a second.â
It was smart of him â to make such a hasty retreat. He barely waited for you to give one final, enthusiastic nod before cutting through the crowd and disappearing into a unisex bathroom.
It was smart, but it wouldâve been smarter to run somewhere you couldnât follow.
Saliva pooled under your tongue, your fingers drumming erratic and involuntary rhythms into the table, but while Satoru mightâve been an angel, you had the patience of a saint. You counted down the seconds, nursing your coffee and occasionally checking your phone, until three minutes had passed, only getting up when you were sure you wouldâve been seen waiting. Rather than moving towards the exit, you positioned yourself at the edge of the counter, flagging down the youngest barista â a mousey girl in her late teens, with an expression that said sheâd do anything to be helpful and a shrunken quality that told you sheâd do even more not to get in trouble. âIâm so, so, so sorry to bother you, butâItâs my boyfriend,â you started, wringing your hands together and keeping your eyes on the floor. There was a sick thrill that came with calling Satoru your boyfriend, even if it wasnât true, but you were careful to keep your tone strictly apologetic. âHeâs, uhâHeâs got a thing about crowds, and heâs kind of having an episode. Is there any way I could get him out of here without making a scene?â
There was â an employee exit just next to the door to the storage room, one that opened up directly into a back alley that wouldâve kept a comfortable distance between you and the main road. Her eyes lit up, but she made a show of looking concerned, of glancing to her smothered coworkers, before looking back to you. âWell, weâre not supposed to let customersââ
âPlease?â You tried, and then, with a type of cloying desperation, âItâs kind of an emergency. He just really needs to get outside.â
It took a second, then another, but finally, she cracked with a muted sigh. âThere is a backdoor â past the bathrooms and to your left. I⊠I have to ask my manager, but I should be able to leave it unlocked.â
You didnât have to fake your gratitude. You bowed your head, mumbling ecstatic little âthank you, thank you, thank youâs as you turned on your heel and moved towards the restroom. Youâd been prepared to pick the lock, but Satoru mustâve been more affected than you realized â he was already so out of it, heâd left the door open. You could only be thankful no one else had seen come in. You couldnât imagine there was anyone in the world who could resist taking advantage of someone as wonderful as Satoru in such a vulnerable state.
Grinning to yourself, you shouldered the door open and stepped inside, shutting and locking it behind you.
Satoru didnât make himself heard to find. Heâd collapsed onto the faux-marble vanity, his feet still on the ground but his back braced against the mirror, one hand clamped around the side of the sick while the other struggled to form one of the strange, distorted symbols heâd used the night you met him. His half-lidded eyes widened when he saw you, his mouth falling open, but he didnât move, didnât make a sound. You couldnât blame him. The sedative youâd used was strong enough to put a grown man under with a single dose, and youâd given Satoru enough to put a horse into a coma.
âHey, pretty boy.â You took a tentative step forward, and when he didnât react, another. His fingers twitched, but whatever he was trying to do was forgotten as soon as you took him by the hand, intertwining your fingers with his. âItâs not that bad, is it? You should just be a little tired.â
Again, predictably, there was no response. His perfect lips opened wider before sealing into an acute, adorable pout, and you drank in the sight like a man starved.
Cooing, you leaned in closer â placing your body in the space between his open legs and squeezing his hand before letting go entirely. Rather, you cupped his face, admiring the pink flush spread across his pale cheeks, the glossy sheen over those beautiful eyes. Suddenly, it was too much to take, and you jolting forward; your mouth crashing into his and your tongue pushing past his lips, his teeth. His taste was euphoric â caramel and cream and everything good and sweet and divine â but you didnât give yourself long to savor it before you pulled away, dropping to your knees. You hadnât meant to move this quickly, but you loved Satoru. You worshiped Satoru.
And no real acolyte would ever refuse to kneel in front of their sacred alter, if given the chance.
Disappointingly but unsurprisingly, he wasnât hard. You let his jeans and boxers (the latter patterned with pure-white bunnies â cute) pool at his ankles as you wrapped a fist around his cock, pressing a kiss into the curve of his shaft. Like every other part of him, his dick was perfect â long and lean, with a slight left-leaning tilt and a few thin, ridged veins that you dragged you tongue over before taking the head into your mouth properly. Admittedly, itâd been a while since your last hook-up (and even longer since youâd cared enough about another person to put any more than a passable amount of effort in), but everything about Satoru seemed to come naturally to you. His reactions were limited to a vacant stare and the occasional, breathy noise, but soon enough, you felt him stiffen against the flat of your tongue, filling out your fist where you pumped lazily over his shaft. If itâd been anyone else, you mightâve been disappointed at just how quickly he went from soft to stiff to leaking thick beads of arousal, but not with your Satoru. Of course he was sensitive. Angels were supposed to be delicate.
Using one hand to brace yourself against his thigh, you reached up with the other and found his hand, still hanging dully where youâd left it. It was a bit of an odd position â trying to hold his hand while bobbing your head and doing your best not to choke on his cock â but you made it work. It wasnât long before those little, breathy noises built into cracked whimpers and airy whines, before you could feel him twitching against the roof of his mouth. It was hard to see, given the angle, but when you thought to look, you could make out tears forming in the corners of his eyes, something new knit into his expression. It wasnât quite distress â or, at least, not the kind of distress youâd been expecting â but you didnât recognize it. That didnât really matter, though, not if you were being honest with yourself.
