#this move is going to be a good thing for me in the long run. but realizing now what my life COULD have been the last 7 months is just

[thepersonperson]

Why the hell is JJK 270 called Dream's End?

JJK 270 being titled Dream’s End is so fudging ominous. That’s some Umineko type beat. I’m not sure if I should even judge this chapter as presented because of this. In fact, I'm holding off on posting the other analysis I had for today since I no longer am certain of what JJK 268–270 are.

There's two lines of thought I have:

1) Gege suffering from burnout and bad working conditions plus rushing has caused the writing to decline.

2) Gege still has a hidden ace saved for the final chapter and the weird writing is deliberate.

I'm going to humor Option 2, but only because the title of this chapter is called Dream's End.

(The most 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Using TCB scans and leaks. Click images for captions/citations.)

[Small Update: Follow-up Discussion]

Preface

"Without love it cannot be seen."

This is a phrase and philosophy I have borrowed from Umineko since I've started these JJK yapfests. It essentially boils down to 'discard your negative biases and try to examine things in good faith.'

JJK 268 & 269 have fudging tested that for me. I've been giving Gege and the characters a pretty hard time with the caveat of knowing how exploitative the manga industry is. I initially rejected the idea that these chapters were to be taken at anything other than face-value because of this. In fact, I cited the JJK 268 chapter title of Finale as a reason I've accepted things as is.

And with that same logic, I'm now doing the opposite... So hear me out! I've got some pretty good reasons to be doing this.

What's wrong with JJK 268–270?

There's a lot of things in these chapters that are fundamentally inconsistent with what's been established in throughout the manga. If we use Option 1 to explain these contradictions, these are last second retcons because Gege forgor.

Option 2? We're about to have the rug pulled the hell out from under us because the last 3 chapters have been delusions.

What first tipped me off to something possibly being wrong on purpose was the fate of the incarnated culling game players in JJK 270. Not too long ago it was established that the souls of non-sorcerers in vessels were unsavable.

The souls are suppressed in a way that distorts them permanently or their consciousness is outright destroyed. They were gambling on Megumi's survival due to him being a sorcerer and Sukuna's incarnation method being unique. 99% of them will die and those who survive will likely be vegetables, so why is there a sudden gamble on their survival in JJK 270?

It's such a neat and fine bow to tie this mess up that goes directly against existing lore. It's so ideal that it has me suspicious.

Brain damage from sorcery on non-sorcerers has been established as extremely taxing. I think about Gojo's Unlimited Void (UV) the most when it comes to this. Non-sorcerers were hit by it for 0.2 seconds and required medical intervention for 2 months to fully heal from it. Sukuna, the absolute strongest, tanked some of it and it affected him for the rest of the battle. ...And then we have Megumi who was under it for about 6 minutes and seems to have very little problems from it.

This is bizarre. Someone who underwent the month long bath and UV without Reverse Curse Technique (RCT) should be struggling to even stand after waking up. Sukuna had RCT and the Gojo brain damage still took him out. This screams of inconsistent writing unless...this is a deliberate hint that something is amiss.

I want to draw attention to the panel Megumi's UV damage is addressed. Just about everyone has been seemingly waiting around in the same spot for him to wake up. It's a bit weird given that sorcerers don't usually do that. They usually get a move on asap. And after the destruction of Shinjuku and the Culling Game Players still running about, why would they take a breather to discuss their plans that worked?

But that's not what started bothering me about that panel after reading JJK 270. It's that characters who aren't in the room, start appearing without warning. Look who is behind Maki and to the left. It's Kusakabe. And to her and Yuta's right? Inumaki. So why is it that Hakari, Kiara, and Ino are in Kusakabe's place while Todo spawns where Inumaki is? (And Yuta is facing the wrong direction too.)

That's pretty fudging weird right? You can chalk it up to Gege forgor but it doesn't stop there. Higuruma enters the discussion in a way that causes Yuji to pause.

Why is Yuji surprised to see him? (And where the fudge did he come from?) Shouldn't he know of his survival by now? And why is he in a cast? Higuruma had learned RCT and fully restored his arms before leaving the battlefield. If he's conscious, then he should be able to heal himself fully no problems.

And that got me thinking... Why is Yuji still missing his fingers?

It was established that he kept his fingers unhealed to help with Yuta's plan. This means that if he won, he has no need to keep them missing. Yuji has fully regenerated missing chunks of his face, including his eye, and stomach. He has RCT just like Higuruma. But it doesn't end there either. Yuji's number of fingers on his left hand keeps changing.

4 fingers, 3 fingers, dubious amount of fingers, 5 fingers. Once again, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but JJK 270 came out and the same problem started happening with Megumi's scars.

The same mistake is made within the same set of panels and very big page. That's weird.

ONCE AGAIN, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but when these errors occur, like with Yuta mistakenly having his ring on in JJK 251, Gege will note the mistake outright. Gege has made no such comments for Yuji's fingers or the scars. This many “errors” in row when Gege has otherwise been careful with these features could indicate it really is on purpose. (Kind of like Sukuna's everchanging mask. The thing was just moving around and pulsing. That was deliberate not inconsistency.)

What does this mean?

I think it means what we are seeing isn't reality. After all, the most common way to tell if you're dreaming is being unable to count the number of fingers on your hands. Another way to tell is the distortion of faces.

Readers have noticed that something is wrong. The weird timeskips, the lack of lasting consequences, design inconsistencies, characters behaving like similes of themselves, death and pain being glossed over like it's nothing. It all feels so off. But it's still close enough to the original to be somewhat believable. ...Is that not what it's like to dream and not know you are dreaming?

Why is it that the chapter titled Dream's End ends with the hunt for a curse user whose ability is to distort the perception of reality?

Dreams and Delusions in JJK

We already know Gege weaves Buddhist symbolism and ideas heavily into JJK. I'm not an expert in Buddhism at all, so there's a lot of it that goes over my head. I decided to look into if dreams are significant in Buddhism and boy howdy are they. Quoted directly from the source:

"Dreams can be a message from a Bodhisattva, an ancestor, or a god, The intent of the dream may be to test the dreamer’s resolve: is he non-retreating (avaivartika) from Bodhi (enlightenment) even when sleeping? The purpose of the dream visit may be to communicate information vital to the dreamer’s well-being. The Buddha himself had five dreams of catastrophes, falling stars and worlds in collision just before his enlightenment. The dreams were sent to him not by a benevolent Dharma-protector, but by an malevolent sorcerer, intent on disrupting the Buddha’s samadhi and preventing his awakening."

In summary, (correct me if I'm wrong) dreams appear to be seen as another state of being just as valuable and impermanent as reality.

There's also this other bit I'll quote directly.

"The most common use of dreams in the literature of the Mahayana, or “Northern School” of Buddhism in China, Tibet, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam is to see dreams as a simile for sunyata, (emptiness) the hollow core at the heart of all component dharmas (things). For example, in the well-known Vajra (Diamond) Sutra, the Buddha taught that:

“All conditioned dharmas, are like a dream, like an illusion, like a bubble, like a shadow, like a dewdrop, like a lightening flash; you should contemplate them thus.”"

That's starting to sound like what Yuji's Domain does, right? He projects memories that did happen and mixes them with delusions and dreams. Sukuna and Megumi both experience this in full.

It's incredibly suspicious that it hasn't been named yet. Yuji is the son of Kenjaku who has a domain based on the Womb Sutra/Realm...which is paired with the aforementioned Diamond Realm to encompass the entire Dharma. It's very likely this is what Yuji's domain is—a realm of dreams and reality combined as one.

Unreality Runs in the Family

When Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" as the Culling Games begin, Kenjaku explains her situation with this:

What follows is a sequence that cannot be described as a dream. It seems to be a blend of reality and hallucinations. But that's not anything strange, Sukuna does it too with Kashimo in reverse.

As you can see, both the positions of the characters and even the backgrounds change suddenly from reality to ??? and from sequence to sequence. It's all incredibly dream like.

Another strange thing about this space is Kenjaku creating it as a part of an escape route Binding Vow. You know, the kind Sukuna uses for Malevolent Shrine.

What I want to draw attention to here is this reality-dream state somewhat requires consent (in the loosest possible definition) to appear. The person entering this state has to desire it themself. We see this with Jogo and Gojo who are mutually interested in having a relationship of somekind with Sukuna. (Same with Kashimo.)

(It's also very hard to tell if they are dead or still in the process of dying during this.)

This is where the delusions Yuji projects differ. They are forced onto others when he is near death or severely injured, seemingly as a defense mechanism.

And would you look at that...the syntax is identical for Todo and Choso's Brother Yuji Delusions. "At that moment, a memory was born inside X's brain...of a past event that never happened." It's kind of like how Yuji replaces Gojo in Megumi's memory to reach him. It's also very strange that Sukuna, Choso, and Jogo go "What is this?" to this in-between space.

My point here is that Yuji having access to this space has been hinted at since the start of this manga and that it was inherited it by blood. (Totally Not Kenjaku showing up with Takaba Mr. Reality Warping CT in JJK 270 supports my case too I think.)

What does this mean for JJK 268–270?

The battle ended in JJK 268. Of that I'm certain. What I no longer know is if anyone survived.

A common complaint about Sukuna's death is his lack of an afterlife scene. Everything ended so abruptly. And then Megumi wakes up.

It's so jarring in out of place. ...But that's how all scenes involving the space between dreams and reality begin. Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" once and then again. Most of us have experienced those kind of dreams right? (They made a whole movie about it called Inception which is based on the movie Paprika.)

There's one other thing I need to draw attention to. Yuji's Domain shattered after Sukuna cast Domain Expansion (DE).

When a sorcerer withdraws their domain voluntarily, it does not shatter. Gojo has demonstrated this for us in quite clearly.

When a domain is broken by force, it will shatter and shards will scatter. When a domain is withdrawn, no shards are left behind. Yuta uses these facts as a part of his plan. In JJK 252, it's revealed by Kusakabe that Yuta shatters his own domain on purpose to trick Sukuna into thinking he won.

What this means is that some kind of violent action needs to be taken to shatter a domain. Yuji's domain is massive and his attacks only targeted Sukuna. What could've shattered his domain all at once? He's not had the time to practice shattering parts of it like Yuta.

Gojo has shown us what a uniform domain shattering looks like—it happens when Malevolent Shrine activates. (Please note that the sfx used for Sukuna breaking Gojo's domain is カシャア. It's the same one used for Yuji's domain shattering.)

I'm proposing that we've been in unreality since the end of JJK 266. Sukuna and Yuji are both severely injured, on the verge of death, and have a connection with each other. These are all conditions that trigger the space between dreams and reality.

And I must remind you that Yuji first triggers this event with Todo after a severe head injury. Right before Sukuna casts his domain, they do this to each other.

Everything that has come after has been perfect for Yuji to a unbelievable degree. Everyone whose death was uncertain is alive and the living are getting exactly what they wanted. The effort behind it and the logistics are all missing. And yes a rushed ending can explain that, but that too can be part of the ruse.

Another massive complaint is that mourning has not occurred. Not for Gojo or Choso despite how much Yuji cherished them. It's like they're being willfully forgotten by the cast despite being crucial to their success in Shinjuku. It feels out of character, especially since Yuji is of the few that showed concern for them no matter what.

But if this is a delusion on the brink of death designed to bring happiness, why would Yuji think of the dead? He's always been so avoidant with it. When his grandpa is dying and trying to talk about his parents, Yuji tells him to shut up. When Nanami dies, he thinks of him then and then never again directly leading up to his talk with Sukuna. When Megumi tries to discuss Nobara's fate, Yuji ends the conversation as quickly as possible.

The only people in this world are the ones who may or may not be dead. He saw Yuta in Gojo's corpse. The only way that can happen is if Gojo is dead. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. Choso burned away before his eyes. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. He went through some of Megumi's memories and saw Tsumiki's corpse. Yuji has no choice but to believe it.

And since Tsumiki is the only person Yuji wasn't close with, she's the only death that has been outright acknowledged. But not for too long! That would make Megumi sad.

Another complaint is that Sukuna really didn't kill anyone in the final battle outside of those two and Kashimo. The dudebros call it Disney Kaisen. But the fairytale-like idea that everyone is ok? Todo was the one who put that idea in Yuji's head.

And Yuji has always been one to fall to story-like logic when things look like they're finally wrapping up.

"And then everything will be just fine." (Yuji before the worst possible outcome for both him and Megumi happens.)

This is similar to the line Gakuganji uses in JJK 270. "Everything is fine." This line is the whole reason I sat down and wrote this all out without stopping. I know Gakuganji. He'd never say that. This man has been in a state of worry over Jujutsu Society since his first appearance. He doesn't even fully believe in Gojo's cause as someone who values tradition. He's a stickler for details and will do everything in his power to ensure stability. For him to toss Sukuna and Tengen's remains in a shrine and call it a day? Who is that? He's changed but not that much.

And so I compared the raws.

It is very much the same 大丈夫 (Daijoubu). These are Yuji's words.

What I'm proposing is that JJK 267–270 are Yuji's delusions of the happiest possible ending. It's a picture perfect little end where all the trauma and death has no effect on the living and people move on like nothing happened. I don't know if this means he's dead or if Megumi's dead or if they're all dead. But what I'm seeing now? I don't think it's real.

Reexamining JJK 269

CW: Brief discussion of suicide.

Even if this turns out to be a part of the smokescreen, I'm always going to hate JJK 269. But I do want to give it some grace under the assumption this chapter titled Examination (which can also be translated as Reflection) is about Yuji's guilt. Both him and Megumi's tbh. I think their feelings for each other and their situations are driving these delusions. That's one thing about this space that's real—the feelings behind them.

Yuji has a lot of guilt surrounding his existence after ingesting Sukuna, Megumi does too. Straight up Yuji has been seeking death over it since JJK 9.

He struggles to forgive himself for being the centerpiece to violence he had little to no control over. The only thing that upsets him more than that is knowing that his death will break Megumi's heart. He doesn't want Megumi to feel any guilt for it whatsoever.

The kicker is, Megumi already knows Yuji is planning to die. And he wants to do everything to rid him of that guilt. Up until they connect inside of Yuji's domain, they were unaware they shared the same goal for each other.

And that's what JJK 269 is. It's a very cold and harsh breakdown that allows them to forgive themselves. Blame is passed around and ultimately pinned on a combination of Gojo and Kenjaku. (It's really weird Sukuna isn't blamed either, but that's not the point of this for now.)

Kusakabe's comment is especially harsh. Telling Yuji point blank he should've died and that both sides on the issue were valid? He may have believed that to an extent, but he made a point of not telling it to his face. Why have a whole chapter discussing how kind he is only to turn around and do this?

If this is all a delusion, a manifestation of Yuji's guilt and trying to absolve himself of it for Megumi's sake, that makes sense. This version of Kusakabe is what Yuji feels guilt over the most—Everyone's lives being better if he died.

In the same breath Kusakabe tells them to solely blame the adults. It's very reminiscent of Nanami telling Yuji that being a child is not a sin.

It should also be noted that every single time Megumi tries to apologize for being possessed, he's stopped. Maki tears into Yuta without checking in on him, but she asks if Megumi is ok and tells him to not blame himself. JJK 270 is full of this too. He tries to apologize to Tsumiki at her grave and Shoko tells him not to sweat it. He tries to apologize to Hana and she hits on him instead.

This delusion is crafted out of love. It allows Megumi to live in a world where he can move on from the guilt surrounding his possession and saving Yuji. It's all Yuji has ever wanted for him. And now that Yuji knows Megumi wants him to forgive himself, he has no choice but to do that too.

It's a perfect ending for Megumi that's too good to be true.

It must be a dream...

There's another thing I can't reconcile about JJK 269 unless it's a delusion—Todo's explanation for Yuta's plan. It's another one of those glaring contradictions.

In JJK 269 Todo claims Boogie Woogie can't target Maki. But in JJK 259? Todo makes plans with Mei Mei knowing that it works with her.

Either Todo lied...or Yuji never fully knew the plan and that Boogie Woogie could target Maki. Otherwise she would be dead. Her surviving Sukuna's flames would be impossible.

I've already talked about how Yuji believing those who may or may not be dead are alive is Todo's doing. He's always been the one to save Yuji from his breakdowns. But let's talk about his speech in Shibuya.

"Looking for meaning or logic in death...can at times defile the memories of those we've lost!"

