#wake up open twt close twt hours

[wild-moss-art]

The problem with twitter is that it will put the most aggressive and alienating fe3h discourse on your feed dated today even though it's 2023???

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship

content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!

summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...

notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD

I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

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  The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on. 

  9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work. 

  Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals. 

  A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you. 

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  So much waiting. 

  After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt. 

  ‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’

  Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning. 

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  “What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you. 

  “I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

  He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach. 

  You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly. 

  But still. 

  In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little. 

  It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell. 

  It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide. 

  “I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”

  You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”

  “Okay.”

  “Huh?” 

  “I’ll make it home on time tonight.” 

  His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever. 

  It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

   “Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.

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  The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly. 

  It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix. 

  Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise. 

  ’Oh’

  It was his birthday. 

  That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time. 

  Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night. 

  ’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.

  ’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day. 

  ’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.

  The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it. 

  He’d really gone and done it now. 

  He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot. 

  He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted. 

  But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night. 

  And now… now you weren’t there. 

  He’d left you alone. 

  He’d left you alone too long and you were gone. 

  You were gone. 

  You were gone and-

  ’Oh.’

  There you were. 

  The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.

  He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision. 

  You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up. 

  Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place. 

  “Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs. 

  Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”

  Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?” 

  “Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears. 

  “Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?” 

  “Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.

  You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real. 

  He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should. 

  But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy. 

  You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it. 

  “I’m sorry, (y/n).”

  “What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”

  “No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you. 

  Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because… 

  “My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you. 

  Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling. 

  “Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”

  “I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”

  “That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better. 

  Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further. 

  It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…” 

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  It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.

  Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms. 

  He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…

Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love

Pink Camellias: longing for you

Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me

[batsvnte]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞. 𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠

Changing courses of time cause baby, you are perfect - Mr Floyd Larry

(▰˘◡˘▰) ❥ comfort , established relationship ^ gn!reader | you’re the only person who he can truly find solace in - ooc maybe, incorrect grammar, spelling mistakes, not proofread, bits of headcannons if you squint

Xenos’s notes. art belongs to mulihaohao on twt

Those silent moments when he goes to sleep is one’s where he used to dread the jarring nightmares that haunt him. Ones that were reminisced of the past memories filled with pain and suffering and ones that were the haunting voices that echoes in his mind. Ones that he wished he could lock away forever until the next life that he can experience.

Sometimes they would replay in the back of his mind at any given moment. He usually would forget about them but once alone in the archives, Dan Heng would be reminded of them. The face of the man that always finds him. He could hide within a planet that was off the charts, and the red spider lilly will always bloom in the darkest part of the world. At times he would see the face of the woman who uses the moonlight as a veil. To hide how her past was nothing but a tragic story. Yet her red eyes were a void of madness ready to overtake her mind and bring her to the point of no return.

He can never run from those memories of his past.

Waking up alone in the dark room that he wishes that the nightmares will go away. He only remains awake for a few hours of the ‘night’. Both mind and body was tired. Dan Heng was a bit grateful that most of his comrades were off of the train to see him in this state. All but one person who decides to stay behind.

And here he had found himself in front of your cabin of the train. The door had a bit of decoration from your travels that would be easy to remove if needed. But it was an addition to your charm.

Contemplation gnaws at his thoughts. He didn’t wish to bother you. If your were focused on your hobbies or perhaps even sleeping, he didn’t wish to distract you from it. Dan Heng couldn’t process that you were right in front of him already. He had already knocked on your door in the moments of him being stuck in his thoughts.

“Dan heng?”

Faint dark rings circled his eyes. He could barely keep his eyes on you much less himself. Dan Heng just avoids your eyes entirely.

“Can I stay with you?”

Those short words were barely heard. It was a few seconds of processing what he said before the door was opened a little wider to let him in. A subtle gesture that he appreciated. He didn’t hesitate to let himself in the room. His aquamarine tail dragged behind him slowly. Brushing against your legs barely as he finds himself now in your bed. After a few short moments you back into the bed that was still radiating some form of warmth.

You knew why he was here. It didn’t take many words for you two to be huddled up next to each other within five minutes. It wasn’t unnatural for him to be this cuddly when he was sleepy. You didn’t mind it for the most part, which only led to you being squished between the mattress and him for most of the night. Along with the addition of his tail coiling around the two of you and the mattress itself. You didn’t ask about what it was that caused him to wake up and seek you out. A vague idea of what was going through his mind right now, but you didn’t question it. You were too tired to anyways.

Dan Heng couldn’t help himself for the most part. Intertwining his legs with yours and keeping you close to him is a blissful thing that he found comfort in. Resting his head above yours whilst you snuggled into his body.

He wished he could stay like this forever. Even if the time comes to wake up from his now peaceful slumber, he couldn’t ask for anything more than this.

[chixkencxrry]

mi sol

Summary: You get a new job as a caretaker at a mysterious estate two towns over. The salary is good enough for you to ignore certain things -- at first. Soon enough you have no choice but to get away. Too bad you're in for life. (one-shot, plot with porn) Vampire! Yandere! Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Warnings: eventual SMUT, masturbation, p in v, pussy eating, somewhat YANDERE! MIGUEL, YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU! NOT PROOFED

fanart by @yeagersatorubar (twt)

The email had come in the middle of the night.

It was from an unrecognizable source. An acceptance to something, some job you didn’t remember applying for. A caretaker job two towns over. You rubbed your eyes in the blue light glare of your rickety laptop, lips pursued as you read.

“When did I apply for this?”

Attached to the close of the email was a number and name. A woman named Lyla was the contact. The name of the property was Stone. You dialled the number. If the person was sending the email this late, you didn’t worry about your call waking them up. 

“Hello. You must be our new caretaker.”

You cleared your throat – taken aback. “I, uh, yes. I am. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling this late.”

The woman chuckled. “That’s fine! You’ll learn that we keep odd hours here.”

“Right,” did you really need the money that much? You eyed your room. It was pink, with posters half hanging. It had been your childhood room and you still occupied it. It made your mouth itch. You needed to leave. “When do you want me to start?”

Though as your taxi pulled up to the estate, you found yourself regretting it. Maybe regret was too strong a word. You found yourself reconsidering it. Had you done something terribly stupid by coming here? By packing your things and telling your parents they could fuck off?

It had taken four hours to get here, the sun had set and it was twilight now. Would it be too early to run back with your tail between your legs? Were you so weak that you had to give up? 

“That’ll be 50$.” the driver grunted, growing impatient with your slow movement.

You baulked and shoved the bill into his hand. Out of spite, you took your time to get your bags out – making sure you didn’t miss one. You could have sworn you heard him curse as he drove off. Rolling your eyes, you slid your phone out to get to your emails – Lyla had sent you the code to get in. Turning your flashlight on the keypad, you punched the code in and continued your trek up the property. It was a long walk that left you huffing. 

Once you met the great doors, you knocked the lion-faced knockers loudly a few times and waited. When you went to try for a second time, it pierced your skin, making you hiss. Your finger slipped into your mouth and you sucked. 

The door swung open to reveal a fashionable dress auburn-haired woman with heart-shaped sunglasses. She grinned at you. All sharp, white teeth. “Hello! Aren't you an earlier riser?”

You bristled. “Pardon?”

“Are these your bags?” She turned her head inside the mansion and whistled. “I’ll get Ben to bring them in.”

Lyla was the assistant of the owner of the house. A real recluse, she claimed. You didn’t mind. They had paid you a freaking signing bonus when you agreed. Who gave signing bonuses to caretakers? Dumb rich people. This guy could be a troll for all you cared. As long as each salary came with the flourish of that, you could never meet the man. 

“It's more of a managerial position really.” Lyla clarified after showing you the lion’s share of the house. “Ben takes care of the heavy lifting. Or Peter – he doesn’t show up much though, new father and all that.”

“We have cameras in the common areas. Bedrooms and baths are off limits of course. You’ll get access to them.”

“So, Mr. Stone just wants me to look after the place? Make sure it's clean and in order?”

Lyla stilled, causing you to bump into her. Her pale face twitched. “Mr. O’Hara. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Sorry. It’s just the name of the estate –”

Lyla shook her head. “Don’t make that mistake again.”

“My bad.”

The tour continued on silently. Lyla stopped at the West Wing, where a portrait of a young family hung. They were dressed in regalia from at least three centuries ago. It was of two beautiful boys, a stately-looking woman and a cold-faced man. You shivered. You hoped the man was not Mr O’Hara.

“Don’t worry,” Lyla seemed to read your mind. Her pointer finger landed on the taller of the two boys. “That’s Mr O’Hara.”

You relaxed. Even though it was an old photo, the bright-eyed kid couldn’t be too different from the man who had just hired yourself out to. 

Right?

***

Miguel felt warm.

For the first time in a century, he felt the warmth of you in the walls of his prison. It was like feeling the sun again. Like tasting wine, luscious and dark. You were home. He hadn’t risen yet. His meal sat by his window, eyes glossed over with compulsion. Miguel didn’t want to see you without eating. It had been so long after all. So very long without your touch, the brush of your lips, the scent of your hair, the feel of your pussy.

He throbbed with want for you. 

Rising from his coffin, his talons fell. Piercing two holes in the side of his meal’s neck, Miguel made sure to drink his fill until it was cold and listless. His fangs, his fangs he would keep for you. 

It was funny how it started. He had run into you while on a hunt. Well, you hadn’t noticed of course. You had been on a date, smelling of want and looking like sin in red. He wasn’t worthy of you. But that man touched you and lips had planted on your skin – he was lucky Miguel hadn’t killed him right then and there. He had been too caught up in you. Looking at you. Seeing you. Flesh and fire before him. The curls of your hair, the flare of your hips, the drag of your voice and the thrill of your laughter.

That man did not deserve any of that.

All of that belonged to him. 

In the computer age, everything lay at his fingertips. He found you with ease. Found where you lived. Who you were now. Everything that the web of connections could provide. He knew what books you read, what songs you liked, your favourite bands and flower. 

He also knew you needed him. You were twenty-five and unemployed, living with your parents and your art wasn’t selling as you’d liked. How that desperation clung to you, how that desperation made you sweet to him. 

A gurgling sound distracted him. 

Sneering, he looked at his feet to see the meal had not totally died. Rolling his eyes, he tore the heart out of its chest and sucked the remaining blood. He cursed. 

Now he’d have to shower before seeing you. What a nuisance.

After cleaning off the blood, he watched the surveillance footage of Lyla giving you the door and waited until she’d left you alone like he’d asked to find you. He didn’t want an interloper. He wanted you alone to create a repertoire. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he checked his teeth in the mirror — all traces of blood were gone. His talons were retracted, fangs disappeared but his eyes were still red from feeding. Would that freak you? He didn’t want to change it.

Tapping his smartwatch, he ordered Lyla to bring him a pair of contacts. 

“Why? Won’t it just dissolve in a few hours?” 

“Because I said so.”

“Well, now I’m not gonna bring them on principle.”

Miguel snapped. “Lyla…please bring the goddamn contacts.”

“They’re already in your room, fearless creator. Vanity drawer to the left.”

Miguel switched the watch off. Carefully, he placed the contacts onto his eyes. They stung a little but he only needed it for a few hours. They would be long dissolved and by then his eyes would return to their true brown. 

You were beautiful in the kitchen. Hair tied up in a bun ontop of your head. Messy curls sweep to your forehead. Lips, pinked and plumb moving as you chewed. You seemed to try to make yourself seem smaller. Crouching over the plate of chicken salad Lyla had prepared for you. She couldn’t cook – his golem, but she tried. They had so few human guests these days after all.

Miguel cleared his throat, making you jolt and stare at him with big eyes. Your lashes fluttered, and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood. “Oh, hello! You must be Mr. O’Hara.”

Your offered hand hung for a moment. He eyed it. Bare, delicate, your nails sharpened to a humanly acceptable point. He realised he’d been staring for longer than necessary and took it, glad he fed so his body warm. Your hand slipped in with ease. He gripped it and shook it, saying your name. “Call me Miguel. It’s nice to meet you. Lyla gave you the grounds tour?”

“Oh...no, she, uh, showed me the house and my quarters but not the grounds.” You titled your head, looking out the window. “I figured it was too dark out, no?”

Excellent. “We have very good lights. If you’re finished eating, I can give you the tour myself.”

“Yes! Definitely.” So eager. How promising.

***

Mr. O’Hara – no, Miguel, led you out by placing a hand on the small of your back. It was large and spanning and brushed against the rise of your ass before it fell to his side again and he resumed a respectable distance. He smelt of sandalwood and citrus. An oud wafted from him. This immaculately dressed older man with lines on his face creating dimension. He couldn’t be much older than you, but everything about him seemed grown whereas you seemed like a child playing dress up in adulthood. 

The grounds were massive. Three acres he’d said. There was a small rose garden that led out to a private lake. A family mausoleum that made you shutter when you passed it. Arched trees bent over the manicured green. The entire place was immaculate. 

What on earth did they need you for?

“Did the pass caretaker retire?”

Miguel shook his head. A small fence came into view. You saw dried-up shrubs and trees, barren spots and a small shed. “She passed.”

“My condolences,” you whispered softly, fingers brushing along his arm to comfort him briefly. “What is this?”

“It used to be a greenhouse.”

There was nothing green about the space. Clearing your throat, you let Miguel guide you back to the house. It was late now. You grew tired. So, very tired. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” His eyes peered curiously at her. She swore they flashed red but that may have been her weariness showing. “I hope you can be comfortable here.”

His gaze was intense. You found it difficult to look away – it caused a dizzying effect on you. Turning away, Miguel and you went back into the house and he escorted you to your quarters. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m really excited to dig in.”

He smiled – all white teeth. “No. I’m pleased to have you here. You have no idea how much.”

When you finally closed your door you let out a slight squeal of excitement. Biting your lower lip, you traced your fingers along the door. You had not expected Mr. O’Hara to look like that. Sure, he was certainly a mature man. The lines on his face told you that he was at least mid-thirties and the way he carried himself like a grown man would. 

God. You didn’t know how you were going to make it out working with such a specimen. You could barely keep it together on the walk! Running your hand over your hair, you went to your laptop bag and pulled the small notebook out. You googled your new boss, disappointed to find nothing much. There was one link that had his name, a record from an archive three hundred years ago. When you clicked it, it bounced back. 

Frustrated, you closed it and decided to just go to bed. 

Weeks passed by, and a monolith of activity passed. You devoted your all to the house but particularly the greenhouse at the back of the property beside the lake. It became a passion project of yours. Lyla and Ben were helpful of course – they made sure that you got all the aid and materials you needed to realise your vision. 

You became closer to the other members of the house. Lyla was kind and a good guide for you. Miguel was something.

It was not that you had an extensive working history but you were quite sure the interest he seemed to pay to you and your tasks were a little extra attention. In some regard, it unnerved you. But in another, you liked the praise and appreciation you received for every task completed. You also didn’t mind being in close proximity to him. There was no denying that Miguel had become a crush of yours and the star of your private fantasies.

Look at him. All harsh angles and sharpness, but his actions, his words were rose petal soft. God. He was a delicious man.

Another thing that struck you as strange was the utter loneliness of the house when the sun was up. When they had called themselves nocturnal creatures, you had merely thought it meant that they slept very late or worked very late in the evening. You were wrong though – they were completely gone during the day. In the afternoons they rose, bright and colourful as your energy dwindled down. 

“Techies,” Lyla had explained. “We work best at night – what can we say!”

It felt like bullshit but the pay was too good for you to make it your business. By the beginning of your third month, you know the place like the back of your hand. Well – most of it but for the wing Lyla had warned you against. One particularly slow day temptation had gotten the better of you. Could your curiosity be blamed for your next act? You crept into the area, floorboard creaking as you looked. It was not a different hallway than the others. 

A painting sat at the edge – but it was too poorly lit for you to see from your end. Squinting, you walked closer. The painting held a tear. It was a woman no doubt, soft-featured but you only saw up to her lower lip on which sat a mole. Something pulled at you. 

You stretched forward, fingertips brushing the dried oil and hanging paper. Pushing it up to see the face, your breathe hitched at the sight. 

The hairs at the back of your neck stood up and your stomach turned. You ran back to the other half of the house, heart speeding in your chest to jump through your ribs. You closed your door – the feeling of your skin getting ready to crawl off your body not leaving. You rubbed your ribs beneath your bosom. 

Everything about that had felt wrong. 

Since you began working here – you hadn’t taken a weekend off. Packing your bag hurriedly, you made a call to your mother, placing her on speaker. It rang for only a few moments.

“Hello, little stranger.”

“Mom – I, I need to come home.”

The panic in your voice set her voice on edge. “Baby? Is everything alright at your job?”

“I just got a bad feeling, Mom. I just need to come home.”

“Okay. Call an Uber.” Logic was your mother’s failsafe in times of duress. 

You shook your head. Ubers didn’t get this far out. You would have to walk a mile into the town to order one or call a taxi. “No. They won’t come here. I’ll head to town and catch something.”

“Call me when you’re there. Okay?” Your mother cautioned. 

“Okay...I will.”

Packing your things took longer than anticipated. You looked at your watch – it was almost five. It usually got dark around six. Shouldering your haversack and duffel bag, you snuck out of the estate and made your walk down the winding road to the town. 

Your bags felt heavy and the road took forever. Eventually, you found a bus stop. It was just about twilight now. The blue sky became a warm orange. Warm day dying into a cool evening. 

You sighed, back hitting the seat of the bench. The app told you the next bus to town was coming in the next twelve minutes. You just needed one ride to the inner city and there you could easily get an Uber home. 

Closing your eyes, you felt relaxed for the first time in an hour. 

You were safe. You were going home. 

***

He knew you were missing the moment the sun had set. 

Miguel had stretched the entire expanse of the property – searching everywhere for you. All of your things were gone from your quarters. Even your dirty laundry was gone. It was still full of your scent. He dug his nose into the rumpled sheets. Lilac and Lily. His talons dug through them – he picked up notes of fear and curiosity. Fear? What had made you fearful?

Miguel went to the abandoned wing. Your scent filled the air. Had you been snooping little girl? The painting. You’d seen your first iteration from so long ago. 

“Lyla,” Miguel roared. “I want everyone on the ground looking for her. She doesn’t leave this town – do you hear me?”

“Louder than necessary but okay.”

He drove from the estate, through the town until he picked up your scent. His talons dug into the steering. Rage fuelled him like no other. Had you really thought you could leave? He thought he could be patient, be kind, and wait you out. Then you left. 

What made you think you had the right?

His journey halted. Miguel retracted his talons and exited, fangs extended as you sat leaning back on a bus bench. About half a mile ahead, he could hear the incoming sound of the bus. You would get the chance. 

“Where do you think you’re going, mi sol?”

You jumped up, eyes wide. “Miguel! How did you?”

“I can find you anywhere.” He said gruffly. “You leave without notice at all your jobs?”

“I, uh, I was just taking the weekend off.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re lying to me. You were snooping. Come back with me.”

“I’m not going back.” You snapped. “I don’t know what’s going on in that place but it's not natural.”

Miguel grew tired but he knew he couldn’t be heavy-handed. He had to be smart about this. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that go to your family. But know on Monday you’ll still have a job and a home with us.”

You were so easy to lie to that he almost felt bad.

The bus came and he fell back, watching you leave. The bus moved slowly down the dusty road. It was a long ride back to town. He tapped his watch and made a phone call. “Lyla. I need an accident. Now.”

“Fatal or fatale?”

He sighed. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“Well, she doesn’t seem to be in the mood for you either.”

“Crash the damn bus, Lyla, now.”

“Already sent something that way, bossman.”

“Ayudame dios.”

Keeping up with the bus wasn’t a problem. Through the woodlands, he could see a creation jumping through – all fur and bolts, his favourite hairy bot crashing into the bus from the front, making the driver stop immediately. The wolf sat growing, padding its way to the front sidewheels before he punctured it with his teeth tearing through. The bus leaned to its side, dipping. He watched, from his parked spot, morbidly as the great machine broke the side window, paw reaching in. He heard you scream and smelt the faint scent of your blood. 

Miguel decided it had gone too far then, chasing the creature off. 

The driver of the bus came out first, assessing the damages. You shivered, trembling as you climbed down with your bags on your shoulders. You had been crying. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks. “How long until someone gets out here.”

The driver scratched his head. “Best luck you got is to hitchhike. They’ll come get me in an hour or two. Sorry, darling.”

That was his cue. Miguel started the car and drove by slowly. It was tinted so you excitedly jumped up and down, glad to think it was a kindly stranger. As if he would leave you to be picked up by some ill-thinking stranger.

He stopped, rolling the windows down. “Need a ride?”

You looked stiff with fear. The driver, however, beamed at him. “Oh, sure young man. This lady is heading into town. Think you can give her a ride?”

“Sure I can.” He unlocked the door, pushing it open. Miguel smiled at her, showing his sharp teeth. “Get in.”

Nodding, you hurriedly got into the vehicle. Your curly hair fell to your face as glossy eyes watched him. Miguel turned the radio on and a storm warning came out. 

“What are you?”

“Let’s get back to the estate and then I can explain.” Miguel made a sharp U-Turn and drove past the wreckage, racing back to the property. 

He could smell your fear, the hint of your blood, he looked down seeing a little blood blooming beneath your white dress. It formed a little cloud. He hissed, he hadn’t meant for you to get hurt. “Are you in pain?”

You kissed your teeth instead of responding to him. He sighed. He had expected that – you always, without fail, had a bad attitude when he fucked up. Miguel cursed himself, he should have removed that painting. Why hadn’t he thought clearly? “I didn’t want it to come to this – if you had just let me explain.”

“What is there to explain?”

The estate was coming into view now. Rising like a terrible moon on the horizon.

“It wasn’t you in the painting.” He clarified. “Well, not you. A version of you.”

He punched the code in, the gates opening as he drove up and slamming shut behind the two of you. “That doesn’t make any sense, Miguel.”

You clutched your bags, walking ahead of him as you entered the house. You set them down and Miguel smelt your blood more. “Let me fix you up. Please.”

You flinched but allowed him to lead you to the other side of the house into the very wing that had made you run. Miguel tucked his hands into his pockets. Watching you carefully step ahead. He tried hard not to look at your ass, the switch and sway of the hefty cheeks but he tried to keep his mind on task and out of the gutter.

Which was hard since you looked and smelt like you.

“Are you human?”

“No.”

You gasped, wrapping your arms around you. “Okay.”

Miguel could positively hear your mind working. You turned to look at him, eyes narrowed as if to find the answer in his face. Miguel decided to make it easy on you. He opened his mouth, fangs dropped. 

“Shit!”

“Shit.”

A familiar door came up. His hand settled on your waist, stopping you from going further. He felt you shiver under his touch. The faint scent of your arousal wafting upward. His gums shivered. 

“C’mon,” his voice was gruff. “It's right through here.”

It had been decades since Miguel had let anyone but Lyla in. Having you here – where he slept, fed, and worked as a sort of rawness he had missed. He had missed you. Miguel had learned to love this new version of you, you sang as you worked along the house. Danced to pop songs and cooked in the early mornings before the sun rose. 

“Sit here.” he directed you to a chaise lounge, eyes gazing back. “Take the dress off.”

Your lips quivered with a mounting argument but common sense seemed to reign for a moment as you slipped it off. Just watching you made him harden. The black cups of your bra barely keep the fat of your tits in, through the thin lace, he could see the puckered areolas of your breasts. The high waist of your thong dug into the subtle curve of your hourglass figure.

Merida. 

Miguel set the tools down on the bed and cleaned the wound. It wasn’t too deep, just a flesh wound that didn’t need stitches. He brought his thumb to his fang and nicked the skin, pressing the open hole to your wound he smeared it with blood. 

“Jesus Christ…that’s a health code violation.”

He snorted, leaning forward and licking it clean. After his saliva had wiped it off, not even a cut remained. “All better, mi sol.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sn.” he translated. “You’re my sun. Always have been.”

“So you’re a vampire.”

“I’m a vampire.”

You hummed. “And the woman who looks like me in the painting?”

“My wife when I was human.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m a version of her?”

“One of many.”

“Did you kill them?”

“God no.” The idea made his skin burn. “I could never, never hurt you.”

“But you’re a vampire, Miguel. What kind of promise is that?”

“Every time you’ve been in my reach, I loved you until you left me. Until old age took you or until sickness took you.”

Miguel fell to his knees resting his head on your lap. Your face read on incredulity but the fear had vanished from your scent. Curiosity with hints of want. 

“I’m going back to my room.” You stated, picking up your bloodied dress. “And tomorrow night, we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

***

You couldn’t sleep. When you got back to your room, you shower and change. Texting your mom to know you’re alright. You try to listen to music. To watch a movie. To read but nothing gets you sleep. 

Perhaps it's simply a side-effect of finding out your work for vampires. 

Rain began to pour outside, it was a soothing sound – you blushed as another thought came to mind. There was another way to get you to sleep. Opening your door, you peek outside, making sure the hallway was clear.

Closing your door, you twist the look and step out of your nightshirt and slide your panties off your hips. Digging into one of your bags, tucked at the very bottom was your prize. The blue vibrator stuck out to you. Catching your lower lip with your teeth, you sat at the edge of your bed. Raising one leg and keeping the other down, your legs were spread. 

Your thumb rose the speed to your usual one as you teased your clitoris with it. Eyes closed, you imagined a familiar scenario. Your back against a wall, legs hooked by a faceless strong man. He would take his time with you first. Fucking a thick cock in and out of your wet cunt. 

Your head fell back, as the man in your imagination sped up, fucking you harder. Back hitting the wall. As your height came – you murmured a name and a face appeared in your imagination. 

“Miguel.”

Your climax was instant, spraying wetness onto the edge of the bed, a few droplets dampening the carpet. You set the vibrator aside, collapsing onto the bed. Hands roamed up and down the length of your body, and you vibrated with desire – Miguel’s hands would be bigger than yours, rubbing along your figure, grabbing and biting. He would want you. He would let it be known how much he needed you. 

Your fingers went back to your pussy, rubbing the sticky substance about before slipping a finger in. His fingers would spread you better. Fuck you better. You were sure. 

“You look delicious, mi sol.”

Eyes flickered open – Miguel stood at your door with glowing red eyes and mouth parted in hunger as he stared. His hair was not gelled as usual, falling curls making him look dishevelled. Shamelessly, you added a second finger. The wet sounds grew louder. In the quickness of a blink, he appeared in front of you. He squatted in front of your pussy – inches from your furious fingering.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come.”

You snapped like a whip. Miguel growled before you, eyes never leaving your wanton form. “Tell me I can touch you.”

“You can touch me.” you whimpered.

He sighed, a hand resting on the mound of your pussy. His thumb stroked your clit. “Tell me I can kiss you, mi cara.”

“Kiss me.”

Miguel’s lips planted themselves on the folds of your pussy. He kissed and sucked, tonguing the insides of you while he strummed your clit. He took his time. Savouring the flavours of your pussy, moaning as he ate and tasted every crevice of you. 

Your fingers threaded his curly hair, gripping them as you ground against his face. His lips sucked on your clit, his hand moving from your mound to your thigh to keep your legs open while two of his thick fingers sawed into you. 

Messily, you sprayed his face, hips moving maddeningly against his pretty face. Miguel sucked it down, licking and nipping at your trembling centre. When he rose, his face was shiny and he grinned down at you. 

“Say you want this.”

How could you not? “I need this.”

You watched with earnestness as he pulled his pants down, slipping them off. His T-shirt went next. His body was better than you had imagined. The bounce of his thick cock. Begging to be made shiny with your pussy.

“Spread yourself for me, baby. Let me see this pretty little pussy.”

