#truth be told this did not need to be made

[bisexualiteaa]

Omg! You should totally do one where he’s sexually frustrated. And the reader (female), teases him until he breaks! And when he does they get down to business BIG time if you know what i mean lol. But even when they do start to fuck the reader doesn’t listen to all his demands, making it more spicy once silco finally gets the reader exactly how he wants her.

On edge

AN: Thank you so much for this request!! I loved the idea so much and literally had so much fun writing this! Apologies that it took a few days, I again just wanted to make sure it was good and to what you asked! ♥️ I hope you enjoy and that I’ve done your ask justice! 🥺🫶

CW: no use of y/n, reader has hair, reader is AFAB, female anatomy, MDNI, cursing, teasing, heavy brät/brät tämer themes, Silco is t0uch deprived, r0ugh seggs, unprotected seggs, bïting, cream 🥧, slight dëgradation, p0rn w/o plot, äftercare, possible spelling/grammar errors

Also I’m not sure why, but as I was writing I was listening to this song and I just feel like it fits SO well! So listen along while you read if you’d like!

His forehead head sat in his hand as you entered his office, elbow leaned against the desk as his other hand held a glass, amber liquid and two ice cubes swirling around inside the ornate rocks glass. Whiskey, he only drank on the rougher days anymore, and judging by the cigar that sat in the ash tray on his desk, smoke emanating from it, told you he was having a day. You on the other hand, were in a different sort of mood, a bubbly, perhaps more mischievous mood. You weren’t quite sure what brought it about, whether it was your confidence just hitting a new high today, or what but you could tell from the sassy sway to your hips as you shut the door carefully behind you. Something you didn’t realize had in fact been noticed by him, he was just doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Rough day?” You asked innocently, sauntering over to his side as you stood beside him. The scent of your perfume filled his nose the moment you moved closer, leaving him to inhale its intoxicating scent. Sometimes he wondered if you mixed a sort of drug into it with the way he craved its familiarity, wishing to smell it on his sheets, his jacket. When he did, it drove him wild, the transfer of it from just a simple hug was enough to leave him clutching the large jacket and taking a whiff on occasion when no one was looking or when he was alone in his office. Each time he did, he could feel his cock twitch with excitement as his mind would then drift to you. Sinful thoughts filling his mind of how good you would look splayed against his sheets beneath him, or how you would look bent over his desk as he ravaged you. Shimmer had nowhere near the effects that you had on him, it was almost impressive as much as it was sad. How long had it been that the simple scent of your perfume could cause him to go mad? Or for your fleeting touches to leave him with such carnal need? He couldn’t remember, but you made him feel young again in that sense.

“Quite” he replied plainly, placing the glass down on the desk, trading it for his cigar that had already been halfway smoked. You watched as he took a long drag of it before leaning back and releasing the smoke in an exhale upwards, ensuring he wouldn’t breathe it into your face. You loved the scent of his cigars, something about the tobacco mixed with smoke and his own personal scent left you enjoying being around him as he smoked more than you probably should have. There was something just so alluring about it. “Every time I turn around it feels as if something has fallen apart and is in need of my attention” he finally explained, leaving you to look upon him sympathetically. The lines of stress etched into his forehead and brow spoke truth of this, the bags beginning to accumulate beneath his eyes only further evidence to his unrest. Your hand came to rest against his thigh, rubbing soothing circles along his skin. Something you’d done in the hopes it would help him calm down a little, but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t have ulterior motives behind it.

You felt his body tense for a moment from the soft touch, looking down at your hand that rested against his mid thigh. It was so close, so close yet so far. He wondered how it would look in your small, dainty hands, how good it would feel. He turned his head and shifted a little to try and erase the thought from his mind, but even as you removed your hand, its heat lingered on the spot like a painful reminder. “Zaun looks to their leader for guidance and aid, but even a leader deserves rest” you said, smoothing your hands along his jacket, flattening any wrinkles that formed from his previously hunched over position. You were bent over as you did, the shirt you were wearing giving him direct sight to your cleavage as your perfume continued to intoxicate him. Did you have any idea the things you were doing to him? Surely you had to, you couldn’t be so oblivious to your effect on him, could you? He was ashamed of the hold you had on him, how weak you made him from just a simple touch. He tried his best to hide it, and hide it well, but as you stood here before him he knew today may very well be the day he reaches his breaking point. “I’m granted no rest when someone walks through my door just about every hour” he replied, making you hum as you stood back up, watching his eyes trail you as you walked back over to the door. He felt himself release a breath he had no idea he’d been holding in as you put a slight distance between you. “Then lock it” you said with a cute little grin, the bolt turning in the door with an audible click before you turned back around, watching him clutch the cigar between his fingers with a fierce grip. His eyes bored into you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, no one has ever looked at you like that, with such fire in their eyes, with such desire. It made your stomach twist in knots. “No one can bother you if they can’t get in” you finished before returning to his side, this time watching as you boldly sat on an empty corner of his desk.

You couldn’t quite read the look on his face as you did, but you had noticed the way his eyes would flit up and down your body when he thought you weren’t looking. He took in the way your pencil skirt seemed to raise past your mid thigh as you sat down, giving him a flash of your panties from beneath it when you would go to cross your legs, leaving him incredibly hard beneath his pants. You were toying with him, you had to be. There was no way you were doing this all unknowing of the effects you had on him. Pathetically, he was falling for it, and he hated that he was. He caught the glimpse of a grin resting on your sweet, plump lips as your downcast gaze trailed him up and down, waiting for a response. You were teasing him on purpose. “You play with fire” he stated, making you giggle. “I know, I can’t help myself. I like the possibilities of being burnt” you answered confidently, your foot dragging up and down his calf affectionately. Janna almighty you’ll be the death of him, but if that were to be the case, what a hell of a way to go.

You watched him as he stood before you, hands planting on either side of your thighs as his face hovered close to yours. “You think you’re so clever? Waltzing in here with that short little skirt, teasing me and think I wouldn’t notice?” He asked, making you hum as your grin only stretched wider. “Seemed to be working just fine, was it not?” You asked in reply, feeling as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart to allow him a place to stand between before pulling you to the edge of his desk where your hips met his. “You tell me, what do you think?” he replied, leaving you to gasp softly as you felt him pulse and twitch against your heat. “I think I have you wrapped around my little finger” you boldly claimed, your fingers walking up along his jacket before your arms looped around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him but never fully closing the distance. “You think so?” He asked in response, making you giggle. That same smug grin rested on your lips as electricity thrummed between you, your faces mere centimeters apart, waiting to see if he would cave in. Your gaze flit to his lips with heavy lids, enjoying the mental turmoil you were putting him through as he fought caving in immediately. “You want me so bad? Come get me” you whispered, your breath ghosting across his lips as they hovered so very close to his own. He needed you in ways he couldn’t even begin to try and explain.

So he caved.

You felt his hand come to rest on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you even closer, finally closing the distance between you as his lips captured yours. The kiss was fiery, passionate and messy, a gravely groan leaving him into it. You could feel the rumble in his chest from it, paired with the way his lips danced against your own told you how long he’d been wanting this, how much he’d been needing this. Needing you. You couldn’t help the smile that stretched to your lips into it, thinking of all the ways that you could push his limits. Your hand smoothed down his chest, toying with his tie as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, an effort to push the kiss further into something more intimate. You giggled as you denied him, earning an impatient groan in response as his free hand groped your ass roughly, making you moan. The moment you did, he took his chance, his tongue exploring you as it tangled with your own in a messy clash of teeth, tongue and lips. It had you dizzy.

When he pulled back he looked you over, not caring this time if you laid witness to it or not. He took the moment to take in how your chest heaved with each labored breath, how your cheeks were flushed, lips shining with swapped saliva. “Gonna keep staring at me? Or you gonna do something about that problem of yours?” You asked with a cocky grin, making him chuckle darkly. “Oh it will be fixed, but it won’t be me fixing it” he said, yanking on your hair to pull your head back, earning a pathetic whine from you as it made you look up at him, finding yourself unable to bite back in this position. “You caused it, you fix it” he ordered, making you moan as he rolled his hips against your own, brushing his painfully hard cock against your panty clad cunt, allotting you some much needed friction and stimulation. All you could do was look up at him, excitement and anticipation filling your gaze leaving him to chuckle. “No witty come back to that? I give you the smallest taste of how good I can make you feel and you give up just like that, hmm?” He asked smuggly, making your face grow hot with defeat before he let up on his grip in your hair. “Strip” he commanded, making you stand up and work at untucking your shirt before unbuttoning it slowly. He watched as every button came undone, more of your gorgeous body was revealed to him, his eyes raking over your curves. The fabric soon dropped to the floor haphazardly next to his desk, to be forgotten about until later when it would be needed again. Next was your bra. His eyes were trained on you as he watched you unhook the backing, allowing it to slide down your arms and join your shirt in a growing pile. Your nipples had hardened from the temperature change, the exposure to the air and from the excitement coursing through you in anticipation of what was to come next. Then came your skirt, its simple button and zipper being undone allowing it to drop to the floor and pool around your feet with ease, earning a groan from him at the sight of you nearly naked before him. You hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties, working them down from your hips before they fell to your ankles, leaving you to kick them off to the side with rest of the pile. You watched with much intrigue and entertainment as he seemed to twitch with anticipation and need for you, making you giggle.

“How long has it been?” You asked curiously, a cocky grin on your lips and confidence in your tone as you looked at him, looping your arms around his neck. There it was again, your perfume, overwhelming his senses. “I beg your pardon?” He asked, brows furrowed and sending a rather defensive look your way. “How long has it been?” You asked again, watching as he looked you up and down. “Since?” He asked in reply, not seeming to understand what you were hinting at, or maybe he preferred you just spit it out. “Since you had sex. Can tell by the tension in your shoulders and the way you practically moan with every touch that it’s been a while” you pointed out playfully, making him a little angry that you managed to get beneath his surface and figure him out so well. “You best be careful of that mouth of yours. My kindness, even with you, has its limits” he responded, making you hum. “Then go ahead, be mean. I’m a big girl, I can take it” you challenged making him walk closer to you, inching you towards the edge of his desk. “You want me to be mean, do you?” He asked, the rasp of his voice lowering to a much deeper tone, a crooked smile resting on his lips. He couldn’t lie, the slight tinge of fear resting in your eyes when you felt your back hit his desk, telling you there was nowhere left to go, awakened something dark within him. Something carnal, animalistic. You looked like nothing more than helpless, vulnerable prey, and he was about to eat you alive. You couldn’t deny the predatory look in his eyes certainly worked wonders on you in return. “Don’t look so concerned…” he started, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek gently before leaning in close, leaving his lips just millimeters from yours.

“I’m about to make your day” he finished, his words mixed with the feel of his breath ghosting your lips so closely send a shiver through you in excitement.

It wasn’t long before his pants were around his ankles, thrusting his cock balls deep into your soaked cunt. Your shared panting and moans, paired with the creaking and screeching of the poor desk beneath you that had been slowly inching its way across the floor with each thrust, filled the room. Should anyone walk past his office, there would be no mistaking what was happening just behind the door. Though you supposed your moans could have likely alerted all of Zaun at this rate, with your first orgasm of the night already past you, it’d be a miracle if no one could hear you. Your head was tilted back as he drilled into you, gripping your hips with a bruising pressure as your arms looped around his neck for leverage. You watched as he looked down to the space where your bodies were connected, watching his length disappeared inside of you with ease. He couldn’t help but to notice the little white ring that rested at the base of his length from your previous orgasm as the sound of his hips smacking roughly against your ass filled the room. “Fuck! Oh gods, yes!” You moaned, making him grin. “How long has it been?” He asked, looking to you, waiting for a response from you but your pleasure-idled mind was so foggy you could hardly understand what he was asking you. “Since? Oh fuck! Right there!!” You replied the best you could, tilting your head back again, leaving your tits just inches from his face as your back arched upwards towards him. “Since someone fucked you right. Since someone made you feel this good” he finished, making you whine as his hand grabbed your jaw, squishing your cheeks as he forced you to look back up at him. The cute pout that rested on your face, occasionally morphing into ones of pleasure each time his tip bullied your cervix, had him rutting into you harder. “Never! Not ‘til you- oh!” You managed, making him chuckle as he relinquished you from his grip. “Pathetic. You put up all that fuss, do all that teasing and yet I still manage to get you right where I want you” he said through grunts of pleasure, his neatly slicked back hair slightly falling against his forehead that had a thin sheen of sweat. “Feels so good! Oh gods, Silco!” You moan pathetically, knowing he was exactly right but you didn’t care. You’d spend every night here like this with him if he made you feel this good every time.

You felt as that familiar sensation in your lower belly began to take root again as his lips captured your own in a messy but passionate kiss, your moans raising in pitch and growing closer together a clear sign that you were close. As if on que, his fingers traveled between your bodies, coming to rub your clit to give you that added bit of friction you so desperately needed. You gasped before moving your hips against his and his fingers, meeting his merciless thrusts and fucking yourself on his fingers. “You’re right where you belong. Beneath me like this, cumming on my cock as I please you like no one else ever will” he said, rubbing your clit faster to make up for the way his thrusts were beginning to lose rhythm. You were so close to finally falling over the precipice, your body feeling as if it were catching on fire as your every nerve ending lit up. His words were what sent you there. “You’re mine” he growled, biting into your shoulder as you came together, his bite sending you toppling over the edge into pure bliss, while your walls squeezed him tight, milking him of everything he’d been holding in for far too long. Your body twitched and spasmed with the intensity of your second orgasm of the night, a pleased hum leaving you as you felt him cum inside of you, throbbing repeatedly as he emptied everything into you.

You both sat there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms together, fighting to catch your breath. You watched him smooth his hair back with his hand, doing his best to get it out of his face and back to how it was originally styled, or at least the closest he could get it. You smiled as he kissed you softly, leaving you to cup his dance gently in your hands. “Are you alright?” He asked into it, checking to make sure he hadn’t overdone it and hurt you. You gave a hum then a giggle. “I feel wonderful” you said with a bubbly grin, making him chuckle as he continued to kiss you, not wishing to leave your arms or the taste of your sweet lips just yet. “Good, as do I” he replied, making you grin even wider. “Fuck yes you do” you said, playfully yet truthfully, making you both laugh. “Oh is that so? Have I ruined anyone else for you?” He asked, the hint of possessiveness in his tone as his lips traced down your neck. “You might have. Not that I care to find out, you said it yourself; this is exactly where I belong, and it’s exactly where I intend to stay” you said, your head tilted a little to grant him better access to your sensitive skin. You heard him groan next to your ear as his lips lingered upon all your most sensitive spots.

What caught you by absolute surprise was the sensation of him throbbing within you, twitching to life again from inside of you. You gave a gasp with both intrigue and excitement as he looked to you with a grin. Apparently your words had let the monster out, because stay there you would for nearly the rest of the night, getting lost in one another without a care for how sore you’d be tomorrow. It was well worth it when you were with him.

[cherienymphe]

Suburbia X

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, blackmail, voyeurism, stalking, breeding kink, eventual violence, age gap, brief side of Bucky x reader, babysitter!Peter, mommy!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

~

“Thanks for coming.”

That was what you finally said to Peter after you both had been sitting on your couch for what felt like hours. In truth, it was only about ten minutes, but the silence was so tense and heavy—and you were so nervous and terrified of the young man in front of you—that the time didn’t pass normally in your mind.

Peter wasn’t wearing his glasses today, and without them he looked beyond only twenty-three. Or maybe that was all in your head. Maybe the reveal of his true character and nature made him seem so much more intimidating…and in turn, older. His dark curls framed his face as he gazed at you, patiently waiting for you to say what he was no doubt eagerly waiting to hear.

“Well…” he ran his eyes over your face. “Over the phone I asked if this was about our talk, and you said sort of, so naturally I became curious.”

You nodded at that, glancing away from him and taking in the silence of your house. Your girls were asleep, and you envied them in this moment. You envied their innocence and their complete ignorance of what was going on around them and their own part in it. You would never in a million years tell them what you were about to put yourself through just to protect them and their quality of life, but you hoped they’d grow up to understand the lengths you would go to for them.

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“I wanted to tell you face to face that you were right,” you finally said, looking at him.

Peter’s face was hard to read, but there was a noticeable glint in his dark eyes that made your heart stutter. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he straightened, and it made him appear taller. You felt so small and insignificant beneath his gaze, and you desperately tried to remember what you were doing and why you were doing it. Peter had seamlessly shifted the power dynamic—and in the worst way possible—and you desperately needed to have the upperhand again.

“When I chose to be a single mom…I did it with no regrets and because it was genuinely what I wanted.”

Peter leaned in a bit, and you spoke up.

“...and so…determined to prove something, I think that I never even really considered the possibility of more. Of more helping hands, of more comforting figures in their lives, of more…love that could be given to my girls,” you continued, looking between his eyes. “...and me.”

Peter wasn’t saying anything, and you felt a stab of panic, wondering if he saw through you.

“You were right. You are so good to them…and me, and it’s terrifying not only because it’s new but also because it’s you.”

You abruptly stood, turning away from him.

“You’re so much younger and I hired you and Peter, you have to understand,” your voice cracked as you stared at the wall. “You have to understand how I’m feeling because this makes me look and feel like some predator, like-.”

You cut yourself off when familiar hands took your arms, forcing you to face him, and you watched the way Peter’s expression softened with one look at your face.

“I know that I said some unkind things, but this situation is very tricky and scary and has the potential to really change my life in a way that can’t be undone or at the very least not for years and years to come-.”

“I know that,” he whispered, finally speaking again. “Trust me, I understand-.”

“You say that, but if this doesn’t work out, you're not the one who’s going to have to deal with the fallout. Do you truly understand how people will see me? It doesn’t matter that this was reciprocated. Cougar will be one of the nicer words I’ll be referred to as…”

Your words died in your throat as Peter gently shushed you, one hand coming up to graze your now tearful cheek. The way he looked at you told you that he believed everything you were saying, but you couldn’t be sure. He leaned in a tad, and on instinct, you turned your face away. Your gaze lowered to focus on the floor, and you felt Peter’s breath on your face as he sighed.

“No. You’re not the kind of woman to just jump into something like this, and I should have known that,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “I should’ve known that you would panic and freak out and follow your initial instinct of rejecting this in every way you can.”

The younger man rubbed your arms, hands gently sliding up and down over the fabric of your sleeves, and you shuddered.

“You’re smart about things, and it’s why I love you,” he murmured, making your stomach churn. “I should have thought about that, gone about this differently.”

You finally met his gaze, and your heart dropped to your stomach at the way he looked at you. It reminded you of that night—or what you could remember from it, anyway—and the morning after and the day at the restaurant. One of his hands tightened on your arm, and you swallowed at the position you put yourself in.

“...but you don’t understand what you do to me,” Peter chuckled.

It was light, and his teeth winked at you, and his eyes gleamed in a way that terrified you. It didn’t matter what you believed because Peter believed he was in love with you and was the one for you and was the best father for your girls. His mind was made up, and you felt that you should’ve accepted as such when he went through such great lengths to back you into a corner.

He handled this whole ordeal like a man with nothing to lose, and you supposed that in a way, that was true. In this scenario, you were the one with way more to lose. If this ever got out, you would be the villain in this story, and it was something that Peter had so eloquently thrown in your face.

“I don’t think I can say I regret confronting you like I did at the restaurant,” he confessed, his thumb brushing along your lip. “...but believe it or not, I didn’t take pleasure in putting things into perspective for you like that.”

So that was what he was calling it.

“I don’t take pleasure in hurting you in any way, even if it is only making you uncomfortable for a short while, but I needed to make you understand. Understand what you mean to me and what I would do to have you.”