Everyone who has read these past 3 chapters has really felt the defiling of Gojo's memory. And it was all in service to a strange logic that helped them cope with all this death. Acknowledging how massive Gojo's sacrifice was would riddle both Yuji and Megumi with immense guilt, so it's best to ignore it for Megumi's sake. (And perhaps that's why Yuji replaces Gojo in that memory.)

"What have you been entrusted with? You don't need to answer right now. However... Until you find your answer, never stop moving."

In a way, JJK 269 is an answer to the question Todo proposed. Yuji was entrusted with saving Megumi. Saving Megumi requires Megumi and Yuji forgiving themselves. And Yuji won't stop moving until it's done. All these time jumps and rushed developments are Yuji moving Megumi forward. He's getting that happy ending even if it's to the detriment of everything else.

What about Sukuna?

When Sukuna respects his opponents and they have a connection, he gives others these dreams before they pass. He's been very impressed by Megumi since JJK 9. It's not out of the ballpark for him to allow Megumi to die satisfied in the way Gojo did. Yuji also seems to understand that Sukuna was manipulated by others just as much as he was. I think that's why Sukuna is spared of the blame for the most part.

I don't think Sukuna won. He's probably dead. But he did warn Yuji not to underestimate him. I think the worst absolute last fudge you to Yuji he could give is this happy ending dream before ripping it all away as he dies.

In Conclusion...

I'm not sure that we're going to get that happy ending. Reggie Star warned us not too long ago.

"...it all comes down to a sorcerer's lies."

Reggie is a lot like Sukuna here, outwitted by modern sorcerers and dying to someone he loathes. Sukuna is good at tricking people. He let Gojo think he won before tearing it all away. Yuta did the exact same thing to him. Or did he?

"Can you do me a favor? After all, you've killed me. Let fate toy with you, become a clown, then die."

If the last 3 chapters are delusions...Megumi will be playing the part of a clown.

Gege said the manga would end with either 1/4 or 3/4 of Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and Gojo surviving. This of course, could be changed throughout its development, but Gege said the manga is ending in its original vision. There's a real chance that it's only Yuji or Nobara surviving.

Remember, Gege is a troll first and foremost. Somehow Gojo was revived, but in the worst way possible (Yujo). Somehow Gojo did tell Megumi about Toji, but in the worst way possible (dead man's final letter).

Gege also said this about the final chapter:

"I am working hard to create a final chapter that will (hopefully) satisfy as many people as possible who have supported Jujutsu Kaisen. So everyone, please bear with me!"

I can't think of a better way to appease everyone than by making the last 3 chapters nothing more than dream.

[roosterforme]

Just thinking about Jake finding Darlin taking a nap after her first or maybe just a long day at work.🥹

Jake would find an exhausted Darlin' napping after a long day at work.... with their son.

Training ran late, and Jake hated leaving you and Liam on your own for dinner when he wasn't even deployed. By the time he got to the locker room, it was almost 7:30. It would be 8:00 when he got home.

He contemplated calling and offering to pick up that nasty pizza you loved, but he wasn't sure how your stomach was feeling today. Instead, he parked at the house and let himself in as quietly as he could. Concern washed over him when he was met with silence.

"Darlin'?" he called out, checking the kitchen first. There were some remnants of a meal on the counter, so hopefully you and Liam hadn't waited for him. When he walked past the nursery, he found it empty with the lights out. It wasn't until he walked into his own beroom and saw the two of you that he calmed down.

You and he were both sound asleep in the bed, a stack of books next to his little body. Both of you were in your pajamas, and Jake had never seen anything so cozy in his life. Your pregnant belly was so big now, two-year-old Liam had to curl up a little awkwardly next to you, but he was holding your hand.

"Fuck," Jake gasped, his heart catching in his throat over how much he loved this. Liam's little brother would be here any day now, and it was a good thing you were getting some rest. He tried to scoop his snoozing so up and away from you, but he was holding tight to your hand.

"Liam, it's Daddy," he whispered, wiggling those little fingers until they relented.

"Daddy?" he asked in his sweet little voice as he opened his eyes. "Hi, Daddy."

Jake kissed his forehead. "Hey, kiddo. It's bedtime, okay? Did Mommy help you brush your teeth?"

"Yeah," he said with a yawn.

"Perfect. Let's go to bed."

He was sound asleep again in a matter of seconds, and Jake kissed him three times and whispered, "I love you," before returning to his own room where he moved the stack of books.

He decided he would skip dinner in favor of more time cuddling with you and got himself ready. As quietly as he could, he undressed and cracked the window open. The sound of the ocean calmed him as he turned off the lamp next to the bed and climbed in.

"Liam? Jake?"

Your voice was hoarse in the darkness as you reached your hand out.

"Darlin', it's just me. I put Liam in his bed."

Your arms went around his neck, and your belly pressed against him. "I'm so tired," you whispered. Jake held you tight, kissing your cheek as you yawned. "This baby is kicking my ass."

He smiled into the darkness realizing that pretty soon, he'd be running ragged after two little boys. "Any day now, the baby will be kicking both our asses. Try to go back to sleep."

It took him a second to realize you already had.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

As Much As I Do - No Love Lost One Shot

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: One-shot request from my love lordofthunderthr! Extra thanks because I've been waiting for the genuine smallest reason to use this gif because it's in no way going to fit into the actual story. Title from Bob Dylan by Fall Out Boy (you guys can pry my Fall Out Boy song titles from my cold, dead hands)

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. It's fluff. Horny fluff.

Ben felt like a fucking cat. She was touching him casually while he “slept” and he was pretty sure he was fucking purring. The Thing was definitely making some sort of goddamn low sound, and Ben couldn’t blame it. She was touching him like it was simple, his head was buried in Her neck, and one arm wrapped was between her body and the mattress while one splayed out across the bed because it goddamn could. He was in their fucking bed and Ben could do whatever the hell he wanted on it. 

Except fuck Her. 

Ben wasn’t allowed to fuck Her. 

He wasn’t allowed to make Her moan and scream and feel fucking good. Fuck Her until she said his name and smiled at him and looked so fucking perfect, undone below him. Or above him. Or against him or in front of him or clinging to his body. He didn’t give a single shit, as long as it was Her. Wanting Ben, touching him, letting him touch her. Like this—where Ben’s breath was in time with her heartbeat and her perfect hands were running through his hair—but until She’d been ruined. Until her beautiful face was flushed and her hands were clawing at his back and her pretty eyes were blown out and lustful and all of it was for Ben. For how he was making Her feel, how she was gasping and begging for him to do it again and again until the only words She knew were Ben and please and everything else was just moans and whines. Until she felt half as damn good as Ben did now, resting on top of Her as she fucking pet him and he had to fight the Thing’s urge to just stay here for the rest of goddamn time. 

“I know you’re awake, Benjamin.” Her voice was so perfect, humming everywhere around him and soothing the Thing, that Ben almost missed her actual fucking words. “I can feel you.” 

He didn’t answer. Maybe She’d just give up, and keep him right fucking here—where they both belonged—forever. 

He should’ve known better. Ben knew Her too fucking well to think she’d ever just let anything go. 

“You’re heavy,” She said, and one hand dropped to the base of Ben’s neck. “And you smell like shit.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I smell fucking fantastic.” Ben didn’t move as he grunted the words against Her skin. He wouldn’t move, not until she damn made him. 

“I knew it.” 

Clever, impossible, perfect fucking woman. With Her happy giggle when Ben squeezed her closer and her gasp when he nipped the skin of her neck.

“That’s a goddamn underhanded move, Sunshine.” He muttered, and when he looked up at Her it was like he’d been struck by lightning. She was smiling at him so gently, eyes still heavy with sleep, and so fucking beautiful. Just looking at him, watching Ben like she’d never want to look anywhere else. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pretty Boy.” She kept smiling at him, voice smug. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “You didn’t know I was awake,” he said Her name, and her smile widened. “You fucking baited me.” 

She shrugged, body shifting under Ben’s and making a small sound that sent a rush of pure fucking hunger through him. “Prove it.” 

Ben had a lot of favorite sounds She made. The small squeak when he flipped her body over his—sitting up with his back against the headboard and sliding her down his chest—was certainly on the damn list. 

“You’re a fucking menace, beautiful.” Ben pulled Her forward slightly, leaning down to growl in her ear. “I don’t think I’ll have to prove it. I think I’ll ask you again and you’ll just tell me.”

When Ben moved back, meeting Her eyes, he could feel her heartbeat under his hands. Resting right at the line of her shirt, never higher. Holding her right where he fucking wanted her. Against him, so when she squirmed he’d feel it. 

“Fuck yo-“ 

He didn’t wait to make a teasing remark or dirty joke. Ben just leaned forwards and touched Her. Kissed her pretty mouth until she opened for him, pushing his tongue in—almost down her throat—and just trying to get closer. As close as he was allowed to be, while still touching her more, making her feel good. Make Her hands pull at his hair, make her whimper a fucking perfect sound from her throat that Ben got to devour. He’d lost sight of his original plan, but he didn’t really fucking care. Not when he bit her lower lip and could revere in the way she leaned further into him, or when he had to try not to lose his fucking mind when she started to grind down on him. Started to practically fucking climb up his body. 

When Ben sucked on her tongue and she made maybe the best sound he’d ever heard in his life—unintelligible and breathless—he had to wrap his arms around Her and pull her into his chest. Hold Her there until he could get goddamn control of himself and not have to explain why he’d fucking cum in his pants. 

“Ben,” She whispered, head in his chest. “You really do smell terrible.”

He chuckled. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Can you please shower so we can train?” 

“I told you last night, we’re not fucking training-“ 

“And I told you, Benjamin, that I do not care what you told me.” She glared up at him, so fucking beautiful, and now Ben had to goddamn pretend he hadn’t already given in. “I am training, with or without you.” 

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.” 

She smiled at him. “But…?”

Ben rolled his eyes, leaning his head back, forcing himself to stop staring at Her perfect face. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“We’ll train.” 

“Thank you,” She kissed his neck, near his jaw, and hummed against his skin. “Now go shower. You smell like balls.” 

The only thing that kept Ben from taking a year in the shower—letting the Thing grab him and show him all the ways he could’ve just fucked her on the bed, buried himself in her and made her scream—was that sometimes, when they trained her singing, his doppelgänger would appear. It would make Her face flush, make her eyes wide and heartbeat quicken, and Ben would get to taunt her until one of them moved and he was kissing the air out of her lungs. It was something to look forward to. Something that made Ben fucking haul ass, getting in and out of the shower in four minutes flat. 

Ben hadn’t left the room when he realized that She was already singing. She’d gotten more comfortable with it, the longer they practiced, and sometimes would hum softly during movies or while doing normal things. Normal, easy things like laundry or dishes or cooking, simple fucking things that Ben got to share with Her. Got to watch how Her humming would send the world into a spiral of her, all the perfect fucking parts of her cast across the room for Ben to exist in. Colors and lights that he got to watch her sway in. 

This wasn’t that. This was singing. 

With words and instruments and a beat that ran through Ben’s body and bones. With the room turned into a dark club, with lights that flashed and changed in time with the bass. 

And She was dancing. She was singing and dancing and moving with the music like it had been made for Her. Like the rhythm had been designed to follow her legs, and the guitar had been made to move her hips. Like the whole fucking song had been perfectly tailored to her voice and how she moved through it. How she didn’t stop for even a second, never losing a breath, performing for no one like her life depended on it. 

It didn’t, but Ben’s life might. Everything in the world might hinge on letting her just dance like that forever. The Thing wanted all of this. All of Her, forever, like this, or it would fucking explode. Ben had no will to push against it. Not when She was dropping down and twisting and turning her body and so lost in it that she didn’t even see Ben. Falling to her knees and leaning back while her hands gestured with the lyrics. Trailed down her body and up again. Wrapping around her throat before falling to the side. Her whole fucking voice saying every word like it had been written for her, the whole face twisting with the emotions of the song, smiling and dropping into a pout and so fucking perfect. 

She only saw Ben when the song ended. When the club disappeared and they were back in the apartment, leaving Ben no longer hidden in the shadows of her illusion. He should probably feel like a goddamn creep, but Her mouth fell open and her heart picked up, so he couldn’t really bring himself to give a fuck.

“Hi,” She whispered, and Ben grinned at Her.

“Hello.”

“How long-“ 

“About three minutes,” he crossed the room until he was standing above Her. “Almost the whole fucking show.” 

“You, um, you showered fast.” 

Ben winked at Her. “I’d have showered faster if I’d known I was missing something. You do dance like a fucking slut.” 

She scoffed, wrinkling her nose at him. “That’s pretty high and mighty for the manwhore to say.” 

“It was fucking hot,” he lowered himself down until his nose was bumping hers. “I think I prefer your slut dancing, Sunshine. It’s more you.” 

“More me?” She gave him a flat look. “Fucking rude.” 

“How the hell is that-“ 

“You just called me a slut, Benjamin. That’s not very nice.” She whacked his chest, and Ben caught her hand. Held it there. 

“It’s more you because it’s fucking loud. Because it’s fucking captivating and hot. So fucking beautiful and good.”

Because it’s fucking perfect, the Thing rumbled. Because you’re fucking perfect. 

She was watching Ben with wide eyes. Opening and closing her mouth like she was going to say something. 

Instead, she fucking tackled him. Rammed Her body forward, crashed her mouth against his, and let Ben pick her up and carry to the couch. Training could fucking wait. Everything could fucking wait. She was making that same perfect sound from before, and her hands in his hair were making him groan, and when his hand started to kneed at her skin she made such a happy fucking sigh and Ben knew everything could wait. This was just Her. Making the Thing content and goddamn purr in his chest. Making Ben grin against Her neck when he sucked that one spot and she moaned his name. 

The whole world could go fuck itself. This was Her.

End Note: Let's all say thank you to @lordofthunderthr for some easy fluff in these dark times (Chapter 16 to a secret chapter number I cannot yet say).

I'm going to start a separate tag list for one-shots, so lemme know if you want to be added!

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

[alastwhorez]

may i request something where reader watches alastor undress. him slowly taking off his coat… sliding off the straps of his suspenders… rolling his sleeves up to his elbows…

Talking Body

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader

♡ summary: Alastor has been neglecting you lately, so he decides to give you a show.

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, stripping, needy reader, neglected reader, masturbation, voyeurism, bodily fluids, Alastor is a tease, pet names. I think that is everything.

♡ an: Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy! Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The day was long and boring. Being a stay at home wife you tend to run out of things to do by the end of the week. All the chores were finished and dinner was in the oven.

You were glad it was finally time for your husband to get home. You've missed him dearly. He has been working late hours at the radio station the past several weeks. Not returning home till late in the night, long after you have finally gone to sleep. This morning however Alastor had promised you he would be home on time. Telling you he had a surprise for you.

Since your husband has been working late he has started to neglect you intimately. Alastor was never one for physical contact but he always made sure you were taken care of.

You checked the clock and saw you still had about an hour before he should return Home and another twenty minutes for the food to cook. You decided it was a perfect time to take care of the ache between your legs.

You spread out on the couch, hiked your dress up over your hips and pulled the top down to expose your tits. Your hand trailed down your body till you found your Clothed cunt. You push your panties to the side and rub your finger up and down before finding your bundle of nerves. After a few minutes you slip a finger inside and start pumping.

You whine because it's not as good as Alastors cock, doesn't stretch you the same way. You speed up fingers trying to find release when the door slams Open.

Alastor is standing in the doorway with flowers and a shocked look on his face when his eyes land on you. You gasp and stop moving.

“My my my, what is my lovely wife doing?” He says smirking in a teasing tone.

Your mouth hangs open not knowing how to respond. “Couldn't wait for your dear old husband to come home? Tsk tsk tsk” He shakes his head back and forth. “Just what am I going to do with you darlin'?”

He shuts the door with his foot as he walks into the living room, playing the flowers on the coffee table. He grabs your hand and takes you to your shared bedroom.

He pushes you down gently to sit on the bed as he grabs a chair and places it in front of you in the middle of the room. He sits down and spreads his legs wide.

“I suppose I have been neglectful these past few weeks, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch yourself.”

You whine in embarrassment

“Now you're going to be a good girl and sit there and behave yourself. Bad girls don't get rewarded.”

You nod your head as you bite your lip

“You're going to keep those pretty eyes on me and you aren't going to move a muscle. Understand love?

You nod again and he whispers good girl.

You watch as Alastor takes off his jacket and hat, sitting them beside you on the bed, then you watch as he loosens his bowtie, pulling the fabric and twisting his head back and forth. Next he unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and slowly starts to roll the right sleeve, exporting his toned, tanned arms, next me moves to the left side rolling even slower.