Your fingers spread yourself, you watched as he stroked himself, coating the large member with pre-cum. He bowed his head, spitting on your wet cunt. Miguel’s thumb rubbed the saliva in, using two of his fingers to open the weeping carven. Slowly he entered you – his thickness making you gasp. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, moaning as he bottomed out. You whimpered, groaning as he started to move. Your legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You’re doing so good, mi sol. Taking my cock so deep.”

His hips snapped, taking his time as you grew used to him. Miguel was certainly bigger than any toy you owned. His cock dragged along you like he was making sure you took him so deep you didn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Such a good girl. Mi vida. Mi luz.” His hand went to your throat, squeezing it slowly as his eyes stayed on your face. Memorising every O your lips made. It was disconcerting. But when his hips sped up, shaking the bed and making you mewl – you couldn’t care less. 

Miguel’s head bowed, lips to your neck as he kissed his way down to your breasts. You felt his teeth graze the soft flesh of your breasts. He didn’t have to say what he wanted. You wanted it too, you could feel the tremble of your upcoming orgasm. 

“Do it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Teeth sinking into the flesh and sucking. You creamed his cock, shouting obscenities as your orgasm shuddered through your entire body. Stars dotted your eyes, your toes curled and your bite your tongue so hard it bled.

Miguel’s hips went faster, hips snapping hard into you that it pained you ever so slightly. His cock twitched with an especially vicious plunge, painting your walls with his cum. Fangs retracting, Miguel licked your nipple, lips kissing it as he held you close. 

The high of it all slowly died down. You felt the thickness of his cock and the fullness of his seed. Your fingers traced along his arm. “I’m guessing you’ve been hearing me most nights for the past three months.”

He kissed your sternum and then your lips. It was a passionate kiss. And you realised – your first kiss. How backwards the two of you had done everything. How unjust – because it seemed Miguel was a damned good kisser.

 “And every night I touched myself to your sound.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought. Miguel smirked. “Aren’t you sore?”

“I’ll worry about that later.”

“As you wish.”

***

“So you’re sure everything is alright now?”

You rolled your eyes, reassuring your mother for the fifth today. It had been a solid week since you’d left and returned. Your mother still didn’t believe it was totally consensually – despite the fact that you had invited her and she’d come and see that you were totally alive and well. 

“You can’t blame your mother for worrying.”

“I know.” Your eyes flickered outside the greenhouse. It was night now. The other members of the house would be up soon. Your mother and you finished talking soon after. It seemed like on cue as you finished the call Miguel came into the greenhouse. Pulling off your muddy gloves, you smiled at him. At your side in and second he kissed your forehead and set his hands around your waist. 

“Hello, mi luz.”

“Hi, baby.” You kissed his mouth. “Did you feed yet?”

He hummed a confirmation, caging you against the desk. Miguel picked up a seed packing, explaining it. “Hibiscus? I don’t think those grew here.”

“Well, they’re not native,” you said. Slipping out from him, you dragged him down to his knees to see a box of soil you’d been working on. “But I’m sure I’ve got the soil mixture down. In the next few months, we’ll see how it goes.”

His hand rubbed along the side of your body. “That’s incredible, baby.”

Standing up, you looked down at him and blushed. “Well, its no machine wolf.”

“Mhmm.” His hands held your hips, squeezing the globes of your ass cheeks. He smacked the fat, groping it unashamedly. His nose pressed to your groin. “You’re an incredible woman. I hope you remember that.”

“Kiss up.”

His eyes flashed, and his lips spread to a mischievous grin. Miguel fell back onto the ground of the greenhouse. You smirked setting legs on either side of your hips. You unbuckled his pants and took his member out. You stroked it, spitting on the tip of it, before rubbing up and down. His hand raised your skirt up, a talon stretching out and cutting the side of your panty off. He pulled it off, baring your pussy against the rough material of your jeans. 

Hips raised, Miguel pulled you onto his cock, grinning as you whimpered at the sudden intrusion of his thickness. Your hands pressed to his hard chest, crying as he fucked up into you. 

Yes, you thought, eyes rolling back, everything was more than alright.

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[shrimplymoray]

Hi

Can i request a Deimos x reader , where Deimos suprise the reader for his/her/their Birthday please?

( Since my Birthday is soon and i simp for Deimos, i would aprecciate if you do this TwT)

I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, I'VE HAD SOME TROUBLES WITH LIFE AND GOT STUCK ON THE PREVIOUS REQUEST!! Hopefully this is still on time, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! *Note: since u didn't specify, imma write it as GN but feel free to request again if u want other pronouns or something more specific!

Deimos x Reader - Birthday Surprise!

It was no surprise to the average Status Quo member that Deimos was acting odd. He was especially chatty about his oh so lovely partner, and how he was excited to show them something, and yet he never did so to them, face to face. To the less close to him, this was odd at its finest. I mean, Deimos? Not dropping whatever he wanted to share you the second you appeared? Is he going clinically insane? But it only took a couple days for him to drag everyone into his big plan. Your birthday was coming up. And he basically thought it would be so fucking funny to pull a super duper surprise on you and see how you reacted to it. It was no surprise that the only thing he seemed to love at par with you yourself was... well, your reactions, of course. Although it was noticeable him shifting focus a bit, and his "peculiar" inquires about your tastes and... in general, all you liked and disliked, you knew very well that man could not focus on only one thing at a time, so you pushed the thought to the back of your head, not even realizing the dates passing. It took only but you to open your eyes after being poked awake, on a day you forgotten how special it was, for the big toothy grin of your boyfriend to meet you. "Mornin' cutie." His voice showed an excitement that was... suspicious. "Hey... Dei? Why did ya wake me up... What hour even is it?" "Don't worry bout the details. I have something to show ya." As you sat down and blinked the sleep out of yourself, you were met with what Deimos was holding. "Breakfast in Bed? Are you trying to smoothern me up for something, bae?" The teasing in your tone didn't go unnoticed, as he chuckled before replying "Maybe~ you'll have to wait and see~" It took you to finish your breakfast and chat with Deimos to realize how quiet everything was. For Dei to be awake, it would usually mean Sanford was also awake, and he wasn't exactly the quiet type of guy... "... So what hours is it again?" " Uhh... An hour? Anyway, why don't ya stretch those legs of ya, and get some of ya pretty lil style up so we can get ya day started?" He was... getting more and more suspicious by the minute at this point, but it was honestly kinda fun to follow Deimos on his shenanigans, and since no one was dead yet (you hoped), why not indulge him a bit? You pushed him out to change, and when you opened the door... "I'm ready- Dei what the fuck?" Wherever the hell he got the blindfold, it made you raise an eyebrow. "Well... It's a very special day, and I think it deserves a very special surprise? C'mon, baby~" His attempt at puppy eyes didn't usually work, but... maybe it was the sleep still in your body, but he looked so damn cute, you sighed. "Just this time... And I want an I Owe You after this..." "fine by me!" he tied the blindfold, taking care to not mess your hair too much, and started guiding you around. As you walked, you heard whispers, and smelled a familiar scent. He put you sitting in a chair and, after a bit of tension in the silence, the blindfold was undone to be met with... a giant cake? wait... "... DEIMOS? YOU DID NOT." "Actually he managed to convince me to do it, chucklehead." San burst from behind the monstrosity with his loud as a boom voice and laughter. It took a bit for you to process it, and you kept staring from Deimos to the cake and back at Deimos. "Wait... are ya thinking i did just this? Ya so cute~ After we eat some of San's Cake, ya have a mission in the base." "A... Mission?" "Find all of the stuff i hid for ya~ Good luck cutie~!" He didn't give you much time to process the information, before you were yelling his name again. And there it was. His favorite stuff in the world: the way you reacted. I hope this is good, again, so sorry for being late!! Hope you have/had/will have a great Birthday!!

[faun-fauna]

i hate highschool

Ughuyuh

I had to wake up at 4 fucking 30

For once I didn't wear a mask.. it was interesting. Usually I wear it for the feeling of security. I felt fine (someone said I looked weird ;w;)

I really liked my outfit though

There's only two freshmen in my geometry class. A kid I hate and me. I don't really like it like that.

My Spanish class is super full. We need more desks. Only one junior, rest are freshmen. I have 3rd lunch cause Spanish is my 5th period (B317)

I'm fine with my lunch period cause I have a decent amount of friends.

Honors history also has too many people. He specifically said he only wants to be called Thor. He also told us to research his religion for homework TwT

I got to Eng H seven minutes before class ended. I accidentally walked into the SPED class because it had the same number- a teacher told me to go there

I had the basement first (Eng) which sucked going up to history (3rd floor)

Biology was fine. Though a kid who somehow got into honors (IDFK HOW) called the teacher a slur T_T

The biology teacher was sweet. I like her. She was telling us about how she burned her hand in biology.

Don't really wanna do the science fair but it's required for honors. I also don't wanna cut open a frog, I think I'd cry. I really like frogs.

My art teacher touched me which was kinda weird ("I see we already have some artists in this class!") she was my favorite art teacher's art teacher. Art was fine though. I didn't particularly enjoy the assignment, but it's fine. I drew a bit in my school sketchbook.

I enjoy my Spanish teacher. She reminds me of señora. She said most people barely pass her class (eihhihhhgh) she used to live in Puerto Rico. We have her class for an hour and she said we can never leave the class ;w; and it's very specific- she will not let us touch the door.

We headed over to the middle school after highschool. Saw our teachers. Funn. I saw 2 of my favorites. Gr8 social studies and art. I miss them lol. Señora wasn't there, sad.

My sweater was fucking hot as HELLLL and my backpack is so fucking heavy for no reason I'm gonna break my FUCKING BACK. I DON'T EVEN HAVE A LOT OF STUFF

I'm a bit jealous of other kids. Even though they have honors, they have so many friends. Every class, everyone is friends with each other, everyone has their close friends. I don't understand why I couldn't have that too? I feel like it always happens to me. I never get anyone to be with. It's been like this for so long. I got lucky for 8th, I really did, but it just sucks. I really hate it. Because, already, I know I'll be that ONE kid that no one wants to work with. The one who always just stands awkwardly, waiting for everyone to pick their partners so I'm put with the last person who obviously doesn't want to fucking work with me. It's not like I'm a loner. I HAVE friends. A lot of them. Why can't I just have them for some? My BEST FRIEND got more classes with my friends than me, and he's not really friends with them. It's just upsetting, I guess. I feel isolated, almost? I have one class with a friend. Yay, I guess. But it's like. I'd feel so much better if it was at least 2 or 3. T-T

This is really complainy, I know, but I hate feeling like I'm being backed into that lonely corner like always. It's happened a lot, I guess I'm just kinda sick of it.

Today was really tiring. Maybe because I had to get up early, or maybe it was just mentally tiring. I don't know??????????????

I don't really wanna do my homework. It's nothing much but I just don't want to in general.

A while later we had a picnic. That was really fun. Chaotic, too. That part was fun. I recorded it a lot on my friend's phone - like a rap battle and hide and seek. Also, throwing cupcakes .. we cleaned it up. Yay.

I'll do my homework later .w. ughhugu

[lady-lycany]

Had a nightmare last night, that made me not wanting to wake up, so I accidentally slept for 9½ hours TwT

I'll try to keep it short lol

I was going to school and brought some of my tarantulas with me for a presentation and when I opened the lid to the enclosure of my Balfouri, she bit me, so I closed the lid quickly and placed it back carefully to the others. I started to feel dizzy after a while and my body started to hurt, kinda like when you have a high fever. So I had to call my mom, so she would get me out of school to a doc. I got an injection and started to feel better- or good enough, to get my tarantulas from school to bring them home again. But in the time I was gone, a btch out of my class, released all tarantulas somewhere in the school building and didn't want to tell me where. I first thought btw, she only released the Balfouri, while I was searching in panic for her, until I found another one of mine. At this point, my blood boiled up. I went to that btch, grabbed her by the collar and punched her repeatedly onto the nose and eyes as hard as I could for revenge (until she stopped moving lol... didn't have one of these dreams for a LONG time... I think that proves, how much I love my babies) When my anger calmed a little down, I kept searching and grabbed some cups to find and catch the other t's. The most hurting find was my Irminia, my first tarantula who has the biggest place in my heart. The btch interrupted her, while she was molting, so while she was crawling, the old skin of her abdoman was still haning onto the new one and I could see that she wouldn't survive this, due to the disturbance... My heart was shattered. I still collected her carefully to put her in a box and ran around the building to find the other ones... (that's why I didn't wanna wake up cuz I wanted to find all of them first lol) I've never been more happy to look over to the shelf, knowing that all my babies are safe and sound. They'll all get a nice treat today 🥺🤧❤

[sintiva]

just the two of us..// ｡* lumberjack!reiner x blackfem!reader

｡*:･summary: just a hunky man tending to his needy wife 😮‍💨

｡*:･cw: established relationship, nipple play/sucking, body worship if you squint, dirty talk, size kink, fingering, penetrative sex, cervix fucking, creampie... lmk if I missed anything 🫶🏽

｡*:･notes: respectfully bringing this back, cause yeah, also tagging @eiflawriting👩🏽‍🦯 ac: @/uriellebeaupre15 on twt

lumberjack!reiner who starts his day off early every single morning. he sets his alarm for five; a quiet one that doesn’t wake you because he’s a light sleeper, and wakes up as soon as he hears the light chime. he goes to brush his teeth and wash his face, sometimes mistaking your products for his own because he’s too drowsy to function.

lumberjack!reiner who gives you a soft smooch on your lips — sometimes he’s a bit selfish and slips his tongue past your puffy lips cause he’s so intrigued with you. you get prettier by the day. it gets harder to pull away from the kiss every day, but he has to stop before he earns himself a painful erection. he carefully slips on his dark denim jeans and a white vest. one that barely covers his chest and would soon be dampened by the mass of sweat he concurs as he chops wood. he wraps a dark forest green flannel around his waist and trudges out of the room with his heavy work boots in his hand.

lumberjack!reiner who can’t get over how delicate his house looks, because of how enchanting it is. tapestries hung from nearly every wall, there’s incense burners scattered all over. you have cute dream catchers lining the ceiling; some paintings and little figurines and gnome decorations littered everywhere. you're his cute little fairy who just loves things to be pretty and full. a nice warm sun cascades into the house shining a golden overcast onto the house. everything lights up and brings him an overwhelming sense of peace. it makes him giggle that he’s found himself to be with such a delicate charm like yourself.

lumberjack!reiner whose very healthy and beefy. he has to bend over to reach into the fridge to pull out the bowl of overnight oats that you prepared for him the night before. you made them with regular steel cut oats, some granola, vanilla almond milk and a dollop of honey. they’re his absolute favorite, and sometimes he’ll boil an egg to have with it in order to get a bit more protein. he sits at the dining table and focuses his eyes on the tree stump and the logs around it that he forget to store from yesterday. he rolls his eyes and huffs a big breath, because that’ll take up more of his time — more of his precious time from you.

lumberjack!reiner who washes his dish and sets out to go and chop some wood, he heads over to the storage barn you guys have that sits a bit close to the house, when he realized how much you loved to gawk at him while he worked he made sure that the barn was close. he returns from it with his big ole’ goggles sitting on his face and his axe in hand. reiner’s real strong so picking up stumps is easy for him. he decides to go light today and chop about 15, since he chopped nearly 40 yesterday. he was so sore from yesterday that you thought he’d take a break and go easy today — which he was. he usually chops for about four hours so today would be a breeze.

lumberjack!reiner whose grunts get louder by the hour as he cuts down the stumps. by now it’s 6:30 and you’re waking up yourself. you hear his grunts and groans and your eyes immediately shoot open because only you know how much you love to watch your husband cut the wood. you quickly slip on your house shoes and run into the bathroom to take care of your morning breath. you gargle mouthwash and place little dots of moisturizer all over your skin. you shimmy into your kitchen to get a good look at him through the window and you're instantly melting.

lumberjack!reiner whose vest now sticks to his skin, but he’s slowly peeling it off. even that sole action has his biceps, pecks and veins bulging all over. your mouth instantly waters and you feel your knees buckle. you see the sweat that slips in between the divets of his abs as he runs his big, beefy hand down his face to get rid of some sweat. your sweet cunny aches at the site of him so big and strong. he’s so well built and fine you just can’t believe that he’s your handsome hubby. all yours

lumberjack!reiner whose eyes nearly disappear when he smiles so hard from seeing you run outside in your night gown and head scarf. “mornin’, darlin. did you sleep well?” he grins. “mhmph, i did.” you nod your head eagerly and walk closer to him.  you grip onto his arms and get on your tippy toes, puckering your lips so he’d give you a kiss. “did you miss me?” he smirked, barely pulling his lips away so you could feel him mouth the words against your lips. 

“you should’ve woken me up,” you huff, “you know how much i love to watch you do your man stuff.” you pout, two toned lips forming the prettiest pout that he can’t just help to kiss. “i know, i’d just hate to wake you up from your sleep, especially when you sleep so beautifully.” the rasp in his voice and his giant calloused hand that rubs your cheek has your heart skating around your chest.

“w-well from now on wake me up, okay?”

“pretty please?” you bat your lashes and run your hand along his abdomen, nearly folding at the feeling. his body is rock hard — solid and reflects a true sign of his continuous long days of work. “i will, darlin’,” he smirks, “just don’t get mad at me if i can’t bring myself to do it.”

“reiii, stop being so perfect and caring” you pout again. you don’t know if it’s the sweat that trickles down his skin, or the strew of a mess his hair is in, or honestly how much bigger he’s gotten, but you can’t get enough of him. you press your arms together — squeeze ‘em tight along your chest so that the fat of them pours over the low neck line of your night gown. “tell me you’ll wake me up before you start working in the morning.”

you catch a glimpse of him gawking at your breast before he licks his lips and lowers them to press against the shell of your ear. “i think you need me to do something more than that, darlin’,” he whsipers kindly before dropping his axe and wrapping his rough fingers around your throat. “what do i need, rei?” you wrap your hands around his wrist, you need both hands to get a good hold of it. he squeezes a bit tighter, feeling the chords of them vibrate as you gulp down your spit.

“need a good fucking. that’s what you need,” he breathes, “gonna let me fuck this little pussy of yours?” and he won’t wait for an answer. you paw at his chest and that’s an answer in itself, since he rendered your vocals useless. he drops his hands and situates them right under your butt to pick you up.

reiner picks you up with such ease it’s scary to think about how much stronger he is than you. most times his actions and body don’t match up. you wonder how such a big, beefy, burly man makes you melt into his touches. you think about how a man with such rough hands can trace such soft and intricate details into your skin that has you throbbing in your center. he places you right on his cutting stump and presses his lips on yours. “not letting you go this time.” he breaks the kiss and looks into your eyes.

your irises reel him in and keep him stuck in a trance like an ant stuck in a sweet, sticky pile of honey. he just can’t look away — he won’t look away. with two fingers he pulls the front of your skimpy night gown down, and makes quick work of his tongue. he sucks one of your hardened nipples right into his mouth and subtly “bites” down on it but only with his lips. “ah! rei…” you moan. not only is he skilled with his physique but his mouth’s a piece of work on it’s own.

he places wet kisses along your tits, one’s that form a sloppy heart around your areoles and he finishes off his art by sucking on your nipple; letting the tip of his tongue flick the sensitive bud until your pussy is weeping. your hips buck up as you feel your greedy hole clench around absolutely nothing. “feeling greedy are we?” he pops his mouth right off your nipple with a hard suction. “little thing need some filling does it, sweet heart?” he teases.

you nod your head and spread your legs further apart so he can nuzzle his way in between them. he uses his right hand to hold you up and keep your self situated on the stump by holding onto his shoulders. he’s so much bigger than you, he’s nearly enveloping your whole body and shielding you from the giant forest that resides behind you both. he places his scarry fingers in his mouth — just two of them to coat in his spit, but it’s not like he needed to anyways your folds were glosses in a thick layer of your essence already.

he slips his muscly arm in between your two bodies and flips his wrist so that his fingers can easily slide through you, “already so wet…” he hums. you shiver slightly from the cool wind that shakes the tree leaves. you moan a “mhm”.

“i like to watch you work-” you squeal, he thrusts a big finger inside of you, grazing your hot walls and cutting of any coherent thought. he tickles you, runs his fingers along the ridges of your gooey walls and curls it up. “oh? is that right, darlin?” he crooks a smile and rest his head right in the small crook of your neck. he striking a match as he diligently lets his finger dwell too long in your soft, pulsing heat. the pad of his finger presses perfectly against your spongy spot that sits right at the top, it’s soft and is warm to the touch. it’s his favorite spot to abuse with his big fingers and giant cock.

“rei-reiii,” you drool, a thin drop of saliva falls out the corner of your mouth as your body begins to curl up. he instantly yanks your thighs back open, pressing his fingers into the fat of your thighs. he feels your arousal slowly seep out, your insides grow increasingly warmer as his finger thumps against your g-spot. “feels like your pussy’s cryin’, sweet heart.”

“need me to stuff it up so it stops?” he pouts at your face and bumps his nose against yours. he knows your about to cum when you buck your hips up and grind against his fingers a bit harder. “come on, can’t cum if you don’t answer…” he grows stern; though it’s only a facade, because he can feel a fiery heat churning low in his groin. he feels the tip of his cock throb when you can only whine back a sweet, “wan’ you inside.”

“all you had to do was ask, darlin.” he kisses your neck, and pulls his slicked up finger out. reiner locks your arms behind his neck as he works to unbuckle that thick belt that holds his jeans up. he quickly pushes his pants down and leaves them right at his ankles. you look down and watch how his thighs look as they ripple with every step, or change of footing he makes. “so, so big rei.” you gently suck on his neck and bring him a bit closer.

you hear him chuckle as he dips his hands into his brief’s and gives his cock a couple languid strokes. his tips twitches profusely as he swipes his thumb over the slit, coating his length in a sheen of pre. he scoots closer to your body, one hands is lining up the thick head of his cock with your gooey entrance and the other is ok your hip making sure he doesn’t fuck you off the stump. “ready for me, darlin?”

he doesn’t really wait, because you always get so nervous as you wait for his thick intrusion. he bends his knees and slips the fat tip of his cock into your messy pussy. his dick curves up and always slides against your insides in the rightest ways. you feel him breaching you, he’s nearly halfway in and you clamp down on him. “don’t wanna let me in?” he groans; feeling the near suffocation of his cock inside of you. “i-i do,” you stutter, “you’re ‘st too big.”

“you say that,” he grunts, and with a snap of his hips he’s sheathed himself entirely in, “but you take it so well.” the force of his hips knocks the air from your lungs and nearly knocks you off the stump. “ooh- fuck!” your face screws in pure delight as you feel the mass of him fill you up. there’s no space left and he grins in satisfaction as your nails dig into the great expanse of his back. he fucks you with a purpose that only he can muster.

he further pushes your body into the stump making you feel even smaller as his dick rams into you pussy. you grip onto him tighter and your moans float all through the trees, they bounce around the forest and come slamming back into your own ears. “you’re so loud,” he teases, “gonna make someone hear how good i’m makin’ ya feel.” there’s nobody for a couple miles, thought it seems as if he tries to fuck you so hard till someone does hear.

the underside of his cock pulses and his big breeder balls just wind up so tight each time they smack against you. he switches up his stroke going painfully slow or brutally fast. he can never keep a rhythm cause he’ll cum too quick. “mm… you always like to tease.” you whimper. his cock presses into your cervix at your comment making you flinch from the feeling.

“oh, do i?”

he cocks his brow and rolls his hips. he’s completely inside you and he doesn’t plan on pulling out. your toes curl in your house hoesand your legs lock around his waist. you dig the back of your heels into his back edging him in so much deeper, more than you can take.

“rei-,” you moan. he can tell by the pitchy volume you’re close to cumming. not only that, but your poor little pussy feels so battered and full, you just can’t help but fall apart from your hubby’s cock. he leans over you and lets his hands grip along the rounded edge of the stump for stability. he pistons his hips, pumping himself through your folds so fast because he feels his nerve about to break. all of his weight is nearly on-top of you making it impossible for your to escape his sharp thrust.

“fu- mmph… fuckkk, babe!“ you scream out. his thrust have become sharper and he’s caging you into his body to trap you. when he gets like this, taken over with a form of ecstasy that can only be released when he cums; you realize you can’t go anywhere. the lustful grunts and the lewd squelching of your pussy makes his heart beat heavy in his chest. his lip is held securely between his teeth as he listens to how your pretty moans make it seem as if his cock could bulge any bigger.

he feels the liquid begin to dribble out the head of his cock before he’s biting down onto your shoulder. the thick vein that settles at the underside of his cock twitches as he cums deep into your slippery walls. his balls wind up tight, and he clenches his fist tighter along the stump as he ruts all of his creamy, hot release into his favorite person. nothing better than morning where he gets to fill up his pretty fairy.

“feel that,” he groans, “feel me cumming inside. that's what this little pussy does to me.” and you can’t even respond, because feeling his cum slosh around inside of you, and feeling just how deep he plants himself inside makes your release come right after. you whine, sinfully squeezing your legs around his torso. your trembles are long and hard as you feel your pussy throb your orgasm. if someone was around they’d be able to hear the shrill scream you let out as you came on your hubby’s cock.

“it was that good, huh?” he chuckled deeply as he stroked his finger along your cheek. he swore he saw stars in your eyes as you smiled up at him looking like a pure ditz. nothing was on your mind minus the subtle throbbing of his half hardened cock, that still stirred in you as he rocked his hips against you gently. “uh huh…” you gazed at him with a pretty sparkle in your eyes.

he slowly pulled himself out letting his heads of cum dribble out of you slowly. he fixed his pants and patted your head, giggling at your soft fucked out gaze. “just gon’ sit here and look pretty all day?” he laughed. “i can’t move, you gonna pick me up?

you stretched out your arms for him to lift you up and he did. he propped his hands on your waist and nearly flung you up into his arms. he tickled your tummy as he carries you back in the house. “my big strong man.” you praise as he sets you down by the dining table. a deep blush washes over his face before he turns his head away.

“come on, this big strong man says you need to eat. cause i know ya didn’t.” he sighs.

“but i feel so, so full, rei.”

“you play too much,” he chuckles cause he knows exactly what you’re referring to, “that’s not food.”

“okayyy, fineee.”

[jingyismom]

Time for more sex-cursed Lan Wangji!

a messy, self-indulgent spree imported from twt and lightly edited

explicit, wangxian, 9k, canon divergence fix-it

mild dubcon because of the nature of sex curses (but like, they do their best to communicate around it), and cw for brief thoughts of self harm, no other warnings

This curse's origin is mysterious, perhaps politically guided. Someone is trying to throttle Gusu Lan's alliance prospects by removing Lan Wangji's stellar marriageability after Sunshot. It works, after a fashion.

Wei Wuxian is in the Burial Mounds, farming and hardening his heart as the resentment worsens his health, subsisting on memories of Lan Wangji's single visit.

Lan Wangji is at home in Gusu, pining away while they rebuild the Cloud Recesses.

One day, he begins to burn up with unexplained fever.

The healers examine him quickly and thoroughly and determine first that he's been cursed. This is not entirely shocking, but it of course angers the entire sect. Next they test for the curse's nature. It turns out to be a very classic, very coarse type of love curse.

The afflicted will burn up, losing all their sense and senses, and eventually die, if their body's “needs” are not satisfied by the one it craves most.

The healers are disgusted. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are outraged. But Lan Wangji becomes very calm at the news.

Before, he felt anxiety. The urgent desperation of a dying man waiting to be told how to live.

Now he is just waiting to die.

