#whether it be keeping up a routine or staying true to my word or doing more than what is required of me

[noxtivagus]

T_T

[devotioncrater]

the levels of repression in both house and wilson…yet they are opposite of one another. house routinely makes gay innuendos (whether sexual and/or romantic) towards wilson, yet wilson doesn’t take him serious at all.

and this constant rejection from wilson is both a buoy as well as a giant wall. house pushes their relationship time and time again. wilson refuses to let the nature of it change. house brings up a romantic getaway, wilson shoots him down. house sabotages wilson moving out, wilson doesn’t stay. house allows himself to be The Other Woman regardless of how bonnie or wilson’s other ex-wives feel. in a way, it boosts his ego and makes him feel special. he is allowed to have wilson in this way.

amber is an extension of house; she is house in a woman’s body. house can accept it because he has expressed before that if wilson were a woman, they would’ve been married already. so why can’t the same be true for wilson? let him find a woman version of house. house loves wilson so much that he goes into a risky surgery to try and save amber. this is his Place simply because wilson and him cannot escape the confines of compulsive heterosexuality.

and it is compulsive. wilson never feels good enough or secure enough in a relationship outside of his and house’s. he cheats, he lies, he manipulates. all because at his core, wilson’s insecurities render him into a selfish person. he has affairs and he prioritizes house over his wives, because he doesn’t feel like his own wants/needs are met by his wives. or that they should/deserve to be met. he doesn’t know how to communicate them!! he maybe even feels guilty for having them. because even to house, he communicates these desires in metaphors or pranks or whatever other indirect way he sees fit. but the difference between house and his wives is that wilson has no tangible, legal sense of obligation to house. if house doesn’t meet his expressed needs, fuck him!! they don’t owe anything to each other!! the rejection will sting less.

wilson chases women on such a compulsive level that it’s nearly a reaction to whatever house has done. it’s affair after affair. wilson moves in with his patient during the time house is on a ketamine treatment. house, his patient who seemingly no longer needs vicodin. no longer needs him. if wilson is no longer needed, he parasites to the next host. why? because he doesn’t know who he is on his own. why? because he has trouble expressing his own core needs as a person. and as a result, these core (repressed) needs seep out sideways.

so why threaten this sense of safety he gets with keeping house at a platonic level? if they were to entangle into a relationship, wilson would be wrapped under an Obligation Gauze. there is a fear he’d lose house because, historically, all of his relationships end in loss. because, historically, he cannot express his needs to his partners due to his fear of rejection.

and then wilson becomes terminal. and then death becomes bigger than an anxious fear of loss/rejection.

“i need you to tell me that you love me.”

wilson, my brother in christ. house cannot say those words to you because for all the years you’ve known him, you’ve denied him it. the only way house can tell you that he loves you is by burning his home down and faking his death. he is nothing without you. you know it as well as he does. these things remain unspoken because that is the way you’ve molded the relationship to be.

wilson has house on a leash. house runs as far out as possible until the leash yanks him back. when wilson finally trusts house enough to let him go off-leash, house is too conditioned to act as expected.

and this conditioning in house is not just wilson’s doing. it’s primarily house’s own doing. his own self-loathing chains him to wilson’s side. as an addict, yes, but also as a support system. house hates himself so viscerally that it affects every interpersonal relationship he has, including with wilson. but wilson never, ever leaves no matter how bad it gets.

also. who else other than wilson gives him a sense of bodily autonomy? not stacy, not cuddy, not his fellows. wilson doesn’t pity him. wilson enables him. wilson lies for him. house will selfishly keep wilson forever because wilson is all he reliably has.

so house can push and prod wilson into gay romantic/sexual innuendos, but when wilson yanks that leash, he’ll drop it. it’s a buoy for reality checking where he is with wilson. it’s a giant wall for enabling his self-hatred thought process that even his boy best friend has limitations to his love for him (or at least what is acceptable). addict line of thinking.

they both eat each other up like an ouroboros. where does wilson’s repression end and house’s begin?

[therentyoupay]

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? 

thank you so much for this question, lovely!! 🥹💕 it really made me think a lot.... 💕💕💕💕 ultimately, at this stage in my life, i'm really grateful and fortunate to be able to say that much of my career is writing (and reading, and analyzing, and discussing, reporting, etc.).

writing every single day (whether it's emails, dissertation manuscript, journal article manuscript, book chapter drafts for edited volumes, fanfiction, my non-fiction book draft) is totally built into my schedule, my routine, and my day-to-day mindset. ✨

therefore, there isn't really anything "stopping" me from writing (books, fanfiction, and other "personal" and "non-work" projects) in my personal/leisure time in the sense of there being barriers or obstacles (which the ask-game seems to frame the question as), but rather, it is a matter of choices.

how much of my "free" time today can i use to spend time with my husband? and my dog? 💕

would i like to cook a meal today that's more elaborate and time-consuming than usual?

shall i take a new route on my run that will add an extra 30 minutes to my usual timeline?

shall i stay later after work to grab a drink with a co-worker (or arrive earlier to get breakfast with a friend)?

is there a new episode of great british bake-off or barbecue showdown or bridgerton?!

would i, god forbid, like to read fanfiction for pleasure, instead of consuming another audiobook on audible, or listening to a podcast, or reading an academic journal article (because, yes, i do read them for fun, too, lmao)? 😂

or, is this moment now the right time to dive back into reading la sociedad de la nieve, which is my current book i'm using to keep up my spanish (since i gave up on reading pedro páramo until netflix finally releases the reboot and i can watch that first)?

did an Unexpected Adulting Thing™ occur that future-kris will thank present/past-kris for handling ASAP?

it's interesting to note how the wording of the question from the ask-game implies that finding time to write during "free time" is inherently a struggle with barriers... i'm not sure i would go so far as to label this frame as negative, but it... feels a bit limiting, doesn't it???????

instead, i see my free time and how i choose to spend it as a series of abundant choices and opportunities. ✨ each decision about how to spend my free time, whether it's writing or engaging in other activities, should—ideally—contribute to a balanced and fulfilling life. 💕 for me, it's less about overcoming obstacles and more about embracing the variety of experiences available to me. 💕💕💕💕

people have told me all my life, "you have, like, 0 free time!!!!!! how do you do it??!? aren't you exhausted?!? aren't you unwell?!?!?" and while it's true that i definitely had less "free time" in past life stages (😂😬), and i definitely was not as good as picking and choosing my activities in the past as i am now... that's the beauty of maturing and growing up. 😂💕 right? (stats show that women start deeply optimizing their lives from hard-earned wisdom in their 30s, no??? ✨)

nowadays, i also think something people tend to forget about my "free time"/career choices is that... i'm really lucky to have been able to carve out spaces and pathways that have allowed my "work" to... feel like "free time." 💕 (the bonus of having a career that fulfills my needs intellectually, socially, occasionally emotionally, and, above all else, financially. 😂) so, even when i'm not technically having "free time," it still feels that way. 💕 and when i'm enjoying my actual "free time," i'm no longer bogged down by the little voices in our heads that push us too hard (guilt, shame, worry, etc.) in directions that don't serve us, and i'm therefore freer and happier to choose activities and ways of fulfilling my "free time" (resting, connecting with people, being productive for my other passions) and feeling content in whatever i choose. 💕😘 (it took MANY YEARS to get to this point LMAO, don't forget that either 😂💕)

ilu! 💕

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

A perspective on social media from a girl who (mostly) had none~

Recently, I created an Instagram account, because I wanted to experience what having a normal social media was like for a change. I haven't been on any traditional social media besides Tumblr since early high school (I am now an adult in college), and I've kept it that way for a reason. I'd had Instagram, Twitter, and maybe even snapchat way back when, all throughout middle school and up into my freshman year of high school. But then I realized what a terrible impact it had on my mental health and also became a bit of a luddite simultaneously. So, after a few bad interactions with social media my freshman year, I'd proven to myself that it did more harm than good in my life, and I got rid of it (seemingly) forever.

Fast forward to me at the start of this summer. I was feeling isolated (back in my hometown, away from my university life), and I had a thought that almost instantly became a plan. I would get Instagram for the summer. At the time, it felt brilliant. I could experience social media properly as an adult, study the effect it had on me, stay in touch with friends while I was lonely, and have an opportunity to post some of the film photos I was proud of. The excellent caveat was that I had given myself a time restraint. By the end of summer, I'm to delete the account no matter my experience. I told my friends about my plan and made them promise me that they would not let me keep it any longer than I'd stated.

So, I make an account, and it's fun! I'm following all of my friends, I'm connecting. I get the dopamine rush of posting for the first time, getting follow requests and comments from my lovely friends, all very enthusiastic for this experiment. But even in the high, I could already see that nothing had changed. My brain was systematically the same brain it had been all those years ago, and I knew almost instantly, that I would have no trouble deleting the account when the time came.

Now here's the thing: I don't regret making it. I've had fun, but the way that it almost immediately shifted my focus and scattered my routine has been sort of mortifying. I've found myself many times mindlessly scrolling and thinking, "I thought I was better than this? I thought I'd bested the brain rot and short attention span of social media?" But what I've realized is that there's really no such thing. The only way to do that (other than maybe not being neurodivergent but uh, I can't help that) was to just not have it at all.

And the process as well has made me reflect on Tumblr as a platform. What I've come away with thus far is that Tumblr, despite being a far less profitable or populated social media than most, is a far healthier online space (for the most part. it still has it's issues, like a hivemind mentality at times, etc.). I've seen posts where people discuss this before, but it's become so true to me: Tumblr is one of the only social medias that truly encourages discussion. It's the only social media where people aren't scared of words. Nowhere else could I make this post, nowhere else would something this long and convoluted gain any traction or incentivize any interaction. And though I have no idea if this will get any notes, I do know that it's possible. Being so used to that, it's been so strange to try and wrap my head around the short form content I'm fed over there (I think TikTok would put me in my grave). Whether it's the caption on a post, the length of a video, the comments, the words accompanying a story, language and content is so restricted. There is so little to be said and so little to add.

As I've played around with stories, I've had a blast simply making myself laugh and posting little photo collages of things I've been up to or making shitty ms paint stories with my random thoughts. But what's so strange to me is I'll make a story, post it, and then look at how much I've written and feel ashamed for it. And how can you not when the function of a story is to last a few seconds? Sure, Instagram is meant to be a primarily visual platform, but these are not novels I am writing, they are simply thoughts. Sentences. And I look at them and feel embarrassed immediately for putting so much of myself on display.

Which only feeds into my final thoughts on the thing. Relative anonymity on social media is a fucking gift. We are so incredibly blessed on this hellsite to be given the opportunity to create a blog rid of any semblance of our true identity, and still create a community. We can post about the things we love unashamedly, discuss our interests at length, and make friends with mutuals, all while never feeling obligated to give any of your real self away. I think that is the most beautiful version of an online space we can cultivate. I post something a little bit goofy on my Instagram, and I immediately fear the way people (in my real life) will perceive the REAL version of myself. I think constantly about how the version of me in other people's minds is being systematically molded by the presence I have on that damn website, and it's crippling. I'll never get to be my truest self there, because I'm too scared of a somewhat uncontrolled group of people knowing so much about me. But here, fuck it. I can say the most untamed, feral things, and somebody will like it and maybe even play along, all while having no idea who that thought belongs to. There's a peace there.

Lastly, on an unserious note, this website has altered the way I talk about things in an online space that I think normal people just are not equipped for. I will say something on my Instagram that I assume is recognizably a joke or meant to be taken lightly, and I'll have somebody respond to it in a manner that disregards the sarcasm or silliness all together. I'm like dude, this is clearly a funny, a silly even. Perhaps I'm just too weird for normal social media, and I can accept that. But honestly, I think so many people would benefit from being their true selves in real life only, and approaching their online space as something different entirely. Let the world and the people around you discover who you are as a person, not the curated profile you have on some evil website. Delete your social media. Embrace peace and discover a sense of self that is separate from the shallow online world. And maybe get a tumblr. It's pretty cool here.

[lookedlikethebins]

🪻 fic masterlist 🪻

howdy! links go to my ao3 (andfacedown) with full tags/descriptions/warnings. thank you for reading!

[updated September 22, 2024]

✤ ongoing producer george & TA matty AU: oneshots (3)

written in a magazine: post-satvb/on hiatus; a music magazine sends someone to write a profile about matty. he reads the article and starts to see himself, his life with george, through the understanding of the public for the first time. yes, now he's home from tour, but why hasn't anyone understood that with George, he's never felt like he's actually left...

✤ into spiral patterns of you (my love) (1/5): hiatus/married with kids era; george falls into a sudden deep depressive episode for the first time in over ten years. matty wants to be able to keep the entire house and family routine afloat without a single hiccup, but it's very difficult when he's so distracted. so worried...

belief in everything you're saying: self-titled era; twist on the lyrics/melancholy of Somebody Else; george overhears matty's last ex ask him if it's true he's really found somebody else so soon after their breakup. starts him thinking back to the moments that got them together. the moment he became that somebody else he keeps hearing so much about...

looked after & loved: ~1k words; vague eraly mfc era; dating matty & george. it's the middle of the night. they're on a tour bus (again) and matty can't sleep. he can hear (almost) everyone else sleeping. he wishes he could be near george. hear only george.

the way you know me: [E] post-bfiafl/atvb era; married George & Matty. matty returns home from a horribly unproductive day helping out in the studio. he feels exhausted, overstimulated, and disconnected from home—from george. he asks george, silently and then with words, to remind him of what it feels like to be home, to be loved, to be taken care of.

arriving home 04:17:43: ~590 words; george arriving home from a trip away and being greeted at the door, despite the early hour.

Where We Are Together: self titled—bfiafl era; four moments of Matty and George's developing relationship—from self-titled to bfiafl—that all center around the safety, consistency, and reliability of being in George's car together; that feeling of "you’re in a car with a beautiful boy..." (but this time he always loves you back)

do you need me? (you're all i need): early abiior/mfc tour; Matty hasn't entirely caught up to the speed of touring again (yet). His body is tired and his bones creak and his clothes don't fit in any way that feels particularly nice. George lends him his own shirt before a radio interview on their day off and Matty remembers just how it feels to be so wholly loved, and want to love in return (in any way his body can).

i can't exist inside my own head: post-bfiafl/atvb era; married George & Matty. George isn't feeling his best and feels the need to apologize to Matty for ruining their night. Based on the post "Sex is cool but has anyone stayed awake with you just because you are feeling low?"

Someone to Watch You: backstage atvb, Matty is trying to comfort George and lift his sunken, sad mood (if he could find him first...) when a crew member needs Matty to quickly watch her daughter visiting for a Mummy at Work day. Matty is definitely not her mother and definitely still needs to find George. Laughs and child-logic aside, love is the center that will always hold.

if it was you that made my body: abiior era, during their time at the country house recording studio. Matty has a (slow, almost unnoticed) panic about whether God created him, or if he was left untouched while others around him were made divine. Like George. Always his George. Matty couldn't be the only one left to struggle like this, could he?

The Hours of the Left Behind: a meditation about George's POV in the hours right after dropping Matty off at the airport for Barbados. With Ross and Adam, he just tries to remember how to function and feel and process something so difficult and complicated. Character study-type fic with a hopeful ending and plenty of best friends supporting each other.

(Be My) God and Country (2/2): the proposal/wedding fic (ooften referred to as the "g&c" universe)! bfiafl/right before atvb era; Matty realizes during therapy a previous (ignored) conversation with George, about the engagement of their old neighbors, was his very subtle attempt to ask if Matty would marry him. Matty promptly resolves the misunderstanding with none of the finesse but all of the sincerity. Chapter 2 is all wedding, baby!

and we go ‘round and ‘round: the Anobrain lyric fic! Self titled era; George and Matty going for their usual, undefined drive to the outside of town. Matty says, as the song goes... "man I'm so high, I think I love you." and things go from there...

[malachiexists13]

CHARACTER/S: Giyuu Tomioka [He/Him] x Yuutsu (OC) [She/Her] PROMPT/GENRE: Protecting Someone/Love Confession ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP: Acquaintances/Mutual Pining REQUESTED BY: @nunezs-stuff WORD COUNT: 700+ //TW: - Description of Violence; Sanemi being Sanemi (rude/projecting onto others); Cussing;

DISCLAIMER: This was written by a minor, someone under the age of 18. If that makes you uncomfortable, please DNI and keep scrolling.

NOTES: Part 2 to Depths of Disparity. I don’t usually do part 2s for my oneshots but this seemed interesting enough to write. I probably won’t write a part 3 though. Same situation as before, Yuutsu does not belong to me and these characters are probably a bit out-of-character but oh well. Also I didn’t know whether Yuutsu is supposed to be a Hashira but in this, she’s not written as one. Sorry if she was supposed to be–

SUMMARY: Yuutsu, a gentle and sweet looking girl. But not even she would stand idly when someone insulted the one she loved. Even if that someone was the second strongest of the Demon Slayer Corp.

PREVIOUS PART: Depths of Disparity

AO3: Unfiltered Honesty

Sanemi Shinazugawa; the Wind Hashira was a man of excellent skill and strength but poor temper. He was quick to think the worst of others and his fellow Hashira were no exception, especially the Water Hashira, Giyuu Tomioka. It had slowly become routine by this point. Shinazugawa hated how quiet Tomioka was, and how he rarely interacted with others. He often antagonized the man, calling him arrogant and accusing him of having a superiority complex… All because Tomioka claimed to be ‘different’ from the other Hashira. A poor temper, indeed. 

It was something that Tomioka tried to ignore. After all, it was completely useless to argue with someone who had already made up their mind about something. And, a part of Tomioka believed it was better if Sanemi hated him as much as he acted. But it would seem today was no different. 

Ubuyashiki-sama had decided to send both Tomioka and Shinazugawa out on a mission. A disaster waiting to happen, really. Shinazugawa was less than pleased to be informed that out of all the Hashira to be sent on a mission with, it was with Tomioka. “Ugh, this is awful…” the Wind Hashira groaned as they stood outside Headquarters. Tomioka stood awkwardly off to the side, choosing to stay silent. But that didn’t stop Shinazugawa from directing his anger towards him. “I mean, seriously? I have to be sent on a mission with you of all people?” 

“It’s disrespectful, that’s what it is. And–” Shinazugawa continued on, ranting and raving about how much he didn’t want to do this. But Tomioka slowly tuned him out, having noticed Yuutsu off in the distance. She was walking along the path with her umbrella in hand, seemingly to enjoy the scenery. Everything around Tomioka seemed to freeze as he watched her, completely entranced by her and her alone. But the daydream didn’t last long. 

Tomioka was roughly dragged from it; Shinazugawa had grabbed onto the collar of his uniform as he glared at him, “Are you even fucking listening to me?! What’s got you so distracted– oh,” Shinazugawa looked over his shoulder and spotted Yuutsu. “Her? You’re actually into that dumb and naive girl? Pfft– she may be stupid, Tomioka, but she’d never love a pathetic and arrogant ass like you. Get that into your thick skull.” 