His eyes stay on you the whole time, a slight smirk on his face when you fidget on the bed and play with your fingers.

He spreads his legs further apart as he trails his hand slowly down his body stopping at his belt, he tilts his head to the side when your breath hitches. Laughing he slowly undoes the buckles and makes a shower of pulling the leather out of his lands. He folds it up and sits it beside you.

He runs his hand back up his chest and stops at his bowtie. He removes it, throwing it towards you. He fists his suspenders before slowly sliding them off his shoulders and removing them completely. His hand then lands on the first button of his shirt. He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

Your legs are rubbing together at this point and you're fisting the sheets on the bed. Alastor is smirking at you as he continues to agonizingly Slow undoing his shirt. When He finishes he lets it hang open and you have to hold back a groan from how delicious he looks.

He slowly lets the fabric fall down his shoulders then His arms, letting it hit the floor. He leans back in the chair and stretches. You watch as his Muscles Flex as he moves. He raises an eyebrow at you as you rub your legs together harder.

His hands run back down his chest and stop at his pants. He lifts his hips up slowly then sits back down. He unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. His eyes are trained on you as he pushes them down his hips then down his legs. He folds them and sits them on the bed then he removes his socks next.

He's left in nothing but his boxers and you moan at the sight. He chuckles as your flushed face. You've hiked your dress back up because of your fisting the fabric. You can see the outline Of his cock and a wet spot forming on his boxers. He lifts his hips and slowly slides them down,leaving them forgotten on the floor.

You suck in a breath at his naked figure. His cock stands tall, leaking. He notices you biting your lip and decides to tease you some more. He wants to see how long you can control yourself.

He fists his cock, giving it a squeeze before lazily stroking it.

“Alastor” you say breathlessly and be chuckles

“What darlin'? I said good girls get rewarded and you've been a bad girl. Touching yourself While I'm Gone”

You whine

You can see the tip glisten from how much he is leaking. it's spilling over onto his fist acting as lubrication. He speeds up his first and moans your name as he throws his head back. While he isn't looking you lean back and spread your legs, pulling your panties down.

When Alastor looks back at you he is met with your cunt on full display and his breath hitches. You suck a finger into your mouth before it finds your bundle of nerves And you start rubbing. You throw your head back and moan, back arching.

He says your Name more stern this time and you moan out his name “Oh Alastor, faster”

He groans and his fist Matches the speed of your finger. Your other hand comes down and you slip a finger in then two. He cups his balls as he watches you matching your pace.

You're both moaning and growing, trying to outlast the other.

“fuck” He curses. Something he hardly ever does. “Look at you. All spread out and giving me a show. So pretty baby, prettiest I've ever seen ya.”

“Alastor! Yes, just like that” you scream as you add a third finger and speed up your pumping.

Alastor grits his teeth feeling his release coming. Your back arches as you feel yours.

“Squeezing me so well baby, pussy was made for me”

You moan feeling that familiar heat flood your senses. You scream his name as you cum all over your fingers.

Alastor moans your name, his eyes rolling back as he shoots his load all over his first. The sight of you pushing him over the edge.

You both sit there for a moment catching your breath. Alastor gets up out of the chair and crawls on top of you.

“That Was a good show darlin’ but how ‘bout I give you the real thing?”

[mustainegf]

This is a crazy sad idea I had the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I wake up to the pitter of rain against the windows. The air was dead, with the smell of old wood and the remains of cigarette smoke from the night before. The house held its breath. Lying there, in sheets that smell of memories, the leather and aftershave smell with the damp air and cleaving to everything in this room. His room.

James has left his space this way ever since, the mess of records that he insists have some sort of order, utter chaos to anyone else. Guitars leaned against the wall, scattered papers on the desk. Hard to tell, really. A few half empty beer bottles remained on the nightstand, one of them with the label peeling off where his fingers had unconsciously picked at it.

I sit up and blink away fogginess in my head. My body is heavy, I'm trying to move underwater. Really, I don't want to get up. I want to be wrapped in the warmth of this room, in the memories that lean against me from every corner. But I know I cannot stay here forever. The guys will be up soon, and we'll all gather in the kitchen, making laugh, eat whatever we can find, making plans for the day. It's 1987, and life moves fast. Even if I don't feel like keeping up.

Lately, James has been different. Quieter. Or maybe I'm just noticing things that were always there. The way he sometimes stares off into space, his fingers tapping out rhythms for his own ears. The way he lingers a little too long in doorways, expecting something or someone to appear. He doesn't talk about it, though. None of us do. We just keep going, acting like everything is okay.

Maybe he's downstairs already, fiddling with his guitar, a low hum of his voice humming along to whatever song's in his head. I smile at the thought. James Hetfield. My roommate, my best friend, and sometimes... I don't know what. Something more, maybe. Or something less. It's hard to define what we are.

I drag myself out of his bed and into my jeans,the necklace around my neck is getting heavier with the days. The little locket inside, the one I never take off, a picture of him. I rarely open it. I don't have to. I can pull up his face on the screen in my head anytime. Those diamond cut blue eyes, that wonky smile capable of illuminating the whole damn room.

I trudge softly down the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I used to joke this place was haunted, maybe the ghosts of musicians still waited here, looking for their chance at popularity. James would laugh at me for it, calling me ridiculous, but sometimes. Sometimes, I truly wish it were. And maybe it is.

But it's still an empty kitchen. No James, no one else. Just the light patter of rain, the ticking of the clock on the wall. My face droops immediately. He's probably out in the garage, messing with his guitar, or he went for a drive. That's what he sometimes does when his head needs clearing. I'm fine. I'll see him later.

I sit at the table, running my fingers over the grain of the wood in an absent circle. The house is too quiet. Too still. I shut my eyes and try to recall the last conversation we had, but it's all hazy, reaching for smoke. My mind drifts and for one moment, I might have sworn I heard him, his voice calling my name up the hallway. I snap my eyes open and my heart's racing. But there's nobody.

Just the house. Just me.

I shake my head, feeling pathetic. Need to stop doing this, stop waiting for things that aren't there. I'm not some little girl anymore.

But still… I was hoping the house was haunted.

I lie later on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, the Scorpions poster on his ceiling boring an image into my skull. The rain has calmed. I have no idea why I am in here. I should do anything else, do something else. Instead, I draw his pillow closer to me, inhaling into the now-faint scent of him that still clings to the fabric. I know if i keep breathing it in, it'll only smell like me. And that's no good.

I simply wish that he would just come back now.

I heard the opening of the door behind me, and my heart leaps half a second, hoping it is him, but it isn't. It's Cliff.

He steps inside, his eyes soft as they land on me, knowing exactly what's going on. That's always been him, kind and patient. He doesn't say anything, not for a minute or so, just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

And then I don't know why, but I just start crying. It's out of nowhere, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak into James' pillow like a hello. It's kind of really embarrassing, actually. I'm not a crier. But here I am, sobbing into James's pillow like some sort of broken thing, and I have no idea why.

Cliff says nothing more, but reaches out and gently brushes my hair from off my face, and I imagine his touch is James'.

"He loved you, you know," Cliff says in a voice soft enough that it caresses my slow heart.

My body freezes up. "What?

"James," he says, his fingers still moving through my hair, soothing me like I was a little girl. "He was crazy about you."   I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You don't have to say that, Cliff. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

But he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smile. He just looks at me with those sad eyes of his, chestnut hair falling slightly in his eyes.

"He was gonna tell you," Cliff whispers. "After the tour. He had this big, stupid plan. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make it all special, you know? He was nervous as hell about it, too."

Why is Cliff saying this? Why now?

Again, Cliff says, "He never had the chance." Cliff's voice is no louder than a murmur. "But he loved you. Really did."

I wrap myself into a tight, clinging ball with his pillow. "But he's still here," I choke. "James is… he's still here, Cliff. He's just… he's just out somewhere, right?"

There's such a long pause, when Cliff speaks again, his voice is full with a sadness that I don't want to recognize. But I do.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

I shake my head wildly, eyes refusing to believe what I already know is true. "No. No, he's not. He's coming back. He's just—"

"He passed, remember? Last year. The bus."

I stop breathing as the room tilts, heavy with fog, pushing against my skin, promising to smother me. I remember, yet I don't want to. I don't want to think about that night, the phone call, a feeling of my love slipping away.

"I saw him," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I swear, Cliff, I saw him. He was right here."

Cliff doesn't argue, won't try to reason with me. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me as I break apart. He strokes my hair, whispering soft words that I can't quite make out, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that James is gone. He's been gone for a year, and I've been living in this house, waiting for a ghost that will never come home.

Cliff lays me back down, tucks James’ blankets around me as if I am some sort of child. He doesn't leave, though. He stays beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"He really did love you," Cliff says again, much softer this time. "More than you know."

The house isn't haunted. At least, it isn't haunted the way I wish it was.

I still wear you in my locket, James. I always will.

And maybe someday I'll find you again.

[r0-boat]

Sitri x AFAB!reader x Amy

They both fuck you

Cw: breeding, slight baby trapping(Sitri saying questionable things), porn with little plot, Threesome, spit roasting, arguing, slight choking.

Amy is calm and Sitri fucking loses it lol

You don't remember how you got here... Your poor cunt getting brutally fucked by a devil while the other devil who is arguing with him is stuffed in your mouth.

Wait...Yes you do.

You need a devil's energy, and since everyone in Gehenna Who could help you was in a meeting, You stumbled around your vision, getting dizzy as your breath grew shallow, trying to find anyone in the castle. Anyone! You are so desperate. You could even feel The heat pulling between your legs as your body screamed at you to find someone.

Trying to focus on steadying yourself, You didn't notice the big figure in front of you. You ran face first into him, You swore you feel your head bounce off his chest.

"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING GOING!" The man snaps, but his eyes widen when he recognizes you. "Oh! I-I'm sorry. Please, you have to be more careful." His voice went from loud and demanding to soft and gentle in seconds.

But you don't answer as you try to keep your body from passing out. You cling onto the devil, your fingers digging into his white uniform that was half hazard tossed on his otherwise bare chest. You could almost recognize his voice, but you were too weak to think about it. The demon caught you in his arms as you almost collapsed.

"Oh fuck! h-hey take it easy! Are you okay?"

He asks as if you didn't just almost pass out.

"Oh yeah, you must be Solomon's child... Oh fuck. Shit! You don't look so good!"In preparation for scenarios like this, Satan informed everyone of your condition just in case you happen to be out and about and you need emergency devil's energy. Amy knew how urgent this was because he knew how important you were to Satan.

"So I just gotta put my dick in you, and you'll feel better? Okay, piece of cake."Amy muttered because he lifted you into his arms. He left papers he had prepared for the meeting scattered on the floor. Amy ran down the hall as fast as he could, cradling you in his arms in the first room he found clean and vacant. He practically kicks down the door, laying you on the couch.

Immediately, he begins tripping his clothing. He wasn't hard, not yet, But he did feel a little buzz looking at you, You're flushed face, and you're rising and falling chest, Your clothes that hugged your body just right yet leaving some for the imagination. Fuck... The two of you have interacted much, Not as much as Leraye or Piemon or even damn Sitri. But he knew why Satan liked you. Oh, he could absolutely see it.

His hands gently caress you as if stalling to rip your clothes off. He could feel heat flush to his face. You open your eyes seeing a familiar figure. "Amy, please... I need you so bad," You whisper in a breathy tone that stole his away. He nods his big hands beginning to strip you slowly.

It's been so long since he had been with anyone, let alone another human. They had different parts than the one he used to sleep with. Then a penis they had folds that looked rather inviting and quite tasty...

His body moved on his own as he left your legs up to run his tongue across your cunt. One lick, and you buck your hips, finally feeling some relief you desperately craved, but it's not enough. "Please, more!" You whine. Your fingers dig into Amy's locks, pulling him into you, which he happily lets you. His tongue slides inside your folds, and his eyes roll back at your taste.

'So sweet... So good...'

It wasn't before long that your juices so his tongue. He holds you gently yet firmly as he slurps at your gushing. He didn't even realize how close you were until your sweet juices flooded his mouth. His horns and cock were drooling, and his mouth was glistening with your cum. He licked his lips as he crawled on top of you. His lips meet yours as you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Tell me if it hurts. Please," He says. You nod. Your hands dig into his shoulders, bracing yourself as you watch his huge cock slowly begin to press itself inside you. When his cock glides inside you, you watch as Amy tilts his head up, His tongue rolling out at the tight squeeze. You wrap your legs around him, and being inside you becomes torture for Amy, but still, he is waiting, scared that if you move too soon, he might break you. But you are not having it. You needed his 'devil's energy' and you needed it now. "Move Amy!" You demanded, which startled him, but he nodded, moving his hips slowly at first until he started picking up the pace, a nice sensual, deep pace, each thrust going so deep, brushing against every spot, making your toes curl. It had been so long for the devil. He was a lot closer than he thought he would be. He tries to hold on and make you come first before he explodes inside you. He licks, sucks, and bites your neck, his hands running over and touching, manhandling your body, His rough hands scraping against your soft skin. You tighten around him and come on his cock, feeling your tight squeeze. He gives in, filling your cunt up with delicious devil's energy.

Amy holds you to his chest. He smiles at you. He opens his mouth to speak, but the door bursts again. A very familiar blue-haired devil stares at the both of you... In his office... On his couch, naked, smelling of sex. Hearing your heart pounding in your chest, he couldn't tell if it was from sex or the fact he caught the both of you.

"Explain." A single word falls from his lips, his tone just as icy as his gaze as he glares down at the both of you. Amy glared back, cradling you in his arms as if protecting you. Finally, coming back to your senses You fully recognize where you are and what's going on You take a deep breath, and your eyes widen, stunned for a moment. You stutter, trying to form words, but Amy cuts you off. "I found them in the hallway They looked awful and they needed devil's energy if I wasn't there they would have died."

Sitri gives you an unreadable expression. His eyes widen, but his face is blank. He looks at both you and Amy. You could steal your heart, jumping out of your chest as you see Sitri clutching his fist and his fingers digging into his palms.

"Solomon."

He smiles, saying his nickname for you in a sing-song tone. The click of his shoes fills your ears as he steps closer.

"You want more right?"

In one hand movement he rips Amy off of you throwing him to the ground.

"Because I can't imagine a devil-like this satisfying you!" He growls, ripping his clothes off; his eyes are wild with burning anger, lust, and hot jealousy. Amy could only watch from the floor as Sitri grabbed you roughly, pinning you to the arm of the couch. You let out a loud, sharp squeal feeling his cock enter you in one thrust. Amy watched your eyes roll back as Sitri's pace was immediately rough and fast.

"This is how you satisfy Solomon!" He hisses through his teeth. "I know them better than anyone to know that they like being fucked like a cheap whore!"

Amy wanted to help you. His heart raced at how rough his rival was treating you, but at the same time, he didn't want to be left in the dust. He didn't want to sit by and watch as Sitri took you from him. And with your mouth occupied, drooling as you stare down at him, licking your lips, how could he not give you what you're so desperately asking?

He could feel his cock already hardening once again as he stood up. Your eyes light up as his dick dangles in front of your face. You open your mouth obediently; Amy nuzzles his fingers in your hair as he slowly pushes his dick in your mouth.

Sitri was quick to notice. "That's why you'll never satisfy them like I do, too gentle, too soft! You're lucky that I'm letting your diseased dick even near them!"

Your eyes flash a little bit as you feel Amy's cock twitch in your mouth as Amy growls back. "You're too rough! If this is how you treat them, then you'll be the reason why they go back to Earth!"

Sitri lets out a dark, crazed chuckle that makes you clench. "They will not leave me. I will not let them; I will trap them here any means necessary-!"

He leans down, whispering into your ear, wrapping a hand around your throat, feeling your pulse along with the stretch of your throat around Amy's shaft. "If I have to breed you, pump you full of my spawn, then so be it!"

Your eyes roll back. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered something so heinous, so dark, so delicious You go over the edge, and coming on his cock, your orgasm rips through you as you moan on Amy's dick. You milk Sitri as he explodes inside your pussy. His hips are still deep inside you, making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

And Amy feels your throat vibrate against his cock. He cums, sinking his teeth into his lips, trying failing not to moan too loud as he grinds into your face. You eagerly drink up every last drop of warm demonic seed going into your belly.