It was coming from your Satoru, and that was enough to make it beautiful.
You moaned around him, and a pitchy keen slipped past his numb lips, his grip going vice-like where he held your hand. You swallowed him down to the hilt as he came, determined not to waste a drop of what youâd fought so hard for, before pulling back, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his cock for a lingering second, then another before that connection snapped and severed you from him completely. Suppressing the urge to mourn its loss, you pushed yourself to your feet and pulled him close â pressing a kiss into his neck, then his jaw, then the corner of his lips. âSuch a good boy,â you purred, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. âMy good boy. My perfect little angel.â
This time, Satoru did react â slumping against you even as his hand remained braced around yours. You took him by the shoulders, leaning back just far enough to see his eyes lull, blink, then shut entirely. He wasnât unconscious - you could see a certain stiffness to his shoulder, a rigidity to his posture â but it was clear that youâd worn him out. You smiled, shaking your head as you raked your fingers through his hair and laughing as you found it just as soft as youâd imagined. âThink itâs time to go home, âtoru?â
Rather than pull away from you, he seemed to melt even further. It was barely more than a whisper, but you made it out as clear as day. ââŠhome?â
âYes, angel,â you laughed, pressing your lips against his forehead.
âHome.â
~
He was asleep by the time you reached your car, and thoroughly knocked out by the time you got back to your townhouse â a modest machiya in a neighborhood that valued its privacy. Admittedly, carrying a man twice your height with triple your weight in muscle couldâve gone better, but you managed. There was a short list of things you couldnât do for Satoru.
The sedatives had already proved less effective than youâd been promised, but still, you had plenty of time to get him into his bedroom, lock the titanium collar around his neck, and most importantly, change his clothes. Youâd already picked out a new wardrobe for him â all whites and creams and soft pastels, nothing as harsh as the restrictive, black uniform he usually wore. Not that Satoru didnât look good in black; you were sure heâd look breath-taking in anything! Even if he decided to wear, you didnât know, an all-leather body suit, you were sure heâdâ
âŠ
Youâd have to look into ordering a custom set. Preferably in white, but youâd settle for blue, if you had to.
Youâd also made sure his room suited him, too. After making sure you had the bare necessities (deadbolts, bars over the windows, etc.), you mightâve gone a little overboard. You wanted Satoru to feel comfortable, so you made sure to work-in a few of the cute, soft things that reminded you of him â string lights and stuffed animals and plush blankets all the same color as his hair. You knew he was prone to migraines, but you couldnât stand the idea of letting him put anything between you and those beautiful eyes, so you compromised with permanently low lighting and heavy curtains over his singular window. Entertainment might be an issue, since you obviously couldnât give him anything with an internet connection, butâ
You heard Satoru stir, and immediately, every logistic thought you mightâve had died and fell away. Youâd planned to keep your distance while he woke up, but in an instant, you were perched on the side of his bed, your gaze fixed on his lax expression as he slowly woke up.
It was surprisingly peaceful â his slow trek back into consciousness. Long seconds passed between the first awkward stagger in the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the moment he actually opened his eyes, still glassy and unfocused with exhaustion. You didnât rush him. It was all you could do to watch as he sucked in a harsh breath and pulled himself up, only to collapse against the headboard just as quickly. A hand drifted to his shirt, fisting at the alien material, then to the collar around his neck. He didnât try to take it off, which was good. You didnât want to have to resort to something so ugly so early on.
Finally, he seemed to perk up â glancing around his new bedroom, as if evaluating it. When he turned to you, you smiled, and Satoru remained blank.
You broke the silence. âWelcome home, âtoru.â You swallowed back the temptation to tell him how happy you were to finally have him here, how long youâd been waiting for this moment, instead centering your attention on his needs. âDo you want something to drink? You shouldnât eat so soon, but you were out for a while. It seemed like you could use a little rest.â
A beat passed, but eventually, Satoru shook his head â as polite as could be expected, given the circumstances. ââŠyouâre the one who kidnapped me?â
âMhm.â
âAnd youâre not a curse-user? Or working for the higher-ups?â
More made-up words. You decided to let him have his fun. âNo, Iâm not.â
âWhy, then?â
Your smile widened. Youâd been hoping he would ask. âYouâre not dumb, Satoru. The day you found meââ Or, rather, the day youâd found yourself in his arms, barefoot and shaking, caught by a divinely beautiful stranger after taking a long fall off of a short building. The day youâd fallen in love with him. The most important day of your life. âIâm sure you know that no one actually pushed me.â
And, even if he didnât, it couldnât be hard to believe. There were only so many reasons a salary-worker would be on the roof of their office building in the middle the night, only so many reasons you wouldâve left your heels and your coat on the same ledge youâd eventually topple off of. Heâd been kind enough to get them for you, as you sat sobbing into your hands on the curb. He only pursed his lips, though, his eyes remaining perfectly lifeless. You took that as a sign to go on.