An awkward silence filtered into the air. Tomioka said nothing. What could he say? He could argue that Yuutsu wasn’t stupid, that she wasn’t dumb or naive. …But everything else Shinazugawa had said was true, wasn’t it? “Hey! Do you really have nothing to say for yourself?! You–” “Shinazugawa-san, I suggest you take your hand off him.” Both men blinked in surprise; neither had even noticed Yuutsu approaching them. But there she stood, staring at Shinazugawa expectantly. Tomioka had never noticed how… little emotion her eyes carried. 

“And? It’s none of your business. It’s a matter between Hashira, so scram.” Shinazugawa glared at her, but she didn’t falter. Instead, Yuutsu grasped Shinazugawa’s wrist, her grip tightening as she harshly yanked his hand off of Tomioka– a crack sounding subtly yet noticeable by the look of pain on Shinazugawa’s face. Tomioka’s gaze widened– had Yuutsu just broken Shinazugawa’s wrist? 

That’s when he noticed the intense anger in her eyes as she stared down the Wind Hashira, still holding tight to his wrist as her tone lowered– “Call me dumb, stupid, naive, whatever–! But you will not insult the person I love.” Shinazugawa yanked his hand away and held his wrist, “Fuckin’ psycho… Fine! He’s your problem now,” Without waiting for a response, Shinazugawa walked off, leaving Yuutsu and Tomioka. 

Tomioka stood frozen in place. Was he afraid or in awe? He couldn’t tell… The girl he loved so deeply had just defended him but also broke the wrist of the second strongest Hashira, not only that but she had also admitted to loving him, too. The feeling of joy that welled up in his chest– a feeling near-unfamiliar… One he did not deserve to indulge– no, he couldn’t– “I apologize for scaring you, my love, but–” Yuutsu’s gentle voice broke Tomioka from his reverie. She stood before him, umbrella in one hand and the other held out towards him. 

“Please stand under the umbrella, it looks like it’s going to rain.” Tomioka blinked, then looked up at the slowly darkening sky before looking back to Yuutsu. He hesitantly took her hand in his, giving a small smile as he moved to stand beside her. Perhaps… Perhaps indulging just this once would be okay.

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

My requests are currently open so here are my guidelines. It is also available as the pinned post on my profile. And I've made a google form for easy requesting convenience but submitting to my inbox is fine too!

[lorei-writes]

Crystal clear water. Whether it’s a fantasy world or daily routine, a sad ballad or a horror fairytale, your stories carry the universal truth that exists in every place, time and space. 

Water can take any form. Sometimes it’s a warm babbling brook, and sometimes it’s a beautiful snowflake dancing in the air. Sometimes you create a sweet love story, and sometimes you throw a crazy mix of folklore, epic and tragedy in our faces. 

Water is a true force of nature. It can be wild, but it will never lie to you. And it really amazes me how you manage to stay true and loyal to yourself, your followers in every work you write, how you’re not afraid to experiment with the form, style, words, music (!) of the text. I still can't forget that fic of yours (it was about Masamune, please, tell me I’m not wrong), where you paid attention to the smallest details including paragraph spacing in order to follow the stylistic choice and narrative tempo.  

And also I’m a big fan of your match-ups. I’ve never seen such a clever combination of psychology, humor and math 💛

At first, I didn't want to let this out of my inbox. I considered keeping it there forever.

Honestly, I do not know how to reply to this. Do I even deserve such praise? I feel the need to shout at you that you're too sweet.

As for the story in question... The one that came to my mind is The song about Princess and The Fox, but that's with Mitsuhide, hmm... So I'm genuinely curious whether that's the one you're referencing, haha. Either way, I'm surprised and so, so, so flattered that something I've made left such a lasting impact. It's... beyond dreams.

Thank you so much <3 Although no words can be enough now.

[ponypuffle]

Luna Tour ~ Chapter 2

A/N: I don't typically write action scenes so I hope I did okay haha. Also, so sorry for the long wait! I've been busy with essays and I just finally finished the last few sentences after being put off for some time

Masterlist + Series Warnings

Pairing: Princess Luna x Fem! Alicorn! Reader

Chapter Summary: [Alternate Universe!] After Celestia's suspicions prove to be true, she's devised a plan to ensure she puts an end to her sister's traitorous ways.

Warning(s): arranged marriage, possessive! mean! princess celestia, violence with luna against celestia and guards, celestia's manipulative (lmk if i've missed something)

Word Count: 1600+

“My love, I’ve arranged a trip for you.” Celestia said from behind you as she brushed your mane in front of the mirror. This was a normal routine that she liked to do with you. She figured it was good bonding time, and being able to brush your mane made sure that you looked pristine to her liking.

You looked up at her through the mirror, seeing her eyes focused on the brush. “A trip?” You held back a squeak in your voice. 

“I’ve scheduled a week-long trip out at a hot spring away from Canterlot. You’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, so be sure you’re packed by tonight.” She said calmly as if she hadn’t planned this on a whim with absolutely no consideration for what you wanted.

The way she worded it made it seem like you were going all on your own. “Is anypony else going on the trip, too?” You asked, a hint of hesitance in your voice.

“Just you.” She started before her eyes met yours in the mirror. “Were you hoping a certain somepony would?” Her eyes were deadpan, striking you with a bout of fear.

“J-Just hoping you would’ve come, too.” You lied with a smile, careful not to raise any suspicion. As much as you knew you’d miss Luna, you knew it was safer to listen to Celestia. So, you did as she told you and had a week’s worth of luggage packed by the evening. 

You were ready to go seek out Luna in hopes of saying goodbye to her, but there were too many guards posted just outside in the halls. You didn’t dare question Celestia about the sudden increase in security, much too anxious of raising unnecessary suspicion. Begrudgingly, you bid goodbye to Celestia the next morning and left on the train to spend time at the hot springs with the company of a few maids and guards whose main concern was keeping you safe rather than conversing.

Now that Celestia had you out of the way, it was time to enact her plan. “It’s time to capture Luna.” She said in a monotone voice to the guards that stayed close by. They were her utmost loyal guards, each one of them exclusively vowing their lives and trust to Celestia. 

She had cleared out the wing of the castle from guards who were unaware of the acts she was about to commit. Storming down the halls with her small army of guards trailing behind her, she reached Luna’s door. A few of the guards held ropes and chains while two designated unicorns held the heavy shackles. With a quick glance at each of her subjects, she opened the door to reveal Luna returning from the porch, closing the stained glass doors behind her.

“Sister.” Luna began before she noticed the guards. “What’s this?” She eyed Celestia up and down in a last minute effort to predict any sudden movements that could mean the end of her.

“You’re being arrested for treason.” Celestia stated calmly, but Luna could hear the venom that dripped from her mouth as she stepped closer and closer to the moon princess only for Luna to step backwards. “I know what you’ve done, Luna. She is my fiance whether you like it or not, and you will be punished for even thinking of defying me!” Celestia spat at her.

Luna’s heart was pounding in her ears, her eyes widened in terror. How did she find out? You and Luna were being so careful, hardly ever meeting until late at night when everypony should be asleep. Did she see the two of you? Why wasn’t she asleep? Why was she resorting to this?

Luna’s mind was clouded with thoughts, tears threatening to spill over. Her fight or flight instinct activated as she darted to the side, hoping for a chance at escape. Celestia let out a growl, snapping towards her younger sister. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Celestia lunged at Luna, tackling her down against the floor. “You cannot escape justice, Luna! Not for what you’ve done!”

The guards watched, alert for any means of escape as Luna cried out in pain. She struggled against Celestia, but to no avail. With a gulp, she shot Celestia with a zap of magic right at her shoulder. Luna resented Celestia for all she’s done, but shooting her own sister only managed to make her feel distraught. 

Celestia flinched backwards, releasing Luna enough for her to escape her grasp. Unfortunately for Luna, the guards had reacted to the threat towards their beloved sun princess. Their yells overwhelmed her ears as she attempted to fly away only to feel a rope tugging at her hind leg. Luna grunted, fighting against the guards pulling at the rope as she burned the rope with a zap of her magic.

Luna set her eyes on the porch, figuring that was the only way out of this mess. She darted towards the doors, but was brought down again. This time, the ropes had found themselves around both of her hind legs and around her midsection. No matter how much she had tried to fly against the ropes, the overpowering strength of the guards together were too much for her.

They brought her down to the ground, dragging her towards them all while she thrashed against the force. She had to escape. This couldn’t be the end of it! She never even got to say goodbye to you! Yet, no matter how desperate she was for escape, the ropes were bound around her much too tightly. 

The guards finally dragged her to be in front of them, her thrashes turned into futile squirms as she grew tired and lost hope. The two unicorns with the shackles in their possession made haste to chain up her legs. As if to seal the deal, a heavy steel collar was locked around her neck, uncomfortably digging into her skin. 

Celestia finally walked over after watching the entire fiasco unfold. “Get up or I’ll have the guards drag you to your cell.” She said as she stepped over her sister’s trembling body.

Luna’s breathing was shaky, groaning as she heaved herself up off the floor. She had been freed of the ropes that tightly dug into her skin, threatening rope burns, but the shackles proved to be worse. Each step was heavy as the chains scraped along the floor. Her head was down in an attempt to relieve some of the strain being put around her neck. All she could do now was follow the hoofsteps of the guards that surrounded her, corralling her into complete submission as they escorted her to her new home.

The trudge there didn’t feel long enough to her. The light slowly dimmed as they reached lower and lower down the castle. She’d never see the sky again, at least, not for a long time. She was thrown into a dark cell that was hardly lit up by the flickering of a torch just outside. The guards chained her up, locked the door, and left. The only pony who remained with Luna was her sister.

Celestia didn’t say a word as she stared down her younger sister in disdain. A part of her almost felt remorse at the sight of dried tears on Luna’s cheeks, but her mind overwhelmingly decided that this was the better option. If Celestia hadn’t felt guilty at the prospect of killing her own sister, she would have done it. But, alas, Celestia couldn’t bring herself to murder her. Imprisonment was simply the next best thing.

Once Celestia left the dungeon, Luna hastily tried to use her magic to teleport her way out, but to no avail. Instead, she grunted as her shackles glowed and sent a jolt of pain where they had been wrapped around. She collapsed from the torture before she tore her attention away from her suffering to the shackles that had a mysterious, turquoise glow. Each one of them had runes carved into them, ones that she recognized from her studies that would weaken magic.

Celestia had truly thought of everything. Luna had almost lost hope up until she had come to the idea of meeting you in your dreams. She was the princess of the night, afterall. Surely she could still meet you there. 

When she let herself fall asleep, she was met with someone unfamiliar. This wasn’t your dream. She sighed before succumbing to another bout of pain as she opened up a portal to move to your dream. The portal closed behind her, but this wasn’t your dream either. 

Her heart dropped. With her magic weakened, she could no longer choose which dream to reach. Every dream was randomized, and with how many ponies there were in Equestria, it could take years to reach you. Yet, Luna had pushed through. She was going to get to you no matter how much suffering she had to go through. You were her only hope…

A week later, you had come back to the castle from your trip, eager to catch a glimpse of Luna. All throughout the day, you hadn’t seen her. You pushed it off as bad luck up until dinner. Where Luna usually sat was empty. No food was served in front of her chair. It was as if she was never meant to be here. “Where’s Luna?” You ventured.

Celestia’s eyes flicked up to yours. “Oh, did she not tell you?” Celestia did her best to sound as convincingly innocent as possible, and she succeeded. “Luna had a sudden opportunity to focus on her scholarly studies elsewhere.”

Your heart ached at the fact that Luna had not bothered to let you know, but you kept questioning Celestia. “Where did she go?”

Celestia shook her head. “She didn’t say. She probably didn’t want any distractions.” She told you with a dismissive tone. 

You swallowed hard as you looked down at your plate, nodding slowly as a weak attempt of acknowledgement. You knew she was under plenty of turmoil, but you never thought she’d stoop as low as to abandon you like this. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Karma.

Pairing: Yandere!Xiao/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count:  2.1k.

TW: Imprisonment, Mentions of Kidnapping, Codependence, Possessive Mindsets, Non-Consensual Touching, Physical Abuse, Slight Victim-Blaming.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Xiao knew that this was what he deserved.

This, all of it, everything. Whatever the world had to throw at him, all the things he’d earned over centuries of bloodshed and death and guilt that grew more crippling with each passing day. He’d come to terms with that, and if he was being honest with himself, he might admit that he was growing numb to the pain, that despite his distaste, violence didn’t seem as utterly unpalatable as it used to. He wasn’t thankful for it, he didn’t want it, but he was resigned, apathetic, too used to it to care the way he used to, when fighting left him as battered as his enemies. He'd grown accustomed to it. He’d adapted.

He just wasn’t used to this. A new sort of discomfort. A different kind of pain.

He just wasn’t used to you being the source of his karmic suffering, whether or not you realized it was quite that poetic.

He’d earned it. He knew that. He’d earned every part of his current punishment – your glare, your locked jaw, the unadulterated loathing that emanated off of you in waves, unignorable from the moment he shrugged open the heavy, wooden door to his crowded room on the inn’s top floor. He’d managed to stave off the urge to use chains, ropes, anything more solid and more restraining than an idle threat and a locked door, but you were smart enough to stay balled up in the furthest corner, your knees pulled into your chest and your eyes on the floor, narrowed with an intensity he’d only ever seen in demons, moments before their deaths. It hurt him to see, the stance too defensive not to be learned, but it was better than the alternative. He’d caught you on the balcony, once or twice, leaning over the railing or admiring the view, and…

You could’ve slipped. You could’ve tried to jump. He shouldn’t have lost his temper, but you shouldn’t have been so reckless. It’d been dangerous, even you were still too naïve to see that.

Xiao grit his teeth, shaking his head as he forced himself to focus on the matter at-hand. You didn’t move as he approached, only shrinking further into yourself, becoming something small, something timid, a form of passive resistance you’ve perfected, in the weeks since you last put up a real fight. If he was feeling any less patient, he might’ve resorted to less honorable methods, throwing you over his shoulder and dragging you through his routine of self-indulgence despite your attempts to struggle against him. He’d tried it before, broken his own promises countless times, but it was almost never worth the way you’d cry afterwards, like he’d hurt you, like he’d done anything wrong. Like you could expect him to do anything less, when you were determined to be so stubborn.

So, instead, he tried talking. Talking was more peaceful. He didn’t like talking, but you did, and he was trying to be more considerate of what you liked. “I’m back.”

He waited, but there was no response. That was fine. He was fine. He couldn’t say he’d never given you a reason to ignore him. “You’re not reading,” He tried, again, fighting to keep his voice even. You tended to flinch, whenever he got too loud. “It’d be a better use of your time than sulking around, like this.”

You didn’t look at him, your voice muffled by your self-made haven. “You keep burning my books.”

Burning? That sounded like something he would do, as an act of precaution or anger or the same petty vengeance creatures so far beneath him were so prone to. It’d probably been one of the anthologies you were so fond of – folklore hiding under the guise of real history. Usually, he didn’t pay it much mind, the liberal retellings of events no living mortal could possibly be old enough to have witnessed, but he didn’t care for it when you found value in such trash. Stories about the Adepti were far too common in Liyue literature, and you’d always been the type to ask questions, to try to pry your way into subjects you could never hope to comprehend. It was better to eliminate the problem entirely. That was how he’d survived for so long, among humans -- terminating issues before they could arise.

But, you wouldn’t understand that. And even if you did, it wouldn’t do anything to heal the wound he’d already created.

He was beginning to think nothing he tried would ever be enough to mend your anger, not when you were so content to tear at the stitching yourself.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” He wasn’t sure if he had, but you didn’t correct him, only squaring your shoulders, digging your nails into your legs, going even further to block him out, push him away, isolate yourself and leave him to suffer for your insubordination. Xiao rolled his eyes, scowling to himself, but whatever irritation he could summon was quickly replaced by his exhaustion, that perpetual desire to fall into your arms and have you welcome him willingly, lovingly, the way you used to before he decided he had to ruin it. He was tempted to touch you, to reach out, to cup your cheek or wrap an arm around you or draw you close by force, rather than natural attraction, but he thought better of it, crouching by your side, instead, letting his back hit the wall with a heavy thud.

When he opened his mouth, his tongue felt heavier, his throat hoarse. Like the weight of his conscious had found yet another way to make itself known. “You hate me.”

It was a fact, like the color of the sky or the scent of the air before a storm. It was true, both of you already knew that, but you were kind enough to hesitate, lifting you head just high enough to see him. For him to see you, tiny and terrified. A trembling rabbit that knew better than to hope for mercy from a hawk. “I do.”

It stung more than it had any right to. “And there’s nothing I can do make you stop hating me.”

You laughed, at that, the sound breathy and sardonic, melodic and unabashed, akin to bird songs and wind chimes and every other beautiful thing Xiao could think of, even in its most beaten down state. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to deafen himself because he knew nothing would ever be half as lovely as that laugh, but you were talking before he could act on the impulse. That was for the best, really. Acting on impulse was what got him into this, and he wasn’t eager to drive you away any further. “I don’t have any other choice,” You started, your tone light, your anger softened into something playful. The kind of tender rage only you were capable of. “If I could choose not to hate you, I would. You were my friend, and if I could find any way to justify your actions, you’d still be my friend. I don’t want to think of you as anything else.” You paused, letting out a deep breath, relaxing slightly. Xiao couldn’t bring himself to celebrate the small victory. “I don’t want to hate you, but I have to. You see that, right? After everything you’ve done to me, I have to hate you.”

He deserved this, and you deserved to say it. He deserved to have his heart broken, crushed and shattered in his chest, and you deserved to be the one to break it. “I don’t want you to hate me, either.” It felt more intimate than it should’ve, a confession rather than common knowledge. You might’ve teased him for it, months ago, smiled and said something about softening him up. Now, your frown only deepened. “But, I need to do this. Your safety comes first. If something ever happened to you, I’d—”

Even in his own mind, his logic faltered. ‘If something ever happened to you’, like he hadn’t already done more damage than any monster ever could. It might’ve been more redeemable if he was honest, if he admitted he was doing this for himself, because he wanted to, because just for an hour, a minute, a few key seconds, he was idiotic enough to think he deserved to have you, permanently, whether or not you wanted to have him.

But, he couldn’t say that. He didn’t know how. His mouth wouldn’t form the right words, so he was left to say the wrong ones, his tone taking a sharp turn towards hostile as he spoke. “The door isn’t locked. I’m not keeping you here. You can leave, if you’re really that miserable.”

You shifted, and Xiao’s throat went dry. He knew the answer, and yet, it still hurt to hear it in your voice, to know you were capable of inflicting such insufferable pain. “If I try to, will you let me?”

He wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t, he couldn’t even tell himself he’d try. He’d hunt you down to the ends of Teyvat if he had to, spend the rest of his immortality finding you and making sure you never had the chance to do something so short-sighted again. He could make the guilt more bearable, promising himself he’d take care of you, that since he couldn’t do away with the cage entirely, he’d do his best to make your prison a comfortable one, but you’d still be unhappy, you’d still hate him. He’d hate himself, too, but that might be the one aspect of your relationship he thought he could stand. If nothing else, Xiao didn’t make himself a stranger to self-loathing.

“I love you,” He mumbled, as if that counted for anything. “So much. More than you could possibly understand.”

“I know.” You were the one to bridge the gap, this time, a hesitant hand coming to rest over his. Something in his chest tightened, and for a moment, Xiao had to wonder if it was possible for a mortal to be so cruel. “But, I don’t love you. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

You moved to pull away, fear fading into sympathetic pity, but Xiao didn’t want your pity, he didn’t want you to go back to hiding from him, trembling and screaming and treating him like some monster, a beast waiting to lash out. That’s what he was, really, but he didn’t have to admit it. He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to let himself believe he’d fallen that far, and he didn’t want to let you treat him as if he had.

His grip was too tight, a whimper escaping your parted lips as he caught you by the wrist, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when it was so easy to jerk you towards him, forcing you out of your pathetic, laughable shelter and into his lap, his free arm latching onto your waist before you had a chance to pull away. The remorse was reflexive, immediate and instinctual, but for the first time, he allowed himself to ignore it, to bury it underneath the pleasant warmth of your skin against his and the bliss that came with being so close to you, with burying his face in your shoulder, with indulging every necessity he’d denied himself in the name of your comfort. Your hands were already on his chest, your entire body shaking as you made a weak attempt to push him away, but Xiao was stronger than you, and he loved you so much more than you could ever hate him. This was fair. That had to be enough to make it fair.

You shifted, the air catching in your lungs, but Xiao only bared his teeth, letting pointed fangs ghost over the side of your neck before he could regret scaring you. Maybe he wanted to scare you. Maybe it’d be better, if you were scared of him. At least then, he wouldn’t have to keep playing dutiful lover. 

“Don’t move,” He snarled, and instantly, you went still. He could feel your heart racing in your chest, hear the cracked sob you failed to swallow, but he wanted this, he needed this. You’d get used to it, with time. You might even begin to appreciate the weeks he spent coddling you, once you were exposed to the alternative. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need this. I need you to let me have this.” He paused, giving you just enough to time to stiffen, to realize he wasn’t letting go. To realize he was never letting go, even if that meant you only grew to hate him more. “I don’t care if you love me. I need you.” 

Because he’d already gotten what he deserved. He’d already suffered, anguished, submitted himself fully to karma and reaped the consequences. The lesson had been drilled into him a thousand times, by his own hand another hundred. He already knew pain.

He’d already gotten what he deserved.

For once, he wanted to know what it would be like to get what he wanted, instead.

[caffernnn]

Do you still need me? And Haru for the ask game!

Haru wasn’t really sure when it had started or why, but evenings like this did… something to his defenses. It had become routine, watching the sky set stage for the moon, winding down with quiet tasks around his home, engaging in the practice of reflection. The lull of it all made him comfortable, made him honest.

Watching Makoto walk around the kitchen with ease, putting away clean dishes and talking about his day like this was his own home, like he was meant to be doing exactly this, it struck Haru (not for the first time) how much Makoto had grown since they arrived in Tokyo. Change made people uneasy, and growing amidst change felt clumsy, but Makoto had been meeting the challenges of growing older with a grace built out of semi-reckless hope. Living on his own, taking on major academic workloads, being a mentor and a motivator and a leader — he’d taken on putting his fears in his back pocket and carving out a place for himself in the future he wanted, like it was always his to create, like it was always his to want. Haru, bearing witness to all of this, getting to see Makoto become Makoto firsthand, was immensely awestruck and proud in a way that he couldn’t find enough words for.

Tonight, that pride mixed with his own fear he didn’t dare voice usually, but spilled out from a wrecked smile now all the same: “do you still need me around?”

“Well, I’ve got the dishes handled, but that’s not what you meant, is it?”

Apropos of nothing, a barely-breathed question with a weighted admission still sitting between them, Makoto turned with a hum and considered his response. This, too, was something new they feeling their way through together: not retreating from insecurities, learning how to navigate the uncomfortable but important things out loud. Another thing that scared Haru (scared them both a little), but he felt Makoto was adjusting to over time like one day it’d be second nature. Even though it was hard to sit still or meet Makoto’s eyes without slamming the emotional door he’d just opened, he stayed in the room and tried, which was enough for Makoto to continue without deflecting or retreating himself.

“Is it okay to say I’d still want you by my side, whether I needed you around or not?”

Haru stayed quiet as Makoto sat down in front of him, one hand laying palm up on the table. Haru looked down at it, lazily drew patterns on Makoto’s hand with his finger, trying to imagine being wanted, simply and unconditionally. “That wouldn’t be too bad, I guess.”

“Haru, I… it’s easier to calm down and remember who I am when you’re around. God, I can’t imagine how much harder leaving Iwatobi would’ve been without knowing you’d be around too, helping me get used to… all of this.”

“You could’ve done it. You’ve done a lot of ‘this’ on your own already.”

“Thank you, but that’s not what I’m getting at.”

Makoto takes and squeezes Haru’s hand, imploring him to look up. Wide blue meets gently crinkled green and Makoto continues.

“Sure, I could be exploring Tokyo alone, having dinner alone, but you’ve made sure that I don’t have to do everything on my own all the time. You make me happy, Haru, and that’s enough. By letting me still stand by you, by choosing to stand by me in turn… that’s more than enough for me, okay?”

Haru swallows, nods — he knows this is true, this unwavering call to keep choosing each other, and his doubts quiet down for the moment in the face of earnest appreciation. He’s red when trying stutter out a “me too, it’s the same for me,” Makoto immediately responding with a small laugh and understanding nod of his own.

The moon rises, they’re here together, and in this moment, it’s enough.

(Send me a prompt, if you want!)

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance III

Character: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,581

Warnings: None

Premise: In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Childe my favorite character, how I love to torture you.

But genuinely I really like how this one came out.

Childe

Childe craned his neck to stare at the clock on the wall behind him. Sighing at the lateness of the afternoon he turned back towards the papers in his lap, trying desperately to focus, to not let his thoughts drift off to the argument that had taken place in the morning.

It had started out simple enough. Childe had informed you that he might be gone for some time, as the Tsaritsa had requested a high-level reconnaissance mission, and Childe was to be the one to lead it. He thought that you react much the way that you always had, assurances of his success, light-hearted reminders to stay safe, and a goodbye kiss as you two settled back into a normal routine before the day of departure. Instead however, your lips had slanted into a frown, and you stopped making your breakfast to turn and face your partner.

“Childe, I wish you wouldn’t always take things on yourself.”

“What do you mean darling?” Childe felt a wave of surprise wash over him. After all, what else was he supposed to do?

“I mean that you’re being entirely too reckless Childe. You know that you have too high a profile to be doing stuff like this. I… I would like you to sit this one out. Just this one.”

Childe couldn’t help but laugh, whether out of irritation or genuine amusement he wasn’t sure of. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I can’t do that. No leader worth their salt would send their underlings off alone, even if they are some of the weakest underlings in the world. No one’s been able to pull the wool over me yet darling, it’ll be perfectly alright.”

“You’re not listening to me,” your voice picked up in intensity. “Childe I really try, I try to remind myself that you’re a Harbinger and able to take care of yourself; but sometimes it’s just too much. This is too much.”

“You’re being silly,” Childe said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I can’t disobey the Tsaritsa. She wishes me to do this so I will. It’s as simple as that.”

“The Tsaritsa is far away, she has hundreds, thousands under her command. She won’t bat an eye at your safety.”

“Like you said, I can take care of myself.”

“But what if one day you can’t? What if, what if one day you don’t come back. Please, just this once; just this once don’t go.”

“I know that the length of time is upsetting, but you can’t react like this every time I have to go away for a while. I promise that you’ll have me all to yourself afterwards.”

“It’s not about that Childe! Please, please listen to me. I’m worried about your safety. I’m worried one of these days you’re going to end up in a fight too big even for you. What will you do then? What will your underlings do? What will I do? Please, tell the Tsaritsa you have to stay and make sure the Bank stays out of trouble, or that nothing happens in Liyue. Please, don’t go this time.”

“You’re being irrational.” By now Childe was definitely irritated.

“No, I’m being realistic. You don’t take care of yourself enough.”

“You’re just underestimating me. Besides, I’m a better fighter than you’ll ever be. It’s not like you can protect me even if I stayed here.”

“What?”

“It’s not like staying in Liyue would be any safer, better to face things head on. For the Tsaritsa, for Snezhnaya, that is the most important thing. If you can’t see that, you’re just being stupid.”

Although Childe regretted the words almost immediately after they left his mouth he could see that saying that would’ve had no effect. So instead he watched silently as your face clouded over and you stormed out the door, not bothering to grab your food as you slung your pack around you back and walked out. A part of him wanted to call after you, but he knew that even if he did you probably wouldn’t listen. Even if you did, what could he say? After all, he had simply spoken the truth; even if you couldn’t accept it as such.

Now Childe sat on the couch, eyes glazing voer as he stared at all the paperwork that needed to be done before his mission. He had already spent a hectic, uneasy day at the bank. Though he knew that none of his underlings would be foolish enough to try to pull something while he was gone, Andrei would make sure of that and Childe would make sure of Andrei, it was still tedious, boring work. This was in no way helped by the lingering ill will from his fight with you earlier. Though Childe ultimately forgot fights relatively quickly the time right after was always an uneasy one, filled with sudden flashes of irritation replaced suddenly by the wish for it all to have never happened.

He had hoped that you might be home by the time he arrived, but your absence wasn’t truly much of a surprise. Besides the fact that you were still probably angry with him, something Childe couldn’t really fault, you had recently been involved with some project near the Chasm, and it was hardly surprising that something that big caused you late hours. Still he couldn’t deny the fact that he was somewhat disappointed, or maybe disheartened was a better way to put it. He hated fighting with you, especially fights that lasted. Even if he was irritated with you, even if he thought that you had demanded something impossible, he still regretted snapping at you. He just wanted you to come home now, that way he could apologize and explain the situation better. That way he wouldn’t leave with any ill will behind him.

The clock was excruciatingly slow, but the insult of that wasn’t registered until Childe dozed off. Waking up in the middle of the night he was surprised at your continued absence. Though he had expected that sleeping on the couch might’ve happened, your total disappearance was certainly something that threw him for a loop. Making his way to the bedroom and flopping down on the bed Childe closed his eyes, pushing away the anxiety that clustered at the edge of his thoughts.

Perhaps you’d ended up staying with Hu Tao, or maybe you’d gone back home to your family. He had been awfully mean after all, and you were never the kind of person to take his insults sitting down. Still, if that were true why hadn’t you packed more, or come back to collect your things? It didn’t make any sense. Questions and half baked reasonings floated through Childe head as he tried to delay the inevitable pull of sleep. The last conscious thought he could remember was the knowledge that at least you would be back tomorrow.

You were not, in fact, home tomorrow. The Harbinger’s time spent at the Northland Bank was almost completely useless, the meeting with the people he’d be going on his mission with even more so. Though Childe wasn’t necessarily the most attentive listener, often letting his mind wander when his fellow Fatui members fell into arguing about the most insipid things, he knew that paying attention to a plan as a whole was critical to its success. Even so he couldn’t bring his mind to focus on the maps and profiles that sat in front of him. Where were you? It seemed like such a silly question, but the longer it floated in Childe’s head the colder he felt.

Finally the meetings and the menial tasks ended and Childe could go home. Sprinting down the winding streets of Liyue, not bothering to hide the fact he was in a hurry, Childe burst into the apartment. His heart sank as he was met with the same image he’d seen when he’d left that morning.

Afterwards Childe wandered around the docks of Liyue, trying to keep the quickly fragmenting pieces of his mind together. He knew that he was probably overreacting, knew that you were simply staying away because of what he said, knew that it wouldn’t be forever – you would have definitely told him if that were the case. Still he couldn’t help but feel dread crawling over him, saturating the cracks of his brain as he wondered how he’d managed to fuck everything up so much. He had underestimate how much his words must have affected you, and that only made him feel worse. Finally exhausting his walk along the pier Childe set off towards the edges of the city and into the vast wilderness of Liyue. He needed to find something to fight.

The nightmare continued on into the next day, then into the day after that. Childe could barely remember what he did during those days, walking around as if possessed, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few moments before his thoughts inevitably found their way back to you. Mostly Childe ended up sleeping, dozing off at his desk or on the couch, papers fluttering from his hands onto the floor. Mostly Childe dreamed of you.

They weren’t dreams of any particular note, their contents incredibly mundane. Not that it matter to Childe; within those dreams he felt nothing but happy domesticity, a calm that washed over him as he walked with you to the market or lay next to you under the stars. Always you would appear in his dreams suddenly, and always he would throw his arms around you, clinging to you as if even an embrace wasn’t enough. Always he woke up with a sense of desolation so vast it threatened to consume him.

Finally on the fifth day Childe couldn’t take it anymore. Waking up at almost the crack of dawn the Harbinger rushed to the Bank. He wouldn’t stay long, only enough to inform Andrei that he’d be out for the day. Then he’d go to the Guild and check and make sure everything was okay. Then, well he’d figure out what to do then. It seemed pathetic to chase after you, not to mention gross. He wouldn’t become a stalker, wouldn’t let himself fall into such pathetic behavior. Still, he had to make sure you were at least okay. As long as he did that, well, the rest could come later.

Striding into the Bank Childe was met with a surprising sight. Normally Ekaterina stayed firmly tucked inside her receptionist cubby, even more antisocial than the likes of the Balladeer or the Fatui that guarded Dragonspine. Now however she stood at the front of the booth, wringing her hands this way and that as she stared at a piece of paper in front of her. Feeling a sudden sense of dread Childe walked up to her.

“Ekaterina?”

“Oh!” Ekaterina whirled around, look on her face one of utter anxiety. “My lord, I was horrified to hear of the news, tell me, do you know if they’re almost free?”

“What are you talking about?” Childe narrowed his eyes.

“Why, your partner. I only heard today from Nadia; no wonder you’ve been so distant recently, if it’s not too much for me to say so. I only hope that they’ll soon be rescued, I’m sure you know about the situation better than I do though.”

“Ekaterina, what in the Tsaritsa’s name are you talking about?”

A shadow passed over Ekaterina’s face, a look of utter dread. Swallowing slightly she stared at a spot in the wall right to the side of Childe. “You partner, my lord, I’ve been informed that they have become trapped in one of the caverns of the Chasm. I thought that you knew about it, it’s been five days after a–”

Childe didn’t hear the rest of what Ekaterina had to say. Whirling around the Harbinger slammed his way out of the bank, aiming towards the nearest waypoint. Cold dread washed over him and with it desperate determination. He’d rescue you. If he had to tear apart the entire Chasm and raze all the mountains in Liyue to the ground so be it.

  Approaching the Chasm Childe felt a rush of adrenaline wash over him. He was terrified. By the Seven, he was utterly terrified. Images of you flashed in his mind, images of you cowering in the dark, stuck at the bottom of an endless pit, lying on the ground with no air or food or life in you. How could he have let this happen? How could he have not known of this before? Anger burned within Childe, anger at himself. He should have never let you walk out of your apartment without apologizing first. He should have enquired after you after the first night you didn’t show up. He should’ve been the first person there for you, instead of the last person to know. He was so utterly stupid.

Approaching what must’ve been the site of the accident Childe felt his stomach drop to his feet at the sight of you. You were covered in dirt, cuts spread across your arms and legs as you slumped against a Guild member, dragging your feet in an awkward shuffle towards the stretcher that must’ve been meant to bring you to the apothecary. There were a variety of Guild members flocking around you, along with one of the doctors of Liyue, who was scribbling notes down furiously. Your expression was utterly dazed, as if you weren’t exactly sure of what was going on, something that tore Childe apart.

Stepping towards you Childe called out your name. At the sound your head jerked up, and you gave a hoarse sort of cry before turning to make your way towards him. Sprinting towards you Childe stepped backwards as you fell awkwardly into him. Steadying you for a moment before wrapping his arms around you Childe felt all his emotions crashing over him, so intense that he couldn’t control them anymore. Ignoring the tears that tracked their way down his cheeks the Harbinger let out a shudder.

“Thank the Seven, thank the Seven you’re safe. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, alright? You don’t have to forgive me, but by the gods I’m so sorry.”

“I wish you had been there,” you mumbled softly. “It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything. I thought, I thought that I might never see you again.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all those things to you, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You should’ve fold so easily you know, you should be really, really angry at me.”

“I don’t want to be angry at you though, I just want you to stay.”

“Then I will,” Childe tightened his embrace around you. “I promise I will.”

“Okay.”

Having apparently said everything that had to be said you let Childe sling you onto his back, refusing to be carried to the hospital in the stretcher. As you appeared to doze off on his back Childe made a promise to himself. Even if he couldn’t disobey the Tsaritsa, even if he couldn’t change who he was, he would never leave you when you needed him to be there.

You would never find yourself needing him to be there without the chance of your need being met. That he promised you.

[evertidings]

“ i didn’t like seeing you with them. ” with blane please <33

“i don’t like seeing you with them” and “they don’t deserve you. and i’m not— i’m not tryna be the asshole that says i do. but i sure as hell would never hurt you like that.”

Blane doesn’t feel jealousy. In fact, they don’t feel anything. They’ve locked their heart in a cage and thrown away the key, a flimsy piece of metal sunken at the bottom of the ocean. It’s hopefully rotting away, but it’s days like these that they worry it’s not.

They had heard the rumours last week, but they weren’t sure whether to believe them. Supposedly, you’re flirting with someone new—and it‘s a coworker that Blane despises.

They hate many people, that much is true, but this particular hunter has a reputation. Call them a heartbreaker, a homewrecker: it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is that you’re next on their list of conquests.

And the end should be coming soon.

Blane spots you across the room, talking with the hunter. Your partner is nowhere in sight, but there’s no way they approve of the way the hunter laughs and puts their hand on your shoulder. How they lean in close and brush their body against yours. How they kiss your cheek and cup your cheek.

For a terrifying moment, Blane wonders what it’d be like if they were in their place instead.

They’re shaking themself out of the invasive thought when you begin to walk in their direction. The conversation must have ended while they were caught in their head.

“I don’t like seeing you with them,” Blane blurts out. You had gone past them, not stopping to chat for once, but you pause and turn around.

“Why?” you ask. The one word alone is enough to make them cringe. They shouldn’t have said anything at all. “I’m happy, Rekner. Do you have to try and ruin everything?”