When his lips gently brushed along yours, you let him kiss you.

“You don’t even know the things I would do for you—the things I have done for you,” he whispered into the kiss, and you couldn’t stop your form from trembling.

Peter noticed, and he made a humming noise.

“There are a lot of things for you to fear in this world, but now that we see eye to eye, I’ll never be one of them.”

You felt tears kiss your eyes as he tried to kiss you again, but spoke, effectively halting his movements.

“It’s not you I’m afraid of, Peter.”

A lie.

He seemed to understand what you were getting at, and he chuckled again. The dark-haired man pulled back some to gaze at you like you were so silly, and you hated how boyish that smile made him.

“You’re it for me, Y/N. Don’t you get that? Hmm?”

He held your gaze with his own dark one.

“Whatever comes of this, you’ll never have to doubt my loyalty. I’m going to be by your side when things inevitably progress into something more public, and I will make sure that whatever those…” he took a deep breath, lip curling over his teeth. “...women put you through, it will be worth it.”

His brows drew together as he fought to make you believe his words.

“I swear to you, now that it won’t hold a candle to coming home to me everyday. I’m going to make you so happy that whatever they have to say won’t mean a thing to you.”

Peter kissed you again then, deeply inhaling.

“I’m not going anywhere…”

You knew that those words—if nothing else—were true, and that was what you hated.

You stood with your arms around yourself as you watched Peter bring a suitcase into the house. You had prepared yourself for this, anticipating by all of his actions so far that Peter was not one to take things slow. Or at least, he didn’t want to take things slowly with you. Besides, if you were going to get your hands on every copy of that tape he possibly had, then you needed to be up under each other’s noses.

You needed him to be comfortable enough to bring his things—his laptop—into your house and not spare your proximity a second thought. When he caught your eye, you gave him a gentle smile, and while he was slow to return it, he eventually did. You took your time in nearing him.

“I know how nervous this makes you,” he told you, and he reached for your face. “It’s okay. We’ll be discreet for a while, and I’ll gradually make myself at home, and when the time is right…”

He trailed off, a secretive smile dancing on his lips at the thought of going public with you one day.

“Thank you,” you finally replied. “You don’t even understand how much that puts me at ease, Peter. Especially since I know how difficult this is for you.”

The look he gave you encouraged you to elaborate, and so you did.

“While I might not completely understand it just yet, you do love me, and it can’t be easy hiding a relationship with someone you care about so much.”

You noticed the way his face fell a bit at that, and you reached out to rest your hand on his arm.

“I don’t doubt that you want to navigate like any other couple in the world, but you’re being considerate of me and how this will affect me, and it means a lot.”

You stepped closer, and you watched Peter’s eyes drink in the action.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered to him.

At that, he didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you played with the fabric of his sweater.

“...and I’m sorry that I let my fear and panic prevent me from seeing that before.”

You watched him take a deep breath, dark eyes still trained on you.

“It’s okay,” he quietly told you. “I forgive you for that, you don’t have to…”

He shook his head.

“Don’t apologize for it.”

You took his hand, and Peter was eager in threading his fingers through yours. He pulled you along up the stairs to unpack, and you told yourself that smiling in his face and kissing him with your eyes closed and telling him what he wanted to hear was the easy part. As you walked down the hall—Peter taking the lead—you reminded yourself that the hard part was only just beginning. 

The real challenge would come in cohabitating with him like he was someone you cared about. The truly hard part of all this would come when he wanted to shower together and wrap his arms around you in bed and pull you against him like you were any average couple in love. 

When he wanted to have sex with you.

This would go beyond just acting, but you would have to fully embody someone else—someone who cared about this man almost as much as he cared about you but was simply hesitant and nervous. You would have to take on an entirely new persona, and to make it all the more challenging, you had to do it in enough time to get what you needed before he wanted this relationship to go public.

…because you didn’t care what Peter said.

He wasn’t going to be content with keeping this between you forever.

You hadn’t missed the way he’d said Bucky’s name at that restaurant. There were more sides to Peter you hadn’t been privy to yet, and you hoped to God that you never would be, but you knew without a doubt that there was a part of Peter that wanted to show this entire town you belonged to him. Peter had never struck you as that kind of man, but then again, there were a lot of things about him that you absolutely would have never guessed.

As you helped him unpack what he brought over, you tried to keep your face even at the sight of clothes and toiletries and nothing else.

“I’ll have to tell Nat that I rehired you, of course,” you said to him, hesitantly glancing his way. “It seems silly to have you hide away any time she comes over.”

Peter found that funny for some reason, and he nodded.

“Of course. What are you going to tell her when she asks why?”

You stewed on that for a moment.

“I haven’t decided on that yet. Maybe I’ll tell her that I just really need you around, right now,” you eventually came up with, and it wasn’t a lie.

“Well, it’s not a lie,” he said, voicing your own thought. “You do need me.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of your neck, pausing in his unpacking to give you his attention. Peter’s intentions were pretty clear, and you didn’t doubt that said intentions had been on his mind from the moment you’d uttered the words ‘you were right’ earlier. While you knew that it would eventually come to that—probably as soon as hours from now—you weren’t mentally prepared. You couldn’t make your body do that, right now, and so you hurried to ruin his mood.

“I’ll have to tell Bucky the same…”

Your words had the desired effect, and you relaxed a little when Peter froze. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck to rest his chin on it, and while you had expected several things, you hadn’t expected the next words that came from his mouth.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Mr. Barnes to come by here, anymore.”

You couldn’t stop your frown at that, and you pulled away just a little to turn and face him. Peter’s visage was entirely serious, and your frown deepened as you realized this. His expression didn't relent at all the longer you stared at him, and you were the one to break the tense silence.

“Peter…”

“I’m serious,” he confirmed, moving to finish unpacking the rest of his clothes. “Now that our relationship has evolved, I don’t want him coming by here anymore.”

“...but he’s my friend.”

The younger man gave a scoffing bark of a laugh at that, and you watched him run his hand through his thick curls.

“Friend,” he repeated. “Yeah, sure.”

The humor disappeared from his features by the time he looked at you again.

“He’s your friend because you didn’t want more with him. If you had, he wouldn’t be your friend right now, and we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”

You blinked at that.

“The kind that would involve me telling you to break up with him because I actually dislike sharing.”

His tone was serious, and you swallowed as he stared you down. Your lips parted, and you snapped them shut, thinking over your next words carefully.

“If I suddenly stop being friends with him, it’ll be very suspicious, Peter.”

He stared at you for what felt like too long, expression unmoving before his lips suddenly pulled into a small smile.

“While true, I imagine that him walking in on you coming around me would be even more suspicious.”

His words had you blinking furiously, but before you could respond to such a thinly veiled threat, you heard a familiar cry. The curly-haired young man didn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing in favor of checking on whichever twin had woken up from her nap first.

You were still tense from his parting words, and telling yourself that you needed to pick your battles wisely, you softly sighed.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright ask Peter to delete that video. It was so brazenly stupid that not only would Peter accuse you of not trusting him, but he might even suspect this whole thing was an act. He’d be right, of course, and it was why you had to convincingly get him settled into a comfortable lull. 

…and you had to do that by committing to doing things you weren’t comfortable doing.

Your fingers clawed at your sheets as Peter’s tongue swiped between your folds and pressed itself into your core. Your girls were down for the night, and you knew that as soon as they were, and dinner was done and put away, Peter would waste no time in reaching out for what he felt now belonged to him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened,” he’d murmured to you, humming at the taste of wine on your lips.

You’d concluded that you needed something in your system if you were to commit to this.

“The sounds you made, the way you tasted on my lips,” he’d breathed into your mouth. “The way you felt wrapped around me.”

He’d taken a reprieve on the stairs, just pinning you against the wall and kissing you. His hands hadn’t stayed in one place for long, touching every inch of you that he could, and when he seemed satisfied, he continued in pulling you towards your bedroom.

“Fuck,” he’d swore into the kiss the moment you were through the threshold. “I can’t wait to be inside of you again.”

The moments that followed bled together into one long endless pleasurable moment. You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that Peter was so skilled and so determined to make you come undone. You found it shockingly easy to surrender to his ministrations, unable to swallow down your moans and whimpers as he ate you out.

His tongue—so warm and firm—greedily lapped at you, and his fingers pressed into your thighs so hard that you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises in the morning. Your chest arched as you squirmed on the bed, and unable to help yourself, one of your hands found it’s way to his curls. Peter hummed against your cunt, and you knew that he liked that.

You confirmed as much when he reached up to find your other hand before forcing it to find a home in his hair right next to your other one. You were completely naked—Peter having wasted no time in getting your clothes off of you—but your nudity did nothing to cool you down. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you absentmindedly recalled that Peter was only partially undressed.

It seemed that he only just remembered that too, and when he pulled his mouth away from you, you were ashamed of the stab of disappointment that tore through you. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, and you blinked as you watched him sit up before getting undressed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he did, pulling his lip between his teeth as he rejoined you on the bed, a hand wrapping around your ankle. The wine in your system definitely helped you to relax, but if you were honest, it did more than that. Playing this part came to you easier than you anticipated, and that worried you a little. Maybe even scared you a little.

The younger man was gentle in running his hand up your leg, fingers dancing along your skin as he did so. His dark eyes appeared even darker if that were at all possible, and in this moment, it was evident that Peter cared about nothing more than he did the thought of being inside of you again.

Glancing down, you caught sight of his cock—erect and wet at the very tip and just waiting to fill you up.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Peter murmured, reaching for your face.

When he kissed you, you didn’t swallow down your hum in time, and your throat vibrated as it climbed out of your mouth and into the kiss. Peter’s entire body covered yours as he made himself comfortable on top of you, and—playing your part—you rested your hands on his back. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you.

Peter didn’t waste any more time.

Forcing your knees to hook over his arms, Peter lifted his hips and dipped his cock into you with one smooth thrust. A choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time. Your hands slid over him, unsure of what to grasp onto, and you couldn’t stop the small whimpers that started to fall from your lips.

Peter was fucking you with the assured confidence that he finally had you.

The strained grunts that left his mouth were in time with every push of his cock, and you were almost ashamed of how wet you were. Although, you supposed that it would only prove to help you in convincing Peter this was genuine. You were literally dripping around him, and you repeatedly reminded yourself that you were playing a part. That you were doing what you needed to do to earn his trust and get him to let his guard down.

Although that was easier said than done when his lips kept seeking yours out. Every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasped again when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there. His toned chest repeatedly brushed against yours with every movement, and the gentle stimulation against your hardened buds made you shudder beneath him.

Every time he dipped his cock into you, the sound reached your ears…and his too.

“You’re dripping for me,” he whispered into the kiss. “I love how wet you are.”

You wanted to come up with something to say to reel him in more, but you were genuinely at a loss for words. It was hard to focus on anything besides the feel of him stretching you out.

“I’m so glad you came around, So glad,” he murmured, kissing you over and over and over again. “I really…I really didn’t want to do things the hard way.”

Your bed shook beneath you as Peter pounded into you, his curls tickling your skin.

“You may not believe that, but it’s true.”

He finally paused, holding himself inside of you as he pulled his head back some. He stared into your eyes—both of your chests heaving—and he looked between them as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I meant it when I said I don't take pleasure in hurting you. That’s not something that makes me happy,” he said through uneven breaths.

He slowly pulled his hips back before snapping them against you again, and you gasped. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, carefully watching your face.

“...but I’ll do what I have to. You understand?”

He didn’t give you time to respond.

“I’m smart, and you know it, and I know you know it.”

Your nails dragged along his skin as he thrust into you slowly, taking his time in pushing the length of him into you.

“So if all of this is just you playing at something, then you need to be prepared to play at it for the rest of your life,” he whispered to you, staring into your eyes. “...because you don’t know the things I’ve done to protect you.”

Your wide eyes looked between his at that.

“...and I’ll do worse to keep you.”

[sleepynoons]

hi op feel free to ignore everything under - all you need to know is i love your writing *shakes head vigorously*

there are several things i think were immaculately done, but that'd require me to churn out an entire research paper, which i don't have the brain cells for anymore post-finals. so here are some scattered thoughts yep and yap

-

i don't gravitate towards mysterious or reserved characters because my personality simply doesn't mesh well with them. in fact, when i was watching wbk, i was always so wary of suo, and felt lowkey a lil uncomfortable with him LMFAO

but strangely enough, i think this discomfort became a very integral and driving force throughout my reading experience. of course, this was already the case due to the violent and dark nature of yakuzas, underground sex work, etc., but emphasizing suo's yandere-ness and how he doesn't shy away from it really completed the tone of the story. also, i feel like i came to terms with suo's character, which i rarely ever experience in general. really, this is all to say that it makes total logical sense in my brain to imagine a route where suo evolves into a yandere, and part of me strongly believes his real background in the wbk manga/anime won't be too happy-go-lucky either (otherwise the alternative would be like him wearing an eyepatch for the shtick bc he's a chuuni??? idrk????).

anyway, the reoccurring theme of redirection in suo's tactics really sealed the deal for me, and i think it was a good way to tie in references to his relationship to his master, the martial arts that we know he's especially good at, and how all of these things he's kinda exploited and sullied to "become a worse person for you." suo being very knowing and intentional is so snakey and creepy but also, i get a lil fucked up when it comes to men who are obsessed, so also incredibly erotic LMFAO i also just want someone to buy me a luxury penthouse out of concern for my safety *sad fist bump*

one thing i did find unexpected is suo's leadership within the yakuza. yes, necessary for the plot, otherwise he wouldn't be able to pull any strings. but because source material heavily emphasizes leaders as individuals like umemiya or sakura or even hiiragi, it's interesting to place suo in juxtaposition with them. not sure if it's bc i don't find suo particularly reliable in general, but i think this fic made me realize that he's still wise beyond his years and very, very ruthless. it's def very telling that, throughout the story, suo resorts to fear to assert power. anyway, i j think it was a particularly interesting detail to add in his role in the succession conflict.

btw, i do like how suo's change and transition isn't fully told or revealed. it's not a story meant for us, as it's a truth really for suo and reader. but even reader can't really keep up with him at times, and i find that dynamic really charming, as sadistic as that sounds. i like that reader is so vulnerable. i like that reader is not afraid to be vulnerable around him in the ways that matter, even when she's aware that he's fucking insane. and i really like that reader is aware of how much it takes to be vulnerable, so she doesn't push him. i think reader restrains herself (un)knowingly, and that's her way of loving him. obv less romantic in real life lol (don't try to fix anyone, been there, done that, lost myself, and still finding myself), but i do like how reader is suo's salvation :,,, even if she doesn't think she's particularly patient, she really is - like girl, Fuck Him Already!!!!!!

(could go on and on about how juicy the friction and tension is between suo and reader but that's for pt 2 hehehe)

this is kinda my half-assed transition into talking about reader, and honestly, my thoughts from earlier encapsulate the general thesis i have about her: she's really a lot like suo, way more than she thinks. i think she operates in very similar ways, just goes about it differently.

i think reader is way more reckless. she's very self-sacrificing. she's very good at putting up a front, even when she's internally low in confidence and self-respect. i think she just wants to be happy with suo, and hopefully, with their other friends as well.

and truly, i think suo has very similar end goals. i just think, with how things turned out, suo made the very calculated yet risky (also aggressive?) decision to do the things that he did. making their underlying principals and values and reactions so oddly similar, from my perspective, is sooooo neat, and it adds more depth to why they go so well together.

also, reader is so brilliantly the comedic relief in this whole thing. usually, in storytelling, it's someone else and is used as fodder. i really like how reader is a lil awkward and bad with timing and everything else, cause it makes the reading experience flow so much better. really helped with the pacing of the story, gave it the character + breathing space needed to process everything. i also just like my readers a little fucking hilarious.

anyway, op, so beautifully written - see you in pt 2 gg

TOKYO VICE | part 1

You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions. (Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)

8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft – no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!

sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip

part 2 here

You’re not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.

It’s certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By ‘interest’, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.

You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelings—insecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girls’ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.

The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and it’s generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and it’s an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, he’s your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go south—both severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.

Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.

Now, strictly speaking—you're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. It’s definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, you’ve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.

When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, you’d grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approached—you had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going to—and you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.

Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.

Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.

Then Suo’s master died, and he lost his fucking mind.

The two of you buried Suo’s master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suo’s master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.

Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.

You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.

Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.

“Master supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,” he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. “So it'll be fine. We’ll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.”

At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didn’t think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. He’d still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behaviours—not so different from the martial art that he practised.

He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girls’ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your own—but it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.

This was Suo’s brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering them—a behaviour he’d mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suo’s values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his master—who represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.

Thus, the death of Suo’s master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.

He especially became a worse person with you.

As it turned out, Suo’s idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasn’t that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it became—put as nicely as possible—heavy-handed.

After your master’s death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.

Suo’s response was to simply become the owner of your club.

This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you weren’t going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibate—not only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).

His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.

The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.

His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Or—nevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. And—ah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourself—you were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.

These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in point—he was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.

“I'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,” Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.

So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.

While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.

You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.

But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.

Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.

Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.

It’s a perfect plan. Suo’s oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Street—largely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suo’s men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relations—it would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.

A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.

Suo’s expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacup—custom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapot—down on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.

“Come again?”

“I'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,” you repeat. “I already gave the mamasan my resignation.”

“And she accepted it?” Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. “How interesting,” he muses. “What brought this on?”

“I've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.”

“I'll give you a raise,” he says easily.

“A raise?” You cock a brow. “The pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.”

“Then it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, and”—his smile grows sharp—“very polite.”

Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.

“It's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that we’re married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anyway”—you frown, trying to look as pathetic as possible—“I'm lonely.”

Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other people—unless he needs to text you.

So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, you’ve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.

“Lonely?” he repeats. “Are you, now?”

“Yes. You work so much,” you complain, which is not a lie, “and I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.”

“You have friends from work.”

“No, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.”

“You like Shuuhei and Hanzo,” he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.

“Yeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.” Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: “They're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the boss’ wife?”

“Hm…” Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to say—maybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.

The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. “And how would working on Keisei Street help?” he asks.

“Because all our old friends are there!” you exclaim. “Sakura’s in Roppo-Ichiza now so he’ll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite often—and even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.” You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. “Please, Suo?”

“Hm.” He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. “I don’t think so. It’s not very safe there.”

He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.

But undeterred, you point out, “Shuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?”

This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. “Well, if it's him…”

“I even texted him about it. Look—here!” You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. “He says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe it—Sakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.”

“Huh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.” Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but it’s made you realise that you really do miss your friends—and Suo probably does too.

“If I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,” you point out, feeling somewhat tender.

“I guess that's true,” Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to his—platonically—then you definitely would.

Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suo’s syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suo’s greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, he’ll kill them too.

Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.

In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little risky—especially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza aren’t yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.

But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.

I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled it—I know you like fragrant things—so I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.

He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.

Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suo’s just a regular guy who isn’t homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.

Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, “Pardon?” He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.

“She's always going to love hotels after her shifts.” Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. “I thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suo—are you really okay with this?”

On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Street—but you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.

“Um,” you say. “It's just business.”

“Business,” Suo repeats.

“You don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,” Sakura grouses, unaware of Suo’s carefully suppressed rage. “You're real popular already.”

“Are you?” Suo asks, looking right at you.

“I mean—I told you the pay would be better, right?” you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.

“Oh,” Sakura says, looking between the two of you. “Suo, you didn't know?”

“I didn't,” he says. “Actually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.” He turns to you, still smiling. “That's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?”

A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! I’ll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said he’d make sure I’ll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!

“Um,” you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.

“Wait,” Sakura demands, “what do you mean by ‘allowed her’? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?”

Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, “Generally no. But we’re dating now, which complicates what she’s allowed to do with other men at her job.”

Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.