For you see, the choice between throwing himself at another human being—no matter who they may be—and meeting death with dignity, is an easy one.

Everyone else privy to this information disagrees. The argument that follows is short, but heated:

"Well, Wangji?" Lan Qiren begins once the initial furor has died down. "How do you wish to...go about this?"

Lan Wangji, over-warm and aching, looks up at him from the examination bed. Gusu Lan funeral rites are ancient and immutable. He does not understand the question.

Lan Qiren purses his lips and glances around. "We must find the person first," he prompts.

Ah. The person responsible. Yes, Lan Wangji does have business with them before he dies. He stands, only swaying slightly. "I am well enough to exact justice. Let us cast the rebound."

Lan Xichen steps forward then, and gently pushes him back to sitting. "It has been cast. However, justice can wait. Your health must come first."

Lan Wangji looks between his uncle, his brother, and the one doctor allowed to be present. Surely they would not be joking at a time like this.

"I do not understand," he says.

The three exchange a look. "Breaking the curse must be our priority," says Lan Xichen.

Lan Wangji is not sure he heard correctly. But it would be cruel to give him unfounded hope. "I was unaware there was another way."

"...There is not," says Lan Xichen, his gentleness unfailing.

Lan Wangji experiences a moment of deep confusion before the horror sets in.

"You cannot mean this," he says through his shock. "Surely you cannot mean to cast aside so many disciplines at the whim of a base villain."

"The disciplines are a guide," Lan Qiren says, hands behind his back, looking into the distance, "to ensure a life well-lived. They are not meant to inspire martyrdom."

Lan Wangji's mouth falls open. He stares at his uncle, mute with betrayal. He has never heard of any such leeway before, not in regards to disciplines of such a serious nature.

"You can understand, can't you?" Lan Xichen says. "That no rule is more important than your life.”

Lan Wangji disagrees vehemently. "I would not buy my life with such behavior."

Lan Qiren huffs in irritation. "We may perform a marriage in haste, if you wish."

Lan Wangji balks at him. That his uncle should speak so flippantly of...such a thing. It is unimaginable. And besides, forcing a marriage on Wei—on anyone in this way is surely only adding insult to heinous injury.

"I refuse," he says.

Lan Xichen exchanges a look with the doctor, and sits beside him. "Perhaps the other person should be allowed part of that choice."

Ridiculous. "There is no such person." Preventing this course of action is worth one lie, Lan Wangji reasons.

"With respect, Hanguang-jun, if that were true, the curse would not have been able to take hold," says the doctor.

The use of his title feels uncomfortably ironic from a woman who helped deliver him at birth. He glares at her. She smiles tiredly in return.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen says. His tone is beginning to grate on Lan Wangji's raw nerves. "You will at least try, won't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him in disbelief, in anger, in righteous indignation.

"Never," he says.

A hand slaps his shoulder. "Apologies," says the doctor, and the world goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to dark wood beams dappled by lacy sunlight, and a faint smell of char in the air. His head is heavy, his limbs full of lead. He swallows around the dry thickness in his throat.

"Water," comes a familiar voice.

With effort, Lan Wangji sits up. His stomach is roiling, his mind fogged from the coma and the curse both. The doctor, crouching beside him in the carriage, offers him a bowl of water.

He takes it, and asks, "What have you done?"

She sighs.

"My duty," she says, "with the help of your brother."

She draws back the curtain at the carriage entrance, revealing a sea of black, twisted trees and gray tumbled walls.

Lan Wangji's blood freezes in his veins. He just barely stops himself from asking how they knew.

"Why," he asks instead, a much safer question.

She considers him. "Your brother said if he was wrong, he would beg forgiveness afterward. But it couldn't hurt to have an expert in resentment and curses look at you anyway."

A stab of sick embarrassment makes Lan Wangji’s stomach clench.

Has he been so obvious? Is he such a lovesick fool that anyone with eyes can see his shame?

The doctor pats his shoulder gruffly and he flinches, expecting more needles.

"Ah he's your brother, he's bound to know things you don't want him to," she says. "Come on. Out you get."

He allows her to tug him out of the carriage and onto solid ground. The air is stifling with resentment, but he is glad to be free of his bonds. Now he can look for his chance to get away.

There are six Lan disciples flanking them. He eyes them warily, wondering what they know. When the doctor pulls him out of earshot, and pitches her voice low, he is satisfied that they have not been fully informed.

"Your family and I agreed to give you a chance first," she says. "You have 24 hours to take care of this yourself. After that, I will personally tell Wei-gongzi of your brother's message. I have been assured he will not jeopardize your well-being if fully-informed."

Lan Wangji gapes at her. He does not know what he expected to happen, but it was not this...this...mercenary attempt at...forcing...

The curse has weakened him such that he cannot fly his sword. He can hardly walk in a straight line, let alone run. He has very little recourse now that everyone in his life has gone absolutely mad. His heart is racing with the adrenaline of upheaval, of fear, of impending death.

He wrenches his arm from her grasp and stalks off of the road, into the brush. She calls after him, but he does not mean to escape. He cannot manage that alone. Instead, he sits. He takes a deep breath. He sinks into meditation.

"Hanguang-jun," she calls. She approaches, hands on her hips. She sighs. "Well, if it's like that, then there's nothing stopping me from telling him right now."

She turns, and Lan Wangji feels a lurch of helplessness, when a new voice rings clear through the fog.

"Tell what to whom?"

Lan Wangji's eyes snap open. Wei Wuxian is standing on the other side of the carriage, the child A-Yuan in his arms, eyeing the Lan delegation with suspicion. Wen Ning is with him, and the Lan disciples shift nervously just looking at him, but Wei Wuxian sets A-Yuan in his arms, and he leaps away up the mountain.

"Might I assume this little party has come for me?" Wei Wuxian goes on, twirling his flute. His eyes are shrewd and cold, similar to the way they had looked when he had first returned during the war.

At the sight of him, at the sound of his voice, the curse...reacts.

A horrid, uncomfortable shiver of need runs through Lan Wangji's body alongside his own simple relief and joy at seeing Wei Wuxian again, looking relatively well. He fights it, keeping still among the weeds, hoping against hope to go unnoticed.

"Yiling Laozu," the doctor greets him with a deep bow. "We have indeed come to humbly beg your aid."

"I see," he says. "And what will you give me in return?"

The doctor hesitates, clearly discomfited by the context Wei Wuxian is currently unaware of. "We may...discuss that. Once we have informed you of the details."

Wei Wuxian hums, considering. Cold. Detached. "And if I am disinclined to—"

He breaks off. The doctor has moved so that she and Lan Wangji are both in Wei Wuxian's line of sight. Lan Wangji closes his eyes rather than see the moment of recognition, rather than feel the weight of Wei Wuxian's eyes on him, like this.

"Lan Zhan?"

Lan Wangji clamps his jaw shut. It is a struggle not simply to crawl to him.

The renewed ice in Wei Wuxian's voice when next he speaks makes Lan Wangji aware of the warmth with which he had said his name. His curls his shaking hands into fists on his knees.

"What have you done to him?"

The doctor sighs. "We have done nothing. He has been cursed, which is why we brought him here. If you—"

"Daifu," Lan Wangji interrupts, his voice thin.

She stops speaking.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes, but does not look at Wei Wuxian, not yet. If he is careful, and uses his remaining strength correctly, he can perhaps...perhaps guide the situation. Toward escape. With Wei Wuxian's help.

He may have to lie to him. He hopes he will be forgiven, all things considered.

Lan Wangji stands slowly, carefully, considering each movement so as not to reveal the state he is in.

"I will speak with him," he says to the doctor.

She eyes him. "24 hours," she says.

He does not acknowledge this. He thinks they both know it will not come to that, though his idea differs greatly from hers. He judges, from the time they have allotted and his own weakness, that he has perhaps a day and a half, total, to wait them out. Doable, if he is careful and intelligent about it.

He can manage.

He walks over to Wei Wuxian, careful to keep two arm's lengths between them. This close is already too close: a fine, constant tremor has made a home in all of his tightly-locked muscles. He feels the moment his fever begins to rise further. The sides of his throat hurt, the interiors of his ears. He wonders if his hearing will go first, or his eyes.

"Allow me to explain," he says to him.

"Of course," Wei Wuxian answers.

He sounds strange. Cold, still. Lan Wangji wants to look at him, and almost slips, but manages to stop himself. He follows him up the hill, past the wards, through the resentment that clings to them both, now. He keeps his careful distance, following behind.

"What happened?" Wei Wuxian asks, as they walk.

"A curse," Lan Wangji says carefully. "Origin unknown. The rebound has been cast. I did not wish to burden you with this, but they are...they will not listen to reason. Wei Ying, if you would but help me, I would deal with this on my own."

"Oh?"

"I...wish to seek justice. They will not allow it. But you understand. If there is another path off the mountain, if you would show me the way past them, I could—"

Wei Wuxian stops dead, and Lan Wangji, with his eyes in the ground, runs into him. 

For a blazing, agonizing moment, he is touching Wei Wuxian, clinging to him, every element in his body sighing and crying out at once in satisfaction, in the torturous need for more.

He tears himself away, stumbling back, almost falling. Wei Wuxian reaches out as if to catch him, but falters.

"Lan Zhan, you can hardly stand," he says, alarmed, "and you want to go and fight someone?"

Lan Wangji draws himself up taller again, trying hard to stop his shaking. He cannot look at him. He cannot look. He is already dying, now, just from not looking. "It is my right."

"...It is..." Wei Wuxian says at length, watching him closely. "And it still will be once you're well again. Your doctors really couldn't tell what type of curse it is?"

Lan Wangji says nothing, trying to think past the way every inch of his skin feels as if it is burning clean off. The pain of it screams through him, worse than anything he has ever felt. Wei Wuxian is still speaking, but it is hard to make sense of it. When Wei Wuxian begins walking again, slowly, it is all he can do to both follow and stay away from him. This, here, now, is worse than death. If it lasts, he certainly will not be sane when the end finally comes. He lets go of any thoughts of a dignified death.

Fortunately, by the time they reach the cool dark of the cave Wei Wuxian calls home, the pain has subsided to a distant roar. Unfortunately, he hoped never to reach this point. He tries his only play again, unable to think of any new tactic.

"Please show me the way off the mountain," he says without preamble.

Wei Wuxian is quiet for a beat. "You really don't want my help that much?"

Lan Wangji is so confused by this question, and then struck by the irony of it, that he almost begins to laugh. A shivery, jittery feeling fills his chest, and he leans against the nearest solid surface. He wishes he were wearing a loose outer layer over his blue travel robes, the better to hide his shaking. He does not know how to respond.

"You haven't so much as looked at me once since you got here," Wei Wuxian goes on, digging through strange pots and objects on a table, "so I get it. But you'll have to forgive me if I disregard your objection to the kind of work I do, when it comes to your life."

"My life, my life," Lan Wangji mocks, accidentally out loud. Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with his life? He was ready to give it freely in the war, but chance let him keep it. What difference does giving it now in the name of keeping himself clean of shame make? Why will nobody allow him this choice?

"What shame?" Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji buckles at the realization that he has said all of this out loud. He goes to the floor, to his knees.

"Nothing," he says. "The shame of not having warded off such a simple attack."

"Lan Zhan...you want to die because you didn't defend against a curse you didn't know was coming?"

Lan Wangji lapses into silence. He has said too much already. He does not know how to get out of this. He can only...he can only stay quiet. Refuse to speak or move.

"Lan Zhan...I feel like I'm missing something here. I only want to help.”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and stares hard at the floor in front of him. He has rarely ever felt so trapped, so utterly helpless. The extended, full-body pain is dulling his mind by the moment. The hems of Wei Wuxian's robes come into view, and it takes everything in him not to fall forward into him, to plead, to beg. His breath is hitching at random intervals now, his heart tripping as it prepares to fail entirely.

There is a soft gust of air, and an odd prickling sensation across his face.

"Now let's see—oh," Wei Wuxian says. "I...oh."

Lan Wangji wilts at his stilted, awkward tone. He knows now, surely. Can see him truly.

"So that's why you want to leave, and why they won't let you. They want me to find another way to break it, to stop you from...ah."

Lan Wangji sorts through the words, trying to comprehend them.

"Sorry," Wei Wuxian goes on. "I...it's unbreakable, otherwise. A very old, airtight spell. You...will Gusu Lan start a war with me if I do just let you go...ah, handle this the old-fashioned way?"

Comprehension dawns. And with it, a way out.

Lan Wangji rushes to agree. "They—" He cuts off. Will they? If they think Wei Wuxian has willingly let him die, rather than...

He takes a breath. Another. Forces his mind past the endless litany of pleas for relief.

"Show me the way " he says, his words breathless and short, "and then tell Lan-daifu what you have done. And why. But give me time to. Get away. And you will be safe."

Wei Wuxian pauses. "How...ah. How far—how much time?"

Lan Wangji tries hard to come up with an answer for that. His progress will be slow. But he need only find a place to hide.

"Half a day," he hazards.

Wei Wuxian seems to vacillate. "Are you sure you can make it on your own?"

Lan Wangji wants to rage. To weep. To curse himself to the heavens for being so depraved toward so endlessly kind a man. His heart hurts, even as his body strains toward him.

This lie may be the worst he will ever tell.

"I will be fine,” he says.

"Alright." Wei Wuxian sounds unconvinced. "I trust you."

Lan Wangji nearly convulses, holding back a sob. How will he ever be forgiven?

He cannot think of it. Only this, only what comes next. Only keeping Wei Wuxian safe from this mess.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Mn," he manages.

"Would you look at me, now? I haven't...used any demonic cultivation on you. It's safe, I promise I won't. I just. Can't we say goodbye properly?"

Lan Wangji has not moved from the floor. He does not move. He should try. A parting gift. Just one look.

But if he is going to leave. If he is going to succeed. He cannot.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says again, frustrated now.

Lan Wangji does not look. He is so close to freedom from the horrible pull, from the way his very veins are trying to tear themselves free to wrap around Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian steps forward, and Lan Wangji's breath leaves him all at once. Suddenly, there are fingers beneath his jaw, kind but firm, tilting his chin up. He has no choice but to look.

(Inspired by this art.)

Wei Wuxian is there. Tall and strong and perfect, tiredness mixed with something bittersweet on his lovely face. Lan Wangji's entire being melts toward him, a deep, sharp tug from inside his bones, a mindless, helpless, straining need that pushes a low, wanting sound from his throat.

Wei Wuxian snatches his hand away and backs up half a step, staring at him.

"Sorry," he says, blank. Confused. "I thought it was...I didn't realize...sorry."

Lan Wangji, now that he has looked, cannot look away. He has overbalanced without Wei Wuxian's support, fallen forward onto his hands, but he cannot stop looking at him. He will look at him, and keep looking; he prays Wei Wuxian is the last thing he sees before he dies.

The most shameful part of this is that none of it is the curse twisting his thoughts. None of this is. All the curse is doing is making the way he always feels impossible to ignore.

"Wei Ying," his voice implores. He does not mean it to.

Wei Wuxian takes another step back and looks down at the bowl of powder in his hand, confused. "I was certain it was that curse," he says to himself. "If I was wrong, then maybe I could break it..."

Lan Wangji tries to scrape his composure back together. He tries. He tries. His fingers scrape on the rough stone floor. He does not reach out for him. That is something.

Wei Wuxian looks at him again, then hastily away. Lan Wangji does not ever want to know what it is he sees.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, as Lan Wangji shakes, and shakes. "Where...where were you trying to go? I thought you...I thought you were, ah, thinking of a certain someone."

Lan Wangji's arms are weak. They are going to give out. He cannot answer him.

"I'm confused, and I...may have made a mistake," Wei Wuxian goes on, still backing away slowly, "but I just want to help. Can you tell me what was happening before, and what's happening now?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head, and the motion shatters his fragile balance. He falls, and curls tightly around himself in the dirt.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian says, suddenly close.

Lan Wangji sees his hand reach out, then pause, and he can't stop himself from taking hold of it, just to be touching him. His body screams for it, and he gasps raggedly at the contact.

Wei Wuxian wrenches his arm free. Lan Wangji wishes he were dead.

"Fuck," Wei Wuxian mutters to himself. "I...I'm sorry. I made this so much worse, I..."

"No," Lan Wangji rasps. He cannot hear Wei Wuxian berate himself thus. His dignity has now died, and he himself will soon follow. This is all that matters. "Not your fault."

Wei Wuxian huffs, crouching beside him. "It is...at least partially my fault, at this point, I'm pretty sure. You wouldn't be...reacting. Like this. If it weren't. Is...can I...do a few more tests? To check what I got wrong, and maybe—"

"You were not wrong."

He does not mean to say it.

His need to reassure has overridden his sense, and his mind is too slow now to piece together what it will mean before it leaves his mouth. The regret once it does is instantaneous. He tries to curl himself yet smaller in the dirt.

Wei Wuxian is silent. Lan Wangji cannot stop making small, pitiful, pained sounds in the back of his throat. Everything hurts. Everything.

"I don't understand," Wei Wuxian says quietly.

Lan Wangji lies shivering on the floor, arms locked around himself to prevent any more untoward behavior. He cannot take it back. He cannot try to explain. There is nothing he could say, regardless.

"Lan Zhan...but you..."

He can hear Wei Wuxian thinking, but it only registers in the far back of his mind. The rest of his consciousness is taken up by pain, and by ruthless restraint.

"You wanted to leave to get away from me," Wei Wuxian says, finally.

Lan Wangji does not answer. He wishes he had his sword. He would use it now to end this.

Wei Wuxian begins to back away again, and Lan Wangji’s body moves without his permission. He grips the skirt of Wei Wuxian’s robes in his fist and drags himself closer, pressing his cheek to Wei Wuxian's knee.

Shameful. Wanton. The small part of himself that is still aware berates the action. But he cannot let go. He cannot move away. The only part of him that is not howling with pain is the side of his face pressed to coarse fabric.

"Lan Zhan, you…," Wei Wuxian is trying to gently pry Lan Wangji's fingers from his hem. "You wanted to leave, remember? You don't want...you don't."

"Want," Lan Wangji croaks, pressing closer. "Wanted to spare you."

"Ah, Lan Zhan...I...I'm still not sure it's that specific curse, it could...there could be other..."

"It is," Lan Wangji says, half-crawling up Wei Wuxian's leg. He wants to stop himself. It is impossible.

"Lan Zhan...you...you shouldn't—"

"Stop me," Lan Wangji pleads, nuzzling against Wei Wuxian's thigh, "Wei Ying, I can't...please. Stop me."

There is a long near-silence filled with harsh breaths, in which Lan Wangji is almost certain he imagines the light touch of fingers brushing his mussed hair back from his forehead. Then Wei Wuxian speaks.

"No," he says. "You'll die, if I do. Lan Zhan. I won't let that happen."

He touches Lan Wangji's face. Lan Wangji whimpers into him.

He knows this will break the fragile repairs they have made to their friendship. He will likely never see him again, at least not on good terms. The thought makes him feel ill. He should protest. Refuse. Flee. He can do exactly none of these things. He reaches for Wei Wuxian's wrist, to hold his hand to his face, but Wei Wuxian flinches away.

"You can't...Lan Zhan. I'm going to help you," he says, "but you have to...you can't...you can't touch me."

Lan Wangji feels another tight clench of shame. He nods against his leg. He understands: he knows any small part of this is too much to ask, let alone bearing his unwelcome, curse-fevered grasping.

"Okay," says Wei Wuxian. He slides his fingers beneath Lan Wangji’s chin again, tipping his face up.

He looks so uncertain. So beautiful in the dim light. Lan Wangji wants to weep with it.

"Lan Zhan, I know it doesn't count for much like this, but you have to tell me. You have to tell me what you need."

Lan Wangji turns his head, pressing his face between Wei Wuxian's thigh and stomach, trying to reach into him, to feel more of him, to stop hurting just enough to think. It does not work.

"You," he breathes, into the scent of earth, and stringent soap, and Wei Wuxian.

A harsh, uneven breath ghosts across his hair, and Wei Wuxian's hands grip his shoulders. He thinks he is about to be pushed away again, but instead Wei Wuxian pulls him up, pulls him close, folds him into his embrace.

Lan Wangji sobs into his shoulder, trying at once to get closer and to hold himself apart, instinct demanding, even now, that he try to conceal his obvious, disgraceful hardness. His muscles quake under the strain of doing both and neither, and Wei Wuxian smooths one hand down his back, pressing him close, pressing them flush. Lan Wangji chokes back a shocked sound.

"Shh," Wei Wuxian soothes. "It's alright."

It is not alright. It is the end of the thing Lan Wangji holds most dear.

But he does not have it in him to argue. He is shifting against him, his overheated body begging for touch, indeed for ravishment. He is mindless with it. The pain is not subsiding but slipping sideways into something more, something different, something necessary.

He is on his knees on hard stone, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this: sweetly, hazily, with and without hope. But never like this. Never sick with remorse, with need, dying and demanding and defiling. His deepest desire twisted into a nightmare.

He whimpers again, his lips finding the soft coolness of Wei Wuxian's throat. Wei Wuxian jerks away again, and Lan Wangji fists his hands tighter at his sides, trying, trying not to overstep again.

"I—sorry," he gasps out. He will never be able to apologize enough. But he will try.

"Don't apologize," says Wei Wuxian. "I—"

He cuts himself off. Lan Wangji does not have enough sense to wonder why. In the same moment, one of his thighs gives under the strain, and he falls against him heavily. They tip over, to the floor, and he reaches out on instinct to brace them both. When he is again conscious of himself, Wei Wuxian is lying on top of him, breathing hard, both of Lan Wangji's wrists pinned to the floor in one hand. Lan Wangji arches against him inadvertently, and turns his face into his own bicep.

"Sorry, I...so sorry," he pants, his hips flexing, searching for friction. "I have...no control...”

"I know," Wei Wuxian says, "I know, I shouldn't have..." he swallows hard. "I'm going to keep you like this. Can I?"

Lan Wangji nods frantically, his eyes shut tight. He does not care. Anything that he can do to make this any less invasive for Wei Wuxian, he will do.

Wei Wuxian pulls away then, his hold still firm on Lan Wangji's wrists. Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stop moving, to stop searching for touch, to stop making such a disgusting spectacle of himself, but to no avail. What feels like centuries later, he hears the telltale sounds of talisman activation. He is too far gone in his pain to look up, to see what they are. He simply lies there, pinned and writhing, his breath catching in his throat. The sounds it makes are small, pitiful, desperate.

Just like him.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian leans back over him, a considering look in his eye. His hand hovers at Lan Wangjis belt.

"I—should I..."

"Yes," pleads Lan Wangji.

He needs Wei Wuxian's skin on his skin. He does not know how discerning the curse is about what happens now, but it feels as if he will die without it. Wei Wuxian takes what looks like a fortifying breath and unties the belt. Lan Wangji, unable to help, instead hinders the process with his ceaseless movement. But Wei Wuxian manages it with deft hands, and immediately unties each layer of robes in quick succession until Lan Wangji’s chest and stomach are bare.

The cool air of the cave does not soothe his burning. It burns like ice instead. Lan Wangji shivers, an ugly whine escaping him.

"What," Wei Wuxian asks, pausing, "what is it?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. He will bear it. He will not make demands.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, "you need to talk to me, I...I don't want to make this even worse, or, or draw it out longer."

Something small and dark crumples in Lan Wangji's chest. He does not want that either. He will need to speak. To ask.

"Hurts," he says, rough and thick.

"Where?"

"...Not...not touching me."

Wei Wuxian makes a distressed noise and lays both his palms flat over Lan Wangji's ribs. Lan Wangji groans, pressing up into them.

"Please," he whispers, helpless. "Please."

"Oh, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian murmurs, something sad like regret. He leans closer and slides one hand down. Lan Wangji shudders under him. "I'm just going to..."

Lan Wangji nods again, holding his breath to stop the whines from escaping the back of his throat.

Wei Wuxian unties Lan Wangji's trousers and slips his hand inside. Clever fingers wrap hesitantly around him, and he bucks up into them with an obscene moan. It is minor relief from the most consuming pain he has ever felt, and it is simultaneously the most intense pleasure he has ever experienced. All of these sensations, coexisting in his fallible human body, feel likely to rip him apart.

"Wei Ying," he moans again, when Wei Wuxian moves his hand.

He gasps for air, his body twisting into it, his whole being searching for Wei Wuxian. He makes another piteous sound, the torment of it all overwhelming. Wei Wuxian leans down against him then, his own robes open, pressing them skin to skin.

Lan Wangji sobs. It is something. It is something. The pain abates somewhat, and he sighs, turning toward him, his mouth brushing Wei Wuxian's hair. He has the wherewithal now to fight the urge to kiss his head properly, his face, anything he can reach. He holds himself still beneath him instead. And Wei Wuxian touches him, and touches him. The incomprehensible pleasure builds, and builds, until Lan Wangji cannot breathe. But it does not break.

Something almost like soft lips brushes his throat.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says into his ear, "this, is this...will this be enough?"

The pleasure is just another kind of pain, now. Lan Wangji shakes his head as sweat rolls off of him, as he tries and fails to get enough air to speak.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. "What, then?"

Lan Wangji's body knows what it needs. But he does not want to tell.

"Come on, Lan Zhan, after all this? Don't get shy on me now."

He misses the joking tone he is aiming for, but the pure, unmistakable Wei Wuxian-ness of the tease sends a surge of genuine desire through Lan Wangji. He wraps his legs around Wei Wuxian's hips and pulls him down. Wei Wuxian breathes in sharply.

"You just...you want...but only..."

"Please," says Lan Wangji, barely voiced. "In—" he cannot say it. "Please."

"Ah," Wei Wuxian whispers, into his skin. "If—are you sure?"

Lan Wangji whines. He wishes he were not so very sure. He wishes he were not asking Wei Wuxian to do something so intimate, so extreme. He wishes Wei Wuxian had let him die before it ever came to this.

"Alright Lan Zhan, just hold—hold on," he says, and is gone.

Lan Wangji clamps his mouth shut on a scream as the agony slams back into him, worse even than before.

Not soon enough, Wei Wuxian returns to divest him of his boots, socks and trousers. Lan Wangji fights him without meaning to, trying to keep his knees curled up to his chest, trying to minimize the hurt. Wei Wuxian is briskly patient, handling him with aching care he does not deserve.

And then he is upon him, chest and stomach, hips and thighs, smooth and hard and exquisite. Lan Wangji almost forgets the pain in the rush of gratitude, of solace. Their robes trail off them both, gathering dust as they move together in halting fits and starts.

"Don't let me hurt you, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian grits out, a strong hand lifting one of Lan Wangji's thighs by the back of the knee.

It is nonsense. He could not hurt Lan Wangji any more than this. And Lan Wangji could not stop him now if he did.

But the kindness. Even in this. Tears prick at Lan Wangji's eyes. He will miss him. He will miss all of Wei Wuxian with all of himself. He will never stop missing him. He will never move past this regret as long as he lives. How could he? Every breath he draws will be by the grace of Wei Wuxian.

Suddenly there is slick pressure against him, against his most private of places, and he gasps, loud and wretched. Wei Wuxian exhales, uneven and deep, and pushes in, in, in. Slowly. So slowly. Lan Wangji bites down hard on his lip to keep from begging for it. His arms are pinned, as are his hips, Wei Wuxian holding him steady, holding him still. Lan Wangji loses all sense. There is only the weight of Wei Wuxian, the full, stinging press of him, the searing pain, the devastating euphoria of being this close, and yet so very far in every way that counts.

Ages pass before Wei Wuxian is fully seated inside him. By then Lan Wangji's breaths are wet and shallow; scraping, desolate things. He does not know any longer what hurts and what feels good. It is all one and the same. He only knows he needs more, in some primal, wordless way.