Blane’s moment of vulnerability disappears as they fix a scowl on their face, the expression as easy as breathing. “I’m not the one who’s going to ruin things. Do you really trust them? Have you not heard the rumours?”

“Yes but they’ve changed,” you reply simply. “That was years ago.”

Blane shakes their head. They know there’s little to no point in trying to convince you otherwise, but they want to try anyway. “They don’t deserve you.”

You laugh and the sound is so harsh to Blane’s ears that they have to hold back their flinch. “And you do?”

“No,” they grit out. For some reason, the words are harder to admit than they thought. It shouldn’t have mattered. They hate you, after all. Why would not being worthy of you be such a punch to the gut?

“Then?”

Blane’s teeth are grinding down so hard they can practically hear them scraping together. “Look, I know what the next line is, but I’m not the asshole who is going to try to convince you that I’m the better choice. You and I both know that’s never happening.” They take a breath. “But I know a prick when I see one and that hunter is one. I may have never been nice to you, but I sure as hell wouldn’t hurt you like they will.”

You stare at each other for a long time. It’s the longest speech Blane has gone without insulting you.

“I don’t get it,” you finally reply. It’s like all of their words went over your head. “You say you wouldn’t hurt me like they will, but shouldn’t that make you be happy? There’s a reason you spit insult after insult. If you hate me as much as you claim, my potential future breakup should be a day of celebration for you.”

You’re right, of course. Why is Blane trying so hard to prevent this? They’ve been sniping at you for years. Picking fights and making rude remarks have become routine when they notice you. Seeing you hurt is exactly the kind of thing that people would expect them to be happy over.

But the idea makes them sick.

“If you won’t accept my help, then so be it,” Blane says. They don’t answer your question and don’t give you a chance to repeat it as they walk off down the hallway.

They can feel your stare at the back of their head, but they keep walking until they find the washroom and slide inside. They’re thankful that’s it empty as they go up to the sink and press their hands down on the cool marble surface, using it to ground them as they breathe heavily.

In and out. In and out.

Blane chokes.

The conversation is still running in their head. They’re going to be the reason this ends badly. How many other things could they have said? If they had given you proof would things be different? If they had told A to tell you would you have stayed away?

They close their eyes to try and get some relief from their clouded mind, but all they see is your face staring back at them.

You and your stupid coloured eyes. Your stupid exasperated expressions and glares that seem to be reserved solely for Blane. Your stupid full lips. Smooth skin. Voice. Name. Existence.

Somewhere deep in the abyss, they feel the key begin to float back to shore.

[lavishedinjimin]

all the good girls go to hell

— synopsis: The Angels made a deal with Jeon Jungkook, the son of Lucifer, to help them bring Y/n back to her good, prim and proper self. Even though Jungkook grants the atrocious plan, he leaves a lesson that no one should give their trust to a wicked devil like him.

↳ pairing: jungkook x f. reader

↳ genre: smut, very slight angst if you squint hard enough

↳ rating: m/18+

↳ word count: 10k

↳ warnings: religious themes, heaven and hell, angels, devils (this fic is not a correct representation of these figures and is purely fictional), alcohol intake, cursing, hard dom jk, daddy! jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, unprotected sex, breathplay, spanking, face fucking, filthy dirty talk, rough sex, jungkook and his demon cock ehe

a/n: title is inspired by billie eilish’s song all the good girls go to hell. her title inspired me to write this fic! please ignore if you find any errors <3

“You’re not good enough.” 

“You look so pathetic, really.”

“Can you at least try to look hot?” 

“This is why no one likes you.” 

These words will forever haunt you until the day you die. 

It wasn’t your fault that you were raised very strictly, your overly-protective parents treating you like some kind of rare treasure that no one, no man, can touch. The fact that your parents still had to drive you home from school even at an age like this always irritated you to the brim of your existence. So now you can’t even have the freedom, the life of a normal young girl can have. 

Being raised strictly with a heavy-handed family – not to mention religious, too – has taken a toll on your mental health. There’s always the feeling of pressure wherever you go and whatever you do. The fear of not succeeding and disappointing your mom and dad is the worst feeling, like the Devil punching your gut repeatedly, as many times as he likes. 

Plus, some students at your school know you for your lack of “personality”, the boring one, the killjoy. You can’t even refute because it was all true. You never experienced fun, parties, how to have interesting conversations, how to interact with a large crowd, all because of your parents being so uptight in you. 

“Y/n!” The high-pitched voice of your mother calls from downstairs, and you were quick to scurry outside your room and find where she was sitting on the couch. “Yes, mom?” You say. 

She was dressed in a royal-blue dress that goes up to her knees, her hair fixed perfectly and the hairspray is clearly doing a great job of keeping her updo in place. She grabs her purse while your dad walks into view, dressed up in a neat suit. “We’re leaving for our business trip, Y/n. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

“Ah.” You sort of forgot about that. 

Quickly nodding your head, you force a fake smile that you know all too well, “Yes.” 

She gives you a weird glance before she fixes her makeup in a mirror, and your dad decides to continue for her. “We’ve hired a nanny to look after you, so that you won’t go out and about going behind our backs—”

“But dad! I really don’t need someone to babysit me,” You scoff. You weren’t a child anymore, what are they thinking! “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. Don’t you trust me?” 

Trust. Something they don’t have with you, whether they admit it or not. 

Your dad just sighs deeply and starts to walk closer to you. He places a hand on your shoulder as he looks straight into your eyes, giving you an authoritarian look. “Y/n, just do as you’re told and be a good daughter.” 

“I’ve always been one,” you scorn. 

“A good daughter doesn’t talk back.” Your mother retorts. 

This is why you can never argue with them. They never let you speak your own opinion or have your own voice. 

Your parents left exactly at 5 PM as they went on their flight to Madrid, leaving the house all to yourself only for tonight.

It was the next day, and you were sitting on the dining table, eating your cereal peacefully as you watched Netflix on your phone – until the doorbell rings. 

You stand up and quickly make your way to the front door, pouting when you already know that it is the person that was supposed to look after you. 

This is ridiculous. 

“Hello!” A bright, short middle aged woman appears standing on the doorway, her bright energy startling you. “Y/n! I’m May, nice to meet you!” She lifts her hand in front for a handshake, and you chuckle nervously, accepting it. “I’m here to look after you for ten days, hm?” 

“Uh, ah, yeah. C-Come in!” You tried to sound as positive and energized as you could to match her own energy, but you couldn’t. You step aside to let her in, pulling her luggage with her and she immediately takes up the design of the house. She was nodding her head, her arms crossed together while you accompanied her little journeys throughout the whole ground floor. You found her weird. 

“Uh, come follow me, my dad says you’ll be staying here at the guest room —” 

“Wonderful! I thought I was sleeping on the couch!” She claps her hands, excited that she has her own room. 

You look at her with big, shocked eyes, yet you can’t say anything. 

“O-Okay…” you mumbled, “Here,” you helped her open the door and she immediately set her things up. “May?” 

“Yes, my dear?” She stops unpacking her bags to look up at you. “I’ll be at the kitchen, okay? If y-you wanna ask anything, I’m right over there.” 

“Ah, that’s okay, Y/n. Your mother told me everything I need to know. Your bedtime is at eight and no midnight snacks!” 

Your heart drops down to the floor as you immediately encountered a wave of emotions. Why did it matter?! Why did your mom had to apply all these stupid rules when she’s not even around? You thought at the start that you’ll have some kind of freedom when your parents aren’t here, thinking that your nanny might be easier, but perhaps not. 

“Okay.” You say simply. 

How else can you prove to people that you can be better? You're sick of everyone seeing you as the boring one, but your parents were the only thing that was keeping you from having fun. So you decide to be a little risky. 

Step one: Sneak out the house. 

Isn't that what people your age do? Usually they sneak out to party, to go hang out with their friends and have the time of their life. But you had none, no ‘best friend’, but a couple of lunch friends here and there. 

“I should try clubbing.” You mumble to yourself as you sit down on the plush comfort of your mattress. Until you hear your phone chimes, signalling a text. You grab your phone from the bedside table and frown when you see who the text was from. 

Mom: Remember to go to church later, Y/n. 

You didn't reply, instead, it got you thinking. 

Nothing will happen if you skip church, right? You've always attended Mass every Sunday with your parents, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with skipping at least once.

Besides, you need to plot your plans for tonight!

~

“What is this girl doing?” Armaros says in a deep whisper, his well-shaped eyebrows furrowing deeply while he watches Y/n on her phone, laying down on her bed as if church isn't just five minutes away from starting. 

Armaros rushes to the other side of the room to get a better view of her human who lays on her stomach, a white wisp of smoke trailing behind him. He shakes his head, crossing his arms together in front of his chest. “Y/n, Y/n,” he tuts, “What are you doing?!” 

He decides to step forward and reaches forward for his hand to caress the crown of your head. He chuckles when he sees your eyes expand in a quick second, your body abruptly sitting up straight from the tingling feeling in your neck. Your hairs stand up, a chill running down your spine. 

This was Armaros’ way of mustering his presence onto you. Your dad always taught that whenever you suddenly feel a chilling sensation out of nowhere, it means that your guardian angel is there with you and trying to send you a message. 

And you clearly know what he's trying to say. 

There was a slight feeling of guilt – uneasiness, even. But no. You've already decided that you weren't going to follow your old routine. 

Armaros’ jaw drops when you don't move from your position on the bed, only making yourself comfortable even further. ”Don’t you dare skip church...” he slowly whispers to himself. But he quickly shakes his head side to side, trying to be optimistic, “It's just one time. Just one time.” 

Time passes by faster than you think, you sink your teeth down on your bottom lip, chewing on it as you try to Google clubs near you. It was ridiculous, feeling so overwhelmed from all of the options the Internet is showing you. 

There was a generous list of bars and clubs with different ratings. It was a humane decision to choose the best one, right? So you went for a nightclub called ‘Soap Seoul’. Although, you feel your stomach churn when you scroll through the images attached to it; seeing all of the strange blue and red LED lights, big and tight crowds, and an HD picture of their bar. The bar was long and almost occupied the width of the whole club. You don't even know if you can stand such a place like that. 

But no. You can't back out now! You had to show yourself and to others that you can have some fun too. 

~ 

The club opens tonight at 8 pm, letting yourself have two hours to prepare. Rummaging through your garments of clothing, you try to find an appropriate outfit.

“I have nothing!” you whined, eyebrows furrowing in dismay. All you had were simple t-shirts and countless skinny jeans and leggings. Your dresses were almost knee-length and suitable for church – not for a nightclub! 

Armaros stands at a distance, shaking his head at you. 

Until, you heard a loud knock on the door, “Y/n!” May's voice shouts from the other side of the room, “Dinner's ready!” 

Oh no. 

Quickly opening the door, you stared at her with big, worried eyes. “May! I-uhh, I-I’m not gonna stay for dinner…” you mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“Oh, why is that?” she asks, a faint sad tone in her voice. You felt so sad and regretful that you didn't say anything to her because she already cooked your dinner. 

“I-I have plans for tonight,” you hold your hands behind your back, slightly getting embarrassed. 

“Are you going out with your friends?”

“Y-Yeah!” You lie. You've never lied before. 

“Ah, I understand. Have you told your mom?” 

She doesn't have to know. 

“Yup.” 

And there it was again, the chills in your neck appeared while your arm and leg hairs stood up. Armaros touches your scalp, desperate to seek your attention and bring you back to your old, good self. The angel didn't like that you were lying, for he was perpetually accustomed to your good deeds. It was making him anxious for what's about to come. 

But you ignored his message. May nods when you told her that she can have the food to herself. 

You feel a pang of guilt rush through your body when you shut the door behind you, your heartbeat suddenly racing faster. The nervousness in you made your head hurt. Is this the right thing to do? No. It wasn't. But you had to show people that you can be different. Will it be worth it? Of course. 

Thankfully, you spot a white dress that you've never worn before. It was a gift from your cousins that was supposed to be another addition to your collection of church dresses but it was too short for your liking. 

“Hm, maybe this will work…” you quietly mumble to yourself.

You tried the piece of clothing on, carefully examining your reflection in the full-length mirror. The hem of the skirt falls right above your mid-thigh, too high for your usual comfort but for the sake of dressing up for a nightclub — there was no problem. The dress was snug, hugging your body so that it accentuates your curves.

The dress was plain white and was relatively simple. You don't really know what people usually wear for nightclubs but you were certain that dresses were a part of the code. 

You looked for your black three-inch heel that you last wore during your highschool graduation, slipping it in carefully. Doing a little bit of makeup and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, you grabbed a purse and walked out of your room. 

“May, please don't wait for me, okay?” you say after walking past her. 

“W-Wait, I'm supposed to–”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“She's not gonna be okay!” Armaros declares, kneeling on one knee before Archangel Michael – the protector and the spiritual warrior, as he mentions Y/n's recent mischiefs.

After you've been to the nightclub the first day, you've never stopped. You became addicted. 

Sometimes you don't even tell May that you're going out, you just sneak out of the window and let May worry about you. You've happened to know how to drink as you get wasted every single night, hanging around with people that you don't know, people that are a bad influence on your good side. These past few days had you acting up like you’ve never before. You longed for alcohol and the feeling of it numbing your nerves, and there’s not a day where you didn’t get drunk.

Armaros’ power wasn't enough to stop you. Every single day he's been drying his best to send signals, to make you feel certain ways and speak to your consciousness that what you are doing is by far dangerous and wrong. But you never listened. 

You've skipped church, stopped talking to God, ignoring your parents’ phone calls, not doing your homework just because you're busy either getting drunk or making out with someone at the club. It's like you have been addicted to misbehaving. 

But for you, you thought you’re doing the right thing. 

“Armaros, are you doubting your powers?” Archangel Michael replies, running his fingertips along the sharp blade of his sword. 

“N-No, but, nothing seems to work. She's been ignoring my calls for almost two weeks. I just want the best for her.” Armaros’ voice fades at the end of his sentence. He was speaking with such sincerity because he really cares for Y/n. He truly loves her. “Why is she doing this?” He asks for help.

“Because, my dear, she's trying to prove something she's not for other people.”

“What?” 

Archangel Michael laughs quietly, staring at him endearingly. He points his sword at him, “She obviously tries to be immoral to fit in. She's rarely praying to God like she used to, rarely respecting the people around her. Ever since humans bullied Y/n for being herself – she starts to change. But the question is…”

He walks around Armaros, his eyes never leaving his. “Is this making her happy?” 

Armaros lowers his head and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The Archangel grins and returns his sword back on the scabbard attached to his belt. 

“If I can't warn her to stop, then who else can?” The angel asks. 

Michael lifts an eyebrow up, crossing his arms together as he stands right in front of him. His mouth draws into a slow smirk, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head. 

“You wanna have some fun, Armaros?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stand up, stand up.” Armaros quickly obeys his superior’s command. The Archangel places a hand on his right shoulder, preparing to speak. 

“I have an idea. We call Jeon Jungkook up and–” 

“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow Y/n to come face to face with the son of Lucifer!” Armaros bellows, instinctively pushes Michael's hand away from him. 

“Armaros! It's just an idea!” Michael chuckles, spreading his arms to the side as he shakes his head. “And besides, I have to ask permission from our Highness anyway.” 

“And what will he do? Taunt her? Provoke Y/n to be more sinful?” Y/n's guardian angel asks, referring to Jungkook. “We both know how manipulative and cunning he can be!”

“No, no. We'll make a deal with him, of course! No devil will do anything without receiving something in return.” 

“This idea of yours, not to be rude, but is really out of this world.”

Archangel Michael snorts from the out of the blue pun. 

“Do not be afraid. If our Lord agrees to our plan, I'll be watching. I always will. Give me your trust, Armaros.”

Armaros sighs deeply, yet smiles up at him right after. “Okay, I trust you.” 

“May, stop it,” you mutter angrily, pulling your arm away from her hold. May tries to block your way from going outside the house but you abruptly push her to the side. 

“Y/n! Your mom told you that–” 

“Told me what?! That I’m being independent? Unruly? That I should just stay home? I don’t give a fuck anymore, May. I’d rather hang out with friends than stay here and do nothing!” You bark at her. She was smaller than you and you were definitely giving off that intimidating vibes that you wanted to show. She isn’t the one wearing the pants in this house. You are. 

“Y/n, I will not tolerate this behavior!” May snaps, eyes glaring at you with her hands balled up into fists on her sides. 

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sour chuckle, “You sound like my mom.” 

May sighs deeply, the tiredness in her voice evident, “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/n. Just listen to me.” 

“I’m an adult. I can keep myself safe. Now, let me go and don’t wait for me.” 

“Y/n!” 

“Bye May! Have a nice sleep!” 

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you?!” Emilia, one of the new friends you've met no longer than three days ago shouts through the phone as loud, blazing music muffled her voice. “Sophia and I are waiting for you! Get your ass over here!”

“I'm almost there, save me a drink already!” you giggle, looking out from the taxi’s window. 

Sophia snatches the phone out of Emilia’s hand to speak to you, “Y/n, you still remember the bet we made, right?” 

“Of course! It's not a huge deal, c'mon now.” You roll your eyes, faking a laugh. 

“We'll see!” Emilia giggles. 

The driver drops you in front of the nightclub and you throw him a couple of dollars. Stepping out of the car, your high heels clicking on the cement. Upon entering the place, you were immediately greeted with your friends. They were both wearing a tight dress – glittery red and silver – whilst you wore a black one that reached down to your middle thigh. You bought the dress only a day ago, special thanks to your Amazon Prime account . 

“Hey! Here, drink this,” Sophia hands you a single malt whiskey and you swiftly drown it down your throat without any problem. You reminisce back to your first day where you can’t even take a sip of beer without gagging. Now look where you are. 

“Ahh fuck, that tastes good,” you mumble through gritted teeth. 

“Why are you late tonight, Y/n?” Emilia asks as she leads you to the bar to order more alcohol. Her high pitched voice mixing with the loud music,”You know it's always 9 PM. Sharp.” 

You breathe out heavily as you watch Sophia pour three shots of straight vodka into a shot glass. She distributes the beverage to the two of you. 

“Well, uh–” 

“What?” Emilia snaps.

“I couldn't find a goddamn cab, that's why!” you hide your falseness with laughter, hoping they won't sense your lie. 

“Alright anyway, let’s go get wasted and you, Y/n – will be our first player.” Emilia smirks as she crosses her arms together. She analyzes your body, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t like it, and you felt worried. 

Your eyebrows furrow, confused and slightly offended, “What, why me?” You take a sip of your newly-ordered beer, trying to get comfortable on the plush-covered stool. 

“Because,” Sophia answers for her, “we need to know your… capacities.” 

You snort, “Capacities of what? My capacity of having to get into a m-man’s bed? Pffft… easy!” 