“I… um?!” Sakura’s staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. “I thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?”

“Ah, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.” Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. “We were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.”

“...”

You’re going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!

“Oh… holy shit.” Sakura’s expression is complicated—somehow, more complicated than yours, even though you’re the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, “Congrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.”

Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. “We were thinking you could be our best man,” he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.

“O-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?”

“Rather than having a maid of honour,” you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, “we’d like him to be our best man as well.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. “When were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.”

“I’m not sure.” Suo turns to you. “What were we thinking again, dear?”

You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, he’ll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. You’ll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.

Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, “I think we were talking about a summer wedding.”

The drive home is awkward.

Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, who’s drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirm—which you do.

You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, “So you're sleeping with your customers.”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“For business?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you make?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“How much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?”

You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.

“So you make less than you did at Red Dragon,” Suo concludes, “and you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.” He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.

“So,” he says, “what’s the real reason you changed jobs?”

Already knowing that he’ll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, “I just wanted to start having sex again.”

Suo blinks. “You… what?”

“I wanted to have sex with people,” you repeat. “I hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.” You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. “I'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.”

He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. He’d designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, it’s definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.

“Do you like it?” Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.

“What?”

“Do you enjoy having sex with your customers?” he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. “Does it make you happy?”

You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and then—finally, inevitably—your long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.

To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.

You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by him—embraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with him—and you realised that you didn’t actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experience—in that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.

This was a feeling so disgusting that you’ve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.

“Yeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.” You pretend to study your nails. “Sometimes I cum, which is all I really want.”

Suo keeps staring at you. “That’s it?” he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“That's all you want? Just to get off?”

You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.

“Yes, that's all.”

No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.

If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.

So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.

Suo doesn’t come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwise—but I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, I’m sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.

You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sight—presumably so you don’t fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like that—so you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.

You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak off—and for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.

It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driver’s licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think you’d need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)

So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigars—both evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its owner’s authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.

And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.

“Yeah, actually,” you say. “I'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?”

The bouncer—or chinpira, you guess—bristles.

“You're looking for who?”

“Yanzhao?” you say impatiently. “Eyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?”

The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.

You take a step back. “Um. I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. You’ll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.

It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brother’s knife.

“Anesan!” he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpira’s knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleague—whose face has turned very white in a very short amount of time—into an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.

“Oh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?”

“Yes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brother’s idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.” There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. “If you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy to—”

“No, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.” If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documents—Suo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. “By the way,” you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, “have you seen my husband?”

Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, “You can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.”

You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long time—you can’t think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. “What, is he cheating on me?” you guess.

“What? No! Aniki would never!” Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “He's crazy about you!”

“Then I'm sure he’ll be happy to see me,” you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and you’re taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suo’s been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.

Then the door opens, and you’re given your answer in the form of several body bags—all cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.

“Oh,” you say faintly. You try not to throw up. “So this is why he hasn't been home.”

“Exactly!” Yamashita replies, beaming. “See, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!”

Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days he’s stressed, though he never admits it when he is.

The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.

Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonald’s after going to a club.

You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girls’ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. “No thanks,” he says predictably, “I'm on a diet.” Then he turns and looks right at you—startling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quiet—and gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. “Would my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?”

“No thanks,” you reply, “but your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.”

The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. You’re left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (You’d rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.

A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suo’s hands—delicately adjusting your body—are still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.

You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.

“You didn't call or come home,” you start.

“I thought it would be too dangerous.”

You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. “Was this a rival organisation?”

“No. They were ours.” He sighs. “A succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.”

You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his master’s influence, and something that appeals to his current ‘father’. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. He’s almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose it’s natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.

“You’ve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,” you say. “I was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.”

Suo’s hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.

“They knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.” Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. “It’s fine. They won't bother you ever again.” The cheerful smile returns. “And if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.”

Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much loneliness—whether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sure—you can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, “I know.”

Suo’s expression dims a little then. “I thought you'd like the space anyway.”

“What?” You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. “Why would you think that?”

“I thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.” You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, “You didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.”

“...”

You try not to look disturbed. Suo’s apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worse—you immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is… well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.

Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: “Who would you have been, um, okay with touching me?”

“Sakura or Nirei,” he says immediately. “Though only Sakura would be interested.”

“What.” You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. “Bullshit. He would never.”

“Yes, he would.” Suo tilts his head. “Haven't you noticed?”

“I don't think there's anything to notice? And also—he’s so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!” You give him a bewildered look. “He couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!”

“Embarrassed?” Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. “Is that what you thought was going on?”

“Was there anything else?”

He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. “Well—it’s fine,” he says. “It doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.”

You make a face. “I still can't believe that's the cover you went for.”

“Are you upset with it?” he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.

Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. “So, given that you are now my fiancé, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?”

You don’t expect it when Suo says, “No, you can.”

You stare. “What?”

“You can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?” Suo’s brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. “Do you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?”

Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. “No,” you tell him. “I just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.” It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sad—you’re still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master died—and also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.

Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, “You’re really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.”

Suo’s mouth curls—not in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.

“I'm sure we’ll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.”

END PART 1

thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!

also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

pretty words and pretty.... you?

james potter x reader who doesn't believe she's pretty but james has the opposite views

↬ word count : 696 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : insecurity, self-doubt, fluff, mild angst ⭑.ᐟ

↬ inspired from : these lyrics » ★ | ★ | ★

↬ author's note : just me wishing james would say this to me. ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

navigation┆ james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, its light painting warm patterns on the walls. You sat curled in the corner of a worn-out armchair, legs tucked under you, pretending to read the same page of a book you hadn’t been able to focus on for the past fifteen minutes. Your gaze, however, kept drifting to James Potter.

He was sprawled on the couch, explaining Quidditch strategies to Sirius, who nodded along with only half his attention. His glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, and the way his hands moved when he spoke made your heart stutter every single time.

You didn’t understand why you were like this—why his voice could calm the storms in your head or why his laugh felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. You’d long convinced yourself that James was unattainable, untouchable, and utterly out of your league. A boy like that didn’t look twice at someone like you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Until tonight.

“Hey.” James’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts. He stood over you, his hands tucked into his pockets, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You okay, angel? You’ve been staring at that book for ages.”

Angel. He always called you that. But tonight, it felt heavier, sweeter—like honey dripping from his tongue.

“Uh—yeah,” you stammered, closing the book a little too quickly. “Just... distracted, I guess.”

James chuckled, his hazel eyes sparkling as he dropped into the seat across from you. “Distracted by what? Or... who?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly looked away. “No one.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he teased, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His gaze softened, a rare gentleness settling over him. “Come on, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Pretty.

The word landed like a spell, and you froze. Pretty. He thought you were pretty?

“Did I say something wrong?” James asked, his brows furrowing when you didn’t respond.

“N-no,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s just... I’m not—”

“Not what?”

You hesitated, staring at your hands. “I’m not pretty,” you admitted, the words spilling out like a confession. “Not really.”

The room felt suffocating quiet for a moment, and you braced yourself for his reply, for the awkwardness that would follow.

But then James laughed softly—not cruelly, but incredulously, like you’d just told him the most ridiculous joke he’d ever heard. “You’re joking, right?”

You looked up at him, confusion etched across your face.

“Angel, you’re—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you as if trying to find the right words. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your breath hitched.

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice earnest now. “You—everything about you—it’s like you walked out of a dream. I don’t know how you don’t see it.”

Your chest tightened, your heart hammering against your ribs. For years, you’d shrugged off compliments, dismissing them as politeness or flattery. But something about the way James said it, the way his voice trembled just slightly, like he couldn’t believe you didn’t already know—it made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

“James...” you began, your voice cracking.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so you’d meet his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. But I need you to know this—you’re beautiful. Inside and out. And if you can’t believe it yet, that’s okay. I’ll tell you every single day until you do.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring his face. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

In that moment, you felt it—the walls you’d built around yourself cracking, the weight of your insecurities lifting just slightly. When he looked at you like that, like you hung the moon and stars, it was hard not to believe him.

When he loved you, you felt like you were floating.

When he called you pretty, you felt like somebody.

And for the first time in forever, you thought—maybe you really were.

[parfaitblogs]

winter wonderland ❀ s. reid x reader

in which it snows, you have a vision for a snowman, and spencer reid is all too easy to convince. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. brat enabler!spencer reid!!! pathetic corny potentially tooth rotting fluff. they kiss a lot.  word count: 1k a/n: wrote this for margot because i mean she did request it… lol… brat enabler spencer reid is prevalent but i mean that's just the parfaitblogs' spencer reid on the reg…

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

If Spencer Reid were ever to pursue a prosecuting career, he'd hope to God you are never his opposition. 

Too many of his firm personal rules held no weight when they challenged your own, and his ground almost always dissolves under his feet the second you disagree. 

Like going out in the snow. 

One minute he was appreciating the grey skies and white sheet covering the ground, and the next, he was pulling boots and winter clothes onto his body to cover up.

An argument that he so sorely lost, that began with you asking him to go out into the snow with him. 

His response had been, "No, there's still snow falling—" not really "—and it'll be freezing."

"That's what warm clothes are for!" 

And even if he wanted to back himself up and not give in, you were handing him a scarf and a sweater, regardless. Never mind the fact that you had already dressed up ready for the snow, looking warm and so pretty, and Spencer was but a man ridiculously in love with you. 

So, he let you drag him out to the snow without any more complaints. 

And you had agreed on a snowman. A simple, normal snowman with a carrot nose and pebbles for his buttons. The only compromise made was Spencer agreeing to you using his purple scarf to wrap around the snowman's neck, instead of a typical red one like he was imagining. 

Truth be told, making a snowman with you was proving to be very difficult. 

His first battle began with you refusing to wear mittens out of the house, claiming you needed the extra grip for the snow to make the perfect shapes. A fifteen minute dispute was what it took for you to reluctantly cover the skin of your hands. Even then, he caught you trying to remove the fabric from your fingers time and time again.

The second battle lay within the design of the snowman. You begging to make something fun, and Spencer reminding you of the agreement to make a normal snowman until you gave up. 

And yet, somewhere between the collection of the snow, rolling it into balls, and putting the snowman together, it developed from a regular shaped snowman, to one with ears strangely resembling a bunny. 

You had conned Spencer Reid, and made a bunny snowman. 

"How did this happen?" he mumbles, almost exasperated, as you grin proudly at the snow creation presented before him.

Mind you, he knew exactly how this happened. 

Your lips had found his in the short period of time between picking up the carrot and carrying it to put into the snowball head, and truly, he is unable to focus when you are that close to him. Which should not be held against him.

A gentle kiss that parted with the fog cloud of your two breaths mingling, the cold nipping at your lips, rendering him thoughtless and confused for half a second too long. That was when the carrot had disappeared. 

Then, as he was placing the pebbles over the lower half of the face for the snowman's smile, you had turned him around to face you, coaxing him in for another kiss that he — this time — had enough willpower to say no to. 

Your response was to shove a fistful of snow into the crook of his neck, encouraging a snow fight he had been trying to avoid this entire time. 

"You do know that smothering my neck and face in snow can cause frostbite. Or hypothermia. The cold can encourage heart attacks and—" You threw another snowball at him. 

"It's a snowball. It wont kill you."

Really, he should've picked up on your distraction techniques sooner. Usually, he did. You were easy enough to read once he had gotten to know you, and your antics were a regular enough occurrence that he could tell when you were in a specific mood. 

But still, you had deceived him, and he hadn't suspected a thing. 

"Do you like her?" you chirp from beside him, a large grin on your lips. 

"A snowman. We agreed on a regular snowman."

"It is a snowman," you protested, albeit weakly, staring at the crooked, bunny resembling pile of snow. "She's... unconventional."

"It's a bunny."

"But isn't she cute?" you press, staring up at him with widened eyes. "Say yes. Please say yes."

He huffs, his breath painting the cold air just past his lips. His resolve is seemingly incredibly easy to dissipate when you stare at him like that. "Yes. She's cute." 

You grin at his agreement, standing on your toes to peck his cheek. 

Though, he's quick to catch your waist and tug you closer, melting cold lips against your own. Out of shock and maybe too much glee, you laugh, and you feel him smile against your mouth. 

Fingers lift to your hair and thread through it, and you're grateful the two of you had decided to play with the snow in your backyard. You aren't sure if he'd kiss you like this out the front of your home. 

"Can we compromise and make another regular snowman?" you ask him, the second his lips part only a fraction from yours. 

He pauses, his eyes searching your face, inevitably for a hint of you trying to deceive him once more. Certain he finds none, he nods his head. "Yes. We can."

You happily smile back at him, your head turning to the side so you can look at your bunny snowman once again. "She's growing on you, though, right?"

"I guess," he turns his own head. "She kind of looks like you."

Your eyebrows furrow. "Oddly shaped and on a lean?"

"Cute," he clarifies with a laugh, locking eyes with you once more. "Be kinder to yourself."

"I am."

You're met with a pointed look, but he's an expert at picking his battles with you, for he sighs, then simply says, "Just start rolling more snow."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[wqnwoos]

mistletoe / lee chan x f!reader / for @bitchlessdino

On December 23rd, Chan decides he’s going to tell you the truth. The whole, entire truth, the one that nestles warm and aching in the cage of his ribs and sometimes forces its way into his throat, or sends swooping sensations down to the bottom of his stomach — that truth. Chan decides he’s going to tell you that truth, he’s going to tell you everything, for a number of reasons; for five reasons, specifically. 

reason one — first snow. Chan has never really been a superstitious person, but snow came early this year, and it came when he was with you. It’d just been another cold, dark November day, and Chan had felt everything but; he was warm and full and a little bit tipsy, maybe, but it was the weekend, and he was with you. That required at least a little liquid courage, to get through dinner with you and a couple other friends in some hole-in-the-wall, sat opposite you as you laughed under the dim yellow lighting. And then he was offering you a ride home with his driver, because it’s on my way, and he’d only grinned sheepishly when you’d frowned and said no it isn’t, but you’d accepted anyway. 

The snow starts falling as he walks you to the door of your building. You’re halfway through a laugh because of some dumb joke he’s made, and he’s feeling like the entire world is in the palm of his hand because of your laugh, and then you both realise snowflakes are falling at the same time. Chan’s not a superstitious person, but when he looks at you underneath the midnight sky and the floating snowflakes, he hopes there’s some sort of truth to it all.

reason two — his name. When you first met him, you asked him if he preferred Chan or Dino or something else and he’d never really had a preference until that exact moment. Something about the way you say his name has made his insides go molten since his very first time meeting you, a friend of a friend at a birthday party. He’s never fallen so fast and so hard as he did that day, seeing you carrying a candle-lit cake for your friend, smiling that smile of yours. Somehow, he didn’t make that clear enough to both himself and to you, and instead of making a move, asking you out, the two of you ended up friends – friends for close to two years now. Chan had thought (hoped) that his initial crush would fade; instead, it only became stronger with each passing day.

reason three — he almost has. Every time he sees you, it nearly slips; it waits at the tip of his tongue. He’s almost told you at least four times, barely managing to catch himself at the last second. Chan can’t keep a secret to save his life, and keeping this one has been the heaviest thing he’s had to carry for a long time. Of course, Seungkwan knows, because Seungkwan’s friends with you too, and he’s too perceptive for his own good. A couple of his other friends and members have suspicions, about some vague person he has a soft spot for. But nobody really knows, and Chan is tired of not telling people. He’s tired of not telling you.

reason four — he wants to. You’re the nicest person he knows. If you’re going to let him down, you’re going to let him down so gently Chan thinks he’ll barely even feel it. Rationally speaking, there’s not a universe where you make him feel bad about anything, let alone this. He doesn’t exactly enjoy being pitied, but something tells him that’s not you anyway. Really, this whole thing is equal parts hope and a desperate need for closure. An outright rejection could be better than the maybes that keep him awake at night.

reason five — which is what everything boils down to, really. It’s you.

And so Chan goes to Seungkwan’s annual house party on December 23rd with his mind fully made up: he’s going to tell you. He’s going to tell you that he’s had a ridiculously huge crush on you for two years, and he’s really tried to get over it, and he thinks you’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him. And somewhere in there, he’s gotta sneak in the Christmas gift he got you, despite you telling him every year not to.

It turns out, once he gets there, that telling you is much harder than expected. Seungkwan’s outdone himself this year, decorations strewn around the apartment he shares with Jeonghan, making everything look warm and festive and cosy, and then there’s you in the middle of it. When he arrives, a little late because of all the pep talks he had to give himself in front of the mirror, you’re carrying a candlelit cake. Just like the day he first met you.

His breath catches in his throat, and he thinks, just quickly, that he’ll never be able to get over you. And then he’s pushing the thought away, greeting his friends, settling in his usual place by your side. The same as every year, only this time his mind is on one thing, and one thing only.

He decides to wait until the end to do it; heartbreak isn’t particularly festive, and he’s sure Seungkwan wouldn’t appreciate the damper on his party. But the night seems to stretch forever, and the anxious pit in his stomach doesn’t help in the slightest. Neither does the fact that his eyes are constantly glued to you: you throwing your head back to laugh, you asking him in a soft undertone if he’s okay, you squeezing his hand when he promises he’s fine. 

You both end up leaving at the same time, and Chan takes his opportunity when he sees it. He’s been waiting too long to let it slip through his fingers, but when he’s face to face with you under the fairy lights in Seungkwan’s hallway, he can’t quite choke words out. He’s rehearsed this – multiple times – but the moment he looks at your expectant eyes, he goes blank.

“Chan?” You laugh a little teasingly at his abrupt silence. “Did you forget what you were going to say?”

“Not – not quite.” He knows what he wants to say. He doesn’t know how to say it. (I’m very nearly in love with you, he thinks hopelessly. The words don’t come out.)

Your eyes flick upward for a second, lingering above you both. “Look,” you say softly. He doesn’t shift his gaze from your face. “Mistletoe.”

And then you kiss him. 

this is for @bitchlessdino as part of cam and em’s a very seventeen christmas secret santa 2024!!!! surprise nana i hope u like it 💗💗 merry christmas to everyone who’s celebrating, and i hope everyone else is having a wonderful holiday/week/life.

thank you to @highvern for making the gift tag banners and letting me use ur actually the best. and thank you @haologram for making me post.

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon

@wondering-out-loud @tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy

@dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[sanakimohara]

[ BOUND BY BLOOD ] - H. H.

master lists <> + CHRISTMAS EVENT: day two (n/a yet)

pairing: Hyunjin x fem! reader

summary: A seductive vampire who has been watching you for centuries finally reveals himself. As Hyunjin pulls you deeper into his world of immortality, the line between love and obsession begins to blur.

date: December 21st 2024

playlist:

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + BLOOD KINK + ORAL + LOTS OF EXPOSITION + MENTIONS OF WITCHCRAFT & PAGAN HOLIDAY + EXTENSIVE PINING

Yule is more than a concession of sacred days ending in immense celebration. You knew of this from a very tender age, of course.

Your mother impressed upon you how vastly more important it was than any other festivity held throughout the year in your small village. A place nestled in the rocky edges of the St. Romanov mountains, just below the everlasting castle at the very top of the harsh scenery. In a dreary land, everyone would be just the same—sulking like the grey, cold clouds that hung high above, even in mid-summer, and bitter like the bark of the evergreen trees and pines occupying the surrounding woods. Many who lived far and near the little ancient plot began to whisper of its strangely happy and content inhabitants centuries before books made of linen and leather were being traded for secrets on the land they lived on.

Some talked of how women resembled eerily beautiful statues on a winter's night. Others told tales of men who never seemed to age past their prime but nearly always perished under terrible circumstances, whether in secret or for all to behold. You were born to a family who pressed truth into these oh-so-beguiled wise tales made up by outsiders. Yet, that was natural within a family littered with witches and warlocks of every kind.

