#you inspired me to make a separate sheet for him <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cursingtoji · 1 year ago

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𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 — 𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

ᥫ᭡ Suguru never thought he would see the girlfriend he murdered years ago when he decided there was no space in his life for non-sorcerers, yet he never said anything about her lost soul.

cw: ghost! f reader x cult leader!geto, reader can’t speak much, invisible fucking (?), oral, fingering, squirting, exhibitionism, body worship, praising, one quick mention of impregnation, slight violence (towards someone else), reader gets jealous of Suda, mentions of buddhist rituals and the antichrist (separate events), poor death jokes. 6.2k words (not sorry). #— cult-tober

ᥫ᭡ inspired by lady k and the sick man — hentai manga (read it at your own risk).

note: thank you everyone who asked about the status of this fic, you encouraged me to finish it <3

Geto knew what he was doing the day he decided to cut everyone out of his life. Some of them, such as Gojo and Shoko, he just cut ties, others, he took their lives.

The people from that despicable village were first, then his own parents, and lastly, his girlfriend.

He would be lying if he said any of these killings made him feel bad, but the one that got closer to hurting him was, of course, yours.

Already numb from the previous deaths, keeping you alive wasn’t really an option.

Though Suguru was gentle, he waited for you to fall asleep while cuddling him after kissing his face and emphasizing how well rested he looked.

“Getting back on your feet, eh?” your words.

He didn’t think he would keep thinking of you, in that moment and the following years he was so focused on his long term goals and new discovered hatred that he managed to push you to the back of his mind.

Now he’s established, he has quite a lot of donors to his cause, a loyal group of sorcerers that share his vision and to top it all, the strongest set of curses that any curse user could only dream of.

Reaching such a satisfying point of his life makes him reflect upon the things he doesn’t have.

When Geto rests his head on the pillow at night he remembers the couples he sees through the day, the teenagers confessing when they can’t even look into each other’s eyes.

Naturally, he thinks of you.

The two of you were different, he took your hand and looked deeply into your eyes, you looked back, for many times after that you tended to look away whenever he said something suggestive or romantic, or even when he stared into your eyes for too long, and Suguru made sure to bring your eyes back to him.

Why couldn’t you have been born a sorcerer? You didn’t even need cursed energy, if you could only see curses that would be enough to him.

Geto sighs, it has been a few months since he started to think of you so frequently.

He’s a man of needs, from time to time he indulges himself into masturbating since sleeping with a human is out of the question and sleeping with a fellow sorcerer would only bring complications into his so-called family.

So, in the mornings, way before any of his duties, he takes the box from under his bed and sprays the perfume you used to use on the pillow beside his. He had an internal fight before buying that perfume, a girl was offering samples outside a store and once the scent reached his nostrils he was invaded by memories he thought he had buried years ago. He bought the bottle nevertheless, shaking his head sadly when the lady asked if she should wrap it as a gift.

The liquid in the bottle hasn’t decreased much, since it lasts quite a long time on his sheets. He sprays once in the pillow, or on his shirt, the one you used to steal from him all the time cause it was your favorite.

His boxers are pushed down, sometimes he fists his cock while looking at the pictures in his box, your pictures, unfortunately he had no spicy pictures, back when you were together nudes weren’t so common, not when you couldn’t password protect a digital camera and flip phones cameras sucked.

He uses the smiling pictures you insisted on taking on your dates, he usually was flipping, or had his tongue out

His favorite is the one you took in a photo booth, the first picture he somehow convinced you to show your tongue with him, the second both of you were laughing, the third you were kissing.

Those three pictures, plus the smell of your perfume is enough for him to remember that kiss vividly.

He teases his tip, thinking about how soft your breasts felt under his hand.

He couldn’t kiss you like that and just leave the photo booth, he had you on his lap, the confined space added to the risk of being caught was so exciting.

Geto spills his load on his stomach, his mind still playing the memory of him kissing your neck, while you caressed his hair urging him to soften down quickly so you could leave the booth and go back to your place. He put his arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple and getting a playful slap on his chest. You didn’t like pda, “people look at us weirdly” you said, but were the first to take his hand or pout when didn’t put his arm around you.

Geto is about to fall back asleep, it started to rain outside, he should be up in an hour but he’s feeling too nostalgic, in a bad way, so the association would have to go through the day without him.

Suguru turns to the side, the rain makes him remember the day you met him at his dorm, for what was supposed to be a date, but the weather changed so you cuddled on his single bed giggling about what would happen if someone knew you, a non-sorcerer, was inside such a exclusive facility like jujutsu tech when you shouldn’t even known it existed. Suguru kissed your face, cheeks, nose and lips, and assured you he would fight anyone that dared to say you were not welcome there.

He promised to keep you safe, in simpler times, when he had a best friend and a future as an ally of the jujutsu world.

Suguru feels a lump on his throat, but he swallows it, allowing his mind to fade away and muscles to relax as he’s back asleep.

Apparently, he needed that few more hours. Suguru is awoken suddenly by a loud, trembling sound. He looks around confused, hating to be woken up instead of waking up naturally, his eyes open slowly expecting the sun, but outside is dark, Geto’s head snaps to his alarm clock wondering how he could have slept till so late, but it says eight in the morning still. What started as a rain turned into a full storm by now.

Suguru jumps from his bed, in order to close the window which had already soaked part of his carpet.

“Shit” he closes the glass window and attempts to turn on the lights, but nothing happens, probably a blackout due to the storm.

His bedroom turns cold, colder than before he closed the window.

A lightning illuminates the sky, and by consequence, his room, he sees a figure on the corner before getting swallowed back in the dark, he rubs his eyes sensing something is off.

The blue cursed energy light takes its shape around his hand, whoever/whatever thought it was a good idea to enter his room is about to regret.

He can see a shape, raising his hand to hit it, concentrating his energy on his fist.

Lightning strikes again.

It illuminates a face. Your face.

Geto’s hand is stopped in the air, his eyebrows leave the frown state and his mouth is hung open.

The electricity returns, his lamp casting a warm light into the bedroom.

He can fully see you now, taking a step back and lowering his hand.

Your face is much paler, hair is longer, like all the years that have passed to him passed to you too. That if you hadn’t seen the sun, or cut your hair, if you were alive all this time or… dead, as it looks, a phantasmagoric version of the girl he used to know.

You have a white dress — or more like a nightgown on —, it’s long and the straps are thin, looks comfortable. He hopes you felt comfortable all this time.

Geto says your name, in a whisper, rubbing his eyes again and wondering if he’s still dreaming.

You brace yourself slowly, as if you’re the one scared in this situation, he watches your mouth parting but closing again.

“Is it really you?” he takes a step closer but you take a step back hitting the wall, “Are you… afraid of me?”

Your eyes widen, they look opaque, shineless. Then you furrow your eyebrows, turn your hands into fists and hit his chest.

“You’re mad, I get it, I deserve it” he lets you punch him groaning angrily, never saying a word, he wonders if you can even speak.

“C’mere” he wraps his arms around you when you start to whimper.

Suguru considers actually being crazy or dreaming, cause you still smell like your old perfume.

“I’m not sure what is happening, I don’t really care, just please don’t go away” he tightens his hold on you believing you could disappear anytime, “You heard me? I was calling your name earlier” he lets go to caress your face, it’s still weird to look at your face when you have this bluish hue instead of the warm cheeks he knew.

You look away, exactly like you did when he said something naughty. So you did hear him when he was touching himself looking at your pictures together. Then he remembers something new, a conversation you had about whether he would find another girlfriend if you died, the type of thing a girl asks in a relationship when she’s bored. That or if their boyfriends would still love them if they were a worm.

Suguru doesn't seem to remember his answer, though he knew you had a tendency to get jealous easily.

“Not sure how much you saw all this time, but just so you know I’ve never been with anyone else” he assures.

Your gaze returns to him surprised, you didn’t know as it seems, he feels like asking questions, how long have you been around? What do you remember?

“You’re cold” he rubs your arms and your strap slides down allowing him to notice your breasts and your nipples marking the fabric, “I’m picking you up, alright?” and he does, wondering if you’re lighter or if he’s got stronger.

Suguru places you on his bed, now a much larger and more comfortable one than the one he had in his jujutsu tech dorm. He lays with you and covers you both with a duvet as you wiggle on his hold trying to find that position you liked to cuddle at.

“You’re so soft” his hand runs on your thigh, “I missed you so much” he squeezes you smelling your hair and kissing your temple all the way down your cheeks — which are way warmer now — until he meets your lips which he starts to peck lightly, though the pent up energy and the way his heart aches for you doesn’t allow him to take this slowly, instead he’s quick to deepen the kiss rolling his tongue with yours and pushing your straps down to fondle with yours breasts.

You whimper and try to move your legs from under him, with no success as he’s drunk on the feeling of having your body under his again.

Such sensitive nipples hardening under his fingers, the taste of you, yours hands pushing his—

He’s pushed off the bed with more strength than he ever thought you would have. You get rid of the duvet and kneels down to where he lays on the floor, he thinks that’s all a play until a very real hand slaps his face, harshly, then you run and disappear through the wall.

Suguru sighs, noticing his boner and resting on the floor.

“…then we’ll be all set, Geto-sama. Geto-sama?” Suda asks, noticing how deep he’s in whatever he’s reading.

“Thank you, Manami” he dismisses her, not taking his eyes off the book.

Geto decided to do some research, to understand how it was possible for you to have appeared to him.

Turns out, in all the books and archives he has of the jujutsu world, there’s only one explanation for why a human would have come back after death.

He cursed you, somehow.

Reversing the curse.

He closes the book when seeing the title of the next chapter, that’s not what he’s interested in.

Geto closes his eyes massaging the bridge of his nose, that day’s duties are already giving him a headache.

A hand manifests out of thin air, touching his cheek. Definitely something worthy of a jump scare, but after an initial surprise, Geto softens his features and puts his hand on top of yours.

The rest of your body manifests slowly, you’re on top of the table he was reading at, your legs dangle on the side, your hair covers part of your face and it’s long enough to reach the table's surface.

“Hello, beautiful” he brushes the hair away from your face, your thumb rubs his cheekbone, the place you hit the day before, it’s not sore or even bruised, the only scar that it left was an emotional one and he senses you’re apologizing for hitting him, though he’s the one that should be begging your forgiveness.

“I’m sorry about last time, I got too excited to see you again and forgot the most important thing” he took both your cold hands and kissed your knuckles, “To apologize, for taking your life” he’s not capable of looking up, not yet, “I’m sorry.”

He thought if he should do that for a long time, since he doesn’t regret the things he’s done to get where he is today, and Geto believed that if you had the chance to go back in time to do things differently and still wouldn’t do it, you couldn’t say you’re sorry for what you did. And he would do it all over again.

He is sorry for you though, he’s sorry for crossing your life and revealing all the things you shouldn’t know in the first place, he’s sorry for depriving you from a normal life, unaware of the existence of curses and sorcerers.

“I’m glad you’re here now” he rests his head on your lap hugging your hips and bringing you closer.

You caress his hair, minding the bun, his hair is also much longer than the last time you saw him, you always said he should grow it out since his hair was so naturally lustrous. He teased you, asking if you were jealous of his gorgeous hair. Now, he snorts, remembering the conversation and untying the half bun so you can run your fingers freely.

Geto, with his head still on your lap notices your feet dangling happily, one on each side of his. He reaches for your right one, brushing his fingers on your sole causing you to squeal, he laughs softly, seemingly you’re not able to speak, only to express yourself through little sounds. His hand wraps around your ankle then rubs the extension of your calves until he reaches your knee, pushing the hem of your dress just enough to expose your thigh for him to start kissing.

“We don’t have to do anything okay? I just want to touch you” he rubs his cheek on the skin of your thigh, like a cat asking for affection.

Your hands leave his hair and his heart beats faster assuming you’re about to leave him, instead you take the hem of your dress and lift it up all the way to your hips, revealing your uncovered pussy to him. The afterlife must be more comfortable without underwear.

Geto grins, accepting what you’re offering him, pushing his chair enough to give him space to dip his head lower and further into your legs.

You being the good dead girl you are, lean back and spread your legs watching with wide eyes the black head of the cult leader getting lost under your dress.

He starts by kissing your folds and rubbing the space between your hips and thighs, taking a mental note of how warm you get when touched by him.

Suguru nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose on your clit while you squirm. He takes your ankle and helps place your foot on the table to give him more room to eat you out.

What a sin it would be if someone so good at sweet talking others was bad with his tongue.

Thankfully that’s not Suguru.

He quickly drives his attention to your hole, teasing it until he feels your hand gripping his hair, he spreads your flexed leg further and pushes his tongue in, not being able to hold back a moan when he feels you contracting around his muscle.

His nail is digging on your thigh, which he can tell you desperately want to close, still so sensible even after all these years.

Soft breaths echo through the library, Geto feels bad for not being able to hear your beautiful moans, maybe there’s a book about giving back ghosts their voices? Well, the whole thing is a work in progress, but right now he’s too busy to progress that far.

You tug his hair twice, “What’s that, love? Trying to say something?” he keeps his tongue still, pressing it in your bud and shaking his head slightly, he can hear you’re trying to say something over breathy gasps, “You beggin’?” he chuckles on your core, the vibrations make you want more so you raise your other leg, “Who am I to say no to my girl…”

Suguru slides both hands to your lower back, holding you still and kicking his chair back to kneel and be more leveled with your cunt.

He loved to finger you, seeing your face contorting and kissing your tears when you orgasmed on his hand, but he loves more making you cum with his mouth only. Felt so much more intimate, it was the same difference of killing someone with a weapon and with his bare hands. Not an analogy many people can understand, but makes perfect sense to him.

Suguru laps at you like a mad man, sucking and using teeth, every tool he has to give you the orgasm of your lif—

The best orgasm you ever had.

And he knows it’s working due to your shaking thighs and arching spine.

He’s almost without air but when he notices your curving toes he tells himself to endure a bit more.

“Oh it’s coming” and soon he’s rewarded with your throbbing clit on his lips and a clear liquid being sprayed on his chin and chest. Being the tease he is, he laps at your swollen bud a bit more till you have to push him away.

“Sweet” he murmurs, kissing your shaking thigh and admiring your swollen glistening folds. You lay back to recover from the mind blowing orgasm and he sneaks a hand to grab his phone, opening the camera but frowning his eyebrows when nothing but the table getting reflected in his screen. Apparently phone cameras don’t work on ghosts “Too bad, guess I’ll have to remember the sight” he rests his head on your thigh and reaches a finger to caress you like he’s drawing on your skin.

“Geto-sama, we got another check” Suda pushes the door and you sit up quickly, but her eyes are solo on Geto, a questionable look on her face, probably noticing his disheveled hair and his kneeled position on the floor, “Is everything okay?”

Suguru blinks, shifting his eyes to you and her, doubting if his fellow sorcerer really couldn’t see the half naked woman dripping on the table.

Maybe even sorcerers couldn’t see it all.

“Yes, you can give me that” he got up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, taking the envelope and closing the door.

When he turns back you are gone. Geto sighs and bumps his head on the door.

Still managing to deal with everything that has been happening, Geto goes to the scheduled meeting in a bad mood, not having seen you since the library incident the previous day.

He’s the last one to arrive, sitting cross legged on the mat at the head of the table. Suda is on his right, taking notes on the meeting, which is boring Geto to no end.

Suda leans in, whispering a question to Geto and showing the notes while the rest of the people discuss financial matters.

“Did someone open the window? It’s so cold all of the sudden” Suda rubs her arms and Geto raises his head from the hand supporting it.

The room did get chiller.

He looks behind his shoulder and sees you, under a different light, a darker one. Your hair is floating and your face is dark, he can only see your widened eyes, they’re fixed on Suda.

Geto raises an eyebrow and discreetly pats his lap smiling at you.

The dark aura around you fades off a little bit and he can see your beautiful features again while you move your bare feet in his direction and take a seat between his legs facing him. In a natural motion he runs his hand on your hair and kisses your forehead, hoping it actually looked natural and not like he was patting an invisible person.

“Geto-sama, is this correct?” Suda leans in again, pushing her cleavage into Geto’s view and invading his — unknowingly also yours — personal space.

Your head turns almost 360°, the scary things you do only turn Suguru on more. The dark aura is back again.

“Don’t be jealous” he whispers very quietly.

“What was that?” Suda asks leaning in more.

You turn the rest of your body in a ghost-like manner, reaching claw-like hand to Suda’s face.

“Yes, Manami, please pay attention” he takes your hand, guiding it slowly to his pants so you could see how happy he was to see you meanwhile his other hand raises your dress and massages your folds.

You lean back on his chest, he puts his chin on top of your head looking down at your beautiful legs extended under the table.

“Isn’t that right, Geto-sama?” Larue asks and everybody turns their attention to their mentally-checked-out leader. Geto notices you tensing up, like their attention is on you too. Which would be if they could see you.

Afterall, who wouldn’t want to see a gorgeous little thing melting by having her clit played with under her dress?

You two never took things out of the bedroom, so the recent days have been nothing but new experiences.

Swiftly, Geto hooks his finger on the top of your dress bringing it down and exposing your breasts to, in reality, no one but himself, still you squeak and try to cover yourself but Geto is faster, holding both your hands behind you.

“Sounds great” he smiles at the people waiting for an answer about a topic he couldn’t care less about, instead he’s more concerned about moving the two fingers inside your gummy walls.

They get back to discussing it among themselves, Geto pretends to pay attention looking at a fixed spot and missing the way Suda is looking at him.

You don’t miss it though.

That’s how you’re supposed to look at him, you only.

It’s borderline outrageous to see her so heart eyed at your man while he’s finger-deep inside your cunt with his erection poking your lower back.

Jealousy starts to take over you again, Suguru is still holding your arms, so you use your leg to swing a move on the water jar on top of the table, shattering it and spilling the water all over Suda.

Everyone gasps, raising from the table and removing their paper to avoid getting wet too.

“What was that?!” she yells.

“Seems like we have a naughty ghost around” Geto jokes, pinching your clit, “Or it’s a sign from heavens to end this meeting, Suda please try to save these notes” he motions to her soaked notepad, “Close the door on your way out, I’ll clean this.”

“But Geto-sama—“ he knew someone would protest it.

“We’ll continue tomorrow” he said firmly, everyone bowed respectfully before leaving the room.

“Tsk tsk, that was unnecessary” he lets go of your arms, you turn around, kissing your man and pushing his chest until he’s laying on the floor with you on top.

Geto puts his arm around you, keeping you close while playing with your tongues, he’s strong enough to hold you tight, not letting you get away from him.

Your hands go to his complicated clothing, trying to undo the knots of it and free him for you to touch.

“Here, I got this” he undoes everything that needs to be undone with one hand while still holding you, you finish pushing his clothing out of his body until every fabric that once wrapped him is thrown all over the floors of the small room.

Finally, you could see him.

Geto kisses your ear and sucks your lobe while you run your hand over his torso, a faded memory coming to your head when you touch the x shaped scar on his chest. It’s much lighter now, you remember it being a shade of purple and red, holding back your tears at the time for seeing your lover hurt like that. He ensured it was nothing, he barely felt it due to the adrenaline.

At the time you wished you were there to take care of him, to patch and clean him, now you realize you wouldn’t be able to survive if you saw him bleeding and unconscious.

Maybe it all happened for the best.

You touch his abdomen, following the happy trail down to his shaft.

Geto is so strong now, he’s big enough for you to feel small even being on top of him, his thighs support you and his strong arm ensures you stay close.