Sophia’s forehead furrows, glancing at Emilia with a knowing look before focusing her attention back to you. “Sure. Anyway, let’s have fun first and then…” she leans closer to you, her face inches away from yours. You feel your face redden in embarrassment, “And then you can choose your man.” 

It wasn’t that bad. It isn’t bad dancing around the dance floor, beer in hand, as you danced all your worries away. Emilia and Sophia were out there – somewhere, but you didn’t care about them at this moment. You let your body go with the beat of the loud EDM music, holding your hands up in the air as you whipped your head left to right. You had a huge smile on your face, the alcohol kicking in like it was meant for your body to consume. 

Sweaty bodies were bumping each other from left and right, and you for sure stepped on someone’s toe with your pumps. Nevertheless, you didn’t care. You were having your fun. 

It was until the song changed from upbeat to a more sensual, heart-pumping song from the loud bass. As if there was a switch inside you, you turned into a sultry mess. 

Wasted. You were wasted like hell. 

Your eyes turn into little slits as you look around the dance floor to try and find someone to play with. Taking a huge sip of your drink, your throat burns yet you tried to ignore it. 

“Ah-hah!” you giggle, walking – or should we say, stumbling – towards a guy with black hair parted in the middle, nicely dressed in a black button up tucked in some skinny jeans. The man locks eyes with you, licking his plump lips as his eyes rake your body. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he smirks, making you blush in red as he holds your waist and tugs you closer to him. The song in the background was helping you a lot to get into that seductive, sexy mood that you planned to have. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, “I’m Y/n.” 

“What a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He starts swaying your body to the beat, going along with you. “I’m Seokjin. Nice to meet you.” 

Seokjin tugs your body closer until he holds the back of your head with one hand, making you look deep into his dark eyes. “Y-You’re a new face,” you slur, “You don’t belong here.” 

Unexpectedly, your eyes grow big when Seokjin throws his head back as he laughs almost hysterically. “What?” you question. 

The man slightly leans down until his face draws near to yours, and you can immediately smell the alcohol in his breath. You didn’t judge though, you probably had beer-breath too. 

“Baby girl…” Seokjin suddenly speaks deeply, making your heart jump from the sudden change in his voice. There was a sultry look in his eyes that made it hard for you to keep eye contact. “Baby it’s you who doesn’t seem to belong. You don’t know who I am.” 

“Well y-you don’t know me e-either!” You try to retaliate, although it was messed up with your embarrassing stuttering.  

“You really wanna know?” he whispers, his lips right against your lips, almost touching yours. You couldn’t breathe properly, wanting to pull away but his intoxicating scent was forcing you to him. 

You nod your head, not trusting your voice. 

“I own this place, baby.” 

You almost tossed your cup right across the room from his sudden confession, totally not expecting such a young-looking man to own such a place like this. Your eyes expand, body staying still. 

’Wait! Be sexy… be sexy…’ you thought to yourself after an awkward five seconds of silence. 

You decide to chuckle, biting your bottom lip slowly as you draw yourself nearer to him. He lifts a brow up in surprise, wrapping his arms around your hips and he closes the distance between the two of you. 

“Really? Well then,” you mutter, “I want you to own me too.” 

“Oh, finally. Someone straightforward.” 

“Well I – oh!” Seokjin takes you by surprise when he quickly tugs your arm and leads you to the second floor of the club. You haven’t been in this area before, looking so luxurious and well decorated. Although what shocks you is the series of doors that passes through a long, wide hallway. 

“Seok...Seokjin,” you whisper, but he looks at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“C’mon baby,” he opens a door and walks you inside, locking it behind him. “Let’s have a little fun.” 

Let’s have a little fun. 

Yeah. I should. 

This is fun, right? 

Before you can even process things, Seokjin shoves your body to a wall as his hands start to wander down your sides. With flushed cheeks, you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost but he clearly doesn’t mind, grinding his hips into yours. 

“Mmm, what a cute babe I have in front of me,” he groans, leaning forward to pepper wet, gentle kisses all over your neck and down to your shoulders. 

Something feels off. 

“Y/n, right?” he asks, his forehead furrows and you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart starts to rapidly pump inside your chest, feeling as if it’ll burst at any minute. An uncomfortable feeling starts to overwhelm your system, sensing your palms getting sweaty. You can’t look at his eyes, looking anywhere but him. 

“Uh, o-okay,” you straighten your back as you try your best to look confident. 

This is the perfect opportunity to tell your friends. Having sex with someone like him will absolutely impress Emilia and Sophia. 

Seokjin chuckles, shrugging, “Alright then.” And without any warning, he throws you on the bed and he quickly hovers above your body. 

“Mmph–!” he immediately presses his lips into yours before you can even react to everything that had just happened. He caresses your cheeks with both hands, his lips moving softly with yours. You try your best to keep up with him and his pace, but you can’t. There was something stopping you from giving him your all. Seokjin grunts nevertheless, humping you. 

Seokjin’s right hand snakes down to grab the hem of your dress as he teasingly pulls the fabric up, then lets it snap back down. There was a weird feeling inside your stomach, and it did not feel good at all. 

His hand slowly starts creeping up your leg, and that’s where you couldn’t hold it back. 

“Mmm, n-no,” you mewl, pushing him away from you. Seokjin stares down at you with a frown, head tilted to the side. 

“Y/n?” 

Rapid heart rate, the back of your neck sweating, and chills all over your body occur all at the same time. You were panicking. 

“I-I…” immediately you stand up from the bed, hiking your stupid short dress down as much as you can. “S-Sorry,” furiously shaking your head from side to side, you stumble your way to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” Seokjin yells, confused yet he felt sorry at the same time. “Let’s talk about it!” 

“No,” you whisper. You can’t do this anymore. There was no energy left in your body to talk, to process what just happened, to stand in this fucking club. Home. All you were thinking about was going home. 

You twist the doorknob open, trying to catch your breath as much as you can but you feel like you were going to pass out any minute. Making your way down the stairs, you run as fast as you can towards the exit of the nightclub yet a person catches your arm. 

“Y/n!” Your eyes widen when Emilia and Sophia stop you, observing your state. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“No…” you breathe tirelessly, “c-can’t do it…” 

“You failed?” Emilia snaps as she leans her body on one hip, resting her hands there. She looks at you with disgust, “But we saw the guy that you’re with! He was hot!” 

Sophia snorts, smirking as she stares at you sourly, “Proves our point. You’re nothing, Y/n. You had such an easy job, the guy’s already all over you and you just had to throw him? Where is he, let me get with him myself.” Sophia struts away, heels clicking as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, leaving you with Emilia. 

“What can I say, Y/n,” she smiles menacingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You can never be like us.” 

Your whole body felt heavy, heavy like you were carrying a boulder behind your back. This isn’t what you had planned at all, everything was going so well until this! Your eyes started welling up with tears, blurring your sight. You had to go. 

Without saying a word, you quickly run away to the exit, ignoring Emilia’s insensitive laugh. 

What went wrong? Why did you feel that way? Negative thoughts were clouding your mind as you cried and cried to your poor, soaked pillow. 

Maybe you are just not enough. Perhaps you’re not meant to be like this. 

It was fun the first time around, and you were actually enjoying yourself. But the days passed and you sadly weren't doing this for your own pleasure anymore, but for the validation of other people. 

You should’ve stopped Seokjin from touching you when it clearly made you uncomfortable. There was a line and he crossed it, but you erased that line so you can finally say that you’ve slept with someone. But you guessed it wasn’t that easy. 

Grabbing your phone, you ignored all of the rude messages Emilia has sent you, blocking her and Sophia’s number. You turned off your phone, throwing it somewhere on the ground without care before you switched off your lamp. There was never a time that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but tonight was your first. 

“And what do I get in return for this deal?” Jeon Jungkook purrs with a low, dark tone, crossing his legs together as he sits on his father’s fire-blazing throne. Even though he has his own throne for himself, thrones on fire were way cooler. He scans the frightened angel from head to toe through the strands that fell in front of his eyes. 

“The A-Archangel says you will obtain a soul. A soul that is longing for hell.” Armaros stutters as he tries to keep eye contact with the devil’s hard glare. 

Jungkook chuckles, hanging his head low. “You mean to tell me…” he starts to stand up and walks towards the angel. Armaros tries his best to keep his guard up and stand as tall as possible. 

Jungkook circles around him, arms crossed while his right hand plays with his bottom lip, “That I should convince this little girl to prevent doing bad, bad things to stop her from going to hell?” He laughs hysterically. “That’s quite… an unnatural job for a devil, isn’t it? It’s completely the opposite of what i’m supposed to do. Tell Michael that his plan is utter bullshit.”

Armaros takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Firstly, Y/n is not a little girl. And second, this job is easy. You have the skill to persuade humans to sin – what’s hard with doing the opposite? Besides, you’ll obtain a soul either way.” 

His words made Jungkook ponder and deliberate with himself. He stops in front of Armaros and shows him his signature imposing smile. “I can have my way with the girl, right?” He bites his lip, “Anyway I want?” 

This made Armaros’ eyes go wide, mouth opening but no words seem to come out properly, “I-I… w-well, um… yes? Yes? P-Perhaps? Just don’t do anything bad to her.” 

Jungkook scoffs, running his long tongue over his teeth as he smirks, “Define bad, Mr. Angel.” 

“You know… hurt her.” He gulps.

The devil squints his eyes, absolutely loving Armaros’ reactions. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill her, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I’m done with this conversation.” Armaros quickly chirps as he unfolds his large, white wings. “Remember what your main goal is, Jungkook. I’m counting on you.” 

Jungkook stops him before he flies back up. “Armaros…” he says, dragging his name long in his tongue. Armaros looks at him, eyes impatient, arms crossed together. 

“You know I’m a devil, right?” 

The angel chuckles, scoffing, “Oh, I know that alright.” He scorns, eyeing Jungkook up and down. Although the devil in front of him looks intimidating and his eyes are jet black, Armaros keeps his calm. “I’m only following orders. I didn’t agree with The Archangel in the first place.” 

“Do you know what devils do to… humans?” 

Armaros nods fully. 

“And what I might do to… that precious little girl?” Jungkook growls deeply, walking closer to him. He tilts his head down, looking at him through his lashes, “There’s a huge chance that I might not control myself when I see her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Suddenly, black smoke appears from Jungkook’s right hand, summoning something beside him. The smoke appears to subside and at once, Y/n’s appearance can be seen through the thin air. Jungkook rests his hips on one side, twirling his hand so that her image spins around. 

“This is Y/n, right?” Jungkook studies your face, watching you read a book inside your room. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before.” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Armaros bellows, his tone loud yet sprinkled with fear. 

“I’m just saying, Angel. You can’t stop me from trying to do devilish things to her.” Jungkook smirks, prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “You might have to reconsider this deal of yours if you don’t want me to have my way with that pretty little girl,” He taunts, already warning Armaros.

“Jungkook,” Armaros’ nerves seem to heat up, slowly getting irritated although he tries to calm himself. He looks down, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “There’s no point in doing that. You think she wants to have an affair with someone like you?” 

The devil laughs loudly as he twirls his hand until your image disappears. This conversation further proves Jungkook’s argument that angels are actually dumber than they realize. 

“If you want me to help you, I will have my way with her. My job, my rules. Understand?”

Armaros feels defeated, but he can’t say anything but nod and agree to him. He can’t fight him anyway. Jungkook dismisses him, and with that, the angel ascends back up to earth. 

Jungkook can’t wait to have his fun. 

~

Prancing around, making friends, getting to know each other – Jungkook doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he’s very straightforward, saying words that he probably shouldn’t, he likes to say what he thinks no matter how bad it’ll probably hurt. 

That’s what he plans to do with you. 

If he gets his point clear, make you frightened, scare the shit out of you, then the job would be complete. 

Easy! 

You were currently on your laptop, scrolling through your pinterest tabs until you hear loud and frantic knocks on your door. “Y/n!” May shrieks, her voice quivering. “Someone’s at the door!” 

Oh no, you thought. 

Immediately hopping out of bed, you went out to see who it was with May following behind you. You peak out through the windows and suddenly, you inhale sharply from the man that you see. 

He was unfamiliar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Seokjin or Sophia nor Emilia, but rather tall, might you say handsome looking man waiting outside your doorstep. He was dressed in all black, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Do you know him?” May asks quietly. You shake your head slowly, “N-No.” 

“Y/n… I think you should just leave him.” 

“May, I can handle it. You can go now.” You say softly to her. 

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.” You spat a little harshly, blazing your eyes at her. May nods, sighing as she walks away to her room. 

Gathering the courage to open the door, you took a deep inhale and exhale, calming your nerves. 

Once you open the door, your eyes immediately fly to his dark ones. Your whole body suddenly shivers, the air around the place somewhat getting cold as if it was winter. 

You can't take your eyes off of the man. You have never met him before but it felt like you've known him for too long. There was a strange aura surrounding the two of you that you can't explain. 

“Hello.” He speaks first, giving you a sly smile. 

His voice. You've never heard such a dark and menacing timbre before. 

“Hi,” you gulp, “Who are you?” 

“May I come in?” Jungkook snaps, ignoring your question. He doesn't want to waste any time, that's for sure. 

You furrow your brows as you shake your head, “Answer my question first.” You blurt, blocking the entrance by placing your hands on either side of the doorway. 

“Hm,” Jungkook slowly shows you a deadly smirk, eyeing your body up and down. “You really wanna know?” 

What kind of a question is that? 

You quickly got annoyed, looking at him with a scorn. “Obviously!”

Feisty, Jungkook thought. 

“I'm the devil.”

There was a long pause, silence filling the air. This man is too handsome to be this dumb. You laugh hysterically, bending over as you hold your aching stomach. “A-Are you… oh my god… please tell me you're fucking joking!” you say with creased eyes. 

Jungkook already expected this reaction, and he only rolls his eyes without you noticing. 

“Mhm. You don't believe me?” he slowly pronounces his words, voice deep and sinister. 

“Nah,” you shake your head, giggling. 

“Aren't you religious?” Jungkook pushes you to the side without hesitation and enters, your eyes expanding slowly as his body suddenly comes in contact with yours. “Don't you believe in your God? You believe in angels, right?” He backs your body up and shuts the door loudly behind him. 

You felt a series of chills erupt from your system, his gaze locked on yours. You wanted to look away from his intimidating gaze, but you can't, for some strange reason. “Huh, Y/n?”

You gasp. “Wait, h-how do you know my name!?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, tilting his head to the side as he ignores your question again. 

Your body seems to move by itself, like you can't control your own limbs. The air thickens around the two of you as you feel your body submit to the man in front of you. 

Sighing, with a shaky voice you answer. “I do. I do believe in them.”

Although what shocks you is the way his eyes suddenly turn a bright shade of red. From deep black to red, his irises glow. 

“What the fuck–” you quickly back away, body shivering in fear until your back hits a wall. You rub your eyes, trying to see if your mind was only playing tricks with you. 

Jungkook grins and chuckles darkly, clicking his tongue. “Then…” he draws, walking closer to your frightened figure, “Can this convince you enough?” 

“S-Stop… stop playing games with me!” you whimper, feeling your palms get sweaty. “Your eyes are red!” 

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Jungkook snarls, forehead creasing, “Maybe because I'm the fucking devil?” 

And in a flash, Jungkook’s appearance changes from a tall, handsome boy into a dark red figure. Black, bat-like wings sprout from his back, long horns appearing from his forehead, a spear-like tail behind him. His lips and the area around his eyes were tinted in black while his fingers grew longer, sharper. 

You almost fainted then and there. 

“Oh— p-please,” your eyes turn watery as tears start to fall down your cheek, lifting your hands up to your mouth in shock, “please d-don't kill me!” Shutting your eyes to avoid the frightening image in front of you, your knees drop down to the floor with a loud thud. “I'm sorry, please f-forgive me! Don't k-kill me! Please!” 

“Oh, what a cute pretty girl you are,” the devil grins, his voice more gravelly now. He looks down at your frail self, amused. “I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to teach you a lesson.” 

You start to sob as your body shakes, “No! Please d-don't…”  

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” you quickly reply, voice cracking. “I’m sorry s-sir, don’t hurt me!” 

Jungkook, satisfied with your reaction, morphs back to his normal human look within a few seconds. “Look at me.”

Slowly, afraid to anger the devil in front of you, you obey his words. You sigh in relief when he finally looks normal again, but you can't look at him the same way. 

“Stand up.”

You do so with wobbly legs. You felt so weak with your energy quickly drained so quickly. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Anyway, I'm Jungkook,” he gives you an award-winning smile, “I'm sent here to supposedly warn you from doing bad things.” He cringes, shaking his head. “Which, honestly speaking, I think is atrocious.”

He scans your body, biting his lip right after. “A good looking girl like you should have her fun.” 

You try to regain your senses back. A devil — a real devil appeared right in front of you. You can't seem to shake the thought away while he’s there looking so handsome in his human form. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him, “J-Jungkook? I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.” 

He snorts. Brushing his black hair away from his face. “Wrong. You know what you're doing.” 

“W-What?” 

Something in the air changes when Jungkook snaps his fingers. A thick, black smoke appears, capsuling the both of you in. “What is this?!” you question, terror overtaking your face. You watch your surroundings getting blurry, blackness covering the area. 

“Oh nothing,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “just making sure that your little angels can't see us.” 

Jungkook's eyes shine and his pupils enlarge, smiling as you notice how his teeth grow sharper. There were veins popping out in his neck, grimacing at you in pure excitement.  

“We can't afford your poor, guardian angel to stop us now, can't we? I don't want him to see us…playing.” 

“Playing?!” You gasp, eyes expanding in shock.. 

“Yes, baby. Angels are so fucking dumb, aren't they? Asking a devil to do their own work? Isn't that pathetic.”

You were locked to him like a magnet as your body seems to fill with utter desire in such a quick time. 

Was he doing something to you?!

A series of pleasurable chills erupt from your body, mouth getting dry as you look up at Jungkook with big eyes. 

His hand suddenly touches your bare arm, making you silently mewl from his chilling touch. He smirks at your reaction, “How dumb of them to trust the son of Lucifer himself.”

“Y-You… you're…” your voice fades, trying to process his words. 

“Mhm. Aren't you excited to play with me?” 

Maybe he's doing tricks to your mind, controlling your body – or maybe you’re just fucked up. Either way, you want him. 

You lust for him. 

“Yes.”

Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hands finding its way to your waist, holding you firmly until he unexpectedly pulls you to his body. He lifts a single eyebrow up, “Really?” 

Your heartbeat quickens. 

“I've… I’ve never been more sure.” Words seem to spill out of your mouth without your consent, as if it wasn’t you who’s speaking. But you don’t try to take your words back.  

Jungkook laughs and starts to lift you up without struggle, finding his way to your bedroom while the smoke follows the two of you. “Bad, bad girl you are.” He lowers you down on the mattress, sending you a seductive wink, “I'm so fucking proud.” 