He asks with the arch of his back, the squeeze of his thighs. He tries, somehow, to keep quiet, but fails more often than not.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says tightly, "try to relax, I'm going to move. Tell me if it...if it's right."

Lan Wangji manages a loose nod, though he barely understands.

And Wei Wuxian moves. He rolls his hips against him, shifting inside of him, and Lan Wangji groans. Each deep, short thrust pushes air from his lungs, and he lacks the strength to catch it again. It is beyond pleasure. It is ecstatic. To have Wei Wuxian around him, inside him, panting above him. A deep, villainous part of him wants it never to end. The rest of him howls for release.

He is dripping now, steadily, onto his own stomach. He can feel it pooling on his belly, unpleasantly cool. He whimpers between desperate, panting breaths, beyond words.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, breath shivering across Lan Wangji's collarbone, "I can't...can't keep this up, you feel too—" his breath catches, and he pauses. "I'm going to finish. You need to come."

Dimly, distantly, the idea that Wei Wuxian should derive pleasure from this, no matter how perfunctory, gives Lan Wangji a perverse sort of satisfaction. It snuffs out like a candle at the nebulous thought that perhaps in another world, they could have had this for real.

In this world, the fact remains that this has gone on far too long. But Lan Wangji can do nothing about it. He meets Wei Wuxian's thrusts, leans into the pleasure, tries to gain the momentum to go over the edge. He should be able to. It should be easy. He has been so hard for so long, has been given more now than in his absolute wildest and wettest of dreams, and yet he hovers, scant inches away.

Wei Wuxian loses patience, his head dropping to Lan Wangji's shoulder. He grunts softly and fists Lan Wangji's wet cock, quick and merciless. Lan Wangji cries out, shuddering violently with the extended, expansive stimulation, worked both inside and out, helplessly, utterly unmade by Wei Wuxian's touch.

And still he does not crest. He is sobbing steadily now, ugly and jagged, and Wei Wuxian kisses his shoulder, his throat, his cheek.

"Were we wrong?" He asks, breathless. "Lan Zhan please, tell—show me, I...I can't...you...I can't lose you. Lan Zhan?"

Exhausted, Lan Wangji turns his tearstained face toward him, blindly seeking. Perhaps they were all wrong. Perhaps he will die now, like this. And perhaps it is selfish of him, but having heard those words, he finds his regret to be less than it should be. Everything, everything hurts. But Wei Wuxian will miss him, too. Of course he will. They are zhiji. This, miraculously, will not erase that. It is more than he deserves. Wei Wuxian has always been more than he deserves.

Lan Wangji heaves, and writhes, and cries.

Wei Wuxian kisses him. Soft, gloriously cool lips on his.

An odd, fleeting, hollow feeling.

The dam breaks. The pain goes suddenly quiet. Roaring to fullness in its absence is the killing swell of such a long-delayed climax. It is possible that he calls Wei Wuxian's name. It is impossible to know.

The world, again, goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to gray light and distant birdsong. A sharp edge is digging into his shoulder. He shifts, then goes still at the deep ache in his entire body.

He remembers.

"Hanguang-jun should drink this," says a brisk voice to his right.

Wen Qing sits there, watching him. His heart skips a beat and he looks down. But he is fully clothed once more.

Her smile is wry as she holds a cup out to him. Laboriously, he sits up to take it. It is bitter, but familiar. A restorative. He thanks her formally.

She shakes her head. "No need.” She turns to go.

"Wen-guniang," Lan Wangji says. She pauses. "How long has it been gone?"

She turns to stare at him. He knows she knows what he means.

"How? When?"

She looks away. "You'll have to ask him."

The pang of loss he felt upon waking with Wei Wuxian gone speaks for him. "Will he let me?"

 He lies on the slab of rock that serves as Wei Wuxian's bed for too long. It is difficult to tell the passage of time in the Burial Mounds, but it seems slightly brighter than it had...before. He reasons that it could well be the next morning. He wonders if Wei Wuxian slept beside him, then tosses the thought away as gross indulgence. He wonders instead, as he has many times since his last visit, if Wei Wuxian sleeps at all.

First, his excuse to tarry is meditation. He works at it, simultaneously restoring his drained core and healing himself, until the discomfort fades from his every movement to just a specific few.

Once that is done, he has no reason to be idle. But the voice in his head, Wei Wuxian's blisteringly cold one that had called him his proper name all those months ago, keeps him in place. He hears it saying all manner of things in response to seeing him now.

"What more could you possibly want of me?" Wei Wuxian sneers in his mind. And he would be right to do so.

But Lan Wangji does not intend to ask anything of him ever again.

And there is the other thing. The fact that his robes should be uncomfortable, filthy, but they have been cleaned, dried, and arranged back onto his body properly. Comfortably. Almost as if—

He dares not imagine. But at the very least it does not speak of utter contempt.

So he rises. He follows the path Wen Qing told him of. And he does something foolish. He hopes.

After no short while of walking, he comes to a slightly darker, more silent corner of deadened forest. He rounds a bend and sees Wei Wuxian crouched a little ways off, and then hears high, lilting notes as if through water. The energies are strange here, and Wei Wuxian is speaking to with them in their own language.

Lan Wangji approaches until he sees Wei Wuxian go still. He says nothing. Wei Wuxian drops his flute from his lips.

"Are you well?" He asks without rising or turning.

"I am."

Wei Wuxian nods. "Your people are waiting for you."

It is a dismissal. Lan Wangji recognizes this. But he will impose just a little bit longer.

"Your core," he says. Wei Wuxian stands abruptly, still facing away, gripping Chenqing. "Can it be replaced?"

Wei Wuxian whirls to face him, anger and fear warring with the questions on his face.

Lan Wangji has other questions, too. But they do not matter. He is intelligent enough to piece together the cold, empty space where Wei Wuxian's core should be, the tired guilt on Wen Qing's face, and...

"Your scar," he says, dropping his gaze to the scorched earth.

He should not know of it. But he does, now, and he also owes a greater debt than he can ever repay. Wei Wuxian does not respond. How dearly Lan Wangji wants to see his expression. But he will not infringe on any more of his privacy.

The wind howls. He waits.

"You won't tell anybody," Wei Wuxian says uncertainly.

Lan Wangji stiffens. "I will not."

"Nobody told you?"

"Nobody.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, momentarily satisfied.

"You're not going to ask how? Or when?"

Lan Wangji would like to. He would like to know everything of Wei Wuxian, even his sorrow, his pain. But he is not entitled to those things. There is only one point that matters.

"Can it be replaced? Can the procedure be reversed?"

Wei Wuxian sighs. Lan Wangji can tell he does not wish to speak of this.

"So single-minded, Lan Zhan," he scolds, then shakes his head. "The chance of success would be small; the chance of finding a donor, much smaller."

But this is all Lan Wangji hoped to hear. It is enough. He goes to his knees, arms circled in front of his chest.

"Allow me," he says.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian darts forward, trying to pull Lan Wangji up from the ground. Eventually he gives up and goes to his knees in front of him, pushing at his arms. "Lan Zhan, stop this," he says, panicked. "Don't be stupid, stop—Lan Zhan, you can't be serious."

"Please allow me," Lan Wangji repeats, eyes downcast.

"Stop this!" Wei Wuxian shouts. "It can't be done, and I wouldn't take it from you anyway!"

Lan Wangji flinches bodily. He had not considered...but yes. Everything in him is sullied. He bends at the waist, bowing further.

"Apologies for the offense," he says, then snaps his mouth shut. His voice is too obviously strained.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian says, still alarmed.

Lan Wangji needs to leave. He has already overstayed. But he...he has not tried hard enough.

"This debt is too great to repay in one lifetime," he says. "Please inform this one of what he may do to begin."

Wei Wuxian sags, dragging one of Lan Wangji's wrists with him. "Lan Zhan, there is no debt between us."

Lan Wangji only just stops himself from glancing up. He does not understand.

"I owe you my life and more," he says. "You took great pains to save me, even as the situation proved me unworthy of it. I owe—"

"You owe me nothing," Wei Wuxian insists, shaking Lan Wangji's arm. "There were no great pains. Nobody is unworthy. Well...you aren't."

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to protest, but Wei Wuxian speaks over him.

"People have...desires, Lan Zhan. There's nothing unworthy about it."

"But you—"

"Stop," he says. He sounds so, so tired. "If you hadn't been...dying. If we—" He stops. "Just keep my secret," he says, and lets go of his wrist. "And live well."

Lan Wangji closes his eyes. The thought of going back to his home, his life, after this, had not yet occurred to him. It sinks him from his knees to the ground. How can he do this? How can he leave him this way?

"Wei Ying," he pleads. "I must...I must do something. I cannot...I..."

"Why, Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian asks, not unkindly. "You have responsibilities. People to protect, just like me. Live well, and count things even between us. Why not?"

Lan Wangji’s chest caves in. He does not make the sound clawing up his throat.

"You...truly, you must know why," he says. "After... you must know. I would not leave you in need. I could not."

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says sadly. He shuffles forward. Lan Wangji startles at the feel of fingertips on his cheek. "You're too good. But all I need is," he huffs, "political asylum for me and 40 friends? It's not your burden."

Suddenly yet slowly, like the first burst of sunrise, an idea reveals itself on the horizon of Lan Wangji’s mind. It is unorthodox. And likely unwelcome. But it is all he has.

"My uncle made a suggestion," he says. "When my affliction became known. It is true that he did not know what it would mean, but I would hold him to it. If it is not...hateful, to you."

"I don't know what you mean," Wei Wuxian says warily.

Lan Wangji steels himself. "You are perceived as the head of a sect. A proper alliance could protect your people, and Gusu Lan is in need of hands for rebuilding. The person who cast this curse upon me has given the perfect excuse, and made themselves scapegoat. If you would...I would not ask anything of you, if you agreed. It would be a marriage in name only, as you wish it."

Wei Wuxian's silence turns to spluttering. "M—Lan Zh—marriage?? What—how—"

"If the idea is odious, I will not mention it again. But as I said. My uncle suggested it. And under the circumstances, he cannot refuse."

"Your—he—Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, look at me. Look at me, please."

Lan Wangji looks at him. His eyes are wide. Disbelieving. Concerned.

"Your uncle would qi deviate if you even hinted at such a thing," he says. "Gusu Lan is in a precarious enough position, you don't need...I have nothing to offer in return." He pats his lower stomach, empty of spiritual energy, emphatically. “Nothing. Don't be ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous," Lan Wangji argues, certain now that he is right. "You can offer more protection for us, and we can offer legitimacy. The person who cast this curse can be seen to have forced our hands. Has—has forced our hands."

He stops himself. He should not push this. Wei Wuxian is looking at him as if he does not know him.

"You don't want to marry me, Lan Zhan."

This gives Lan Wangji pause. It is a confusing objection, to say the least. He stares, trying to comprehend. He clears his throat. Takes a breath.

"If you are under the impression..." he stops. Drops his eyes once more. "...that the...impetus of the curse. Is the whole of the way I—”

"Demonic cultivation," Wei Wuxian interrupts. "It would be unhealthy. For you. And your elders! They wouldn't let me, not if I were...attached to your sect. To you.”

A fair concern, and one Lan Wangji has been turning over in his own mind as well. "Is this your only objection?"

Wei Wuxian casts about. "Ah..."

Lan Wangji takes one last plunge. "The elders can be reasoned with, compromises can be made. I am not concerned for my health: being near you could never be harmful to me." He hears himself, then, and amends, "Though you need not. Be near me. That is not a condition."

"You would defend this?" Wei Wuxian asks, bemused.

"Defend what?"

"My cultivation path. You..."

Lan Wangji resists a sigh. "I understand the reason, now. And I believe...if you did not object. We could work toward making it safe, without stripping you of what your hard work has created."

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says. He reaches out, then stops.

Lan Wangji stares at his hand, hovering between them. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his eyes, in his tongue.

"Wei Ying."

"You would let me, though?"

His tone is gently mocking. His head is cocked to the side, the edge of a smile playing across his lips. It knocks the breath from Lan Wangji's chest.

"Let you?" He asks, dazed.

"Be near you."

Lan Wangji's heart stops. It is a moment before he can respond.

"I would. Always."

Wei Wuxian takes his hand, and sighs. "You don't owe me this," he says again.

"I do," Lan Wangji counters, off-kilter. "I owe you. And I want to. I would want to, even if—"

He loosens his tight grip on Wei Wuxian's hand. He is saying too much, taking too much, being too much. He settles himself. Finds the words that matter.

"It would be a thing happily given, with no strings attached, should you wish it."

Wei Wuxian laughs strangely. "Lan Zhan, you really..." He shakes his head. "I'd marry you in an instant, you know," says.

Lan Wangji's neck hurts from the speed with which he looks up at him. Hope, warm and liquid, blooms through his limbs.

"But I can't make this decision on my own," Wei Wuxian goes on. "It's not just my life. We have to talk it over with everyone."

"Yes," Lan Wangji says, surprised, and eager now that he sees the possibility of success. Of doing something of use.

"Alright," says Wei Wuxian, a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. "I can't promise...but it...it could work."

"It will," Lan Wangji says, certain that the strength of his conviction alone will carry them through if need be.

He feels strange and dreamlike, confused but heartened by the turn in this conversation. That Wei Wuxian can stand the sight of him, let alone wish to ally with him personally, seems too wonderful to be true. Another Wei Wuxian hallmark.

"But Lan Zhan, no more talk of strings," Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji sobers and nods. It is unseemly. Of course their understanding must be a tacit one, now.

But his hand is suddenly in both of Wei Wuxian's.

"You need to stop feeling guilty," Wei Wuxian says, looking down at it. "If I were your husband...if I were. We could try all that again, but without the impending doom. We could try it again any way we like, any time—all the time—and we'd—"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji interrupts, strangled. His heart is in his throat. He cannot comprehend what he is hearing. His ears, his face, are on fire.

Wei Wuxian smiles down at their hands, one part shy, one part mischief. "I think we could get really good at it, if we had the chance, don't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him. "You..."

"Mn," says Wei Wuxian, meeting his eyes.

He shines so bright, even without any core to speak of. He takes Lan Wangji's breath away.

"I take it back," Wei Wuxian says, his voice suddenly urgent. "I like strings. Mine is that if this happens, I want to be your real husband. In name, in practice, in bed, and in your heart. Because you would be, in mine."

Lan Wangji's voice sticks in his throat. He feels...he feels unreal. He does not know what to do, to say. Perhaps they never broke the curse at all and he has simply gone mad. But Wei Wuxian's fingers stroking his palm, the root-knotted dirt beneath his shins, are real. He sways, unbalanced.

Wei Wuxian reaches out. Catches him. Folds him into his arms for a second time. Lan Wangji's breath shudders out of him.

He is on his knees, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this many ways. But never has it been so real, so full of hope. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in turn, buries his face in his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian huffs. "Jiang Cheng is going to be so angry."

Lan Wangji comes back down to earth. It is true he had not thought of this. He makes to pull away. "How should—"

Wei Wuxian clutches him tighter. "I don't care," he says, "I don't care, we can manage him." He pauses, then speaks more softly. "Maybe...I could see shijie's wedding after all. Or—no. It's too soon, I—"

"Yes," says Lan Wangji. "You will. We will go together."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and lets it out into Lan Wangji's hair.

"Together," he says.

It takes several serious, and at times uncomfortable, discussions, but in the end, Gusu Lan’s Second Jade is indeed thoroughly removed from the marriage pool of the great sects. The curse caster is found and punished. And everybody else lives happily ever after.

The end.

-----

(Thank you for coming on this wildly self-indulgent journey, I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to read some actually nicely-polished, fleshed-out fics by me—including another sex-cursed LWJ—check out my AO3.)

[hehebread]

[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

--

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

--

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

--

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

[lunarreaper-ut]

Resting

(So, remember how I’d said I’d write out the one night Killer fell asleep in Nightmare’s room? Here it is~! I hope this turned out alright TwT)

          Tonight, Killer was in Nightmare’s room again. He’d been visiting the King at least once a week, spending a couple hours listening to Nightmare read, and then bidding him goodnight. Nightmare wasn’t sure why Killer started these late night visits. Perhaps Killer needed a distraction before bed? Nightmare had asked if he was having… well… nightmares.

          Killer grinned a little too wide at the unavoidable pun involving his King’s name. Nightmare didn’t care to hear his answer, deciding that whatever the reason may be, it was of no big concern. Killer was surprisingly pleasant company at night anyway. His typical attitude and sarcasm was toned down, and his conversations became much more serious.

            Not in a bad way of course, but it was one of the few times Nightmare got a glimpse at the thoughts that hid behind the carefree attitude. Killer was insightful, and much smarter than Nightmare had given him credit for. It was nice, being able to talk to him almost as… equals? Companions? No, perhaps not companions… Equals would have to do, until Nightmare thought of a better word.

          “Your Majesty?” Killer’s voice quietly called to the King. Nightmare turned to him, blinking a bit.

          “Ah, pardon me. Lost in thought. What were you saying?” He asked, his tone apologetic. Killer smiled. 

          “Nothing important, Your Majesty. May I ask what you were thinking about?” Killer brought his cup of tea up to his mouth, taking a drink. The two always had tea during their little chats. 

          “...Nothing important…” Nightmare echoed his Guard’s words, raising his own cup to take a drink. Killer chuckled and set the now empty cup down, raising his arms above his head and stretching.

          “Ah well, I suppose I should retire for the night. It was a long day today.” Killer stood up, surprising Nightmare.

          “You’re not going to stay? I was going to read more of the fables you enjoy so much.” Nightmare looked up at Killer, gesturing to the rather large book on his nightstand. Killer paused and looked between the book and Nightmare. His brow bones furrowed and he rubbed the back of his neck.

          “Ah… I would, Your Majesty, but… I am rather tired.” He murmured, a small smile on his face. Nightmare wondered if he ever stopped smiling.

          “...I see.” Nightmare tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Well, good evening then.” He said, picking up said book, and turning to where the two had last left off. The book was a collection of various fables from all across the continent. The two had hardly gotten through half of it yet. Killer took pause on his way out, upon hearing the slightest bit of disappointment in Nightmare’s tone. He thought for a moment.

          “Well… I’m not too tired… Perhaps I could stay to at least finish the last fable we were on? If I am still allowed, Your Majesty…” Killer turned back towards Nightmare, a hand on his chest. Nightmare looked up from the book at him, and seemed to be thinking for a moment. He hummed, and turned back towards the book. Just as Killer thought he was going to be dismissed, Nightmare spoke up.

          “You shouldn’t be so indecisive. Sit then, if you intend to stay.” He said, his voice sounding as if he was scolding a child. Killer smiled and retook his seat beside the bed. Nightmare cleared his throat, and once Killer appeared to be properly situated, began to read. 

          Killer did quite enjoy hearing His Majesty’s voice. It was low, almost sultry, and smooth. Killer could listen to Nightmare for hours. Listening to it was akin to being wrapped in a comforting blanket to Killer. Perhaps that’s why he shouldn’t have stayed. As his King’s voice read, the fable that would be nothing more than a story had anyone else read it, had turned into a soothing lullaby to Killer.

          Killer knew he shouldn’t be dozing off, and fought it as long as he could. He was certain Nightmare would be furious if Killer fell asleep while he was speaking, especially in his room, but Killer had spent all day training. His mind and body were both tired, and how could he resist the siren’s call of sleep when the siren himself was practically singing directly in front of him.

          Killer hadn’t even noticed his eyes had slipped shut, and as his breathing began to even out, the last thought on his mind was a curious one. Was it normal for him to be so entranced by the King of the Night? Killer didn’t have even a moment to answer his own silent question before he’d fallen asleep.

          Nightmare continued to read the fable for a little while longer before he noticed Killer’s lack of commentary. Normally, Killer would have the occasional quiet comment here and there. Usually critiquing the characters’ choices in the story, or a simple pun about something that just happened. Even asking Nightmare what something meant could be expected, but never silence.

          Nightmare looked towards where Killer sat, his mouth open ready to question the quiet Guard, only for him to snap it shut at what he saw. Killer had slumped down into the seat in a way that would normally be uncomfortable, had he not been dead tired. Nightmare watched Killer sleep for a moment, disbelief etched into his features. Killer had said he was tired, but Nightmare didn’t think he was actually that tired.

          Yet the moment Nightmare even slightly hinted he was upset, Killer put that aside to stay… Nightmare wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. He quietly closed the book in his hands, setting it aside and pulled the blankets off of himself, intending to get up to wake the Guard and send him to bed. He would need to apologize for keeping him so late. 

          Nightmare approached the sleeping Killer, and just as he raised his hand to lightly shake his shoulder, Nightmare noticed it. The peaceful expression on Killer’s face as he slept was unlike any expression Nightmare had seen on the typically poker faced Guard. He spent a few moments, simply gazing at Killer’s sleeping face before lightly shaking his head. No need to be creepy, Nightmare, send him to bed and then settle down yourself. 

          Nightmare placed his hand on Killer’s shoulder, and the sleeping Guard’s expression changed slightly. He took a deep breath in and tensed up, and Nightmare took his hand away quickly. The peaceful expression took a moment to come back. Killer must be a light sleeper. Nightmare hesitated to put a hand on him again. Killer never complained about lack of sleep, but Nightmare could tell when he had difficulties. He never thought to ask more than once. 

          Before Nightmare realized what he was doing, he was lifting Killer from the chair, his shadow-like magic making the process easy. To Killer, it probably felt like nothing more than a slight chill on his bones. It was only one night, and Nightmare had insisted on Killer’s stay, even if it wasn’t verbally. Yes, it’s only right Nightmare took responsibility. 

          Nightmare pulled the blankets on the other side of his rather large bed aside, his magic carefully setting Killer down on the plush mattress. The tendrils of shadow removed Killer’s shoes and coat, making him just a bit more comfortable before Nightmare carefully tucked the sleeping Guard in. He sighed softly, moving to the other side of the bed and carefully slipped in beside the Guard. 

          That side of the bed hadn’t seen much use beyond Nightmare setting things aside on it. He hoped it was comfortable enough. Nightmare turned on his side, observing Killer’s face again. He certainly seemed much more comfortable. Nightmare watched the steady rise and fall of Killer’s chest as he slept, and felt his own eyes beginning to droop. 

          It was only one night… 

          Nightmare slept easier that night.

[adonis-koo]

tease

| 13 |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

Word Count: 12k

Previous | Next

Song Mood

Tags: dirty talk, vibrator toy, soft dom!jungkook, daddy kink, thigh riding, begging, penetrative sex, praise kink, the amount of pet names Jungkook uses should honestly be illegal, overstimulation, considerably soft sex, bondage, nipple play, semi dry humping, breathplay, heavy degradation: bitch, whore, slut etc, hair pulling, MC tries to be a brat and quickly finds out that’s a bad idea, rough manhandling, backtalking, pussy slapping, possession kink, punishment, size kink, I guess it’s a little late to clarify: hard dom!jungkook, spanking, vaginal fingering, humiliation, finger fucking, piss kink I’m sorry guys TwT, it’s really not that bad, MC wets herself :(, cock slapping, oral (m & f receiving) cock worship, deepthroating, in conclusion, don’t be a brat

Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter presents them.

Who knew you could be so excited to wake up on two hours of sleep if you had the right motivation. Jungkook for once was acting like a zombie, forcing himself into the shower as you packed your clothes, he had insisted he stay the night at your house so you could get packed up given all that was left was to stop by his apartment and get his suitcase. But still! Despite his constant worry for this weekend you couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

You would be going to Las Vegas, every stripper's dream. Not only that but you’d be arriving earlier to check into your room and get prepared for the weekend, maybe excited wasn’t the right word but it was the only one you could think of. Shoveling last night's late night dinner left overs into your mouth as you danced around the room, Lana Del Rey shamelessly blaring on your speaker, “You got me spinnin’ like a ballerina!”

Jungkook leaned against the doorway, wet hair and a chuckle escaping his lips at the way you pounced around in his sweatshirt, suddenly turning around as your lips quivered into a pout, the sun had barely risen and blue light filled the room yet you could still make out his amused expression as you whined, “Hey don’t laugh at me! This is a good song-” Grabbing his hands you bounced around while fumbling with the lyrics, “You’re the bad boy that I always dreamed of, you're the king and baby I’m the queen of disast- Ow! Koo!” You suddenly whined as he ruffled your hair while laughing.

“You’re so adorable you know that princess?” Jungkook cooed, despite his worry he couldn’t help but smile at your excitement for the trip, whining you tried to push him away as he peppered your hair in kisses, “Need help packing anything?”

Pulling away a little you gave it some thought as he pushed the messy locks of hair from your face as you animatedly puckered your lips in thought, “Oh I know, can you get my laptop charger from my nightstand?” You squeezed out of his arms as you opened the middle drawer of your dresser, hunting down the black mini skirt you were positive you had put in here.

Humming to the music Jungkook walked over as he kneeled down, “Which drawer?” He called out as you huffed in frustration, struggling to close the drawer before opening the top on, this was where your tops where, surely it couldn’t have been up here right?

Unfocused you called back, “Uh- bottom drawer?” Gnawing on your lip you gasped at the sight of the black material you had been searching for, triumphantly pulling it out as you turned around to face Jungkook. Your face suddenly draining at the sight before fumbling, “W-wait…! Not that...drawer....”

“Oh my god.” Jungkook whispered, as you immediately folded into yourself wanting nothing more than to disappear into the void as you set the skirt on the dresser. It was quiet for another moment before you dared to look up again before crying up in embarrassment, “No! Jungkook put that down…! Hey stop laughing!”

You stomped your feet as Jungkook howled out laughing while examining your vibrator, “Holy shit, is this why you’ve been so broke? Babydoll you could have just told me,” You facepalmed as you covered your cheeks, you had accidentally told him the wrong drawer, thus leading him to the discovery of your mass collection of vibrators that you accidentally gained.

“Jungkook…! It’s embarrassing!” You whined stamping your feet again as you turned back around, flustered to hear him howling with laughter again.

Gagging on his own words he inhaled deeply to try and contain himself, “More embarrassing than me finding out you have a toy kink? Jesus baby, these aren’t cheap either, I mean, magic wand, lenina, gess ava.” He let out a whistle as you whined, turning to face him once more looking like a lost puppy, “If you were that needy you should’ve just came to me sweetheart, you know I would’ve been more than happy to help.” He tutted as he stood up fully letting his finger drag against the pastel blue silicon as he licked his lips, “Could’ve done me a favor and sent me a video at least. Bet you look hot as fuck with your legs spread fucking yourself with it.” Your thighs were beginning to become weak and your core becoming hot and sticky as you whined softly, Jungkook menacingly backing you against the wall before pressing a forearm to halfway cage you, “Did you think of me princess?”

Your body was trembling at the sound of him clicking the vibrator to life, the lowest setting humming softly in the silence of the room as he let it drag along your throat slowly, “Asked you a question kitten,” Jungkook’s voice lowered and deepened a little as he growled softly, “Did you think of daddy while playing with yourself?”

“Y-yes daddy.” You whimpered quietly, lips trembling as he circled it softly against your chest, clicking it up a higher setting that caused the hum to become a little harder, the thrum louder and his expression all the more intimidating.

Licking his lips Jungkook finally let a crooked smirk tug on his lips as he dragged the toy down your chest, “Why didn’t you tell daddy baby? You know he loves to play with you princess, loves making that tiny little pussy feel good.” Your hips were beginning to needily buck into the air between you both, having long since felt him and the strong desire to feel him again. Vibrators had been a temporary fix as you had been complaining to Rosé that your fingers just weren’t enough anymore, that’s when she suggested trying a vibrator. And one thing turned into another, and you wanted to explore all different kinds, sizes and shapes.