You take his dick in your hand, kissing his neck and pumping him slowly. Suguru throws his head back, moving his hand to hold your ass as you work him up. Not that he needed much, from the moment he saw you crazy jealous over Suda he was hard already. No, actually, scratch that, from the moment he saw you, he was hard already. His heart beat faster, pumping the blood that went straight to his dick.

“Alright, baby, I can’t wait anymore” he pushes your dress up, getting you completely bare like him and moving your hips until your cunt hovers above his throbbing cock. You sink on him biting your lips, a habit from when you actually had a voice to moan and thought you should keep quiet.

Geto though, moans for the two of you, not caring if anyone hears him ‘cause he’s the boss, what would they do?

The feeling of your pussy around his cock is all he can think now, if you asked him to release all his curses right now he would.

God, he missed this. No toy would ever come close to the real thing.

Geto can’t help but admire your long hair, it is like a waterfall, running through your body and pooling on his torso. He takes a strand and plays with it around his finger.

“You’re still so tight, move your pretty ass for me, yes?” you nod, adjusting your posture and setting a rhythm, “That’s it, good girl” he holds your breast, rubbing a thumb on your perky nipple and raising enough to take the other one on his mouth.

Whatever important things he had that day, it’s all canceled now. His new plan is to stay buried in your pussy and sucking your tits all day long.

“You’re doing so well, baby, but I’ll take charge now, ‘kay?” he reaches behind you to brush away the glass remains and places you on top of the table carefully, “You’re so cute” he bends to kiss you, your hands caress his back muscles, thighs holding him inside you.

You don’t let him go away, not even for an inch, not even when you need air… do you really need it though? What would happen if you didn’t breathe? Die? Hah.

“So needy” he laughs softly and pecks your lips actually needing air, now he’s the one with long hair falling on your face, you brush it back and nibble on his chin, clenching around him as he hits that delicious spot.

Suguru is so pretty. Back then he had a boyish look and young charm, now he’s a man, his jawline is stronger and he lost some fat he had on his cheeks, too bad because you loved to kiss his soft cheeks. His arms are way bigger now too, when he readjusts himself to fuck you on a better angle you get a view that no sculpture in the world would ever compare. Light shines behind Suguru, his chest glistens with sweat, some strands of his hair sticking to his perfect skin, the sight of his v line alone makes your clit throb.

Geto stretches you so well and perfectly, “So good, baby.”

He's an angel, you’re convinced. Makes sense now, this is your heaven, being beside him forever, getting him to touch you in front of other people without feeling shame, haunting women that look at him with lust in their eyes.

“Nnnhg Sugu—“ you slap your mouth shocked by the actual words that came out.

“Fuck” he grabs your face kissing you hard, “Say that again” he asks thought a breathy almost desperate tone.

“Su—guru, Suguru” you moan, barely using a real voice.

“Fuck, I’m close. Can I come inside, baby? Huh?” he presses your belly down, “Maybe we should test whether you can get pregnant, that would be a miracle right? Or maybe we would have the antichrist” he smirks in a teasing way and you lightly slap his chest, not liking the idea of bearing the evil, although if he keeps thrusting like that you might change your mind.

Your legs tighten around his small waist, pulling him closer, “Squeezing me so well, I— haa“ he shuts his eyes, “‘Wanna cum with you, love” he lowers his hand to where you meet rubbing your clit with his thumb, you raise your hands to his shoulder pulling him to you until your sweaty foreheads touch.

Geto can see through your rolling eyes you’re close so he speeds up his thumb while thrusting sloppier.

“Still feels like our first time, you know?” he confesses, in love with the way you feel, not just your insides but also, your smell, your warmth, your sounds. All his sense are focused on you.

Your knot finally unties, nails sinking on his shoulder and heels pressing on his back, your mouth is hanging open while Suguru nuzzles on your cheek, “I’m losing my mind” your hips roll trying to meet his thrusts, he cums hard too, moaning majestically and filling you so much you know you won’t be able to hold it all.

“Oh baby” he runs a hand on your face, kissing you lovely. You kiss him back, putting in the gesture every word you cannot say.

Suguru was still trying to manage his duties as a leader and as a boyfriend, at least that’s what he thinks he is since you don’t exactly have the privilege to see other people and he doesn’t even want other people.

The thing is, unlike a normal (alive) girlfriend, you can’t go with him anywhere. To be more specific, apparently you can’t even leave the premises of the temple, the furthest you can go is sitting at the engawa and dangle your feet off the edge. Suguru promised to find whatever was keeping you there and figure a way to have you around him wherever he is.

Now, he’s in Hokkaido, after holding you cold dead hands and promising he would be back soon. In the meantime you explored every inch of the floor where Suguru slept, trying to find some item that was tying you there, with no success. So you begin to wander into other areas of the temple, with Suguru gone there isn't that many people around either, and even though no one can see you, it still felt weird being around other people, especially when someone walked through you.

When you enter the praying room you notice someone there, sitting on their knees in front of a buddha statue.

Curiosity takes the best of you and you approach the man, wanting to hear what he's praying for, you bend your torso beside him, having your long hair touch the floor, you suppose it would be a scary sight, but you doubt anyone except Geto can see you at this point.

You adjust your posture, but being clumsy doesn't go away with your physical body, so you stumble and end up hitting a gong.

And of course, it doesn't go through you as it's supposed to. Whoever is in charge of deciding the moments you can touch the physical realm is a sadist.

The man who was praying is now standing up shaking like crazy, he’s asking who’s there but you cover your mouth (as if you could speak anyways). A second man enters the room, due to his traditional clothing you judge he’s an authority figure in the temple, but not being a buddhist during your lifetime you can’t be certain.

The first man is explaining what happened while you try to tiptoe your way out of this embarrassing situation (for you and scary for the man that will probably not sleep tonight).

Before you leave you can hear the second man saying this sorta thing has been happening around the temple, people are reporting a sudden cold air, things being moved out of the place and crying sounds during the night.

All your fault of course and half Geto’s fault on the last statement.

Not sad cries by the way but you can see why people would think that.

In fact, Suguru was very determined to have you voicing your pleasure, you still can’t talk, but he learned that through a very strong emotion your voice cords become stronger or at least existent for a brief moment. He’s still testing that and writing his experiments in a notebook.

Suguru says he wants to bring you back at some point but for now he can only do those kinds of experiments, you are happy to be beside him no matter what so you naturally accepts being his guinea pig, the initial resentment you had when you first saw him that day is long gone now. Is not like you have enough energy to think about your death anyways, at some point during the day you become extremely sleepy and eventually disappear, so you have to make the best out of your time with Geto.

Being back in his room you find your way under his blankets, the previous interaction seemed to have drained your energy, you should tell Geto about that so he can write it down in his notebook.

Finally.

Geto opens the car door before the vehicle fully stops at the entrance of the temple, it was only 2 days but he felt like weeks passed by.

And it wasn’t just a homesick feeling, he barely had a home. He just missed you. For years he was by himself, being satisfied with a few pictures and a perfume bottle, yet now he has the real thing — you —, one day without you hits harder than the almost ten years that went by.

It’s punishment, he knows it, the guilt must be felt, he didn’t feel it for ten years so he’s gotta feel it all in two days.

If only you could have a phone in the afterlife to facetime him…

None of that is important now, because he’s back and on his way to find you.

What he finds instead is concerning.

A familiar man with traditional clothes holds a cord and repeats a buddhist chant. The floor he lives in smells weird, in the corner of the room you have your hands around your ears, sitting on your knees and glitching like a scene playing in an old tv during a storm.

“S-Stop” he hears from you, in a strangled hoarse voice.

Suguru’s heart stops for a second, considering for the first time the chance of you being taken away from him. Again.

No, that won’t happen. That exorcism will not continue.

His heart is back, beating at its fastest now, he summons a curse, one too strong for a simple monkey, he blames his emotions for that but he smiles when he sees the half body dropping on the floor.

Your eyes are closed, hands still covering your ears, when you open them — after realizing the awful pain in your heart and head is gone — Suguru is standing in front of you, kneeling and smiling kindly.

He takes your head, running his thumb on your cheek before kissing you, trying to engrave the shape of your lips on his.

“Keep your eyes close for me, beautiful” you obey, keeping them shut when Suguru manhandles you into his hold and gets up, bringing you to his bedroom and away from the dead body, afraid of the bad memories it may bring you.

“There you go, i’m sorry about that” he kisses your forehead sitting down at his chair with you, “Guess it’s too dangerous to leave you alone, huh?”

You snuggle on his embrace, happy to finally have him back to warm you.

Through a whisper — since that’s the loudest sound that can possibly leave your lips — you confess “I missed you” Suguru pulls you away to look at your face, you can see he’s surprised you managed to speak, he also notices the glassy look in your eyes.

“I love you” your eyes widen, it’s the first time since your death he says it.

Since your death?

“I can’t say I'm sorry” he kissed your cheek and closed your still opened eyes “but I can say I love you, i’ll always love you.”

The memory makes your eyes water.

Well, maybe it’s not the first time since your death, but the first in your afterlife.

“I’ll do whatever it takes for us to stay together.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sad-darksoul @grsveeth0m @getomybeloved @sakurasimppp

note: my inbox is open for theories about this au, you can also check the #ghost!reader tag. also keep giving me ideas and i’ll keep writing 🤭

#geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #geto x y/n #geto x you #suguru x reader #geto x female reader #— cult-tober

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residenthughes · 10 months ago

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slow sundays - mat barzal

pairing: mat barzal x gender neutral reader

word count: 1k

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, no mention of y/n

summary: any day spent with barzal is always good, especially sundays.

notes: a little something i wrote when i should have been sleeping, oops! may write a longer version, may not but i'll definitely write up something else longer for barzy, as well as some other fics that i've started and am very excited to share, hehe! as always, hope this finds u well and that you enjoy this small ball of fluff. much love! <3

oh! forgot to mention, this post is inspired by this post by @novelbear! they spoil tumblr rotten with such adorable prompts! :)

Sundays are your favourite days of the week. The normal anxieties that creep in from a long lived weekend cease to exist in your timeline, a day defined by slow sweetness and sacred serenity. This year you’ve really lucked out with said day, most of Mat’s games scheduled another time and on the off chance he has practice, it’s before you can even pry yourself from the comfort of your cloud-like mattress. This is one of those Sundays, where you’re tucked away in citrus scented sheets, fast asleep as Mat presses a tender kiss on the bridge of your nose before he goes off to do what he does best, leaving you to emerge from your cocoon whenever you please.

You decide shortly after Mat departs to desert the covers, arranging them neatly with a sleepy pout set onto your puffy lips before starting your share of morning chores. Amidst the array of bits and bobs you cater to around your cosy home, you cook up a breakfast built for two - piping hot and ready to eat by the time Mat’s car pulls up the driveway.

You drape your arms lazily around his nape, beaming a lovesick grin as you peck your long-time lover. “Good practice?”

“Great practice,” he breathes against you, minty fresh with the faint waft of his accompanying cologne. His strong arms pull you impossibly closer, your body snug in his embrace. “But I’ve got better things waiting for me right here.”

His large hands cup a handful of your butt, giving it a cheeky squeeze that involuntarily makes you jump against him, your cheeks crimsoning. “And to think, that’s the thanks I get for making us breakfast.”

Mat releases his grip as you back away, disbelief washing all over his sculpted features as he gives you a cocked eyebrow and a petty laugh. “Says the one who-”

Your hand comes up, an index finger raised. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Wordlessly, Mat holds his hands up in surrender, brazen-faced as you send him an eye-roll with crossed arms. Despite the circumstances, your hands find the top of his zipper, opening up his coat before you hang it up near the door in perfect routine. The selfless action still warrants one of your favourite kisses from your boyfriend, kisses from side-to-side - a kiss on the cheek, nose and cheek again. A simple action but one that robs you of all oxygen, a lightness in your limbs and a tingle down your spine. You soon turn around with Mat trailing not far behind as you venture back to your spacious kitchen, settling at the quaint table for two - a single vase rose separating your plates packed with all your breakfast favourites.

Before you have the chance to take your seat at your baby blue painted table, Mat comes up from behind you, cradling you in his sugary embrace as he plants a delicate kiss against your temple, your heart overflowing with the magic of your slow Sundays together. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You hum blissfully, a hand delicate against his stubble-ridden cheek as you simply exist together, limbs tangled as you savour the moment like sand slipping through your fingertips. A quick kiss against Mat’s prickly cheek puts a pause on the moment, your grin giddy as your hand takes Mat’s as you direct him to sit, which he does - no questions asked, fuschia dusted upon the apples of his cheeks.

You fall into perfect routine, your brunch a show that consists of all your favourites: Mat’s cutlery glimmering in the soft rays pouring into the windowed kitchen as he cuts his food, ceremoniously offering you the first bite of his food with the same smitten closed mouth smile that he had the first day he met you. Happily, you accept his generous offer and take a bite, beaming with full rosy cheeks as he swipes the crumbs with such an earnest shimmer in his eyes that it makes your heart squeeze with joy.

Your brunch continues in similar fashion, two enamoured partners basking in the company of another as you bond over a hearty plate of food, time lost in endless dialogues and timeless ‘I love you’s. When there’s nothing but crumbs speckled across your ceramic plates, Mat shoos you away before you can get a protest in, you resorting to sulking on the edge of couch as the sounds of plates clinking together competes with the noise coming from the TV.

When everything’s said and done, the washing up dried and packed away, Mat shuffles into the lounge, falling into the couch with a grunt as he positions himself as close to you as possible. You can never bring yourself to mind, head falling to his broad shoulder once he’s propped his feet against the hickory coffee table with his arm circling your shoulders. Another kiss atop your head tells you he’s settled and you melt into his side, no objections sounding from your long-time boyfriend as reruns of 'The Bachelor' blare from the TV. If anything, Mat immerses just as much as you. Well, as much as the slightly fatigue man can as his fingers absently fiddle with locks of your hair, the gesture a lullaby that aids your sudden drowsiness that links hands with the warmth emitting from Mat’s body that always fits against yours like a puzzle piece.

Before you’re able to drift away into a shallow slumber, a slumber you both shall share prior to your simple plans for the day, Mat’s sleep-laced voice calls out to you.

“Waking up next to you is the best part of my day.”

And you chuckle softly because of the simple fact you know this to be true - evidenced in the way affirmations of love fall so easily from his lips, in the way he never allows you to walk near any busy roads and buys you flowers just because. And, best of all, when your precious Sunday comes and goes, your Monday view consists of your beautiful boyfriend as you reverse out of your driveway, a sleepy smile mellowed into his features as he sees you off, hollering one and the same line wishing you a great day at work, which is nothing but granted if you’ve got him by your side.

#mb13 #mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x you #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #new york islanders #ny isles #ny islanders #residenthughes

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beom-pyu · 2 years ago

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cologne ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x fem!reader , tags; lakeside cabin vacation funtime yay , summer , frenemies w beomgyu , annoyed reader , more friends to lovers bc why not! , some enemies to lovers? , jealous!beomgyu , nsfw , reader is in deep denial , silent pining , can't be a beom-pyu fic without fluff at the end!

warnings: smut (minors dni!) , slight frottage , thigh fucking , jealousy , subtle perv beomgyu? very subtle , beomgyu is a little possessive , cursing , needy beomgyu

( inspiration: cologne by beabadoobee!! literally has nothing to do with the song, but the vibe just reminded me of this fic so! :] )

a/n: just something cute and simple since it's almost summer!!! also, THANK YOU ALL FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS!! im oh so grateful for all of you readers and your lovely comments as well as cute tags and reblogs <;3 you guys make my day!!!

wc: 4.1k+

12:01 a.m

you place the last pillow in between your bodies, humming in approval at your makeshift pillow border. you clap your hands once to get beomgyu's attention, the brunette looking up at you with exasperation from the other side of the small bed.

"okay, so the rules are very clear. don't cross this line, don't—"

"don't touch your stuff, and don't talk to you. i know. you've repeated yourself like twelve times," beomgyu finishes your interrupted speech, ending his sentence with a roll of his eyes.

your face contorts into disgust at the boy on the other side of the pillow wall, rolling your eyes back at him. "whatever. don't steal all of the blanket either."

beomgyu's lip curls up in an equal amount of repulsion, running his annoying fingers through his annoying hair. you abruptly turn your back to him, laying down to pull the sheets up to your chin.

it’s just your luck to be stuck with beomgyu for your friend group outing. you are now solidified in your belief that flipping a coin was the most idiotic way to pick roommates.

how did you end up with the single bed and choi beomgyu? this has to be some type of spiritual karma. maybe you should've given up your seat on the bus for that old lady after all.

"don't tell me what to do," he mumbles as he reaches over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table next to him, settling into the covers. you have half the mind to shoot a snarky retort back at him, but you decide to be the bigger person (for once) and just go to sleep.

this does not mean he wins though.

rule #1 (don't cross the pillow border) seems to be the easiest rule to follow. you both sleep with your backs to each other, bodies fully separated by the plush cushions you’d stolen from the cabin’s couch. it may be the littlest bit uncomfortable, but you rather wake up with a stiff back than feel beomgyu's annoying foot touch your leg under the sheets.

a shiver racks down your spine simply at the thought.

rule #2 (don't touch your stuff) is a little harder for choi “annoying bitch” beomgyu, much to your dismay. when you get up at 3 a.m. to pee, you notice your charger plugged into beomgyu's annoying phone, your own phone sitting sadly next to it at a whopping 23%. when did he even…?

you inhale deeply to calm yourself.

now, you would’ve… should’ve chucked beomgyu's phone across the room and poured ice down the back of his shirt in retaliation to breaking your rule, but when you look down at his sleeping face, you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

beomgyu's annoyingly pink lips are slightly parted, his annoying hair all messy and flopped over his annoying forehead into his annoying eyes, and his annoying chest rises and falls deeply.

he looks peaceful. cute, even.

...

wait.

what. the. fuck?

you silently gag at yourself, shaking your head before pulling a face at the passing thought. you must really be sleep deprived if you think choi “assface” beomgyu looks cute right now. even after breaking rule #2 (don't touch your stuff)!

you shake your head, shuffling over to unplug his phone, pretending to hit him with the device before you toss it to the foot of the bed. you happily plug yours back in before carrying on with your mission to the bathroom.

by the time morning rolls around, rule #3 (don't talk to you) is beyond broken.

there is no reason, no reason at all, as to why you are awoken to beomgyu's shouts bouncing off the walls of the small cabin room.

"SPIDER! Y/N, GET UP! THERE'S A FUCKING SPIDER!"

you groan as you try to blink your eyes open to assess the situation, but the blinding sunlight through the sheer curtains of the room burns your corneas, your eyes squeezing shut again.

“just kill it then!” you whine, burying your head back into your pillow in an attempt to tune him out and fall back asleep. you couldn’t have been any dumber though—in a single beat, the warm white blanket over your body is pulled off, the cool morning air attacking your skin immediately. “what’s your fucking problem?!”

“get your ass up and kill it for me!” beomgyu’s annoying voice fills your ears, and that was your final straw, grabbing the pillow from under your head to chuck it in the direction of the noise, successfully hearing a muffled ‘oof’ in the distance. you smile in victory.

“damn, what did i do?”

instead of hearing beomgyu’s complaints of getting hit, you’re instead met with his loud cackles. you peek an eye open to see soobin standing in the doorway with a pout on his lips and a pillow in his hands. wrong target.

“sorry, soobin! i was trying to hit that loser,” you apologize, sitting up to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you point toward beomgyu’s annoying figure. you see soobin give you a small smile, shaking his head slightly, and beomgyu frowns at the name you called him. serves him right.

after a good 5 minutes of soobin attempting to chase down the spider and get rid of it with beomgyu on his tail recording the entire interaction, you manage to drift off to sleep again, happily spreading your entire body out in the starfish position now that you have the bed all to yourself.

another few hours pass before a hand is shaking you awake.