He preps himself on his knees, capturing your thighs in between. His eyes run down your body, chills running down your spine from how hot he looks. His figure was so big and muscular, making you feel like he can destroy your frail self. 

“Look at this, you look so fucking delicious baby.” 

His hand suddenly flies down to your armpits, roughly handling you as he carries you up as he sits down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, as he places you in between his legs. 

You hold back a whimper as he pushes your body closer to him. Hearing him growl deeply made your cunt throb, feeling a strange wet feeling down there. 

“Demons can't help humans,” he mutters lowly, his lips right against the shell of your ear. “They want you to sin and sin and sin until the day you fucking die.” 

His hands play with your shirt until in a quick flash, he rips the cotton material in half, your body shivering as it has been exposed to the cold air. “Ohh,” you whimper, covering your body with your arms. 

“Nu-uh,” Jungkook grins behind you, “Don't do that, baby.” He leans down and starts pressing wet and sloppy kisses all over your shoulders, running his mouth up to your neck. “Don't try to hide away from me.”

He sucks on the soft skin of your neck, his big dick throbbing in his pants from the way you were constantly squirming. You were so sensitive, and it made him so horny. He hums, marking your skin in bright red and purple bruises. 

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moan, throwing your head back until it rests right against his shoulder. 

His hands suddenly fly to your breasts, his long and slender fingers pinching and twisting your hardened nipples. You bite your bottom lip as you can't seem to open your eyes from the feeling. It was until Jungkook suddenly digs his nails into your nipples, pinching them roughly that made you jolt right up. 

“Oh, t-that hurts,” you cry, the stinging feeling of his sharp nails pinching your buds. Jungkook watches your face contort, digging his nails even harder. He feels your body twitch, hearing your gentle whines and mewls. 

“Ohhh you don't like it baby, does it hurt too much for your sensitive, precious body?” he mocks a concerned tone. “Hm?” 

He was playing games with you, that's for sure. You nod your head up and down, trying to push his hands away. “Mhm…” 

Thankfully, he does stop but he quickly cups your breasts with both hands. He feels your rock-hard nipples pushing against his rough palms, kneading your boobs until he finally lets go. 

“Take these off,” he instructs you to pull your shorts down, and you do so. With trembling hands, you swiftly tug them off of your legs. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts behind you, his right hand lowering down from your stomach until it reaches the destination right against your clothed pussy. His fingers slowly trace down your slick, feeling how wet you are through your panties. 

He smirks cockily, “You're fucking drenched, baby. Are you this horny?” he rubs your clit in slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure with the tips of his two fingers, your legs shivering. “Want something to stuff that little hole of yours?” 

He pulls your underwear down to your thighs, and you instantly shake it off with your legs. Jungkook pushes your legs apart, forcing your knees up with your feet flat on the mattress. Your cunt flutters around air from the exposure. You whine when his left arm possessively wraps around your stomach, his biceps flexing when he holds you tightly. 

“Stay fucking still,” he growls, his warm hand cupping your bare cunt. He chuckles, prodding his tongue against his cheek as he plays with your folds. He uses two slender fingers to spread your labia apart and you can feel your glistening arousal drip from your hole down to your ass. 

Jungkook hums in satisfaction, spreading your lips wider, making you emit a moan. “Jungkook—”

“No. I want you to call me something…” he elongates the pause in his sentence to suddenly insert the tip of his middle finger in your pussy, causing you to jump. “Something else, baby.” 

“Ah-ahh, what?” your legs couldn't stop trembling as he pushes his finger deeper, your walls sucking it in deliciously. 

You can feel him smirk against the skin of your neck, he snickers, “Starts with the letter D.” 

Your eyes squint in confusion, tilting your head up to look at him. Jungkook, with his glowing red eyes, scans your face with a quirked eyebrow expectantly. 

“Devil?” 

Jungkook scoffs loudly and instantly pushes the rest of his finger in your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands quickly hold onto his arm that was wrapped around you, mouth agape from the sudden thrusts. “Ohhh!” your body shakes, leaning your head against him. Electric waves of pleasure run through your body, being new to the sensation. 

He growls as he removes his finger out to slap your pussy harshly, hitting your sensitive clit. “Wrong.” 

“Oww…” you mewl, your hips bucking up from the sting. He does this again, and again, and again, making your eyes watery. He tightens his hold on you, stopping you from squirming too much. 

“Daddy.” He purrs. 

Your body instantly feel a series of shivers. 

“Call me daddy.” Jungkook bites your neck roughly while he inserts his digits back, this time using his middle and ring finger. You hiss in pleasure, eyes tempting to roll back when he brushes the sponge-like texture inside your pussy. 

“Shit, right there daddy,” you curse, rolling your hips against his hand for more. “Right there!” 

Jungkook feels his cock harden even more, precum dripping down his tip as it twitches against his clothes. The way you pronounce that certain word drove him crazy. Jungkook loves how your body easily crumbles beneath him as you allow him to have all the control. He pounds your pussy faster with his hand, putting his bicep to good use. 

You were about to cum, the feeling of a tightness inside your tummy, a ball about to burst at any second. You warn Jungkook, “Daddy, i-i think… I think I'm gonna c-cum,” you sob. 

“I know.” He says simply, fucking you harder. Suddenly, he pushes his index finger in, three digits stretching your walls out. You cry loudly, thrashing around him as high-pitched moans carelessly leave your mouth. “Shiiiiit, d-daddy!” 

“Need to stretch this little pussy out for my cock” he purrs, “cuz’ we don’t want that tiny hole of yours to split into two, right baby?” 

Your toes curl, nails digging into the skin of his arm as you fail to warn him that you're gonna cum any second now. Although he can feel the way your pussy was pulsing around his long fingers. He angled his hand until your clit was brushing against his palm, “Daddy! Ohh fuck, just l-like that!”

Until it all stops. 

All of the pleasure stops when Jungkook pulls his fingers out. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!” you yell, never been more frustrated before as he denies your orgasm. You were about to cum so hard. Your legs shake uncontrollably, scratching his arms as your body shudders. Your poor cunt pulsates rapidly from the sour loss. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

Laughing dryly behind you was Jungkook, licking his fingers clean as he watches your dignity wash away right in front of his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you scowl, pushing away his arms and turning to face him. “Fuck. You.” 

But he wasn't bothered at all, of course. He was the devil after all. He had no remorse.

Before you know it, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat and swiftly pulls you close to his face. You gulp, terrified from the intimidating look in his eyes. 

Jungkook thinks that he can easily kill you then and there. If it were a different person, he wouldn't hesitate to snap their neck like a stick. Usually he would feel tempted to physically hurt a person in this kind of situation. But no. He likes you. He likes you too much to kill.

“Take my cock out.”

Even though you hate him for denying your orgasm so brutally like that, you nod your head. Jungkook removes his shirt as you scoot down. You were careful to unbutton his pants, heart rate going faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. By the look of the large tent evident, he was gonna be huge. Jungkook watches you with heavy eyes, running his hand through your hair softly. 

You pull the garment down and your mouth visibly waters from the sight. The outline of his cock was evident from his briefs, long and thick and was certainly rock hard. You were so afraid to even touch it as you let your hands sit right on his thighs. 

“Haven't done this before?” he asks, rubbing your cheek with one hand. You shake your head, afraid to look at his glaring eyes. 

Jungkook chortles, quickly pulling his underwear down by himself.

His cock immediately springs out and rests on his abdomen. With wide, surprised eyes, you notice his red tip leaking so much precum, dripping down his abs. You involuntarily whine and wiggle your hips in need, your wetness dripping down your thigh. 

“Take it in your mouth.” He orders, voice strict and demanding. 

“But—” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No daddy.” You whisper, looking away and finally gathering the courage to wrap your hands around his girth. You clench your thighs together when you feel him against your palm – warm and heavy, yet the skin was soft at the same time. When you stroke his shaft up and down watching how his precum pours down to your hands, providing you lubrication as it coats his cock. 

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles down at you, feeling so good. He bucks his hips up repeatedly, meeting your timid strokes. 

His patience runs out and slaps your hand away, gripping his cock tightly. Suddenly, he slaps his dick on your cheek, making lewd and wet sounds. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

Obeying his command, you wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You taste the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, trying your best to take more of him. His thick girth was making it hard for you as your jaw immediately feels sore. 

His hand flies to grip your hair, making you whine around his cock, causing vibrations. “Look at that pretty little mouth tryna’ take this cock,” he smirks, “Go deeper baby. Gag around my cock if you don't wanna be punished.” 

Your hips swivel in need from his words, pussy soaking like a river. You slack your jaw as you sink down on his cock, trying to ignore the harsh gags when his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook growls loudly above you, seeing that the corners of your mouth were dripping in saliva. 

He uses both of his hands to force you deeper. Your eyes start to water when you swallow just half of his big dick, already being too much for you. The harsh and wet gagging sounds were music to Jungkook's ear, loving to see you struggle. “Mhm, fuck yes,” he grunts, “Choke on that big dick.” 

He keeps you down there, feeling sinister as his devilish instincts get the best of him. He ignores your cries and pleads, only focusing on the feeling of the sweet vibrations whenever you moaned around him. Or whenever your throat closes around his shaft when you choked, it was all too good for him. 

You immediately tapped on his thighs furiously when you can't take it anymore, but what did he do? He starts fucking your mouth with sharp thrusts of his hips. You whimper, closing your eyes tight as your nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He grabs you by your head as he uses your poor mouth for pleasure. 

Trying to breathe through your nose, you ignore the burning sensation in your mouth yet it feels too good. “Ahhhh holy fucking shit,” he grunts, feeling your throat tighten, “Look at that – fuck. Bad little girl aren't you? Mhm? You're my bad, naughty girl.” Jungkook mocks, watching the stream of tears drip down your cheeks. 

Finally, he pulled out and there were thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He groans loudly, his cock twitching as it lays back on his stomach. 

“Ohh, c'mere baby girl, come here.” Jungkook whispers and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds that made you hiss. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches close to yours. You try not to be intimidated by his menacing eyes, but he notices this and clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it again that made you inhale sharply. Jungkook sees your pout, your lips bruised from your numerous bites, and he chuckles. 

He tugs you until his lips are right upon your ear. “You wanna cum, baby?” 

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice was, although you nod your head. “Please, daddy.” 

“Oh but do you deserve it? Do you even deserve a cock like mine?” 

You hate how frustrated he can make you. You punch your hands down on his chest, whining, “I-I do…” 

Jungkook quirks a brow up, immediately forcing your hands behind your back. He roughly grasps your wrists together with one hand, surely leaving a red bruise. He bites his lip, “You do?” He swiftly lands a spank on your right ass cheek, making you moan. “Then sink down on my cock.” 

With a puff of your breath, Jungkook helps you align his dick to your sopping entrance. You couldn’t breathe properly, anticipating what will happen as soon as you slowly sink yourself on his thick tip. 

“Ohhh daddy!” Your walls stretch out as you take his tip in, making you feel a harsh, stinging sensation as he rips your walls. If it wasn’t with his impressive girth, it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Jungkook grunts, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he watches your pussy take him further, your juices coating his shaft. He tightens his hold on your wrists, slightly bucking his hips up. Jungkook lands another hard, loud spank. 

“Daddy you're so b-big,” you moan, almost halfway down his dick but you can't take more of him anymore. Jungkook gets turned on from the sweet tone of your voice, the thought of tainting such a girl like you made him chuckle. 

Jungkook feeds himself from the idea of corrupting you, letting you know how it feels to truly rebel. Who the fuck cares about what your parents think? Humans are all going to die anyway, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. 

You start to bounce up and down slowly, your pussy rubbing against him, feeling the thick protruding veins upon your walls. You dig your nails onto your palm, eyes closed shut as you prop yourself up to your feet. 

“That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock,” he insinuates, watching your face contort in pleasure. With your eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut and mouth wide open, Jungkook’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Look at that fucking face, cant take it?” he snickers. 

“I can, I can,” you pant tirelessly, legs getting sore. Your brows drew deeper as you concentrated on the feeling of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves so good, already so close to an orgasm from how big he is. 

But Jungkook wanted more. He wants it harder, rougher. He wants to shoot his hot cum so hard and deep inside your fresh womb, filling you up. He wants to wreck your body until you break. 

So he releases your hands free and instead grabs a hold of your waist firmly, keeping you still. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to thrust his hips up like crazy. 

Your jaw drops into an ‘o’ shape and you release a particular loud squeal. Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder, throwing your head back as he continues to drill your abused cunt. His balls slap against your ass, creating lewd slapping noises. 

“Dadddyyyyy!” you shriek, eyes expanding so wide from the unexpected bliss of electric currents shooting down your spine. You can't handle it, your orgasm snapping in a quick second. “I'm—!” 

Jungkook groans loudly when your pussy squirts your cum all over his dick and gushes all over his stomach. He fucks you through your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your head as your legs shake from the unexpecting feeling. Your mind seems to cloud in lust as he doesn’t stop fucking you. 

“Shit,” he laughs, “look at this poor little girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass before he spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth, kneading the bruised flesh right after. “Squirting all over daddy. You love my big cock so much, huh? You horny, desperate little slut.” 

Before you can even process what he just said, he flips you over until you lay down flat on your stomach. He hovers on top of you, keeping his dick in without pulling out. You yelp as he wraps his big hand around your throat, tightly squeezing your jugular without mercy. 

“A-ahhh oh—” you choke, letting your forehead down to rest on the sheets as he continues to pound you from behind. 

He had absolutely no mercy, using you as his little fucktoy for his pleasure, abusing your pussy like it was made for his demon cock. He chokes you harder, almost making you see stars. 

Your cunt throbs once again, signalling that another orgasm is coming near. “Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you moan, heavy puffs of breath coming out of your mouth every time he thrusts into you. 

Jungkook feels his nerves getting hotter and hotter, his cock aching to cum. He doesn't think of anything else but the way your walls clench so tightly around him. “Gonna break this motherfucking pussy of yours,” he growls, leaning down until his chest presses against your sweaty back. “I'm gonna fucking paint your walls with my cum, baby. You're gonna take all of it, you're gonna take all of daddy's cum in that tight cunt.”

Your legs squirm, hands closing into fists as you hit the bed over and over from how sensitive you become. Your hands claw the sheets tightly, back arching from the breathtaking pleasure. 

“Ahhhh daddy! Ohh my fucking— ahhh yes, yes yes!” your body crumbles, mouth wide open as you scream while you cum for the second time. Your pussy pulses so harshly around his dick, coating it with your juices, making it more wet for him. 

He groans, removing his hand from your throat and slaps your ass again. “Naughty little shit right here.” It was so messy, just how he likes it. His cum covered in your glistening arousal, fucking you through your high. 

He immediately flips you around again, making you face him. He smirks cockily from your flushed chest and face, noticing that you were having trouble opening your eyes. 

He leans down and rests his forearms beside your head, “Take it baby, take it.” he murmurs roughly, his balls getting heavier. “Take my fucking dick.”

Your legs never seem to stop quivering, everything around you seems blurry besides Jungkook's face. How does he still look so handsome and perfect? His black hair falls down his forehead, swaying with every hard thrust, his deep dimples peeking through when he bites his lower lip slowly while he savors the feeling of your warm, wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum in you baby,” he pants, holding your cheek in one hand. “Daddy’s gonna cum so fuckin’ hard for you.” You notice a dark, sinister forming his lips as he looks down at you. There it was again, that intimidating, almost teasing look. 

He growls roughly, hips staying still inside you as he dips down to gnaw at your shoulder. You hiss, whimpering when he sinks his teeth so harshly into your delicate skin, leaving an ugly mark. “Ah-ahh, daddy!” His cock spurts out warm strings of his seed, filling you up to the brim. 

“Mmm, mmm, fuck yeah,” he moans, “take it, Y/n.” 

When he pulls his cock out, his pupils enlarge as he sees your arousal dripping out of your cunt and onto your bed. He chuckles, stroking his cock a couple of times to milk himself furthermore, not wasting any of his sperm.

The two of you were breathless, breathing heavily. Your legs feel so sore and you can't feel them either, your ass stinging from his numerous rough spanks. 

“Clean yourself up, Y/n.” Jungkook suddenly throws you a wet towel, about to ask him where it came from, although he just stares at you blankly with a quirked brow. 

Gulping, you nod and start wiping yourself clean. 

~

He can't leave now. Not after all of this. 

There was something that attracted yourself to him. You can't seem to grasp what it is – but whenever Jungkook looks at you in the eyes, you feel like submitting. 

It was like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. He possesses your body now. 

“Crawl to me, my love.” He whispers, and you were easily drawn to his beautiful eyes. 

Still naked, you do as you're told and crawl towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He wears his pants, thankfully covering his goods. 

He sighs and softly caresses your cheek with a warm hand, making you flutter your eyes shut whilst leaning against his palm. He hums delightfully, smirking. 

“Surrender.” He purrs, eyes drooping down as he looks at you with such gentleness, almost with care. He leans down until your faces are mere inches away from each other. “Surrender to me, my love. And I’ll take you to somewhere you belong.”

Your eyes shimmer, batting your eyelashes as you gawk up at him with eagerness. “W-Where I belong?” you repeat in question.

“Yes, Y/n.” He smiles, showing you his perfect teeth. “Where no one will judge you, no one will criticize you for you. You can be whoever you want, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”

Mouth getting dry, your nerves heat up once again, feeling nothing but anticipation. “Yes.”

Jungkook holds your face in two hands, compelling you to stare unswervingly at his red eyes. “Submit to me, Y/n, and you’ll never worry about this earth’s dreadful problems.” His voice gravelly yet dark, somehow different to his normal human speaking voice. 

You didn’t know what he really means by ‘submit’, or where he was supposed to take you. But your mind was telling you to go. Your consciousness speaks to you like someone was whispering in your ear what to do. You kneel before him, still keeping eye-contact. The air around the two of your shifts and it suddenly grows warm as your body starts to sweat.

“Where are…” your voice was breathy, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook starts to chuckle, brushing your hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, your heart races when he presses a tender, wet kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widen, heart beating out of your chest when he continues to kiss you down to the bridge of your nose, until it stops right upon your lips. He hovers his mouth right against yours, feeling his warm breath.

He whispers the words so ominously that goosebumps appear all over your arms and legs. “I’m gonna take you down to hell.” 

Jungkook watches your face go pale, all the blood leaving your face as you gaze at him with such big, surprised eyes. Without warning, he presses his lips against yours. You can’t keep up with him, his kiss rough and dominating. You whimper when his hand goes to wrap itself around your throat, pulling you closer. His tongue easily slips in your mouth, causing you to gasp. Jungkook smirks through the kiss as he controls the way your mouth moves. The two muscles dance together with such need and passion, hands getting sweaty. 