âMy job isââ Terrible. Pointless. Soul-sucking. It paid well, and nothing you did was particularly hard, but the constant overtime and mindless pencil-pushing meant you had very little time for yourself and even less to show for it â besides the paycheck, of course. You couldnât even say you hated it. Youâd just been so ready for something, anything else, and itâd worked, in a way. Youâd gotten Satoru. ââpretty boring. Iâve never really liked spending time with other people, and Iâm not particularly good at anything aside from busy-work, so I really didnât have a reason to stick around. But, then you saved me, and you were so kind, and so heroic, and Iââ
You shut your eyes, curling your hands into fists. Not unlike a schoolgirl, too embarrassed to confess properly. âI love you, Satoru.â
There was no response, not at first. Internally, you panicked â what if he didnât feel the same way? What if he didnât realize that this was for the best? What if heâd rather die thanâ
âYouâŠâ His tone was light, airy, only the slightest traces of shock shining through. As if he didnât believe you. âYou love me?â
âMore than anything.â And, just like that, you were spilling open. âIâI thought itâd be enough to keep an eye on you from a distance, for a while, but after a few days â after seeing how much you worked and how little you slept and how terribly you took care of yourself â I knew I had to do something. I couldnât live without you, and, well,â You cut yourself off with a sudden laugh, only a little forced. âYou couldnât have gone on much longer if I hadnât stopped in. Not like that.â
For a second, he seemed to regard you. It was strange, how hollow he seemed compared to how vibrant heâd been every time heâd spoken to you previously, but you didnât mind. Not all gods could be cheerful ones. Even divinity had to be morose, from time to time.
Still, your racing heart beat a little faster when the corner of his mouth twitched into a slight, cocked smile. He didnât say anything, but he shifted, reached out, tentatively resting a hand on your knee before bringing it up to your thigh, then your hip. After waiting for you to nod (which you did, eagerly), he pulled you closer â into his lap. You managed to keep your guard up for all of three seconds before he collapsed onto you entirely, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You melted against him with just as much pathetic desperation, grateful beyond words to have the distance between you finally closed. âDo you really mean that?â
âAnd then some. When you reached out to me, my heart almost burst with happiness. It was hard to believe you even remembered that I existed.â You nestled against him. âI meant what I said about wanting to take care of you, too. You shouldnât have to worry about yourself ever again, not after everything you did for me.â
There was more, of course. Rules to go over, punishments to warn against, specifics to lay out, but he wasnât fighting back, or trying to escape, and he was tucked so sweetly against you â it wouldâve been a shame to move, let alone start listing off threats. Thankfully, tragically, Satoru ripped the band-aid off first. Slowly, he lifted his head, drawing back just far enough to dart back in for a clumsy, lip-bruising kiss. Youâd already, technically, stolen his first, but there was a difference between kissing his limp body and feeling his lips move sloppily against yours. It was a fragile, immature connection â all scraping teeth and kneading hands and Satoruâs little, throaty moans, but you didnât dare break it off until your lungs ached. Even then, you held him as close as you could as his hands fell to your waist, a thumb slipping under the waistband of your skirt andâ
âDown boy,â you laughed, and Satoru glanced up, pouting. âItâs not that I donât want to, but not so soon. Youâre still in shock, and I donât want to take advantage of you.â
The impulse blowjob a few hours prior felt unnecessary to mention.
Satoru seemed conflicted. He was still in that sort of blank, softened state, but he let out a whine by way of protest. It was all you could do to sigh, kissing his forehead before going on. âLater on, âtoru. After Iâm sure that you can be trusted to behave.â
It wasnât that you didnât want to make love (âfuckâ felt to crude, âsexâ too clinical; making love wasnât perfect, but it was what you had) to Satoru. You wouldâve done anything to take care of him, anything to keep him happy, but thereâd always been a gap in your mind when it came to your own pleasure â an instinct that urged against expecting your love to be requited. As far as you could guess, it would come with time â after youâd started thinking of him as less of an angel and more of something able to love you back. The delay was for the best, really. Intimacy would make you vulnerable, exploitable. You needed to show Satoru how strong, how strict you could be, first.
âThat sucks.â It was almost endearingly childish, just how shamelessly he sulked. It took a few more pecks and another minute or so of coddling before he sighed. âYou can keep kissing me though, right?â
âOf course,â you said, automatically. It was a dangerous promise to make, with plenty of chances for unwanted escalation, but you never wouldâve been able to say ânoâ to Satoru â not so directly, at least. Not when he was looking at you with those beautiful, pitiful eyes.
âAnything for you.â
~
âSo when are you going to use the collar?â
The question was posed casually, unprompted and unrushed. Still, you paused, humming as you glanced over to Satoru. Heâd gotten more talkative in the two or three weeks since you brought him home, but he still seemed caught in that quiet, liquid haze of tranquility â all easy smiles and half-lidded eyes and slow, sloppy kisses from the moment you came home to the second you had to leave. He seemed to be enjoying himself, spending his time basking in your affection and letting you take care of him, and that made you happy. All youâd ever wanted was for him to be safe and looked after, and he was. You could make sure of that, now.