“5 more minutes,” you grumble, turning onto your side to curl up into the fetal position, blanket still long gone.

“c’mon, y/n! get dressed—we’re going to the lake!” kai announces enthusiastically, shaking you again until you finally open your eyes, feeling a little disappointed at the fact that the voice doesn’t belong to beomgyu.

…

only because you're in the mood to argue! that’s why!

that’s totally why…

3:36 p.m

"soobin!" you shout down the trail, waving a bit as said soobin stops in his tracks, turning around to wait for you to catch up. you jog a bit to meet him, a wide smile crossing his face.

"hey y/n. you coming from the lake?" you guys fall into stride together, nodding mindlessly at his words.

"mhm. i forgot a towel.” you motion to your drenched body, and soobin hums in confirmation.

“i’m heading back too. yeonjun’s rod broke,” soobin informs you, holding up the broken fishing rod with a small, sheepish smile. you laugh a bit at the poor sight, covering your smile behind your hand.

“how did that even happen?”

and from there ensued a step-by-step breakdown of how yeonjun managed to break a pro-grade fishing rod, trailing into a bunch of other crazy stories soobin has to tell as you trek to the cabin. once you get back, your stomach hurts from laughing so much. soobin has his arm slung over your shoulders as he continues to tell the most embarrassing story of his life and you just can’t help it.

"stop laughing at me! everyone saw naruto my underwear," soobin whines, but the smile on his face gives it all away.

“maybe stop wearing jeans that are 2 sizes too small? you’re not in one direction,” you tease as you walk into the cabin, slipping off your flip-flops by the door. you hear soobin half scoff and half laugh at your comment, his hand coming to your waist faintly as to move your body so he can slip past.

you see beomgyu sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, watching you guys with narrowed eyes as he bites into an apple slowly. you feel uncomfortable with his intense gaze on you, suddenly aware of the wet bikini on your body, wrapping your arms around yourself self-consciously.

“you try finding a good pair of jeans when you’re 6’1,” soobin retorts, taking his own shoes off before looking around for the fishing supplies. you puff out a chuckle, heading over to the kitchen, you brush past beomgyu’s figure to dig in the freezer, your back fully turned to him.

“you want a popsicle, soobin?” you call over your shoulder as you pick out a strawberry one for yourself and a cherry one for soobin, already knowing his answer.

“yes, please!” he responds in a silly voice and you smile a bit at the action, turning around to make your way back over to him. your brows furrow at the sudden disappearance of beomgyu’s presence but shrug it away, making your way over to your lanky friend.

“did you want me to walk you back to the lake?” soobin asks from where his head is ducked into a closet, sounds of clanking filling the space as he digs around. you think for a moment as you lick your popsicle.

“no, you go ahead. i’m gonna shower and then help taehyun set up the grill,” you respond, soobin letting out a little noise of triumph as he finally locates the fishing rods, standing back up straight.

“thank you,” he speaks as you pass him the popsicle, patting your head affectionately. “i’ll see you later!”

“see you!”

and then he’s swiftly out the door, leaving you alone in the front room of the cabin. you’re reminded of your drenched body when you look down to see the puddle you’ve trailed across the hardwood floor, mentally promising to clean it up before you make your way back to your shared room.

you knock on the door before entering, just in case someone just so happens to be inside changing or something. when you receive no response, you push the door open to see beomgyu on the bed, headphones covering his ears. they don’t seem to be doing the best job though, considering the fact that you can still hear the music blasting through the speakers.

the eardrum damage must explain why he ignored your rules last night. you accidentally let out a cackle at your own inside joke, somehow gaining the attention of beomgyu who looks up at you with startled eyes. he removes his headphones to settle around his neck before the infamous lip curl appears on his face.

"you fucking scared me. why were you creeping like that?" beomgyu shoots towards you, venom in his voice. it doesn’t phase you one bit though, pursing your lips as you shrug your shoulders, licking your slowly melting popsicle as you head over to your bag on the opposite side of the bed.

"i knocked but you didn't hear cause of your loud ass music. not my fault."

you can feel beomgyu's eye roll from behind your head, but instead of receiving a retort back, he remains silent. it’s odd. choi “always has something to say” beomgyu doesn’t have a comeback ready for you? you grab your towel and stand back up to face him, cocking your head. he’s acting weird.

"why are you acting weird?"

very classy.

beomgyu looks up from his phone screen, squinting his eyes at you. his lips are pressed together tightly, his hair messy, and in his eyes like it had been that night, your mind flashing back to his sleeping appearance.

gross. totally not cute. he’s choi beomgyu—so he’s automatically gross. he has to be.

"i'm not..." beomgyu drags out as if he’s unsure of his own statement. "i'm just tired because someone decided to make us sleep in the worst position known to man."

you give him a small glare before focusing your attention back down on your bag to grab your body wash and loofah. a beat passes as he continues.

"you seem to be having fun with soobin though."

your head lifts back up, giving him an inquisitive stare.

“what? you can’t stand seeing me actually happy and not trying to rip my hair out like when i’m around you?” you laugh in amusement, flipping your towel over your shoulder to reduce the clutter in your hands. you could’ve missed it—you almost missed it—the way beomgyu’s eyes slightly dull at your words, nibbling on his bottom lip in thought. you try not to think of it though, walking to leave the room.

“anyways, we’re grilling at the lake in like 2 hours so don’t try to say i didn’t tell you!” and that was that as you exit, an uneasy swirling within your gut.

2:23 a.m

you sit on the edge of the bed as you plug in your phone, making sure its in the outlet on your side of the bed this time to avoid any more rule-breaking. you adjust your tank top as you stand to retrieve some more pillows. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re struggling to ignore the way beomgyu has been acting around you all day.

little touches at the lake, playfully wiping your mouth during dinner, sharing a blanket with you as you all sat around the campfire, his head on your shoulder. maybe he really was just tired today. maybe he was so out of it that he didn’t realize how out of the norm he’s been acting.

it’s not like you hate choi “mr. annoying” beomgyu. that isn’t the case at all! you’d even go as far as to consider him your… friend. he just has a knack for pushing all your wrong buttons, evoking such guttural annoyance out of your body in a way that no one else can. it’s always been that way since the day you first met in high school.

but he’s never been like this, you think as you grab the pillows off of the floor to rebuild your pillow wall. his voice stops your movement, though, your head whipping around to see a freshly showered beomgyu—his hair is all wet and wavy, his skin smooth and golden from the summer sun. the sweatpants he’s wearing hang low on his hips, revealing the waistband of his underwear.

you swallow a bit as your eyes widen at his figure.

only because you’re not used to seeing him in such a minuscule amount of clothes!

yeah… that’s why.

“can we go without the stupid border? my back still fucking hurts from last night,” beomgyu complains as he makes his way over to the bed, looking a little too good in the warm lighting of the bedside table’s lamp, an orange hue casting over his skin.

you’re frozen as you watch the way his muscles move as he climbs into the bed, laying on his back with his hands behind his head. his eyes meet yours, a brow raised in question. you blink, snapping yourself out of whatever trance you were in, clearing your throat as you drop the pillows back onto the ground.

“yea, whatever. just—don’t touch me with your gross feet,” you mumble, slipping into the bed yourself. beomgyu laughs a bit at your words, reaching over to turn off the lamp.

“just my feet, huh? so you wouldn’t care if it were my hands?” he asks, obviously joking—but you feel your stomach swoop slightly at the thought.

no! you’re just tired. it’s been a long day.

“don’t touch me at all, loser. and don’t talk to me either! starting now.” you turn your back to him, a perfect mirror of the night before as you pull the blanket up and over your body. the room is silent other than the slight creaking of the wooden bedframe as beomgyu gets comfortable.

as much as you want to ignore his presence completely, you simply can’t. he’s too close to your body, so close that you can feel his steady breaths on your shoulder, his body heat radiating onto your exposed skin. you try to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to just sleep, but he scoots closer. and closer. and closer—until his chest is fully pressed against your back, a hand coming to rest on your hip.

your heart pounds in your ears as you take in his touch. you should be telling him to get off of you, or push him onto the floor for breaking your rule! but his hand is heavy and hot on your hip, his fingers playing with the hem of your tank top for a second before they dip underneath, splaying his hand out onto your tummy. his touch is hot and searing. your stomach flips at the sensation.

you can feel his dick chub up against your sleeping pants, his hips slowly rutting up against you. you feel heat rush to your core at the simple action, your heart stuttering a bit.

“beomgyu, what are you doing?” you whisper, voice shaky and unstable as you feel him roll his hips onto your ass.

“please, let me break your rules just this once,” he whispers back, deep voice filling your ears, clouding up your mind. his voice is breathy and low, holding you back against him. “i need—fuck, please, i just—”

his words come out sparse as he rolls his hips against yours again. your mouth is dry, unsure if this is even real. the beomgyu you know wouldn’t even dare to be closer than 2 feet near you, and now here he is, begging in your ear.

“what do you need, beomgyu?” you mumble back, biting your lip as he ruts against you a little faster, a small broken moan leaving his lips at the friction. you’re wet—you can feel yourself dripping into your panties as his fingers press into your skin.

“you, y/n. i need y—been wanting you all day,” he whines into your ear, his nose nudging against your shoulder. it’s all too intimate, too intense—and you hate the fact that you like the way his breath feels on the back of your neck. “can i fuck your thighs, please? please, i won’t put it in—just your thighs, please.”

you inhale, wanting to weigh out the pros and cons—but you want him just as badly. your head is nodding before you can even think and beomgyu’s lips press against your shoulder, mumbling thank yous as his hands scramble to pull down your pants and underwear in one swift motion, before pulling his dick out. you feel it twitch on your lower back and you press against him, enjoying the way his breathing picks up a little too much.

you lift your leg a bit so he can slide his heavy dick in between your thighs, his shaft nudged up against your wet pussy. you sigh at the weight, beomgyu’s hand pressing flat against your stomach to hold you in place.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whimpers out as he begins thrusting quickly, going dumb at the way your cunt drips onto his length, easing the glide. you tilt your head back a bit and beomgyu’s immediately kissing up the expanse of your neck, nipping at your skin, moaning in your ear. it’s so lewd and dirty and your hand comes down to rub at your clit, moaning quietly at the relief.

beomgyu notices your movement, brushing your hand away to do the work for you, his soft fingers rubbing delicious circles on your bud as his thrusts quicken, your thighs becoming wet with a mixture of your own slick and his precome. you can’t help the quiet moans falling out of your mouth at the feeling, his fingers moving just right over your sensitive clit, the drag of his veiny dick applying the perfect amount of pressure against your entrance.

“‘m better than soobin. so much better than him. only i can make you feel like this,” he mumbles into your skin, voice high and whiny as he thrusts against you, pressing down on your clit in a way that makes your gut tighten. you can barely process his words—something about soobin?—but you’re too lost in beomgyu’s touch, his hips stuttering against your gushing pussy.

you’re unable to control your noises as your hand grabs onto his wrist, feeling your orgasm rushing upon you quickly. beomgyu’s dick is twitching against your folds and the combination of his breathy moans and stimulation on your swollen bud is too much. your body tenses up as you cum, pleasure washing over you in waves as you whimper in beomgyu’s arms.

“that’s it, baby. cum on my cock—fuck, just like that,” beomgyu talks you through your orgasm, fingers only slowing on your clit as he cums himself. you can feel the stripes of burning cum shoot onto your thighs, his thrusts faltering as he whines, mouth hot against your skin. you lay there catching your breath, head spinning as you gradually come back to reality, beomgyu’s hand still pressed against your rising and falling stomach.

his forehead rests on your shoulder, breathing heavily for a bit before you feel delicate kisses on your skin, trailing up your neck. you lean into his touch, letting those butterflies swarm your stomach again at the little action.

you don’t want to speak first—you don’t know what to say. after all these years of fighting with beomgyu over the pettiest things, all the tension has led up to this point. you aren’t sure how to feel… but you think you kind of like it.

and maybe you kind of like choi “annoying loser” beomgyu as well.

you feel beomgyu slide out from in between your legs, moving over to the other side of the bed in silence. you feel a little disappointed at the disappearance of his touch.

“i’m gonna go get a towel, okay?” beomgyu speaks softly as he moves to stand, pulling his pants back up. his face is flushed and the tips of his ears are bright red, a shy smile on his face.

“okay,” you respond quietly with a small smile of your own, acknowledging the way your stomach flips at the sight of him. what the hell are you going to do now?

it doesn’t take long for beomgyu to return with a wet rag, climbing over the sheets to clean you up. his brows are furrowed as he focuses on his task, and you cover your face in embarrassment at the closeness of it all—with his body in between your legs, gently wiping up the mess he made. you pull your hands away as his movements stop, helping you get dressed again.

his gaze on you is heavy and you try not to meet his eyes, face hot and flustered as the entire situation fully dawns on you. he’s having none of it though, hovering over your body to turn your head so your gaze locks onto his eyes, his blown-out pupils a little too sparkly, making your heart flutter a little too much.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly—gently as if his voice was only made for you to hear. you nod in response. you want to shrink under his inquisitive stare, but there’s nowhere to run as you’re fully caged in by his body.

you see the way his eyes flutter down to your lips for a quick second before they’re glued onto your eyes again. “please don’t tell me you regret that because i don’t. not at all.”

he sounds desperate, pitiful almost, and you reach up to brush the strands of hair out of his face with a small smile. because you don’t regret it either.

“remember that no talking to me rule?” you start, seeing the way beomgyu’s lips pout in disappointment, unsure of where you’re going with this. “how about you kiss me instead?”

beomgyu doesn’t give you a second to breathe before his lips crash onto yours roughly, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for years.

and oh fuck... maybe he has.

you sigh into the kiss, reaching to the back of his neck to bring him closer to you, his body lowering onto yours. his lips are incredibly soft, his weight comforting on top of your body. his hand comes to hold your cheek gently, thumb swiping over your skin. it’s everything and more—it’s something you didn’t even know you had been waiting for.

when he pulls away from you, it’s slow and gentle. beomgyu leans down to press a few more quick kisses onto your lips, a tiny smile settling onto his face as he rolls over to the other side of the bed, pulling you into his arms. you melt into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso.

“i swear to god though, gyu. your feet better not touch me,” you mumble into his chest, feeling his body rumble with laughter.

“rules are made to be broken, baby,” beomgyu speaks before his still-very-annoying foot touches yours under the sheets. you squeal in shock at his cold skin, but laughter quickly overtakes any annoyance that was bound to wind up in you.

you’ll let it slide. just this once.

reblogs are highly cherished!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt smut #txt scenarios #beomgyu #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu smut #beomgyu scenaries #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beom-pyu

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withonly-sweetheart · 2 months ago

Text

Starry Eyed Singer

You're a scientist, not a singer, but when the newest experiment takes a liking to not only you, but your voice, you might just be the key to finding the rest of them. And although he's stuck behind the confines that keep him away from you, that hide the songs that he knows could have you throwing yourself into the water for him, he won't hurt you. After all, how could he? When you're his starry eyed singer.

a/n: first lets ignore the fact there's only dialogue at the last bit im so tired of this literally its been two whole ass weeks I NEVER GO PAST A DEADLINE IM GONNA TWEAK buuuut i really really like this idea i just think that for a theme, this is short and sweet enough for me! i would definitely want to expand on this as a whole, and i couldn't resist adding a dead dove ending <3 (im a creepy mf ik)

find the bad ending here...

alright now its time for credits

@bunnivievve - this is literally her au. like seriously i took everything from her analysis sheet like i would not be here without you. i salute you fine woman you are the reason i wake up and write siren leon. + thank you sm for ur hc i hope it's fitting to what you were thinking!!! THISSSSS LITERALLY THIS IS WHAT INSPIRED ME SMMM <333

@larvamars - help im sorry for mentioning you but i kinda took the art of leon looming over the scientist in that one piece of urs to heart... yeah... thinkin abt that while writing this really helped <3 so tysm just crediting people where credit is due!!

@sirenhub <- ngl i thought of you while writing this the WHOLE time i was tryna be freaky... get it bc ur name is siren... also the dead dove ending is dedicated to you my love... please drown me to the bottom of the ocean.. <333

@vampiricgf <- KITAA WE'RE TWINNING SO HARD ON THIS ONE... ur au is better than mine i fear but its ok this is a connection i couldn't pass up

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: descriptions of loss and grief, reader's mother is dead, luis angst, tiny mention of smut but nun too bad, brother i can't write anything without making it sound like shakespeare and not in a good way...

wc: 7.3k

The pearl of the ocean. He’s watched every wretched person who’s confined him here, with their white coverings and spectacles resting on their too sharp noses, their awkward gait and their irregular size. And not one was interesting enough to keep him intrigued for more than a day.

And then you appeared in his life, a presence uninvited, a treasure undeserving of his touch, not that he would be able to get his fingers on you either way. Your eyes were so lively, restless, sparkling like stars through the clear material that separates you.

If only you could hear him. He was sure just a moment of his voice would be enough to ensure your enrapture, enough to ensnare you like they had caught him off the coast. His colony had warned him enough times of all the dangers the shore brought, yet something brought him back.

You are alike in that sense, hunger consuming you from the inside out, fatal if not for the restraints that were easier for him to hold than you. He can feel your eyes on him as he languidly floats through the somewhat roomy tank they house him in, temporary, of course, but for three months he’s been stuck behind this insufferable, invisible surface that sets the barrier between you both.

A creature of the sea and a creature of the land. He entertains quiet thoughts of you at night, when his dreams should be fitful, longing to be free in the ocean, yet the yearning for you is stronger. He assumes it is mutual, why else would you act the way you do? Enamored, entranced, elated enough to send shoals of fish skittering through his stomach.

But he mistakes fascination for infatuation.

<><><><>

You cast Luis a sideways glance, a strange haze between you, air infecting what used to come so naturally, seeping into your skin, sealing your lips shut as if your banter was planned and you’re finally speechless.

His fingers flick the lighter lid open, then back, setting a rhythm that should be comfortable enough to make up for your unnatural silence, but it only serves to make things worse. You resist the urge to bristle when he finally speaks.

“You really don’t know why you’re here,” he murmurs, and you would’ve missed it, hidden under the whirring gears vibrating in the ground if not for the fact you’ve been expecting it.

You scoff. “What do you think?”

“I think that you must’ve done something.” He sighs and leans forward, tense in every aspect except for his mouth, brown butter molding to the cherry of his lips that purse, abandoning the man you knew. “Why leave both of us in here? Alone?”

His tone is suggestive, and you might’ve dismissed it as playful under other circumstances, but you know exactly what he’s doing—making a fool out of you.

“Tell me,” you insist. Luis leans back, the lamp in the hallway shining through the window, bronzing the copper planes of his face. He links his hands together and rests them palm upward on his forehead, closing his eyes.

After a few moments of silence, he cracks one of them open, narrowed as soon as he realizes you’re still watching, still waiting for an answer he’s far too reluctant to hand over.

“Impatient, are you?”

“You’re the one who fucked everything up! If you had just listened when I said the radar was, what, three feet off, we could’ve caught it just fine! But no, guess who has to play the hero?” you seethe. You feel your heartbeat thrum under where your fingers lie on your wrist, pulsing like a warning. Back off.

“Are you a senior scientist?” He quirks an eyebrow, challenging you to a fight you’ll surely lose, but when have you ever backed down to him? “I didn’t think as much.”

That pet name irks you enough to spark a retort, one you didn’t even think about before it’s past your lips and hanging in the air between you.

“I’ll rip that badge off your shirt before they get here if you don’t tell me why the fuck we’ve both been stuck in here for three hours!” Your voice is level to an extent, level like you’ve never thought to be calm.