He bites your bottom lip, chewing on the soft flesh while he gently rolls it against his teeth. Jungkook growls, eyebrows furrowing. He can’t seem to get enough of you, wanting you all for himself. He’s addicted to you; your scent, your beautiful eyes, your body, he doesn’t want to leave this earth without you. 

He needs you down with him. 

Jungkook pulls out as he watches your flushed face, all out of breath. There was nothing else that you could do but whine about the loss of his lips. You were craving more of him. You pout, hoping that he’ll give in but Jungkook just shakes his head with a smirk. 

“Answer me, baby. Go down with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” He insinuates, “I’ll treat you like my own fucking queen. Don’t you want that?” 

You nod your head furiously, “I do want that,” you say softly. 

He clicks his tongue, “Tch, louder.” 

“I want it, please. Bring me with you.” Jungkook watches your pupils dilate, growing bigger as you speak. “Please.” 

Jungkook smiles. And within a flash, the black smoke that was encircling the two of you all this time thickens and starts to wash over the two of you. You cough uncontrollably yet Jungkook just stands there and watches. The smoke fills your lungs until you lose consciousness. 

~

Sounds of the crackling fire fills your eardrums, and your body tries to accommodate the scorching heat of your surroundings. 

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re nowhere in your room, or in the overworld. All that your eyes can see was miles and miles of dark red and black hills, huge torches of fire everywhere, scattered all over the place. There were girls and boys dressed in all black outfits, walking around the place with blank faces, eyes having stripped off of their emotions.

You look down on yourself and thankfully, you were wearing clothes. A tight red dress that hugs your body perfectly, enhancing your curves.

“Y/n.”

A soft voice calls out your name, and you whip around to see Jungkook in his demon form, smiling at you as he sits on his throne. You feel a warm, familiar feeling in your heart as if coming home and going to bed from a long trip. His blazing eyes lead you to a trance.

He beckons you to him for he lifts his right hand out to you. He eyes your body up and down, fixing his posture whilst he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The way your hips gently sways as you make your way towards him – not losing eye contact – and how your irises burn in desire, it was all that Jungkook asks for.

Your legs move without your permission, leading you up the stone steps to his throne.

His hand was warm when you grasp it, although it was rough and almost hard unlike his human skin, you touch as if there was no difference. You weren’t afraid anymore. Jungkook signals you to sit on his lap, and you gladly obey. With legs on either side of his thigh, you straddle him.

“You’re mine, baby.” Jungkook snarls, “This is your place now.”

“I…” you speak for the first time, “I can’t see my friends and family anymore?”

He shakes his head no with a sly grin.

You exhale, a big smile painting your face. You’ve never felt so content and happy in your entire life.

“Then I love it here.”  

Jungkook makes sure that your angels can’t and won’t look for you anymore. He swears that he’ll protect you in every way possible, promising to shield you from anything that will hurt you. Jungkook looks at your beautiful red eyes, feeling your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him close. 

The last thing anyone should do is trust a devil — and that goes for your foolish angels. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

travel books and romance novels // Colin Bridgerton

Summary: Colin visits the library for research into his next trip; he didn’t expect to find you.

A/N: Colin’s desire to travel honestly reflects my own. For purposes of the fic, I have aged Colin up - it’s more to fit the plot line of Book Four which is his book anyway. I’m not sure how to feel about this fic, I'm happy with it but I’m not at the same time. I’m not being too harsh on myself however, this is my first time writing for Colin and I haven't got to grips with his character yet. I hope you all like!! <3

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Colin is very cute, pining, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, female reader, she/her pronouns, marriage proposal, happy ending.

Word count: 4k

Colin Bridgerton had spent over two decades of his life on this planet and had yet to find something or someone he loves more than travelling. The bug first bit him in his early twenties; desperate to experience a Grand Tour – a tradition of which that had strongly died out in the past century. He had read about it so often; dreamed of it nearly every day that eventually he put the idea forward to Anthony and his mother, Violet.

Though Violet was apprehensive at first, she warmed up to the idea once Colin gave her permission to choose some of the countries he would visit. Anthony held no qualms; having travelled to France and Spain before tragedy forced the family title upon his shoulders. Being able to travel would forge Colin into the man he should be; it would give him experience, and plenty of stories to tell his children and then eventually, their children.

Upon arriving back in London after his second trip away, Colin found himself glad to be home. He had sorely missed the sounds and smells that accompany London; the clipping of horses hooves and the constant chit-chat of men and women. It was home; it would always be home.

However, as he stepped off the boat or the train, Colin always wondered the same thing. How long would it be until he craved adventure once more?

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

A month.

Colin lasted a month in the company of his beloved family before he was desperate to head off on his next adventure. However, he had no clear destination in mind. He had visited Europe, toured the Mediterranean and had hopes of crossing the Atlantic one day soon, but for now - to save his mother’s poor nerves - was content to remain closer to home.

He wasn’t one to visit libraries himself, usually sending a list of books with a servant whenever they visited the place, but this time he fancied the walk to stretch his legs. He had decided that research was the best way forward into finding his next destination, his next adventure. The library could offer such a thing.

It truly was a thing of wonder; so many books and serial publications at home in one place. The library at Bridgerton House was well stocked and Colin knew he could walk in freely and take whatever he would need, but there was something attractive about going out to find exactly what you need. There was also the added bonus of a lack of interrogation from his much-loved mother.

A huff leaves his body as Colin is pitched forward; barely catching himself before knocking into one of the shelves. Turning, Colin readies the words he wants to fling at the person who had yet they die in his throat when he finds you standing behind him with an apologetic look on your face, close to tears.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” You gasp, bowing your head politely and in apology, “I hadn’t meant to walk into you.”

Colin smiles, brushing down his suit jacket, “It’s no worry, Miss (Y/L/N). No harm done.”

“I hope not,” You reply, biting your lip.

His smile grows wider at the note of concern in your voice. “Truly, Miss (Y/L/N), no harm done.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise.”

“What are you reading?” He asks, nodding at the two books in your hand, changing the subject.

“They’re romances,” You admit shyly, “I read to my aunt twice a week. She rather enjoys them.”

“And you? Do you enjoy them?”

“There are some that I enjoy, yes, but I prefer books with adventures if I’m being honest.”

“Adventures?”

You nod, “I like them very much. What do you read?”

Colin frowns; confused at the question. You gesture to the shelves of books surrounding you, “What do you like to read, Mr. Bridgerton? We are in a library after all.”

“Non-fiction,” He replies, nodding his head to the stack dedicated to true life accounts of travellers. “I’m here doing research.”

“Research?”

“For where I want to travel to next,” Colin clarifies; walking towards the stack, all the while knowing you’re following.

“Have you an idea?”

He shakes his head; disappointed at the admission. For his last two trips abroad, he had known exactly where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do and see. Now, however, he was struggling for ideas.

You nod your head; seemingly understanding the predicament Colin has found himself in. Holding close the hardcover editions of the romances your aunt loved so much, you take a step back from the third eldest Bridgerton.

“I hope you find your location soon, Mr. Bridgerton,” You murmur in farewell, turning away from the tall brunette.

“I hope you enjoy your romances,” Colin replies, watching you walk away. Fleetingly, he wonders if he will see you again.

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

The library remains just as silent as the last time Colin visited. The books he had borrowed heavy in his hands as he returns them to the attendant who nods in thanks. Distantly, he wonder whether he will run into you again. Since meeting you last, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

Colin barely knew you or your family; didn’t know much about your lineage or even whether you knew of his, yet he had not stopped thinking about you and the way you held your books so close to your chest, as if protective of them and what they held even if you didn’t own them. He couldn’t explain the urge he had to get to know you. Colin felt certain that if he wasn’t to see you in the next day or so he was to go mad from the unknown.

Luckily for his sanity, he spies a familiar head of hair amongst the shelves, and he cannot help the surge of happiness that runs through him when he recognises you reading the spines of the books. “Miss (Y/L/N)!” Colin calls out in greeting; rushing over to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You smile, “How have you been? Have you decided on your next destination?”

“I have not though I’ll think of something soon.”

“I look forward to finding out. I’m sure Lady Whistledown will report on it.”

“I’m sure she will,” He drawls; his contempt for the author of the gossip sheet well known amongst family and friends. “How did the romances go down with your aunt? Did she enjoy them?”

Nodding your head, you explain, “Very much so. She usually stays awake for a chapter or two before falling asleep, but this time she stayed awake for close to five. I’m here looking for more books by the same author.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Only if you aren’t too busy. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something more important.”

Colin shakes his head. “I would be happy to help.”

It takes the better part of an hour. Colin proving to be a distraction to your thoughts as you trawl through the shelves in the library. His very presence throws your mind into overdrive; overthinking his intentions for helping you, but also noticing just how handsome he truly is.

“I think we have enough for now,” You eventually comment, finding it hard to keep the sadness out of your voice as you realise that your time with the Bridgerton is up.

“Are three books enough?” Colin asks warily, as if he doesn’t want the time spent together to end either.

Sighing, you nod, “It’s enough to keep her occupied for a while. It takes us a few weeks to get through one book with me visiting her only twice a week.”

Colin nods understandingly, “Then the other romance novels must be for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I much prefer adventure novels though I did tell you that the first time we had met. Though I suppose I didn’t make that much of an impression.”

“I can assure you; you did. I just couldn’t help but notice that you must read far quicker than your aunt so surely you must read the other books you have borrowed.”

Caught out, you avert your gaze back to the books in your hand. Colin tries not to smile in triumph but fails miserably. “How often do you come here?” Colin asks, “Do you borrow books for your aunt alone, or do you read to another relative?”

Pursing your lips, you think over your answer. “I only read to my aunt and I suppose I come here at least once a week, usually on a Wednesday.”

Colin nods, “I shall see you next Wednesday then.”

Watching the Bridgerton walk away from you, you cannot help but wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

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

The friendship that develops with Colin Bridgerton felt entirely natural; as if at some point in your lives your paths were always meant to cross, and a friendship was to begin. Colin finds you in and amongst the stacks of books the following week; a triumphant grin on his lips and his eyes bright with happiness when he finds you once again in the romance aisle.

He starts to offer you suggestions of books to read, meeting you at the library week after week; all the whole continuing his research into where he wants to travel next. He hasn’t settled on a destination, yet he comes to realise that this is the longest he has remained in London in years. Usually, Colin would return home, manage a month with his family before taking off again. A routine his mother has come to despise despite offering her blessing for every trip.

Weeks continue to pass and whilst his family know that Colin has become infatuated with someone, he isn’t ready to share you with them yet. He isn’t ready for the inspecting glances and interrogations from his mother, brothers, and sisters. For now, Colin was more than content to share you with the romance books you swear you don’t love as much as you truly do.

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

The café is busy and getting busier from a lunch rush when Colin sits down across from you. His hair remains a mess despite how often he runs his hands through it in an attempt to flatten it; his eyes are bright as he smiles widely at you.

“I thought you were going to be late,” You admonish, but there’s no heat behind it.

Colin takes a sip of his tea, “I could never be late, not for you.”

“You’re a flatterer.”

“And you’re a romance fan, no matter how many times you try to deny it. Tell me, what are you reading right now?”

You purse your lips, deciding whether to relay the information to him, but the longer you wait, the larger his smile gets. “Definitely not those novels,” You comment, “There is romance in my latest book, but I am reading it for the adventure. It has pirates if you must know, very adventurous.”

Colin laughs, reaching for one of the small cakes on the stand.

“I don’t know how I stand your company,” You complain, trying your best to calm your stomach long enough for you to enjoy the food on your plate. The butterflies raging there were making it rather hard.

“You like me, that’s why.”

“I suppose that is more judgement on me than it is you.”

Colin’s only answer is to wink before returning his attention to the food on his plate. For a while, it is silent between the two of you. happy smiles are exchanged between you both and quiet laughter when you both reach for the same cake; Colin, ever so gracious, lets you have the cake. Instead, he tops up his tea and then yours from the teapot.

“I would like to visit Russia next; I think – St. Petersburg,” Colin declares, breaking the silence once and for all.

“Truly? You would travel so far?” You ask, eyes wandering to the globe on the table in the corner of the room, a display item. Centred on England, Russia could not be seen for the distance between them.

“I’d travel to all four corners of the earth if I could,” Colin admits, voice honest.

You sit back in your chair, eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of travelling even outside the county without a chaperone. “I’d love to travel.”

“It is a marvel,” Colin smiles, thinking back to his trips through Europe and the Mediterranean.

“The only chance I’ll get to travel is on my honeymoon which will be a marvel in itself,” You reply, picking at an invisible thread on your skirts.

“Why?”

You sigh, “Mother doesn’t hold much hope for my marrying. She believes that I have been out for too many seasons and have nothing left to offer that could possibly entice a man into courting me, never mind proposing.”

Colin finds himself gripping the arm of his chair in an attempt to keep his anger at bay. Such words leaving your mouth should be a crime. You have plenty to offer. However, at the sight of your slumped shoulders and sad eyes, Colin realises that you believe the words of your mother; that you truly have nothing left to offer.

On a whim, Colin asks, “Are you attending the Duchess of Hasting’s ball tonight?”

Shaking your head, you explain, “Mother isn’t one for huge events no matter the title of its holder.”

Colin surges forward, grasping your gloved hand, “Come, please. My sister won’t mind. I’ll have her add you to the guest list and send a carriage for you.”

You remain silent as you think over his proposition, ready to turn him down and return to your life of safety but the determination in his eyes and the joy in his smile leaves you nodding your head instead.

“Alright,” You agree, “I shall wait for you carriage.”

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

The London home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings could only be described as grand. Candles line the way to courtyard in which the ball would be held; they provide a romantic atmosphere, providing many a dark corner where young couples could sneak away from their chaperones.

Upon your announcement, you find yourself walking through the large crowd of people, unwittingly searching for the familiar head of brown hair. He finds you first, however, smiling widely as he notices you in the crowd.

Colin excuses himself from his conversation; making his way over to you as fast as he can without bringing too much attention to himself.

“You came,” Colin breathes as if in disbelief that you stand before him. His eyes run over you; taking it all in as his heart races. He hasn’t felt like this before; he hasn’t ever known anyone to make him feel like this. Colin feels as if he wants to show you everything, introduce you to everyone, but also keep you for himself should anyone want to steal you away.

“I said I would,” You smile, heated from his attention.

“You look beautiful,” Colin states truthfully.

“Thank you,” You answer, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you care to dance?” Colin asks, a hand outstretched and waiting.

Smiling, you nod your acceptance. You take his offered hand, letting him leads you to the dancefloor where many other couples are readying themselves for the opening notes of the dance. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Anthony’s eldest brother getting ready to dance with his wife, Kate. He offers Colin a smile and a nod to which Colin’s shoulders relax somewhat. You raise an eyebrow at the brunette only for Colin to shake his head; nothing you need to worry about.

Colin’s hands find themselves in the correct position son your body as you reach for his free hand, resting your hand on his shoulder. The music soon starts up and Colin begins to lead you round the dancefloor in a flurry of spins that leaves you giggling. His face lights up at the sound of your laughter, soon finding himself joining in.

“Stay for one more dance?” He asks as the music dies and you pull away, desperate not to let go of you just yet, happy enough right now to feel your hand in his and your body pressed so close.

“I’d love to,” You answer honestly, letting yourself be pulled back to the dancefloor where Colins hands soon start to feel like home on your body.

By the end of the second dance, you begin to feel dizzy from the spinning. Smiling gratefully at Colin, you apologise for having to bow out. He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand, “Shall we get a drink? I’m sure I saw some lemonade not too long ago.”

“Lemonade sounds perfect. I seem to have worked up quite a thirst.”

“Then by all means,” Colin declares, bowing dramatically at the waist, “We must get the lady a drink.”

Laughing softly, you follow Colin to the drinks table where he hands you a small glass of the cold drink. He goes to take a drink from his own glass but is distracted by his mother calling his name. Colin apologises before leaving you in the company of his sisters, Eloise and Hyacinth.

“Good evening, mother,” Colin greets, dropping his head to kiss her on her cheek.

“Two dances in a row?” She asks as greeting, curious to know just who has distracted her son in this manner.

Colin ducks his head; not ashamed to have been caught out in his feelings, but ashamed that he hasn’t introduced you to his family as of yet. Across the room, despite the music, he hears your laughter. His attention rests on you as he watches you laugh at something said by either Eloise or Hyacinth. Your smile is wide as you try to cover it with your hand; trying to be polite but neither sister care that much as they continue to make you laugh.

You’re beautiful, he realises. He’s known it all along, of course, but with that smile on your face, Colin cannot help but desire to be the one who brings such a smile to life. He wants to be the cause of your smiles and your laughter; the reasons why your eyes crinkle in the corner. He wants it all; he wants it with you.

“I think you know why you haven’t set off on another adventure,” Violet states pointedly; eyes dancing between her son and where you stand, talking to Eloise and Hyacinth. A mother always knows.

Colin’s eyes don’t need to follow his mother’s; they had been on you since you excused yourself from him. He’s finally ready to confront what he had known along. “I think I know too. Do you approve?” He asks; realising he sounds like a child desperate for his mother’s attention.

Violet Bridgerton smiles, brushing Colin’s cheek softly with a gloved hand. “I think you suit each other perfectly.”

The smile that breaks over Colin’s face could only be described as blinding as he takes his mother’s hand from his face, kissing the back of it before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Against her cheek, he whispers, “Thank you, mother.”

Violet nods, eyes lined with tears as she watches her third eldest son walk away from her. She would be the first to admit how well suited you both are; the need for adventure alive in the both of you. She shakes her head fondly as she watches her son make his way over to you; holding out his hand, asking you to dance to which you graciously accept.

Violet begins to walk the outskirts of the ballroom; feeling nothing but pride and happiness for each one of her children and elated in the knowledge that there was soon to be another marriage in the Bridgerton household.

-----------

The morning after the ball is a pleasant one. The weather wonderfully warm as the sun shines through the windows; heating the drawing room pleasantly. Turning your face, you take in the rays, careful not to risk too much exposure.

Your latest read remains open on your lap as you continue to bask in the warmth of the sun. So far, the book has captured your attention and has failed to let it go. The heroine of the novel too relatable personality wise for you to take a break long enough. At this point in the novel, she had offered an ultimatum to her suitor – he can join her on her next escapade, or he can find another woman to marry. You could only hope he would join her in her next adventure; their comradery was too perfect to end so suddenly.

However, after the events of last night, you found it hard to focus on the book long enough to turn the page. Instead, you found yourself reading the same line over and over again, desperately trying to lose yourself in the witty prose of the author.

But your mind focused on last night: the music, the dancing, the company. It had been a dream; it felt like a dream – only your mind could cook something up so perfect, yet deep down you knew you had experienced every second. You were certain you were still dizzy from the spins you had taken when dancing with Colin.