(Admittedly, there was a small, negligible part of that had expected there to be some resistance â a hissy fit, a muted protest, something aggressive and combative that wouldnât be calmed with a few kind words and a gentle touch â and mourned the fact that Satoru was taking this all so well. It wasnât that you wanted him to hate you, but youâd always struggled to trust what came to you easily. If you had to work for Satoruâs love, you could be sure that youâd earned it. If you had to smother him into submission, you wouldnât have to wonder if he was only lulling you into a false sense of security before stealing away all the tools you used to keep him safe. You tried not to be so pessimistic â outwardly, at least.)
âI wonât have to, preferably.â Pulling a towel off of the nearest rack, you bent down to his height and started to ruffle his hair dry. He shut his eyes, but didnât try to stop you. Currently, he was sitting on the wall of your bathtub, only partially dressed in a pair of tan sweatpants while you finished drying his hair. You could shower alone before work in the morning, but Satoru needed more care. He needed to be treated like something precious, and heâd already proved that you couldnât trust him with such an important responsibility. âItâs kind of a last resort. It should only go off if you try to leave.â And then, as you burrowed your nails into the towel., âIs that⊠Is that something youâre going to do, âtoru?â
âNever. You keep me too good nâ spoiled.â He flashed you a lazy grin, and just like that, you were looking away, biting down on your tongue, trying to coax your heart back into beating at a steady rhythm. You pretended to be busy rummaging through the nearest drawer for a brush, but Satoru only laughed. His next question was just as probing. âIt came with a remote, though, right?â
ââŠlike I said, itâs a last resort,â you repeated, too flustered to lie. âI donât want to hurt you. Unless you tried to escape or attacked me, I really canât see myself doing anything soââ Blasphemous. Unforgivable. Sinful. ââharsh.â
âI wouldnât mind.â Like always, he was a little too quick, a little too willing. You bit back a scowl. âI just think it could be romantic, yâknow? Â Iâd get to see how much youâre willing to do for me, or something like that.â
You forced a bark of a laugh. âThereâs nothing romantic about me hurting you, baby. âspecially not if Iâm only doing it because you acted out.â
âI promise, Iâm tougher than I look.â Another smile, even more dazzling than the first. Again, you felt your head start to speed up, only to stop beating entirely the second he went on. âI used to have this friend â Suguru â and heâdââ
Your hand was in your pocket before you had time to stop yourself, the plastic remote clenched in your fist before you had time to think. Youâd never read the manual, never thought youâd have to use it, but that didnât matter. There was only one button, and it only did one thing.
Satoruâs voice cut out as the current picked-up, pumping the maximum voltage into his throat. Satoru didnât scream, didnât thrash, but he reacted â going rigid as his beautiful eyes went painfully wide. The whole thing was silent save for a low, almost inaudible buzzing-type sound, and you kept your thumb pressed into the singular button for a second, then another, before forcing yourself to let go. Even that was more difficult than it shouldâve been. You couldnât stand the idea of hurting him, butâŠ
Fuck. You wouldâve done anything not to hear Satoru say his name ever again.
To his credit, Satoru didnât collapse. When it was over, he only buckled forward â catching himself on his thighs as he dragged in a jolting, ragged breath. You were on your knees in front of him in a second, his face in your hands and your mouth on his cheek, his forehead, his neck, as if you could kiss away the pain. âIâm sorry Iâm sorry Iâm sorry,â you chanted, each word less coherent than the last. âItâs justâIâve read about him in your diaries, and I shouldâve known youâd bring him up, andââ
âI love you.â
You went quiet.
You tried to pull away from him, but his arms lashed out; wrapping around your midriff and pulling you closer â burying his face in the dip of your shoulder, the crook of your neck. Again, he repeated, âI love you.â
For a second, you thought about pulling away, about sending him back to his room while you pulled yourself together. For a second, you considered reaching for your remote, again.
Then, you settled against him, shutting your eyes and resting your head against his chest.
âI love you too, Satoru.â
~
Admittedly, Satoruâs apartment was the closest thing you had to a guilty pleasure. The first time youâd broken in, you were still on the fence about just how much he needed your help, but by the third, or the fourth, or the fifth, youâd already made up your mind about bringing him home. Youâd only visited a handful of times since, but it was nice to stop in every now-and-then, to remind yourself there were two distinct eras of Satoruâs life â prior to the day heâd met you, and post. Getting to spend a few minutes tucked into a space so essentially Satoru wasnât something you were opposed to, either.
You made your way slowly through his former home â stepping over heaps of abandoned clothes and stopping to straighten forgotten piles of cluttered paperwork he would never be forced to re-visit. Satoru didnât have any close friends or family whoâd stop by uninvited, which meant every little detail was exactly how Satoru wouldâve left it. The fridge was still empty, the freezer stocked with frozen, pre-packaged desserts; the walls were still empty and drab, utterly devoid of life; and best of all, his bed still smelled exactly like him. It was a silly thing to be so excited about, especially when you had the source waiting for you at home, but you collapsed onto the mattress without hesitation, shutting your eyes and basking in the evidence of just how hopeless heâd been, before you had a chance toâ
Clipped footsteps, followed shortly by the sound of the bedroom door being pushed open. You bolted upward, your pocket knife (because self-defense was important when you treated breaking-and-entering like a hobby) in your hand in a fraction of a second, but the intruder didnât seem quite so concerned.