His arms fall down to his knees, elbowing the meat of his thighs, eyes drawn back to you. “Are you always this irritable?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, curving them upward. “Or am I just lucky to be sitting next to a beautiful woman with the temper to match?”

You scowl, unable to summon the grin that you wish would appear in your mind. Seeing that you aren’t as amused at him at his little joke, the smile slips right off his face, and that sullen expression usurps his features.

“They found it,” he admits, albeit quietly, as if he’s afraid someone will hear. “Right after we left.”

“They… did?”

“Mhm,” he confirms, voice low and throaty. His lips part and you lean forward slightly, eager to hear his elaboration. “A new project is underway. Experiment 003. And you’ll be-”

The door swings open, and the white light that bathes you isn’t a good sign.

<><><><>

You don’t understand the solemn look on Luis’ face. Shouldn’t he be happy for you? You actually got the assignment you had requested, for once, and with what was once thought to be a creature only found in stories. And yet he stands leaning in the doorway to the lab room, gazing at the water.

It’s been two weeks, and not once have you actually seen this supposed creature. You’re starting to think this is all some elaborate joke Luis has crafted to keep your enthusiasm fresh, but he knows that your praise and effort aren’t akin to fruit and vegetables.

“No progress?” he offers weakly, not once making eye contact with you.

“Why don’t you try?” you reply bitterly. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve gotten any quality sleep, and the laboratory’s coffee runs alongside your blood in your veins, which bubbles back up in the raw coffee beans that swirl on your tongue as you await his response.

“Ouch.” Luis pretends to wince, seemingly hurt. “You might hurt my feelings, chiquita.”

“Good.”

“You can insult me all you want,” he says, damn that clever tongue of his, “but you’re pretty cute when you're mad. Makes it hard for me to take you seriously, mi amor.”

“Why are you like this?” you grit out, sweeping the papers off your desk to slam your clipboard down, crisp paper untouched. Can’t take notes on something you’ve never seen.

“Like what?” he asks, tilting his head. “Ever charming?”

“I was thinking something like bipolar,” you groust. “You’re never just one person, are you? What else are you hiding from me?”

He puts his hands up in defense as you stalk towards him, but he waits until you’re a step away to respond. “Hiding? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muses.

You tilt your head up just as he tilts his head down, and you lock eyes with him, the searing honey dripping from his eyes to yours, cooling quickly enough to create threads of sweet ice connecting you both.

How it feels to long for something you’ll never have.

Your eyes flit to the band on his ring finger.

<><><><>

The cool glass finds your fingertips, aching from restless typing emails back and forth, persisting that you can handle this one. Your encounter with Luis has left you determined to prove you can do it without him, that you’re perfectly capable of ignoring him in the hallways, in the lunchroom, pretending not to hear him call your name across the lab.

But the blue glow dapples your face as you stare into the mirror on your desk, angled towards the picture of you and Luis, acceptance letters crumpled in your hands with your arms over each other’s shoulders, eyes glazed.

One too many drinks that night led to peppering his face with kisses, sliding those glasses off his face, admiring how pretty he looked all tipsy and breathless underneath you, watching all those cocky retorts disappear under your fingers.

It’s hard to get over someone you’ll never stop seeing, and you’ve got a better chance of being fired than retiring early. Besides, if you love your job, you’ll suffer through anything to keep it, right? Even if that means forcing smiles at his open face.

With no one to console you, a locked door and curtains dressing the windows, you let the tears flow freely, wishing that the water only a few inches away would somehow absorb the tears, make you seem stronger than you really are. Somber music tinkles away to an end in the background, leaving you in obsolete silence that seems to swallow you whole.

A tap on the glass. Suspended motionless just beyond the barrier, electric blue undertones of his skin mesmerizing, highlighting elegant fins and swirling markings. Deep azure pools that lock onto yours, hair framing his face like a snapshot in time.

"Holy shit, shit, shit!" you blurt out loud before you can help it. Your pulse races to life, drinking in every feature you can, drawing an image that will never be up to scale; whoever can put his flowing, inky locks to delicate fins that frame his lithe, powerful frame into words should be standing in your place, because you sure can’t.

You swivel around, hyping yourself up even more at the fact that you’re the first scientist in the building to see him with your own eyes, fingers curled around your clipboard as you shuffle back.

But you’ve dotted your name and scribbled down the date only to jerk your eyes back to the empty space, as if he was never there. Only one piece of evidence remains, and even that flutters down to the depths you cannot see.

An iridescent scale.

<><><><>

Your voice is croaky from even more lack of sleep, hours of waiting by the glass in vain; the frog in your throat leaps out to greet Luis when he saunters over, leaning on his elbow that rests on the table, eyes darting from side to side to confirm what he already knows from ten minutes of absconded silence - you’re alone in the breakroom.

“Well?” he urges, eyes slicing down to check his watch. “Make it quick, mi amor. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”

My love. How ironic that he still calls you that, it must slip from his mind on days like this. “Isn’t today your rest day-”

“Well?” he repeats, more urgently this time. And under his persistence, you’re less sure of your theory than before.

Your teeth pierce the chapped skin of your bottom lip, cracking it open, savoring the iron tang of blood that flows freely, even though you know it’ll come back to bite you in the ass later. The sting calms you.

“Experiment 003,” you begin, digging your fingernails into your palm for a split second before forcing your wavering hand to push the files towards him. “The mermaid-”

“Merman,” he corrects quickly, before his eyes go slightly wider than before and raises his hands in defense, again, as if his open palms will stop the silent words of hurt that batter his skin from your eyes.

“Merman,” you repeat, continuing, “isn’t really a merman.”

“What?” Luis’ eyebrows fly up and he claws at the folder, flipping through the papers before staring back up at you in disbelief. “You have no evidence to support this!”

“But I saw him,” you insist, admitting what you had told yourself you weren’t going to reveal to him. How is it that his face still gets your tongue tied in your mouth, coaxing secrets without him even knowing? “And… it displays none of the traits found in the fisherman’s tales.”

“They’re all old men,” he says dismissively, and his nonchalance, once again, only serves to irk you and fuel your need to prove him wrong. “So what if they couldn’t see right?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he says with a tone of finality, and it doesn’t occur to you to speak back this time. The point’s been lost in your first plea, and the honey bees descend from his tongue to spike you everywhere, scorn you for trying to doubt him. “Just get back to work, and don’t bother me anymore, señorita. I have work to do.”

You’ve never been dismissed by him before, so when he sinks into his hands, rubbing circles into your eyes, you don’t move a muscle, wondering if there will be any further instruction.

But he lifts his chin, so slowly that his gaze sears everywhere that it touches until that flame gets put out by the bucket of boiling water bubbling to life in his eyes. That dull demeanor lying over irritation lies bare on his face, soaking through like wet newspaper, ink unintelligible but meaning clear.

Get out.

<><><><>

It’s hard to find something more consistent than the steady lapping of water, kissing the top of the glass where it connects with your ceiling. You stare into the abyss, willing the creature to appear from its depths, but where the flowing water meets your demands, the being does not.

Your thoughts begin to wander. How exactly had you called it— no, him?

“The subject is male,” you hear Luis’ voice ring in your ear, as if a ghost of a person still standing with you, a shadow of what you hoped could be true. That day, there was no sound in the room except for the steady current of your tears washing your cheeks for the umpteenth time that week.

It’s probably not that. After all, it would take a creature with keen ears and a sharper mind to hear not only through the glass, but to recognize the pain that even the person who causes it cannot identify. But you’re desperate.

So you conjure up the strongest memory you have, one that surpasses all levels of guilt and anger and pain to the highest level of sorrow you’ve ever felt. The night your mother died.

Your eyes stay glued to the simple white cloth adorning her body, cupping her gently like the beings from above have descended to hold her in their heavenly hands, the idea that if you keep your gaze away from her, she’ll long for it once more and return to you.

But as much as you know she loves you, she remains still. And when you drag your reluctant eyes to grace her pale, limp hands, rubbing some warmth into her spindly fingers, fingers that fed you and dressed you. Arms that hugged you when you finished elementary school, kept your grades up with a raise that was never a promise, only an empty threat.

And the eyes that sparkled like yours, now dead. How similar you look to her, even now, hollow cheeks and irises that lose their cheer, wilting flowers like your dress that billows in the wind as you stand with your feet in the sea, grounding yourself against the waves that threaten to pull you away.

Why couldn’t you stay? Why did she abandon you in a cruel, motherless world that you know is common yet feels like a situation that will only ever apply to your pitiful self? Why does nothing last, if only for a fleeting moment in which you light her pyre and watch the flames engulf her until she’s nothing but a pile of ashes.

Before the wind can steal her away with its greedy fingers, you sweep her into a vase.

And that vase will stay in the second wooden shelf, the sturdiest one right above your desk, two inches away from the ledge, pressed against the chipped paint of your wall. You will never let her go. She will always be with you; in one way or another.

You’ll make sure of that.

Guilt isn’t the right word. There is no word to describe the torrents of how disgusted you are at yourself, and if there is, there shouldn’t be. You’ve confined your mother to these lands instead of accepting the peace she deserves.

And suddenly, observing the creature doesn’t seem as important as before. There are more pressing issues at hand, issues that might have something to do with your current lack of luck, as of late.

What you miss as you scamper around the room is the eyes that watch you from the darkness, sharp enough to crackle fire that would burn this whole place to the ground if he wished, but he waits.

In silence as you hastily grab your bag from the coat rack, abandoning your jacket. He knows you’ll be back from this one action and relaxes his tense body.

As long as you come back.

<><><><>

Aquamarine darkness envelops the far side of the room, if the building you’re in even resembles a room. It must end somewhere, especially since the peacock lights flash back in a rhythmic pattern, always circling back to where you’re planted.

Rooted to the peaty soil that squelches around your rain boots that were required before stepping into… wherever your current location was. Of course, the admin team is never happy with what they have, and apparently one subject to prod and poke wasn’t enough.

So you’re sent in here, to gain more information, the rookie’s always the guinea pig for anything, right? To find the rest of them, if there are any. You’re doubting this idea as a whole theory itself, because what if he’s one of a kind? Special.

But that something gets closer and closer to you. Your eyes have become accustomed to the darkness, adapting to the shapes that spark your vivid imagination, the murky water swirling everywhere the inky mass touches.

Eight feet and four inches is intimidating enough to scan behind the safety of your reinforced glass walls, bulletproof and all, and you’re not reassured by the idea that although you shouldn’t be scared, you are.

Only once have you seen him through the water, and that was enough to spark your interest. The flame of curiosity burns falsely in your stomach, washed out by the waves of fear. You feel like nothing but a small fish at his intense gaze, a gaze that frightens you, and it must show on your expression.

Within a matter of seconds he backs away, perhaps sensing your discomfort, and you realize that your initial hypothesis must’ve been correct; he can feel others' emotions. You wonder how this works for a creature that cannot communicate, at least not with you.

Something flashes through his eyes, storm clouds and thunder alike, and a low hiss pushes its way through his canine teeth, an attribute you hadn’t noticed until the sound hits your ears.

It is strange, the look on his face, with his hair moist and clinging to his neck as he bobs further away, weaving between the speckles of moss that float from your little island to him, gifts or warnings, you don’t know.

He takes them as warnings, it seems, with his tense, hostile expression that seems to appear from thin air, staring at you tersely, somewhat like a dolphin or a seal at the aquarium before dipping back into the water without a sound, silence filling the area where he was.

And although you’re perfectly aware that your fear has not yet subsided from crashing against your lungs, you admit to yourself that now that he’s gone, you miss the thrill.

Who would’ve thought you’d become so daring, hm?

<><><><>

But wait, it gets worse. You had assumed this was a one time thing, a test run with a temporary guinea pig that happened to be the rookie of the lab, and although you weren’t too happy with the arrangement, you were perfectly content with the idea of admiring him from a distance, especially after such a close encounter.

Yet no one gives you a heads up or a warning before you’re shoved into the same room again, fear licking at your spine as those flashing lights proceed further through the water. And after a while, the initial horror bypasses your system and you grow used to the thick silence hanging in the air, mingling with the musty scent of swamp water.

You don’t know what they’ve fed him this week. Maybe they forgot to clean his tank. Whoever’s in charge of his wellbeing obviously fucked up the one time you take a break to visit friends touring the city, because when you return, rested and fresh, ready to succeed, something’s wrong

You’ve never noticed it before, but there are scales scattered on his neck, a light blue color, tile shaped as if a button longing to be pressed. Those are the northern lights transferred from the sky to the sea, plastered onto him, hanging loosely so his gills can pulse. Open, shut, as you inhale sharply and exhale swiftly.

They light up in assortments of azure, carribean shades of the murky water, yet so much more vibrant. And as if the thrill wasn’t enough to make its fingers around your neck and restrict your breath, holding your silence as if the air would scare him away, he starts to sing.

Vertigo overwhelms your senses the moment his euphonic voice escapes from those lips, marinated on his tongue, deep and resonant. A dizzying feeling that causes you to stumble to your knees, red dots sparkling all along your vision.

And through the haze, you swear you can see him smirk, the corner of his lip twisting upward, as if this was the intended effect, like you’re supposed to feel as if you’re about to throw up and dance and cry and jump for joy, all at once.

Guess what else you were right about?

He’s no merman.

You forget the word, the term to describe the hooks cast into the sea to lure unsuspecting victims, hooks that are merely sweet, velvety tones that are all hollow truths, a desire to be craved and a hunger that can never be satiated.

A warning to be reckoned, to be heard, to be feared.

A siren.

<><><><>

“What the actual fuck?” You restrain your voice to keep yourself from screeching, which you know you would do if you were alone, which you never truly are with the walls that hear everything, along with throwing yourself at him and wrestling him to the floor.

“You said it yourself, he’s a siren! And you could’ve just died!” Luis’ hands are twisted his hair, madly clutching at their roots, and his concern for you is so profoundly surprising it sparks a laugh from you.

“I was fine, thanks,” you snap back, drumming your fingers on the table as you stare directly at his face, a face that seems crazy to love now. So many times you wonder what could’ve been, and now you’re wasting time sitting here with this fool.

“You. Could’ve. Died.” Luis accentuates each word with the ending sound as a growl, as if his voice will instill some sense of security in you, but you find yourself getting burning as he continues, “How could you even think about doing something so stupid?”

“Me?” Your voice has found a perch high in your vocal range, and it won’t come down. “Whose idea was this in the first place?” You scan his face for any hint of remorse, but there is none, and nothing in his expression offers an answer.

“Mi amor-”

“Stop fucking calling me that! You don’t get to say that like- like we still have something! Do you even know what love is?” Luis’ eyes go stony, a boulder pushed up the wrong side of the hill, and you’re not strong enough to keep it up.

And it all comes crashing down.

“Love?” A dry chuckle erupts from his mouth, expression conforming to both disbelief and pity, both uncalled for and unwanted. “Excuse me? Of course I know what love is, but it’s a little hard to love someone that’s constantly putting themselves in danger!”

His accent is sinking further and further into his words with his newfound irritation, irritation aimed at you for no apparent reason. Maybe something’s going on at home, but does that give him the authority to take it out on you? Hell no.

You stand, far too loudly, and everyone watches you get ready to make your exit without another word, because what are you meant to say to something like that? Are you so unrecognizable, within less than half a year? How easy is it to leave your old self behind?

The one that clung to him. Is that his problem?

You brush past his chair on the way out, and out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you watch him twist the band on his finger, flicking his fingers back and forth, an absent habit he’s had since your sorority years.

But before you can pass him completely, he glances behind him and rolls his chair back, maneuvering it to avoid your feet. You’re about to tell him to fuck off when he draws his eyes back up, lingering on your lips, and you know what he’s thinking.

“Wait,” he says quietly, voice soft and barely audible, but he’s stopped rolling his chair back to tilt his head up towards you.

“What?” you snap, at first unknowingly but strangely reveling in the way he flinches at your harshness, flitting back to the day he had dismissed your concerns so flagrantly. You justify your actions by determining that he deserves it. His eyes darken again as a frown puckers his lips and the space between his eyebrows.

“Don’t… just… don’t leave, please…” he stutters, his usual confidence nowhere to be found, struggling with the words before speaking again. “Can we… talk?”

“No, because there’s nothing to talk about. Besides, I have work to do.”

He lets out a small sigh at your response, to the reference of that event, irritation fluctuating in his tone. “Work? You’ve been working for four months, and you’ve found absolutely nothing.” And so the truth slips out, whether branching from his will or against it. This is how he really feels, huh?

"You don't get to tell me that." you mutter. "I'm the one documenting him, not you. You sit in your little room behind the glass, perfectly safe, and not once have you thought about swapping our roles. You don't love me, and I honestly have no idea why you even bother to lie to me about it."

Luis grits his teeth, his irritation and anger clear in his eyes, those eyes that were once pools of admiration sinking into the depths of everything you thought was between you. "What are you talking about? That's not true, I... of course I love you!" Then he rises from his chair, taking a step towards you, as if you’d allowed that.

You step back, pressing against the door. Your fingers creep behind your back to the handle and his eyes flicker to them, to the hand that’s grasping it so tightly it goes whiter than his face as he retreats to the table, pale with horror.

“I wouldn’t… ever hurt you,” he murmurs.

“Then why did you marry her?” you ask, voice soft. It’s a question you’ve been tossing in your mind, a simple game of catch that started grabbing rules from all sorts of games, pickleball and why he chose her, badminton and how you could’ve done better, volleyball in the victory in which his wife revels, and in which you wallow, losing yet another thing you loved.

“Because you said it was temporary!” he grumbles, sliding his teeth over his bottom lip, refusing to make the very same eye contact he was practically begging for an hour ago, in this very meeting room where you would stare at your department head as she provided strict instructions, catching Luis’ fleeting glances at your side profile.

“Isn’t that all we ever were?” you whisper. “Temporary?”

The air shatters between you. Finally, the unspoken truth that you both have carried for so long in your hearts is out, and it feels like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders. You can see it in his expression, however horrified, there’s some form of acceptance. He’s known this for as long as you have.

“What… happened to you? To us?” he asks quietly, looking at you like you’re a stranger, fractured parts of you discarded behind you like a broken mirror, one and the same but reflecting another person.

The door clicks open, squeaking as it swings to show you away, to the exit, finally leaving behind what you thought you could never let go of. But you pause before you leave, entertaining his question. When you have your answer, you don’t hesitate to deliver it.

“Sometimes you lose people. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

<><><><>

As the rerun comes through, cracked on the cheap speaker, fading quickly, you waltz around your room, feeling serene enough in the moment, losing yourself to the melody. How many hours have you wasted soaring through the skies in your office, only to plummet back down like a shot bird when you acknowledge the stack of papers spawning on your desk?

But when the hard day’s stresses melt away to the sway of your hips and your however offkey voice, no one is there to judge you. Luis isn’t chastising you about anything, and it’s good enough for you.

When the chorus swells, you open your mouth and belt out the lyrics, hoping the grainy walls can contain your voice, but the volume seems obnoxious, even for you. That’s when you notice the shadow on the floor towering over you, and you spin around.

Your eyes are glued to his mouth, to the words that are achingly pure and smooth, somehow heard through the glass. Illuminated by the tank lights, ethereal tones blending perfectly with the recording, enhancing it in a way you’d never heard.

Raw emotion, the longing in his voice, however foreign to you, the curve of his accent, words you’ve never heard. All so new to you, chills racing down your spine, tickling at your back.

And when the song crests, his unearthly high notes soar with a beauty strong enough to bring tears, tears that you have to hold back in case someone were to walk in. When he seals his mouth with a smile—a private, intimate thing that feels like it belongs to you, you’re sufficiently spellbound, the world ceasing to exist.