Biting your lip, you think back to the three dances you had shared with the third eldest Bridgerton. Three dances – could it be true? Shaking your head, you answer your own question. It was true; you remember every moment with crystal clarity. Three dances with Colin had to mean something; it had to mean he felt something for you. Your heart begins to race as you think of the possibilities

“Miss,” Your Butler states, interrupting your daydreaming, “A Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to call on you.”

“Show him in,” You answer, standing from your window seat, brushing down the skirts of you dress. Biting your lip, you could only hope that you looked presentable.

“(Y/N),” Colin greets as he enters the room, a large smile on his face. A bouquet of red roses and lady’s breath in his hand that he offers to you.

“They’re beautiful, Colin. Thank you,” You whisper, eyes darting around the room for a vase. They would be put in there after Colin had left.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“What did I do to deserve flowers though?” You ask, a teasing note in your voice.

Colin smiles, “I know where I want to travel to next. I came to tell you.”

A pang of disappointment rushes through your body soon followed by upset. Placing the flowers on the nearest table, you do what you can to avoid his gaze as you ask, “When do you leave?”

“That’s the thing,” He starts, shifting nervously, “I have something to ask of you before.”

“What?”

“Travel with me. Come with me,” He all but pleads, reaching for your hand, “As my wife.”

Your eyes widen as Colin’s grip on your hand tightens. “What?” You question, breath coming in a hurry. “What are you asking me, Colin?”

“I’m asking you to marry me so we can travel together. I’ve seen the world once; I want to see it again with you.”

“I have to admit this isn’t what I expected today,” You ramble, trying your best to not look into his eyes. The moment you do, you’re done for.

“(Y/N)…” Colin interrupts, cutting off your nervous rambling. “I need to know an answer, love.”

It’s only then that you let yourself look into his blue eyes; reading the emotions written over his face. He was promising you adventure; the likes of which you had only read in books. Colin was promising you a future full of love and laughter; a dream you had hoped for since you were a young child.

Suddenly, as you look into his blue, blue eyes, it’s all clear.

“Yes,” You whisper, somewhat breathless but entirely ready to begin your future with the man in front of you, “Let’s see the world together.”

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff​

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Just My Type Pt. 1

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: slight dubcon, stalking behavior, voyeurism, male masturbation, sorta subby shiggy if you squint, reader is pretty gender neutral, no pronouns used, 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: You’re a part time transporter for the LoV and Shigaraki just can’t seem to get you out of his head. So much so that he follows you home and jerks it to you changing in front of your window.  

Note: first time writing for shig and this sat in my drafts forever, I’m thinking of a part two If there is any interest. 

Part 2

AO3 Mirror

He didn’t understand you. 

Though, to be fair, he didn’t really understand anyone—he never needed to. 

As long as the League did what he told them to do when he told them to do it,  that was always enough. Ultimately, people were nothing more than overly complicated pits of questionable motivations, each arbitrarily categorized as good or evil and judged accordingly. Whether or not he understood those motivations was immaterial. 

It was enough to have them simply obey. 

And he’d never bothered with wondering why they followed him. 

But that wasn’t exactly true anymore, because Tomura Shigaraki did wonder now—wondered often, and somewhat obsessively, about you. 

He was doing it now, even. Eyes creeping their way across the dingy floorboards to where you stood by the bar’s entrance. You looked very out of place there, and your voice was almost too loud as it broke the almost constant silence. 

It wasn’t that you stood out, though—really it wasn’t. To anyone else, you probably didn’t at all. In fact, the only reason he became even tangentially aware of you at all was because you came to him for payments. You were just a transporter, showing up every now and then to drop off or pick up a new order and rushing out again. 

‘Reliable’ is the word Kurogiri used. That’s why he recommended you, and he was right. 

You did your job quietly, without error. 

All this was just to say that from the outside you were frustratingly unremarkable—a blip, a smudge on the page of his life’s work in the making. 

And yet. 

And yet you were so impossible to ignore, standing out immediately every time you walked in a room. 

You were nothing special, nothing he hadn’t seen before. Though, now that he thought about it—neck tingling the second he felt your eyes on him—maybe it wasn’t so much that your presence itself was incongruent. No, objectively speaking, you did fit in perfectly amongst the shitty furniture and refuse. But it was specifically the way you carried yourself around him which seemed so blatantly unusual. 

“Everything’s unpacked and accounted for,” you called to him, sauntering over to his seat along the bar. 

You had a particular walk—It was something he noticed early on. Like you always knew exactly where you were going. 

“Good,” he nodded and tossed an envelope of cash your way. 

He never knew what to say to you, so he tried to say as little as possible. Though there were plenty of things he wanted to say. Questions and phrases occurred to him nightly, clamoring at the seal of his lips to escape, to be spoken into reality. 

“Same time next week?” you asked, obvious to the rampage of thoughts in his head. 

You always looked him in the eye when you spoke, no one ever did that. 

“Yeah.” 

The upward quirking of your lips when you spoke made his palms sweat, “See you then. Pleasure doing business with you, as always.” 

Your hand was the last thing to disappear from around the door frame and into the street. As your figure faded away into the crowd, the air seemed to grow heavier. The soft clinking of glasses as Kurogiri tidied up, the oppressive scent of bodies and liquor and smoke all wafted back in. 

Now he’d wait another week to say all of two words to you and pretend it wasn’t the only thing he’d truly looked forward to in years. 

***

So no, Tomura Shigaraki didn’t understand you, but he was beginning to wish that he did. 

Which was concerning in it’s own right. He was not accustomed to whatever the pit that developed in his stomach when you came around was called and for good reason. Things like that got in the way of progress. He knew that much at least. And he tried, so very hard to disregard it, but you kept coming back every week and he— 

He couldn’t. 

It was just because you were attractive. That was what he tried to tell himself. It was because you were attractive and you wore those tight uniforms sometimes and Dabi was...Dabi, so he always pointed it out. It was because you were attractive and he was only human, as much as the rest of the world tried to deny it. That was the only reason you ever crossed his mind. He could accept that. It was a physical response, nothing he could help. 

You were nice to look at, and he appreciated your willingness to do your job and keep your mouth shut otherwise. 

In the beginning, it was easy to convince himself of this. 

Easy to live with just the stolen glimpses of you rushing in and out the door. But as those short few seconds grew and your employment with the League became increasingly stable, just the sight of you weaving through the tables or negotiating with Kurogiri at the bar wasn’t nearly enough to keep him satisfied. 

Then you started staying for drinks some nights, maybe every other week or so, which certainly didn’t help the situation. 

The others liked you enough. Despite the effect you seemed to have on him, to everyone else you were unassuming in a way Tomura was beginning to think must be purposeful. Shallow, yet personable enough to be appealing to just about anyone. He was sure the rest of the team would never notice it, but he had such a hard time doing anything other than drinking in every word that fell from your lips that it was hard not to see the way you casually dodged every question thrown your way. 

In any case, it made you easy to get along with, and so when you did decide to hang back after runs, the bar was always a bit lighter and filled with the scent of drugstore shampoo instead of blood and grime. Tomura himself never actively participated in ‘team bonding activities,’ but he remained in the periphery. 

Listening. Looking.

 At you. 

Tonight was one of those nights, and it was following the same formulaic structure as usual. Kurogiri made everyone a drink, Toga laughed too loud at a terrible joke, and after a few shots Dabi made a thinly veiled pass at you. 

Tomura was starting to think that he did it specifically to get to him, and it was annoyingly effective. His chest grew tight as he watched a scarred and stapled hand slide it’s way into your lap. Tomura’s own nails dug painfully into the scabs of his neck while Dabi’s bit at the flesh of your thigh. 

But the surge of anger, of jealousy, didn’t mean anything. Not really. 

Dabi always pissed him off, so he tried to blame the visceral reaction on the fact that the burnt piece of beef jerky masquerading as human was a bit of a bastard. And since everything Dabi did pissed him off, it also made sense that this did too. 

This had absolutely nothing to do with you particularly he thought to himself, even as the burning in his throat lessened when you pulled away and stood to get another drink. 

It made a frustrating amount of sense for you to fuck Dabi, though. He was outspoken in a way Tomura could never match, with a more traditionally dominant manner that attracted partners like moths to his flame. 

He thought maybe you would at first.

Fuck Dabi, that is. You struck him initially as one of those quiet types who saw softness where there was none and clung to it. Gravitated towards broken people in a desperate attempt to fix them, as if that could bring some meaning to your useless existence. Of course, he’d probably made an equally poor first impression as well. 

Regardless, he was fairly certain you never did fuck Dabi. 

Mostly because he would have assuredly rubbed it in Tomura’s face and because sometimes—like right now—he’d push past the churning in his gut to look up as Dabi not-so-casually propositioned you into his bed. And when he did, he caught the way you hid a secret grin behind your hand, ducking your head down with the most incredulous look plastered on your face for just a second. Like you knew that charred asshole didn’t have a fucking clue. 

Though he really couldn’t be sure if that was anything more than a trick of the light. 

“Care to join?” 

Your voice ran through him like a thousand volt shock as he looked up from the table to see you standing just behind him. 

“What?” he asked incredulously. 

He didn’t seen you coming, too busy glaring at your empty seat to notice the signature sound of your footsteps drawing near.

“Do you want to come drink with us?” you said again and nodded towards the empty glass in his hand. 

This wasn’t part of the routine. You hadn’t ever approached him before outside of the necessary work related conversations. Predictably, Tomura fumbled just a bit. 

Yes. “No, I’m done here.” 

The way you kept moving your head to keep eye contact with him was nearing oppressive. He just barely caught the slight frown as you backed away for him to brush past you towards the stairs. 

“Suit yourself,” you shouted after him. 

He didn’t bother answering, just slammed his bedroom door and sat at the edge of the mattress with his head in his hands and his dick raging hard in his pants. 

***

Even from two floors away Tomura heard you getting ready to leave. He could easily picture it, and was currently despite his attempts to think of quite literally anything else. The way you’d slide your empty glass across the bar top and just fade like a shadow into the night air. 

He could hear the rest of the League beginning the crawl up to their respective rooms one by one. And it was the persistent thought of you sliding back into your coat that convinced Tomura to finally let his mind slip. 

All the failed attempts at concocting business strategy, budgets or what he would need you to deliver next fell away, leaving only thoughts of the way your lips fit around the rim of a glass. How the moisture beaded just on the plushest part and your tongue flicked out to wipe it away. 

Then his hand was slipping too, teasing under the waistband of his pants and stroking his still aching cock. 

He’d never had his dick sucked but he imagined—in the dark of his room, listening to you offer your goodbyes through the floorboards—that you’d be good at it. Thought you might nip at his thighs and take his whole length into the wet heat of your mouth in one go. You’d roll your pretty tongue over the head of his cock until he couldn’t take the teasing doses of pleasure. He’d buck his hips up, milking himself with your throat and you’d happily let him. 

Tomura pumped his length, fucking his hand in earnest now. Curiously he made a small ‘o’ with his thumb and index finger, trying to replicate what the seal of your lips might feel like. He closed his eyes and attempted to conjure a good accompanying image: you, on your knees, head bobbing on his cock. And, god that was so good. He even muttered the words under his breath, but it wasn’t quite enough. 

The image quickly shifted as he chased his climax. Maybe you’d want to press your fingers past the tight ring of his ass too till he was a shaking mess, cumming all over your face and chest. He did it himself sometimes, rocking back on his hand when he was really desperate to achieve a knee-weakening high. 

That almost did it, his hand sloppy with drool and precum all while you were just downstairs. 

These moments were the most delicious. When he stopped trying to deny himself of the fantasy—what was always buried in the back of his head when you came around. 

That you might touch him. That you might tell him how good he feels. That you might like it. 

But then the loud click of the door swinging shut on the main floor rang through the halls. And at the thought of you, gone once again, all the images were soured. Instead, the pressing reality wormed it’s way back in. Reminding him that he would only wake up in the morning—as he had so often done—crusted in cum and sweat and wondering if you were the type to stay the night or if you’d disappear from his bed just the way you did from the bar every time the others got a bit too close. 

And the more he allowed that thought to creep it’s way into his head, ripping away his climax, another compulsion grew. He could feel himself cresting a hill as you slipped right through his fingers—taking a nosedive straight into a disaster that smiled up at him with your pretty, pretty lips.  

***

It was just good business practice. 

That’s what Tomura repeated in his head, hoping from streetlight to streetlight just a block or so behind you. But nothing he did was ever strictly good, and the only thing even slightly business related about following you home tonight was that you happened to sort of work for him. 

Damn, you moved fast.

Tomura guessed that shouldn’t come as a shock considering your job depended on it, but it was a struggle not to lose sight of you. He ducked into doorways or alleys when you stopped to cross the street. Your form flitted quickly between the patches of neon-lit sidewalk, passing 24-hour convenience stores and clubs whose thick bass beats reverberated in the cool night air. 

He hung back when you finally began ascending the stairs of what seemed to be an apartment complex at the far side of a dead end. It looked shitty, but in a sort of charming way—vines growing haphazardly up the iron railings and paint chipping so the walls looked like an oil canvas from far away. Tomura watched you take the stairs two at a time until you disappeared into the depths of the building. 

In the stillness that followed, he began to question the point of all this. 

The decision to follow you was not well thought out.

After whipping the mess of spit and cum from his hands, Tomura had snuck out into the hall. Really, he’d only meant to listen, maybe catch an extra glimpse of you before the night ended. But then, through the halfhearted bantering and inane pissing contests, he caught you drifting towards the door. And as he watched you slip, really watched and felt the distance growing between you, something struck him. 

Maybe it was the way that sliver of light pollution from the doorway illuminated the dips and hollows of your profile. Or the sparkle of your coat buttons amongst the smoke from Dabi’s cigarettes. But more likely, it was the way you paused—one foot already in the street—and glanced at him for just a split second. Immediately catching his face hidden between the railings as though you could sense his gaze on you. Like you felt the same shiver down your spine. 

When your eyes roamed over him, they left tremors in their wake. 

It was pathetic. It was sad and disgusting—a part of him knew that—but just that one simple look, that small acknowledgement of his existence had him raging hard in his pants once again. 

Tomura moved without thinking, moved by the shameful compulsion to grab any scrap of attention you’d throw his way and cling to it. 

And now he was here, standing outside your apartment like the creep he knew he was, to do what exactly? What had he hoped to accomplish? He just...he wanted, needed to feel it again. So long he’d subsisted on incredibly complex daydreams and nightly fictional scenarios in which you kissed him and didn’t spit in revulsion at the feel of your lips on his. 

And when you looked at him, half caked in shadow and lit up with haze, he was overcome with a desperate, mortifying need to know for sure that all those dreams weren’t unfounded. 

Tomura Shigaraki wanted you so badly it hurt, like his ribs were cracking under the pressure of it. 

You gave him a crumb with that glance, but he was never known for his patience. No, he was greedy and selfish and he needed more. 

And for once, the powers that be seemed to have taken his side. Just a few minutes after you were swallowed up into the mass of concrete, a light flicked on in one of the upper windows. Through the drawn back curtains, Tomura was absolutely blessed by the sight of you—hands tugging the top from your shoulders and baring swathes of your naked skin for him to wonder at. 

If just a look could get him hard, then this might just kill him on the spot. 

You really shouldn’t be changing in the open like that. Anyone could be watching. 

But with a show this good, well it would be insulting not to take full advantage wouldn’t it? Of course. You’d want him to. How could he waste such a perfect opportunity to jerk himself off to the thought of fucking your perfect chest while he could actually see it. And oh, oh god your nipples were definitely hard and just begging to be sucked on. He could almost taste you in his mouth, feel how silky the buds would be against his tongue. 

Fuck. 

You were going to ruin him. 

Looking around, the street seemed to be deserted, no other buildings lit either. It wasn’t so much that he cared if anyone saw, but letting his guard down so out in the open was never very appealing. Though the visage of you, stripped and illuminated for him alone, was enough to over power any amount of trepidation. 

Tomura’s hand dipped back into his jeans, wrapping around his cock and stroking as best he could in the confined space. Precum streamed from the tip as he teased it with his thumb while you started to shimmy out of your pants. He whimpered at the glimpse of your ass on full display. 

His mind raced. 

You were both exactly and nothing at all what he expected. Which was more to say that the you that existed in his head was an amalgamation of all his favorite porn vids mashed into one, but this—this was nothing like he’d ever seen hastily sifting through tabs on his PC. 

There were marks and dips and curves and angles that he hadn’t thought of before. Hadn’t ever really seen without the separation of clothing and it was delicious and not nearly enough. God, his cock throbbed, gushing at the thought of your thighs around his waist, or head, or hiked over his shoulders. He could give you what you needed, he had no evidence of this but he just knew it. 

You stretched, and he could nearly hear the joints popping. Out in the open, exposed and so close to being caught, all of Tomura’s sense were heightened.  

God what he’d give to see your face, watching, knowing how hard he was for you. He could picture it now: the twinge of shock, the barely disguised pang of want. Maybe you’d be disgusted with him, but really this was all your fault. This is what you did to him. 

The wrongness of it all only made that much more enticing.

Tomura set a steady pace, pumping his hand along the length of his cock, so hard and dripping with every swipe of his thumb over the tip. You were shifting in and out of his view now, rummaging around what he assumed was your bedroom. It was physically painful every time you disappeared, a whine bubbling up in the back of his throat at the loss. 

His length pulsed against his palm and his toes curled inside his sneakers. 

Small, ragged gasps leaked through the cracks in his lips and condensed in the air. In the dim streetlight, the little clouds of condensation shifted and sparkled like sweat on taut skin. He envisioned drool dripping down onto your back as he pounded into you. His free hand dug into the meat of his thigh, pretending as though it was your flesh he was leaving fingerprint bruises on instead. 

Trying to convince himself this was anything other than what it was. 

Tomura’s hand moved faster, knuckles scraping the zipper of his jeans and spilling slow, thin streams of crimson onto his aching dick. It stung and stoked the coiling low in his gut. Fuck, his teeth ground down biting into phantom flesh. What he wouldn’t give to mouth at that perfect curve in your neck, run his tongue up the pulsing vein and hear whatever lovely noises spilled from your lips. 

He was so close to spilling over, but he just a bit more. He’d come this far already, why not dive just a little deeper off the edge?

It wasn’t entirely conscious, the quick steps he took across the street and up the stairs you’d taken. Tomura’s body was functioning on base instincts, carrying him mindlessly closer to the object of his desire. It wasn’t hard to find the right room. It wasn’t a large building, only a few units, and he swore he could smell the familiar scent of your soap wafting out from under the door. 

God he really was a pathetic fucking dog, sniffing you out while his dick was aching to rut into his own hand. 

But as he stood outside, debating whether to dust the whole wall separating your sweet, naked form from him or to pick the lock and slip inside, the knob turned on it’s own. Before he could even think of rushing back to the street, you were standing before him, eyes alight in a way he’d never seen before—wide and blazing and hungry. 

[dancingaliensfics]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.