It was a woman â deathly pale and worryingly gaunt, just a little too short to be considered average. She regarded you with a cold stare before nodding by way of greeting. âIâm guessing youâre Satoruâs girlfriend?â
The irritation that came with hearing someone else use his given name was immediately overshadowed by pure, euphoric delight. Smiling like an idiot, you asked, âHe calls me his girlfriend?â
âOh, Iâm not going to repeat what he calls you.â Her gaze dropped to your knife, now little more than an afterthought. âYou can drop the weapon,â she said, holding up a manila envelope stuffed to the point of bursting. âJust here to pick up his lesson plans. Itâs been a pain in the ass â having to cover for him since you two started playing house.â
She sounded agitated, but only mildly so. A small, rational part of your mind urged you to linger on the mild irritation in her voice, the odd casualness in the way she spoke to you. She couldnât have talked to Satoru recently, not the months heâd spent with you, but if she was concerned for his safety, she wasnât concerned enough to bring up the issue now.
The vast, easily distracted majority could only chant girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.
You opened your mouth, ready to ask if Satoru had talked about you often, if heâd ever mentioned your name, if she remembered word-for-word what heâd said about you, but she was already gone â muttering a curt goodbye and slamming the bedroom door behind her. By the time you could force yourself off of his bed, sheâd disappeared entirely.
That day, you picked up roses as white as his hair and forget-me-nots as blue as his eyes on your way home. Just to remind Satoru how much you really loved him.
~
Satoru greeted you as soon as you got home, like heâd done every day since you gave him permission to roam freely. You didnât call out, didnât ring the bell, and yet, as soon as the door was closed and locked behind you, he was there; his arms wrapped around your waist and your body hauled against his. He held you in that bone-crushing embrace for a second, then another before lowering you back onto your feet. You clung to him for just a little longer before letting go.
He always seemed to be smiling, but tonight, he was beaming. He pulled you into an eager kiss, only to jerk back just as abruptly, too excited not to start talking while his lips were still pressed against yours. âHappy six-month anniversary,â he managed, quickly enough for the words to blend together. âI, uhâItâs not much, but I got you something. I thought itâd be cute to leave it in your office, but that mightâve beenâ I mean, I can bring it to you ifââ
âRemember to breathe, âtoru,â you cut in, laughing. He let his head lull to the side sheepishly, and you went on. âYou got me something?â
âItâs not a lot,â he reiterated, still shy. âIâm sorry, Iâm not really used to this. I wanted to have dinner ready when you came home, too, but I think it needs a few more minutes.â
It was hard to believe, sometimes â just how lucky youâd gotten. There were only so many human beings who could say theyâd met an angel, and you got to come home to one every night.
âYouâre perfect.â Satoru blushed, and you pulled him close, pecking the bridge of his nose just underneath the bar of his glasses. âFinish up. Iâll meet you back in the kitchen to tell you how much I love my gift.â
Reluctantly, you detached from Satoru, and made your way to the home office youâd all-but abandoned after bringing Satoru home. His present sat on the edge of your desk: a small mason jar, just the right size to sit in the palm of your hand, filled with water and finished off with a jet-black ribbon tied around the lid. Two spherical objects floated near the bottom. Even from a distance, you recognized them immediately.
Satoruâs eyes.
If youâd been holding the jar, you wouldâve dropped it. They had to be fake, but they couldnât be â replicas wouldnât have been so bright, so organic, so perfect. Heâd been wearing glasses, but youâd been able to see his eyes, andâ and even if you couldnât, it wasnât like heâd be able to carve his own eyes out in the nine hours you spent away from him. Had there been blood on his clothes? You couldnât remember, now. Was he hurt? Had you ever seen him hurt himself? He couldnât have left, butâ
You felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your midriff, drawing you against a broad chest. The metal of his collar pressed into the back of your head as he slotted himself against you. âYou mentioned how much you like my eyes, once,â Satoru explained, the eagerness in his melodic voice now painful to listen to. âI⊠I thought you might want a couple spares. For when we canât be together. And, after dinner, I thought we could finallyâŠâ
He trailed off, embarrassed. Still, what he wanted was clear.
For a long moment, you didnât say anything.
Then, with a heavy exhale, you forced yourself to glance over your shoulder, facing Satoru with a smile. âNot tonight, âtoru.â Youâd never been thankful not to be able to see the clear blue of his eyes, before.
âBut soon. I promise.â
~
You couldnât find Satoru.
It was hard to believe, even as you hunched against the wall of his bedroom, your knees pulled into your chest and tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes. Youâd looked everywhere â torn apart every room in your house, overturned furniture, called his name until your throat ached â but he justâhe wasnât there. Youâd checked the locks (still in-tact) and all the windows (decisively unbroken), but the only sign of him youâd managed to find was his collar â cold and abandoned, undone and left carefully on the foot of his bed. It wouldâve been impossible for him to take off without the remote still sitting safely in your purse, the mechanism was strong enough to endure getting hit with a car, and yet, it was here, and he wasnât.