Three of you collapse, shuffling to the couch to demons on either side, their hands on your thighs, touching you and snuggling against your body.

For the first time, they did not argue; they just sat there enjoying your company, too tired to say anything negative towards each other.

[cuubism]

last year I saw this 1989 Dreamling art by @webonchin, became extremely obsessed with it, pondered and mulled over it for much time, and now ten whole months later I have a fic

--

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, 1989 Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Meeting, Musician Dream of the Endless, Stockbroker Hob Gadling, Love at First Sight, Getting Together, New York City, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Queer Themes, Disillusionment, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Depression, tfw you meet someone who makes you want to change up your whole life Summary:

Despite Hob's success on Wall Street, life is starting to feel meaningless. Limitless sex, drugs, and money should be endlessly entertaining but instead he's bored, he feels empty, like something's missing.

Something, maybe, like the beautiful, tragic musician he meets at a party, who opens more than one new door in Hob's life--and reawakens the buried longing in his heart.

--

Hob lies on the couch of the crowded apartment he’s found himself in for the evening, head tipped back over the arm. Pounding music thumps distantly around him. Dim lights. Warm bodies moving in blurs. He ignores it all. Picks up his vodka soda from the coffee table and takes a swig. Half of it runs over the side of his mouth instead of into it.

He’s… bored. What’s wrong with him that he’s bored surrounded by as much drugs, sex, and general debauchery as he could possibly want?

But he is. All that climbing for so long and now… he doesn’t know where he is. Why he’s doing any of it. The climb, the growth, was fun for a while. Chasing hunger, chasing more, that was fun. But now he has all of it. Supposedly.

He sighs. Pours the rest of his drink inelegantly into his mouth. If he wants another one he’s going to have to get up. He doesn’t really feel like getting up. He feels like merging himself with the couch instead.

The party spins on around him, as it always does. Not everyone’s feeling as burnt out on sex, drugs, and debauchery as Hob is.

He could go track down some coke, he thinks hazily. Someone here’ll have some. Maybe it would kick his energy back up.

He just feels kind of tired at the thought.

It says something bad about the point he’s reached in life that even cocaine isn’t doing it for him anymore.

“This is very dull,” says a low voice, and a man slumps down beside him, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. He tilts his head back, looking up at Hob. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah,” Hob says, and then does a double take as he catches a proper look at the man.

Christ but he’s gorgeous. Nothing like the men Hob would normally see at a thing like this—nothing like Hob himself—with their fashionable suits, slick hair, slicker smiles. This man is lithe and sprawling, like a wild predator, stark black and white lines, spiky hair, dark makeup, studs flowing down his ears like raindrops. Clever eyes. Long fingers clutching a cocktail that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in.

Hob is instantly fucked.

“I was promised good drugs and better sex and I’m bored on both counts,” the man continues. He takes a sip of his drink, and grimaces.

“That why you’ve come over here?” Hob asks. “Because I looked equally bored?”

“Exactly.” He offers the drink to Hob. “You should try this.”

Hob takes it. It’s… very blue. “What the hell is this?”

“There was a girl working the bar… very drunk. She said she would make me her ‘special potion.’”

That sounds… questionable. Hob takes a sip, and chokes. “Christ.”

“I witnessed her pour in vodka, Prosecco, and tequila. Blue Curaçao—for color, of course. And maraschino cherries.” He plucks one out of the glass by the stem—there are about seven of them total—and eats it.

“What the fuck.” The stuff’s revolting. Hob takes another sip. “That’s alcohol poisoning in a glass.”

“It’s been one of the better parts of the night,” the man says.

Hob returns the glass, and the man tosses more of the drink back, his throat working. Hob’s just drunk enough to not attempt to stop staring like a creep. He wants to ask him if he wants to get out of here, or even just to steal away into one of the many spare bedrooms—it wouldn’t be out of place at a party like this, hell, Hob could drag him into his lap on the fucking couch, everyone’s far too drunk to care—but propositioning this creature for a mere hookup feels like wearing an Italian suit to mud wrestle. What a waste of a perfectly-made thing.

How did something like this wind up at this party?

“Who’d you come in with?” he asks, as the man plucks another cherry from the glass and delicately bites it off the stem.

“Someone who gave me a rather mediocre blowjob after a show,” he says. “I suppose I thought I would find better here, but I was mistaken.”

“Fifty-fifty shot on that, I’d say,” Hob says. Based on personal experience. Sometimes mediocre is good enough. Sometimes sex, regardless of quality, is good enough. For a while it has been. He’s not so sure anymore.

“I dislike betting,” says the man. Then stretches up a limp hand to shake Hob’s. “If we are to commiserate, perhaps names are in order. I am Morpheus.”

Morpheus. What kind of name. Though he had said at a show. A performer of some kind? “Hob,” says Hob, shaking his hand despite the awkward angle.

“Greetings,” says Morpheus solemnly. “You are the first man I’ve met tonight who has not tried to impress me with inanities. I am indebted to you.”

Hob tips his head back against the arm of the couch again with a sigh. “Too tired for bullshit. What’ve people been saying to you, then?”

“I have been taught much,” Morpheus says seriously. “Thrice I have been ‘educated’ on the great promise of ‘mortgage-backed securities.’ The reactions to my disinterest ranged from offense to outright concern for my sanity.”

“I think they were just trying to get in your pants,” Hob tells him.

Morpheus frowns. “The finance lecture was not helping their case. In fact, with each passing minute, I became more aggressively repelled.”

Hob laughs. “You’re on Wall Street, baby,” he says. It comes out kind of slurred. “Only thing more important than the size of a man’s dick is the size of his portfolio.”

Morpheus hums in consideration. “Neither of those has a direct correlation to talent.”

“Try telling them that,” Hob says.

Morpheus sits up straighter against the couch, leaning his head on his arm to study Hob. “I suppose I should ask about yours.”

“You’re too pretty for me to be tacky like that,” Hob says honestly. Maybe he’s a bit more drunk than he thought.

“Am I?” Morpheus seems pleased.

“So pretty.”

“Hmm.” Morpheus rests his cheek on the couch cushion. The tips of his hair brush Hob’s hip. His eyes are so liquid in this light. Hob wonders if he’s hallucinating his existence.

He reaches out, mesmerized, to touch Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus doesn’t stop him. He lets Hob pet him, eyes falling shut. His hair is tacky on the ends with hair spray, but soft underneath.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Hob says, and Morpheus hums. “All those self-important stockbrokers trying to impress you with their convoluted financial instruments… they just want to hide that it’s all really a scam.”

“Is it now?” says Morpheus. “I was under the assumption it was legal.”

“Something can be a scam and technically legal. Oh, it’s all very clever. But it’s just building money on top of money with nothing real to support it. Kick out the base of the tower and it’ll all go into free fall.” He makes a whistling, falling sound, and Morpheus smirks.

“And I suppose you are better than all this.”

Hob chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m a money-grubbing little vermin, too. Just letting you in on the game. How it’s not so serious.”

“Hmm. I am a musician,” says Morpheus. As Hob figured, then. “I’m afraid it’s as serious as death.”

“Hence the all-black ensemble and the makeup,” Hob says.

“Indeed.”

Hob wants to hear Morpheus play. Or sing, or whatever it is he does. He bets he’d be exquisite. Divine. Hob can imagine those lips pressed to a microphone. Or those long fingers on guitar strings.

“Do you want something more interesting than alcohol?” says Morpheus.

“Why, you still bored?”

“Less and less so.” He pulls from his pocket a small bag of pills and hands it to Hob.

“You brought your own drugs to a party where you were promised drugs?”

“Promises cannot be counted on,” says Morpheus seriously.

“What is it?” Hob asks, then decides he doesn’t care, and takes a pill, chasing it with the watery last drops of his drink, which is a terrible idea, but then, he’s full of them.

“Ketamine,” says Morpheus. Oh, great, Hob thinks. Morpheus takes it back from him and takes a pill himself. “It occasionally makes me feel less like I am going to hurl myself from the balcony.”

He doesn’t seem to be joking. “Good for something, then,” Hob says. “Why do you want to jump off the balcony?” He still has his hand in Morpheus’s hair. He honestly can’t believe he hasn’t propositioned him yet. That’s not like him. These parties are usually only good for quick, casual sex. He even thinks Morpheus would probably agree, and yet.

“The state of things,” says Morpheus. He has such a deep, solemn voice. Hob wants to touch his mouth, or throat maybe. Okay, this is already not going so well. “And the state of my heart.”

Hob pets his hair again. Morpheus leans into the touch. “Writing songs about yearning and angst and stuff isn’t fixing it?” He can well enough guess what Morpheus’s music is probably like.

“No,” says Morpheus. He seems to really think about it. “I think it is making things worse. Perhaps I will try manipulating the financial markets instead. Is that giving you existential fulfillment?”

“There’s only so much money you can make before it starts feeling stupid,” Hob says. Maybe he should just throw all his cash out the window and go live in the woods or something. Carve figurines out of fallen trees. Probably do more good for the world, not that that’s ever been a focus of his. “Maybe it was always stupid.”

“No solution has been found for us yet, then,” says Morpheus. “Would you care to go outside? I find that if you are high enough, the city lights look like stars.”

“You’re not going to jump off the balcony, are you?” Hob asks, suspicious.

“This is not the right locale for my dramatic end.”

Somehow, Hob actually believes him. Morpheus wouldn’t truly kill himself unless it could have the right effect.

Hob levers himself up from the couch. Oh Jesus, now the room is spinning. The pounding music is starting to feel louder, starting to thud through him. Feels good, though. Everything being bright and hazy.

He helps Morpheus to his feet. Leads him, hand in hand, out to the balcony. They lean against the stone wall, looking down at the street, dizzyingly far below, cars poking along like lines of luminescent ants, distant horns crying. Then up, out at the collision of skyscrapers.

Morpheus was right. The lights are spinning and twinkling, just like stars. It reminds Hob of the first time he’d come to New York, when he was looking for adventure, and to get a little rich—or a lot rich—and everything had seemed like it was glowing and buzzing and flying.

The air is clearer up here than down on street level, and Morpheus tips his head up, breathing it in. His throat is so long, his shoulders and collarbone so angular. He looks like he’s been starving. But the stud in his ear at least looks from afar like a real ruby. Intentional, then, to be skin and bones.

“I think I am tired,” he admits, still looking up at the sky. “Do you know that… all I had ever wanted was for someone to like my music. And now I have that and it has not fixed anything.”

Hob takes his arm and pulls him close. He’s feeling very touchy-feely now, which could be the drugs but could also just be Morpheus. He’s so pretty and he looks so sad, and his sadness is beautiful and all the more terrible for that.

“I could kiss it better,” he offers. It’s still not a real proposition. Hob’d just kiss his hand if that’s what he wanted. Or the sharp bone of his sternum under those hanging necklaces. Or kneel at his feet and kiss his thigh—

Christ. Hob’ll be lucky if he survives the night, at this rate.

Morpheus looks at him, eyebrow raised. But Hob must look serious about it, because he says, “Okay.”

So Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. And Morpheus smiles, a bright, truly happy smile, just for a moment.

“Do you wish to dance?” he says. “I do not usually, but I feel I may fall over if I move from this wall without something to hold onto.”

Yeah, the floor is kind of moving. And Hob will certainly not turn down having Morpheus in his arms. “You wanna dance to this shit?”

They’re playing some godawful thumping grating song over the speakers now, and Hob doesn’t think either of them is up to the kind of bouncing thrashing dance that would call for.

“I will sing something different in your ear,” Morpheus says.

So Hob draws him in, wraps his arms around his waist. Morpheus plasters himself to Hob’s body, mouth to the shell of Hob’s ear. He starts humming a low, melancholic song. Hob shivers at the brush of his voice.

They sway together with very little coordination. Eventually Morpheus starts singing, though Hob’s brain isn’t capable at the moment of taking in many of the lyrics. It’s something about longing, and losing things in a terrible fire. Hob presumes it’s one of his songs. Morpheus’s voice is gorgeous, low and hypnotic, and Hob closes his eyes as it rumbles straight through him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs eventually, filled with a sudden tragic pain about it. “Please don’t throw yourself off the balcony.”

Morpheus chuckles. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Never,” Hob says vehemently, and clutches his warm body close. He might cry about it. Fucking drugs. “We should go get food. You’re so fucking bony I think might you die of an overdose if we don’t sop it up. You had that wretched drink, too. Christ.”

“You are worried for me?” says Morpheus, sounding touched.

“Incredibly. Come on.” Hob finally pulls away from him, with chagrin, and takes his hand. “This party’s shit. I’ll take you to get pizza.”

“Pizza,” Morpheus repeats, with a tiny smile. It’s gorgeous on his face. “Very well.”

--

One dollar pizza is one of New York’s greatest inventions, in Hob’s opinion. They find some hole-in-the-wall place barely a block from the apartment building, and stand outside the door, eating incredibly greasy pizza off of paper plates, and it’s fucking heaven. It might be the best pizza Hob’s ever had in his life—granted he’s still very high.

Morpheus is scarfing his down like all pizza on earth is about to be chucked into space. Poor bony thing. Hob just wants to feed him up until he stops looking like a skeletal waif that’s about to drop dead at a cold breeze.

And wants to fuck him, too. Yeah, that’s still there, even with Morpheus licking grease off his fingertips. It’s actually getting worse because of that.

“Told you,” Hob says. “Needed some bread to soak up the fifteen shots in that drink.”

“I think I may throw up,” Morpheus says, with the careful articulation of someone who very well might. “But I am enjoying it nonetheless.”

“Let me know and I’ll find you a bin,” Hob says. He’s had worse nights than puking on the street corner.

“Now I owe you sexual favors in return for this generous meal,” says Morpheus, folding the empty paper plate with surprising precision, considering his enduring level of intoxication, and sliding it into a nearby trash bin.

It says something about Hob’s own level of intoxication that he barely responds to this statement. “Oh, yeah, the whole four dollars of it. What does that get me?”

Morpheus scrunches his nose in thought. “Two kisses,” he decides.

“We’ll save it for after you’ve decided if you’re going to throw up.”

Morpheus giggles. He’s so cute.

Hob tosses his own plate, and takes Morpheus by the arm. “Come on. You can come back with me. I don’t live that far.”

“Ah, now the proposition,” says Morpheus, but doesn’t sound unhappy about it.

“The ‘make sure my new friend doesn’t get hit by a cab effort’, more like, but sure.” He feels kind of responsible for Morpheus now. If Morpheus actually threw himself off a balcony Hob would never forgive himself.

“Friend,” repeats Morpheus, sounding pleased.

“See, isn’t this better?” Hob says.

“Better?”

“You got to eat pizza and didn’t even puke yet, isn’t that better than killing yourself?”

Morpheus huffs. “Quite a dichotomy. If you recall you too stated that you felt your efforts becoming meaningless.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna jump out a window about it.”

“Fortitude,” Morpheus says, and it sounds mocking but Hob doesn’t really mind. Maybe it is fortitude, he doesn’t know. Maybe to Morpheus fortitude is gullibility, continuing to play the game when it’s long lost its spark and its reward. Hob likes the game, though.

“What will you do about it, then?” Morpheus asks.

“Dunno.” It’s the first time Hob’s really thought about it. Up until now, it’s been about chasing. Always wanting more. But now— now he’s basically at the top. Where he wanted to be. And... there’s really nothing there at all. “Leave New York, maybe.”

The words surprise him, even as he says them. Midtown is so bright, even at four a.m. It’s something Hob once loved about the area. About the city. But now he’s staring into Morpheus’s darkness. Into the ink stain of his hair against the glowing storefront lights, the sway of his body, graceful even while swimming in dissociation. And everything feels different.

“To go where?” says Morpheus.

“Back to London, maybe.” He has enough money to go anywhere. And yet, it’s hard to feel a particular point to anywhere. Where’d his sense of adventure go? His ambition? Somewhere it all slipped, in the glut of the present.

“I grew up in London,” Morpheus says. “It is too personal there, now.”

So he’s chasing something too. Or running away.

“Tokyo, then,” Hob says, as if Morpheus coming with him is a key part of the decision. “Is’at the furthest city from New York? Gotta be close.”

“It’s Perth,” says Morpheus.

“You’ve looked it up?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. “And from London: Wellington.”

“It’s settled, then,” says Hob.

“I am coming with you?” says Morpheus.

“Course.” Hob’s not going across the world by himself. Not anymore. He bumps his shoulder with Morpheus’s, squeezes his arm where they’re leaning together. “You’re coming with me.”