“Mmm daddy,” You whined softly, your eyes beginning to look doe like and watery when you were being teased, Jungkook clacked his tongue as you obediently answered, “Didn’t wanna bother you, please.”

As reward he slotted his thigh between your legs, your body eagerly grinding against it as you moaned softly, your panties soaked and his sweatshirt riding up to your hips as your clit rubbed in friction with his thigh as you whined softly. Jungkook grabbed onto your chin as he forced you to look at him, “Kitten you’d never bother daddy, look at you all needy for daddy, were toys not enough for that little clit?”

You choked a whine at the thrum of the toy dragging against your stomach, clicking up to the next setting causing the vibration to thrum strongly along your covered skin as your hips excitedly bucked against his thigh, your clit rubbing down and your soaking cunt beginning to form a wet patch over his joggers, “N-No! Need daddy, please…! Daddy please! Need you, need cum.”

Jungkook placed his free hand against your hip in encouragement as your hips rode against him in need as he hushed you, “Shh babydoll, daddy’s going to make that pretty little cunt feel so good. Isn’t that what you want kitten? You want daddy to make you cum all over yourself?”

It was shameful how quick your body was getting worked up and close to orgasming as you whined, hands curling against his shirt as your hips stutter, a loud cry leaving you as he pulled his thigh away.

Your hips needily bucking into nothing but air as your eyes began to water, “Daddy!” He hushed you once more as he tugged along your panties, making them drop in one motion before he grabbed at your left thigh, hauling it up to expose your wet cunt to the chilled air of the room as you whined, “Shhh daddy’s here kitten,” Jungkook pressed little kisses against your neck before letting the vibrator rub gently over your sensitive clit causing a sharp cry to leave your lips, your face burying in his neck with a moan as your hips rolled along the silicon, “Such a good girl for daddy, my poor baby’s cunt has been so needy without daddy’s help hasn’t it?” He rubbed the wand down your clit, slick with arousal as he rubbed along your sweet spot causing a loud whine to leave you as he turned the vibrator onto it’s last setting, “Shh that’s a good girl, my good little kitten, does your clit feel good baby?” Jungkook cooed out as your hips stuttered and you withered against his body with little whines.

Your clit burned and ached and pleasure was beginning to bloom in your body as you whimpered and your nails dug into his shoulders, “A-ah daddy! Daddy! Feels good- mmph! Feels so good daddy please, want cock! Want cock please.”

Your little hole ached to be filled up and fucked until your thighs were shaky, your mind hazed as he pulled the vibrator away from your clit causing a whine to leave your lips, “Does baby need daddy’s cock? Do you need daddys cock to cum babygirl?” Jungkook cooed out as he palmed his hard on, his cock throbbing and aching at the idea of filling you up. Pulling out his fully hardened members he gave the base a few tugs as he forced the moan back in his throat, “Daddy asked you a question princess.”

Wiggling against him you whined as he grabbed at your thigh once more, holding it up as you glanced at him with puppy eyes, “Please daddy, I’ve been good girl! Want cock please! Please!” His dick throbbed and you could see the precum dribbling from his bulbous, thick tip that laid up against his abdominal, positioning himself as best he could he forced the tip inside your unstretched hole.

A whine escaping you as you buried into his neck, “Shh, such a good girl for daddy, my good little kitten. Good little cunt taking daddy’s fat cock so well,” Jungkook praised as he gave a testing little thrust forcing a small whine from your lips as he moaned, pressing the tip of the vibrator back against your clit causing a yelp to escape you, harshly clenching around his thick size as he moaned softly, “Fuck sweetheart, relax, let daddy take care of his princess. I’m going to make you cum as many times as you want kitten.”

Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck as you whined, trying your best to relax as his hips fluidly began to roll against yours, his thick size squeezing tightly inside you as the thrum of the toy forced your hips to tremble, “Shit babygirl,” Jungkook swore against your neck as he began to gently nibble against the soft skin, “Wanted to fuck you so bad you have no idea, to think my precious princess has been playing with her needy cunt all this time when I could’ve helped. You like that baby? You like daddy wanting to play with your pretty pussy?”

Your breathe was beginning to hitch and whines were escaping your throat left and right as your nails dug harshly into his shoulders, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock harshly as your mind focused on the way the toy thrummed into your clit with ease, “D-daddy, cum. Wan’ cum, please! Daddy…!” Tears were beginning to gloss over your eyes as you whined with frustration.

“Does baby need to cum?” Jungkook cooed, letting his cock bury all the way at the base inside of you as you whined out whither against him as he moaned softly into your neck, letting the toy circle around your sensitive bud as he sucked along your neck, “Cum kitten, be a good girl and cum all over daddy’s cock.”

Your walls rapidly clenched around him as squeals left your lips, your orgasm harshly running through your body as you cried out, tears beginning to streak against your cheeks as you babbled incoherently, “That’s it babygirl,” Jungkook cooed, easing you through your orgasm as he turned off the vibrator letting it fall to the ground so he could properly hold you, “Let that little cunt cream all over daddy’s cock.” Grabbing your hips he kept them still as he begin properly thrusting inside you, letting his hips become fluid and slow as you let out high pitched whines in sensitivity, “Shh daddy’s gonna fill that pretty little cunt until it’s dripping with his cum babygirl.”

He held your thigh up higher as you cried out with a sob despite your hips rolling with his as he began to angle his thrusts to hit along your g-spot, sensitive pleasure spiking through your body as you whined, “D-daddy it hurts…!”

“I know you can take it babydoll,” Jungkook growled softly, feeling the wet substance of your tears trickle against his neck as his cock throbbed inside you, “Don’t you want daddy to fill you up with cum? Let everyone know who his little girl belongs too? Mmm fuck kitten let daddy use that pretty cunt to feel good.”

Your walls harshly clenched around him as he used his free hand to gently circle your hypersensitive bud, a moan escaping him at the way you cried and whined, “Daddy! I’m…! Cum..! Cum again…!”

Your thighs were becoming heavy and shakier by the minute as he quickly began dragging his shaft along your g-spot as you cried out, “Oh yeah princess? Are you gonna cum again already? Does daddy’s cock make you feel that good sweetheart? Cum again for daddy.” He forced your next orgasm quicker than the last as he pressed harshly on your clit a mewl escaping your lips as you sobbed out, obediently letting the pleasure heighten in your body.

Jungkook buried his cock to his base inside you, letting his hips grind into yours as he moaned at the way your little hole sucked him inside, hands running along your body as he softly swore, releasing inside you as you felt his hot cum creaming deep inside you just as he promised.

After a few seconds Jungkook let his half hardened cock slip from you as he moaned, tugging you against his body as you sobbed softly, “Shh, you were such a good girl for daddy princess. But you need to let him know when your cunt is getting needy or else he can’t help.” Pressing little kisses against your forehead you whined as he thumbed away your tears with a small chuckle, “My precious baby, we’re bringing some of these to Vegas, let’s sit down and pick two out to take.” Setting you down on his lap he nibbled against your neck once more as he smirked, “Be prepared babygirl, I’m bringing silk ropes too.”

Jungkook couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping his lips. You were so fucking adorable, he couldn’t stop the affectionate gaze even if he wanted too. You had been so excited at the airport despite your whines about why you had to get there so early. He had eventually calmed you down with a snack and coaxed you into taking a nap as best you could. Arms wrapped around his bicep of course when you slept leaned against his shoulder which of course he had to document because you just looked so. fucking. cute.

Even now while bouncing in your seat, the plan had just landed yet nobody was moving yet causing an impatient whine to leave your lips, “Koo! When can we get off the plane.” Your pout didn’t cease as you grabbed his free hand that wasn’t holding his phone, playing with his fingers before measuring your hand against his. How was it possible for his hands to be so big? His fingers not only looked twice as big as yours but you’d even go as far as to say they looked tripled the size, his whole palm looked like it could crush your hand if it wanted too. And briefly you wondered how easier things must have been for him with such long fingers.

“Be patient babygirl,” Jungkook laughed, letting you whine as you continued playing with his fingers, “They’ll announce when we can exit the plane.” One thing you had learned was shockingly Jungkook was fluent in English to which you felt jealous over. You spoke it broken at best and had an easier time reading than speaking, let alone listening.

You nearly jumped out of your seat at the sound of the speaker directing everyone off the plane or so you assumed as Jungkook smiled, shaking his head as he hummed, helping you get the carry on bags before making your way to get the rest of your luggage. Things seemed so lively and bustling here and even in a foreign country where you both were shielded by face masks you weren’t dumb, you could easily see all the foreign girls checking him out making your lips tug into an angry pout beneath your mask.

Arm wrapping around him as he tugged you along with a happy hum not even giving your gesture a second glance. You knew it was wrong to feel jealous, especially when they were only staring but…! He was completely clothed! You could understand girls at Cherry Bomb ogling him when he was stripping that was completely understandable but he was…! They couldn’t even see half of his face!

“What’s up baby? You hungry?” Jungkook attentively glanced down at you as he raised his brows making you whine slightly as you nuzzled your nose into the sleeve of his jacket. Jungkook would tease you relentlessly if he ever found out you were jealous all because girls were glancing at him. Keeping yourself composed you shook your head as you yawned. You had only napped an hour and the jet lag and lack of sleep was beginning to take over your body, “Mm no, just sleepy.”

Jungkook did his best to not coo at you, it was like you were on the cusp of little space that he had been working so hard on getting you to feel comfortable slipping into- especially when in non sexual situations. It seemed the only time you slipped was during sex- and that was great and all but Jungkook didn’t always want you to be in little space all because of it. He wanted to enjoy it non sexually as well, and seeing your sleepy eyes and figure coiled against him had him leaping in victory internally.

Not aware of your childish true intentions.

“Well come on sweetheart, let’s get checked into the hotel and then we can take a nap sounds good?” Jungkook hummed out as you nodded, ready to get out of this god forsaken airport where women kept fluttering their lashes at him.

“You guys could have eaten on your own.” Jungkook rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat, arm curled around your shoulder as you yawned, rubbing your eyes as you pointed at the menu deciding what you wanted. Jungkook had translated for you though technically you could have made out the menu on your own. It was Jimin and Rosé of course who had insisted you all sit down for your ‘last supper’ despite already planning to go out for the night.

The flight had landed in early and it was going to be a busy day tomorrow between doing sound checks, preparing all the tables and chairs and of course the endless amounts of costumes and lingerie, “Oh shut up you just wanna bone Y/n, any other day you’d be volunteering for us to all eat.” Seokjin sipped on his drink as he glanced back at his phone, ignoring Jungkook’s blatant glare.

“I-“

“I mean he is right,” Namjoon shrugged, cutting Jungkook off once more as he scoffed, ruffled as he shuffled against your side obviously not liking being called out on his blatant behavior, “Y/n doesn’t even look that tired outside of jet lag.” It was true to be fair, you were tired but it wasn’t like you were dead. Jungkook had pressed his tongue into his cheek looking mildly annoyed but said nothing in return as the waiter brought back your order.

“Here you go ma’am.” You couldn’t fully understand what the waiter was saying in english but you couldn’t mistake the wink he sent you with a smile a little too friendly to be considered professional, your cheeks immediately flared and gaze dropped to the table before murmuring your thanks in english.

The arm that had been loosely wrapped around you suddenly tightened, though you didn’t understand what he said you could easily make out the uneasy shift in the waiters face as he gave a nervous laugh before nodding, quickly walking off as Rosé tutted, “You didn’t have to be such an ass Jungkook.”

“And he didn’t have to flirt with MY girl in front of me, but he did,” Jungkook scoffed, tugging you a little closer. Your cheeks burning even harder then before...his...his girl...you closed your eyes and before you could even stop yourself you pressed your hands on your face as Jungkook chuckled, “Don’t act shy babygirl, I know you like it.”

This child…! You did like it and that was the problem! Why...why was he saying you were his girl if…! It wasn’t like you were together! Hadn’t you already had this discussion? Just the idea made your cheeks burn as you settled to glance at the table. This wasn’t like before though, back when you both were still struggling to communicate, back when he acted like he owned all of your actions and body. Where his words would have been sneering and angry not only at the waiter but at you. No, this was different and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. What you did know was he was right; of course he was right, you did like being claimed.

Nibbling on your chicken tenders you watched as everyone bantered, snorting at the way Seokjin huffed about not being the most proclaimed handsome stripper at the event, “Don’t you laugh, you know it’s true, if it weren’t for both my handsome face and body this party would be dead.”

Swallowing thickly you chimed in at his words towards you, “Maybe but I’m sure the party could live without the snark and bad jokes.” Everyone was already cackling at your words as you shrugged, pretending to be more interested in your chicken tenders.

Rosé was gagging on her drink as Seokjin looked offended, scoffing out as he placed a hand on his chest, “My jokes are the best!” You could tell people were shooting your loud table glances but you couldn’t muster the will to care as you began to laugh with everyone, “Hey…! Okay listen- listen! How do you introduce a hamburger?”

Jimin and Jungkook were both already groaning as you snorted another laugh, “How?” “Meat patty!” The table erupted in groans as you threw your head back laughing more at them then the bad joke as Seokjin pointed at your basket, “We’re in America and you choose to eat chicken tenders? The vibes are stale.”

Pulling the basket closer you clacked your tongue, tilting your head as you gave a childish glare unappreciative at the unsolicited opinion, “Leave me and my tenders alone asshole.” You watched his mouth gape animatedly as everyone cried out again, “Hey I’m your elder!”

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” You replied in a sing song voice as you all laughed, sipping on your drink as the conversation continued on, eventually cutting in as you began thinking about Seasonella, what was expected of you anyways? “What’s the shower order for Seasonella? I mean, how much performing are we talking about?”

“Soloist’s are usually on, four, five times a night?” Namjoon answered while taking a sip of his drink, “But fillers are usually on two to three times. Unless you’re real popular day one, that usually only happens to the big tit fillers.”

“Dripping wet too,” Jimin clacked his tongue as he added on, your brows instantly raised at their words. First being was Namjoon implying something in that sentence? Secondly wet? Wet as in….

“What?” You furrowed your brows, rubbing the back of your neck as everyone went quiet for a moment, Jungkook awkwardly pressing his lips together as it clicked in your head, your mouth opening and closing several times before finally getting a sentence out, “Oh hell no! Are you serious? We’re stripping stripping. Like, ass naked stripping?”

You felt your throat dry at everyone's confirmation as Hoseok piped in, “That’s the expectation in America, it’s just one less piece of clothing.” You knew he was trying to console you but you couldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Yes it was just a pair of panties but that was your last sense of dignity!

No wonder Jungkook about blew a fuse when he found out you accidentally made the list, sighing he rubbed his forehead as he shrugged, you could tell he still wasn’t happy about this and having the reminder wasn’t helping, “You’re taking it better than I expected.”

Sinking back into your seat you sucked in a breath of air, “Well there’s not a lot I can object too, I mean, we’re in Las Vegas, there’s no going back now. And it is like Hoseok said...I mean I’ve been tripping this long now, what’s losing a pair of panties now? I’m sure it’ll be fine”

Sure you didn’t like the idea, but you also didn’t like the idea of flashing your tits every night when you first started at Cherry Bomb and now your tata’s were always on display. What happens at that hotel, will stay in that hotel though.

“Oh great,” Jungkook replied mirthlessly, “At least you’re feeling good about this because I’m not.” He sunk back into his seat with a childish look on his face making you roll your eyes. Why did he have to look so cute while brooding?

It had been a long time since you all had sat down and ate together and while Jungkook dragged his feet the whole time about it you thought it was great. Tired definitely, but it was fun to say the least. The others insisted on doing some shopping around but you wouldn’t deny the jet lag was beginning to get the better of you, taking note in that Jungkook had excused you both saying you’d all catch up later.

Keeping a hold of your hand you couldn’t help but nibble your lip at the sight, his hand was big...really big and the callouses you were used to brushed along the skin of your smaller hand, his grip firm but not tight or too loose. Just right. Yawning you leaned against him as he checked in at the lobby before leading you up to your room.

Shared room, to be precise.

You scowled at him in the plane when he first told you that he was able to make last minute arrangements so you both would stay together but thinking about it now, you weren’t going to complain anymore. You knew despite his outward appearance he still wasn’t okay with you being here and if it made him feel better knowing you’d be in his room when you weren’t working then you wouldn’t say anything about it.

You wouldn’t lie either, something about sharing a room together made your stomach all warm and fuzzy. You both had gotten changed into more comfortable loungewear and while you wanted nothing more than to bury deep in the thick soft blankets- perks of staying with the most popular stripper- you still had plenty of work to do.

Jungkook had been on his phone, headphones in ears finding his own songs while you were scoping your laptop, headphones also in searching for music to use this weekend. Jungkook had told you choreography wasn’t as dominant in dances here and while you could do it it wasn’t highly stressed.

Groaning he shifted around in his spot before letting his face bury into the open space between your laptop and stomach on your thighs, “What?” You tugged an earbud out of your ear as you glanced down at the brooding dark head of hair, this expression all too familiar.

“Can’t we just fake that you’re sick or something?” Jungkook asked with a muffled voice, his warm breath tickling along your thighs as he nuzzled his nose against the crevice between them. Rolling your eyes despite your soft gaze, it was hard to begrudge him when he was so concerned for you.

Pausing spotify you pulled your other earbud out before letting your hand bury in his soft thick hair, he jolted slightly at the unexpected sensation before relaxing once more, a pleasant noise escaping him at the feeling of your nails gently rubbing along his scalp, “Koo I’ll be fine, look…” You sighed softly as you stroked through his hair, “I know you’re worried, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. So let’s just enjoy ourselves while we can...I mean maybe it’s me but…” You felt the giddy smile tug on your lips as you hummed, “I think it’s cool we’re in Las Vegas, so let’s just enjoy it while we have the chance.”

He gave a childish muffle in objection but didn’t say anything else, looking like a stretched out cat purring at his hair being played with, you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping your lips as you teased, “Do you like your hair being played with?”

“Shut up and keep going.” Jungkook grumbled, maybe a little bit in embarrassment while stretching his arms over your thighs before making himself comfortable. Tenison you hadn’t even realized he had been carrying was beginning to slip from his shoulders as he let out a small yawn, eyes closed and nose nudging at your thighs, “Damn, your thighs make a great pillow baby. Love being close to that cunt.”

He started laughing as you scowled at his words, of course he had to ruin it! Hurriedly setting your laptop on the nightstand as you attempted to try and get him off you as he wrapped onto your legs, “Stop whining, you’re supposed to be my pillow.” He was the only one truly whining though as he tried to keep a hold on you.

“Stop talking about my vagina like it’s a body pillow!” You screeched causing him to snort another laugh as he finally got up, easily rangling you and getting you caged in his arms despite your objection.

“Do I look like an anime nerd to you babydoll? Hm?” You whined at the warm tongue dragging a stripe up your neck, your body warming up as Jungkook’s breath fanned against your ear, “Do you really think I’d treat something as pretty as your cunt like that?”

Whining you wiggled once more, “You were streaming hentai from your phone onto the TV last Thursday!” That caused another laugh to erupt from him as he pulled away from you, unable to stop the laugh from escaping your own lips as you groaned, pressing your hands against your face, “Tentacles? Seriously?”

“Shut up you little shit,” Jungkook growled playfully, fingers suddenly grabbing at your waist, squirming you could feel tears spring into your eyes as you cried for him to stop his merciless tickling, “Nu uh, not until you admit tentacles are at least a little hot.”

“They’re..disgusting! Ow!” You cried out laughing as he continued tickling down your waist, “A-ah! Jungkook! Ah! Fine, they're hot!” You whined as you kicked your feet beneath him. Triumphantly Jungkook leaned up, straddled against your hips as he ran a hand through his hair, smirking down at your figure that was ready to curl up, “They are, but you wanna know what I think is hotter,” He didn’t bother to give you a chance as he grabbed your chin making you look at him as he leaned in a little closer, “You tied in silk rope.”

Your lips began quivering and Jungkook lived to see those pupils blow out all puppy like for him, tutting he gave your cheek a soft pat, “Wait.” It was a soft demand as he stood up, you only curled up into a ball, hugging his pillow against your body as you let out a small whine at the pastel pink silk tie that was revealed from his bag. Jungkook’s gaze softened at the sight of your curled up figure, kneeling down to be at eye level with your figure as he brushed a strand of hair from your face, “Shhh princess, you’re shaking, are you nervous?”

You squeezed his pillow a little tighter, burying into the soft fabric that unfortunately didn’t carry his smell, but rather the hotel fabric softener, “A little…” you murmured timidly as he sighed, sitting on the bed as he let his fingers trace down your face.

“Roll over kitten.” You whined again, squeezing the pillow once more as Jungkook tutted, grabbing your shoulder it didn’t take more force for you to obediently let go and let your back flush against the mattress once more, straddling your hips Jungkook was careful to distribute his weight as he comfortingly ran his hands down your waist, “Look at me sweetheart,” shuffling beneath him your lips twisted into a sulky pout before glancing up at him, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want too, okay babygirl? Just say the word and we’re done,” he squeezed at your skin reassuringly, “Tell you what, how about you give me a safe word? Any word you want princess, it’s yours.”

Letting your gaze drop in surely you thought about it for a moment, shuffling in an attempt to get comfortable once more before feeling your face become hotter, “...April?”

“April?” Jungkook repeated, tilting his head a little, as if not expecting your pick of word to be that. He had heard plenty in his life, most obscure, like a favorite cereal, color, but he had never heard one like this before.

Feeling your face flush you nervously shifted as you murmured, “Y-yeah...um- the month we first met...It- it was Seulgi’s birthday...April.” Jungkook pressed his lips together for a moment, his heart feeling all warm and fuzzy at the distant memory, the moment your fates had been sealed together.

“I love it babydoll.” Jungkook murmured fondly, true to his word he never had a safe word that held sentimental value not just for his sub but for him as well, a girlish smile appeared on your lips as he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead. A sudden whine escaping you at his hands grabbing your wrists, pulling them effortlessly over your head before grabbing the silk ties, “You look so fucking pretty in pink, you know that sweetheart?” Jungkook hummed as he expertly began wrapping the tie around your wrists, securing your binds against the headboard as you gave them a testing tug, your body suddenly warming in excitement at being so laid bare for him even if you were completely dressed.

Jungkook pressed a soft kiss against your neck letting his tongue drag down the warm skin as you let out a breathy whine, teeth nipping at your skin for you to hush despite his hands pushing under your shirt. You squirmed beneath him as you felt your panties beginning to stick to your wet folds as Jungkook pushed your shirt above your chest, your tits soft and on display for his appraising gaze as you whined, tugging at your restraints in futile attempt to cover yourself.

“Nu uh baby, just relax, I’m gonna take such good care of your pretty cunt sweetheart,” Jungkook hushed you as he leaned down letting his tongue drag against your left nipple forcing a whimper to escape your throat, your hips trying to buck into his as he parted his lips, sucking the bud making a breathy moan escape your lips.

“Mmmhp! Jungkook,” you whined as he cupped your other breast in his hand, squeezing gently as his fingers toyed with your hardening nub while sucking against the other.

Jungkook rewardingly lowered his hips letting you excited buck into them searching for his half hardened cock, pinching your right nipple between his fingers making you squeak as you whined, “P-please…!” Letting his lips popped from your tit Jungkook glanced up at you with a lazy smirk, eyes somewhat delirious as if addicted to your taste, “Please what princess?” Your lips trembled at the way his hand brushed over your neck, wrapping around it delicately, thumb stroking your artery, “Use your words baby.”

Your face was getting hotter by the moment, just as you parted your lips he suddenly squeezed your neck airflow cutting off as a loud moan escaped your mouth, “Mmm fuck,” Jungkook grinded his hips against yours, “You like my hand wrapped around that pretty throat baby? You keep moaning like a little bitch everytime I squeeze.” His smirk became more twisted as he parted your legs, letting his hardening cock run against your covered sticky cunt, your sweatpants beginning to show a wet patch.

Your ears felt like they were on fire as you parted your lips to speak once more only for Jungkook to squeeze against your neck once more, a needier moan escaping as your hips rubbed against his, “Look at my pretty little whore,” Jungkook cooed as you cried out a gurgle as he squeezed his thumbs harsher into your artery, his fully hardened cock swollen and imprinted into his sweatpants as he rubbed it along your clit, “You like being all tied up and left to my mercy babygirl? Made to take what I give? You like being forced to choke on your own words?”

Tears were beginning to spring into your eyes as you whined, another gurgle escaping you as he squeezed your neck holding it longer making a strangled moan leave you as your eyes fluttered shut, “Oh my, someone’s little cunt has made a mess hasn’t it?” Jungkook tutted as he released your throat, “Look at your cunt kitten.”

Your lips were trembling and your eyes watery but you felt your lips twitch and without even realizing it you had let out a pathetic bratty whine, you didn’t want to look at the mess you made.

Jungkook’s brows shot up as a scoff left his lips at your attempt to challenge him, roughly grabbed your hair, a whimper escaped you as he yanked it forcing you to look down at your exposed body, “I said: look at your fucking little slutty cunt princess. Are you trying to disobey me now?”

You sobbed as a whimper escaped your lips as you watched his hand harshly slap your throbbing pussy, “No! I don’t wanna!” You gurgled as you struggled against his tight grip on your hair, whines escaping you as he roughly yanked your hair.

Tears beginning to drip down your cheeks as Jungkook sneered, “Well too fucking bad princess, look at this little wet mess you made, what happened to being my good girl huh?” He snapped as he yanked on your hair, your scalp throbbing in pain as a whine escaped your lips making him growl, “Tell me; who does this cunt belong too huh?”

You let out a loud defiant whine, watery eyes glaring as you struggled against your bonds, your mouth faster than your head as you shot back, “Maybe I should ask Jimin.” Your lips suddenly quivered as if realizing just what you had said as Jungkook’s expression twisted from anger to seething. You had royally fucked up.

Your pants completely ruined and wetness soaking through them as Jungkook’s hand made it’s way back up to your throat, roughly squeezing against it making you wheeze as he snarled, “I’m going to fucking ask you again you dumb bitch since you didn’t get it right the right time; Who does this fucking belong too?” Jungkook growled, his hand spanking harshly against your cunt once more as a sob bubbled in your throat despite the whine of defiance, your pussy throbbing in need of stimulation as he slammed his hand down against it once more, “You’re walking on a fine line you slut, keep fucking acting like a brat I dare you. Who does this fucking belong to? Watch.” Jungkook snarled as he forced your legs wider, tears dripping down your cheeks as you rapidly shook your head, “Make me!”

Sneering Jungkook grabbed you by the hair, “Fine you bratty bitch. Watch.” A shriek left your lips as your scalp burned, yanking your head to look at your soiled pants, forced to watched his hand spank against your cunt once more the pain making your walls clench around nothing in excitement as you sobbed, finally cracking as you cried, “It belongs to daddy. A-ah! My pussy belongs to daddy.” He slammed his hand on your cunt once more, this time cupping it as he let your hips rock into his palm.

“That’s right princess,” Jungkook sneered, anger burning in his gaze that had become harsh and domineering, “Your little cunt belongs to daddy, not too Jimin, not too anyone. Just daddy. You’ve been such a disobedient brat and that calls for punishment.” Your lips quivered and tears blurred your stern view of him as you whined.

Jungkook didn’t soften though as he gritted his teeth, “Look at this fucking mess princess, daddy could just slip his fat cock inside you couldn’t he? How could I punish this bratty cunt into behaving?” You squirmed beneath him at the idea, his thumbs hooking around your pants and panties before tugging them down, throwing them over his head without a single care as you whined, attempting to close your legs.