God. You were so fucked.
The open collar sat on the floor next to you, your pocket knife immediately next to it. Satoru was gone. Heâd left you, or been taken â it didnât matter. Your life was over. Heâd go to the police, and youâd be arrested, and youâd never get to see Satoru again. Even if he didnât go to the police, he was never coming back. Either way, it was a death sentence.
You were never going to see Satoru again.
Half-consciously, your hand found your knife, fingers curling around the handle. For the first time in months, you remembered what your life was like prior to meeting Satoru. You remembered what youâd tried to do - what you wouldâve done, if he hadnât been there to save you.
You drew in a shaky breath, tightening your hold on your knife and raising it â first to your chest, and then thinking better of it, your throat. You werenât very strong, but you werenât very durable, either. If you were lucky, itâd only take a minute or so beforeâ
âBaby?â
You stiffened, blotting out. For a moment, your mind went perfectly, euphorically blank.
When you came to, you werenât pressed against the wall, but on your knees â straddling Satoruâs waist. The knife was still in your hand, but you couldnât see the blade. It was buried in Satoruâs stomach to the hilt.
To his credit, he didnât scream. His reaction was uncannily alike his response to the shock collar â wide eyes and parted lips, pain and shock only visible in the absence of his smile. Warm blood soaked through the fabric of his uniform jacket, washing over your hand, but you didnât care. Only half-voluntary, you pulled the knife back and brought it down. You did it again, and again, and again, each motion repetitive and mechanical. Youâd never killed anyone, before. It was unfair that the first had to be Satoru.
It was only when the blade of your knife met loose pulp rather than solid flesh that you paused, dropping your weapon entirely. Rather, your hands found his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin through tattered fabric and tearing. You let out a miserable sob as you clawed at his chest, trying aimlessly to dig to his heart. âYou left,â you whined, like that would explain anything. âYou were gone, and I couldnât find you, and I thought Iâd never see you again, andââ You cut yourself, gasping. âAnd youâre dying. Oh my god, Satoru, Iâm so sorry, I didnât mean toââ
It never occurred to you to call an ambulance. Your body seemed to move on its own, clambering down just far enough to tear at the waistband of his pants, to free his cock. ââm just fine, princess,â he muttered, but you werenât in a state to listen. With a frantic sort of desperation, you pumped your fist over his length, his blood serving as good-enough lubrication. Satoru let out a low groan â the noise impossible to read as pain or relief. âEven better, with such a pretty view.â
âShut up, shut up, shut up.â Your fist wasnât working. Too frantic to be graceful, you forced his cock past your lip and fucked the tip into the hollow of your cheek, doing your best to ignore how his natural bitter mixed with the near-overwhelming iron-tinge. That, at least, got you a reaction â another rough groan, his hand in your hair as his tip started to leak arousal and you felt his shaft stiffen against your hand. You almost choked on your own relief, but Satoru soothed you, his blunt nails scrapping over your scalp as he cooed. âBeen waiting so long to see you like thisâŠâ He trailed off, laughed. You felt another jolt of fresh blood leak from the tattered flesh of his stomach. There was enough to pool on the floor below him, now. ââm sorry â did I say that already? Thought I could step out for a second before you got home, deal with a last-minute mission, butââ His voice hitched as you let out another sob around him. ââclearly, my pretty girl canât be left alone for so long.â
You couldnât understand why he was still talking. Every word hurt more than the last â like he was trying to make it that much harder for you to do the only thing you could. When you pulled away from him, it was only to let out a fractured cry, to bury your face in his thigh, muffling your voice until it was only a whisper above nothing. âYou canât leave me. If I donât haveâIf youâre not here, then I canâtââ
âHey, hey, donât talk like that. Iâm not going anywhere.â You felt the hand in your hair dip lower, cupping your cheek. Another caught you by the chin, tilting your head back, until you were staring at Satoru â blood-drenched and glorious, sitting up and smiling down at you. He shouldnât have been moving, you shouldnât have let him move, and yet, it was all you could to do jolt upward and throw yourself against his chest, your mouth latching instinctually onto his neck. Youâd always been so careful not to bite, not to bruise, not to do anything thatâd leave a mark and mar his perfection, but suddenly, your love felt less like an act of pure-hearted preservation and more like the desperate throes of a forsaken acolyte clinging to the blessings of a dying god. It was hard to worship divinity as something everlasting when your hands were stained in its blood.
 So you didnât try to. You dug your teeth into the side of his throat without reservation, cautious only not to visit the same patch of skin twice. Satoru felt any pain, if he could feel anything after losing so much blood, his only reaction was an airy laugh and a shallow kiss to your temple as his hand found your hips, then your sides. You felt yourself leaving the ground long seconds before your processed that Satoru was lifting you up, and even then, your awareness was burdened by a numbing sort of confusion. You wanted to tell him not to move, not to breathe, to let you help. You wanted to find your knife.