His eyes flash in the water, flitting behind you, to the rattling of your door, and only after you’ve twisted over your shoulder to verify there’s no one there does he choose to make his exit. You see the corner of his tail flick, you hope in temporary goodbye, before you close your eyes and replay his voice in your head.

Over, and over, and over again, until all you can think about is him. How wonderful would it be if he was real, hm? You see him as an illusion now, you suppose, because how do you ever know something is truly real before you can feel it under your fingertips?

And when the voice is gone, fading from your mind into the echoes of your room, vibrations clamoring to bury the sweet sound that you long for now that it’s not with you anymore, you realize there is something you’ve been doing wrong.

Something that you must fix right away. Someone you’ve kept for far too long, yet another person you’ve lost and tried to bring back.

Your mother.

<><><><>

The ocean is trying to draw you in again, rhythmic waves pooling at your feet, urging you to come sleep in its embrace, take an everlasting nap to the lullaby of the water. But you’re not so easily fooled. You remember all you’ve lost, all you’ve regained, and how you’ve been forced to let everything go.

Not for your gain, but for theirs. You suppose scientific curiosity was not what you were chasing this entire time. Your resignation letters were turned in promptly, along with an anonymous report to the people you knew you could trust to shut down what is undoubtedly an illegal operation.

Will Luis be caught in the crossfire? You’re sure of it, and although you’ll never stop caring for the man you first loved, only shreds of compassion remind, and even those shreds are not enough to bail him out.

You are far more concerned for the experiment, hope that he survives. If there’s anything you’ve learned during your time at the laboratory, it’s that no matter what branch of government, no one is merciful to anything different.

So you call upon all the gods watching, if there are any, and pray to them for forgiveness. Plead to them for mercy, and spin the lid off the vase that you’ve seen so many times, staring at it absentmindedly while studying, unable to understand a concept without your mother to explain it.

But like with all things and people, you’ve learned to live without her. And you’ve kept her spirit with you for far too long, haunting you in dreams, dreams she shouts your name in, screaming for peace.

You break those shackles with a gentle toss, keeping the vase cradled in your arms as the ashes pour out into the water. Taking a step back to avoid any sticking with you, you dig your feet back into the dry sand, watching the dark particles disappear into the clear water.

She is free. Your mother is finally free.

A high pitched call returns your initial sob, and you swipe at your face, bleary eyed and trying to get a good look at what it could’ve been. The assumption it could be a dolphin has you reaching behind you for your bag, shuffling through its contents, pictures of you and your mother. You will not abandon those, for memories are precious, you know this well.

But when you bring your eyes back to the sea, you see a humanoid figure in the distance, raising their hand in greeting to you. Tawny hair that reflects the descending sun, a simple white shirt, gloriously unbuttoned, and khaki beige shorts.

You do not recognize him, and so out of fear, you retreat further and further into your backyard, all thoughts of admiring the sunset gone, as the man approaches. You reach for your stuff as you stumble backwards, never taking your eyes off of him and this plays in your favor.

Everything about him is so different, so foreign to you, and when he speaks, his voice is raspy, and you feel like a tourist all over again, in a city where you don’t belong. You don’t deserve this, to be standing here.

You lost him, right? But you could never mistake those eyes.

And now he’s human. There are no scales, no gills, no affront to his identity, one and the same as you, and yet he feels so different. You recognize his eyes, they haven’t changed from their cerulean blue, orbs crafted from the sea itself, forged by Poseidon’s hand, a statue in the hands of the gods, but so much is missing.

The raven feathers of his hair that would’ve looked stunning in the night, now out of place and far too vibrant against the mellow shades slowly darkening, becoming more somber.

Twinkling lights strung in the space where the muscle stretches as he twists behind him, as if checking the sea, now gone dim and dissolved into the pale, unsullied skin of his neck.

You suppose you should be happy his voice hasn’t changed. With just one word, he lulls you back to him, and you can’t remember thinking of the differences between the experiment you had so vigorously studied and the man standing in front of you, not to be studied, but to be loved.

“Hi.” He reaches up, ruffles the back of his head, as if that will rattle out all the words spinning around in his mind, mirroring your own turmoiled thoughts.

“Hi.” You mimic his actions, running sharp nails against the side of your scalp, failing to push stray strands away from your face. Through your hair, you peer at him, the sun long gone behind him, and parts of him are hidden again, like you’re hiding pieces of him from your conscious mind, fearing losing him again.

Most mystifying of all was how right it feels to have him standing right in front of you, finally equal, aside from the few inches that he has on you. Those depths of ocean blue lingering in his eyes grounds you, realizing how many times you’ve looked into those same eyes, wondering exactly what he’s thinking of.

Now you can know. And you’re not about to pass up the opportunity and let fear engulf you like you’ve let it usurp your mind so many times before.

"It's still you in there, isn't it?" you ask softly.

He smiles, and your heart skips at the familiar gesture, a smile you’ve unsurprisingly missed. "It is. I wanted to see you again."

"But how? How’d you… do this? And why come back?" You step closer, drinking in each subtle nuance of his new appearance. It’s appropriate for him, nothing too flashy, blending into the background. Aside from that halo of blond hair pressed to his forehead, slick with salt water.

“You freed me,” he says quietly, eyes searching your body, as if he’s trying to ingrain an image of you into his head. You did the same, not too long ago. But there was a need for it then, and no need for it now.

Reaching out tentatively, you trace the contour of his neck, half expecting to feel residual traces of his missing bioluminescence. Only warm skin meets your fingers, and a low sigh from his lips, and now that he’s here, under your touch, you know that he’s real. Not just for your sanity, but in reality, as well.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say, just to clarify, because you assume the last thing you need is to owe a mythical sea creature. “We’ll call it even since you didn’t eat me.” He barks a soft laugh, a seal-like sound, before lacing your fingers with his onto his cheek, pressing your hand further into his skin.

"I changed so I could be with you without barriers. So we could truly understand one another." He gazes meaningfully into your eyes. "If you'll have me."

“I don’t even know your name,” you say, breathless, because haven’t you expected all of your loved ones to come back to you just like this, before inevitably accepting it’ll never happen? And now it is.

“My name?” That goddamn smirk, whether he is able to communicate or not, whether he’s human or not, tells you all you need to.

“Hm?”

“Leon.”

“Leon,” you test out, rolling the name on your tongue, causing him to scrunch up his nose.

“What? You do not like it?”

“No, no,” you say, with a chuckle. “It suits you.”

His expression relaxes, frown vanishing as he pulls you closer, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder as he takes your other hand. A familiar tune thrums through your ear, reaching your brain at supersonic speeds, cruising into your blood. The first song he ever sang for you, and now both the memory and his voice seem so far away compared to this moment.

A single moment. Suspended in time, lovers finally reunited, pair after pair failing like incorrect puzzle pieces until now, you’ve found the one.

And this time, you’re never letting go.

<><><><>

The stars arrange themselves in Leon’s eyes, constellations spelling out a story as you gaze down at him wholeheartedly, loving him with all your spirit and throwing caution to the wind.

His gaze flickers from time to time, like if he truly blinks, you’ll be gone with the night breeze, a stray leaf on the sand, misplaced.

“Did you like being a siren?” Leon’s eyes squeeze shut, head shifting on where it lies in your lap, hand creeping onto your knee.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” he says timidly. “But you showed me more. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore after seeing you.”

“Me?” Your laugh is soft, melodious to his ears, and it soothes a little bit of the ache that has been forming since the day you arrived at the laboratory. “How’d you even find me?”

“Your mother,” he replies, voice soft. “I sensed her, and with her came you. And somehow, my father obliged in my wishes to… abandon my colony.”

“Abandon?” You quirk an eyebrow in concern.

“I can never return,” he says, but his tone is light and airy, unconvincingly so. “But I found that I would give the sea, my family, for you, even if it’s all I’ve ever known. There is nothing left for me there.”

“But you shouldn’t have,” you whisper back. “Give up all that, for me? You could’ve just visited once in a while… I wouldn’t have minded.”

“And yet I would find myself longing for your touch, even on the days that all seemed well, the ocean’s beauty is but a teardrop in comparison to yours.” Ever the charmer.

“You don’t… regret it?” Leon shakes his head.

“How could I? What part of my life would I regret if I gave something up to spending even a fraction of it with you? All those days, from the sun rising to the moon rising, and you were right there, even if you weren’t under my fingers.”

“You were beautiful,” you admit. “But…”

“And I suppose all along,” he continues, “I was truly just bait for my colony. It is better that I have left them, better to leave them safe where they are happy. Where I am now happy, with you, with your beautiful face and pretty voice.”

“Pretty voice?” You flush, hoping you can mask it as an abnormal overheating technique. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Really?”

“You always look so lovely when you sing,” he muses. “Sing a song for me, please?”

You don’t know what brings you to actually do it. Is it the warmth of his hair splayed out on your thighs, or his eager expression as his eyes drag upward, flitting to your lips. You hum a tune and instantly feel at ease, perhaps you should’ve pursued a life of music.

Music. It doesn’t sound as absurd as it did throughout high school and college, when you scorned the same people who have now grown famous for their voices. You saw them as lazy, when you should’ve seen them as talented.

You hold out a note, gazing towards the sea, wondering if your mother is watching you right at this moment. You wonder if she would be content with everything you’ve done in your life, if she’s forgiven you enough to let you have this peace. The peace you once denied her.

Leon’s approval comes in a hum of his own, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hand reaches upward, trailing your cheek before he tilts his head up and you lean forward and kiss him, and the seconds rush by far too quickly before he pulls away, lips already quite red, and the corner of his mouth ticks upward, exposing the pearl white of his grin.

“Just as perfect as the last time,” he murmurs, “my starry eyed singer.”

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watermelonlovershigh · 2 years ago

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You're a Little Too Loud in Bed (SMUT)

AN: this was loosely inspired by this tiktok. i instantly thought of writing a fan fiction when i watched it. and before anyone comes at me with negative comments, i would NEVER write a story where a child sees their parents having sex. that's very traumatizing for so many. this is as far as i'd go in writing something like this. let me know if you enjoyed!!

This story contains: sex, use of vibrators, crying child, comfort, reassurance, fluffy ending

{ dadrry - dilf!harry - husbandrry - soft!harry - 3 kids (2 unnamed, 1 named Masie [May-zee] ) - harry age 35 }

word count- 1,709

Due to the pleasurable sex you had with Harry, you accidently moan too loud and your daughter down the hall wakes up and gets scared that something is wrong with her mummy.

Harry was currently fucking you from behind. You're on all fours in the center of your king size bed, Harry standing on his knees as he thrusted into you. He had one hand on your hip and the other was reaching down, holding your vibrating wand to your clit to give you added pleasure as well as pleasure for him because the vibrations were hitting his balls with each thrust.

You were trying really hard to stay quiet because your kids were asleep in their rooms down the hall. But with Harry's long, thick cock pounding into your pussy and the steady vibrations attacking your clit, you were struggling with that. Even Harry was struggling to keep his moans at bay.

See, the two of you typically have two different types of sex in your sex lives. The sex that's more slow and anguished where you're all lovey dovey with each other. It can be done in the bathtub or under the covers. Basically love making. Which you'd say you do most often just because you both genuinely love feeling close to one another on levels other than physically, like emotionally.

Then there's fucking sex. Sex that isn't really love making but isn't too kinky either. You normally do positions other than missionary and add a couple toys into the mix. What you're doing now is what you'd consider more so fucking. When you make love you can normally keep quiet and allow your moans to travel into one another's mouths from sloppily making out. But with sex in doggy position with a vibrator in use, it's so much hader.

When you feel yourself getting close, you shove your head into your pillow to try and conceal the moans that you know you won't be able to hold in any longer when you climax. Harry doesn't even need to ask if you're close because he can feel you becoming wetter and your walls are starting to seize up around his shaft.

Harry leans over your back and heaves in a seductive voice, "Come on, let go for me. Let go, baby." He was struggling to hold off on his own orgasm because you just felt so good. And he wasn't twenty-five any more. He's thirty-five. Fucking you in doggy really wears him out.

"I'm, Oh God," you start to speak but are cut off when Harry begins moving the wand from side to side over your clitoris to speed up the process, "I'm coming. Holy shit!" Your back arches upwards and your hands grip the bed sheets beneath you so hard you feel as if you might just rip a hole in the fabric. Your vaginal walls squeeze Harry so tightly that he begins to come as well.

Once you start to come down from your orgasms, Harry turns the vibrating wand off and tosses it across the bed. His hips stop their thrusting and slowly he becomes soft within you. You're both breathing heavy and have a thin layer of sweat coating your naked skin. Your knees give out which leads to you laying flush to the mattress. And well, with Harry still inside of your cunt, he comes crumbling down with you.

He carefully falls on your back so he doesn't hurt you and for a minute you lay together in silence, soaking up each others comfort and love. That is until you hear a wailing cry coming from down the hallway. "Fuck," Harry grumbles, not wanting to separate from your body but knowing he has to check on his child, "I'll go see what's the matter, alright. You stay put." He really hoped whoever was crying hadn't been sick because he really doesn't want to deal with puke right now. But he would if he had to.

With a kiss to the back of your sweaty neck, Harry slips out of you and begins to shuffle off the bed and towards his dresser to find himself some briefs and shorts to put on. You turn around and get under the duvet to cover yourself up at least a little bit. After Harry is dressed enough, he flings your bedroom door open and quickly travels down the hall to where the cries are coming from.

He comes to realize they are coming from your daughter Masie's room, who's five years old. Harry opens her door and coos gently while walking towards her little bed, "Hey loves, what's the matter? Why'r you crying, baby?"

Masie looks at her father and makes grbby hands, wanting him to pick her up. She's a bit too heavy to lift like this but Harry will do anything for his children. Once she's in her daddy's arms, she cries with her little arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder, "I..... I heard mummy screaming. Is she, is she okay?"

Harry has never felt more embarrassed yet proud in his entire life as he does right now. Embarrassed that his daughter heard you screaming during sex. Well it was more so loud moaning that you tried to conceal best as possible, but to a five year old, screaming is the best word she can describe it as. And proud he can still make you scream during sex.

Rubbing a palm up and down her small back, Harry coos, "Shhh, she's perfectly fine, lovie. Mummy wasn't screaming in a bad way. It was happy screams."

As Masie's cries slowly stop, she demands softly, "Wanna see mummy, please."

"Okay, okay, but she'll come in here, alright. Here, sit on your bed and I'll bring her in here so she can tell you she's fine." Harry tells his daughter while carefully setting her back down in her bed. He would have brought her to you but he knows you're not decent at the moment, still chilling naked under the covers.

Masie mutters out a quiet, "M'kay." and waits for her mummy to come see her. Harry quickly goes back into your shared bedroom with embarrassment on his face. You look at your husband as he enters and question worriedly, "Is my baby, okay? What was wrong?"

He goes over to your dresser to pick you out some clothes and answers, "Maise heard you screaming. She thought something was wrong with you and was just worried. Now she wants you to come see her. Here, let me help you get dressed." Harry helps you slip over your t-shirt, not bothering with a bra around the house, and pair of panties and shorts.

Right before you make your way to your daughters room, Harry whispers, "Guess m'gonna have to hold your mouth shut next time."

You turn around with a cheeky glare and retort, "Hey, it's not my fault you fucked me so well. Can barely walk and my clit is still throbbing uncomfortably."

Hand in hand you enter Masie's bedroom and she's just where Harry had left her. When she sees you her bottom lip quivers and she begins to cry again, probably from relief her mummy was okay. No matter how good of a fuck you just had, your daughter's well being is your number one priority and it kills you that she was this worried about you. Thank god you have a rule in this house to always knock on your door so she didn't walk in on the act. That would have traumatized everyone.

"Hey, my darling, mummy's alright. See, I'm okay." you say in a comforting voice as you lean down to wrap her in a hug.

With her face buried in your neck, she asks, "You screamed happy screams?" You snatch you head around to give Harry who's standing in the doorway a death stare. How dare he, but also how else are you supposed to explain to a five year old that what she heard was moans from her parents being intimate. I mean it's totally normal and healthy for couples to have sex but she's way too young to know that right now.

"Yes Masie, mummy was screaming because she was really happy. You know your daddy makes mummy real happy sometimes. Just like when something is really funny and you laugh loudly, well that's kinda like what mummy done, okay."

She nods and questions, "Can I sleep with you tonight, please?" She doesn't really get to sleep in bed with you and Harry unless she's sick, but on special occasions you'll let her, or any of your kids for that matter.

Hugging her to you tightly and lifting her off the bed, you answer, "Yeah, I guess for tonight it won't hurt. Harry, go um, fresh," you try and tell him without saying it out loud, pointing at Masie's covers, "change them." you mouth the last part. Realization comes across Harry's face and he gives you a thumbs up before scurrying off to change your bed sheets.

Though you did lay a towel down during the sex, just something about your daughter sleeping in the same sheets and duvet you fucked on feels wrong. To give him a minute to change the bedding on your bed, you carry Masie into the hall bathroom and help her use the toilet before she sleeps again. Of course she's potty trained but still needs help wiping sometimes.

Five minutes later you walk back into your bedroom to see Harry just now finishing changing the bedding. He turns around and speaks, "There's my girls. Come on, get under the covers and lets give each other cuddles." Your family is very physically affectionate people. You all love hugs and cuddling one another.

You set your daughter Masie in the center of the bed and both you and Harry slip in the duvet beside her. Once Harry turns the lamp off, you both sink down under the fresh covers more and slide over until she's right in between the two of you. You each lean down and place a kiss to her tiny cheeks before settling in the warmth of each other for sleep.

Right as you and Harry start to drift off from exhaustion, you hear a small, "Love you." coming from your daughters mouth. Harry and you both reply back with, "We love you, too." and then sleep finally takes over.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry // @mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @theroosterswife24 // @justlemmeholdyou // @stylesmygucci // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #smut #angst #dadrry #dad!harry #dilfrry #dilf!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry x reader #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles comfort

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take-everything-you-can · 1 year ago

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Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N: This Fandom has given me the most inspiration I've had in years and this is a thank you to every single one of you. This idea spurred from one too many drinks and unhinged DMs and I'm so excited to share it with you guys. So here goes nothing lol. A special thanks to my lady loves @lesservillain , @ghost-proofbaby , @bettyfrommars , and @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading and letting me fill your inboxes with all my little thots for our little gremlin man !

P.S : BEFORE I GET INTO ANYTHING THIS STORY IS 18+ MINORS NEED TO GTFO PLEASE AND THANK YOU !!!!! Also please remember to like and reblog from your creators It keeps the fandom alive !!! ( honestly don't know what I would do without ya'll )

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader ( Pumpkin )

Summary: A 1950's daydream of malt shop kisses and doo wop singles far behind closed doors. Dreamboat Eddie Munson picks up more than just an extra route. A love that makes you weak in the knees... but how long can you go on loving a man that isn't the one your married to.

TW: Angst- mentions of an affair (adultery), verbal abuse mentions, mentions of weight ( mentions of food within the story throughout), disordered eating, feeling unloved, self deprecation slightly, staying with toxic partner Fluff- pet names, domestic bliss, mutual pining Smut- fingering, soft touches, overstimulation slightly very slight, unprotected PIV, cream pie, spanking,..... tbh i can't think of anymore but if you see any please let me know ... Thank you all so much. ( every chapter will get updated tw)

WC: 4.1K

Flour covers the countertop in your kitchen, and a rolling pin is set to the side while you knead the soft pastry ingredients together. Apples sit freshly peeled in a separate dish. Sliced and added to sugar and cinnamon. Picking up the rolling pin, you do your best to flatten the dough to a thin sheet and mold it to the glass dish before you.