“Don’t you fucking dare try and hide that pretty cunt from daddy, be a good little bitch and keep your little pussy on display.” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your legs as he pried them open again, a whimper leaving you as he forced your glossy cunt on display as you tugged futilely at your restraints, “Someone’s wanting to be a fucking brat today,” Jungkook sneered, letting his fingers run through your slippery folds as you choked out a moan at his fingertips teasing against your clit, his hand suddenly rearing up and slapping down against your exposed cunt once more making a loud cry leave your lips, “Somehow I think you like pissing daddy off, right kitten? You like watching your pussy get spanked?” Your hips nearly met the strong force of his hand as it throbbed in pain, your eyes watery as you whined.

“N-no daddy…! Please! Don’t want my pussy spanked! I’ll be a good girl!” You cried out as he ignored you letting his hand smack against the sensitive skin once more, “A-ah daddy please!” Jungkook paused as he tutted, grabbing your cheeks as he wiped away the fat tears that trickled down your face, “I’m daddy’s good girl! No punishment please!”

“Then why have you been such a fucking brat?” Jungkook gritted his teeth showing his anger, forcing you to keep his stern gaze as he growled, “Show daddy you’re a good girl and use your words, what do you want?” Jungkook asked, keeping hold on your chin as your lips quivered, eyes beginning to water again.

Couldn’t he tell what you wanted? Why did you have to say it? Jungkook clacked his tongue, suddenly grabbing your waist as he managed to roll you over onto your stomach, “Good girls use their words.” You cried out loudly at his hand suddenly slamming against your ass, the sharp sting making your hips buck into the bed, you weren’t even given a chance to speak as he smacked his hand down against your other cheek this time your body squirming as tears dripped down your face, “If you’d use your words I wouldn’t have to punish you. But someone wants to piss daddy off doesn’t she? You like being a little slut? You want to be punished and used like the fucktoy you are?”

You let out a defiant noise, your face scrunching angrily as you took the next spanking, the sharp sting in your ass had your eyes blurring as you growled defiantly, “I’m not daddy’s fucktoy!”

His hand suddenly grabbed full of your hair, roughly yanking it as you cried out, “Are you gonna say that when daddy uses you like one?” He snarled as he used his other hand to slam down against your ass a loud yelp escaping your lips as a red mark in the shape of his hand was surely imprinted, “Do you think this is a fucking game?” He snarled in your ear, “You like being a fucking brat when daddy was going to spoil you?”

You whimpered at the feel of his fingers suddenly shoving inside you, curling into your g-spot as you cried out, the sudden squeeze of your bladder making your face hot as you squirmed to close your legs. Suddenly backtracking as quickly as possible as apologies spilled from your lips, “Daddy! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! P-please!” You whined apologies left and right as your walls clenched uncomfortably.

Jungkook only gritted his teeth yanking your hair once more as you cried out, forcing a second finger inside you as he spat out, “You’ve missed your opportunity to apologize you spoilt brat, if you wanna be a good girl take your punishment.” Your eyes began to water again as your bladder pulsed in discomfort, your thighs trembling as he continued to curl his fingers into the soft little spongy spot, “D-daddy…! Please…!” Your cheeks were burning in embarrassment as you cried, “I-I need to pee…”

Jungkook paused his movement as he let go of your hair, for a split second you thought he was actually going to listen as he leaned down, letting his lips brush against your ear, “Awh does my little baby need to potty?” He roughly jammed his fingers back into your g-spot, “Too fucking bad you dumb bitch,”

Tears began rapidly dripping down your cheeks as he began to finger fuck you, thrusting his fingers into your g-spot harshly, “What are you gonna do baby? I’m not stopping until you cum all over yourself? Are you gonna be a disgusting little bitch and piss all over yourself? Is my little slut gonna wet all over the bed?” He taunted as he curled his fingers continually into your g-spot making you sob into the pillow as your walls squeezed tightly in discomfort despite the pleasure beginning to well in your body.

“No! Daddy no! Please! Please! Don’t want to! Please I’ll be a good girl! I’ll listen! Daddy stop please! I’m going to pee myself!” You muffled into your pillow cries as his other finger began to rub into your clit making your walls tremble and squeeze as you breathed moans into the fabric.

“You have a safe word for a reason you slut,” Jungkook growled, forcing a third finger into your cunt as you cried harder, legs trembling wildly as your orgasm became impending, “Fucking use it princess, if you need to potty that bad use it.” He snarled, crying into your pillow you let out a defiant whine, though defiant a silent okay that you were fine, this however only made him sneer, “You fucking like this you nasty whore, you like wetting yourself all over the bed? Making a big fucking mess for everyone too see who owns your pussy?”

Your walls were beginning to rapidly clench as you cried out, “Cum! Daddy cum! I’m…! Im…!” Your bladder was squeezing so harshly there was no way you could possibly hold it in, shame was beginning to gloss over your hazy figure as tears welt back into your vision.

“Cum you dumb little bitch, show me what a nasty fucking whore you are, piss all over this goddamn bed, do it you slut.” Jungkook taunted, his fingers jamming into your g-spot and others finding the sweet spot of your clit making a muffled scream escape you as your body snapped harshly, tears falling down your cheeks in humiliation despite the mind blowing pleasure as the liquid began trickling from your body, “See that you disgusting fucking whore?” Jungkook sneered as you cried in humiliation, his hand slapping against your ass, “Keep going, keep making a fucking mess all over the place, do you like peeing all over yourself? Do I need to put my bitch in a cage to potty train her?” 

You had never felt so turned on and humiliated at the same time as the liquid spewed from your hole, his fingers having escaped from inside you but continued rubbing into your clit, your body relieved making your next orgasm spike violently as you cried, “N-no daddy! I’m good girl! I’m daddy’s good girl.” It was cried in defeat before the loud moan escaped you, his fingers digging into your clit as the orgasm ripped through you a thousand times more pleasant then the last as his grip began to soften as he helped you ride out your high, your legs trembling softly as you tears dripped down your cheeks.

“Mmm such a good girl,” Jungkook cooed softly at your trembling figure that weeped softly, “You took your punishment so well babygirl, shhh.” He untied you’re restrained as he scooped you up into his arms, puppy like eyes glancing up at him as you sniffled, “Such a good girl, my good baby, let’s get you cleaned up princess.” You let him carry you all the way to the bathroom, setting you up on the counter as he turned on the shower, warming up the water as you shuffled, cheeks still pulsing as you pulled off your shirt.

Stripping himself you couldn’t help but focus on the sight of his cock standing proudly against his abdominal, his thick bulbous tip was a painful red and precum was rapidly oozing making a mess of his chiseled stomach, “Unless you’re volunteering to help it’s rude to stare baby.” Jungkook clacked his tongue, winking at you playfully as your lips quivered into a shy pout letting him pick you up, legs wrapped around his waist as you set your chin against his shoulder, “Down baby, I can’t wash you if you’re stuck to me like this the whole time.”

You wrapped your legs around him tighter as he groaned, “For someone who just got punished I would’ve thought you’d listen better.” He complained as he grabbed hold of you by the ass, a whine leaving you as he purposely squeezed against the sensitive skin, keeping you steady on one hand as he began running a hand through your hair, “Such a brat.”

“You just had to make me piss myself didn’t you?” He snickered at your dry words, cheeks warming again as you buried into his neck, “Did I get any on you?” You felt even more embarrassed but you had to know. How was that even hot for him? More importantly why was that even hot for you?

“Yeah,” You shuffled against him in a loud whine of objection making him howl out laughing, shifting his grip on you as he peppered your head in kisses, “Oh hush I was the one that made you do it, I mean honestly I thought you’d chicken out and use your safe word to use the bathroom. But I guess my baby has big balls huh? Wanting to prove she can take it? Or does she just like being forced to take it?” You...Maybe he was right, you knew you could have stopped at any moment, but just like Jungkook you could be stubborn in your own way too, you did want to prove you could take it, no matter how embarrassing, “Maybe, but we are never doing that again.”

Snorting Jungkook smacked your ass making you jump, successfully getting you to jump off him, “So she says until next time she has to pee during punishment. Clean that pussy princess.” You glared at him turning around to face the hot water as you began cleaning yourself up, “Blame Rosé okay? She’s the one that insisted we get venti size from Starbucks while you guys were getting us a taxi.” It was true, apparently they had different flavors in America and Rosé had bought for you both, you didn’t realize Jungkook was gonna try and jump on your vagina as soon as you got in. Or else you would have made a point to use the bathroom as soon as you checked into the hotel.

“Or you could just owe up to the fact that you thought being humiliated into pissing yourself was hot...But hey whatever something’s are better left in denial,” Jungkook shrugged casually as you whipped around glaring at his cheeky expression, “What? Don’t give me that look, you’re too hot when you’re pissed off.” You groaned as you rubbed your forehead, eyes peeking down only to see his raging boner looking all the more irritated, you thought for sure he’d be half softened by now.

“...Are you sure you don’t need help?” You felt a little bad watching his cock throb and bob as if seeking friction, in fact, it was a miracle he wasn’t stroking off in front of you. Your thoughts had came too soon though as you watched Jungkook smirk, his gaze dropping to his hardened dick before gripping the base, you felt yourself swallowing thickly as you watched his hand slowly pump up to his tip that was a deeper shade of red, precum instantly dripping from his slit, “Is that an invitation?” Jungkook purred, making your lips tug into a pout, “Don’t be shy on me now babygirl, I’m stroking my nice fat cock just for you sense you’re so concerned. Don’t you wanna get on your knees and worship it?”

You felt like something was stuck in your throat at the way his hand pumped himself with such ease, his body relaxing at the way your lips pressed against his skin, eyes fluttering shut as he kept a steady rhythm against his cock, your kisses fluttered down his chest as you slowly began to kneel, letting your tongue drag down his v line as the soft moan escaped his lips. His cock throbbing in excitement as his lidded gaze opened to the sight of you kneeled and naked before him, “Go on princess, suck that cock, wanna cum all over that pretty face.” You jumped a little as he smacked your cheek with its thick shaft, “C’mon open that little mouth.”

Meekly you’re parted your lips, letting him push his tip inside your mouth as he sighed a moan, letting his head drop back and his hand rest against your head, letting thread your head as he stroked your hair, “Fuck...that’s my pretty little girl, keep going sweetheart. I know you love this cock, always so willing to get on your knees for me. How much do you love my cock baby?” Your hands wrapped around his base as you began pumping him, letting your lips pop from his tip as you felt your eyes blurring though unsure if it was from the shower, “Love your cock, wanna make daddy cum, wanna make him feel good.” You babbled out as you took him back into your mouth.

You gave a muffled whine as you felt his hand gently begin to push you further to take more of his cock, “Such a good fucking girl for daddy aren’t you kitten? You love worshipping daddy’s cock don’t you babygirl? So willing to get on your knees for him- mmm fuck,” he kept his eyes shut as you hollowed your cheeks, carefully taking him down your throat despite your jaw aching and your throat harshly burning, “And you know what good girls get? Rewards. Mmm my good little princess, gonna eat the soul from that cute tiny pussy just you wait sweetheart.” His encouragement was making you bob your head, preening under his praise as he let out another breathy moan, “Jesus fuck babydoll, just like that.”

You pulled off him as you gasped for air, whining at his thick cock suddenly smacking your cheek again, “Who said you could stop sucking princess?” Jungkook grabbed you by your cheeks, squishing them in your hands as the lip tugged on your lips, he looked like he was trying his best to keep a scornful expression but was failing due to your cute squished face, “Is daddy’s big cock too much for my baby? Thought you wanted to make me cum? Make daddy feel good?”

Jungkook let his lips tug into a smirk as his eyes lidded, grabbing his cock as he smacked your cheek with it again, “I guess you aren’t that good of a girl baby…” he chuckled at your whine as you opened your lips once more, letting you take him back in your mouth more determined this time as you hollowed your cheeks once more, taking him until your nose nuzzled against his pubic bone. The noises you made had to be unattractive at this point as you bobbed his throbbing cock, his grip against your head loosened and his breath hitches letting you know he was close, “Mmm fuck, fuck, fuck babygirl, you treat me so fucking well princess, be a good girl and keep going.”

He could barely get his words out before he suddenly bucked his length back down your throat a gag escaping you as your eyes blurred once more, a growled moan escaping his lips at the way your little throat strained around him as he released, not even being given a choice to spit out his cum as you felt the warm salty substance trickle down your throat.

You stilled for a moment as his breathes heaved, running a hand through his wet hair as you gently pulled him of out of your mouth, coughing slightly as you rubbed your face. After another moment Jungkook pulled himself together as he offered a hand to you, pulling you up before pecking your nose, “Thank you babygirl.” You suddenly felt bashful at his sincerity, turning around sheepishly to face the shower once more.

Chuckling at your shyness Jungkook hugged you from behind peppering kisses along your shoulder as he helped you get cleaned up.

He was attentive in making sure to dry you off too, rather than get you new clothes however you nearly yelped at your towel suddenly being tugged off and pushed onto the front of the bed, “J-Jungkook! What…! Ah! What are you doing!?” You cried out barely able to fumble your words as he spread your legs, hauling them over his shoulders as he began planting wet kisses against your inner thighs, a whole new level of arousal awakening in you as you whined, “Koo! I’m tired…”

Letting his tongue drag closer to your cunt that was easily beginning to stir Jungkook paused his movements, “I told you I was gonna eat the soul from this little pussy, you’ve only came twice babydoll, don’t act all put out.” Your cheeks were beginning to throb as your lips quivered at his words, talking about two orgasm as if that was nowhere near enough for him, “Just relax babydoll, no more being mean I swear,” He teased lightly as he pressed little kisses against your pubic bone.

 “I just wanna be buried in my babygirl’s cunt for the rest of the day making you cum again and again. Just lay back and relax sweetheart,” he nudged your thigh with his nose, “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he parted his lips as he licked a bold stripe up your cunt, a whine escaping you as his hot wet tongue teased past your sensitive clit, a small whine bubbled in your mouth, your thighs shaky as they pressed against his head.

“Mmm you’re so fucking pretty you know that babygirl?” Jungkook cooed softly, setting your thighs down from his shoulders as pulled up to kiss your nose against, letting his lips pepper down your neck as he hummed, “So fucking pretty,” he nibbled against your collarbones making you squirm beneath him with another whimper, “I know I shouldn’t be jealous,” He growled against your skin, “But I can’t stop fucking thinking about this weekend, about how many people are going to...touch you...how many people will get to see your body, I know I shouldn’t be but I am.”

He squeezed your waist for emphasis as he kissed down your stomach, “I can’t fucking stand it babygirl, I don’t wanna share this sight with anyone and it drives me so fucking insane, if anything happens- and I mean anything you call me.” Jungkook kneeled down as he parted your legs, kissing against your clit making your legs kick as you moaned, cheeks throbbing at his confession as he continually kissed it, “I don’t care how little of a problem it is, you fucking call me.” He growled, taking your clit into his mouth as he lathed against it, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you moaned his name, “Mmph! Jungkook!”

Hands grabbing at his soft wet hair as you tugged against it, “If anyone- anyone hurts my babygirl I swear to god,” You could feel your impending orgasm getting closer and closer, something about his jealousy turning you on even more as your back began to arch, “I’ll crush them,” He released your delicate bundle of nerves from his mouth before letting his tongue lap around it swirling until he hit your sweet spot sending another sharp cry from your lips, “I’ll feed them their own fucking teeth babygirl, you are so goddamn precious to me, I don’t know what I’d do if someone hurt you.” 

Sucking harshly against your clit your legs were shaking as Jungkook pulled your legs over his shoulder, completely devouring you as your breath hitches and whined escaped you, your back arching and tugging his hair as you a soundless cry left your lip.

Your orgasm was so close you could feel it, and just as it was about to rip through your body the loud knock on the door jolted you both, a whimper escaping you as you rapidly squirmed beneath Jungkook, “Hey, hey, hey shhh,” Immediately noticing your panic at being so exposed Jungkook covered you with his body, calming you down as he pressed little kisses into your neck, “Shhh you’re safe baby,” grabbing the fresh shirt he had set on the bed from before he tugged it over your head, your body still trembling and whines escaping you at his lack of closeness.

The door knocking again making you jump as your eyes started tearing up, “Oh baby shhh,” Jungkook cooed, pulling the shirt down to cover your body before gently thumbing your cheeks, “In a minute,” He shouted turning to glare at the door unappreciative to whoever was being demanding, “Asshole.” Jungkook muttered under his breath as he pressed a kiss against your forehead, straightening up as you whined, frantically trying to grab onto his shirt to keep him close, “Baby, sweetheart hey,” Jungkook kneeled down again at the little tears trickling down your cheeks, ignoring the knock on the door once more as he cupped your cheeks, pushing the tears away as he cooed softly, “I’m not going anywhere princess, I just need to answer the door, I’ll be right here, okay?”

“Okay.” You bubbled, a few more stray tears trickling down your cheeks as pressed another kiss against your forehead before standing up, quickly slipping on clothes as he walked to the door before opening it slightly. Wiping your eyes you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down from your emotional high you always reached after being in such a sexual state for so long.

You could only see Jungkook’s back and part of his side profile but you could spot his brooding shoulders and irritation from a mile away, “Yeah she’s here, why?” You could tell his posture was becoming more defensive by the moment as your attention perked up, rubbing your eyes as you wobbled towards the nightstand, your cheeks warming at the sight of the venti sized stain in the sheets. You were going to kill this man.

Taking a sip of water before setting the bottle down, you carefully wobbled your way over to Jungkook, the only ‘her’ in this room was you, which meant somebody Jungkook wasn’t familiar with was asking for you. And given his confession just a few seconds prior of not wanting to share you, his expression was nearly a sneer by the time you wobbled up to him. Peering from behind his broad back you recognized the figure immediately Diego Friar, the son of the client who held Seasonella.

“Oh….um...hi?” You were still trying to recover from your emotional state of mind as you timidly dropped gaze, tugging at your shirt, suddenly noticing the marks from the bondage you had been previously tied up too still prominently stained into your skin, feeling slightly self conscious your lips quivered a little, Jungkook immediately noticed your outer shy demeanor, huddling back against you with his broad figure once more protectively.

Despite Jungkook’s annoyance at being interrupted during a private moment with you, one he wanted to relish in for as long as physically possible before he’d have to part with you later Diego only seemed to ignore Jungkook’s expression as he glanced at you, delighted to see your face, “Ah! I was hoping to talk to you, doll.” He gave you a charming smile.

Jungkook gritted his teeth, sneering at the pet name but Diego decisively ignored him in place of staring at you instead, you looked nothing like you did the night you had lap danced him and you were well aware of this. Hair frizzy and still wet, wearing literally nothing but Jungkook’s shirt as you shuffled closer to his warm body, Diego’s gaze only brief- but sharply glanced at Jungkook in annoyance as he clarified, “Alone.”

Jungkook glared back in return making you shuffle uneasy. Oh great! This was just perfect! Jungkook was many things, but he was not above beating the shit out of one of Cherry Bombs biggest clients' sons.

After he just confessed his own jealousy at you having to perform you really wouldn’t put it past him right now. Jungkook was pumping testosterone at the moment and every sense in his body was saying to protect and defend you from any outside forces.

Nibbling against your lip you shuffled a little away from Jungkook’s brooding figure as you attempted to do damage control, “Well if we’re talking business it would be best if my mentor stays present, I’m still fairly new to the business.” Jungkook’s demeanor didn’t lighten up but it didn’t get any worse and you’d take that as a win.

You could tell Diego Friar however, was a man who had the world served to him on a silver platter, and if he wanted something he was going to get it. And that something was currently you, chuckling he only shook his head, “Easy doll, so presumable. I just wanna have a little chat. One on one. You made quite the impression earlier…”

You did your best to keep your expression neutral, noting that Jungkook stayed quiet to let you speak, debating your options you reserved for a small shrug, “Well sure, just give me a minute to get changed.” You could barely finish your sentence before the door slammed in Diego’s face making you sigh.

“He’s such an egotistical jerk, just talk my ass.” Jungkook sneered at the door quietly, running a hand through his hair as he sighed, “C’mon baby, let’s go back to bed.” He grabbed your wrist gently, giving it a little tug to lead you back to the bed but you stopped making him pause, groaning Jungkook let go of you, “Y/n I promise whatever he has to say isn't worth hearing.”

You were already walking over to your suitcase as you sighed, “Maybe, but we don’t know that Jungkook, look I’ll be fine. You know I can’t just stand up the clients son,” His expression flickered into a scowl at the floor, looking somewhat childish because he knew your words were true, buttoning up your jeans you sighed as you tucked in his shirt, “Jungkook…” You murmured softly as you walked back over to him, his hair dusting over his eyes the way it always did when he was brooding.

“Baby, look at me.” You frowned a little as you cupped his cheeks, his jaw was incredibly tense but relaxed a little under your grip as his hesitant gaze found yours, “It’s fine, it’s just for a few minutes and then I’m all yours the rest of the day. Five minutes and any longer you can stomp out and drag me back, okay?”

“Five minutes?” His gaze dropped back to the floor as his shoulders began to deflate in defeat. Letting your foreheads press together Jungkook let his nose rub against yours as he closed his eyes, leaning into your soft touch as his hands encased yours as if not wanting you to let go as he sighed. Pulling away a little you pecked his nose with a tiny kiss as you have a nod, “Five minutes.” You let go of him despite the little cute noise of disapproval from him, smiling softly you shook your head before opening the door.

Closing it behind you as you ran a hand through your hair, keeping a more professional demeanor then you had a few minutes earlier as you greeted Diego once more, “So what can I do for you?” You asked, taking a step closer. If there was one thing you had learned in stripping, it was that you couldn’t afford to be timid and pushed around by clients, especially on your own.

Diego gave another charming smile, loosening the tie against his dress shirt as he confidently answered, “Well it’s more of what I can do for you doll, you have some talent. But here’s the thing,” You tilted your head, not understanding where he was going with this, “You’re such a pretty little thing, it’s a shame you chose stripping for a career, how’d you get into such an ugly business babydoll?”

It took every fiber in your being to not outright cringe. Pet names that came from anyone else’s lips besides Jungkook just never sat right with you anymore. Besides the point you also couldn’t count how many times you got asked this question, trying to hold in your sigh you replied, “Oh...well...Umm I just...needed a job? My friend was the one who originally went to the audition but Jungkook wanted me as a trainee, the rest is history.”

You usually glossed over all the details to a much more vague version but you got the sense that Diego was well versed in Cherry Bomb’s strippers, or atleast that’s the impression he gave off. Chuckling he almost seemed amused by your cuteness which you didn’t think was cute at all, a slight irritation surging in you as he replied, “Cute, but that’s not what I meant honey. Let me guess, you’re a broke college student, or maybe you’re wanting to study and you don’t have the funds right? You come from a broken background with divorced parents and lived on the bad side of town? Took to stripping because it was a last resort and now here you are.”

If you weren’t irritated before. You were now. Your lips parted before swallowing down all of the less than pleasant words you were wanting to say. How dare he presume your background! In which most was very wrong! “See, I could change that babydoll,” He stepped into your personal space as you leered back a little, a smirk that you assumed was supposed to woo you twisting on his lips, “You’re just what I’m looking for, all cute and dainty but sexy and confident. I’m not free of course,” He laughed as if he told a funny dinner table joke, as if you were the one who should be honored by his offer, “But given your work ethnic I’m sure you wouldn’t mind the charge.” He sent you a wink as if sure that would seal the deal.

...What a fucking prick! Not only did this man just assume your background but he assumed you were an easy lay all because you were a stripper! You couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping you, your expression struggling to not curl incredulously as your brows furrowed, “Thanks for the offer- but I’m actually from a very stable background with two parents who are very much still together- and no I didn’t come from the poor side of town! In fact Mr Friar,” Your smile sharpened as you raised your brows, “Given my work ethnic I’m just fine on my own, have a good day!”

You didn’t stop to hear his words as you shut the door behind you, nearly knocking into Jungkook’s chest who had been shamelessly listening in as best he could to the conversation, he immediately wrapped his arms around you as he buried his nose into your neck, “Fucking cunt, I told you his crusty ass had nothing good to say.”

You snorted a laugh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Alright you baby you were right! But atleast it’s dealt with, now I’m all yours. No more sharing the rest of the day.” You leaned away little only to press your forehead back against his.

Jungkook’s previously huffy expression softened considerably at your words, his body relaxing as his hands stroked against your waist, “All mine huh? You got one thing right baby, I’m not sharing you with anyone the rest of the day. I just got a text from Jimin saying they’re going out tonight but we aren’t going.” You snorted again at his emphasis on we.

Letting your fingers thumb against his neck you raised your brows a little, “Oh? Are you telling me the party animal doesn’t wanna go clubbing for once? That’s a first.” Jungkook looked a little bashful at your words as you laughed, letting his hand come up to stroke your hair as he tugged gently against a few strands before softly defending his words, “Well I was thinking,”

“Oh?” You endeared raising your brows making him scowl slightly as he jabbed your stomach making a giggle escape your lips, nipping at your nose playfully he shook his head, trying to huff but unable to keep the smile off his face, “I was thinking; you and me tonight, just us. It’s not my first time in Vegas and I want to show you all the sights,” you curled up into his arms, nuzzling your nose into his neck with a yawn as he wrapped his arms around you, “Mmm that does sound nice.” You felt all warm and fuzzy inside admittedly, he really wanted to take you out to sight see?

Jungkook only chuckled at your sleepy figure as he led you to bed for a well deserved nap, “Then it’s a date babygirl.” You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. Noting the bedspread has been discarded where the clean sheets beneath stayed he laid you down as you snuggled in close, unable to keep the giddy smile on your face as you nudged against his neck, “It’s a date.” You confirmed, feeling all mushy and excited on the inside.

A date sounded really nice.

Note: This has felt like the LONGEST two weeks ever but! I hope it was worth the wait ~~ 

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(Taglist is CLOSED I am no longer accepting anyone on the taglist sorry!)

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 36 (NSFW)

Read one AO3. Part 35 here. Part 37 here.

Summary: Your bullet wound is tended to. Somehow, Gilead makes things like this even more awkward than normal.

Words: 6600

Warnings: woundplay, bloodplay

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hiiii! I am so glad to hear people enjoy my self-indulgence, so, here, have some more! Haha. Can't help myself, have loved this shit since I was young.  Please forgive me. As usual, I am so grateful for y'all. You truly brighten my day--I feel so lucky to have what I have. I love y'all very much. I try to respond to as many comments as possible. Thank you thank you. TwT <3

You weren’t surprised that Johana was furious when she opened the door to find you, yet again in the arms of your Commander, the both of you drenched with rain and iridescent with blood. 

What did surprise you was how quickly this fury crumbled into a trembling, panicked concern. 

Her attention darted between your wound and his face, and she moved toward you, half-reaching toward your arm, then thinking better of it. “What--what happened?” She glared at her husband. “What are you doing here? Take her to a hospital!”

Kylo pushed past her, wet boots squeaking on the hardwood, and Johana growled, shutting the door and trailing behind him. His grip was tight, fingers pinching your flesh. 

“I’m going to call the ambulance,” she said. “I’m not letting a Handmaid bleed out in our--”

He whirled on her, and you rocked with him, stomach churning with the sudden movement. “Pryde is staging a coup,” he replied. “Until I discover the reach of his influence, there is no safer place than this home.” He paused. “For her. And you.”

Silence lingered for a moment, and Johana’s expression sharpened, lips parting. Her eyes followed the grain of the wall, slow air leaking in her lungs. She glanced at the floor, horror falling like a curtain over her face. 