In the end, though, you only strung your arms around his neck and let him lay you on his bed, the mattress dipping where he kneeled in the space between your open legs.
In a daze, you felt your skirt being slid up to your waist, your panties shoved aside and replaced by the soft warmth of Satoruâs mouth. Like always, he was adorably clumsy â the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as his tongue lapped and traced over your pussy. His fingertips dug too harshly into your thighs, his tongue thrusting into you too erratically, his little whines and occasional whimper too pitchy to allow for any real reverberation, but your poor nerves were so fried and your heart was still beating so fast and it wouldâve taken a miracle for you not to cum â moaning pathetically as you bucked into his mouth. Youâd imagined this scenario before, pictured yourself showering him with praise as you taught him exactly how to make you cum on his pretty tongue, but this was too quick, too abrupt, too out of your control. You werenât in a state to teach. If he learned something from this, you doubted it would be the right lesson.
You reached for him as he straightened his back, but Satoru caught your wrist, guiding your hand to his stomach. Rather than mangled flesh and exposed viscera, your palm pressed against perfect in-tact, perfectly seamless skin. Like heâd never been injured. Like he hadnât been on the verge of death only a few minutes ago.
Like youâd never even touched him.
âSee, baby? I already told you â Iâm not going anywhere.â His smile was soft, his voice soothing, but he was distracted. With a fist curled around his shaft, he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance, heavy beads of his arousal drooling onto your cunt and down your slit. âYou had me worried for a while, there.â This time, his eyes flickered up to meet yours. âI know what Iâm good for. Thought you might get sick of me before I ever got a chance to prove it.â
It wouldâve been impossible to tell if Satoru was still in pain, or if he was capable of feeling something so human at all. The hurt that sliced through your chest, though, was agonizing. âI would never do that, âtoru.â
âI know. And Iâm sorry, too â itâs unfair to keep comparing you to him.â He bowed his head, dipping low enough for the heat of his breath to ghost over the shell of your ear, when he went on. âYouâre not getting away from me that easily.â
There was a shuddering inhale, a sudden pressure against your slit. He pushed into you slowly, less concerned with your comfort than he was savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him, of your body inviting him deeper, closer. You held your breath, doing your best to memorize every curve and vein, to accommodate him even as his length threatened to split you open. It wasnât painful, but even if had been, you wouldnât have complained. This was what you were supposed to want. This was what you were supposed to do for Satoru.
You could only wonder, then, why it felt so cold.
It was only when hips pressed into yours and he was fully hilted inside of you that he picked himself up â a hand planted on either side of your head, a broad, careless smile plastered across his lips. You registered that his lips were moving a full moment before you recognized the sound of his voice, as angelic as it was unbearable.
âI love you.â
For the first time, you didnât bother trying to say anything at all.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader
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you're mad at him.
you're mad at him and he knows it. you've been giving wriothesley the silent treatment ever since you arrived at the fortress of meropide, bandages in hand and a flurry of curses erupting nonstop from your mouth.
not a single word has been uttered between you since you sat him down in his office. despite refusing to speak to him, much less look him in the eye, you're dutifully bandaging up his raw knuckles like you remember sigewinne showing you back when she decided to go on vacation.
"it's very easy," her voice rings in your ears. you bite your tongue to prevent yourself from snarking back at her imaginary presence.
you only hoped she was enjoying herself up on the surface, accompanying neuvillette for the first time in ages. while she absolutely did deserve a vacation, you wished that she had given wriothesley a stern set of instructions to take care of himself in her absence.
if she did, maybe you wouldn't have had to come all the way down here just to witness him in such a state. your poor heart can't take this kind of worry.
the warden has come out the pankration the most unscathed, only sporting a split lip and bloody nose. his knuckles are red and cut, but it's nothing in comparison to the two inmates who had decided it was a good idea to incite a riot in what should be a controlled environment of the prison.
physically, he's fine. emotionally, he's having a complete meltdown.
he can't take this silence anymore; can't bear having you be upset with him, knowing that he should have been more careful about rushing in to stop the riot himself. the prison is crawling with guards for a reason, yet in his haste he decided it would be faster to intervene alone.
"hey," wriothesley calls out softly, timid despite his looming presence over you. "i didn't mean to worry you orâ"
"why can't you be more careful?" you suddenly interrupt, voice cracking weakly. you gaze up from where you're kneeling on the floor, bandages halting in the air while you challenge him with your eyes. "don't you know how stupid and reckless that was?"
he holds your stare for a few moments, stunned by your sudden rebuttal. and then you tear your eyes away from his again, focusing back on tenderly wrapping up his hand.
"you always make me so worried staying down here day and night," you continue, voice so quiet he can barely make out your words.
"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly.
"i know you're strong. i know it. but you're not invincible. would it kill you to cherish your life a little more?"
"i'm sorry," he says again.
you falter, a sigh escaping you as you peer up at him again. there's something softer in the way you look at him now, with all your frustration melting away into concern. you rummage through your bag for a wet wipe before standing to cradle his face.
wriothesley can't breathe when you're being so gentle with him. his hands find your waist and squeeze it to draw you even closer, until he can almost rest his head against your stomach.