“Well, this dough is much better than the first,” you say aloud to yourself. Your husband once told you that speaking out loud to yourself was a sign of a weak mind, you never put much stock in that. But here you were doing exactly that as your days consist of waiting for your husband to return home from work.

You splash a bit of vanilla into the apple mixture to complete your pie filling. Once it is all tucked neatly beneath the fluffy dough, you take a knife and leave four little holes within the surface and crimp the edges together, sealing the flavors within. A touch of sugar is added to the top along with an egg wash before placing the pie on a rack in the oven. A timer is set for twenty minutes, a reminder to lower the temperature and to add your special ingredient.

Soft music plays throughout the house, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald keep you company on these long lonely days. Lonely but only for such a short time. Your husband works for the state doing something he thinks you're too dumb to understand so why talk about it? If anyone ever asks you simply say ‘Oh please you think a woman wants to know such things’. That usually earns you a laugh at cocktail parties and a warm smile from your man. If you could even call him that.

Yes, he is your man in the sense that your last names are the same and you had shared the same bed. Where is the love though? It isn’t tangible and hasn’t been for quite some time now. Your day begins and ends with a few words apart from an I love you. You served him still, acted to the prying eyes, as a doting Wife. Four years and Everyone still thought you had a perfect life.

That dream of white picket fences and shared milkshakes. That love of never-ending kisses and satisfying sex. Everyone around you wanted all that you had. Would they still want your life if they could see past those closed doors and shut curtains?

Would they want to spend their mornings hiding the bags under their eyes from nights of restless sleep? Would they want to have a constant monologue of the flaws seen in the mirror? Ones that your oh-so-loving husband pointed out to you time and time again. Would they want to cook and clean knowing they would never receive a thank you? No, you knew they wouldn’t. All the small things that build and grow until it becomes a monotonous routine. Walking through days as if the next would be the exact same and then doing it all again and again, Until one day something changed.

Two months prior A knock on the door, one that started to come once a week. The company of CC & Drums Dairy was paid to bring you a gallon of milk, A necessity your husband called it. A man with long dark locks that flowed over his shoulder and curls that dipped across his forehead under his cap. Deep Brown eyes that sparkled with flecks of amber as the sun hit him just right. Dressed in white overalls to comply with his company uniform and sleek black shoes that shine just as brightly as his smile. His name tag reads Eddie in a sweet embroidered cursive. Eddie, a name that would soon become something you would never forget.

Your timer goes off as you check the pie, squeezing a lemon over the crust for that citrus tang. Slipping the dessert back into the oven, for another half hour or so, a knock sounds through the house, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy. Eddie had arrived.

A quick task of undoing the strings to your apron and a fast fix of hair in the mirror you had hung in the hall. A hand to your abdomen as you intake a breath and let it stagger out between your lips, hesitating to open the door. The second you see him you can feel the way the tops of your cheeks heat and plump with a smile. One that matches his.

You take a second and wonder if he knows how handsome he is. The way the small lines beside his eyes crinkle with years of use. You wonder if he knows that the instant you see him, your heart stops beating. But most of all you wonder if you're the only one those soft eyes and long lashes catch in his gaze.

“Afternoon darling, I must say this heat wave has got to be breaking records. Ought not keep these out here too long.” as he lifts the small crate of glass bottles holding the product out.

You knew better than to take it from him, even if every bone in your body screamed too. The last time you tried you nearly flipped the whole crate, underestimating the weight. From that day on you always stood to the side as you let Eddie into your home to set the dairy in your kitchen. It was another thing you wondered about him. Did he do this for everyone else too?

“ Well let's not keep them then sir.” standing to the side he slides past you brushing a hand across the elbow you held to the door. His way of saying hello. Small touches here and there as he could never keep his hands to himself for too long in your presence.

“ Something smells awful delicious in her ma’am.”

“An Apple pie is in the oven, maybe you’ll stay and have a slice. For your troubles of course.”

“Mhmm, my troubles.” Eddie sat the crate on the counter next to the ice box and turned his body towards you and enveloped you in his stronghold. An intoxicating embrace as he pulled you flush to his body.

“ I missed you, you know that pretty girl?” soft tone, almost a whisper. A small smile he couldn't see but could feel made its way to your face.

“I bet you say that to all the girls on your route.” he lets out a small chuckle.

“Only the breathtaking ones.” a falter to your features as your mind reeled with all the possibilities.

Does he miss Mrs.Cunningham the way he misses you? Does he miss Ms.Buckley the same? That sick green monster finds its way under your skin as you think of all the girls he must have at his beck and call. But today that monster wasn’t going to ruin the few fleeting moments you could spend with him. You needed Eddie in the most carnal of ways.

“Do you want to know what I missed? “ Your fingers trail their way from the small of his back and up over his shoulder, landing on his neck just below his ear. Cupping his face you bring it down and catch his lips as they meet yours.

“Oh yeah? you missed me too Pumpkin?” a second crash of your lips to his, makes him hum from the back of his throat. His nose nudges yours to the left so his teeth can catch your bottom lip, pulling back slightly to hear the small whine you emit.

“I always miss you, Eddie.” His hands travel down over your figure as he starts to ruffle the hem of your dress up. Thankful for its length to hide how wet you had become just from him being in the home you share with your spouse. A topic you and Eddie tried to steer clear of, but the wrongness of the act just felt so right.

Over a year your husband hadn’t touched you, barely talked to you and some days you were even sure he hadn't even looked in your direction. Eddie though, In the last two months, Eddie had made you feel seen. He made you feel heard, and most of all he made you feel desired.

As his hand finds the thin cotton that covers your cunt he glides his digits over the wet patch that had grown by just the thought of him. A deep hum and a small huff of breath from Eddie against your neck as he kissed his way to your shoulder.

“So wet for me and I've barely even touched you. Are you that starved for affection?” The words forming in that sweet small surrender to him were all but cut off as he slid a finger through your folds and teased your entrance. A gasp was the response he got, one he loved to hear in protest every time he had you.

“C’mon honey tell me what you want.” how could you respond to him with words if you couldn't even think of them? The man before you had spent the last few months discovering just how to make you melt in his arms.

He knew that the spot behind your knee was his best friend for when he had you on your back. He knew the way your hips stutter when you're close to your peak, and he knew that if your eyes found that they couldn't stay open that you were in utter bliss.

His favorite thing he had learned throughout your time together though was that even when he knew you had your doubts, you still trusted him in every sense of the word.

After only two months Eddie knew you better than you know yourself. Better than your husband had ever cared to know you.

“ Please, Eddie.” He smiled down at you

“ Please What Honey?”

“ Dip in Eddie, Fuck me please.” He could feel the slackening of your legs as his assault on your clit had made you a bit sensitive, in his focus on making you feel as good as he possibly could, in what little time he had with you. He slid two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat as his thumb stayed in a rhythm that matched his wrist as he curled in and let the sounds of his efforts echo off the small kitchen walls.

Moaning into Eddie's ear as his finger worked in and out of you making that heat inside of you grow higher and higher. Clutching the strap of his overalls, a small pull leaning back, as the pleasure he was giving you kept climbing.

“ Come on now baby, let go.” A final intake of air, hold on to the breath that led you to your walls squeezing eddies fingers tight. That coil snapped as you let your body fall slack against him a loud moan from the farthest depths within you found its way out of your lungs.

When your eyes land on Eddie after your come down all you can see is that smile. The dimple-creasing smile that kept haunting your dreams at night.

“I need more.” You didn’t know how but his smile grew even wider and more sinister as his tone began to deepen. A kiss is pressed to your lips, not urgent, understanding.

“ You need more? Well, it's a damn good thing that what you're asking for is in stock then Pumpkin.” He turned you around to face the small table that sat in your kitchen, knowing what he wanted from you. He wasn’t the only one taking notes from your time together.

You braced yourself against the worn wood and clutched the sides of it as you heard the familiar clinks of metal as his rings fumbled with the buckle of his belt.

The wait, though it is small, is brutal. Anticipation makes your stomach flip and cunt flutter. A shuffle out of his overalls gives Eddie a moment to just admire the way you listen so well. These small moments have him thanking every bad decision that got him here. To this small town, with this small job, on this small route. A route he picked up as a last resort. Yeah, he doesn't know who he's praying to but whoever is listening, he's singing grace.

A grip in the slight pudge of your hips to keep himself steady, Eddie is gentle as he slips his cock through your folds gathering your slick over his length and breaching your desire. A deep moan and a few choice words fall from Eddie as he fills you and meets the small wavering gasp you let out, a breath you didn't know you had been holding. A whine of impatience, his sign to move.

A soft speed turns ravenous as his dick uses your walls to curve his hooks into you deeper and deeper. A sigh of his name and you can feel the stutter in his thrust. He slows his pace if only to keep himself from having to leave your presence all too soon.

"Fuck darling, so good to me, taking me so well like this pussy was made for me." You mewl from beneath him, dropping your forehead to the wood that is holding you up. You fear that if it had not been here your legs would have given up the second he started talking. "Isn't that right pumpkin? Made just for me? " A sharp thrust and you know he wants an answer in the way his grip turns bruising. A trip through your mind as you try and collect the words from thin air.

"YES! God yes, I was made just for you."

"Such a good girl for me baby. That's right, isn't it? You're all mine aren't you?" Another squeeze to your hip and a smack that lands hard on your ass. Eddie's palm kneads the sting as you answer him.

" All yours, all yours, no one else, just you baby." A grunt hum from the back of his throat as he grips your shoulder and leans so his body is flush with yours. His breath is on your neck as he leans to your ear.

"Not even your husband, just you and me baby?"

"Just you and me Ed's" Your eyes tunnel and you see white as your orgasm rushes through you, Eddie's own a thrust away as he moans deep against your skin. His body weight and yours against the kitchen table as you both find your way down from the clouds.

Small kisses he leaves to your spine and the back of your neck. You turn your head and he places another small one to the upturned corner of your mouth. A bell chimes and you sit for a few seconds letting Eddie gather his own bearings. A small pat to the curve of your pussy as Eddie pulls the cotton back in place. A shock to your sensitivity.

"Keep that in there baby, that way you have a part of me while I'm gone." A heat to your cheeks as the thought of Eddie's cum dripping out of you while your husband sat across from you and read the paper over dinner. A sly smirk from the man you just let defile the small space, one you would let do ungodly things to you.

You put on oven mitts as Eddie finds a few glasses in the cabinet. You slice into the flakey crust and slip through the filling as you place the large piece on a plate for you to share. Eddie pours milk as you find some silverware, he places the bottles in your fridge so they keep.

Turning with a smile, he is the definition of adoration. In your eyes he is everything.

Why is it that when his time with you is coming to an end you almost wish it would end as soon as possible? Almost as if you would wish he would part with some harsh words to make you not want him in the most beautiful ways. You have to make yourself believe these things before he leaves because if you don’t, it would just shatter you. So you take a different route, you don’t shatter yourself, instead, you splinter and crack all the things that hold you until you see him again. The times where he glues those little shards back in place if only for you to break them off again and again. A scared thought and a small shake of your head trying to rid yourself of it. A married woman. What would he possibly want from you other than a good lay?

He sees that doubt within your mind as if reading it. He takes your hand in his as he laces your fingers together.

“ Penny for your thoughts Pumpkin?” You glance finally meeting his eyes as you clear your throat.

“ Nothing important hun.” You slide a fork to his side of the table as your eyes dart to the clock. He squeezes your hand once more, lowering his eyes in search of yours again.

“It is important if it bothers you.” Your heart stops. The breath you were going to take gets caught in your throat and you turn on that winning smile you had trained yourself to hold in uncomfortable circumstances. One you wish he couldn't see through.

“ It’s nothing Eds, really.”

“Do you promise?” you take a hand and cup his cheek.

How do you tell him that he is your first thought in the morning and the last thought before falling asleep? How instead of counting sheep you try and count the freckles on his face by sheer memory? How could you tell him you wish you were his one and only? That you have never felt about another human soul the way you feel about his. Instead, you stuff it down, apple pie soon to follow.

“I Promise.”

You know he doesn’t believe you but he would rather set out to sea and die of starvation as the sharks feed from him than to make the last moments he has with you tainted with fights and tears. God when you cry it absolutely destroys him.

The first time you had ever let him take you in his arms you had just gotten off the phone with your husband. He had heard hushed words while he waited for you to grab the weekly tip your husband left for him. Your husband had informed you that he would not be coming home, as the fight from the night before had lingered into the morning and would now follow you well into the night. The first time you had opened the door Eddie studied the angelic features of your face, and they had plagued his dreams for such a long time at this point.

When you rounded the corner with a smudge of mascara beneath your eyes, he instantly without thinking took you in, pushing your face to his chest as his hand rested on the back of your head. Slight comfort made the tears begin again as he wiped the remainder of the smudge and irritation from your face. No man had ever done something as small as comforting you before. In the two months since he had started this route, he knew he had instantly fallen head over heels in love with you.

You had taken two bites from the plate that sat in front of you and Eddie had finished the slice. He even went as far as to slide a finger in the crumbs on the plate and lick them off in an attempt to show you how much he had enjoyed it. His time with you.

A gathering of glasses you brought to the sink as he brought the other dishes and sat them in the deep well while wrapping his arms around your waist and you stood eyes closed relishing in the last little bit of affection he could offer to you.

A kiss to your shoulder as you turn your head resting it on his.

“I’ll be by in a week Pumpkin.” A nod to the fact you already knew. “ Seven days.” Another nod, not risking the crumble in your voice. “ Not long at all.” Another small kiss to your cheek as you turned into his chest and rested your forehead on his.

“Seven days?”

“ Seven days Pumpkin. Do you think you can wait for me? Just seven days? “

“I think I could wait a lifetime for you Eddie.”

“I’ll see you in a week, Mrs.Carver.”

“ A week Mr.Munson.”

A kiss to your lips and a parting gift of his very own pie before he snuck out through the back door, so as to not raise suspicion. A slow walk from the kitchen to the door and to turn a lock, on your mind. On your hope. You could do this. You could wait seven days.

Your husband comes through the door late as he had been doing for the last year or so. You had expected it from him at this point. You had started to make his dinner later and later knowing that if you had made it too early he would tell you all the ways he couldn't eat it. If it had gone too cold he would refuse and the hard work would go directly into the trash.

He walked in as you took his dinner off the stove and placed it on a dish for him.

“Right on time doll.”

“ I don’t know how on time it is, It’s Nearly eight in the evening, Jason!”

“ I’m not doing this with you tonight.”

He always did this. He would come home and you would ask him where he had been, and he’d always end the conversation before it could even begin. You sat his plate in front of him as you sat across the table from him. Times where you could really take him in and see that the feelings you had once long ago were snuffed out like a flame to a candle.

“ Are you not eating dear?”

“ I ate a bit earlier in the day.”

“Thanks for waiting .” He rolled his eyes and you returned the gesture.

“ I wouldn’t have had to wait if you had just picked up the phone and told me when you were going to be on your way home. I’m not waiting until we hit a new day to eat Jason I’m not going hungry just so you-”

“ Wouldn’t harm you any though would it.”

You left the table. Your weight had started to become a key focus as he knew it bothered you more than anything else. You had gained some weight and your mother and friends had commented on it from time to time. For your husband to tho, it made you furious. You ate when you were unhappy, it was something you had done since you were a child. The only person who thought you could stand to eat a little more had been Eddie.

It happened slowly, you would make him food now and then, and the majority of the time He would offer you a bit. It started with a bite and progressed into cutting his sandwiches in half just so you could have something to eat. Unlike your husband, Eddie had a suspicion that you weren’t eating enough. Like you weren’t giving your body what it needed to survive so he would constantly ask for you to eat with him. At least then he would know you had something of substance within your day.

You had gone to your bedroom and gotten out of your daily’s slowly separating them into their hampers waiting to hear the stomping footsteps of Jason as he made his way to the spare bedroom. He had taken residency there about a month before Eddie came into your life and you were thankful for the times that Eddie left you yearning for more. To call out another man's name while with your significant other no matter how insignificant they were would still bring you shame like no other.

Slipping into your nightgown as Jason shuts the door to his room you wait a few minutes to take the walk back down the stairs to stand in front of the sink. Looking up at the sky through the window above the stars seem to shine brightly. You attempt to find the little dipper and look for its companion not far from where it lays, the version of a larger size. Constellations begin to blur as you let the silent tears fall. Hoping that somewhere out there in this little old town, Eddie too is looking up at the moon and wishing you were by his side as you wished upon all the stars in the sky. What a long time seven days would be.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #milkman!eddie #eddie fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

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zeroaddzero · 1 year ago

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Top 10 Horniest Bruce Springsteen songs, ranked

Yes there are more horny Bruce songs. Too many horny songs for one list. I don’t know if his game was good because he knew how to write horny songs, or if his game inspired him to write horny songs. Either way, we’ve been blessed musically with a lot of horny songs. Here’s the horny songs I managed to fit into a (very biased) list:

1. I'm On Fire

THE horny Bruce song. A fever fantasy of a wet dream smushed into one moaning, sweaty mess. Before I was a fan, this (coupled with the below performance) was the song that made me go "OH. I get it now."

Spotify LINK

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire

youtube

2. Pink Cadillac

About as subtle as Lady Gaga’s “Disco Stick.” Even better paired with the BITUSA tour intro (said intro got noticeably more sexual after Bruce got married in 1985).

Spotify LINK

They say Eve tempted Adam with an apple But man I an’t goin for that I know it was her pink Cadillac

youtube

3. Fire

Originally written for Elvis, the bass line alone for this #problematic 70s “don't play coy with me” number will make you reconsider feminism for 5 minutes. The 1986 performance is downright NSFW.

Spotify LINK

You had a hold on me right from the start A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart

youtube

4. The Fever

Bruce is king of the “lying in bed thinking of how horny this person makes me” genre, and this is one of his finest examples. At almost 8 minutes, it’s the tantric equivalent to the more concentrated "I’m on Fire". Anybody noticing a “burning” theme here?

Spotify LINK

Well now the day grows longer The love just grows stronger, baby And the fever gets so bad at night I got the fever for the girl

youtube

5. Because The Night

Bruce never finished the lyrics, and this song arguably belongs to Patti Smith now. Bruce has even said as much. However, I am biased and enjoy this banger too much to let technicalities get in the way of horny. On the list it goes.

Spotify LINK

Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us

youtube

6. Red Headed Woman

I'm Going Down may seem raunchy until you realise it's about a bad breakup. For the other thing, we have this entry. Folks, this song is literally about eating pussy. Bruce even introduced it as such during his Ghost of Tom Joad tour. I’ve yet to recover from the whiplash of hearing him say the word “cunnilingus” while performing at his old Catholic high school.

Spotify LINK

Well listen up stud Your life's been wasted 'Til you've been down on your knees and tasted A red headed woman

youtube

7. She's The One

Speculated to have been written about the violinist who played on the album Born To Run, this tune shows our boy is down baaad. Best paired with the excellent "Mona" intro, which is included in the Houston '78 live performance below.

Spotify LINK

With her killer graces and her secret places That no boy can fill with her hands on her hips Oh and that smile on her lips Because she knows that it kills me

youtube

8. Part Man, Part Monkey

My Tunnel of Love tour knowledge is woefully lacking despite the tour being his most explicit, and the accompanying album being in my top 3. In the eyes of the public, Bruce was still with his first wife when this video was shot in 1988. Only the band knew he was recently separated, so imagine watching a presumably married man on stage eye-fucking his backup singer. The gossip mill must have been insane after each show.