Young and blessed with slow aging and graceful wisdom, your mother and father took it upon themselves to grant you a moderately lavish life within the strangely quaint village. You went without very little, and whatever your kind heart desired was promptly given. Your demure features disarmed many, growing enchanting as you neared the age of two centuries, looking nothing past the age of two bright decades. One might call it luck -especially living in a jagged and whimsical place. But many who lived beyond called it witchcraft at its finest point -the undead's evil doing.

You paid the assumptions no mind. Content with living a life in your studies of the dark arts under the teachings of your nearly pestering and frazzled mother and her less distracted and elated partner -your father. To some extent, he was a patriarch of the town, never fully taking on the title of its Baron and never desiring to when asked. He helped people experiencing poverty, aided people in need, and advised those who did have a hand in village affairs. On the other hand, your mother saw to the population's superstitions and unusual ailments and guarded their shaken resolves with practiced and refined magik. You had undoubtedly become their most prized offering to the masses. A beauty many could behold but could never understand being kept so hidden away at your family estate.

In turn, you were plagued with loneliness that could only be ailed by knowledge of the arts for so long. Years shifted into another half a decade of unbound youth and restrained confidence for you. Thinking of another century in such a state made your heartache and your head spin with sound worry. The terror struck you at family dinner in the dining hall, and you nearly opened your mouth to suggest an alternative to your parents. However, you were halted in a speech by your ever-so-live mother, who'd been unable to stop smiling since you stepped foot into the candlelit room behind your father's usual late arrival.

"I have grand news for you, my dear!" she beamed, and you perked up in your seat in interest. "Mother?...' you cautiously egged her on, sipping from the blackened wine glass set before your plate of half-finished food. She waited to hear you swallow your blackberry wine before glancing at your oddly silent father. "I and your Papa have a gift for you...well, a surprise, to be more specific."

Please, Mother of Darkness, do not let it be another grimoire. I've already filled in four others.

You prayed to the powers that be in a single silent breath, glancing between them as they observed you. "Oh...please do tell me of it. You know how little patience I have for surprises." The sweetest smile crossed your face, pulled tight by subtle anxiety and held there by a need to seem mildly normal about the implications of receiving a new and unknown gift.

Yet, it fell into a quivering line as your mother excitedly spilled her heart out for you to hear.

"We have found you a match, and he is rather eager about it. More than we are if my senses ring true!"

The light wave of shock that gripped you dissipated into relief. A hot flush rushed through d your veins like a flame catching the edge of fresh linen. Any other woman being told of a secure match might feel her heart turned to icey malice, but all you could taste was wild freedom being attained without much fight.

And you couldn't be happier to have it.

Who this match was and why he was so eager to be one with you was another mystery for different times. Now, you wanted a moment to relish in a world to be discovered outside the village you'd known an entire lifetime and mask that joy from the two beings who gave you such power over life as if their announcement hadn't changed a thing in your reeling mind.

With a deep and steadying breath, you replied, "How fortunate. I look forward to beginning our union."

Your mother nodded, sipping wine while your father grumbled a phrase of contentment. She offered you an all-too-tender smile, her bright gaze sparking as you tilted your head in curiosity. "Is there something more you'd like to tell me, Mother?"

She sighed, humming melodically, then set her glass down to speak again, her tone genuinely matter-of-fact.

"You'll be traveling to meet him at his estate within a fortnight."

This wasn't unexpected, yet hearing it aloud stirred a peculiar thrill within you, an undeniable pull toward the unknown that lay waiting.

The fortnight came within a whirlwind of a day. Your belongings were packed and shipped off early at noon, and your father blessed and sealed your treasures an hour before your departure. Your mother sent you off with genuine gifts of goodwill and more excellent fortune, refusing to speak on the mysterious author more than she already had -which only gave you a semblance of a surname from which to paint a picture of him.

Hwang.

It was all you'd know of him until the moon reached its height and your horse-drawn carriage stopped in the gravel walkway in front of his glaringly cold estate. You imagined his features, charm, voice, and sway over those within his power. Sketching his imaginations in a tattered leather-bound grimoire and writing earnest anecdotes of goodwill under each one. You wrote and drew until your hand ached, glad to see the semblance of a large mansion coming into view far across a snow-touched meadow.

The book snapped shut as you refined your focus on the blatantly grand estate. Your mother had called it magnificent when describing where this Hwang hailed from, but she left out the fair detail of how larger-than-life it seemed, with its gardens packed with mere hundreds of people.

A party.

A celebration.

An honoring of Yule.

You had never, ever seen such a large and lavish gathering. Granted, your mother and father never threw one as grand as the one you witnessed now from afar, but the edge of awe was still present as you observed it. People -men, women, the moderately young, and the wise old roamed about.

Some wore masks of gleaming gold, amber, and cherry red. Others wore black veils and cashmere shawls. Everyone in attendance held prestigious looks from afar, dressed in sacred colors starkly contrasting with the pure white snow coating the grounds.

Candles and lanterns were lit to perfection, leaking light into the moonlit night and casting a golden white glow on those who swayed beneath and through them. Shadows danced as many grabbed for waltz partners. A quartet strummed at their instruments and rang their bells into the air. Laughter and speech leaked into the music, piercing the sky.

It was life.

It was passion.

It was beautiful to see.

You ached to join the fun. Think of it constantly, even as the carriage stops at the steps leading straight to the heavy dark oak wood doors carved with the face of Medusa and sealed shut with iron wrought doubles of the letter 'H' leading straight to your new home.

With the help of a kind footman and the relief of a soft gasp, you took tentative steps to the top of the staircase, undeterred by the ice under your heeled boots and the gentle crunch of snow under your every movement. With a step left, the doors creaked open for you, a sudden chill wrapping around you before a steady warmth replaced it. You stopped short, unaffordable of the sudden eeriness, but perplexed to see not a soul standing behind the door.

"Mother of the moon.." you whispered in timid amusement, gazing up at the white sphere gleaming down on your clocked form before allowing its energy to steady your shaken nerves. When your mind could focus again, you bit the inside of your left cheek, slipping into the estate's front doors with a quiet huff, passing by the eyes of Medusa with a solemn smile of thanks.

The doors slammed shut as your feet hit the marble floor inside, loudly clicking its locks with finality as you spared them a final glance before sauntering further into the massive household. The small palace was lit, and not a corner was left cold or void, but not a life in your sight. It seemed as if the tree outside was merely a dreamscape and a phantom of reality within the world you stood in now - a wonderous opener to the spectacle within your suitor's less-than-humble abode. You reached another set of winding staircases. The embroidered carpet gently glistened under an amber-lit chandelier, never seeming to stain your wet footprints and littered with mistletoe, pine, fresh herbs, and trimmed garland. It was neat chaos at its finest, but what took your breath away was the line of blackened roses lining the center. Their thrones were pricked clean off, and their stems meticulously swirled in on themselves and tied off in an alternation of crimson red and deep violet silk ribbons. "How strange..." you thought aloud, pricking one from the warm floor, examining it until its petals were paled compared to the folded letter hidden underneath it.

It simply read in practiced well, done calligraphy,

"My Dearest Love,

The hour is late, and the world outside lies shrouded in slumber, save for me and my kin—ever wakeful, ever longing. I have watched you from the shadows, not with the eyes of a stranger, but with the gaze of a soul tethered to yours by threads spun long before this life. You do not yet know me, but I have known you for an eternity, each passing moment a cruel reminder of my yearning to claim what fate has promised me.

I am writing to you now, my beloved, because our meeting is near. The winter moon will shine brightest on the eve of the year's final breath, casting its silvery veil upon the snow-laden earth. In that sacred hour, I shall come to you. Do not fear the chill in the air or the stillness accompanying my presence. Know that every step I take toward you is born of reverence and an unyielding desire to protect, cherish, and love.

You may wonder why I have chosen you among all others, why I dare to speak of binding our lives together in the sacred vow of marriage. The truth is as eternal as the stars: I did not choose you. Though it beats no longer, my heart has always belonged to you. In your laughter, I hear the echo of joy I have long since forgotten; in your gaze, I see a light that pierces the veil of my darkness. You are the warmth my cold existence craves, the embodiment of all that is pure and eternal.

For centuries, I have wandered through this world, untouched by its beauty and unmoved by its offerings. Yet, the barren void within me stirred from the moment I beheld you, even from afar. My soul cursed as it is, recognized in you its redemption—a love that transcends time, a light strong enough to shatter even the deepest shadows.

I write this letter not to frighten you but to offer you a choice. When we meet, you will see me as I truly am. My nature, my curse—it is not one I would impose upon you without consent. But if your heart, as I suspect, already beats in harmony with mine, I ask for your hand, trust, and love. Together, we will defy the passage of time, weaving a tapestry of eternity that no force can unravel.

Await me on the night of our destined meeting. Do not despair the hour, for it shall mark the beginning of a love that poets and dreamers could only hope to capture. I shall kneel before you, not as a creature of the night, but as a man who has waited lifetimes to call you his own.

Until then, my love, guard your heart, for it is already mine. And know that no force on this earth, nor in the heavens above, could keep me from you.

Yours eternally,

Hyunjin..."

A weight lingered over your shoulders as his name slipped past your lips like pure honey. As if it were planned to happen, and for one explicable reason or another, he had pined for it to be that way on this very night. You pieced things together in the moment it took you to realize them. Every night since your 118th risi, you'd felt a presence -not nearly a calling- but something tethered to your existence. Had that been him for all these years? Watching over you in the smallest of moments. Moving when you moved. Listening when you spoke. Caring when it seemed no one else could. Being there when you felt further trapped in an unintentional isolation.

Were the sharp and bloodborne eyes trailing every move in glimpses of mirrors.?Was he the lurking shadow hovering above your own in the light of a single candle? Was he the one leaving gifts of your desire at the foot of your bed? Each one left with no note or card of recognition but instead wrapped neatly and meant for you to find and enjoy. Wasthee soft chill of breath you felt through the coldest nights? Twinged with a peculiar warmth and steadily streaming against the crook of your neck and behind the shell of your ear.

You thought of the possibilities, fueled by a deep curiosity and security, as you followed the trail of roses left along the ststastaircathrough staircase-through rooTandyandy stopped at a particular door on the second floor, previously leading through the tre right-wing amenities before the abr.aWithhith one big push of both your hands, you revealed what lay within the last unlocked room.

A man, dressed in fine clothing with a more captivating charmed beauty to match, stood before you in a moment of tensed admiration.

He seemed to hold in a breath, lips pressed into a slow-growing smile of recognition as his eyes scanned you in familiarity. Your heart thumped twice its normal speed as he did, and your feet shifted closer to each other as his gaze halted on your flushing face. "He-Hello..." you muttered, unsure what else to say and completely startled to see another person standing in the emptied estate.

Hyunjin did not hold your lack of recognition and frazzled greeting against you; he accepted them. I expect much worse, and he was glad those assumptions did not come to fruition upon your timely arrival.

He found the words to speak and the will to be heard when you took a half-nervous step back, shuffling closer to the doorway in a plain attempt to close it shut if prompted to. "You're quite alright. I've been waiting for you for some time now, so I would like you to stay even if it's for a moment..."

The cadence of his words and the gentle tone of his voice sounded the same as the whisper within your most common dreams. It was healing, charming, sweet, and meant to cause delirium to anyone who heard it without warning. You unconsciously paired it with the letter you'd found. Gripping it in your right hands, your mind collected subtle connections.

This had to be him.

Your allusive and eager suitor?...

"Hwang...Hyunjin..."

"That is my full name, yes..." he jested a bit, treading carefully through your observation of him. However, when your stare found him again, you seemed neither displeased nor perplexed.

"Are you to be my match, then? " you asked, hoping his answer would satisfy your growing uncertainties.

He nodded, nibbling at his lush bottom lip for a split second of tension relief. Then, you noticed his edged canines glinting in the soft light filling the room. Your heart jumped, but your breath slowed at the minuscule sight.

You'd gotten yourself a walking undead of your own, it seems.

Hyunjin's quick eyes caught yours wondering towards his mouth, fixated on the slip-upphe'ddd ma unconsciously but nowhere near frightened or frazzled by the reveal. It eased his rare nerves and allowed him to speak more freely as you inched further into the room to get a closer look at him. "I know stepping into this new life may be very odd to you now, but as I explained in the letter-"

"I've read it twice since my arrival..." you confess in one uttered breath, unable to keep smiling softly at him, "You're a lovely admirer and a gifted writer by all means..." You paused, unsure what to call him and afraid you'd begun to ramble, seeing his head lower at your words. However, Hyunjin flashed a charmed grin your way after half a moment. His pale cheeks flushed a tinge of rouge you thought was a trick of the light. How could someone so confident in their presence be so easily flustered? The answer was beyond you, but it was a question you cherished watching him watch you from across the room.

His smile fell to a slight smirk, eyes cutting to the side for a moment before he spoke again, "You are one charming doll... do you know that?" He chuckled, and you shrugged, eyeing him as he wandered closer with steady strides. "I've been told otherwise..." you confess in a whisper, accepting bated breath as he flows above the top of your head.

A pull surged in your chest, urging you forward into his immobile warmth and drawing your head up at an angle so his face remained inches from your own. Hyunjin stared back, eyes downcast in jaded concern as you hid a coy smile. "Wel, my love, they don't know you as I do."

He spoke of your intentional grace and earned your trust. He is unafraid to let you witness the flicker of vulnerability behind his maroon irises.

It was then that you knew what he thought of you, how he felt, with only your eyes to capture him.

A life to live in the eternity he found himself in.

One year came and went in the Hwang estate; in that time, you'd grown to love hearing that surname replace your own. Hyunjin was far more than a dashing husband and far better than any other living man you had encounteredHisis obsession with you was infinite and dedicated. It showed in every little thing he did for you and was present in every intimate interaction you had with him - even if he took each one no further than a heated kiss and a passing touch of his cold hands over your warmer flesh.

There were times it drove you mad.

His withholding of passion in fear of harming you during such acts was maddening, to say the very least. Sleeping with him had begun to be the only thing you could think of. You are noo longer able to keep such thoughts within the confines of your still-separated rooms during the dead of night and are frazzled by the visceral need to feel him take you.

He knew of your struggles but never acknowledged them. Hell-bent on sticking to his version of affection for as long as possible and undeterred by your subtle begging far longer than you had expected him to be.

That is until the very night you met him came around again.

Sweat shined your skin from the heat of the broiling water you sank into only moments ago. Herbs, spices sprinkled, and citrus shreds floated to the top of the scented bath. It was a relief to feel each component working into your tired body and slowly bringing life back into it as moments of solace trickled into a calm, quiet passage.

Finally, you could rest and not answer another question about decorations, food to serve partygoers of the evening, or what musical set to be played throughout the night. Taking on the task of planning for the Hwang household Yule was tedious and meticulous. Every detail was meant to be perfect, just as you had seen upon your arrival a year prior, but against Hyunjin's well-meant wishes, you took on the assignment with vigor for perfection.

It was overwhelming in all aspects, but you'd done it to the best of your ability, and now you wanted nothing more than to relax before the celebration began. The guests slowly showed themselves.

Your eyelids lowered, fully closing as the hot water sank deeper into your skin—the smell of fresfragranceses swept under your nose in gentle wafts. For a while,nt the world went utterly sti, ll, and you could hear the wind and snow softly blowing outside; your lonely peace was dissolved as a tender kiss was placed at the of your head by familiar lips.

"My love..." Hyunjin greeted you humbly, and you returned the sentiment by peeking your eyes at him. "My prince..."

He smiled at the neverending nickname you'd decided long ago to give him. You held his lingering gaze, tracing the lift of his lips as he leaned in to place a meaningful kiss against your lips. Your hands floated from the water, gently cupping his face as his lips pressed into yours. They were tinted with red wine and the lingering taste of iron blood, but you paid the bitterness no mind, delving for something more profound as he trailed a hand through your damp hair and brushed back the strands sticking to your flushed cheeks.

A fire stirred in your stomach, spiraling as the swipe of his tongue over your own melted the taste of him into your senses. Hyunjin pressed to shift backward, understanding the intensity of your exchange, but had no room to do so as your freshly manicured nails gently dug into the skin of his unblemished face. He stayed still, falling into a pattern of returning slow and wet kisses with you in the quiet of the large washroom. You hummed at his intentional sweetness to please you, smiling as he tilted your head back to rest on his thigh, your right hand cupping your chin firmly as his left raked through your hair and massaged the roots at your scalp. A trickle of drool seeped past your lips, tainted with blood a moment later, as he bit down on your inner lower lip with the tip of a fang. You whined softly as the sudden and short infliction of pain pleasured that he took joy in marking you in such a discreet place and was not timid about savoring the reward of your blood on his tongue, but the mix of elation didn't last long. Hyunjin snapped away from your lips, pressing loving kisses to them as you frowned and whimpered from the loss of connection. "Please do not torture me..." you huffed, legs closing instinctively to put pressure on the throbbing heat between them.

“Don’t…do this to me, “ you repeat yourself, stirring into a fever as his touch on your jaw slid to cup and caress the side of your face as if to lull you back to sanity.

He failed, a rare thing to happen, but something he couldn’t help as you stared up at him with the most unforgiving and pleading stare. “Please…” you utter to him, bottom lip catching between your teeth as his eyes settle across your body in a languid dance. His gaze stops at your chest -barely hidden in the cream-filled water, and you’re tempted to slip out of the bath and let him have a full view if it’ll coax him to give what you so desperately want from him.

Hyunjin needs no further persuasion than a flicker of sadness and disappointment in your eyes. You’re prepared to handle your growing frustration of heat alone and hope it will be done by the time guests arrive, but a simple phrase from him shatters your ideas of doing so.

“You’ve waited long and well enough.”

The sound of praise in his tone has you turning in the water to face him like an excited mutt being given a treat. Your smile returns, and your hands fall to rest on his thigh. “You won’t back down from me?…” You ask out of fear he will, knowing his quick change of mind could be fickle and turned again if you weren’t careful with your intent. Hyunjin stifled a chuckle, unbothered by your eagerness and thrilled to see you smiling at him brightly again.

That generous lift of your lips always made his cock twitch to life no matter when, where, or why it happened.

It was such a curse to him that even now, he failed to think straight enough as you rose a bit more from Luke's warm water to press a slow kiss to his parted lips. The cherry stain on your lips seeped onto his tongue, your tongue slow and delicate against his, steadily licking into his mouth a sweet confidence. He swallowed your noises, smothering them with nips and licks before easing your mouth open for a singular line of his spit to slide down your tongue. You purred at the feeling, sinking into the water a bit as he stood up and spat straight into your throat as if he owned it.

Because he did…and you adored him for it.

“Come with me…” Hyunjin grunted against your ear, not caring about the mess made, as he wrapped a strengthened arm around your waist to pull you from the cold bathwater. You helped lousy in excitement as he did, completely fine with being tossed over his shoulder like a sack of packed sugar cane. “I wasn’t finished bathing-!” You start to scold him despite not having the heart or right mind to mean anything by it, but a tender prick of his fangs to the flesh of your thighs startles you into a fit of giggles.

“And I don’t care anymore, my love…”

“Ca…c…can’t…” you choked on your words, falling to pieces as Hyunjin laid his head between your legs, hair sheened with sweat as your fingers traveled through and gripped every strand it touched tight. “Third time a charm,” he muttered, all too focused on the task in front of him and unbothered by your shaking thighs and rolling hips. “N-no..” you protested in half-sought agony, unsure if he’d even heard you when he earned another shout of his name with a slow and deliberate swipe of his tongue pressed flat to your entrance. He let the wet muscle rest there for a second, nudging it into your creamy walls inch by inch until you tugged at his hair and groaned in pleasurable despair at the feeling.