"i love you," you finally tell him, and he feels the relief wash over him. "i can't stand seeing you hurt, so please be more careful."
you swipe the cloth under his nose a few times, gently dabbing at the skin and cleaning up the blood that has dried there. his steely eyes drift shut under your warm touch, allowing you to clean his face. when he only nods in response, your hand stops.
"promise me."
he looks at you again, a brow raised at your stern tone. but he would always relent to you, no matter what it is you wanted.
"i promise."
you blink down at him for a second, taking in how beautiful he is underneath his bloody nose. finally, you lean down to kiss the top of his headâ a gesture of forgiveness and love that he's grown so accustomed to.
there's sunshine in your smile when you pull away from him to discard the used wipe, all previous signs of anguish gone from your expression.
his heart nearly stops at the sight.
you were right. he should cherish himself more. he can't stand seeing you fret over him even if it is a little endearing.
for now, he'll just enjoy having you take care of him. it's been so long since he returned to the surface, all he wants to do right now is bask in the light you bring down here with you.
"oh nurse," he teases, giving your hips another squeeze. "my lip got busted, too. got a remedy?"
you roll your eyes but press a kiss to his lips anyways.
© ALABOADOA 2023 â please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
#â whispers in the wind â§#wrio 'my partner is mad at me i don't deserve to breathe' thesley#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact drabbles#genshin drabbles#genshin impact x gn reader#genshin impact x gender neutral reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#wriothesley#wriothesley genshin#wriothesley x you#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x y/n#wriothesley x gn reader#wriothesley x gender neutral reader#genshin impact fic#genshin fic
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I NEED MORE PREGNANT MC X SYLUS!!
Like, how he would take care of her, how he would react in the birth, discovering the gender..
/my baby fever is killing me i need sylus
sylus when youâre pregnant
Finding out the gender
When Sylus learns the gender of your child and finds out itâs a girl, heâs silent for a moment, absorbing the news with a mixture of surprise and realization. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he imagines a tiny version of youâsomeone he could protect, someone who would have his whole heart. Though heâs not one to show too much vulnerability, the thought of a daughter softens his usually intense demeanor.
Heâd lean back, watching you with an amused smile. âA girl, huh?â Heâd chuckle, reaching out to pull you close. âGuess Iâll have two of you to spoil now.â Youâd catch the warmth in his eyes, that flicker of rare, quiet excitement.
Still, Sylus wouldnât be able to resist teasing. âI better start teaching her how to keep secrets from her motherâ heâd joke, his fingers brushing your belly. But when he thought you werenât looking, youâd catch him in quieter moments, hand resting protectively on your belly, as if he was already prepared to keep both of you safe, no matter what.
Taking Care of You While Pregnant
From the moment he learns about your pregnancy, Sylus becomes almost obsessive about keeping you safe and thereâs no negotiating his terms. He insists you stay home, especially on days heâs away and heâs steadfast in his ban on high heels. When you try to argue, Sylus simply raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face.
âNot a chance, kittenâ heâd say with that teasing edge, though you can tell heâs dead serious. âYou can save the stubbornness for when youâre not carrying our child.â If you try to wear heels or go out without him, heâd catch you in the act, effortlessly slipping the shoes out of your hand. âI donât remember giving you permission for theseâheâd say and youâd huff, knowing any argument was pointless.
When youâre feeling restless from being cooped up, heâll pull out every excuse to keep you distracted. âRelax, sweetheartâheâd purr, settling in beside you with a stack of books or a movie. âIâll keep you entertained.â
Heâs vigilant in other ways, too, always attentive to your needs. Heâd have the kitchen stocked with anything you might crave and would be the type to insist on doing everything himself, from carrying anything remotely heavy to running out at odd hours for your favorite snacks. Despite his intense, often merciless exterior, youâd see a softer, doting side of him emergeâone that speaks to how deeply he cares.
Being There During Birth
When labor starts, Sylusâs usual calm, controlled demeanor would crack just slightly, though heâd never let you see it. Inside, heâs bracing himself, knowing heâs powerless to control what happens next. But he stands right beside you, gripping your hand, a rare hint of nervousness showing in the tightness of his jaw.
âEasy, sweetieâ heâd murmur, brushing the hair back from your face. âJust focus on me, alright?â His voice is steady, even gentle, though thereâs an edge in his eyes that says heâd do anything to take the pain for you if he could.
When the pain intensifies, he squeezes your hand a bit tighter, his presence grounding you. He would keep whispering reassurances, telling you how strong you are, how proud he is. At one point, when he catches you wincing, heâd lean in close, his gaze unwavering. âYouâre not doing this alone, kitten. Iâm right here.â
Once he hears the first cries of your daughter, Sylus lets out a breath he hadnât realized heâd been holding, his hand still tightly holding yours as he looks at you, a flicker of raw emotion in his eyes.
For once, words would escape him; instead, heâd gently brush a kiss against your forehead, his quiet, intense gaze saying everything he couldnât.
In that moment, heâd be entirely yours and hers, a side of him reserved for only the two of you.
#love and deepspace#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds sylus#lads sylus#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you
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