Spotify LINK

Well the night is dark, the moon is full The flowers of romance exert their pull We talk awhile, my fingers slip I'm hard and crackling like a whip

youtube

9. Crush On You

Another genre this Jersey dude excels at is “horny to the point of funny.” Bruce himself has called it "the worst song we ever put on a record" but hey, what does he know.

Spotify LINK

For one kiss, darling I swear everything I would give 'Cause she's a walking talking reason to live

youtube

10. Cover Me

I just realised this is only one of four songs on this list included on an official Springsteen album (if you don't count the outtake compilations.) And how fitting it is to start and end this list with Paris '85 concert footage!

Spotify LINK

Now promise me baby you won't let them find us Hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us Cover me, shut the door and cover me I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

youtube

Honourable mentions (song/album):

Rosalita / The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle Candy's Room / Darkness on the Edge of Town Ramrod / The River Cindy / The River (outtakes) Ain’t got you / Tunnel of Love The Fuse / The Rising

Let me know if you think I missed any! I won't change the list, but more horny song discourse is always good.

#bruce springsteen #e street band #rock music #bruceposting #Youtube #long post

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soulgazingwithbucky · 2 years ago

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Details (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Maybe you and Bucky just weren't meant to be. Alpine (dis)respectfully disagrees.

Based on a prompt from this generator: "Y/N and Bucky break up, but they have a pet and neither of them want to give it up. Then they spend a few days each with the pet separately. But it kinda helps them get together again."

Warnings: mentions of food & alcohol

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Writing this fic taught me that the Venn diagram of romantic flowers and things toxic to cats is a circle. I wrote this listening to Trust by Brent Faiyaz radio on Spotify, so I have no choice but to share it for any other hip hop/R&B fans <3 If you find yourself enjoying this, feel free to check out my other works here <3

You were the sun up above, he was fallen snow.

You were the beauty of flower petals, he was the strength of tree roots.

You were a song belted out loud, he was comfortable silence.

It took you a while to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. But,

as they say,

good things come to those who wait.

You were big picture, he was details. You were looking too broadly; he slipped between the cracks. You crept into every corner of his brain until it was an overfilled balloon. Oh, how he had pined until you finally saw him as he saw you. It was torture, those few months before you took his hands in yours, leaning in for that first kiss that ignited every nerve in his body.

The more time you spent with him, the more certain you felt about his psychic abilities. He knew you so well, like he was reading your thoughts. Or seeing the future. Was it an effect of the serum? But he indulged you in his secret: he just paid a painful amount of attention.

When you scratched your throat, he would get you a glass of water. Always three ice cubes.

When you shifted in your seat, he would take your leg and message it, pressing firm circles into the back of your calves.

When your eyebrows scrunched and made that little crease in between, he would kiss it. When he pulled away, it was gone.

He was details.

You mused that he should reserve that expertise for saving the world. He left a flutter of kisses on your knuckles, telling each finger that he would have no better use of his skills than to keep you happy.

You were grander than life. He was sure that if you had been the one alive for a century, you would have lived each year to its fullest. He looked up to you, his idol, his inspiration.

The sound of tape unraveling broke you out of your stupor.

Loud, screeching, sudden.

A fitting call back to reality.

Bending at the knee, Bucky gingerly placed the box in front of you. You knew he could’ve lifted and dropped it with just his pinky finger; it would’ve been the equivalent of you dropping a sheet of paper.

But he was always so considerate of you. Your feelings.

Your reactions.

You.

“I think that’s the last one,” he told you. A lie. He knew it was the last one.

“Thank you,” you said, staring at the box, rotating it to find the cutout handles.

CLOTHES, he had scribbled on every side in thick sharpie, the writing comically large. He was thinking of you, in your new home, surrounded by replicas of the same brown cardboard box. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you.

It, the situation he had put you both in.

You were larger than life. But he had made you feel smaller than an atom. Like a child's once overused coat that now collected dust in the back of a dark closet.

Your name, so tender on his gruff tongue, drew you out of your thoughts.

You kept your face stony. You didn’t dare think what it had betrayed when you dove into the recesses of your mind.

“Sorry,” you spoke.

“Don’t be,” he murmured. Stay, he thought.

You stood, rummaging in your pocket. Well, his pocket. His sweatpants. You acted like you forgot they were his; he acted like he forgot, too. At least some part of him would still be with you.

A silver key emerged in your outstretched hand. His finger twitched. You noticed that.

He taught you to.

Then he reached out, closing the space between the two of you. His fingers curled over yours, ridding the key from sight.

“Keep it,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“Shared custody,” was his attempt to lighten the mood. As if on cue, Alpine rounded the corner.

you summoned, dad? she seemed to say, grazing the doorway as she made her way over.

Be strong, you had demanded earlier, pointing at yourself accusingly in the rearview mirror. Do not give in. Don’t let him see you falter.

But this beautiful, aggravating, wonderful cat was your whole world (surpassing Bucky, you made sure to tell him regularly), and you felt the tears well up. You thought you had finally run out. What an awful time to find you were wrong.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure,” he said firmly. “I-”

The syllable lingered in the air. He had to be strong, for you. It was the least he could do. He brought this on himself, and he had to see it through. He had no idea how to balance the whole hero thing and being in love thing. He had never done it before. What an awful way to find out he did everything wrong.

He would never forget the day the straw broke the camel’s back. He had told you he needed to reschedule your Saturday date, not knowing the day you had planned out. But Wakanda had requested his and Sam’s presence at a UN meeting; you both knew they seldom called in favors from him. Your lip quivered in failed restraint until you abruptly stood up, nearly toppling over the takeout containers on your lap. Everything poured out of you in that moment, loud and endless and angry. Bucky had shut down, staring straight ahead with hardened eyes until you grabbed your things and left.

He was details. He was a quick pick-me-up after a hard day at work. He was a quiet back rub during a feel-good movie. He was a gentle reminder about that one errand you could never seem to remember.

He wasn't big picture. He wasn't a step back to see the writing on the wall. He wasn't the pieces coming together. He wasn't the painful realization of you weren't happy. Not until it was too late, anyway.

“I'll walk you to your car,” he offered. He hesitated before picking up a few boxes. Don’t be stupid, James. Don’t hope for her to change her mind. “Get the door, doll? Sorry. Could you...get the door, please?”

You managed to nod, though you felt as if every bone in your body had merged into one. You opened the door and watched him walk away with your life in a few measly boxes.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, dragging in several bags of groceries. You harped on him for having a total of three items in his refrigerator, and stopped your movie night to go to the grocery store at 10pm. The clerks were not happy with you.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, gingerly holding Alpine in her carrier. He did let you hold one thing that time- Alpine’s medication. You both loved her too much to let Bucky carry anything else but her, especially after the scare she had put you both through.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, muffled over the armfuls of flowers, chocolates, and balloons. Your last Valentine’s together, though neither of you knew it would carry that title. You had laughed at the ridiculous sight of wine bottles tucked into his back pockets.

“I'm sorry,” he said after loading the last of the boxes into your car. He left enough space in the middle seat for you to still use your rearview mirror.

“Don’t,” you whispered. You had had enough of empty apologies. So do something about it. So end it if you wanted to focus on work. So ask Sam to enlist the help of literally any other superhero. Dr. Banner could get it done in, like, five seconds, you once huffed.

“But I am.”

You knew he was. And that made everything worse. The deadly Avenger with the unstoppable arm, capable of defeating Outriders and Flag Smashers. But to you, just your sweet and gentle Bucky. Your sweet, gentle Bucky, who revealed a side to you that no one else got to see. The hero of incredible strength, who held you like you were the lightest of feathers.

You knew that this was as new a world to him as it was to you. You had many a mirror pep talk reminding yourself of this. But you couldn’t help that empty feeling. You became a longing glance at other couples, kissing and hugging and laughing, while you sat in the empty booth. Another last-minute mission for your mighty hero meant another drink for you, liquid in your cup deterring the glistening in your eyes. You became a forced smile, an ongoing habit at work parties and social gatherings, dismissing everyone’s questions about why the hero wasn’t by your side. You became nostalgia, looking at old videos of Bucky on your phone, because you could count on the memories of the man more than the man himself.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you said, speaking to your car door handle. You hadn’t met each other’s eyes once this entire time. You were kind of glad. You just knew one look would leave you gasping for air, lungs suddenly rid of breath and replaced with a whirlpool of ocean blue, the gray and cobalt turning your intestines into a loop.

You didn’t stay to hear his response. You got in your car, turned on the engine, and reversed out of the parking lot.

Don’t look back

Don’t- Oh, for god’s sake. Of course you looked back.

There he was, still and staring. You knew he wouldn’t leave that spot until your car was completely out of sight. Making sure you were safe.

The next few weeks were filled with lots of ice cream, cheap wine, shitty movie nights, social media algorithms feeding you breakup posts, loud bars with too many people, your friends and family checking in, more tears (fuck, they never run out), takeout delivered to your doorstep, maybe an impulse buy or two…

When you were in distress, Alpine would always sit on your lap until your uneven breaths were in line with her quiet purrs. You would stroke her fur and mutter a thank you while you kissed the top of her head. She would eventually be irked by your flurry of kisses and promptly leave, knowing you were okay.

And so you found yourself turning onto an all-too-familiar street, pulling into an all-too-familiar lot, walking up to an all-too-familiar door.

Whatever trance you were in broke as soon as you felt the jagged edge of the key in your hand. You came to your senses long enough to reluctantly send Bucky a text, asking if you could pay your favorite girl a visit.

His response was almost immediate, shining brightly on your phone screen.

Open invite.

You sighed gratefully, though his response didn't indicate whether he would be in attendance. You pressed your ear to the door, and were greeted with silence. Carefully, you entered your former home.

It smelled like amber, like pine, like leather. Like Bucky. It was overpowering, threatening to shut off all your senses until-

Your heart melted as you spotted Alpine, summoned by the sound of the door. You hadn’t even let yourself into the space, instead falling to your knees and spreading your arms right there by the door. She came to you, stepping on your thighs and pulling herself up to your chest. You embraced her, and your tears fell.

You and Alpine stayed like that for a while, until she wriggled out of your grasp and disappeared.

that's enough, she seemed to say. dust yourself off.

You retrieved a few treats from the cupboard, leaving it for her on her favorite spot on the coffee table.

Your rendezvous continued every week. You seemed to have found the magical window of time where Bucky Barnes was never in his apartment. A weekly debrief with Sam, you guessed by the sticky notes on the fridge. You time, Alpine time.

At first, you stayed in front of the door, not daring to leave the space occupied by the doormat. Alpine would come to you, until she wouldn’t.

She coaxed you to the kitchen first, pawing at where Bucky kept her food. You gave her a little extra in her bowl, knowing that Bucky had already fed her. He was religious about it.

If she could roll her eyes, she would.

i’ll indulge you this time, she seemed to say, nibbling while you sat on the ground and petted her.

Next was the living room. She walked across the cushions, inviting you.

i haven’t got all day, she seemed to say.

You sat next to her, feeling the familiar sink of the cushion beneath you. Though you sat uncomfortably, your spine stick straight and your bum right on the edge of the couch.

You left her treats every time, in the same spot. You didn’t notice how the bag seemed to magically refill every time.

On your next visit, Alpine napped peacefully on the glass coffee table, right next to a thin vase of flowers.

You flinched. He had decorated. For someone else? But as you stepped in, you recognized the blush pink hue of camellias.

Alpine’s eyes slowly opened until she registered your presence. She walked around the vase, tail adding a dramatic flourish. Totally unnecessary, as the plant stood out enough in Bucky’s horrifically monochrome home.

dad said they were your favorite, she seemed to say.

A week later, Alpine purred in your lap as you leaned back on the soft couch, even daring to turn on the television. You were greeted by an array of music videos lining the search history. All the songs you told him to listen to, but thought he never did.

“This one is the best,” you told Alpine, gesturing to the most recent video played. She looked up at you.

dad’s only played it a million times, she seemed to say as she lengthened her body into a stretch.

“Huh,” you said on your next visit. A single magnet sat on the fridge door, a cartoon bear operating a gondola. A souvenir Bucky picked up after a conference in Italy. Also known as, your old message to Bucky when he came home in the dead of night from assignments. It meant, food inside. eat, please, then come to bed. i love you. He would sit his aching body, massaging a bruise or picking at Sam's shoddy gauze work, and enjoy the meal you prepared.

It must have been a fluke, but you found yourself pulling open the fridge door. A nearly empty fridge, save for a styrofoam container perched on the middle rack.

You sat at the kitchen table, enjoying your comfort meal from the Thai restaurant you could never stop praising, while Alpine watched you lazily.

“Tell him thank you,” you told her sheepishly. “I guess.”

i’ll think about it, she seemed to say as she yawned and walked away.

Every time you visited, there was a small gesture to make your stay just a little more comfortable. Your favorite tub of ice cream. Your favorite candle. Your favorite author's new book. This was Bucky's love. It was quiet. It was subtle. It crept up on you, like the smile you didn’t know you were wearing. He was details.

You filled up his fridge, a colorful combination of fruit, vegetables, and snacks. You brought in bags full of throw pillows and blankets, arranging it carefully in his home. The muted colors looked blinding in contrast with the monochrome pieces Bucky preferred.

And this was your love. It was the big-ass elephant in the room, if the elephant also yelled, "Hello! I'm here!" It was a clown car, pouring out in impossible amounts. It demanded to be seen, it demanded to be heard.

“Big it is,” Bucky said, feeling the cool air of the fridge, staring at the arrangement of food that threatened to spill over.

Alpine had the honor of watching you both. There was a lot she seemed to say.

You hummed, turning the key until you heard the lock free itself.

Balloons grazed the ceiling, shaped in cheesy hearts and shining proudly in metallic pink and red. Bouquets of forget-me-nots and roses, asters and camellias greeted you from the tables and countertops. You heard the familiar rhythm of your favorite song filling the air.

Alpine stood in the middle of it all, mewing happily and swiping at one of the many balloon strings.

Bucky stepped out from the doorway that led to his bedroom, just barely. You could make out the blue shirt that stretched over his chest, the wrinkles in his pants, the nervous twitch of his jaw.

"No debrief?" you said hesitantly, stopping short at the door.

"Cancelled. I had something that took precedence.

“Alpine insisted on the decor. I told her it was too much,” he said sheepishly, still gauging your reactions, gesturing towards his pet that paid both of you absolutely no mind.

You stared at him in disbelief, still not sure he was really there, in front of you, but you couldn't help but laugh.

“I worked on a schedule,” he said quickly, “with Sam. We called Clint, we got his advice.”

“Uh-huh,” you said absentmindedly, dropping your bag on a chair.

“Even Scott had some advice, but a lot of it depended on being on house arrest…”

“Sure,” you said, fingers grazing over rose petals.

“All this to say, I'm sorry. And I know you hate hearing it, and I know I don’t deserve it, but if you were-”

“Bucky?” you interrupted, taking one last step to close the gap between you two. In his anxious state, he hadn’t realized you were making your way over to him. Your fingers reached out, the prickle of his stubble tickling your fingertips. He sighed into your touch as you traced the chain of his dog tags, setting off the familiar jingle of metal.

“Yes?” he breathed, barely audible. His arms stayed at his side, heavy as anvils, the desire to trace your curves overwhelming but wondering if he was deserving.

“Say what you need to say,” you murmured, “quickly.” You wrapped your arms around his neck; he lowered his head until your foreheads rested against each other. His hazy blue eyes rested underneath furrowed brows, tense with regret.

“I'll do it right this time.” He spoke to your lips, and you watched as his eyes dipped low, masking the blue behind a curtain of eyelashes. “For you. For us.”

“I'm just here for the cat, Barnes,” you responded with a smile, pressing your lips to his.

He chuckled, feeling sensation return to his arms. He cupped his hands underneath your thighs and lifted. You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his torso and your hands gripped the back of his shirt.

Alpine paused her playdate with a curling ribbon just long enough to watch you two disappear into the bedroom.

my job here is done, she seemed to say.

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zalrin · 9 months ago

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Regrets (BG3 Imagine)

Title: Regrets

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x good!Dark Urge (OC!Zurge)

Warnings: Spoilers for Baldur’s Gate 3

Part: 1

Word Count: 1,721

Summary: Several centuries have passed since the party's fight against the Absolute. After saving the world, they each went their separate ways. Some tried to stay in touch, but they all eventually drifted apart, especially due to the merciless passage of time. Astarion wanted nothing more than to reunite with Zurge, but after the mistake he’s made, he couldn't bring himself to interfere with her life. Now that the 700th year since their separation was approaching, he couldn't help but wonder what happened to that elven mortal - the only one he has ever truly loved.

Note From Author: This fanfic is largely inspired by the popular "You came, You called" meme I'd often see on almost all social media platforms. I only recently learned it was from a series called, "The Sandman" and ended up watching an extended clip of the scene (episode 11, for those of you wondering). That's when this idea came to me, so please enjoy! The title may change (it's a work-in-progress).

Part 1 - Regrets

Why?

No matter how tightly the windows were shut, the noises always seemed to filter through. The bustling streets, the people going about their day, the animals chattering, and the wheels of all the carriages and carts squeaking incessantly. He could hear even the faintest of whispers in the furthest reaches of the city, the meaningless gossip of all those beneath him.

Why?

The rustle of clothes. The shuffling of feet. His servants rushing to-and-fro, making sure to stay clear of his room. The latest spawn resisting their hunger, abiding by the rules he set forth. The guests sluggishly making their way out of his palace as yet another banquet had successfully concluded.

Why?

A cup shattered, decorating the wall with blood and glass. The one who threw it held his head, cursing at the fact that he couldn’t get drunk, as the servants outside scurried further away from the room in fear.

“Shut up!”

Astarion yelled, gripping his head as if he were in pain.

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”

But the voice didn’t obey. It was one of the few presences that always disregarded his commands.

Why?

He slumped deeper into his bed, the silk sheets doing nothing to alleviate his frustrations. No amount of outside noise seemed to be able to silence the one ringing in his head. Always just one word. One question. Over and over again. It was to the point that it was driving him mad.

Why?

He was beginning to hate the sound of his own voice. It was the one asking the question, after all. Like a broken record, repeating the same thing with no end in sight. As if his former self that he had long since abandoned was constantly questioning him. Nagging him. Pestering him.

Why?

It never seemed to rest, but there were moments it would amplify. Anything she wouldn’t approve of. Anything she would find saddening. Anything she would advocate against. Every single time, his former self never failed to ask that same question, forcing him to recall the one that had abandoned him. The one he both wished he could forget but also hoped he never would.

“Shut up…” He muttered, covering his face with his hands. “I did what I had to do.”

Why?

“To be free! To be happy! To have everything I ever wanted!” He replied, standing up from his bed and glaring at the mirror he once adored. Never had he imagined a day would come when he would despise his own reflection.

Why?

It was as if the man in the mirror was not himself. It seemed to move by itself, completely independent from him. It was clear as day who this man was. It was him, but different. Dressed in clothes that were mended repeatedly, rather than his perfectly tailored suit. His past self. The version of him he threw away.

“You know damn well why I did it,” he laughed, hysteria taking control as his vision blurred from the rage that seethed inside.

His reflection did not respond.

“Now look at me! I’ve played host to every kind of banquet, soiree, and masquerade imaginable. My influence over this city has nearly reached its peak, having authority over those who matter.”

Still, his former self did not reply.

“I have all the time in the world to spin my web, and now all this power is mine. There’s still an entire world out there, ready for the taking.”

Astarion peered back into the mirror, waiting for that annoying question to speak up once more. But his reflection was strangely… Quiet. It stared back at him, but something was different. As if it was waiting for something.

“Truly a life worth living, right?”