He added to the pattern, tracing the inner folds of your cunt and circling your bundle of nerves in repetitive motions. You quivered every time, leaking cum onto the fresh linen, and overstimulated in every sense you had left.

Hyunjin groaned loudly, with a collared shirt falling from his broad shoulders and your legs lazily hanging over them. A tug in your hips brought your scented body an inch closer to his face before he buried himself in your cunt again. Licking, searching, and finding exactly what he wanted. You squirmed and tossed above him, gripping at anything soft and mailable to have a steadying grip, but you couldn’t sit still or stay calm. Hyunjin wouldn’t have it any other way, sinking his fangs into your plush thighs and the soft skin just above your left knee to keep you on edge.

“N-ngh ugh….ah! Ah! Hy-Hyunjin…” you called for his attention, on the of unraveling, feeling his lips wrap around and suckle on your clit generously before his tongue went right back to exploring your insides in a practiced dance. He refused to settle down, looking up at you through fallen strands of dark and damp hair and devouring you with intent as your moans climbed to new octave before a scream tore from your throat at a final flick of his skilled tongue.

It nearly hurt how fast and how intensely he’d thrown you over the edge. A third instance is not more straightforward than the first two; a fourth is meant to top it all off immediately. You panted, feeling wild and shaken but unable to care as a buzzing heat flooded through your veins and leaked onto the sheets in arousal. It stained the soft fabric, your inner thighs -painting the darkened marks he’d left and smearing the trickles of blood he’d caused with small bites, and coated the bottom half of his face as he raised to hover above you.

You caught him in a delirious kiss, too tired to sit up and lock him in your arms but glad he felt no desire for you to do it. Hyunjin caved into you, letting your hands wander over his skin, across his shoulders, down his back, around his waist, and stopping right where his heart should beat in his toned chest.

There wasn’t a throb of life left in him, and you trusted that he saw yours as valuable enough to change.

One day…but not yet…

He answered your lingering question without a word, peppering the corner of your upturned lips with gentle kisses and soft sighs you returned. Your legs remained parted, allowing his free hand to lazily touch and spread your slick along the expanse of your cunt. “Such a pretty little flower for me…so sweet…and so,” he trailed off, nudging your head to the side to sink his teeth into your heated neck, drawing blood and a pleased moan from you as he took slow sips of your blood.

“Soft…” he finished.

His fingers plunged deep into your core, stretching the gummy walls within in slender but tasteful thrusts. You shook from the contrasting actions he was committing. Awed at how full he made you feel despite draining you in the same breath.

Was this the true love of an undead man?

Does the obsession of another once alive come back to life?

You hadn’t the slightest clue to answer both inquires, fixated on watching his fingers pump into your soaked entrance as your head spinning from the lack of blood beginning to take effect. Hyunjin refrained from sucking you dry, driven mad by the taste of you no matter how he got it, but aware of your limits as part of the living. Still, he detached from your neck with a soft and crisp sound, focused on pulling another climax from you.

You were on the verge of another, lashes fluttering as the syllables of his name faded into breathy gasps as your high tiptoed closer, but the slow drag of his fingers from your cunt slowed it to a standstill. “No..!” You yelp in disbelief, ready to shed tears if this was his way of putting a stop to your feigning for him, but your disappointment was short-lived and replaced with pleasant surprise as he shifted to kneel on the soiled sheets between your spread legs.

You watched in particular excitement as he stared you down, rolling his neck once to release tension in it, and licked the remaining droplets of your blood from the corner of his lips while reaching to undo the confines of his trousers. He said nothing as you marveled at the sight of his cock. Your face flushed a bit as he brought it into your view with his large hand wrapped around its inches more considerable length. You refused to speak a word, having imagined the sight of his cock more than once before, but speechless at its true nature being revealed.

Thick, full of stock, and neatly groomed.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of it -merely glancing up at Hyunjin in awe when he leaned forward to press the length of it against your sensitive folds, but shifting your gaze right back to it as he passed over your folds.

“Oh!…mmm..” you shuddered into a gasp and fell into a moan at the sensation. Your insides flipped and twisted, eager to know if his cock could reach new places you’d never forget. Hyunjin clicked his tongue, sparing a glance downward between your bodies before lowering his head to rest against yours, hips set back slightly to prod the tip of his length to your aching entrance. You whined, prepared for the stretch but intolerant of his ever-waning patience. “We’ll miss our first guests if we continue like this…” He hummed, sensing approaching carriages and steeds from afar in the low blizzard rousing the night air. You cup his face, eyes set on his as your lips curl into a coy smile. “Let them wait…Let them wonder where we are the whole night if that’s what must be done..”

He raised a brow, licking his lips while his cock inched into your untouched entrance, watching the fall of your smile into a small ‘o’ shape as he did so. “Your wish is my command, Lady Hwang..”

A/N: I’m sick so this is late but it’s a double feature (Changbin is next)

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[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

🗣️ Credits to Creator 💜

[oldsoul007]

the last time

joel miller x reader

summary: they knew it could happen

The world had narrowed down to the two of us.

Joel’s chest heaved as he helped me stumble through the crumbling streets, both of us drenched in sweat and dust. The Clickers had almost caught us. We had barely managed to get out of the warehouse alive, and the sky was now darkening, thick with the remnants of the day’s heat.

Every time Joel glanced at her, the knot in his stomach tightened. Something wasn’t right. He’d seen her fight off exhaustion more times than he could count, but today, she was different. Her steps were slower, unsteady. Her breath was ragged, a little too sharp for comfort.

“Y/n,” he muttered, his voice low but filled with concern. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. I kept my eyes forward, her hand still gripping his but with less strength than usual. The space between us felt heavier with each step.

Then he saw it.

I had raised my arm, reaching out for support as we turned a corner, and there—just below my jacket sleeve—was the unmistakable, jagged bite. Blood, still dark and wet, stained the fabric.

Joel’s heart stopped. For a split second, everything around us ceased to exist—the ruined city, the setting sun, the bitter chill creeping in. All that mattered was the blood on my arm. The blood that had never, ever been part of our plan.

“No,” Joel rasped, his voice cracking like old wood. He jerked me around to face him, his hands shaking as they gripped my shoulders. His gaze locked on the mark. The bite.

“I—” I tried to speak, but my throat caught. The words wouldn’t come.

“You—” Joel took a step back, his hands falling away from me as if I had burned him. His heart thundered in his chest. He looked from the mark on my arm to my face, the realization sinking in like cold water. “How?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in, trying to steady myself. But when I looked back at him, there was no hiding the truth. No pretending.

“It happened during the fight,” I said softly, my voice cracking. “I didn’t… I didn’t even feel it at first. We were so damn close to getting away—”

Joel shook his head, his breath coming in shallow bursts. “You didn’t tell me. You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to—” I cut herself off, glancing down at the ground. I was trying to hold it together, but I knew Joel could see the exhaustion in me, the weight of it. I was breaking, just like he was.

“I need you, y/n.” The words burst out of him before he could stop them. His voice broke, raw and desperate, like something inside him had cracked. “We’ve already lost everything. I can’t lose you, too.”

My eyes filled with tears, but I blinked them away, trying to stay strong. I reached for him then, my hands trembling as I touched his face—gently, like I was afraid to shatter him, afraid to shatter myself.

“You already have,” I whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

Joel’s chest tightened, and his mind couldn’t process what she was saying. His breath came in shallow gasps.

“No,” he said, shaking his head violently, as if he could fight the reality away. “I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you.” His eyes burned with unshed tears, and his voice came out hoarse, ragged. “Not after Sarah.”

The mention of Sarah felt like a punch to the gut. It always did. Every time.

I flinched, the ghost of Sarah’s name hanging between us. He knew it was unfair to say her name, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was the only comparison he had left. The only thing that explained the magnitude of what was happening to them.

The loss was too big.

I shook my head, a slight smile breaking through my tear-streaked face, but it was bitter and broken. “I know. I know.” My voice cracked again, and I dropped my hand from his face, letting it fall to my side. “But I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t how it ends for us, Joel. We knew this could happen. We knew.”

Joel’s whole body trembled. “No. We’ve made it this far. We’ve survived the worst, y/n. Please.”

I backed away from him then, taking a hesitant step back, like I was afraid that if I stayed too close, the weight of it all would crush us both.

“Joel,” I said quietly, the pain in my voice more than he could stand. “You are—. You’re the only thing left, the only thing I have.” My voice faltered. “But this… I’m not gonna make it, and I can’t ask you to watch me change.”

Her words struck him like a blow. His heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest. He reached for me again, but I stepped further away.

“I won’t let you do that,” he pleaded, his voice breaking as he reached for me one more time. “I won’t let you turn. We’ll find a way. There’s always a way.”

But I looked at him then, my eyes full of love and something else—something darker, like I knew the truth even though neither of us wanted to say it.

“I’m already gone, Joel,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “There’s nothing left to save.”

The words shattered him.

I wasn’t talking about the infection, not really. I was talking about the part of me that had fought for so long, the part of me that had fought with him, for him, after everything they had lost. I was talking about the end of something we’d both held onto for so long—an end we had both feared, but never truly acknowledged until now.

And in that moment, as the world seemed to press in on them, Joel understood. The pain in his chest, the ache of losing someone again, was a familiar feeling—a feeling he had buried so deep after Sarah. But it had come back. And it was here to stay.

I had always been a fighter. We both had. But this? This was something neither of us could fight. Not anymore.

Joel stepped forward again, slowly this time, his heart pounding in his chest, but when I didn’t pull away, he reached out for me, cupping my face in his hands. I closed my eyes, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

He kissed me then—slow, desperate, as if trying to burn me into his soul, trying to make this last moment stretch into infinity. I kissed him back, my hands gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.

When we pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his, breathing raggedly, our faces close enough to feel each other’s tears.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words choking him. He couldn’t say it enough, not while there was still time.

“I love you so much,” I murmured, my voice soft and fragile. “But I’m not the one you need to save, Joel. Not anymore.”

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, as we both understood what was coming. What we had left was each other—and that wasn’t enough to stop what was inevitable.

I pulled away then, not to escape, but because I knew I had to.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, the words a whisper in the cold evening air.

Joel could barely breathe, his heart shattering in his chest as he watched me turn away from him, each step breaking him just a little more.

And as she walked into the darkness, leaving him behind, all he could do was stand there, watching, knowing this would be the last time he would ever see her—his y/n.

[adoremattsturns]

Stranger - C.S.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

summary: it has been 4 months since you and chris broke up. you one day bump into each other at a party. sparks fly and things feel… different. was it you or him who changed?

warnings: SMUT, dom!chris, fem!reader, swearing, kissing, p in v, unprotected sex (please dont do this )

(p.s. i’ve never written smut before so please bear with me 😭)

you didn’t care for chris anymore. at least you thought you didn’t. you were having so much fun with your friends this saturday night. your black strapless mini dress riding up every now and then but you didn’t care. all that mattered was you and how much fun you were having.

you walked down the hallway when you saw nick. you guys were still close even after you and chris. but, if nick was here chris had to be here as well which made your stomach churn for some unknown reasons. you gave nick a hug and sprinted to the rest room to message your friend claire.

you: is chris anywhere out there????

claire: he’s in line for the bathroom

shit. you thought before texting her again

you: where in line…?

claire: up next….🧍‍♀️

“are you fucking kidding me” you mumbled, putting your phone away and fixing yourself in the mirror before opening the restroom door.

anytime you and chris were ever at the same function, gathering, or any public event that involved each other you guys acted like strangers. seemed like two people with no history, no connections, nothing. appearing from the mist and disappearing.

chris had no idea you were here until he saw claire staring at him and then typing on your phone. you had to be there somewhere. you both made eye contact when you opened the door. you tried walking away before he stopped you and whispered in your ear. “meet me here in 10 once this line clears up yeah?” you rolled your eyes “like hell i would.” “y’know you wan’ to.” “fuck you christopher.” you said before walking away. you hated him with all of your being. he might’ve ended it since he “cheated” on you but the truth is he kind of missed you. he never cheated but in the heat of the moment he went along with that stupid story. since that’s what you wanted to believe instead of him.

he still hated you as well. not being able to stand your stupid pretty face. he wanted to get at you. so thats what made him say to meet him in the restroom.

10 minutes later

chris: i dont have all day pretty girl hurry tf up

you: i already told you no fuck off

chris: get over here or im dragging your ass to me

you: whatever

you agreed to meet him at the bathroom. you had no idea why you did it but it felt right to accept.

you knocked on the door 5 times, it unlocked and opened 3 seconds later. chris had his black hoodie on which hid his wavy brown hair. he dragged you into the bathroom by the arm and proceeded to gently push you against the door once he closed it.

he eyed you up and down which made your cheeks tint a bright pink. “why- what do you want?” you stumbled feeling scared. “i just wanna get you to realize that i didn’t cheat” he grumbled getting closer to you.

your breath hitched, as his lips grazed your ear “i don’t get why the fuck you believed that stupid idiot. i didn’t cheat and you know it. but since you wanna play coy i can show you i didn’t in a different way” “w-what? no your not doing anything to me” “y’know you wan’ to tho”. you rolled your eyes. you did. he was the only person who knew what you liked and wanted and it wasn’t fun. he gently grabbed the side of your neck and pressed his lips to yours, which you leaned into.

things progressed which lead to you sitting on top of the sink counter. “please chris-” you whined “just tell me what ya want ma, i know you can”. “i need you please-” you whined again.

with that he grabbed you and placed you on your feet, flipping you over by the hips and pulled your ass up, bunching up your dress at your hips. he undid his belt and took of his black jeans and boxers. he pulled down your black lacy panties and proceeded to slap your ass which made you yelp. “i’ve always said you got a nice ass on you ma.” he muttered as he pumped himself with his free hand.

chris rubbed his tip against your folds before slowly pushing in, going in fully to let you bottom out. “mmmpf chris fuck-” you moaned feeling full. “so fuckin’ tight pretty girl”

he began to thrust in and out of you, his eyes stared at you through the mirror “you like this shit huh?” your eyes rolled back but you nodded. “i need words and i need you to look at me sweetheart.”

you moaned and squirmed as chris wraps his arm around your waist and dips his hand down to your clit. “mm, so good f’me fuck-” he praised, leaning down to kiss your neck and shoulders

“c-chris! fuck!-” you moaned, which made him slap your ass. “sweetheart you need to be quiet, this is a party not your house” he growled. he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your which made you arch your back, his tip kissing your cervix. “chris i cant ima-” you squealed, clenching around him. “you wanna cum ma? go ahead baby, wanna hear you scream it.” “thank you- chris! fuck oh my go-” you moaned loudly.

“your okay sweetheart i gotcha don’ worry.” he praised as you squeezed him, making him cum as well. stuffing you full.

he pulled out and cleaned himself up. sitting you on the cold marble of the bathroom counter and cleaning you up with wipes that were under the sink…you whined at the cold feeling “shh, i know pretty girl its okay… its all gonna be over in just a little okay?” “mhm..” you muttered, holding onto his shoulders. “you okay?” he asked kissing your cheek. “y-yeah….” you stuttered. “good. well i guess this is goodbye.” “wha-? what do you mean?” “you thought i was staying?? it was your decision to believe someone else before asking me and talking with me. so now im doing that to you. just in… different senses obviously.” he chuckled, before kissing your cheek “bye-bye pretty girl. love ya.” he said before leaving and closing the door to the bathroom.

great. back to strangers.

hiiii! thank you sooo much for all the follows n likes i literally love you guyssss. this is my first time writing smut so i hope it was good. any tips and help would be appreciated than you sooo much i love youuuu! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[whereserpentswalk]

The genetic engineer on the spaceship you work on tried to create a species of insectoid creatures to eat any litter in the ship hallways. Nobody knows why but they didn't work, the result was these blue crab like things that could barely see what they were doing who slowly walked across the floor. They didn't do their job well at all, they could barely tell where garbage was so they could neither clean the floors nor keep themselves fed.

The company expected the crab things to die on their own. Slowly letting them wander until they all died out from starvation. But for some reason, people fed them. They must have thought they were cute, and truth be told, even the most exhausted people at work didn't want to watch these little creatures die. So they stayed and reproduced.

And it was nice seeing them around, on a relatively grim work ship the crab things gave it a bit more color and joy. Tired office workers who barely slept due to crunch, and didn't remember when they last saw a blue sky or living plant, had their day brightened ever so slightly when they saw a crab thing crawling through the endless white halls of the ship. Traders who stopped by the ship, who spent their lives wandering from station to station and planet to planet became happy seeing that this station was unquie with these strange creatures on it, and it gave them a happy story to tell. And the janitorial staff (or just anyone who needed to throw something out) would give the crab things their garbage to eat to keep them alive, and because it was nice getting to feed a little animal, especially on a station that didn't allow cats or dogs.

At some point somebody realized it was very easy to put something on the crab things heads and they wouldn't slide off. So people made little hats for them. Useally just personal hats. But the ship would come together to make special hats for them at different times, little Santa hats for Christmas, little sparkling top hats for new years, and little devil horns and pumpkin tops for Halloween. And on the anniversary of the crab things arrival everyone gave them little birthday hats. Technically you weren't allowed to have something like miniature hats on the ship unless they were personal items, but nobody had the need to take them off the crabs, not even the worst of the wannabe space marines in the security staff.

The crab things became like a ship mascot. Your ships teams in video game tournaments all renamed themselves some variation of the crab things. People got custom shirts or hats or dolls of them. It became part of the stations culture to like them, to like the little joy that they give. If someone came to the ship and insulted them they weren't welcome. The crab things did so little but they were your own, all of your own.

About two years into the crab thing's existence the company that owns your ship decided to wipe the crab things out. They said they were a distraction, or perhaps a health hazard (as if there weren't far worse hazards almost everywhere you went on the ship). They never gave a reason why, they just said they'll poison them, and that anyone feeding them would have their pay docked. And that was it. You think it wasn't even that they were a distraction, it was just that the crab things belonged to the people of the ship, and not the people who own the ship, and the type of people who own ships don't like that.

Slowly you watched them get less energetic day by day, and watched their blue shells turn grey, until all that were left were corpses. Everyone morned, they did so little, but everyone mourned so much. There were funerals and graffiti done in commemoration, and prays to countless gods all crying for the same loss, all kinds of mourning avoiding the watchful eye of security. They tried to make them clean the graffiti but every janitor on the station said that they couldn't, made the excuses they needed to. Mention it to anyone working on the ship now and they'll still be upset over it all.

It's hard adjusting to life without the crabs. Which is silly, they didn't do much. But they gave a few small joys on hard days, living without them, it's like if they took away the thank yous and your welcomes from mundane exchanges. The white halls of the ship feel so much more empty and lonely and lifeless with them gone. More then they ever had before.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi bestie!! I have an idea for Seb. Your his best friend (almost brother like but not quite)

So y/n is over at his home in LA during a Christmas party and is wearing something that gets him turned on and he drags you away from the party and tells you how he loves you and you two fuck....hehe

Steamy Christmas Party » Sebastian Stan

Pairings: Best Friend!Sebastian Stan x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Sebastian can’t keep his eyes off of you when you wear a new dress to a Christmas party, which leads to yours and his own steamy festivities.

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (18+), best friends to lovers, sweet/dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, praise kink, Sebastian speaking Romanian, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @cevansbaby-dove ❤️💚

A/N #2: I used Google translate for the Romanian translations. My apologies if I got anything wrong.

Translations: Dragă: sweetheart |Te iubesu: I love you | Ești atât de frumoasă, prințesă: You’re so beautiful, princess

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

Divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Sebastian’s eyes were on you the second you walked in the door. You were wearing a red dress. It happened to be backless, which is part of the reason why his eyes were on you. He bit his bottom lip the more he looked at you. Not in a creepy way. In an admirable way. He couldn’t help but notice your dress was hugging your curves in the most perfect way.