“We should go further, then,” says Morpheus.

“Antarctica?”

“Mars.”

Hob finds himself giggling, mirth rising in him like champagne bubbles. Morpheus giggles, too. It’s truly a ridiculous sound in his deep voice.

“They don’t have cool jackets on Mars,” Hob says, poking at Morpheus’s studded blazer.

“Ah.” Morpheus frowns. “Maybe not, then.”

That only makes Hob laugh louder, leaning on Morpheus’s arm, and Morpheus sighs, irritated to be made fun of, but doesn’t push him away.

“Come on, I’m here,” Hob says, steering Morpheus into his apartment building as it comes up. They make their way across the lobby and to the elevator bank, only a little unsteady, and then slump against the wall once the elevator doors close.

“I think I am very sleepy,” Morpheus says, tipping his head back against the mirrored wall as they go up, up, up the insanely tall skyscraper Hob’s for some reason chosen to live in.

“You think you are?”

Morpheus squints at the infinite tunnel being created by the opposing mirrors on the walls. It’s dizzying, more so now, when they aren’t exactly sober. He shudders and closes his eyes. “I would have to be connected to my physical form to know for sure.”

Yeah, Hob’s feeling that too. The walls are kind of tipping in at him, which is particularly uncomfortable when they’re mirrored. “I’ll put you to bed, sweetie.” He still really, really wants to bed him, more specifically, but he might also be about to fall over. He’ll rue the missed opportunity in the morning, but it can’t be helped.

“Sweetie,” Morpheus echoes, with vague distaste, and tips his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The doors slide open, and they stumble out into the hall. Hob somehow manages to get his keys in the door and get them inside without dropping Morpheus, who’s now using him to support almost his entire weight, and then gets them into the bedroom.

What follows is a dreamlike whirlwind of undressing, where the floor keeps tipping under him, where he tries to hold Morpheus up as he slips out of his boots and his bloody complicated jacket, his skintight jeans and even tighter shirt, helps take each ring off his slim fingers to leave carefully on the nightstand, and the pendants too, and gives him a t-shirt to sleep in, and Morpheus says, “Wait— I must—” and flees to Hob’s adjoining bathroom to strip off his makeup with some makeup wipes scavenged from Hob’s cabinet, undoubtedly left behind by a prior hookup. The silly thing talks about killing himself but still puts effort into skincare. Hob just shakes his head, then regrets it as it makes the room spin.

He strips down to boxers and undershirt and climbs into bed, because he is actually about to fall over, and soon enough Morpheus stumbles back out and collapses into the sheets beside him. For a moment they just gaze at each other in the dark. Hob means to do something, to kiss him, maybe, claim one of the ones that was promised. But exhaustion claims him first. 

[scarletwinterxx]

but on a wednesday in a cafe i watched it begin again - kim mingyu imagine

hiiiii - okay i'm so so so inlove with this one. may i say this is half inspired by real life scenarios haha anyways i hope you like it!

alsooo just a thought, would anyone want to be mutuals on X?

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

10 years ago

"Kyeom, I'm gonna go. I have assignments to do"

"What noooo, the game's just about to start" he mutters, he even kick feet like a little kid

"Then stay, but I'm going" you didn't even give him a chance to say anything because you're already out the gym doors. Your bestfriend used to your attitude at this point, he lets you be.

You pull your bag on your shoulders as you walk towards the school gates, some students were also on their way out since classes are done. Just as you were about to exit, someone calls your name making you look back.

When you spot who was calling you, confusion took over your face. Wondering why Kim Mingyu is here running after you when he should be inside with the basketball team.

"Hey, glad I caught you" he smiles at you.

Kim Mingyu, the guy who's known across all campus. He's the star student, all the teachers like him, he's never missed a class, he's good at studying, never the troublemaker, has a big circle of friends and an even bigger number of admirers from all across the school.

"What's up, do you need something?" you nonchalantly replied but that didn't deter him one bit

"Yea uh actually I wanted to ask you out" he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes as he waits for your answer

"Me?"

"Yea, I like you"

"Oh uh thanks. But I'm not really looking for that type of thing right now"

You watch the smile fall from MIngyu's face before it comes back again, it doesn't quite reach his eyes though. You notice.

"Oh"

"Yeah, sorry but uhm goodluck on your game though. I'm gonna go now" you wave goodbye before going your way. Not once turning to look back where Mingyu was left standing.

The rest of your high school life flew by like that. You still mostly kept to yourself, a few close friends, never really wanting to have any eyes on you. Mingyu never contacted you after that. You two acted like strangers once again, his confession something only you and him know.

Present Day

"Did you get the invite?" Dokyeom asks the moments he enters your apartment. After all these years, he's still your bestfriends. Most of your 'friends' from high school you've already lost contact with, you realized you were only friends with them only because you saw them everyday. Not many of them really made the effort to keep in contact, you can't blame them though since you didn't either.

But that's life. People come and go.

"For?"

"Our high school reunion, please tell me you're going"

"I did get it, and no I'm not going"

"What? Why? It'll be fun" he still does this thing where he stomps his feet like a kid when you say no to him, annoying but he's your bestfriend so you learned to put up with it.

"I don't even talk to anyone from high school apart from you"

"I'll be there, you can talk to me" he weakly reasons out, trying to plead with you is like trying to move a cement brick wall. He knows it's a losing battle but he still tries anyways.

"You won't stop bugging me unless I go, won't you?"

"You know me too well"

"Fine, but I'm not staying long"

"3 hours tops"

"2, take it or leave it"

Leave it to Dokyeom to make sure you're actually coming because by 5pm the day of the reunion, he came to your apartment even though you're taking your own car since you don't plan on staying as long as him.

"Oh you actually got ready" he says when you open the door

"I don't want another long message from you, let's go before I change my mind"

The two of you drove separately to the venue, as an introvert you admit when you got there you already want to go home. You see the familiar faces, already dreading the amount of small talks you have to do for the rest of the night. Cursing Dokyeom in your mind.

Your bestfriend didn't even give you a chance to step back inside your car before he's pulling you inside, saying hello to everyone on your way in. He's always been the nicer one between the two of you.

The two of you grab some snacks and drinks before continuing on meddling with your former schoolmates. Your social battery draining drastically by the second when you hear Dokyeom almost scream from beside you,

"Kim Mingyu! Yo dude you made it"

You look over where Dokyeom went, watching him give a bro hug to the guy. There Kim Mingyu stands, still as handsome as ever. A lot of years passed by but he still looks the same, just even better now.

The years have indeed been kind to him.

With everything happening around you, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. A few moments away from sneaking out but Dokyeom catches you once again before you can even give it a try

"Y/N's here too, you remember Mingyu right?"

You wanted to step on your bestfriend's shoes to make him shut up but instead you just shoot him a tight lipped smile before turning to the taller guy,

"Hi"

"Hey, it's been a while. I haven't seen you since... graduation"

"Yea, you too"

End of conversation.

You're still the same, Mingyu thinks. You're still the same girl he liked back then, you're still just as hard to read, still answering with single sentences, still beautiful like the day you broke his heart.

He wonders how you've been since then. Are you dating anyone or are you still out there breaking other guys' heart with your cold demeanor. He's still friends with Dokyeom and last he heard you've been doing okay. No mention of a boyfriend.

You don't give him a chance to ask any question, you say something to Dokyeom before walking towards the door

"Is she alright?" he can't help but ask

"Oh yea, she's being her usual self. It's a miracle I even got her to go tonight so I won't even be surprised if she's about to sneak home now, I'll just call her later"

"You two still close?"

"She's my bestfriend, dude. Of course we are, we're like twins ya know. Anyways how's the cafe going"

Mingyu hangs out with Dokyeom for the rest of the night, they didn't really run out of things to catch up on. He can't help but wonder how two very different people manage to stay close friends. But then again it's Dokyeom, one of the nicest guy he knows. At the end of the day, he's glad you're friends with someone like him.

The next day Dokyeom calls you to bombard you with stories about the reunion that you missed when you came home, he goes on and on about catching up with Mingyu then some other people from your batch you don't even talk to anymore but you listen anyways.

After the phone call, you get ready to go to work. You go on with your routine and before you know it you're done with your 9-5. That goes on for the rest of the week.

Some people hate it but you liked having a routine, it drives you crazy when things don't go your way.

Like tonight, your workmates all but forced you to come with them for afterwork drinks. You wanted to decline but you already done so many times so they made sure you come with them this time.

"Okay okay so what if you're in a room full of all the people you ever liked, who would you go to?"

Everyone take turns to answer until all head turns to you, "Oh me?"

"Yea, come on spill the details girlie we won't tell" one of your workmate jokes, clearly drunk

You take a few more seconds to think before you say your answer

"I guess this guy I rejected in high school"

"What? Oh my gosh whoooo, tell us tell us what happened" they excitedly ask

"Oh no big deal, just a guy. He was nice, like really nice. I liked that about him, but uh I guess high school me wasn't ready for any kind of commitment so I rejected him. I choose him because I want to apologize, that's all"

"Aw did you hear that? that's so cuteee"

"So where is he now?"

"I don't know, I never really kept in touch"

You grab your glass so you can avoid any more questions, after an hour to tell them goodbye since you still have to go to work tomorrow.

And as expected you woke up with a slight headache, even though you wanted to stay in bed for the day you know you can't. You get up and get ready for the day, planning to stop by this cafe your workmates keep on mentioning on your way to work.

Good things it's still early, when you got the cafe there were only a few people inside. You can smell the freshly brewed coffee and pastries on the stand.

"Next, Hi goodmorning what can I get you?"

"Hi, can I get an iced Vanilla Latte and a bagel with cream cheese to go? Thank you" you say your order while the cashier notes it down "Okay, for a moment I'll just get your order ready"

"Sure" you wait on the counter for your order, checking the other pastries and the menu board.

Mingyu was at the back, getting some stocks ready for the day when he spots someone on the counter. He had to do a double take to make sure it was you standing in his cafe, immediately a smile forming on his face as he watch you look at the display case.

You're too lost in your own world to notice him now standing Infront of you so he clears his throat to get your attention, "Can I get you something else, see anything you like?" he asks

He can see you weren't expecting to see him here, out of all places.

What in the twisted fate was this, you think to yourself.

"Oh uh the other barista already took my order" you tell him, Mingyu goes to the other guy telling him something before returning to the register with your order, "One iced vanilla latte and bagel with cream cheese, here you go. Anything else?" he asks again

"I think this is all for now, so how much?"

"On the house" Mingyu says with a smile, makes you wonder if he does this on a regular basis but you shake the thought away.

"What? No, come on I'll feel bad. Tell me how much" you tell Mingyu but he just shakes his head at you

"Free coffee for the pretty lady"

"Do you tell all your lady customers that?" you ask him, the words already out before you can stop yourself. You can feel your cheeks heat up but Mingyu just chuckles, again he shakes his head

"Just you, tell me next time how's our coffee and baked goods are then we'll call it even" he tells you, pointing at the suggestion box

"Are you sure? My workmates recommended this place and they said the coffee is good but I never really went with them" you tell him,

"You work close by?"

"A few blocks from here, I sometimes pass by here but it's always so busy. I guess I got lucky today"

All this time you were this close to where he was and he never knew. Mingyu mentally agrees with you, indeed it is a lucky day because for the first time since he met you you finally said more than one sentence to him.

17 year old Mingyu would be pouting and kicking his feet out of jealousy, he would never believe this day would come but here you are.

"Thank you for the coffee and food, uh see you around"

"You too, Y/N. It's nice to see you again" he smile again, you shoot him a small smile before going your way.

He watches you go out the door, the scene of you walking away hitting him like a Deja vu. A scene from 10 years go playing in head. Just as you were about to exit the door, to turn around to look at him behind the counter then shoot him another smile then you were gone.

This time though Mingyu wasn't left with a heart to mend but something to look forward to. Maybe just maybe this time it'll be his chance.

"You're down bad" Hoshi, his co-owner and other barista, says from beside him

"Huh?"

"Really?? Coffee for the pretty lady? so original" he laughs

"What? I never used that on anyone" Mingyu mumbles, "I know, that's why I said you're down bad. Who is she by the way?"

"Someone very special, call me when she comes back" he pats Hoshi on the shoulder before going to the back to resume his re-stocking duties.

Mingyu didn't want to expect (but he was), he would be lying if he didn't tell Hoshi he'd open tomorrow and man the register just in case you come in early again. He would be lying if he says he looked up every time the bell dings signaling another customer came in only it wasn't you.

It took you a few days before you visited again, and this time luck wasn't on Mingyu's side because he was not on duty.

"Hey, you're Mingyu's friend" Hoshi remembers you from the other day, greeting you with a big smile making his eyes almost disappear. He seems like a warm person, very friendly.

"Yeah, you can say that" you shyly answer him "Oh right sorry, what can I get you?"

"I'll get another iced vanilla latte. The last one you made was really good" you tell him

"Thanks, make sure to drop that inside our box" he jokes "Anything else?"

"Can you recommend any pastry for me to try? They all look so good"

"Honestly, not to be biased, everything's good here but that chocolate cake is extra special. Mingyu makes it himself everyday, want a slice?"

"Sure, sounds great"

Hoshi, you learn his name, goes and make your order like before then returns to the counter "Okay here you go, and the man says it's on the house"

"Huh?" you ask confused "Mingyu said it's on the house if ever you come back"

"Oh I can not not pay, he already said that the last time" you said, already getting your card out

"No really, he insists. And between us, I'd be in bigger trouble if I let you pay. If you want to scold him, feel free to do so and drop it in the box"

You chuckle, finally taking your drink and food "Thanks again, let me write something" you seat on a vacant chair to get a paper from inside your bag, writing a quick note before going back to the counter to drop it in the box. You say goodbye to Hoshi before going.

You feel your phone ring in your pocket, Dokyeom's name flashing on the screen "Barbeque later"

"Are you asking or are you telling me?"

"I'll come by after work" then he hangs up.

A few hours later, your bestfriend shows up with a few grocery bags and a loud mouth. You two catch up on what you missed on the few days you didn't get to talk, he likes staying up to date with your life even though nothing really ever happens. He's like the brother you never expected but you're now stuck with.

"Do you have any sweets here, chocolate or something" you hear him scrummaging through your kitchen

"I have a cake slice in the fridge"

Dokyeom finds it then walks back to the dining table, setting it in the middle to share between the two of you

"Oh gosh this is so good, where did you buy this?"

"At Mingyu's cafe, did you know he had one?" you ask back, Dokyeom's head springs up to look at you

"You went there? Mingyu did mention he had a cafe. So you two talked?"

"Yea he was there the first time I went, it was really nice the coffee is good. The other barista said Mingyu baked this" you tell him, taking another bite

"You know, you never told me why you rejected him"

Dokyeom suddenly mentioning that made you cough out loud, "You said you liked him right? Then all of a sudden you were telling me you rejected him"

"Are we really talking about this? It's been 10 years"

"Yea"

"Like I said, I didn't have the time and I got overwhelmed. Everyone knew who Mingyu was, I didn't want that kind of attention on me too. I guess 17 year old me got scared"

Dokyeom listens to you, watching you stab the piece of cake before taking a bite "For what it's worth, he really liked you back then. He even asked me what your favorites were, I said you liked cakes more than ice cream"

Back at the cafe, Mingyu comes in after Hoshi closes so he can start on baking tomorrow's batch of cake. He's in the kitchen getting the ingredients ready while Hoshi cleans the display case and front of the house.

He was humming to himself when he hears the kitchen door swing open, "Oh by the way Y/N dropped by today"

Mingyu forgets the number he was on, now he has to measure the flour all over again. He turns to look at his friend with an annoyed expression, Hoshi holds his hands in the air

"Hey don't blame me, not my fault she went here on your only day off. But I did say it's on the house courtesy of you, so you're welcome"

"Atleast you did something right" Mingyu says

"And she got the chocolate cake, she also dropped something in the box. Go check it when you're done, I'm going now" he waves goodbye before going to the office to do a few more things before leaving Mingyu alone at the shop.

He tries to focus first on what he's doing, going back to measuring the ingredients and putting it in the oven before going to the counter to get the box.

How will find your note here when there's about 30 others in here, he's not so sure. He reads through a few of them when finally he finds one

Coffee is great, maybe even better with company. On me next time I come back, thanks Gyu :)

He knows it's from you because of the nickname, a lot of people from highschool used to call him that. It may be common but it sounded extra special when you're the one calling him that. He takes the note and put it in his pocket before putting the others back.