“Commander,” she said, “I…” She swallowed with a frown. “Commander Pryde stopped by the house this morning. He wanted to speak with you. I…” She stepped toward him, chin quivering. “I told him you’d left and hadn’t informed me where you were going, I shouldn't have said anything, I’m sorry--”

“Enough.” Kylo tensed, a wall of muscle against your frame. “It’s irrelevant now. Once she is stable, I’ll be departing with the Knights.” He adjusted you in his hold. “There’s a bullet in her arm.”

Johana gazed at him, hands wringing together, and sighed. Sucking in a long breath, she stepped forward and studied your wound. Your face flushed in embarrassment, expecting admonishment, or even cruelty from her, but it was as if she’d transformed, taken on another skin. She was calculating, cataloging something as she stared, leaning on her toes, humming in thought. There was no evidence of the woman you feared in the person before you--she’d been replaced by a confident, objective analyst. 

“Well, there’s no arterial damage,” she said, “she would’ve bled out already. The tourniquet isn’t necessary.” She eased closer, mouth screwing in thought. “Might’ve clipped the humerus, too hard to tell.” Eyes narrowing, she pressed her thumb to the perimeter of the wound, and you seethed--Kylo’s fingers bit into you. “It’s not infected yet. I can clean it. Stitch it. Even if we’re going to keep her out of the hospital, she’ll still need antibiotics. And to rest for at least two weeks.” 

“I’ll arrange for it,” he said. “I’ll return when this is resolved. You will be responsible for her.” He shifted close, voice low. “This is an order as your husband. Do you understand?”

Johana nodded, glancing at between the both of you and then to her feet, face pink. “Yes, Commander, I understand.”

“Prepare your supplies.” He turned and strode down the hall.

Kylo carried you through the home into his bedroom, shutting the door and locking it. He eased you to the floor and popped the tourniquet from your arm--you winced at the release of pressure, the new pulse of pain through your nerves. In silence, he crossed to the bathroom, and you heard the squeal of an opening pipe, the gush of a spigot, and blushed. He was running a bath for you.

When he returned, he removed your coat--his coat, technically--and tossed it to the ground, leading you toward the bed with a gentle hand while he gathered the hem of your nightgown and drew it over your frame. It stuck to you like plastic wrapping, leaving damp stains on your skin--and you plopped on the mattress as he guided it over your ribs. He raised your uninjured limb and lifted the rest of the gown over your head, your arm, and then down over your wound. You whimpered as the fabric peeled from your aching flesh, leaving you in your soaked undergarments.

Focused, he took your legs, throwing your socks and shoes to the floor, before looking to your bra, reaching behind you and unhooking it. You were speechless, teeth chattering, pain biting like skeleton claws as you watched your Commander--the man who had just single-handedly slaughtered dozens of soldiers--tend to you like you were the most precious, most delicate creature he’d ever had under his hands. His fingers were firm, soothing you with even the slightest touch, and he met your gaze, sliding his thumbs toward your underwear, warm brandy gleaming in his eyes.

Still trembling, you nodded, and he wedged them free, fabric bunching as it rolled down your thighs, and added them to the sopping pile of clothing on the hardwood. Having finished that, he released you and began to strip himself, starting with his boots and coat, still without words as the mountain of garments grew larger. He was stoic, never once sneaking a glimpse of your body until he was nude, too.

Though you’d cum for him four times already, and though your cunt twinged from the recent stretch of his dick, it was impossible not to revere him, like this, skin smoldering in dim light. Kylo Ren’s broad, crushing power and his beauty were seemingly disparate--yet the clean strength of his body only served to accentuate the elegant curve of his nose, the petal-pink of his lips, the soft, wet waves of his hair. He returned the stare, gaze dancing over your figure, but only in quiet, worried praise, as if you were a damaged triumph of art that was his to repair.

Blinking, he broke away, and walked to check your bath. Inside, you heard the splash of water, a knob adjustment, and he appeared again, silent as he scooped you to his chest. The shivering hadn’t stopped, and now that you could see it, you noticed that the bleeding hadn’t fully stopped, either. It wasn’t a river, more of a weep, tiny trickles pushed from your pulsating flesh as it rippled with every beat of your heart. You couldn’t see the bullet in the red mess of meat--and as you crossed the threshold, you wondered how far down it had gone. 

Kylo’s bathroom was wall-to-wall white subway tile, extending to the walk-in shower at the far end, the floor a pattern of black and white ceramic diamonds. The towels, too--whether hung or stowed or folded--were white and black, every accessory a silvered pewter. A ceiling light exposed the steel-grey skies outside, the room illuminated by two incandescent glass sconces above the mirror. The air was hot and thick--water half-filled a large clawfoot tub, and your Commander suspended you above it, lowering you into the bath like you’d splinter from shock. 

Relief was immediate, and you sighed, an imitation of a corpse in his arms. Heat engulfed you, sucking the tension from your skin, the steady stream of the spigot drowning your anxious mind. He released you, let you float, and your head rolled along the tub, a soft, satisfied hum escaping your chest. Steam wafted into your sight, and you breathed it in, hoping to fill your lungs with its comfort while Kylo pulled up a wooden stool. He removed the towel folded on top of it and sat, adjusting until he was at your side.

Your cheeks burned as you watched him gather the towel in his hand and pass it under the spigot, mesmerized by the taut muscles in his arms, his back. It was the third time in 24 hours you’d seen him without clothing, and still you salivated for it, each time an entirely new experience to your mind. Ignorant of your admiration, Kylo wrung the towel of excess water and lathered it with soap before gazing at you, face blank--your lip wibbled, your heart skipped. If it weren’t for the gunshot wound in your arm, you’d try to prod yourself awake.

His free hand cupped the back of your neck, eased you up, while the other started at your shoulders, drawing slow, soapy circles down your mottled neck and clavicle, moving to your uninjured arm, cleansing away the cold film left by the rain. He shifted then, to your chest, sitting you straighter, and washed the mud and splattered soil from your breasts and abdomen, caressing you with the cloth, pushing the fear from your flesh. You trembled in the tenderness of his touch, throat tight with emotion you were too terrified to name.  

Noticing this, Kylo shushed you, placing his lips to your forehead, murmuring something at your hairline that you couldn’t hear. Prickles of affection blazed through your nerves, your blood racing, and he sat back and lifted one of your legs from the tub, scrubbing it clean, passing the towel over the ticklish soles of your feet. You hid a giggle, wriggling from the contact, and he squeezed your ankle, holding you still until the muck was gone. One leg completed, he switched to another, untarnished section, and repeated the action with the other leg, never once breaking his attention from his task.

With both spotless, he switched sections again, and leaned you forward, rubbing soap into your back, strong thumbs pressing along your shoulder blades as he passed them, massaging down the line of your spine. You groaned, shuddering, goosebumps alight in the wake of his touch. He shushed you again, and washed you over with water, easing you back to the tub before spilling the soap clear from the rest of your body. The warmth flooded you, eyes fluttering in delight before settling on him.

His brow furrowed, and he lifted your wounded arm, coasting across it with a new patch of cloth, skimming the sensitive skin, brushing away the sludge and caked blood, revealing fresh, pink flesh. Your free limbs tweaked, and you grimaced in pain, but kept otherwise still, choosing to fixate on his pursing lips, how meticulous he’d become in his movements. Baffling, how this one man was both the blunt-end of a bludgeon and the precise feather fountain-pen--as deft with his hands as he was deadly. The last of the grime was wiped free, Kylo scrutinized his work, folded the towel over, and wet a clean swatch.

He then cradled your head, weaving through your hair, focus following his fingers while he wiped your storm-smattered face, swiping at your lips, under your lids, the rust smeared on your chin. As he dabbed your nose, he glimpsed you, and your lungs stalled in memory of the first time he’d done this--the first time he’d ever made you feel human, the first time he’d ever made you feel cherished. You gazed at him, your chest thumping with an appreciation so swollen you were afraid it would split through your sternum at a pinprick’s pressure. Kylo blinked, averted his eyes, and with a soft pat of your cheek, he sat back, appraising, his own face still sullied with crusted crimson. 

Words wouldn’t find you. You grabbed for the towel instead, taking it from him and sitting straight. Swallowing your nerves, you preened the loose strands of hair from his face and swept the cloth over his forehead, down his nose--he froze under your touch, his irises clouded with confusion. Hands quaking, you continued, smoothing over his cheekbones, along the line of his jaw, scraping away the remnants of battle. His mouth twitched, his throat knocked, and when you finished, you draped the towel over the tub’s edge. 

Finally meeting his stare, you exhaled, stroked his face with your thumb, tracing the edge of his scar. It was lithe, almost lovely in its length, cresting down his neck and over his collarbone, a rose-gold crack on his alabaster skin. Yet what made it beautiful was its origin, its legacy--the knowledge that he’d earned it in the act of saving you.

His eyes were liquid amber, gilded rims glimmering with a feeling you could only identify as gratitude, a reflection of the recognition you felt in your soul. It was an acknowledgement that in this mire of madness, you were thankful for each other, thankful that through the suffocating strangle of Gilead’s air, you’d discovered breath in the other’s embrace. He glanced at your mouth, and you wet it--something distant and familiar lingered on your tongue. Before you could give it life, Kylo tugged you by the neck and against his lips.

The kiss was tentative, exploratory, his mouth skipping over yours, testing your need, ghosting tingles at your nerves. You whimpered into him, clutching the back of his head, skating nails over his scalp as you returned his ardor, your tongue out slipping to taste him--he tilted his head, capturing you, his own tongue rolling slowly over yours. A quiet groan escaped him, and he pulled you closer, holding your head in both of his enormous hands, one stroking through your hair, the other keeping you still as his mouth grazed you. Your thighs braced together, forcing friction as fire dripped like oil between your legs. 

Kylo guided you back to the tub, chasing you, never increasing his insistence, taking time to brand you in dedication, rather than desire. Humming with pleasure, his tongue slid past your teeth, and the hand in your hair glided down your neck, over your shoulder, gripping it, as if to prove you were alive. You shivered, worked your lips over his like he was to be savored, flesh plumping from the pressure--underneath the running water, the only noises were your and his hidden breath, and the slick sound of your meeting mouths. Passion crept through you now, signaling a need that, despite having been more than sated this morning, was happy to awaken from its slumber.  

You shifted closer, growing needy--the sudden movement speared your arm with agony, and you yelped, breaking the kiss. Kylo nuzzled you with his forehead.

“Do you want relief?” His hand traveled from your shoulder, inching down your chest. “From the pain.”

Tremored, eager air left your lungs. “Yes.” You nodded. “Please.”

He pressed his lips to yours as his hand fell to your breast, groping it absently, thumb petting your pebbling nipple. You squirmed, releasing a moan, and he silenced you with his mouth, kneading your tit, making your stomach tighten with hunger. Giving a nip to your bottom lip, he kissed across your cheek, huffing into your ear while his hand dipped into the water and drifted over the rolls of your belly.

“Be a good girl for me.” Long fingers crawled over your mound, and you nodded, legs parting in welcome. “There we go...”

Two digits trailed up and down your outer folds, teasing them, and you gasped, throwing your good arm around his neck--his breath was slow and quiet at your ear, the baritone resonance of his voice rumbling through you. One finger drew up your slit, glancing over your clit, and you squeaked, core clamoring for more. 

“That’s it.” His mouth moved to your cheekbone, following your jaw. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” He licked up your pulse. “You’re gorgeous.”

Gooseflesh erupted over your skin, vision fuzzing with joy. “Even… even like this?” You nodded toward your wound.

“Mm.” Kylo kissed your throat, prying open your folds, probing your layers. “Especially like this.”

His thumb grazed your clit, and you whined, jerking him closer--he growled and taunted your entrance, swirling a single digit in its slick, daring to press in only half a centimeter. Your hips shifted, cunt craving more, but he refused to yield, thumb passing your nub with long, torturous strokes.

“I know men who’ve broken over a bullet.” He wiggled in another half-centimeter, and you clenched. “But you haven’t shed a tear.” More kisses to your throat, suckling at your heartbeat. “My brave little bird."

Heat rushed you in waves--at this rate, he'd have you cumming without even having to go inside of you. "Why should I be afraid?" you whispered. "I have you."

His breath hitched, and he plunged in, curling inside of you--a sigh left you as you throbbed around him, even knowing one finger wouldn't be enough. You adjusted your weight on his neck, bringing him closer, letting your injured arm dangle out of the tub.

"That's right. And you’re being so good for me," he murmured. "Getting so wet. Always ready for me to make you cum..."

Kylo slipped out, then pushed back in, then out, and in again, relishing in the tight ridges of your cunt as he stretched you open. You bucked your hips, trying to fuck him in rhythm, water sloshing in the bath--but he dodged you, forcing you to meet his pace, swiping back and forth over your clit in little bolts of bliss while he exhaled in excitement.

"Relax." His mouth moved from your neck to your shoulder, teeth dragging new welts over your clavicle. "I thought you were going to be my good girl." 

You swallowed and stilled. It was hard to control yourself when the rush of pleasure was numbing everything else. "I-I will. I'm sorry." 

"Better." Kylo caught your lips in a brief kiss, rewarding you with a second finger, crooking them both inside of you--you cried out, spasming in delight. "Fuck. How does a cunt this little take me so well, hm?" Another kiss, lingering. "Just thinking about how tight you are makes my cock hard." He smirked against your mouth. "You know I think about it whenever I wake up. And before I go to sleep."

You whinged, lava boiling in your blood--you wanted to melt into the water, liquefy in his hands. "Oh..."

"That's right," he said. "I make myself cum every morning thinking about fucking you. And it's never enough." He was panting, kissing back down your neck, to your chest again. "I could fuck this pussy every night for the rest of my life and it wouldn't be enough…"

“Kylo…”

Your brain swarmed with that distant feeling again, dizzying you, robbing you of language, weakening your joints. You clung to him, a raft in the sea of your lust, choking back your moans as his palm rocked against you, thumb circling your clit, fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt--you let your lids close, let pleasure encompass you, let yourself submerge to his will, trusting him to give you exactly what you needed. His lips scorched your shoulder, singeing a path toward your wound, but you were too rapt to notice, too elated to care. 

When he kissed it, something snapped--perhaps it was the plush of his mouth on the tender tissue, perhaps it was the ecstasy already seizing your sanity, or perhaps it was the delicious slice of pain twisting through it all. Whatever it was, you sobbed, back arching, pussy clamping down on his hand like it would sever him clean, head thrown back in a plea. Kylo stopped, purring with satisfaction, lifting his pretty, stained scarlet lips from your arm. You met his eyes, shaking, too embarrassed to say a word. 

Thankfully, he appeared too engrossed to further humiliate you, kissing the top of your shoulder before falling to your wound again--he rolled his fingers inside of you, rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight, quick strokes, and let his mouth sketch the edge of your injured flesh. You winced, writhed, jaw dropping in an open, continuous pant, and he licked light lines around it, lapping the seeping blood; when you clenched again, he slipped his tongue into the hole.

Your sight went white, you collapsed in the bath, a mix of scream and squeal shredding your throat. The sensation was a knife, carving bliss into your skin, your cunt pulsing with greed as your Commander laved you from the inside. Everything blanked, your only reality consisting of the thumb caressing your stiffened clit, the fingers pumping into your throbbing pussy, the tongue digging absolute pure pleasure-pain into your veins. Your hands furled into fists, teeth cutting your lip while you fought to find yourself in the hurricane that had replaced your brain. 

“Kylo,” you whimpered, as it was the only word you could remember, “Kylo, Kylo…”

“Good girl.” He moaned, lavishing hot, open kisses at the frayed flesh. “So good for me, so perfect--”

“Please.” Your lips buzzed, unsure what you were even asking for. “Please, I--”

Somehow knowing what you needed before you did, Kylo’s bloody mouth met yours, his thumb worming through your wound, and you shrieked into him--he swallowed every cry, painting iron along your tongue, kissing you in anxious fervor. Your orgasm bubbled with volcanic intensity, gravitation at your core, absorbing each spark of nerve and billowing to something so powerful that you were afraid you would shatter if it burst. 

Kylo nudged his digit deeper, pain ricocheting to your cunt, while his other hand flicked your clit fast, stuffed a third thick finger into your pussy, coiling and delving and fucking you wide, and you suffocated in his kiss, winding your tongue around his, gasping, groaning, and he drove into your hole, filling everything inside--you ruptured, ecstasy exploding through you, escaping in euphoric shrieks into his throat, happily consumed by the voracity of his mouth. He led you through it, easing his thumb free, rubbing you through the aftershocks of your climax as you descended, crumpling limp in the water’s warmth, chasing his gentle, lazy lips.

By the time you’d regained control of your faculties, you’d realized he’d pulled out of you and turned off the spigot, leaving you to soak in a bath that had risen past your breasts. And he was still catching his breath--through your daze of disbelief, you saw him stroking his hard, needy cock, pounding it to his own release. Kylo sought your mouth again, but you shifted away, enthralled by the sight of your Commander, cheeks flush, jaw dropped, thrusting into his fist. He huffed with a half smirk, leaning back, allowing you to see the contractions of his stomach, the flexing in his chest.

“You like that?” He pushed the skin to the head, coaxing a drop of precum from the slit, smearing it over his shaft. “Is this making you feel good?”

Your mind was mush. All you could think to do was nod.

“Fuck…” Kylo’s pupils were blown, his chest heaving. “Then you can remember this when I’m gone. Think of me like this.” He rolled his palm around his length, tugging it faster. “Think of me fucking myself because of you.” 

Saliva pooled from your cheeks, your eyes pinned to the muscular slabs of his legs, how they spread and framed his cock, long and thick and beautiful, how his hand wrapped around it with a soft shuffle, how his flesh bounced with the effort. You could see the peaking tide of unadulterated pleasure, his face obscene with it--his head dropped onto his shoulders, his thighs tensed, hand a blur over his dick. 

“Fuck… fuck.” His voice was shredded with bliss. “You want to watch me cum, little girl?” 

“Y-yes…” 

His lids closed, he gasped. “Tell me to cum.”

You almost choked. “Christ. C-cum for me, Kylo--”

Kylo Ren snarled your name, gripping his cock as it twitched and pulsed between his legs, sticky cum shooting in spurts onto his sternum, roping over his abdomen. He groaned, jerking himself into sensitivity, sucking in a deep breath as his hand slowed, head falling forward, the tail of his climax dissipating. When he was finished, he exhaled, paused, and gathered some of his seed onto his fingers. Your throat thickened--and he held you in his stare, sucking them clean.   

No words would come to you. Between the still-crackling cinders of your orgasm and the image of him eating his own cum, you’d temporarily lost your ability to speak. Kylo smirked--he kissed you a final time before tucking a lock of wet hair behind your ear and rising to his feet.

Your Commander walked to the sink and grabbed a towel, wiping away the remaining blood and cum and debris. In the valley of post-climactic rapture, watching him--this man, your savior and enslaver--you yearned for that moment in the cemetery, before you’d been shot. The moment when it seemed as if he’d considered you--a moment you felt him echo when he’d said every night for the rest of my life. You sank into the bath, that nagging, terrifying feeling welling within you again. You shoved it down, knowing that to name it while still wading in uncertainty would damn you to despair.

“Um. What you said earlier. Is that something you’d want?” you asked. “To… have me? Every night? For...” The rest of the words wouldn’t leave, stuck like impossible barbs on your tongue.

He said nothing, taking a swig of water from the sink and swishing it in his mouth before spitting it into the basin in a pink spray.

“I think we could do it.” You were being careful--but you were less afraid of his words than your own. “We could have that.”

Still silent, he took a fresh towel and rustled it through his hair, whipping excess water from the curls.

“I know you believe in destiny,” you said. “But what if you have two?” He stilled--you continued. “What if… I saw another path. Where you--where we were free?” 

Kylo Ren glanced over his shoulder, considering you. There was not a single hint of emotion in his expression. Your chest tightened.

“It would make me happy,” you murmured. “What about you?”

His gaze fell, wandering the tile, the walls, until it led him to the mirror. He stared into himself, like a stranger to his own reflection, jaw steeling. Rain rattled the skylight, thunder crashing through the clouds, a rumbling of the past--he remained there for a moment, inspecting his face, searching for something, wallowing in recollection. His back crested, muscles hardened, and he tore away, eye twitching as he looked back to you.

“There are greater issues to rectify,” he said, and left the room.

Wilting, you slid deeper into the water, keeping your arm tossed over the edge. It wasn’t that you had expected him to drop it all and agree, like a hero from some romance--yes, darling, let’s steal away at midnight--but you had hoped for some concession, some inkling of hope that he wanted to sustain what was unsustainable. Yet, in the back of your mind, you both understood there was only one way he could do that. And it would involve abandoning everything he’d ever known. 

The question you weren’t willing to answer was how you’d balance your willingness to wait with reality. Running was not an option, now--not as long as your Commander had both the will and the governmental power to find and keep you. No matter his compromises, the existence of Gilead meant his inherent rejection of your agency, his unwillingness to let you go, despite it being your only wish. 

And every second wasted translated to years of lives hanging in turmoil. The next time you met with the Resistance, you knew you’d do whatever they asked to help them cripple Gilead. One way or the other, they would bring you your freedom. You just hoped that by the time they were ready, a time that could be days or weeks or years, he’d be coming with you. 

Some might think you were asking too much--for him to relinquish his power, destroy as much as he could in the process, escape with you into anonymity--but the Kylo Ren you knew was capable of anything. You’d ask for all of it, or ultimately accept none.

 Of course, you’d need to heal from this damn gunshot, first.

Kylo returned, dressed and dry, adjusting the cuffs on his coat. “Two Knights will remain in my absence. Johana will care for your wound and get you to rest.”

“Oh,” you said, starting to stand, “okay--”

“Don’t move.” 

Confused, you stopped, splashing into the tub. Johana couldn’t see you naked, and especially not while you were covered in his hickeys and bite marks. “But--”

“A precaution,” he said. “To protect your temperature.” 

“But...” You folded your free arm over your chest. Your options were paltry few, and inviting in a strange, possibly deceptive doctor, one without any personal investment in your well-being, seemed even less appealing. “Okay.”

“You will be safe.” He scanned your body in the bath. “Be good, little bird.”

A jumble of words waited on your tongue: Be safe, be careful, I’ll miss you, I…

Instead, you only nodded. “I will.”

He met your gaze a final time in silent regard, and turned to leave. You listened to the sound of his boots cross the floor, wondering how the water had made it into your eyes. Blinking, you wiped your cheeks. You weren’t sure how long you laid there after your Commander had left--only that when you heard the creak of the bedroom door, steam had fled the air, and your breathing had evened out. 

When Johana entered the bathroom, she brought a tote with her, avoiding you entirely as she plopped it next to the sink and washed her hands. Finished that, she pushed her sleeves to her elbows and grabbed a pair of gloves from the bag, pulling them on before fishing through it again. Chewing her cheek, she procured a needle, a pair of tweezers and scissors, a few square packets, dental floss, a roll of gauze, two tiny white tubes, and a small plastic bottle of clear liquid. She laid them out on a towel, picked it up, turned to you--and nearly flung all of it across the room.

“Jesus Christ.” Her face contorted in a mix of disgust and dismay--she went to say something else, but shrugged it off, heading to the stool and sitting down. 

You blushed, taking a quick inventory of your chest. Yes, it definitely looked like an animal had savaged your upper-torso--and, in a way, that’d been exactly what happened. Settling on silence, you stared at your feet. There were no words you could think to say that would ease the awkwardness of her acknowledging the evidence of her husband’s illegal affair. 

Johana sighed, took one of the tubes, squeezed its contents onto a gloved finger and rubbed it over your wound. You squeaked in pain, watching as it worked into a lather before she took the bottle of liquid and squirted it over your skin (water, to your relief). Stone faced, she patted it down with gauze before grabbing the needle and one of the packets--an alcohol wipe, you now realized. You frowned.

“Wait,” you said. “Aren’t you going to… um. Remove the bullet.”

She snorted. “Not unless you’re interested in bleeding out in the bathtub.” Tearing the packet open, she plucked the wipe free. “Digging around could further traumatize the wound,” she said. “It’s safer to leave embedded projectiles where they are.”

“Oh.”

Her brow furrowed as she sanitized the needle. “Yes, oh.” Contrition flashed over her face. “Not that you had any reason to know that.”

Regret puddled in your heart--not for what you’d done, but that you’d both been placed in this hell at all. At least you’d had a distraction in the form of the Commander. Johana had been floundering alone for, maybe, the past three entire years. You knew she was miserable, knew that you’d seen a moment’s hesitation before she’d stolen the switchblade. Even if that object was long-gone, if you could soften her, even a little, maybe she’d hear you out. Maybe freedom was a possibility for all of you in the home--the Marthas included.

“I’m sorry,” you said, nodding toward your chest. “I wasn’t expecting--”

“Don’t really care.” She wound out a string of floss from its container. “The faster you get pregnant, the better.” 

“Is that why you won’t report me? Or the Commander?” you asked. “You just want me to get pregnant?”

“Yes.” Narrowing her focus, she held up the needle in one hand and the floss in the other before glimpsing you. “And no.” She paused. “It’s not like you’re the worst Handmaid I’ve had.” 

A reluctant grin pulled at your lips. “The dinner party?” 

“Ha!” It wasn’t a true laugh--more like a squawk. “The only other person who has ever talked to Commander Hux like that is my husband.” Pride twinkled in her eye. “But seeing his reaction to you was even better.”

You chuckled. “Was he always such a bastard?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Always.” Her mouth opened to speak, but she said nothing.

Silence descended over the bathroom; thunder rumbled under the shower of rain. Johana looked between the floss and your wound.

“Anyway, the Commander’s preoccupation with you won’t be a problem once you give birth.” She tossed it and unfurled a longer strand. “And I know you can’t help yourself anyway.”

“Ms. Johana, please.” You sighed. “Do you really care about him?” you asked. “I mean. Even after…” Invoking her dead husband’s name seemed tacky. So you didn’t.

She rolled her eyes. “What does it matter?”

You shrugged your good shoulder. “I just…” Quiet, you sought out her gaze. “You really loved him.”

“I did,” she said. “So what? He’s dead now.”

“How did you meet him?”  

Johana didn’t respond, focused on threading the needle, taking one, two, three attempts before the floss passed through the eye. Blowing frustrated air through her nose, she wiped tweezers down before using it to pinch the needle. Turning to your arm, she went to poke you--and paused.

“Church.” Her voice was soft. “I met him in church.”

Using two fingers, she compressed the sides of the wound together--you flinched--and pierced the bottom, pulling the strand of floss through. It was a tiny nip, hardly comparable to the pain of the wound itself. You shook the discomfort away.

“What was he like? Ah--”

“Stop squirming.” Johana exhaled, looping the floss and making another stitch. “Very traditional,” she said. “Very organized.” A tiny smirk eked over her lips. “Very bossy.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

She fought the urge to smile. “Oh, he was funny about it,” she said. “He liked things to be a certain way. He was always teasing me for fussing until it was perfect.” For a moment, she looked content, sapphire glittering in her irises, face glowing as she slipped the needle through again. “He had high expectations. I could always meet them.”

“Oh.” Kylo Ren, you imagined, was a devastatingly unfair change of pace. “It must be hard. The Commander seems so different.”

Like fog, the facade of peace faded, revealing the vacant, tired bags beneath her eyes. “He is.” She jabbed you, perhaps a little harder than intended--you winced. “But...”

You frowned. “But?”