His mind began to wander… he wanted to get you alone. He just needed to find an appropriate way to do it. He needs you all to himself.

You were talking to someone when you felt a pair of familiar eyes on you. You glanced over the person’s shoulder to see Sebastian looking at you. You gave him a smile before excusing yourself from the conversation to go to the kitchen to get something to drink. Like if it were on cue, Sebastian did the same.

Sebastian walked in the kitchen at the same time you were refilling your drink. He approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. You hummed softly, leaning into his warm touch.

“You know how to drive a man crazy, you know that?” Sebastian mutters softly.

“There’s more than one man here, Seb. Care to be specific?” You say innocently.

“You damn well know which man I’m exactly talking about, dragă.” He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You and Sebastian have been best friends for a few years. Yours and his has always been playful and sometimes flirty. Yours two are so close that people think you two are dating or hooking up. It’s been rumored many times. Truth be told, Sebastian is in love with you. Little does he know that you’re in love with him too.

“You wore this dress to get me going, didn’t you, dragă?” He says, lightly rubbing a finger down your back.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You teased seductively, pressing your ass against his bulge, making him groan softly.

Sebastian spun you around so you were facing him. His blue eyes are now clouded with lust. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Wanna go to my room?” Sebastian asks in a whisper.

“Everyone will see us.” You say shyly.

“They already think we’re fucking. We might as well make that rumor true.” He says with a smirk.

You bit your bottom lip at the thought.

“Take me.” You whispered seductively.

Sebastian grabs your hand and lead you to his bedroom. Surprisingly, no one noticed you two go to his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed and locked, Sebastian pinned you against it, kissing you heatedly. You moaned against his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He breathes.

“Me too.” You say.

Sebastian moved the straps of your dress off of your shoulders as he kissed your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You could feel his beard scratching against your skin. It’s a feeling you love very much. You moaned softly.

Sebastian took your dress off, exposing your breasts to him. He groans softly when he seen the panties you’re wearing. Red lace. It made him want you even more.

“You really do know how to drive a man crazy.” Sebastian says.

You giggled softly and bit your bottom lip. You stared up at him as you took off your heels. You then began to unbutton his shirt. You rubbed your hands against his chest to his shoulders, pushing his button up shirt off of him, letting it fall to the floor.

Sebastian picked you up and carried you to his bed, laying you down gently. He took his pants off before getting on top of you, hovering over you. He leaned down and kissed you with hunger. He then moved his lips down to your neck and collarbones, kissing your skin softly.

“I love you.” Sebastian murmurs softly.

“Say it to me in Romanian.” You said, running your fingers through his hair.

“Te iubesc.” He repeats in Romanian.

“Te iubesc.” You whispered.

You two weren’t sure if it was the heat of the moment or if that’s how each other feels.

Sebastian rubbed his hands against your sides and down to the waistband of your panties. He rubbed his thumbs along the lace material for a moment before looking at you for permission. You gave him permission by lifting your hips. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and took them off of you and threw them somewhere in his room.

He spread your legs, softly caressing your thighs. One of his hands move towards your pussy. His fingers felt how wet you are for him before blindly feeling for your clit. He found it with ease and began rubbing it. You bucked your hips against his hand, wanting more.

“Fuck me please!” You begged desperately, whining softly.

Sebastian kissed you softly before taking his boxers off and settling himself between your legs. You sat up on your elbows, biting your bottom lip at the sight of his cock.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” You playfully teased.

Sebastian softly chuckles at your little playful comment. He lined his cock at your pussy, rubbing it in your slick to get it wet before lining it at your entrance. He slowly slid his cock in your pussy. Your mouth fell open and a soft moan left your lips as you watched his cock slide in your pussy.

Sebastian, being the gentleman he is, gave you a moment to adjust to his size. You laid your back against the bed and nodded. He started a slowly and loving pace just to get a feel of it for a moment before speeding up his thrusts.

“Oh my god!” You moaned.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back. Your hands held onto his strong shoulders, your nails digging in his skin. One of Sebastian’s hands held onto your waist while the other one found its way to your breasts. He held onto one of them for a few seconds before rubbing his thumb over your nipple.

“This feels amazing!” You moaned.

“Yea.” Sebastian agrees, nodding his head.

Your moans I’d like music to Sebastian’s ears. His cock was hitting all of the right spots. Your nails left red line scratch marks on his shoulders. Sebastian rubbed his hands against your skin, loving how soft it is.

“Ești atât de frumoasă, prințesă.” Sebastian says softly.

“What’s that mean?” You asked.

“I called you beautiful, princess.” He says in English.

You know some Romanian from Sebastian teaching you, but you didn’t know what that meant until he told you. You were only focused on one thing at the moment and that’s Sebastian. You’re the only thing he’s focused on as well.

“We should’ve done this sooner!” You moaned.

“I know right.” He agrees.

You arched your back in pleasure. Your beasts were closer to him that he could mark them up and kiss them, which he did. Your hands found their way to his back, digging your nails in his skin.

“Fuck…” Sebastian moans against your skin. “I love you, dragă.” He softly says again.

“I love you too, Seb.” You murmured softly.

You tilted your head back and your eyes fluttered shut. You felt Sebastian’s hand on the back of your head, gently moving your head back up so you were looking at him.

“Eyes on me, dragă.” He said.

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. Your eyes never left his for a second. Only when his cock hit that one spot inside of you, making your eyes flutter shut for a second.

“Oh yes!” You moaned. “Right there!” You tell him. “Please don’t stop!” You moaned.

Your moans urged him on. He sped up his thrusts more. Your nails left red line scratch marks on his back.

“You feel so good.” He moans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, nipping on his skin to mark him up. One of Sebastian’s hands moved down to your clit, rubbing it in circles. Your hip jolted against his at the feeling.

“Oh god, yes, Seb!” You moaned.

Sebastian smirks to himself, loving the sound of you moaning his name. He rubbed your clit faster, wanting to hear you moan his name over and over again.

“Moan my name again. I want to hear it.” Sebastian says.

“You’re making me feel so good, Sebastian!” You moaned.

Sebastian kissed you after you said that, needing his lips on yours. The kiss was a mix of hunger and passion with a bit of sloppiness. One of your hands moved to the back of his head, carding your fingers through his soft hair as you two made out.

Your orgasm built up the more he rubbed your clit as he fucked you. His orgasm was building up as well. Like the gentleman Sebastian is, wanted you to cum first, focusing on your pleasure.

“I can feel you getting close. You gonna cum?” Sebastian says against your lips.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned, tilting your head back.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, dragă.” He says.

It didn’t take long after he said that for you to fall over the edge. Your legs trembled a little bit as you came. Sebastian gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm, which wasn’t too far behind yours. He came inside of you after a few more thrusts before slowing down the pace of his thrusts and pulled out of you.

Sebastian laid down next to you and covered the two of you up with a blanket. You two laid there panting and staring up at the ceiling with grins on your faces.

“That was fucking amazing.” You said after a moment.

“Yea.” Sebastian agrees.

That’s when you got to thinking. You realized that you and Sebastian said “I love you” to each other. You still weren’t sure if it was the heat of the moment or if that’s how you two actually feel about each other.

“Seb?” You turned your head towards him.

“Hmm?” Sebastian hums, turning his head toward you as well.

“What you said earlier…” You maneuvered yourself so you were laying on your side and your head was propped up against your hand. “When you told me you love me, did you mean it or was it the heat of the moment?” You asked.

“I mean it.” He answers. “I’ve been in love with you for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you.” He tells you. “Did you mean it?” He asks.

“Yes.” You answered softly.

Sebastian smiles at you and leaned up, kissing you softly and passionately. You smiled against his lips, caressing his bearded cheek. You two leaned your foreheads against each other’s, gazing in each other’s eyes.

“You do know we have to go back out to the party, right?” You say.

“I know.” He says.

“Everyone is gonna know we left the party to fuck.” You said.

“They’ll also know we’ll be a couple when we go back out there.” He says.

“True.” You say, kissing him.

“I love you, dragă.” He murmurs softly with a smile.

“I love you too, Sebby.” You almost whispered, smiling back at him.

-Bucky’s Doll

[imhappierthanever]

This is part two my lovelies.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked as Billie lead you out of the room you had opened each other’s gifts in. The gifts you told the other you didn’t need because you had each other, but still there you both were.wrapping paper littering the floor, neat bows and bells all around. New things to love and cherish but again, not as much as you loved the other.

“Just a little bit more, my love. Few more steps.” You felt the air getting colder as your curiosity grew. You felt Billie’s hands leave yours as your bodies stopped. “Okay, now.” She said softly. And you did, eager to see just what she had been up to. A gasp escaped as your eyes widened, taking in the beautiful view in front of you. Billie had created a winter wonderland just for the two of you. Fake snow blew lightly in the air, her cute little crochet snow flakes hanging from everywhere and you wondered when she found the time to make them as your eyes landed on the snow covered trees and the cute little snowman. Both dressed like you and Billie. Your heart fluttered, not believing her for one second. That is, until your eyes met hers. “Billie.” You cooed softly, cupping her cheek. “I can’t ever believe you. You did all of this for me?”

“I wanted the moment to be something you wouldn’t ever forget.” She said as she grabbed your hand, holding it in hers. “My love, I always knew. From the moment that we met that I wanted to spend the rest of forever with you. You make me feel incredible every single moment we’re together, and I find myself falling so much harder. You make me feel so happy and loved, so cared for and I just know there’s no one else in the world for me, but you my darling girl. Spend forever with me and make all my dreams come true?” She asked starting into your eyes with so much love you felt yourself melting with each passing second. She was melting you into a puddle in the middle of your own personal winter wonderland as memories of you both flooded your mind and your heart.

You knew she was your everything. Your future, your world entirely. And in truth, there was no one else for you. You let the tears fall down your face that had been threatening to fall. She swiped them away, holding your face in her hands, smiling at you with that perfect smile of hers that made your knees go weak still.

“Billie.”You said choking on your words as well as your thoughts. “I feel like I’ve been in love with you my whole life. There’s no one else I would rather be with, no one else who could make me feel the way that you do. I want to wake up to you every morning and get lost in you until we go to sleep. I want to drown myself with you and never come back up for air. I want to watch all of your dreams come true and be by your side for it all. I love you so much, Billie. Forever with you is all I’ve ever wanted. “ you said ending your rant, seeing how even she was beginning to tear up.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing to do.” Billie said pulling out a velvet box, quickly opening it as if she were in fear that you would change your mind. But you both knew. This was the start of your forever.

“Marry me?” She asked presenting the ring to you. The ring she had so carefully picked out, a symbol of everything you shared. “Yes my love. A thousand times yes.” You said admiring her hard work as she slid the metal onto your finger where it would always stay. “I love you so much. I can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“I love you more!” You challenged, tears beginning your journey down your face for the millionth time that day. You grabbed her face in your hands, kissing her with as much passion as you could before you inched her body down onto the ‘snow’ covered ground, fake flakes clinging to you as you kissed her lips with as much passion that your body contained. Both of you repeating the words mine and yours over and over again. As many times as it took for you both to realise that this was real.and no Christmas could ever compare to this one, or the way you made each other feel. Now you really did have everything.

[error-dark]

Helluva Boss Sinsmas Spoilers!!!

So much to talk about. I am absolutely feral right now. Even with a bit of time to process everything, I'm still not okay (in the best way possible).

Blitz, giving Stolas lots of horse plushies to cuddle with, cooking Stolas food, helping him with shopping, laundry, getting food and clothes, hell EVEN FUCKING ROBBING stores for Stolas! He's giving Stolas everything he needs right now!!

Not to mention this!!!!

HE HIRED STOLAS!!!!

I also noticed there were a lot of Season 1 parallels. For example:

There were even parallels to "You Will Be Okay" within Octavia's solo, "I Will Be Okay". (Actually, now that I think about it, it might be the revise version/Octavia version of "You Will Be Okay".

Speaking of Octavia...

I made a theory post some time ago about the possibility of her coming in to save her dad.

I WAS FUCKING RIGHT!!!!

Also, I love this anime/manga effect that they chose to do. I was not expecting that and I LOVED IT!!

It is bittersweet, really. She still saved him (and Blitz), obviously deep down she still cares and loves her dad. She's still hurt and disappointed that, in her eyes, he left her for Blitz. I mean, she's not wrong. That's technically what happened, even though we all knew that Blitz would've died if it weren't for Stolas. But she's disappointed that he broke his promise. She has every right to be upset right now.

I know Stolas did everything he could to protect Octavia, to avoid giving her the similar trauma that he went through as a kid. But even then, I feel like some of this complicated stuff could be avoided if he had just told her the truth. Even though it's a hard pill to swallow, Octavia still needs to know the truth about everything.

And yes, I know that Stolas tried to tell her at the end, but at that point, it was technically too late. Octavia is not gonna hear him out right now or any time soon. And that hurts, for both of them.

Perhaps one day, Octavia will learn what's really going on behind the scenes. Perhaps she'll understand better why Stolas acted the way he did, and why he did all of those things. She doesn't have to forgive him right away (though, she could forgive him much later on if she wants to). But I still have a strong feeling, despite everything, deep down, she still loves her dad, even if everything's complicated right now.

Moving on...

MILLIE'S PREGNAT!!!! AHHHHH!!!!

She even called up Sallie May for advice!!! She's worried about how Moxxie would react!!

Honestly, I'm highly sure Moxxie would still love Millie and support her. I really hope he'd be happy with having a child (or children if they end up being twins or triplets). Maybe he'd also be worried about ending up like his shitty father, in which Millie would reassure him that he is NOTHING like his father and never will be.

And of course, Blitz would try to give them Parenting 101 Lessons on What To Do and What NOT To Do. Maybe Stolas would also try to help them out as well, but I feel like he'd get very emotional, because it'd remind him of his daughter.

One bonus thing I wanna mention real quick: Loona's still calling Blitz "Dad".

Alright this post is way too fucking long. I'm so sorry but there's too much to talk about and point out. And I'm sure there's a lot more to talk about, like Blitz and Stolas acting like an actual couple. But I'm gonna leave it here.

Anyway... how are y'all feeling about the Season 2 Finale?

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 25

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: All We Were, All We Could Be.

Notes: Man, that chapter is getting awfully close. 😰

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  25/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You felt your blood’s pressure drop like a stone to ground, then rise like a flame to air. Charles expression changed immediately from irritation to genuine fear. This could not be happening… you could barely hold back the anger boiling up inside.

“Is that true?” Charles asked you, clearly feeling misled.

“I-” What could you even say? How could you even start to explain the real situation of this ‘arrangement’ that Father Carden had made?

When Lancelot looked at you, awaiting the answer, you glared up at him. Charles got up from the chair, apologized to Lancelot and walked away to clear his mind and avoid a possible confrontation.

You rose to your feet and got into Lancelot’s face. “Outside. Now!”

As you walked out the door, you didn’t even look if he was following, you were too concentrated on controlling your anger before it could risk waking up the entire inn if it bursted loose. When you were a little away from the inn’s entrance Lancelot stepped outside as well.

He could feel the storm in the air, it announced itself in the look you gave him now. It had not been his proudest moment, but after hearing what that man proposed he could not stop himself.

“How dare you?” You shook your head. “Does it make you feel good to humiliate me like that? To tell people what I was forced to be?!”

He pushed his feet to approach. “It was never my intention to humiliate you.”

“Then why did you just do that?!” you shouted it at him.

He tried to sound calm while he clearly wasn’t, “He was acting too familiar towards you.”

Your tone grew demanding as he stopped right in front of you. “Yes. And?”

A frown settled on his forehead. “It is not appropriate.”

“Why? Because we are wed in the Church’s eyes?” You confronted him. “I told you before, I never gave you my vows! You don’t get to act like a jilted lover!”

It silenced him, he looked off to the side, jaw tense. He let the storm come over his head.

“You do not get to control who I spend my time with!” you told him off. “I never took the vow you took. I’ve never let religion tell me that I can’t follow my desires.”

He looked your way again, trying to decipher where you were going with this.

“I am not a maiden anymore.” you informed him of the personal truth. “Maybe you thought I was. But I am not pure as you believed, or wanted, me to be. I’m not some innocent girl who needs someone to protect her virtue. And I most certainly do not need a husband, that I was forced to have, to lay claim on me!”

Lancelot was quite rattled, still his stubborn demeanor did not let it show well. He was quiet as your fury rained down on him, and you wished you knew why he didn’t say anything or even argued back.

You stepped away from him to walk back to the inn. “This union between us is based on a lie. Do not ever throw this arrangement in my face like that again! You may be my husband, but my heart is not yours to have. "

He did not move a muscle when you walked past and away from him. His eyes were unreadable and they never lifted from the grass.

        It took him a while to return to the inn as well, you were already back in the room and making a comfortable place for you and Percival to sleep with some linen that Amelia had kindly offered. The silence between you when he stepped into the room was heavy. You were upset, and he… well you didn’t know how to place his reaction. He was just as quiet as you were towards him now. Percival must have felt the tension, he took it upon himself to chat away the silence until it was time to sleep. Fortunately for the boy, he fell asleep easily. For you it was difficult, the sour encounter between you and Lancelot kept you awake. And even with your back facing the bed, you did not feel comfortable enough to sleep. Having to share a room with someone you had a falling out with was anything but pleasant. Perhaps it was wise to set a boundary after this, to create the distance that had not been there ever since Cassian had handed you over to him. The silent tension was just too heavy to bear, and when they had fallen asleep you wrote down a note for them to find on one of the pieces of parchment you had found in the drawers of the cabinet, grabbed your satchel and went out of the room.

Amelia proved to be a night owl, she was still awake and eating some of the stew from that evening. “Up so late?”

You put down a few coins in front of her on the bar. “I want to rent a second room for myself for the night.”

She looked down and hesitated to take the payment. “I saw you leave the inn earlier with the Weeping Monk. So he is not your lover. He’s just your husband.”

Your mouth fell open. “I-”

She smiled cheekily. “I knew it. The way he looks at you says it all.”

You ignored her imagination. “It was arranged for us. We didn’t choose to wed.”

She let it slip, “I bet he doesn’t mind one bit.”

She must have seen you enter just as upset as you were when you exited. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight. I just want to get some sleep.”

“Alright.” Amelia knew when her patrons needed to be left alone, she reached over to take the coins but her hand halted midway.

When she looked past your shoulder in the direction of the stairs, you knew who would be there if you turned around. You pressed your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself before you’d begin to cuss him out. He was standing right behind you, you could just feel it.

“I wish to speak with you.” Lancelot’s voice sounded. The caution in his tone was audible. He had been in a rush to find you, he was not wearing his jerkin and had put on the cloak haphazardly.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest to shield yourself because he was in close proximity. “Can it wait until morning?”

“No.” He would not let this simmer on. “Another room will not be necessary. If we cannot talk this through tonight, then I will sleep outside. You will not have to flee the room, that you paid for, for me.”

“I am not fleeing.” It came out defensive.

He arched a brow but did not challenge the statement. “Good. Then we can sit at that table and talk.”

You held up a hand to stop him when he tried to take you by the arm. “What if I don’t want to?”

For a moment he was trying to read your eyes, the strength in his voice had weakened when he spoke again. “I will not force you.”

After giving it some thought, you pointed at a table. “Over there?”

Relief washed over him. “Yes.”

You moved past him and took seat at the table that was at a convenient distance from the bar and the stairs. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”

He moved the other chair to sit a little more at your side instead of opposite of you. “There is a thorn between us, I know you are not telling me everything you have wished to say ever since I arrived here. I had hoped that you would speak to me about how you truly feel about me being here after what has happened between us. Holding back grievances is what lets hatred grow, I prefer you voice them.”