Tonight's cake about to be extra good.

When Mingyu comes in the shop the next day he was expecting you to come, he wasn't going to lie about it this time.

It might seem silly but he never really got over his crush on you. There's something about you that he admired so much, even though people said you're the 'ice queen' with your stoic expression and one line answers he thinks you're just always straight to the point.

He never harbored hard feelings even after you rejected him, he understood your reasons. He knew you were focused on your studies but he just wanted to shoot his shot.

That day when he asked you, he already saw you in the gym before the game. He thought you were going to watch only for you to disappear a few minutes before they started, he chased after you with high hopes only to be handed his heart back in a few pieces. But even then he still liked you, he continued on admiring you from afar. Cheering you on your academic victories and cheering for you on your graduation day when you gave out your valedictorian speech.

He liked watching you achieve your goals, you always had that laser focus and determination. The entire class knew you deserved it.

Now a decade later, you're still the same in some ways. The night during the reunion party, he didn't expect to see you there. You didn't age a day, you still look so beautiful. You now carry this confident but reserved aura around you, he admits he was a bit intimidated to approach you so he thanks Dokyeom for being there.

The day passed by and still no sign of you, when he turns the open sign over to close he lets out the biggest sigh. Looking at the last slice of cake on the stand, ironically very similar to him. Waiting for you to come by.

He's busy mopping the floors to notice he didn't lock the front door, you just got out of work and decided to check if the cafe was still open. The sign said closed but you spot Mingyu inside so you try to knock on the glass door but he couldn't hear you so you let yourself in.

You walk closer to where he was before tapping him on the back making the tall man jump up in the air with mop in hand.

Mingyu turns around, holding his hand to his chest as he looks at you blinking back at him "Fuck you scared the shit out of me, sorry" he mumbles the apology after letting a few curses out

"Sorry, I didn't mean too. I knocked but you couldn't hear. Uhm is it a bad time?"

"No, I mean no it's good. I was just cleaning up. Do you want anything?" he asks you, putting the mop in the bucket before walking towards the counter with you following. He stands by the cashier while you stand on the other side

You spot the last piece of cake like it's calling your name, Mingyu following your gaze. Smiling to himself while he waits for your order.

"I'll get the last piece of chocolate cake, please. Hoshi recommended it yesterday and it was really food. Glad I got the last one" you smile

Little did you know he made that recipe with you in mind. He knew you liked chocolate cakes. "Chocolate cake coming up, anything else? Our cookies are good too, let me get some for you"

"As long as you let me pay for it"

"Not a chance, miss" Mingyu smirks, putting the remaining cookies in a box along with the cake before walking back to face you

"Not this again, you already got it for me the last few times I was here. How will you run a business if you keep on giving it out for free"

"I don't always do it" Mingyu shrugs

"Just let me pay please" you say giving him your card but he just pushes it back

"No"

"Mingyu"

He smiles, looking over at you. For a second you were taken back by his stare. The only way you can describe it was sweet, he looked so sweet like the cake he baked. He looked so soft and gentle like he wouldn't break a heart.

"Come back next time, I'll let you pay"

"You said that the last time"

"Then keep coming back, maybe one day I'll let you" he confidently tells you, the underlying message of wanting to see you again lies in the air. He holds his breath waiting for your next words,

"If you don't let me pay the next time, I won't come back" you threaten him cutely, finally taking the bag from him. Mingyu smiles walking to the other side to walk you out.

Before you reach the door you stop, "Actually, there's something I need to tell you" you turn to look up at him

"Go ahead, I'm listening"

You take a few seconds, again surprised with how he's staring right at you. Like he's seeing all of you.

"I would like to apologize for what happened before, you know the whole rejection thing. I know it's a bit overdue, actually it's very overdue but I've always wanted to say sorry. Someone asked me if I was in a room full of all the people I liked, who would I run to I said you. That's because I wanted to say sorry... so yea. I'm sorry" you mumble, now you're looking at his chest. Too shy to look at him

"You like me?" Mingyu mumbles

This make you look at him again, "That's all you heard?"

"I mean I appreciate the thought, apology accepted. Now back to my question.. I heard that right, right?"

"You're not wrong"

You and your one liner answers.

"So how many are there in the room" he asks, now he's teasing you. You can't help but scowl at him, rolling your eyes.

"It's a very short list and you're missing my point"

"No I get it, and no need to apologize. I respect your decision back then and I still do now. No need to say sorry over that, no hard feelings" he smiles at you.

Mingyu wanted to reach out and hold your hand but he stops himself. He didn't want to mess this again with you, if this is finally his second chance then he's not going to do anything to mess it up.

"I really am, it's been 10 years but I just wanted to tell you that. So yea.. that's uh that's all"

"Can I ask something?"

"What?" you ask back "Who else would be in the room with me, do I know the others"

"Oh my gosh! It's a very short list"

He laughs at your answer, reaching up to tuck the loose hair than fell on your face behind your ear.

"I believe you, tell me about it next time you get coffee"

"Seriously making me rethink about coming back here" you pout, this made Mingyu's heart pound like crazy. A hundred shots of espresso got nothing on you. Only you can make him feel this way, so alive.

"I'll bake you a cake" he bargains

"Chocolate?"

"All yours, on the house"

[bad268]

hii! idk if i can request this but can you write for pepe marti about the crash in baku? like the crash happened and reader try to comfort him or something like that??

My Methods (Pepe Marti X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Took me a minute, but I got it!)

Warnings: none technically

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 877

Summary: The reader comforts Pepe after the crash in Baku.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

The last place you expected to be after this race was in a hospital waiting room. You knew this was just a precaution, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be there any more than you needed to be. You weren’t allowed to go back with Pepe, so you sat scrolling through TikTok in the waiting room. 

You loosely followed the rest of the race, but after Pepe’s accident, you went to grab yours and Pepe’s things from the driver’s room, knowing that he would need to go to medical. Little did you know, they would suggest he go straight to the hospital until his engineer told you separately. By the time you got there with the rental car, Pepe was already in the room getting checked out, so you just had to wait. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for him to be released on concussion protocol. 

He slowly walked with his head down through the waiting room as the nurse guided him to you. Once he was within an arm’s length, you reached out and grabbed his hands. You pulled him closer to you and wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing him in. You realized he still had his race suit on, so you tried your best to grab your backpack without pulling too far away from him. 

“I've got a hoodie and jeans for you, so you can get comfy,” You whispered, putting the backpack in his hands. You walked with him to the bathroom before gently pulling away and gesturing for him to head inside. “I’ll be out here, waiting for you, and we can go home.” He seemed to hesitate, looking between you and the door a few times. Then, he just walked back over to you and rested his head against your shoulder.

“No,” He whispered back as you moved your hands to card through his hair carefully and tried to see if there was a nurse or anyone nearby that could help. Unfortunately, or fortunately in your case, no one was around, so you pulled him into the bathroom after checking to make sure it was empty as well. When the coast was clear, you pulled him into one of the stalls and locked it behind him. He barely opened his eyes as he slurred, “What’re you doing?”

“Getting you out of this suit,” You said, moving to undo his suit. You pushed it off his shoulders and helped him get his arms out of the sleeves, taking care not to make him move too much. “It’ll suck getting it off, but you’ll feel better not being in your suit. Can you lean down a bit or sit down?” He didn’t fight as he bent his knees to lean a bit, so you could lift his fireproofs over his head without straining or gostling his head. You set the fireproof top on top of the bag before grabbing his hoodie and helping him put it over his head. “That wasn’t too bad?”

“No,” He whispered back again, closing his eyes and swaying lightly on his feet. You wrapped your arm around his waist quickly to help him regain his balance. “I’m good, I think.”

“We can take a minute,” You comforted, keeping your arms around him. “You were just in a crazy crash. We can take all the time you need right now. I’m in no rush. The team said we could head back to the hotel after this, and they’re helping extend the stay at the hotel for a few nights since you shouldn’t fly with a concussion. “

“Can we just,” he stopped for a second, trying to collect his thoughts, “wait…? Like, slow down?”

“Yeah,” You agreed, running a hand up and down his back as he planted his head on your shoulder again. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Can you just talk for a while? Everything’s spinning, and I just wanna hear your voice,” He requested as he hid his face between your neck and shoulder.

“Of course, baby,” You cooed, leaving a kiss on his cheek before sighing, trying to think of something to talk about. “I don’t know if you wanna hear about the race, but I’m glad you’re okay. That was super scary to watch, and I bet it was scary to experience. There was nothing you could have done to avoid it, and I’m just glad that you are not seriously injured. The good news is it could have been worse. The bad news is you have to deal with a concussion and a few bruises for a while. You’ll come back stronger in Qatar. I just know it. I’ll also get to spend every day until then spoiling you and making sure you’re ready to get back in the car.”

“Will you let me eat candy?” Pepe perked up slightly, peaking his eyes open to gaze at you.

“If you want candy, I’ll sneak it in for you,” You chuckled lightly. “Anything you want. You’re currently injured, so I’m here to get you back to health. If that means getting you candy, we get you candy. Mental health is physical health, and your team can take it up with me if they have a problem with my methods.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[charmingpplincardigans]

Hello! The last real post I made here was *checks notes* mid-February. And good news! My brain has absolutely not gotten better! I'm still having trouble reaching out to people and connecting with folks. Only now my back has also joined the party and I end most days in excruciating pain for the crime of sitting at a computer desk or running an errand! Fun times!

I'm not really here to complain though. I miss...pretty much everyone, but you guys included. Think I might test out trying to be back on here more instead of just playing phone games for hours on end while the mac wheel in my brain spins. So in the spirit of getting back into it, here are some updates:

Work continues to not pay me enough to live, which is a shame because I've started a few research initiatives I would love to see through and my boss remains the best. Still looking for a new job and getting very close to the October date when I told the grand boss I'd take any job that paid me enough.

Couldn't afford to go to Con this year, so I went to see my friend and her babies instead. They're walking, which they weren't doing when I last saw them in May and I'm positive that by the next time I get down there they'll be speaking in full sentences.

Went to a cool multi-media live Cowboy Bebop concert for my birthday and it was So Cool. The band rocked.

They Maythem moved in with us. They and I are watching through Star Trek: TOS because I'd never seen it. The two of us and Kait are watching through the X-Files, another thing I'd never seen.

I've taken on the job of cooking every night now since neither Kait nor Liz has a great time doing it and I love it, so long as my back doesn't seize up. I find cooking and baking and doing the grocery run to be meditative and calming, so it's nice to be given the freedom to just find new things to make and go for it.

Unfortunately in the other direction I have made no art or done any writing since the pain became an issue, but I continue to make plans to create.

Anyway, the biggest and most important news deserves its own post, so I'll do that next. I just wanted to sat hi, I hope you're all doing okay. I'm sending love even when I'm not here, but maybe I'll be around a little more to remind you. We'll see how life goes, which is all we can do, I think.

[my-little-random-world]

Isabel: Doña Marta, Miss Fina Valero. Marta: Tell her to come in. Isabel: Right away. Fina: Well, well, well, Marta! The private sale was a total success! You should have seen Carmen; she was walking right up to the clients as they passed through the door. Marta: I know, Astrid Madariaga just called me, all excited, to tell me about it. Fina: They cleared everything out, huh? Marta: What great news! Fina: And why didn’t you come by? I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. Marta: Because I had to take over my new position. Fina: What new position? Marta: You’re looking at the new director of Perfumerías de la Reina. Fina: What?! Are you serious? Marta: Yes! Fina: What?! Marta: My father removed Jesús and offered it to me. It all happened so fast, which is why I couldn’t tell you before.

Fina: But, but congratulations, right?! Congratulations! What wonderful news, honestly! Because... because it’s good news, right? Marta: Yes, yes, yes. I’m on cloud nine. And for my father to have trusted me... Fina: But does that mean...? Marta: That we’re smoothing things over. Fina: Oh my God, Marta! You have no idea how much you deserve all of this, truly. You’ve fought so hard to get here. You’ve had to break down walls that your brothers, just by being men, can’t even imagine. Marta: I won’t deny that. Fina: And... and what about Barcelona? Is the move still on? Because I doubt your brother will take long to expose those photographs if you don’t step down from the position. Marta: That’s not going to happen. Fina: Why? Marta: Because my father destroyed the negatives. Fina: Are we out of danger? Marta: The nightmare is over. Jesús can’t hurt us.

—Next scene—

Marta: We no longer have to run, and you can stay by your father’s side until his last breath. That’s what you wanted, right? Fina: Yes, yes, yes. Marta: Does that sound good to you...? Fina: Of course, of course it sounds good to me. I felt so guilty about having to leave him. Marta: Well, now nothing and no one will stop us from continuing our lives here. In fact, now with my new position, I’ll make sure no one bothers us in the colony. What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy? Fina: Yes, of course. Of course I’m happy. I’m really happy... But in Barcelona, we were going to live together in the same house and... that’s it, it’s fine! I was excited about it, but it’s fine. Marta: Fina... Fina: No, don’t “Fina” me, Marta. You just said it yourself. Here, we’ll each go back to our own lives, each in our own place. Marta: We’ll find a way. Just last night you were sleeping at my place. Fina: Your place, but in the downstairs rooms with my father, because I thought those were the last days I was going to spend with him. Marta: We’ll figure it out, hm? The important thing now is that you and I are safe. Fina: We’ve really lifted a heavy weight off our shoulders, haven’t we? Marta: I would’ve never forgiven myself if something had happened to you because of my brother.

[gluion]

between steel and velvet ➵ park gunwook

knight!park gunwook x ruler!reader

although you and gunwook knew your respective duties to rule and protect the adrestian empire, the reality is that you two are only kids forced into such responsibilities.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to lovers, royalty au, hurt/comfort, angst, gender neutral reader, theo of p1h & seungcheol of svt mention, use of names from fe3h because im unoriginal to be thinking of new names

word count ➵ 1.7k words

playlist ➵ the lakes by taylor swift // die with a smile by lady gaga & bruno mars

a/n ➵ this drabble is connected to my upcoming fic "prayers for a garden" :]] this can be read alone for the time being but it would be good if you check it out once it releases! for @shegotthewoobies who survived the gluion drought. thank you real yearner for supporting me. if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog & leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

gunwook is all too familiar with the weight of steel; rattling with every step and causing his shoulders to ache. the coolness of a silver hilt doesn’t faze him. his balance rarely falters with every jab and his arms are accustomed to every swing. still, he finds himself muttering complaints when he retreats to the quarters after a long day of training.

maybe it helps that he grew up surrounded by knights. with his father leading them, gunwook always found his home filled with men in armor who swing their tankards as they sing out sorrows of what it means to be one. on most nights, they’d tell gunwook to find another job (like he had a choice). they’d joke to him about running away from the life of a knight, but all he would do is smile as he shook his head.

because if gunwook had to be honest, he always found himself gravitating towards steel and chain—the only thing he hates is the idea of fitting into his father’s shoes; a well-respected commander who has known of sacrifice from the start, even going as far as having his own portrait on a wall filled with a lineage of rulers. after all, every king and commander is marked into the adrestian empire’s history—a pair from every tenure.

the reality is that gunwook lacks the skills of what it takes to be a commander. he has yet to learn what it means to lead an army, let alone know how to strategize, but his father had expectations that gunwook had to fulfill before he retires (or much worse, dies on the battlefield). 

gunwook can bear the weight of steel on his shoulders—not the title of a commander.

but his world shifted when he learned of who would be his partner—the one who he would be going down in history with—and he found himself constantly faced with the question his father would throw at him: does he have what it takes to serve you?

perhaps gunwook has time to level his expectations on what it means to take over his father’s role. because when he comes across you, he realizes that you two are in the same boat.

the only difference is that he seemed to have more time; more days to train and more hours to study battle plans.

your life, however, turned upside down in one day.

gunwook was going to call it a day. something about today’s training drained him until his legs were cramping. whenever he had to move his arms, he muttered profanities over the soreness. he already denied theo’s invitation for a night out at the saloon, to which he received an earful of complaints for. it didn’t help that seungcheol was making use of his superiority over him, going as far as ridiculing him for his lack of endurance.

but gunwook is all too familiar with his comrades; he wasn’t going to fall for the same tricks.

regardless of the objections, gunwook managed to escape the barracks. he didn’t even think to strip off his heavy armor. but the breeze of the night hit his cheeks—that was enough to give him the last ounce of energy for him to march back to the quarters.

he takes the same path from the barracks to his room; through the garden of different-colored hydrangeas, past the entrance of the chapel where he offers reverence, all the way to the hall filled with portraits. every time gunwook passes through this hall, his steps always slow down as he takes in the same paintings.

tonight shouldn’t be different.

as gunwook’s eyes grace through the portraits, paint strokes capturing commanders’ similar stern expressions, he recalls their history: their journey into the royal army, the sweat it took to become commander, and the sacrifices they made as they led the knights.

and similar to other nights, he makes the same comment: despite the bloodshed, they stood tall—will gunwook be able to say the same for himself?

yet, tonight presents its first difference.

from a distance, gunwook spots someone sitting on a velvet bench. his eyes squint as he continues to walk through the hall, only to make out that it’s you

it’s not unusual to spot you outside of your chambers but you were always accompanied, either by gunwook or a maid. yet, your lonely figure has their eyes peeled to a portrait.

his steps hasten—his majesty cannot be left unattended. no one would allow it—until he hears your sniffles. gunwook watches you wipe away your tears, only for more to stream down your cheeks, and he understands why you’re alone tonight.

you were never the type to cry in front of others. gunwook first learned that when you were scolded by the king. and while he can’t recall for what reason, he remembers the tremble in your voice as you asked him to wait outside your door for a few minutes. you came out of the room with a red, runny rose.

and it’s during these moments where gunwook curses the rattling of his armor because the next steps he takes draws your attention. you glance at him before blinking back the tears. “gunwook, i didn’t know you were here,” you say as you clear your throat in between words.