Johana’s hands froze, and she swallowed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She said nothing more, face drawn in focus as she made another stitch, and another. You watched, almost in awe of her nimble fingers; you knew for certain it’d been over three years since she would have last done this, and probably longer than that. If you hadn’t known her in the context of being your Commander’s Wife, you never would have guessed it.

“Being a nurse was probably tough.” 

A short, tight laugh caught in her throat. “Dealing with bureaucratic red tape and doctors all day? Yeah. I don’t miss it.” Her tone softened, and she shrugged. “But I was good at it.”

“I can tell.”

“I’d hope so. I was top of my...” She sighed, rolling her eyes again. “Whatever.” With the tweezers, she wreathed the floss in on itself, made a knot, and tied it off. “I don’t have the luxury of surgical thread.” A snip as she cut the loose ends with the scissors. “This will pop if you’re not careful.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

Exhaling, she took the second white tube and collected a clear gel from its tip, spackling it over your sutures like paste. Satisfied, she then grabbed the gauze, binding your arm in several rotations before cinching it tight. For a moment, she stared at it, and then peeled off her gloves and rolled up the towel with all of her supplies. She brought it to her tote and stuffed it inside before marching out of the room, leaving the bag on the sink.

Beyond the door, you heard her shuffling in the bedroom, and you let loose a long, disappointed sigh. She’d been a tougher nut to crack than you anticipated. It wasn’t as if you were queen of mind games, but you’d at least expected her to be intrigued by the chance to open up to anybody other than her pillow. But perhaps you couldn’t blame her for not trusting you when you kept showing up to her home with increasingly bizarre injuries. 

Johana entered the bathroom again, a heavy, black robe in her arms. “I don’t have one that will fit you.” She flopped it open, held it out. “He’s never worn it, anyway.”

You stared. “Oh.”

“Don’t just oh,” she said. “Come on.”

With a wobble, you eased yourself to your feet, steadying with the wall as you stepped out of the tub and into the robe, allowing her to bundle you in it. Johana guided you with a hand on your back to Kylo Ren’s bed and observed while you climbed on. 

Offering a restrained grin, you said, “I know you don’t like me. And that I keep getting hurt. But thank you.” 

“It was an order. I follow them.” Her gaze traveled your figure, and she sighed, grabbing one of the pillows and fluffing it. “Look. I don’t--I don’t dislike you.” She wedged it behind your back. “I just don’t get why he keeps doing all of this. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

You frowned, face hot. For once, you actually felt insulted. “Maybe it’s because I see something in him,” you replied, bending so she could fluff another. “Something that you might not care to see, anyway.”

She balked, shoving it under your shoulders. “What are you talking about? We’ve been married for three years.”

“And you’ve never stopped loving Moden that entire time.”

Johana paused and looked at you, propped upright along the headboard. You sat there, smothered in your robe, supported by cushions, constricted in a full-body cast of cotton. Her gaze drifted to the floor, and she raised her brow in thought, folding her arms over her chest. There it was--the gap in her shell.

“Maybe it’s all for the same reason,” you said. “The fact that you still love him. The fact that the Commander seems attached to me. The fact that I keep getting caught up in... everything.” You held your breath, and let it go. “Maybe it’s all because this entire thing is just… bullshit.”

She blinked. Then glanced up. “You might be right.” Her fingers burrowed into her arms. “But Moden expected me to get remarried if he passed. And he expected me to carry on what he couldn’t.” She swallowed, jaw tensing. “I don’t intend to disappoint him.”

With that, she spun, flouncing into the bathroom to grab her tote, and crossed to the bedroom door. She met your eyes in silence before staring at the hardwood. A weight, laden with deferred, unrealized, and deadened dreams, suspended between you. Shaking her head, Johana opened the door, slipped into the hall, and shut it behind her.

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

Part 5

Part 4, part 3, part 2, part 1

Content warning: Familial loss, Dissociation via PTSD, blood, injury, Dio’s nasty ass fleshbud and hinting/quick mention of assault

For the moots: @risottoneroo and some new followers (seriously like ya’ll make me so giddy (⌒▽⌒)) @fyre23 and @comeationmeerer

A/N: Aight time zones are strange and I might be a bit ahead but this piece is gonna be published a few hours before NYE for me so I consider this the final piece to a VERY cursed year. Thank you so much for the support on this series thus far, it means so much to me and don’t worry- I’ll be continuing it into 2021. TwT. Oh and Happy New Year ya’ll!

Don’t have the word count but it feels long lol

Vera turned the picture of Holy and her son around in her hands. Looks like Mr Kujo’s been out of the picture for a while. Maybe not legally but definitely socially.

“Stop being a creep.” Jotaro grumbled as he passed her in the hallway to the kitchen.

“Oh cut an orphan some slack, would you? All my baby pictures are court property.” She feigned sadness as she put the picture frame down and followed into the kitchen where they were cheerfully greeted by Holy who put two platefuls of eggs Benedict in front of them- with Jotaro sitting with three eggs and an extra serving of rice.

“Just shout if you want some more, Vera.”

Jotaro looked her over as if she’d materialized at the table beside him.

“Yes, my name is Vera.” She extended a hand out to him over the corner separating them. “Vera Astbury.”

“Astbury.” He frowned, taking her hand for a nonchalant shake.

She chuckled, opening the napkin over her lap. “Yeah I don’t think it suits me either but it’s what I got. Just stick to Vera though.”

They sat in comfortable silence over breakfast- not minding much as she enjoyed a cup of coffee over the newspaper.

“Can you even read that?” He asked after he finished the bowl of rice.

Her gaze shifted to him as he continued to scoff down a glass of water. “I’d rather not wait for manga translations to make it to the shelves where I live.” Was all she answered as she continued to read up about an excavation of 20 tombs in Egypt.

“Shoujen gets you that excited, huh?”

Fortune moved before Vera could quite catch her but she herself didn’t move. The butter knife met the table right between his fingers- Fortune’s faceless head staring him down.

“I’d suggest you rethink the sexist stereotypes you hold me to. Or at the very least keep those comments to yourself.” She said flatly, she wasn’t about to make him think he was getting under her skin.

Jotaro’s stand emerged and gave Fortune a hard shove away from his user- Vera feeling the phantom touch on her own shoulders.

She narrowed her eyes at him, sitting up straighter and looking him straight in the eye. “You wanna tussle, Kujo?”

Jotaro, admittedly, had a strange effect on Vera. Her usually calm and calculated demeanor seemed to slip around him, her temper flaring dangerously whenever he’d open his mouth around her. What was it that made her want to punch that stupid scowl off his face? It couldn’t be because she wanted to prove something to him, could it?

He only gave a disinterested ‘tch’ as he stood up from the table. “Don’t try it.”

Nope, she definitely wanted to prove she could floor him...

Avdol entered the kitchen soon after and without so much as a good morning, Jotaro was out the door- Holy running after him to see him off. Watching her beg him for a simple goodbye made her blood boil hot enough to put her own shoes on and feign a walk in the neighborhood.

Fortune tripped him up just enough for her to catch up to him and snatch his cap from atop his head.

“You’re a damn pest, you know that?” He grumbled as he knelt in front of her.

She swung the inner brin of his cap on her finger as she peered down at him. “I told you to quit the punk act with your mom.”

“Why do you care?” He straightened, his stand reaching for her but Fortune blocking the reach. Vera nonchalantly placed the cap on her head and started walking ahead of him. “Because I’d kill to have a chance to say goodbye to my mom.”

Soon as other students started coming into view, Vera tipped the cap off of her head, letting his stand grab it before it landed on the floor. She was off the path, heading back to the Kujo residence. Holy refused to let her help with any laundry and soon enough she was shooed into the same room as Avdol and Mr Joestar.

“Tea or coffee, Vera?” Avdol asked. She looked down at the traditional green tea alongside the little tin of coffee. A pick-me-up would have been nice, so she picked the coffee up and took a whiff to see if it would be worth it. The smell she got instead nearly made her cough.

She closed the tin immediately and looked at Avdol in confusion. “Are you testing me or something?”

“Why do you ask such a question?” Mr Joestar interjected, “ it’s so much less work than tea.”

Vera peered down at the nameless metal tin with disgust. “Mr Joestar, I would have to ask if that’s the best coffe you have because that... stuff... is only coffee scented.”

Beside her Avdol chuckled as he prepared the two cups that would hold their tea. “I suppose that was why you begged for ground coffee from home, Vera?” He spoke with a slight smile.

“Avdol, they were labelling the coffee grinder scrapings as ‘columbian roast’- it was daylight robbery!”

Mr Joestar chuckled, handing his mug to Avdol to prepare a cup of tea for him as well. “You have a fine nose for such things?”

Vera opened her mouth to explain but when the ominous shadow of Jotaro spilled into the room the conversation was forgotten. She and Avdol moved in tandem, clearing the room of the table and tea ceremony supplies to lie the redhead down on the floor.

“You said he attacked you-“ her gaze moved up from Jotaro’s head to his knee right in front of her. She forgot what she was saying as she let Fortune start healing his leg first but was called back to attention for the redhead. Mr Joestar revealed the ugly little fleshbud sitting on the guy’s forehead.

“Can’t you just extract it and heal whatever was hurt?” Jotaro asked over her shoulder.

“I move time and the healing process forward but the brain doesn’t regenerate. I could revert its state to what it was before the fleshbud but for that to work it needs to be removed.”

Jotaro bent down and held Kakyoin’s face while bringing his stand out. “I’ll extract it and you fix whatever I damage.”

“Wait, did you...?” Before she could even finish her sentence his stand was already reaching for the fleshbud. She brought her own hand to Kakyoin’s face, focusing her stand’s energy. The fleshbud shot two tentacles up into Vera and Jotaro’s arms, the subtle sting challenging her focus for just a moment. Vera focused Fortune’s energy into any damage being done to Kakyoin’s brain, forcing on turning the dial back. She spared a glance up at Jotaro, where the fleshbud was inching into his neck. Peering down at her own, she noticed hers wasn’t too far behind.

Kakyoin’s eyes shot up and instinctively Vera’s hand flew out to keep his eyes shut. “Not to rush but could you hurry it along?” She hissed at Jotaro.

The fleshbud separating from Kakyoin’s head sounded like separating Velcro to her. It flew through the air for a moment and like catching a wishbone between two people, Fortune and Jotaro’s stand grabbed hold of the two ends of the fleshbud and pulled. It bounced out of their grasps as it ripped in three and was finally finished off by Mr Joestar but definitely not by his stand- or maybe she was just seeing things.

Fortune’s dials turned frantically as they healed three people all at once, Vera bending down to check if the hole in Noriaki’s head was closing up.

The redhead looked between her and Jotaro and then asked the golden question... why did they save him?

Vera got up from kneeling beside Kakyoin, “I don’t know, morals, I guess?” She shrugged as she left the room to find the first aid kid, Holy stopping her in the hallway to listen to Jotaro’s answer.

His answer meant less than nothing to Vera but to Holy, she smiled and inclined her head in the direction his voice was coming from and smiling- almost as if to say “see what I mean?”

All Vera could do was smile and nod, pulling her back a bit to quietly ask for the first aid kid.

The next morning Vera got up a bit later than usual, the night before she had slipped out of her room for a smoke break. When she returned to her home she had slipped up a step and scraped up her knee.

She had only wrapped it in gauze before crawling back into her futon but waking up she realized it wasn’t just a simple scrape- she’d need to stitch it up.

So with a soft groan she got up, hopped through a shower and with wet hair still hanging over her shoulders slid Noriaki’s door open after her knock.

The first aid kit was left in his room and he was still asleep as she slipped into the bathroom he was given and sat down on the floor, knee propped up.

Over time she’d gotten used to patching herself up- the nurse at the boarding school got sick of her relatively quickly the first few months she was there, at the time she used Fortune for anything, especially to make sure teachers didn’t check for homework but that didn’t quite fare well when in turn, she’d end up with food poisoning or bloody noses.

Pain wasn’t much of a bother for her anymore- she’d poured enough hydrogen peroxide into open wounds to not flinch anymore.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” A velvety voice asked behind her as she wiped her newly stitched new clean.

She looked over her shoulder at the redhead in the doorway. A smirk spread over her face. “If you’re still sworn allegiance to Dio, I’m gonna have to politely ask you to give me a minute? I just closed this up.”

Kakyoin took a sharp breath through gritted teeth, about to say something when a commotion disturbed them both.

To her, it didn’t feel real. She felt like she was floating through the motions of finding the other three men in the kitchen with an unconscious Holy and then laying her down in her futon- concerned for her sake.

It felt like she was stuck, watching as Mrs Kujo strain against her own body to draw a single breath- behind her Jotaro and the others were finding to pinpoint Dio’s location but she had very little care for it at that moment.

It wasn’t until Jotaro gave her shoulder a light tap that she seemed to shake herself out of it. “Take a breather, outside.” Her gaze travelled up to meet his face, that same scowl on his face as always. “Might also wanna go wrap your leg up.”

True to his word, she was bleeding through her jeans. All she could do was nod and leave the room. Another hydrogen peroxide soak and this time she decided to busy herself with Avdol in the library.

“I never asked you this but, could you ever explain how you overcome your stand fever?” Avdol asked as she leaned against the entrance of the library. She moved closer, pulling the next books Avdol had his eyes on into her arms.

“I can’t really say. I heard a lot of voices while I was sick but in a sense... I’d say it was just my reluctance to die.”

“So- Mrs Kujo could survive that fever?” Noriaki asked from the doorway this time.

“Unlikely.” Vera and Avdol had answered in unison.

Kakyoin seemed confused by that answer. “But you just said-“

“Vera is the first of, close to a thousand cases I’ve ever seen to survive.”

She rolled her head back to peer at the redhead. “Not to sound too special.” Her attention returned to the stack of books she held for Avdol. “Not that I’d wish that fever onto anyone- except maybe Dio.”

“What does it feel like?” Noriaki continued to prod.

A groan left her lips. “You born stand-users, honestly. It’s the most accurate remake of being burnt alive- I haven’t been able to feel pain normally ever since.”

Avdol peered down at the note in his hand and then at the page of the encyclopedia. “Look familiar, Vera?”

Deadmatch.

“I had had my suspicions that he might have left Egyp but it seemed he stayed.” Avdol pondered with Mr Joestar, Holy still unconscious on her futon.

“So I’m going home.” Vera sighed quietly, bending down to feel over Holy’s forehead.

Kakyoin announced his help and when asked why, he spared a glance at Vera, saying “I don’t know- morals, I guess.”

They stayed one more night at the Kujo residents, waiting for the Speedwagon Foundation to arrive for Holy. She had once enjoyed a quick smoke break at the dead of night when once more she found herself face to face with Jotaro.

She pulled a cigarette from its pack and handed it to him. “I’m heading to bed.”

“No,” he reached his arm out to stop her leaving. “If you’re coming with us, you’re gonna explain some shit to me.”

Vera peered up at him, unphased, hand on her hip. “You got questions. And I got answers. Ask away.”

“Why don’t you just heal my mom?”

“I can’t cure curses. A stand fever is like immunity for life- I can move it forward or back but it doesn’t change your body’s ability to make a stand.”

“So why don’t you heal yourself?”

She shrugged, “I could but I’d rather take a stitched up leg over another assault case on my counselor’s case.”

The scowl on his face disappeared and was replaced by a slack-jawed shock.

“As hard as this will be, Jotaro, you’ll have to learn to trust me. I wouldn’t expect you drive without experience. In the same way you have to trust that I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

Jotaro dropped his harm back to his side, letting her stroll by calmly until he spoke again.

“At what cost?”

“I’ll deal with the costs-“ she turned to face him. “But uhhh I’d appreciate if you stuck around when I told you I felt unsafe.”

Jotaro didn’t say anything, only nodded before turning to light his cigarette and Vera turning down the hallway to bed.

[psych0midget]

Secret Stan Account AU Part 2

Part 1

It doesn’t take long for people to figure out that A. Minyard’s book is dedicated to Neil Josten. NEIL FREAKING JOSTEN. Like Neil Josten, the one and only exy player who can play every position? He’s a formidable backliner, a precise dealer (though he hates the position, fiercely) and one of the most promising strikers of the exy panorama? That Neil Josten? Oh. My. God.

Neil has thousands, millions of fans out there. But he had seriously underestimated it. It doesn’t take long for his fans to put two and two together, realise that he has a secret stan account and start looking for it.

It also doesn’t take them long to find it, not when Neil didn’t have the foresight of using a fake name on twitter. There are only so many book twt accounts run by someone called Neil.

Most of his fans are excited about it. Some are not. Especially when they realise that his account is also a Kevin Day stan account.

It’s a pr nightmare, that’s what Allison tells him as soon as he picks up the phone. She tries to keep everything under control, but by the time Neil’s done with the meetings, the interviews and all the unnecessary drama, he opens up Twitter only to find out that his stan account has been deleted.

And so has Drew’s.

Neil curses. He hadn’t had time to text Drew and tell him that he’d seen the dedication. And Drew, or rather A. Minyard has no official social medias. He’s fucked, he’s well and truly fucked.

The only source of info is the website of Drew’s publisher. But there’s a just a short bio saying that A. Minyard is a 27 year old author from Columbia. Has three cats and knows how to use knives, he swears the fight scenes in his books are all real. There’s also a photo and it’s the portrait of a blond man with eyes the color of honey staring impassively at the camera. And It’s the only thing Neil has left of Drew.

Jean Moreau gets back home only to find his roommate looking at his laptop, tabs and tabs and tabs open on his desktop. There’s a cup of coffee on the ground, a half-eaten sandwich on the rug (!!!) and a phone book (he had no idea those things still existed in 2019) on the sofa.

Jean ushers Jeremy inside the apartment, closes the door behind them and sighs. “Have you tried calling your uncle yet?” he asks. “I tried, but it’s 3am in the UK, he’s not picking up.”

Jean had meant it as a joke. A joke. Jean will kill Neil if the FBI doesn’t kill him first. “You tried calling the British mafia just to find your internet boyfriend? Are you nuts?”

Neil, the bastard, doesn’t even look sorry.

Jean almost starts shaking as he tries NOT to throw a chair at Neil’s, but Jeremy wraps his arm around his waist and rubs slow circles on his hip till he calms down. God bless Jeremy, god bless Jeremy especially when he says “You know Minyard’s doing a book tour right? He should be in Chicago next week, you could always show up there?”.

And Neil, Neil who’s lost his fucking mind for a guy he became friends with on twitter, finally relaxes his shoulders and looks at Jeremy like he’s hung the moon. (Jean is going to murder Neil if he keeps staring at his boyfriend like that.)

Neil goes to the M&G with Minyard in Chicago. He pretends he’s not nervous, but he is. If the endless queue in front of the book shop is any indication, this won’t go down well.

And in fact it doesn’t.

It doesn’t because the fans recognize him, they start asking for selfies and autographs and all hell breaks loose. When Minyard finally appears he just glares at him, at the caos around him and tells him to fuck off. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jean welcomes him home with a bottle of vodka and Neil doesn’t drink, but he’s with Jean and Jean knows everything about him. He downs more than half a bottle before he finally passes out on the sofa.

Neil wakes up to the sound of his phone pinging and pinging and pinging. There’s phone calls, texts, more phone calls and hundreds, probably thousands of twitter notifications. Apparently, drunk Neil had tweeted “a mynyard s a douche” from his official account. Neil groans. Allison is gonna kill him.

Turns out that it’s Kevin Day who tries to kill him.

It goes like this.

When Neil had said that Kevin Day could punch him in the face and he’d thank him, he hadn’t meant it l i t e r a l l y.

And yet he’s at the Christmas gala with his team in South Carolina. He’d thought the 12-hour drive drom Chicago to Columbia would be the worst part of it. But apparently Kevin Day is set on changing his mind.

Neil doesn’t even get to say “Hi” to him before Kevin grabs the collar of his shirt and hoists him up against the wall. He almost chokes him. But it’s the words he utters that really do the thing. “Don’t you ever insult my brother again.”

It’s Nicky Hemmick, the Seakings’ physio, who picks him up off the floor as soon as Kevin leaves. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” Neil asks while Nicky’s busy checking Kevin hasn’t seriously hurt him. “He’s just a protective asshole.” “But I don’t even know who’s his brother.” “Ever heard of A Minyard?”

And that fucker winks at him, he winks at him.

Neil tells himself that Nicky deserves it when he pushes him away and makes a run for Kevin. If he runs fast enough, he should be able to get to him before Kevin leaves the building. The problem is that, when he catches up to Kevin, he doesn’t even think twice before shouting “I didn’t know he was your brother, but in my defence he really is a douche.”

This time there’s nobody who can help him when Kevin punches him in the face and knocks him out. Sometimes Neil wishes he was born mute.

Things only escalate from that moment on.

Neil wakes up on a hospital bed, Minyard staring down at him. Maybe it’s the painkillers. It must be the painkillers. But he’s pretty sure he hears Minyard saying “if it wasn’t for Andrew, I would’ve left you to die and blamed Kevin,” before he blacks out again.

The second time he wakes up, he just thinks he’s still hallucinating (or maybe he’s dead?) because he sees double. There’s two Minyards staring down at him. He doesn’t even try to make sense of what he’s seeing, he just closes his eyes.

The third time he wakes up, he sees Kevin on his bedside and Neil tries to fake his own death. The ECG beating next to his bed betrays him, though. “I’ve been told I have to apologise if I don’t want a knife between my ribs.”

Kevin begins telling him that he is the adoptive brother of Drew, also known as Andrew Minyard. Who also happens to have a twin brother, Aaron Minyard, neurologist by day and fake-Andrew by night. Who didn’t really like the idea of anyone lying to his twin. That’s why he’d been rude to him in Chicago.

And would he please, please, talk with Andrew because he’s become insufferable since Neil had stopped texting him? He’s been threatening to kill Aaron at least twice as much as he used to.

“He even said that he’s miscalculated everything, you had a crush on me and didn’t like him at all -“ “Fuck’s sake NO, I wouldn’t touch your pompous ass with ten feet pole.”

And it’s at that point that Andrew barges into the hospital room telling Kevin to shut up. Looks Neil in the eyes, says “you just because of what you said to Kevin” and then he kisses him. He kisses him.

Years and years later, after some more pining, thousands of kisses and a key to an apartment in Chicago, Andrew would say that he had not done such a thing. But he had, oh he had.

Years and years later Andrew would also admit that the main character of the Tragic Waste of Skin saga was actually inspired by Neil. Apparently, he’d seen Neil’s face on one of Kevin’s sports mags, he’d read the transcript of the interview that had made a goalkeeper cry on tv and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

Years and years later Andrew would write the final book of his saga. The dedication would say: “To Neil, Marry me? Yes or no? Drew”

Years and years later Neil would tweet from his official account “a minyard’s still a douche”. Attached to the tweet a photo of Andrew glaring at the camera with his hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate, a wedding ring on his finger.

[annteasocial]

hiya! please may i request madara with a affectionate s/o who falls asleep often out of nowhere. love your writing so far!! ^^

Omg I’m so sorry this took so long I’ve been busy recently so I couldn’t get around to writing X’D. Also procrastination aaaaaaaa. Hopefully you like this scenario I wrote TwT.

Madara X Affectionate Sleepy S/O

The bell signalling school had ended rang throughout Yumenosaki, filling the air with chatter as the students packed away their things, ready to head home. Likewise, you quickly began stuffing your bag with your things until you heard a jingle from your phone, signalling you had a message.

 ‘Hey (Y/N)! Sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home with you today. My costume needs some readjusting and Kuro-san offered to fix it for me so he’s going to take some measurements again. I promise I’ll walk you home tomorrow!’

 You smiled at the message before replying to your boyfriend. ‘It’s fine! I can wait at school until you’re done!’ You hit the send button and stuffed your phone back into your blazer pocket. “Hmm…what should I do whilst I wait for Madara…” you wondered aloud, slumping back down onto your seat. “I should probably schedule out the events I’m organising for the units since everyone’s getting busier. Ryuusetai have a mini concert at an amusement park and Knights have a fan meet the day after…” You pondered the upcoming events and started jotting them down into your diary.

 It had been half an hour, more or less, since you started working and there were no new messages from Madara. “Maybe Kiryu-senpai had some other stuff to do with the costume,” you spoke to yourself again. You yawned, stretching your arms above your head and craning your neck to the side, a loud pop resonating through the room. You sighed in satisfaction and slowly rested your head between your folded arms before nodding off.

 ~~~

 “Thanks for helping me fix my costume Kuro-san, wouldn’t have been able to do it without you!” Madara flashed Kuro a thumbs up, the red haired karate club captain giving him casual smile in return. “Don’t sweat it, wasn’t too big of a deal.” He waved it off and packed up the sewing materials scattered on the workbench. Madara pulled out his phone, curious to see if he had gotten any new messages from you. His eyes widened slightly when he read the last message that you had sent him.

 “She’s still at school? Argh, I feel bad for making her wait for me.”

 He frowned slightly before turning back to Kuro. “I’m gonna head off now, (Y/N)’s still waiting for me at school,” Madara chimed, waving at the red head. “You sure do have a loyal partner don’t ya,” he smirked, the brown haired man reciprocating the action. “I love (Y/N), they’re my precious treasure!” Madara sung and strode out of the room.

 “She’s probably still in her classroom, I’ll check there first.” The third year thought, quickening his pace. He quietly opened the door to your classroom to find you asleep at your desk with your head nestled between your arms.

 Madara smiled softly, admiring your peaceful sleeping figure. He tiptoed over, careful not to wake you and began to run his fingers through your tresses. “Did you miss me?” He whispered softly, continuing to stroke your head affectionately.

 A dim beam of late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the window, the light on your closed lids waking you up. “Mmm…? What time it is?” You mumbled to yourself, completely unaware that your boyfriend was sitting next to you, watching your sleepy, dazed state with amusement. You yawned again and turned your head, seeing Madara’s profile observing you, his chin rested on his propped up arm.

 “Did you have a nice sleep?”

 It took you a few moments to process that he was now here within this space.

 “Wha- Eh!? Madara?! Wait when did you get here?” You stammered making him chuckle. “Only a couple of minutes ago, you were asleep in here and you looked too cute, so I didn’t want to wake you up,” he grinned. You pouted slightly and began to pack your things again.

 You fumbled around for your stuff, still drowsy having just woken up, until Madara gently took your bag from you. “You’re still half asleep, I’ll pack your stuff for you,” he smiled, and you gave him a small “mmkay” in return. The brown haired man swiftly arranged your belongings neatly inside your bag whilst you swayed slightly in your chair, wanting to go back to sleep.

 “Alright, I’m done, let’s go home no–woah!” You stood up abruptly and embraced Madara, cutting his sentence off. “I’m still tired…” you murmured. The brown haired man didn’t really know what to say as you tightened your hold on him.

 The two of you stood there for a little while, feeling each other’s heartbeats. “(Y/N), we should get going now…(Y/N)?” Madara pulled away slightly only to see that you had fallen back asleep whilst standing up. “Ah, what am I going to do with you,” he sighed as he slowly turned around, letting you slump onto his back.

 “Upsy daisy…” he muttered, lifting you up on his back. You immediately nuzzled into the back of his neck, making the older boy flush slightly as he carried you back home.

 ~~~

 “(Y/N), wake up, we’re at your house now.” Madara shifted around and you woke up, rubbing your eyes groggily. “Ah…thanks for taking me home Madara…” you smiled softly and went to hug your boyfriend again. You pulled away shortly and quickly pecked his lips before turning to go inside your house.

 “See you tomorrow!”

 “It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

 You blushed slightly from embarrassment. “I-I just woke up okay…” you mumbled defensively, earning a light hearted laugh from the senior.

 “Love you~”

 “Love you too…”