He let a silence fall, hoping it would encourage you to fill it. But you were quite for a little while, contemplating what or what not to say. He was after the truth, to hear what you had held back so long.

You started. “Tonight I felt like you believe that you own me.”

“That was never my intention.” he said, quite shocked.

That reaction told you that he was sincere about it. “It is how it felt.”

He folded his hands together on the table, and after a few seconds he spoke. “I offer my apologies for what I did earlier. You were right to confront me.”

You said not a word, just looked at the way his fingers were nervously moving over his thumb in a soothing manner. He was feeling vulnerable, that much was clear, it oddly helped you to stay calm and listen.

His gaze did not lift up from the table. “I confess that I was concerned when I heard the man proposition you. I thought you were uncomfortable.”

“You thought I needed help?” It had been a little uncomfortable to hear the proposition, but not so much that help was needed.

He gave a shallow nod. “Sometimes I forget how well you can handle yourself in difficult circumstances.”

You kept looking at how withdrawn he was, as if he feared you’d lash out at him all of a sudden. “You were just trying to protect me…?”

Finally his eyes locked on yours, their intensity burned right into you. “I meant what I said about protecting you. It may have started at the Hidden’s request, but I decided to continue with it.”

Now it was you who kept your eyes on the table. “I accept your apology.”

He gave the incentive to let your thoughts out about it all. “This was not all I had hoped that would be discussed.”

You knew what he wanted to hear about, the truth about the ice that was not yet broken between you after the friendship was frozen into it. “I can’t hide that I’m hurt and confused by what has happened between us.”

“Confused?” He found himself saying it out loud.

“I loved your company.” You bit your lip to keep your emotions down and locked away. “And when I heard what Father Carden discussed with you about gaining my trust, about forging weapons with my magic… it broke me.” A silent pause fell, recalling the feeling made it come back and hurt again. You couldn’t look at him. “I finally had someone that didn’t hurt me, that was kind to me, and then that hope was stolen away. I hated you, and missed you just as much, you rotten bastard.”

You only saw his shadow move a little, but your eyes never lifted from the table, if they did then your courage to speak of it would falter. “I wish it wasn’t like this. That I could just trust you without feeling like a fool for taking the risk again.”

He reached for your hand with so much caution that you believed he would give up half-way.

Still it came and his fingertips rested on top of your hand. “I cannot undo the harm I have done to you, I know this now. I owe you the life you deserved instead of the one you were forced to live, by me, by Father, by your family…” His hand curled around yours gently. “I should have told you of Father’s order. I should have told you everything. It was selfish to keep it from you out of fear that you would turn away from me, a desperate act to try and hold on to what was between us. Because our friendship brought me a comfort I had never found before.”

A silence fell, heavy as his words sank into you.

He quietly spoke, “You were right. I wanted it all. To see Father proud. To have you near…” There was a short pause. “You did well to fight me off and flee, you took control over your future. And in the forest I was still too blind to see how bringing you back to Father would have led to the destruction of your soul. I was too blind… I am sorry.”

You had heard his voice break and he was trying not to let it show. “When we were locked in that room to face the storm, you promised me that I would have my freedom back. Was that a lie?”

He shook his head. “I wanted you to have your freedom.”

“But only after Carden got what he wanted from me. Because you couldn’t stand disappointing him.” you confronted him.

A silence fell over him, you could tell that he was thinking about what you had just told him.

Your voice was wavering when asking for a truth you feared to learn of, “Would you truly have been able to stand aside and watch as he made me into a weapon and forced me to use my magic against the Fey. To see him destroy me?”

He took a few seconds before he answered.

“Lancelot?”

His eyes fell shut. His answer was heavy. “No.”

He had imagined the situation for a moment. How you would have been forced to endure Father’s treatment, how your conscience would so quickly have destroyed your soul and the ruins it would leave. Even seeing you broken in his imagination was unbearable. He would not have been able to bear witness of it in reality either, his response to it would have led to his execution.

Your instinct believed him to be truthful, you could sense the remorse in him. Regret was all over his expressions. “Even if our friendship is real, I wish it was not born from Father Carden’s plan to manipulate me.”

He opened his eyes and leaned a little forward. “Then let us start anew. From where we are here and now. I will earn your trust and be worthy of it, I swear it.”

“We can try.” Even if it was to see if that spark of hope was right or wrong. “But how do we go from here?”

He asked for clarification, “What troubles you?”

“There is the fact that we are wed.” you pointed out the most obvious obstacle.

His hand released yours as he leaned back against his chair. “I know you do not consider this marriage to be true. But to me it holds value, I was taught such a union is sacred.”

This truly was a matter that needed to be discussed clearly it seemed. “You cannot ask of me to be a true wife. I never made any vows. This was decided by Father Carden, not me. I decide who I spend my time with.”

“I will ask nothing of the sorts of you.” He ticked his finger against the edge of the table to release some of the tension he must have felt. “What I mean to say is that I will keep to the promise of this union. I cannot decide for you to do the same, and I will not.”

What it meant was not clear. “Keep to the promise?”

He cleared his throat, still his voice wavered just slightly. “To be faithful.”

That was not an answer you expected to hear, it stunned you even. “I do not ask that of you. You are free to do as you please.”

His reply came quick, “It would please me to respect this union.”

This was an argument you would not win, that much was clear. “So, if you meet someone and fall in love with them, then what? You’ll tell them you will stay with a wife you do not even love, because of an arrangement that was forced on us?”

He went quiet and rubbed his knee a few times slowly.

You got the feeling that it had upset him somehow. Maybe you were being too harsh. “Do not let the Church have that power over you, Lancelot. Let yourself experience what it is like to not have to abide by rules of the scriptures.”

There was a hint of caution in his voice. “Would it be possible to discuss this if such matters arise in the future?”

An open discussion felt far more comfortable to deal with it. “That is alright.”

A breath of relief passed his lips. “I do confess I prefer us speaking like this. Calm, and open to hear what the other wishes to say.”

“I agree.” You hummed.

The jest came unexpected. “Without one of use setting our surroundings on fire.”

“Did you have to bring that up?”

“Is this not a matter we should discuss?”

“No.”

His curiosity won. “Were you aware that you could conjure up Fey Fire without the presence of normal fire?”

You saw the hint of genuine interest in his eyes. “I would have told you if I had known, considering I trusted you before all that. But I don’t feel like discussing this tonight, another time?”

He gave a nod. “What that man suggested tonight…” he could barely voice it, “Would you have done so had I not interrupted?”

That was a very personal thing to ask. “Spend the night with him?”

His eyes flickered away and focused on the wall beside him. He hummed.

You shook your head. “No. I barely know him. And I am not in the mood to crawl into bed with someone. I just want some peace and quiet.”

He moved his chair to stand. “Then we should head back to our room.”

“‘Our’?” you raised a brow.

Almost did he think you took offense, then he smiled when realizing it had been a jest. “Do not fear, I am not asking what the baker asked for.”

You scoffed but couldn’t hold in a soft laugh. “Good. Because I do not intend to ever consummate this marriage.”

His wit was sharp, “I thought I was the one who took the vow of celibacy.”

You got up from your chair too when he stood, too tempted not to get him a little flustered now that he opened that conversation. “I wonder if you have ever considered breaking that vow.”

It distracted him, he accidentally knocked his leg against the corner of the table and buckled over a little from the sharp pain that shot through his leg for a few seconds. Ouch.

You took hold of his elbow to support him. “That’s going to bruise.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Sorry. Did I distract you with my sinful question?” You bit back a grin.

“Yes.” he blurted out the truth.

It was to distract him from the pain. “Can I still expect an answer?”

He sounded mildly amused, “Why do you and Percival have so many questions for me?”

Was that not obvious? “Because when does a Fey ever get to stick their nose in a monk’s private matters?”

The pain lessened and he was able to start walking towards the stairs. It caught Amelia’s attention right away.

“Are you sure you do not need another room?” she called out after you.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” You politely declined. “We’ll share the room we have.”

She hummed, a grin on her face, her offer came out so casual, “I can rent you another room for an hour or so, if you need a moment away from that young one.”

Your friendly smile turned into a look of embarrassment at what she had meant. It took Lancelot a few seconds longer, and seeing your reaction, to realize the true meaning behind Amelia’s offer.

You fired back. “Like I said earlier, you can write books with that much imagination.”

Her thoughts were on her tongue. “I barely need to use my imagination. Look at how close you’re standing.”

Right away you and Lancelot looked to the gap there was barely present between you, he was the one who took a step to the side. Her boldness outmatched yours this time.

“Goodnight, Amelia.”

“Goodnight.” She waved a little, an arrogant gesture that suited her quite well.

When Lancelot did not move yet, you grabbed him by the arm and yanked at it until he followed. As you walked up the stairs and towards the room he questioned you on Amelia’s reaction.

“Do you speak of me to her?” he wondered out loud.

“Sometimes.” you admitted.

A corner of his mouth curved up. “What do you tell her?”

You hoped your honesty would scare away further questions he might have. “I have been trying to convince her that I am not bedding you.”

He let out something that sounded in between a scoff and a chuckle. “I suppose it is odd to see us here together. A monk sharing a room with a woman in an inn is prone to raise questions. And there is a child with us, there is enough seed for rumors to sprout.”

Your voice lowered the closer you got to the room. “Still, I hope she believes it. I don’t like it when people stare at me and I can just tell that they are forming opinions about me.”

He hoped to sooth that fear. “People will always form opinions, it is not our fault if they form the wrong ones. We should only concern ourselves over our own path and try to do the best that we can.”

Lancelot opened the door to the room quietly, Percival was snoring the night away as you stepped into the room with him. Wordlessly you exchanged looks with the Ash Man, he was trying not to laugh at how to boy laid sprawled out onto the bed of linen you had made for him. You returned to the heap of linen that you had made your own bed from on the ground. Speaking openly about your feelings had brought a great sense of relief, a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. It was worth it to try and see if this friendship could be saved, you certainly wanted to try.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Being up so late last night gave you it’s punishment for it the next morning, you were not aware that the sun had been up for quite some time already. Lancelot gently nudging you was what finally woke you up.

He smiled down at you. “I was starting to wonder when you would ever wake again.”

You grumbled something incoherent in your drowsy state, it only made him nudge you more. Even half-awake, you still registered just how unafraid he was to touch you. A squeeze to your shoulder, a few brushes of his hand over your arm and a risque pat to your hip.

He didn’t stop bothering you, knowing you’d fall asleep right away again. “You will have trouble sleeping tonight if you sleep longer. Come, up.”

It didn’t help when you tried to swat his hand away. He was persistent. “Ugh, gods! FINE!”

He chuckled and rose to stand. “I went and got us breakfast. Bread and a mixture of baked vegetables.”

The scent of the food in the room made you get up faster, you stumbled to the table to sit and eat. It was Percival who shoved your plate under your nose.

“Can I ask you something?” The boy eyed you curiously.

“Of course.” You took a bite of the bread.

Percival took a sip of water from one of the tankards on the table to flush down his breakfast. “Have you always known that you were a bit Fey?”

A bit Fey? It was endearing to hear how he worded that. That was quite a question to start your day. “I didn’t know for a while. I was five years of age when I first learned that I did inherit my mother’s Feyblood. I fell in the forest, a leaf of an ash tree touched my skin and I saw the marks appear under my eyes in a puddle of rain.”

Lancelot stood against the wall, drinking from a tankard of water whilst listening. This had been something you had not shared with either of them before.

“I hid it from everyone, you see… my family was not so good to me, I didn’t want them to know.” You tried your best to leave out the fact that you risked being sold at that age, or beaten to death. “When my half-brother, Cassian, found out I was part Fey, he traded me to Father Carden in exchange for his own life.”

“But that’s awful!” Percival uttered his dismay. “Your brother gave you to the paladins?”

You saw Lancelot grow a bit uncomfortable, but the boy had a right to know more about you. “Yes. And Father Carden ordered Lancelot to watch over me. We spend a lot of time together. Father Carden feared others would learn that Lancelot was Fey if they ever saw my markings appear, to prevent that from happening, he made us share a tent. And when my markings appeared no one else but Lancelot saw.”

Percival turned his head to look at the Ash Man. “They didn’t know you are Fey?”

“No. Only Father knew.” he admitted.

You continued explaining it. “The paladins thought I was Sky Folk. Father Carden lied to everyone to hide that Lancelot was Fey, because he knew the Church would see it as betrayal.”

Percival understood why and spoke to Lancelot. “He was using you to find our people… that is why he didn’t want anyone to know.”

Lancelot gave a nod, silently impressed with the boy’s ability to understand the situation so quick and well. “She kept my secret.” He took in a deep breath. “The day I decided to help you, something happened between her and I.”

Your eyes widened at him, and Percival looked at him with great suspicion.

It did not make him take it back. “I had upset her, and she lost her trust in me. Last night we discussed the matter and I hope to rebuild the trust between us. You have a right to know this, Percival. So you may understand that if at times she does not feel like speaking to me, she is not at fault. By allowing me to be here, and having helped me, she has shown a great amount of grace. For which I am very grateful.”

“What did you do?” Percival demanded to know.

You hadn’t expected the boy to react so fierce on your behalf and reached over to touch his hand to calm him. It did not help.

The boy was staring him down. “Well?”

Lancelot swallowed hard. “I was given the order to manipulate her into trusting me. Because she possesses the ability to create Fey Fire…. And I lied to her when I told her why Father Carden was interested in Fey Fire.”

“You what?!” Percival was dismayed and disappointed at the revelation, blinked and then looked at you. “Wait… what?!”

You send Lancelot a scolding look for being a little too honest towards the boy. The discussion that followed took a long time. Percival’s questions darted between you and the Ash Man. You got the Fey Fire questions and the ones about the Hidden, Lancelot received a scolding from the boy and tried to explain the situation as he had done to you. It was a heavy conversation, especially because both you and Lancelot tried to maneuver around certain parts that Percival might have been too young for to hear.

“Your father send sellswords after you?” Percival asked, elbows on the table and head resting in his hands.

“Paying them for it is perhaps the most coin he has ever spend on me.” you said bitterly. Even as you tried to make light of it, it still hurt, and Percival must have read it right from your face that it did.

The boy got up from his chair and wrapped his arms around you, it was what let your tears break free from the chains you had put on them. It felt freeing to let go of them, to acknowledge the pain they had held on to for so many years.

“My papa didn’t like me either.” Percival muttered against your shoulder. “He always wanted me to be stronger.”

You embraced the boy tightly, feeling Lancelot’s eyes on you from across the room. “We have each other now.”

Percival squeezed you a litter tighter, then let go. “So I can stay with you?”

Your eyes widened, as did Lancelot’s. “Wha-… of course. Were you worried about that?”

Percival gave a small nod. Lancelot looked troubled by it, he hadn’t been aware that the boy feared to be abandoned or send away by him.

“Percival.” He approached the boy. “I owe my life to your bravery, you do not have to be concerned that either of us will send you away.”

“He’s right. You’re stuck with us I’m afraid.” You grinned at Percival.

A careful smile formed on the boy’s face, he was not one to easily show his emotions to others. He took the moment to ask Lancelot, “If we stay together, will you show me how to fight like you did against the masked paladins?”

He immediately looked at you for permission, he was raised to fight but was this good for the boy to be taught too? With a nod you gave your opinion on the matter.

“I suppose I can demonstrate a few matters.” he carefully told the boy.

Percival was up on his feet not a second later. “Now?”

The amount of self-consciousness he suddenly felt was ridiculous. He was used to keeping in the shadows and was now asked to show what he could do.

You got up from the chair. “I’d love to stay and watch, but I need to go and fetch those herbs. Do try not to get wounded while I’m gone, I’ll still have to make that ointment.” As you passed Lancelot, you curled a hand around his arm. “Hey, when you feel strong enough and up for it, Amelia could use some help with the firewood outside the inn. She has asked if you could bring some of it inside the inn, but only if you feel well enough for it. Otherwise I’ll do it. Just let me know?”

He leaned into the touch. “I will do it.”

“Only when you feel well.” You were firm on that. “Don’t tear your stitches.”

His voice reached a warmth that not even he knew it could reach. “I am in good hands if they do tear.”

You let go of his arm, trying to understand the reaction in you at his words. Was it your imagination or had that truly bordered on being flirtatious? Surely it was just him teasing about it. “You won’t like my hands when I have to do all that work again.”

A dashing smirk curved his lips at the threat, he let you walk past him and to the door, ignoring how Percival was eyeing him with great suspicion. Then you were out of the room before one of them could offer to come along, and by the time you reached the stairs you could hear the sound of steel being drawn. With hope that Lancelot was careful enough not to accidentally harm the boy, you left the inn to search the woods for the herbs.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You had walked the distance to the woods, being on horseback would have been easier for paladins to spot you. Searching for the herbs was a good form of practise to train your nose to pick up vague scents. Not all herbs however had vague scents, some of them smelled strong enough that you barely had to bother using your sense of smell. After stashing your satchel full of them, you started to head back to the village. After only a few steps, you heard the warning whispers of the Hidden in your ear, a chill ran down your spine. With caution you kept walking, pretending that you were not alarmed by the feeling of being followed. You moved your hand to wrap it around the pommel of your sword. With each step, you tried to recall all you had learned from Lancelot to defend yourself. Leaves ruffled behind you and you started to run without looking back. The Hidden spoke the same thing over and over again.

    ~“Run. Run. Run…”~

    And you knew better than to question ancient deities when they were trying to warn you. Branches smacked into your arms and chest, bushes with thorns threatened to slow your legs down. But it was the sudden hit to your stomach with a thick branch, just as you ran past a tree, that made it all come to a halt. You stumbled and fell, grasping your abdomen as a dull pain seared through it. Nausea hit almost instantly, but there was no time to pay it any mind. The man attacking you was already trying to grab you. You kicked at his groin, missing it just barely, it was still enough to send him back a little. Up of the ground, you drew your sword just in time to defend yourself against his own.

“Your father is expecting you, Lady of Ravenwick.” he spoke in a threatening way and tried to disarm you.

For you it was the incentive to punch him in the face. The only thing he would be taking back to your father was your rotting corpse because he wasn’t going to take you back alive. Being struck made him ruthless, you struggled to keep your footing, then his sword cut through your sleeve and a sharp burning pain began on your arm. There was no time to inspect the damage, you were fighting for your life. He grabbed you by your other sleeve, again trying to steal your sword. A plan formed fast in your mind and you pretended to struggle and fail to keep hold of your sword. He grabbed your sword, believing he had won and you were defenseless. His victorious smile was wiped away when you sank your dagger into his neck. Blood poured out onto your hands and it came out even quicker when you pulled the dagger out again. Stumbling back from him, you watched him fall to the grass and choke on his own blood. A minute had passed before you realized you had not moved at all anymore. When you began to move again and picked up your sword, a heavy tiredness came over your body. Right away you knew it wasn’t good, there must have been something on the sellsword’s sword. Poison? The feeling increased with each step, your heart was hammering in your chest. It was as if you were in a strange dream, nothing felt real anymore. All you could do was go ahead on the familiar path and hope the feeling would pass soon.

Once you finally stumbled up the stairs in the inn, you realized you could not recall the walk to the inn nor arriving there. How much time had passed? It was a frightening feeling to experience. Your hand dragged along the wall for support whilst walking to the room. Fear had you in it’s hold. You opened the door, praying that it was the right one, and found Percival and Lancelot sitting at the table having a normal conversation. All you could hear were your own heavy deep breaths through your nose, still not enough air seemed to get into your lungs. Percival looked up at you shocked.