“your majesty, i didn’t mean to intrude. i was only on my way back to my quarters.”

you wave your hand in reassurance. “it’s okay.” another cough. “did your training finish just now?” you ask without sparing him a glance.

“yes, your majesty.”

with one nod, you say, “okay. i don’t want to keep you from resting. i’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

but gunwook doesn’t care for the lack of sleep he got today or the countless hours he spent in the barracks. “your majesty, there is no trouble with me staying.” you look at him, and he takes in your bloodshot eyes and red nose. “i’ll accompany you until the very end.”

all it takes is one smile from you before he stations himself beside you. as he looks straight ahead, he realizes what you’ve been looking at this whole time: a portrait of the king. your father.

“why don’t you sit down beside me?”

“your majesty, i don’t think it would be proper for me to do so. i’m only allowed to—”

“gunwook.” as your tone shifts from curiosity into agony, he peers over towards you. your eyes are glossy once more. “would you sit down beside me? just this once?”

and gunwook realizes that you didn’t need your commander right now—so, he follows.

he looks at the same painting you’re staring at, respecting and offering your last ounces of privacy. regardless of your request for him to stay by your side, he knows to not look should you shed any more tears.

but then you ask, “do you think you’re ready to be commander?”

gunwook thinks this is a test. if he lies, he might find himself poorly delivering his duties—but to be honest would mean to be removed from his job. away from you.

so, he settles for an answer that held a bit of both. “i don’t know.”

a soft hum leaves you, then silence follows.

gunwook thinks he might’ve failed to give the answer you were looking for. he shouldn’t have kept his guard down. he’s meant to serve you, after all—

“you have time.” his heart beats twice. “time to train. time to learn.” he exhales. “time to figure out if you want to be commander or not.”

gunwook can’t find the right words to say, so he opts for no response.

“i wish i had the same amount of time as you.”

your voice crack causes gunwook to glance at you, only to see you hiding your face behind your hands, and he looks away as he scolds himself for not respecting your privacy. 

he remains frozen in his seat. he didn’t know what to act as: your right-hand man or your counselor. at this moment, the boundaries are blurred.

gunwook doesn’t know how to serve you—until your hand reaches out for his.

he looks down to your linked hands that rest on his thigh; his callous-covered fingers in between yours. you grip onto his hand like it’s the first and last thing you can reach for in this hall, like how you were taught to hold a scepter, and gunwook figures out what you need him to be: your comfort.

as he laces his fingers with yours, your sobs turn into wails.

“gunwook, i can’t be the ruler. i can’t.” he looks at you whose eyes remain stuck to the painting. “i’m not fit for it, and i can’t be the ruler the empire wants. i can’t be what the people need.”

for a second, gunwook thinks he should interject. out of all the commoners and royalty within this castle, he’s certain about you. after all the time you’ve spent together, sharing to him in secrecy about your own plans for reformations, he knows where your heart lies—and that’s enough to prove your entitlement to the throne.

but it’s one sentence that changes his way of thinking, and he mourns with you.

“i’m only but a child.”

because like you, gunwook thinks the same of himself. maybe his hesitation doesn’t only come from his lack of skills and experience.

maybe it stems from the fact that he is still a kid, too.

and like every kid who cries, they long for a hug—and he does that for you.

as he wraps his arms around you, your face finds its spot by the crevice of his collar. the steel armor against your cheek is cold, and you try to chase his warmth by nuzzling into his neck, but his suit prevents you from doing so.

the last thing gunwook wants is to make you feel any lonelier, so he holds you close. his hand rubs your back in circles as you continue to sob, hoping that its warmth is enough to suffice. without thinking, his free hand reaches for the back of your head.

he freezes. he should be more careful with you. it’s not right for a knight to hold you—

you nuzzle your face closer to his neck.

gunwook realizes that this is what you need.

even if it meant going against the king. going against the commander. going against the world.

he’ll do anything if it means to remain by your side.

(gunwook would never expect the same thing from you.)

(but you would give up the world for him.)

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @zumblrnet

zb1 permanent tag list: @deinsleeps

[reverieblondie]

Loved your sub!rolan hcs! Perhaps, if it’s not too much trouble, the same with Zevlor but with make reader? (Gn is fine, too.) Have a good day!

A/N: You ask for Sub!Zevlor I will do my best to provide. Sorry this took so long!

Sub!Zevlor HCs

Zevlor, no matter what, it is all about your pleasure. Zevlor feels good if you feel good. A service sub, if I had to give it a name. Zevlor is happy if his partner is happy…

You want a back rub? Zevlor's hands are slicked with oil, rubbing all the knots out of your body, as soft or as hard as you request. His skin is warm to the touch, and the feeling of his long nails slightly dragging over your skin never fails to make your toes curl. 

Do you need to dry the laundry? Zevlor is already carrying the basket of wet laundry out to the line for you; he's following your exact words as you direct him. When you tell him what to do and how to do it, you will see Zevlor looking into your eyes with the smallest of smiles and his cheeks just a bit redder. 

Feeling needy? All you need to do is go to Zevlor, sit on his lap, or run your hands down his broad chest. "Help me..' is all you need to whisper, and Zevlor is on it. He's quick to lift you to the bedroom, practically kicking the door down so he can lay you on the bed. Zevlor will whisper praise in your ear that switches from common to infernal as he strips you bare. Then, finally, when your sex is exposed to him, all you need to do is tell him… Gods how he lives for you to tell him what you want… let him run his tongue over your sex, toy lick, and suck against you as his fingers probe at your tight entrance. 

It isn't about Zevlors pleasure… that comes when you cum into his expecting mouth.

After a long day of work, Zevlor's body is coated in a sheen of sweat and aches with every move. You see how his face twists in pain as he tries to settle; you want to take care of him, asking him if he needs anything, wants anything, but all he says is you, and suddenly you are wrapped in his arms. As you settle in with Zevlor, leaning into his chest, you feel his hands slowly rubbing your body and relaxing as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. "Zev, you don't have to take care of me. You have had a long day, so you can relax." Zevlor hums into you as he works the knots out of your back, what you should be doing for him. "Please… let me take care of you… having you feel good makes me feel good." Well, with soft words like that, who are you to deny a man his pleasures?

Zevlors pleasure, of course, leads to you lying back and splayed out as Zevlor loses himself as he runs his tongue against your sex. He's been down there for what feels like hours, his mouth pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. Zevlor's voice praises and begs you for more; let him please you more. Of course, you let him, the pleasure you're giving him is undeniable and mouth-watering. Through you worry about Zevlor, is he enjoying this as much as you… But when you finally feel his groan against you… there is no doubt he is enjoying himself immensely…Then the problem becomes trying to get the ex-hell rider off. You can whine and beg until you shake from the sweet overstimulation. That feeling starts to give way to an intense pressure that aches in your lower stomach… you're warning him, begging him… but he's just too lost in you… then, it washes over you in a sighing relief… and poor Zev's face is ruined with your mess, and with hazy eyes and a soft smile, he sucks and licks it up. 

Zevlor has an oral fixation to the max, and when your cumming or… erm, engaging in water sports… Zevlor is at his happiest. It isn't a degrading thing, he just really fucking loves the taste of you. 

Once everything is out in the open and you two have talked and explored each other's kinks more, it is revealed that not only does he want to please you, but he also wants you to direct him… to command him.

You two will start slowly if you are not used to giving directions. Like asking him to help rub your shoulders, have him help strip you bare; if you are nervous about being this direct, don't worry; Zevlor is right there. Just put your hands in his as he whispers how he loves you, and if you want to stop, you can anytime you want. He's literally perfect.

After some time and practice, your confidence is built enough to ask him more direct things… like moaning your name, having him tell you what he wants to do for you, asking for it faster or slower, and telling him where you want him to cum. If you ask him to bite you or if you can bite him, he might be lost for words... 

Zevlor stands in front of you tall, his hands behind his back, and his posture is perfect. "Stip," you command as you sit in front of him. Zevlor slowly sheds off his shirt, then drops his trousers with a smile. Once bare to you, revealing his muscular body with the most beautiful scars that, on many nights, you have taken the time to sit and map out to completely make him yours. You stand and circle him, tracing your fingers over him; Zevlor tries hard not to move as you take your time teasing him, though he can't control how his cock swells to attention, hard and glistening at the tip, eager to feel more of whatever you are willing to give. Finally, you grab his neck and lean into his burning ears. "Turn around for me, then on your elbows…" 

Zevlor is so obedient to you, never trembling under your words, just doing. Tender touches along his spine will make his breath catch; its a touch he has long dreamed of, and now you, his love, his person who will take him tenderly in your hands. It's not just sex now, not with you in this moment. It's a complete surrender to another and to be about ro share in physical and emotional intimacy. 

Let him wrap his tail around you as you kiss the nape of his neck down his back, as you gently stretch his tight entrance with probing fingers, then later…something else… His muscles constricting taut at the stretching intuition… then if you curl your fingers, you've never heard anyone moan so pretty.

When you thrust into Zevlor, he will moan and growl, and if his needy, pleasing side starts to get the better of him, he will start meeting your thrusting with his hips slamming back into you just so you know how much he needs this with you. 

You won't need to praise Zevlor; in fact, that might overwhelm him with a blazing flush. Just kiss him tenderly and whisper how much you love him; bonus points if you growl it in infernal. He will surely make a mess, then. 

Though this isn't Zevlors favorite position…

Zevlors favorite position is you riding him (obviously). Zevlor loves to feel your weight pressing down on him as he watches your face contort into a concentrated furrow as you bounce yourself on his cock. Your hands gripping his hair like rains and he's speechless, he feels nothing but total reverence as his partner uses him for their pleasure, to be giving him pleasure as they grip on him tighter and tighter with every thrust. You may be receiving, but Zevlor is in the plan of your hand in complete bliss…

You lean into his ear, your breath hot and heavy, "Knot me, commander… I know you want to…" His knees feel weak, and the base starts to swell….he will never deny you…

[mustainegf]

→ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find some understanding as my mind spiraled out of control. The only noises in the room were the soft hum of the fan and the steady breaths of James lying beside me. Tomorrow, he'd be off on tour again, and it weighed more and was heavier to handle than I had thought it would be. To me, he'd just got back, and it felt like I was going to lose him all over again.

I shifted, for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to find such a position that my body would agree with. But no matter how I adjusted, I couldn't settle. Not only could I not stop thinking about him leaving... but there was something else I couldn't get our of my head... something that also had to do with James.

James stirred beside me, his voice deep. "You've been tossing and turning," he said softly. "What's goin' on, hun?

I froze, I didn't know how to answer. I didn't want to burden him with just how fragile I had been, how badly I needed him. So I did what I always did in those kinds of vulnerable moments. I deflected.

"Just. hormones," I muttered awkwardly, hoping that would suffice.

"Hormones?" he replied, a hint of a smile weaving its way through his voice. "What kind of hormones?

I swallowed hard, my face starting to heat up. I knew I had to answer him, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for that kind of vulnerability. "It's just… the uh, second trimester," I started, my voice a whisper. "It… it makes me feel… um, you know, horny."

I was instantly regretful that I had said anything. Mortified, really. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Why did I say that? Why didn't I just blow it off?

After a moment, James scooted beside me, twisting his body so that he faced me. "You've been feeling like that and didn't say anything?

I bit my lip, mortified still. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," I admitted, keeping my eyes fixed on the popcorn ceiling. "I mean, with your injuries and everything that's been going on with us, it didn't seem right to bring it up…"

Again, the silence stretched, and my nerves were starting to get the better of me. Then James's hand reached out and found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things like that," he said softly. "I'm here. I want to help you... especially if that's how you've been feeling."

It was as if he had removed a boulder from my chest. I turned my head slightly to his direction. His face was still not distinct in the shitty dim light of the room.

"You want to help?" I asked, the words barely audible.

James nodded, his fingers tracing light patterns down my wrist. "I do," he said firmly, filling his voice with warmth and affection. "Look... I love you... and I'm leaving tomorrow... I just- I want to have a chance to love this body of yours before I have to leave..."

I hesitated, something blooming inside me. Of course, I had missed him and yearned for the closeness again, yet wasn't quite sure how it would work. "But… your arm—"

"I'll be fine," he softly interrupted, squeezing my hand. "We can find a way, It doesn't have to be perfect. I just want to be with you."

The tenderness of those words completely disarmed me. I searched his eyes for some sign of doubt or hesitation and found a lot of love instead.

"Are you sure?" I whispered innocently.

He leaned in far enough that his lips brushed against mine in a soft, gentle kiss. "Always," he whispered against my lips. "I want to take care of you."

His voice melted away the last of my reservations. I nodded, my body melting as I accepted his offer.

We began to kiss again, deeper this time. His lips moved slow and sweet over mine, and the fire that was there between us began to build. His good arm wrapped around me, pulling me more into him, his injured one being careful to stay at his side. His hand stroked over my waist down to my belly.

"I don't want to hurt you," I whispered between kisses, my hands running through his long hair.

"You won't," he murmured, his lips meeting mine once more. "I promise."

The connection f our lips deepened as I shifted closer and my hands slid down his chest, feeling his skin beneath my fingertips. He groaned softly against my lips, and the sound reminded me of the many times we'd done this, yet somehow, it was different this time. I'd missed this, missed him.

But the more we shifted, the more I knew common positions were out of the question. His injuries would make it very uncomfortable for him to be on top, and I wouldn't dare do anything to make him hurt even more.

"Here," I said softly, breaking the kiss and moving back just enough to meet his gaze. "I'll ride you," I say gently, nodding.

For a second, James stared at me, in awe and love. "you sure?" he asked gruffly low.

"I want to," I admitted, my palm resting against his chest, feeling the soft hairs. "I want you to be comfortable too..."

He smiled, his hand gliding up to cup my cheek. "You're..." he whispered, his lips finding mine once more. "I love you..."

"I love you too," I said with a whispered voice, shaking with emotion. We started to undress, each movement sensitive and deliber­ate. James watched with wide wonder as I took my shirt off, his eyes feasted on the swollen curve of my belly. His hands were soft and extremely careful against my skin, touching my tummy in wonder, knowing that resting beneath, was his child.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his hands gliding over every surface he could reach. "So beautiful."

I went red, more vulnerable than I'd ever felt, but his words were making me safe. Carefully, I straddled him, my knees at either side of his hips, and in a second James's hand found its place on my belly, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was.

"Look at you," he whispered, looking me up and down. He drank in the details, the slight stretch marks on my belly, the way it swelled so warm. "Carrying our baby... I've never seen anything more.. beautiful in my whole life."

Honestly, they were never would I thought I would ever hear him say, and it was making my heart beat faster, my hairs prickle and my skin heat up. I leaned down, my hot mouth covering his, as I readjusted myself and positioned us together. His breath caught as I lowered myself onto him, and a soft moan escaped my lips.

Oh my God. We'd had sex before, yeah, but this? This was way different... fuck, it was good. Every thrust, every gentle push was bringing us closer and closer. James's hand never strayed from either my belly or hip, he worshipped me with every stroke.

"You're p-perfect," he murmured, his voice choked and heavy. "So perfect, baby."

I could feel the tears now, threatening to spill as the moment became too big to hold in. I loved him so much, loved this man who was the father of my child, loved the way he was looking at me now, knowing I was the most important thing in the world.

"James..." I panted as I bounced on him, feeling every agonizing ridge and vein clench inside me. "I love you... oh God, I love you so much."   His hips surged harder against mine, his good arm pulled me into him and we moved together. "I love you," he huffed, his eyes pressed to mine. "You're everything to me... You and our baby.. y-you're everything."

I writhed above him as both of our hips worked in turn, slapping over and over. I think he could tell the effect this was having on me, with the hormones and all.

I couldn't help but thick of how perfectly we fit together, even with the added weight of my pregnancy. Each gentle roll of my hips me whining. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I gazed into James' eyes. I couldn't help the tears, nor control them I was too emotional, too hormonal, and I loved him with all my heart... and fuck, this felt so good. His touch was worshipful as he caressed my belly and traced the contours. James' look softened, his thumb brushing away a tear from my cheek.

I let out a loud whimper, my body squirming for release. Tears continued to shoot freely down my cheeks, mixing with the sweat that coated my skin. "Please, James… I need to cum," I pleaded, my voice breaking with white hot lust.

"It's okay… It's okay for you to cum," he repeated, his tone a comforting murmur against my cheek.

It was too much, and as I came, it wasn't just the pleasure that but the my emotions. All wrapped into that one moment.

I melted against his chest, my face streaked with tears, my body shaking right to my soul as I turned into a puddle of whimpers. James clutched me tight against him, but very softly, his lips pressed to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.

"Hey, hey," he whispered softly. "It's okay... I've got you. I'm right here."

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, burying my face in his neck. "I don't know why I'm crying."

He leaned in, whispering softly against me, "You don't have to apologize," and stroked my hair softly. "It's just the hormones, right?"

I laughed weakly through my tears, nodding against his skin. "Yeah. probably."

After a few moments, James spoke softly. "Can I finish?" he asked, his tone carefully measured to convey his understanding should I choose otherwise.

I lifted my head slightly, meeting his gaze with a tender smile. I nod, not wanting to leave him uncomfortable. "Yes," I whispered.

As I nestled closer to James, my hand found its way to his throbbing member, wrapping around him with a tender yet firm grip. With every stroke, I poured out my love, my grip passionate.

The feeling of his length pulsing in my hand only fueled my want to please him.

He was singing with praise and moans galore with every stroke of mine. Escaping lips of pleasure, muttered words of gratitude.

My other hand was gently massaging his tense balls, another point of contact, while my mouth went searching for the soft skin of his neck. I nipped and licked at his flesh, planting wet kisses along the line of his collarbone. My actions were mirroring the rhythm in my hand, tugging on his manhood.

As his orgasm very quickly approached, James's words of became a mantra, hurled with every second that passed. "That's it. Just like that.," he husked.

His climax hit him hard, his seed spilling forth in hot sticky bursts across his abdomen. It was a sight to see, watching him lose control, his face contorted in pure bliss. I watched as his seed painted his skin so beautifully.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, holding me close. "I love you so much," he whispered, his voice all soft gentleness. "I'm here. I'll always be here..."

After a while, James shifted beneath me, easing me off him and settling me back onto the bed. "I'll be right back," he whispered against my forehead.

I watched him stumble naked into the bathroom. I couldn't help but admire his naked body, so masculine and raw. I really was in love with him. Soon, he came returning a few moments later with a warm rag, and a clean stomach. James gently laid me back and helped spread my legs as he carefully cleaned me up. Full of love, and this such a quiet intimacy that bound me closer to him.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside and got back into bed beside me. He wrapped himself around me, his arm splayed protectively over my belly as he kissed the top of my head.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"For what?" he returned softly.

"For loving me."

He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head again. "I'll love you always, whatever happens."   I buried myself in him as he spoke, my eyes closing, his warmth heating my own. I was exhausted, but wrapped up in James' arms, I was safe. And so was our baby.

[222col]

good luck, babe

★ tashi duncan x reader ★ inspired by 'good luck, babe' by chappell roan ★ 1.8k ★ 18+ | cw: angst, smut

"tashi, c'mon, let's go." you're pleading with her, pulling her from the man she's wrapped around. flirty eyes looking up the man before her, leaning up to kiss him. you sigh, you've seen this sight a hundred times. kissing boys in bars before going home with you. you're halfway out the bar by the time tashi comes running over to you. "sorry, he was so cute." she's hiccuping her way through her words, drunk making out with boys. she's sober almost every time she kisses you. linking her arm through yours as you make your way back to your shared dorm room. sitting her down, taking off her make up and getting her changed. "goodnight, angel." you sigh, placing a kiss to her forehead as you tuck her in. "give me a proper kiss." you do, of course. tasting the tequila shots on her tongue mixed with her cherry flavoured chapstick.

you're not sure when you fell in love with tashi, honestly it could have been the moment you saw her. walking into your dorm room to meet your roommate, seeing her unpacking her bags. her snaggletoothed smile greeting you, you think it must have been then. watching her hang up your posters for you, when you wanted them somewhere you couldn't reach. it could have been the first party you went to, dancing with her like you fully understood how your body moved for the first time, when it was dancing against hers. you know it was definitely the first time you kissed. hiding in the bathroom of your dorm room while your friends were over pregaming, not wanting to talk to anyone but each other. backs against the bathtub as your lips met. you think she initiated it, she thinks you did. neither of you really care. those big brown eyes pulled you in the second you really saw them. you let yourself be dragged into her world, happy to have a piece of her that was yours. she slept in your bed almost every night, caressing the skin of your stomach as she held your back against her chest. you knew she wasn't out, she barely admitted it to herself. she knew she liked you, but that was as far as she could go in accepting her sexuality. stealing kisses and touching her behind closed doors was fine for a while, you'd never rush her. but it was when she started pushing you away that things got hard. she'd kiss boys at every bar you went to, almost always in front of you. she was in denial, forcing herself to ignore how she was falling in love with you. she'd always lie, telling you it's just how she was. but it wasn't, she just couldn't admit that she was in deeper than she thought.

she climbed into your bed in the middle of the night, most likely when the alcohol started to wear off. "i'm sorry, i wish i could kiss you instead of them." she mumbles into your skin. why don't you? you'd wonder. you'd never want her to push herself out of the closet, but you couldn't help longing for more. even if she didn't kiss you, why kiss anyone else? you brush her off, telling her it's okay. you didn't want call it off, but she didn't want call it love, she couldn't. her hand sneaks around your waist, down underneath your underwear. "tashi," you mumble, squirming under her touch. "shush, let me look after you." she whispers into your ear, placing wet kisses on the skin of your neck. her long fingers rubbing circles on your clit, causing quiet moans from you. "just wanna kiss you in front of everyone, wanna show them you're mine." you're so grateful you're facing away from her as she speaks, silent tears dropping down your cheeks as her digits keep circling you. she makes you cum quickly, she knows exactly what you like, how you like to be touched by her. tashi leans over to place a gentle kiss to your cheek as she slides her hand out of your panties. keeping you flush against her chest as you fall asleep in each other's arms.

you carry on like this with tashi for the rest of the school year, rejecting girls who are into you, waiting for the day she'll stop kissing boys in bars. it's only as you're both packing up your dorm room that everything hits you. seeing your things blended in with hers, your shared clothes, pictures of the two of you darted around the room. you're waiting for a woman that'll never be yours. watching her slump down to the floor, her back against her bed after all your things were packed away in individual cars. "i need to talk to you." she sighs, looking up to you stood above her. you sit down on the floor, facing tashi, your heart in your throat. "i- uh, i have a boyfriend." tashi bites her lip, bringing her knees up to her chest as you feel your heart start to shatter. "what?" you ask, fiddling with the socks on your feet. "but i don't wanna stop this, us," she continues, her eyes glassy as she looks to you. "i love you, i don't wanna call us off." you scoff at her words, shaking your head down at the floor. "you're unbelievable." you mumble, picking at your nails, avoiding her gaze. "i have been so patient, all year, praying for the day you'll tell me you love me." you breathe out, finally meeting her eyes. "and when it comes, it's you asking me to stay hidden away while you parade around with a boy?" your words are sharp, harsh. tashi's brows are furrowing, holding back her sadness. "no, tashi. i won't do it." you mutter, a single tear dropping down your cheek. "it's not fair, what you're asking me to do."

she simply nods her head, wrapping her arms around her knees. "i know-" you cut off her words. "then why would you ask me to do that?" you choke out your words, looking around the empty dorm room, that holds all the memories of your relationship with tashi. blue tac marks left behind on the walls were pictures of you both lived, coffee mug stains on your nightstand, that tashi would bring you every morning. the slight indents on the wall behind the bed frames, the kiss mark left on the mirror. "because i don't want to let you go." tashi bites back a sob, tears slipping out from her eyes as she rests her chin on the top of her knees. "i'm sorry tashi, but i can't do that. you deserve more than lying to yourself that you want the life you're making. i won't do that to myself, i deserve more than some sexually explicit kind of love affair." those were the last words you said in that dorm room, looking at her one last time, looking so small as tears fell from her eyes. breathing in sharply before closing the door on the dorm, on the memories, on her.

you'd heard through the grapevine that she got married, a year or two after college. you imagine to the guy she told you about, but you wouldn't know. you moved on with your life, found people who accepted you, accepted who you were, and loved you for it. you moved on from tashi duncan. until you saw her friend request come through, all these years later. you stare at it, the accept or decline, for days. stare at her new name, stalk through what you can see of her profile, mainly pictures of her and her husband. you're slightly tipsy when you accept the request, sat at a bar alone, glass of wine in hand.

tashi donaldson: hey, i know we haven't seen each other in a long time but do you wanna go for a drink soon?

all these years later and the memories still flood your brain. watching her tennis matches, watching her fall asleep in your arms, holding her hand under tables. you agree to meet up next week, she's in your city for one of her husband's tournaments. walking into the bar, tashi already sat waiting for you. she looks good, her hair is shorter. she's fiddling with the rings on her finger as her hands wrap around her drink. walking over, her eyes lighting up as you take off your jacket and sit down in front of her. "hey, i got you a vodka soda." she smiles, it used to be your favourite. "i don't drink them anymore." she chews the inside of her cheek as she flags down the waiter to order you another drink. "it's been a long time, tashi, why am i here?" you ask her, thanking the waiter as your new drink arrives. "i've been thinking about you a lot lately, i just wanted to see you." she admits, your eyes floating between her face and the rock on her finger. you sigh, bringing your glass up to your lips. "i loved you, you know?" you shake your head at her words. "tashi, this isn't fair. you're married, a wife."

"i'm nothing more than his wife. i can't stand it." tashi breathes heavily. you can see the emotional behind her eyes, see everything she's been holding back all this time. "that's what you wanted." you hiss, not letting yourself fall for her games. "you could never even kiss me outside of our dorm room, tashi. you wanted me to be your secret play thing while you played house with your now husband." she winces at your words, she knows it's true. her eyes fixate on the table, glancing at the ring on her finger. "i hate to say it, but, i told you so. i told you this wasn't the life you wanted, it's not who you are, tashi, i understand that." you're whispering the last words, leaning towards her. her eyes lift up, looking into yours. "but you can't just expect me to come running back to you." tashi's eyes flutter closed, breathing in deeply, you can feel her leg bouncing up and down. "i know, it's just-" her brows furrow as she empties her lungs, looking to you. "you're the only woman i've ever loved. the only person i've ever truly loved." you've never seen tashi so vulnerable, never heard her admit her feelings outside the four walls of your old dorm room. "you've spent your whole life trying to ignore how you feel tashi, you'd have to stop the world to stop the feeling." you can see a sob get stuck in her throat as she chokes it down, bringing up her drink to her lips, letting the alcohol burn down. "good luck, tashi. i mean it, good luck, babe."

you half smile at her as you stand, putting your jacket back on. her eyes are pleading with you, asking you to stay, but she can't find the words. taking one last look as you leave the bar, looking through the foggy windows. her head in her hands, the ring on her finger glistening in the low light. biting back a sob as your eyes linger on her, before walking away. hoping that one day, she'll learn to accept herself. good luck, babe.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Cheek

@rosekillermicrofic September 19, word count 790

Previous part First Jegulus part

A round little man waddled into the café and Regulus nodded his head towards him. Barty grinned a toothy grin as he eyed up his prey. This was going to be fun. He nudged Evan and jutted his chin towards Pettigrew. Evan patted him fondly on the cheek and stalked towards the man, who’d just sat down at an empty table. 

“Hello,” Barty heard Evan say in his most velvety voice. It sent a shiver down Barty’s spine. He loved that voice. Pettigrew jumped, not realising Evan had sat down at his table. Barty pulled out the chair next to Evan and sat down, making sure his pointed teeth showed clearly. He’d been called a vampire many times over the years, as his canines were rather sharp. Smiling like that didn’t help the rumours, but Bart couldn’t care less. 

“Oh, er, hi. Erm, I don’t really like sharing a table, if, if you don’t mind,” Pettigrew squeaked nervously as Barty picked up the fork from in front of him and twirled it in his fingers. 

“Well, we don’t like little rats who film our friends,” Barty said in an over-calm way. He pulled his top lip up even more, knowing how insane he’d look to the other man.

The sound of scraping chairs behind him alerted him to the Potters moving in. He didn’t take his eyes off the rat for a second. 

“And we don’t appreciate our son’s being used for your entertainment,” Effie hissed as she and Monty sat down beside Barty. Barty looked at her, impressed. Effie Potter had bite!

“What she said,” Monty said so cheerfully that Barty nearly broke character to stare at him in bewilderment, but he didn't have time for that as Pandora popped up beside Evan. 

“Peter? Peter Pettigrew, is that you?” She gasped. Wait, did Panda know him? “Oh, haven’t you been naughty? I’ve a good mind to tell your mother on you. Using my dear friend Sirius to get views online. That’s not very nice, you know,” She wagged her finger at him. Barty felt nervous himself. When Pandora wagged that finger, usually someone would be filled with regret not long after. 

Another two chairs were pulled over to the table and Regulus and James sat down. 

“The only one who can torture my brother is me,” Regulus sneered, his voice full of venom. "The fact you think you have the right to film him at all is beyond me." 

“Dickhead,” James shot at him. Barty had to try very hard not to snort.  

“James Fleamont Potter, language,” Effie gasped. 

“Sorry, Mum,” James flushed and tried again. “You hurt my friend, prepare to di—” Monty elbowed his son in the ribs, “Have a good telling off,” James huffed as he rubbed his side. 

Finally, Remus and Sirius joined the group around the table.  

"It gives me great pleasure, Mr Pettigrew, to inform you--” Remus said sweetly, too sweetly. Barty looked Remus over again and saw the fire behind his eyes. Oh, Remus had a crazy side. No wonder Regulus liked him.  

“Sling your hook, you're barred!” Sirius shouted at the cowering man, making Barty jump. Pettigrew leapt to his feet and ran for the door.    

The odd assortment of defenders chased after him. Barty felt exhilarated as he charged down the pavement. Regulus had been adamant that they were to scare Pettigrew only and not actually harm him. Sirius didn’t want that. So Barty let him escape. The stubby man could move surprisingly fast. He stopped running once Pettigrew disappeared around the corner and waited for the others to catch up. 

“I got it all on film! I got it all on film!” Effie cried out excitedly. 

“So did I,” Monty grinned wildly. “Oh, wait,” His face fell. “I had it on the wrong camera. It’s just my face.” Barty couldn’t help it. He burst into knee-slapping laughter. James’s parents were hilarious. 

“So who’s watching the café?” James asked, looking around the gathered people.

“Oh shit!” Sirius yelled and raced back to the unmanned café.

“Speaking of videos, wait until I show you what Barty did the other day. I can guarantee it’s the best thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life,” Evan said, baiting them until everyone wanted to see what Barty had done.

“Let’s wait until the café shuts,” Barty added. “I think there might be multiple viewings required. Evan agreed and put his phone away as they all walked back to the café together. Barty took Evan’s hand in his and winked at his boyfriend mischievously. He couldn’t wait to see Regulus’s face when he watched what Barty had done to his mother, but he could wait a few hours more. The anticipation was the best bit. 

Next part