Lancelot whipped his head around to look at you, he was on his feet and getting closer not a second later. Distress filled his voice. “What happened?!”

Your tongue felt too heavy, your head too light. It wasn’t until he moved your cloak aside and touched your arm that you realized that blood had completely soaked the sleeve and it was dripping unto the floor. Everything felt so slow and so fast all at once. He was asking questions. Percival was asking questions. Somehow you were sitting on the bed all of a sudden, your sleeve was being cut off by Lancelot while Percival was hurrying around to get what Lancelot was asking him to fetch. Needle, thread, water… your mind failed to connect the items to their functions. You had started to lean forward a little too much, why else did the Ash Man move an arm around you to stop you from getting closer to the floor. You registered hooking your arm around his for support, holding on to it as if it was the only thing to hang onto in a rowdy sea. Your eyes closed for just a moment to avoid seeing the room sway. And it was the poison that decided not to let them open again.

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[gingernut1314]

Blue Christmas

Summary: You find yourself with the Winchesters on Christmas, but this year is bluer than usual and Dean is right there for you.

Content: gender-neutral reader, implied reader is a hunter, Dean comports reader, slight spoilers in regards to the bunker

Word Count: 1.2K

Song: Blue Christmas

A/N: I haven't written for Dean in a hot minute but I had this little idea and needed to share it. I hope you all enjoy and have a happy holidays!

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The world was quiet outside the bunker. A quiet that the snow littering the ground only seemed to amplify and it was a quiet that was broken by the creaking of the bunker’s front door opening. 

“Damn--colder than a witches tit out here.” Dean Winchester called as he came out into the night air. You couldn’t help the small huff of amusement that puffed out your nose, which created a cloud of white thanks to the frigid weather. 

“Bet that’s somethin’ you’d know for a fact huh?” You teased, resting your cheek against your shoulder so you could watch him out of the corner of your eye. Dean gave you a cheesy shrug, that goofy smile you’d come to adore pulling at those full lips.

“Maybe I figured the truth out once…twice. The third time was just a shifter parading ‘round like the damn witch we’d been huntin’.” 

“Course.” You chuckled as he started to struggle to shut the door, the two white mugs full of something warm in his hands making it all the more difficult. His brows furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out as he used his middle and ring finger to grab the handle. He gave a loud curse when hot liquid sloshed over the lip of one of the mugs, burning at his fingers before he got the door semi-shut. 

A small laugh of triumph left his lips before he turned to find you again, lifting the two mugs your way. 

“I made wassail.” Dean beamed proudly as he walked up the snow-covered steps to come stand beside where you sat on the front edge of the stairwell. 

“Ooo. Sounds fancy.” You playfully said.

“Oh yeah. Real fancy.” Dean joked, passing off one of the mugs to you, which you took gratefully. The warmth seeping from the ceramic mug instantly began to thaw out your near-frozen fingers and you pulled it close to your face, hoping it might do the same for your nose. “Always wanted to make it. Never had a stove till now.” You watched him take a sip of his creation, a happy little hum on his lips. You followed his lead and tested the drink out yourself.  

Warm apple cider and an overwhelming amount of spiced rum met your taste buds. It made your nose scrunch up at the taste as you swallowed it down, the warmth of both the heated cider and alcohol spreading throughout your body. 

“Warms the soul right there.” Dean cheered.

“Gahk! Hell--right.” Dean laughed at your reaction. 

“Mind if I join ya for a while?” He asked and you nodded, scooting closer to the railing next to you to make space for him on the ledge. Dean sat down with a small grunt, shifting a bit to get more comfortable on the cold stone.

A small silence fell between you two as you took another brave sip of the wassail, craving its warmth despite its horrid taste. You watched as Dean did the same, the eldest Winchester’s eyes taking in the dark, snowy scenery before you. 

“Sorry…for being out here. I know you said it’s risky. I just--needed some air.” You breathed. Dean’s spring green eyes found yours then, giving you a small shrug.

“Eh, it’s okay.” A cocky little smirk pulled to his lips. “I’m here now to protect you.” You gave a scoffed laugh. 

The brothers had told you to not be out here too much as to not risk their man cave being found out, not because you needed any sort of protection. You’d taken down your fair share of spooky things that go bump in the night all by your lonesome.

“My hero.” You mused. 

“You bet your ass I am,” Dean spoke in goofy confidence. You let an easy smile pull at your lips as another handful of silence passed between you two. “You want to talk about it?” He was the one to break the silence this time round. 

“‘Bout what?” You took another sip of your drink, pretending like you didn’t know what he was talking about. About what had been nagging at your mind all night. 

All week since you’d frantically found the Winchesters having some much-needed time off. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. I’m not so good with the pep talks. But I understand what you are feeling. You know I do.” You took a deep drink of the wassail, letting it burn at your throat and take away the tightness of your throat. “And I know we promised we’d get them back by the holidays--”

“It was wishful thinking--getting them by now. Don’t blame anyone for that.” Dean was quiet as he listened, serious eyes never leaving yours. “I’m just--It’s killing me--the not knowing. Not knowing where they are but knowing wherever it is they are in hell.” Your eyes stung as if sand had been thrown in your eyes. You forced yourself to look away from Dean, blurring eyes finding the brown colored cider in your hands. To keep him from seeing how truly hopeless you felt. 

A solid shoulder pressed against yours followed quickly by a side as Dean scooted over, closing the small distance that lay between you two. You felt nothing but grateful, moving so that you could press even closer as if you could steal the body heat he gave off. As if you could steal even a speck of his strength. 

Dean snaked his arm around your shoulders, letting you know it was okay to lean on him. Okay to use him for support and god did you need some support.

“I know. Wish I didn’t, but I do.” Dean spoke as you rested your head on him. “Just remember they’re strong. I’ve seen them fight. They’re something else--badasses.” You gave a little chuckle that came out more pathetic sounding than you had wished. “And remember that Sammy and I won’t stop helping you till we find them.” You nodded, the soft flannel he wore rubbing against your freezing cheek.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“No need for thanks.” Dean gave you a tight squeeze. “How ‘bout we go back inside. Get warm and hit the books. Keep looking.” 

“It’s okay. We’re not gonna find anything we hadn’t seen before tonight.” You sighed, pulling out of his hold with a shake of your head. “I don’t want to make you and Sam’s Christmas any bluer than I’ve already managed to make it.” Dean shook his head right back at you. 

“Nah. Haven’t done a thing.” He brushed his cooling fingers over your cheeks, wiping away the streaking tears that had managed to escape your eyes. “Anyway, if there weren’t any blue Christmas’, Elvis wouldn’t have had anything to sing about.” You laughed, leaning into his touch. 

“You’re right.” 

“Hell yeah, I am.” He proudly spoke. “Inside?” He questioned, gently grabbing for your hand. You nodded, intertwining your fingers between his calloused ones as you let him guide you to your feet. 

“Hey--I’d feel even better if you gave me a little performance.” You bumped his shoulder playfully as you two made your way down the stairs towards the entrance. “Sang some Elvis. Think Sam would love it too, don’t ya think?” Dean gave a chest-rumbling laugh, as he started the struggle to open the door with one, mug-filled hand again. 

“You know I think you’re on to somethin’.” And as he swung the door back open, the lyrics of Blue Christmas bellowed from his lips in his best swaggering Elvis impression. 

Sam was far from loving it, but you drank in every last second.

[highlordofkrypton]

This is the story of Lucien Vanserra, as told in his own words, of his journey through his immortal life. Lucien recounts how he, a vampire, fell in love with the radiant and innocent Tamlin and how he destroyed both of their lives.

Finally, the time has come for your main gift @yaralulu for this year's @acotargiftexchange. This is the first of five chapters, so I hope you are seated and ready for bloody and toxic yaoi! Special shoutout to @olenvasynyt in this chapter, hope you like it and thank you for the inspiration!

TAGS: Explicit (oh yes, there will be smut), Lucien Vanserra/Tamlin, Alternate Universe - Vampire. More tags to be added along with new chapters.

READ ON AO3 OR UNDER THE CUT.

Vampires aren’t real.

If they were, surely the world would know about them by now? Science has advanced far too much, along with surveillance and weaponry. There’s no way that a vampire could get away—

No, they could.

The nights are more active with workers and party goers alike keeping the streets alive. People go missing all the time, and the understanding of disease and unique conditions could easily explain away the symptoms of vampirism. Fear of the sun? No, an allergy—skin sensitivity. Sunglasses? It’s nothing more than the consequences of a hangover. Nesta has seen it all, and she unravelled every single thread with plausible explanation and proof. If this one doesn’t work out, then she’ll know: vampires aren’t real.

Her manicured fingers trace the winding banister, up to a plain apartment. She would have imagined something much more wondrous and lavish for someone with the means to live forever, thus accumulating limitless wealth. Instead, he lives among the people, blending in with what would be his next meal. I could be next, she remarks, made of flesh and blood just like his neighbours. Is this worth it?

Curiosity is an insatiable hunger, and poverty deepens it. This could be the discovery of the century, and it would have her name on it. Nesta Archeron would carry her surname out of disgrace and finish her father’s work—the work that had him branded as a madman. People are much kinder to her, likening her interest as esoteric. It works in her favour that witchcraft and astrology are becoming more and more on trend. But she doesn’t want to be a trend. Her hunger lies in the truth, no matter how painful and terrifying. Her work is Putlizer worthy, she just needs the right subject.

Her knuckles rap at the door, just below the metal plaque written ‘406’.

Nesta had met the breathtaking stranger at the bar, drinking her woes away. Another opportunity slipped through her fingers in favour of lesser, more amenable male colleagues. Her mouth is too sharp, and her brain too smart. Maybe journalism isn’t for me, she’d lamented into a glass of whiskey, and at that very moment, he’d slid into the stool beside her. Her lips parted to reject him, but they hung there in muted surprise as she stared. He was beautiful, except beautiful didn’t cut it. He was breathtaking, so much that she could not find the words to express the depth of his handsomeness. Not quite pale, his pristine skin carried an olive undertone which she was sure would ripen nicely under the kiss of the sun, if he cared to venture out into it. His eyes—one amber, and the other pure gold—glinted in the darkness, as if stealing the light in the very room. There wasn’t enough light to make them glow like that, but that made him all the more entrancing. His long auburn hair was tied into a loose bun, strands artfully placed around his face to frame his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. He was so beautiful that she could not doubt that he was something more.

They got to talking, and he made her laugh in ways that were not obnoxious or at her expense. His flirtations were smooth and subtle, but not so much that she did not notice. His words were like the undertones of sweet maple in her drink—present, but not overwhelming and yet, it marks the difference between a good whiskey and everything else.

“I have your story,” he said so easily, as if changing lives were something he simply did at the drop of a hat. “Do you believe in vampires, Nesta?” He slipped a card into her pocket, and she had run her fingers over the gold printed address over and over again before finding herself here. 

The door swings open, and there he stands, nearly a foot above her in all his ethereal glory. His red hair had been let loose to fall across his shoulders like soft silk. She yearns to reach out and touch, her curiosity running wild in his presence. Instead, she tightens her grip on her purse and tips her chin up in defiance of the nerves bubbling inside her.

“You’re here.” The velvet of his voice sends shivers down her spine, and the delicate smile makes her weak. Does he know its power? He has to. His confidence is unmistakable. “Come in, Nesta.”

The apartment is modest, to say the least. It is the antithesis of its inhabitant who naturally commands a crowded room. Here, in the plainness of the room, he is the only thing that matters and it makes her painfully aware of him and his every movement.

He takes her coat, but she keeps her purse, and guides her to the small living room. He sweeps his slender hand towards the single seat while he takes the couch across from her. His arm rests along its back, extended and possessive, and he crosses his long legs. Although he’s the one being interviewed, his gaze weighs on her. It dissects her, and his thoughts are unreadable. He is nothing more than pleasant, patient and willing.

Nesta quickly takes out her things, as if not to waste his time—as if he didn’t have plenty of it. Her recorder is placed between them on a cheap ikea coffee table of pressed wood; she prefers it over using her phone, too easily distracted by the pop of notifications if she were to leave it out within view. In her lap, she keeps a notebook and a pen to jot down any questions that float to mind so as to avoid interrupting him.

“Are you ready?” He asks her. “Do you have enough battery on that?” His eyes flicker down to the recorder.

“I have my phone if ever,” Nesta explains. A small part of her thinks this is some kind of prank, and that she came all this way for nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time I went home with a man and ended up disappointed. What do I have to lose?

She sits back into the chair. “You were saying vampires were real?”

“I’m not just saying. They are real.”

Nesta smiles, and chuckles softly. “You’ll have to excuse me if I seem… incredulous. In my line of work, people make bold claims all the time and they rarely have the proof to back it up.”

If her resistance bothers him, he doesn’t show it. He is nothing more but comfortable. He watches her for a long moment, smiling again. His lips spread to bare his teeth, and the smile widens and widens to reveal two pointed fangs in place of his canine teeth. Before Nesta can argue about the use of false teeth, his eyes light up, and he speaks a single command: “Undress.”

Oh, yes, she would like that. She would like nothing more than to please the man before her. Nesta looks down, fingers darting to the buttons down the centre of her shirt. She frees the topmost one, then moves to the second one.

“Enough.”

Nesta blinks, her attention still pointed downwards to her blouse. A small gasp escapes her as she looks to Lucien in horror, and though his display had been innocuous, the realization that she is not safe prevails. He could hurt her, and she would be willing.

“I won’t harm you, Nesta. I just needed to show you that the things I can do… they are beyond human ability.” He keeps that pleasant smile on his face.

“Why me?”

“Because I want to tell my story. I have lived a long life, and to think that one day, it could fade to nothing,” he turns his head, glancing out the window, thoughtful. “It was not a good life, and I thought to confess to a priest, but I do not care for God’s forgiveness. Perhaps by helping you, I can atone for what I have done.”

Fear simmers beneath her curiosity, but Nesta won’t leave. She wants to know, she needs to know what could haunt someone like him? The terror he brings makes him even more attractive, and Nesta loathes herself for that thought. She nods. “Go on.”

“My name is Lucien Vanserra and I am a vampire, like my brothers and my father before me. I can no longer remember when I was born, or how I became the way I am, but what I remember is the first time I felt alive.” As he speaks, he looks beyond her, to a distant past she will soon be privy to. “And the day I died.”

Vampires don’t die… do they? Nesta isn’t sure what he means, whether he’s hinting at the way he was turned, or something metaphorical. Regardless, she knows exactly what her hook is going to be.

“My early life is nothing more than a haze, walking through this world as something more than human, but less than…” His pink lips purse, looking for the words. “Less than,” he simply decides, and Nesta simply understands. Sometimes, there are no words for that feeling, but only someone who has experienced it will understand. 

“You see, my father is very old and controls most of the world’s… interests. He has worked very hard to build an empire. My six brothers and I were his tools to achieve that.”

Were? These brothers, are they biological?

Nesta knows better than to interrupt a story. She jots her question down, and leaves it for later in case it’s answered later in their evening together. He pauses to give her time to write, and when she lifts her gaze, her breath catches yet again. The weight of his full attention is something. It brings heat to her cheeks, and she glances away, as if to wordlessly ask him to do the same.

Lucien glances away, lightly resting his chin on his knuckles. “His will was all that mattered. He would starve us, make us fight each other for scraps.” He looks back at Nesta before she queues another question. “Of human meat. We’d have to try and draw blood out of it.” Again, he turns his head and finds that distant point to stare at. “It was more of the same. Pain. Hunger. Hate. It all blends together after a couple of centuries. I can’t imagine what it is like for my father. Thousands of years,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “And so stagnant.”

“He’s still alive?” The surprise draws the question out of her before she can help it, but Nesta is rarely apologetic, even for the most honest of mishaps.

A purse of the lips is all his father is worth it seems. So little emotions have poured from this man before her; perhaps that’s her responsibility then. Not only to tell his story, but to feel it on his behalf. His life is more than words on a page; she’ll make sure to do it justice, to give it the second chance he so clearly yearns for.

“I would say so. My father has a way of… surviving even the worst odds. Or perhaps my eldest brother has finally dealt with him.” The corner of Lucien’s lips twitch, mild annoyance rearing its head. “I find it strange how humans are the one who show more grace than any of the gods you all worship so.”

“She was my first, a peasant woman in some distant countryside. The details of the place have long faded, but I remember her face, clear as day. The most beautiful human I had ever seen.” Lucien looks at Nesta when he speaks the next words. “At the time.”

“My father had tired of me and my weak heart. You see, out of my six brothers, I fancied his methods the least. Humans are… not cattle to me. They’re small, and weak, yes, but what they excel at is beyond the physical.” He lifts his index finger, tapping over his heart. “It’s here. With every beat. Jesminda embodied that with her every breath. She was better than all of us put together.”

“But that… comes later. I tend to digress when it comes to her.”

The corners of his lips twitch again, and this time, Nesta thinks it's the ghost of a smile come to haunt his melancholy.

“I was starving, and for my kind, hunger is madness. I lunged at her. I was going to drink her dry. I didn’t want to, but there is nothing that can stop us when we are… like that. Or perhaps I am simply a weaker creature. I don’t know how she knew, and she only ever told me that I looked desperate, not evil. She offered me her wrist to drink. I don’t remember letting go, but we both survived the encounter.”

Lucien leans forward, holding his hands out for Nesta’s notebook and pen. She hands them to him without complaint. He begins to draw.

“I loved her, and it was my first time experiencing such a feeling. You cannot truly understand love until you have been truly devoid of it. Anything else is fascination. Affection. Complacency. It was like seeing the sun for the first time and realizing that it does not burn me. It was a drink that could sustain me for the rest of eternity, even in the smallest doses. She was my heart, and every memory of her is a beat in our song.”

He finishes the sketch, handing the notebook back to her. Jesminda is beautiful —a match to his ethereal beauty. Nesta traces her fingers over the lines drawn, etching clearly defining her darker skin tone and long dark hair. Her irises are left clear, likely a pale colour. Are they as sharp as Lucien’s? No, Nesta doubts it. Jesminda has a warmth to her, even in a simple quick portrait drawn by the only soul left to remember her. Was she a vampire, too? Did she choose to stay by his side as long as she could?

“I didn’t have a chance to turn her,” Lucien supplies, and that leaves Nesta even more in awe. 

A human as beautiful as a vampire. A human who’s kindness cleared the haze of Lucien’s meaningless existence. Nesta is careful not to smudge the ink, still tracing her outline as if she could learn more from Jesminda herself. She wants to know what she saw in Lucien, but that is a mystery lost in time, isn’t it?

“I wanted to, believe me, but my father rather enjoys inflicting pain. I do not think he found greater joy than tearing my heart right out of my chest and making me watch.”

Lucien goes quiet for a long, long moment. When he goes still, it’s unsettling. There is nothing natural to it. He might very well be made of marble. 

“I’m so—”

“Save your breath. You’ll see, I’m not worth your pity. Looking back, I think he did us a favour.” He shifts again, peppering in the smallest mannerism tied to humanity. “The story isn’t about her because I don’t think Jesminda would want anything to do with the thing I’ve become. No,” he says to himself. “She’d grieve, I would think. Hm. Yes. She saw something in me that was worth believing in, and my father killed it along with her.”

“I promised a story about a vampire, and you will soon see that the only thing we share in common with you is this mortal plane, and our features. The rest…” Lucien huffs, amused. “Is a fantasy you’ve all made up to cope with the existence of the devils walking among you.”

“I have an amendment to make,” Lucien says, suddenly.

“Oh?” Nesta asks softly, invested in where this is going.

“This more than the story of how I lived, and how I died. This is the story of how I became my father, and it all begins with him. Tamlin. My love, my mate and my greatest sin.”