Then why do you regret it?

That startled him. The question his past self would ask, it was only ever why. It had never changed, nearly driving him insane. Since the day it began to speak… Since the day his spawn reported Zurge’s… His former self never said a different word. Not even to elaborate on its question.

Why do you regret the choice you made that day?

“What-”

Ever since you found out-

“Don’t. Don’t say it.”

It was bound to happen eventually. She’s not like us. She won’t live forever. Wouldn’t it have just been better to turn her?

“Silence! Go back to your one-worded-”

Why do you not regret being unable to turn her into a spawn, but you regret your ascen-

“SHUT UP!”

In a fit of rage, his hand went through the fragile mirror. It shattered on impact, but his hand remained free of any wounds. Not a drop of blood was shed. But even with the mirror broken beyond repair, the voice didn’t stop.

If you regretted it so much, it sneered, why didn’t you go to her when she was still-

“I couldn’t!”

It was the first time he had been truly honest with the illusion, but he couldn’t sit still. He didn’t want to come to terms with what it was about to say next. He couldn’t bear to think about it, so how could he let it say it out loud?

“There, are you happy now?” He chuckled, stepping on the broken glass as he made his way to his desk. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t go to her. Not with how things ended. Not after what I’ve done.”

Are you content that she may have gone on hating you until the day she-

“Yes.” He interrupted again, settling into his chair and resting his arms on his desk with his head hung low. “I am content simply knowing that she is… Was happy.”

Is that why you’re searching?

“What?”

Is that why you’re searching for it, after all this time?

Astarion knew what his former self was referring to, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. If he did, it would become too real. And once it became real… How could he bear the pain that would follow? The emptiness?

Before he could formulate a response, a hurried knock came at the door.

If given the chance, would you like to see her again?

A foolish question. One that didn’t need an answer. It had never changed since the day she left him. Why would it be any different now?

“Enter.”

He ignored the voice, focusing on the real world, not the voice that festered in his mind.

Do you still love her, even when you chose power over her all those years ago?

Another foolish question. Why would his former self feel the need to ask when it was the very embodiment of the regret he had for choosing to ascend? If he could turn back time, he would have listened to her. He wouldn’t have betrayed her. And she never would’ve left his side.

He tried to delude himself into thinking that all this power made him happy. He amassed so much of it to continue the charade. But his former self knew how miserable he truly was, so why did it still bother to ask?

The door swung open, waking him from his thoughts, and he heard footsteps rush towards him. In a fluid motion, the steps halted and he heard the familiar sound of someone kneeling. Such a greeting was common amongst his children. It was one of his commands, after all. Now, what could be so important that a mere spawn would come all the way to his room to report?

“Speak.”

Believing it to be unimportant, like all of the other reports he periodically received from his spawn, Astarion glanced up from his desk towards the kneeling servant. But the moment he laid eyes on the figure, he knew exactly who this was. The realization made his cold heart flinch for the first time in a long while. He… He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

“We’ve found-”

“Stop.”

He interrupted the spawn. Astarion immediately understood why they were here before they could even say the words. This was one of the many spawns he had commanded to search for… To find Zurge’s grave. But, regardless of how desperate he had been when giving the command… He just wasn’t ready to hear the results. He wasn’t ready to confirm what he knew would eventually come.

“Report the location to me later,” he sighed, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion as he reached out to pour himself another glass. “You are excused.”

“But Master-”

“I don’t want to hear another word about her grave,” he warned, a crack running up the cup in his hand before even a drop of blood could be poured.

It was a testament to how much he was restraining himself. A threat to make sure his child didn’t say another unnecessary word.

“If you have nothing else to report, leave. That’s an order.”

Would you go to her if she called for you?

The strange question made him freeze in his tracks, unable to reach for another cup. What did the voice mean, if she called for him? It knew better than he did of the news his spawn was bringing. They had even tried to say it several times, but he had interrupted the impudent child. Was his former self trying to give him false hope? Was the voice trying to break his sanity through cruelty now?

“Master.”

His spawn’s voice brought him back from the self-loathing spiral he was about to drown in and he quickly recollected his thoughts. Before he could become annoyed that the spawn was still here, despite his command, they continued.

“There is no grave.”

The words he was about to say quickly got stuck in his throat. Silence filled the room. Why did it seem like he couldn’t understand anything? First his former self. Now his spawn. Why didn’t any of them seem to make any sense today?

“... What did you say?”

Perhaps he misheard. He was delusional from the hope his inner voice tried to ignite. Yes, that was the only logical answer. How could it possibly be anything else? Too many years had passed to allow for such a hope in his eternal life.

But reality seemed to still have miracles left for him.

“Zurge… She’s alive.”

Or karma had finally caught up to his wretched self.

“She’s alive as a spawn.”

[Next]

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 dark urge #dark urge #bg3 durge #durge #astarion x dark urge #astarion x durge #astarion x durge fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #astarion romance #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x durge #ascended astarion x dark urge #fanfic #fanfiction

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sashi-ya · 2 years ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑳𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕 [part 1] Byakuya Kuchiki x F! Clan Leader! Reader.

✦torpe: enemies to lovers. | Au: not really specified, not canon. Inspired on chinese clans. red string of fathe. ✦tw: NSFT. mdi. explicit sexual scenes (vag, creampie). demonic possession. violence. blood. ✦a/n: not sure how long this fic will be, but at least more than one chapter. You can tell me if you want more :3 the "Wheat disease" is just a random disease I invented, since I can't have gluten I found it funny to give that name to it. ✦wc: 3k~

Becoming the matriarch of your clan at such young age hasn’t been easy. The many things to attend, the rules, the enemies…

oh, the enemy… tangled with your sheets one more night, one more time.

“I didn’t think you were to take that risk, Byakuya… you know too well you could wake up with my sword carved into your lungs one of these days” you murmur, while tracing a path upwards all through the line of his spine.

His pale skin reacts to your touch; the indentation of his spine in the middle of his back a beautiful place in which you wish you could die. Soft silk sheets covering right above the start of his glutes, his long black hair strands raining on his shoulders.

“Same way you could wake up with my sword about to slice your head…” Byakuya murmurs turning around to face you.

You scoff… “we are different, you see? I told you could wake up with a sword already carved in you, but you only named “about to” when it comes to me”.

Byakuya’s ears become red. Such showing of weakness coming from himself should be punished. But is it worth it? He is already sleeping with the enemy anyway.

The noble reaches for your hand, pulling you on top of his chest. You fall gracefully with your palms on his shoulders. You can’t help but felt driven by his skin scent, not that flowery like usual. The lingering smell of sex nests in the crook of his neck, calling you to sin once more before both have to go back to reality.

“Why is the forbidden such a delicious fruit? So juicy, so addictive?” you whisper, muzzled by the pristine white canvas that’s his skin.

Your questioning only rips a subtle scoff from his mouth, but quite a brute bite to your shoulder; “Who knows, but it definitely tastes like ambrosia”

Grunting you crawl on top of him; straddling your hips to his. Byakuya is again so hard and you so wet. You can feel the heat increasing as your cores are pressed into each other. Your nails carve their pass on his pecs, leaving reddish reactions on his skin.

Your enemy’s hips buck up. He is searching for a warmth he has learned to enjoy; a warmth he dies to experience those nights when both are separated. You moan in response, allowing your femininity to surround his shaft.

“Nghh…” Byakuya grunts, throwing his head back, showing you the tense muscles of his neck and the sharp mandible that could cut your skin. You bite your lips, there is no better sound, no better image that the one that his delighted self depicts.

His silky gentle hands search for your hands, soft fingers intertwining. Soft, but strong grip.

Move, move for me. Let me bury in you…

O shaped mouths, lips getting dry. Both hastily breathing. It seems that what was meant to be to never be close, the closer it gets the more beautiful it is.

“I need to… can I…?” Byakuya asks, while his hips drill into you. Up and down, helping your back and forth motions.

“Is- isn’t it… the epitome of the forbidden, Byakuya Kuchiki? You want me yours; you want me completely yours?” you ask back, in between pants and lip biting.

Byakuya frowns in pure pleasure, because even if you are trying once again to become bitter, pleasure isn’t stopping and you either. And neither his hips are, and the upcoming orgasm that feels like a volcano that’s about to erupt.

“Please, just once…” he begs, making you shiver. His pleading deep blue eyes make you so weak.

You let your chest fall on top of him, allowing his hips to do all the work now. No more riding, just letting him ram countless times in and out of you. Your lips tightly press once against the other, and then breath robber kisses with tongues dancing and saliva mixing.

“Do it… fill me up, fill me up until you are absolutely satisfied, Kuchiki Byakuya” you purr, when your mouths separate for bare seconds.

He grunts, taking a big gasp of air, surrounding your body with his arms and pressing down the small of your back. He goes deeper, deeper than before. A hard thrust, a violent one. Your trembling muscles announcing your own pleasure peak and the way both breath each other’s moans.

Warm, overflowing. It feels like home, like breaking rules and like freedom. Womb so full, with clenching walls asking for more of that milky elixir of climax.

“I might have fallen in love with you…” you whisper right into his ear, still breathing hastily but in heaven still connected to feel those lagging throbs of his sex into yours.

Byakuya caresses your back up towards your nape with his whole palm. Gripping your hair after to pull slowly and yet so dominantly your head back. He wants to see your face that was hiding in the crook of his neck.

Your enemy smiles… Your sloppy eyelids, irritated lips apart, the blush on your cheeks drives him crazy…

“I-”

The hard nock on your door, and the entrance of men you don’t quite recognize bursting into your room.

“You are a disgrace for the clan, Matriarch (name)!” they scream.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ...

Two months before.

“Matriarch (Name), we have reports of the Kuchiki men wandering in our territory” your men announce, unable to look you in the eyes. They aren’t allowed.

You put down your brush. Those letters to your brother who has travel far away can wait. “Bring me one; I’ll interrogate him myself” you order.

Those who came to give information leave after bowing before you. Efficiently, and silently. No more than twenty minutes after and one of the Kuchiki clan’s men appear in front of you, with a bloody nose and perhaps some knocked out teeth.

You stand up, your royal clothes flowing with the wind your own presence creates. Hitting the table with your two hands, you make the prisoner of red hair jolt.

“Speak. Why were you wandering my lands? If your lord master isn’t able to follow the treat we’ve made I will attack offhandedly” you declare, looking at him from above, so contemptuously.

“I- we weren’t! We… we needed a special flower… you see, my master… he has fallen ill with the… Wheat disease!! We can’t find any of the flowers in our territory, I beg you please, help us!” the man kneels in front of you, prostrating after to plead for a cure.

You frown. Kuchiki Byakuya might be your enemy, but the Wheat disease is known to be mortal in a matter of days. And your clan, especially you, aren’t used to see your enemies fall because of illnesses but from your swords.

After meditating for a couple of seconds you reach for a conclusion. You are aware such decision could make your collaborators and your whole clan mad but once you decide something you aren’t coming back.

“I will help. Take me to your Lord Master and I will cure him” you pronounce, owning the gasps of your men and the prisoner’s cry to suddenly stop. “I have the antidote and the kido techniques to save his life. But you will have to take me to him, personally. That’s my deal”

The red-haired man grabs the distinctive around his arms and after a few seconds agree. He squeezes the Kuchiki emblem hard around his arm, but there is nothing he could do; Byakuya’s life comes first.

Despite knowing he will most probably end up being beheaded for bringing the head clan of their mortal enemies to the Kuchiki manor.

Soon your hand chair gets ready. It’s made of ebony and gold; red finest silks cover the sides, and you sit in there like the powerful matriarch you are. Luxury abound, if the Kuchiki are rich, the (Name of your Clan) are richer.

The sound of your army boots resound around the forest that both clans share, where no one is allowed to trespass the red line drawn on the floor because of an historical agreement Byakuya Kuchiki and you have made.

The deal still burns in the back of your mind. Noble houses spoke for about two weeks after the image of your hands shaking. Your clans have hated each other, being hostile and brawl for more than 300 years, yet, the hate met a truce by the hands of two young leaders.

The red-haired men whose name was known to be General Abarai, has been sent to the front line of your procession. He would be the one in charge of letting his comrades know about your presence there and your -honest?- reasons behind your deal breakage.

You play with your distinctive ring while you believe you are about to reach the limit traced in the forest. The Lycoris Radiata, the flower that represents your clan, made of ruby carves in your fingertip as you press your ring without noticing. You don’t want to accept the fact that you are more anxious than you should be.

The last time you saw Byakuya he had just recently assumed the leading position of his clan and there were no night you dreamed of those sharp eyes fixed on yours after the delicate yet strong handshake that set the truce.

You wonder if he looks miserable now; does he know his subordinate will come pleading for help to save his life to no other than his mortal enemy? The truce only meant the ceasefire of an eternal war in your backyards, but that didn’t mean the hate inherited by blood would stop existing at all.

“Hate… why our clans hate each other really?” you ask yourself, not being able to recall the exact reason behind such rivalry. Was because of lands? Was because of gold? Your father wasn’t ever allowed to tell you, neither did your mother. Not even your sensei.

Nobody ever knew the real root of such abhor.

The sudden stop of your chariot pulls you out of your own mind. You have arrived to the Kuchiki lands. Fields of Sakura trees in pure blossom, the everlasting crimson of your “Death Flowers” have ended to meet the pink representation of ephemeral springs that will soon be covered in pristine white snow.

The hand of your general reaches for yours to help you get off your chair. The scent of softness surrounds you, and it’s nothing like at home where the perfume of your flowers makes everyone dizzy.

You smirk pleased. There is something absolutely empowering about you putting your foot in those lands that you wish to enjoy as much as possible.

“What is she doing here?!” some soldiers whisper. “Why is the Death Matriarch here?” some workers murmur.

You scoff… “Death Matriarch” they call you, just because of your red flower fields. If they only knew you are there to pull his master’s death from his own body with your “death flowers”.

Rukia Kuchiki, Byakuya’s sister arrives at the doors of their property. Small woman with great power. Of course, what else could you expect from a Kuchiki after all.

“Matriarch (Name), what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little bit low to come visit us when our leader is bedridden? I am well aware you aren’t a scavenger, and he isn’t dead” she says, with trembling voice but decided to protect his only family at all costs.

Your men quickly unsheathe their scimitars while hers wield their katanas at you.

You take your hand to your lips, letting a sophisticated but sarcastic giggle.

“Sheathe, my men. Don’t act hostile towards Miss Kuchiki, please. I have come in peace, brought by no other than General Abarai” you calmly tell her, because you have no intentions of fighting. At least, not until your opponent is placed on an equal footing. And Byakuya, right now, isn’t.

General Abarai immediately speaks up, grabbing Rukia’s hand in his. The attention derives from you to such display of confidence from a lower class one to the master’s sister.

“My lady, she is the only one able to cure Lord Master Kuchiki” he mumbles, trying to explain that bringing you there wasn’t just a mere whim.

You see that woman become weak when the calloused big hands of the general surround hers. A soft smile garnishes your face, there is no doubt -at least in front of your eyes- that both are completely in love with each other.

“Renji… my brother would prefer dying before letting her help him” she whispers in pain, letting for some moments to show how much this is hurting her.

“I will take full responsibility for such boldness… but I can’t let Lord Master Kuchiki die”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ . ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ .

The interior of the Kuchiki manor looks as clean as you could imagine.

Even if Byakuya himself offered his house to seal the truce six years ago, you blatantly deny it. Instead, you ended up doing it right in the forest, casting both the divisor line with kido. A line that have intrigued many cultivators and monks… because it wasn’t white as it was supposed to be, but it was crimson, like a trail of blood spilled on the ground after someone’s carotids had been slashed open.

“Matriarch (Name), my brother is right in this room. You can ask me anything and we will bring it to you” Rukia says, still nervous.

You take a quick look through the door of the whitest room you have ever seen. Behind also white curtains of semi sheer silk the dark figure of a man lies on a futon.

A dark aura, however, contrasts with the ghostly atmosphere that surrounds him. It’s the mantle of death floating around him, like vultures awaiting for his inevitable end.

“Kuchiki Rukia, I believe you won’t be willing to see this. I promise you, in name of my whole clan that your brother will be back at being himself. But the returning path it’s gonna be painful to walk” you explain to her, in total honesty.

You see her eyes become watery, but, at the very least, a shine of hope still shines in them. She hums, closing her eyes and leaning towards General Abarai. Him, who hasn’t taken his eyes from her, receives her weakened body in his strong arms.

You smile kindly, and then enter into the room of who everybody knows as “your enemy”

Immediately the scent of camellias hits you; It makes you slightly dizzy, as if it was placed in there to protect him from unwanted visitors. “You are just as I remember, Byakuya… Always putting up invisible walls before anyone to protect yourself… even in your deathbed”

You are a few centimetres to see his status. Behind those semi see through curtains lays the man you should be trying to kill, not help.

As you pass through, the silk caresses your cheeks with the soft kiss of delicacy and your eyes discover Byakuya’s indeed miserable body. He is completely naked, barely covered by linoleum sheets from his neck down as the current protocol indicates when treating patients with the Wheat Disease. You can only imagine what’s beneath such coverings.

Byakuya is completely damped in sweat, shivering so slightly. His fists are clenched, his eyes tightly shut. Mandible clenched, and neck muscles tensed.

You kneel on the side of his bed; you are aware that touching his chest, his arms or anywhere where the spots have appeared could potentially infect you with such disease.

“Lord Master Kuchiki, I’m Matriarch (Name). I haven’t come here in order to hurt you, I am here to save you” you inform him, whether he is able to hear you or not, it doesn’t really matter.

You inspect him closer. There is a certain vibe that indicates this isn’t a disease, it feels more as if someone had coursed his body. In any case, you should check.

You take some air and place your hands over his body. One at his head level, the other at his solar plexus. Creating crimson light, you encourage anything that could have crawled inside his body to awaken in your presence.

“Show yourself if you are there, evil spirit!” you hex.

You can see the veins of his neck popping out, his shoulders cracking. Your heart beats faster, you weren’t wrong; Byakuya Kuchiki had been cursed.

Waiting, anxiety creeps in your bones. You know you are strong, but you don’t know how strong that entity might be. If it will use Byakuya’s power, you don’t that either. Because you know the man laying there is as powerful as you, and perhaps, even more than you.

“Are you shy, disgrace of Diyu? Or are you scared of me?!” you course the demon for playing with your time; not even a ghost has the right to disrespect you.

Byakuya suddenly opens his eyes. That deep blue he used to have has turned in two black orbs, pure darkness within a deepest sea of red capillaries around.

“You useless bitch!” he screams, suddenly jumping on you. You end up pinned against the floor with his hands around your neck. He squeezes hard, so strongly you can barely pass a single molecule of oxygen through your trachea.

The linoleum sheets had fallen, and his perfect naked body shows more than what you could have wished to see. In any case, the white spots of the Wheat disease aren’t there, but now the marks of claws carved on his skin are.

“Byakuya, come back!” you plead with difficulty as he keeps strangling you with the smirk of a demon, hitting your head against the floor. “Byakuya come back, win the war against the evil!” you declare, using your index and middle finger pressed against his heart. You exude enough spiritual pressure to kill the strongest of demons and as you do the entity disappears.

The possessed muscles of your “enemy” soon lose tone, and he falls back. Quickly, you manage to avoid his body hitting the floor, grabbing him in your embrace. You pant, still trying to reach for fresh air, looking at the now peaceful countenance of an unconscious Byakuya.

“Who did this to you, Kuchiki?” you grunt, letting him to rest safely back into his bed. You have learned to ignore his nudity, but soon you remember is better if he gets covered by the sake of respect.

You proceed to cover him up, but even before that you think of curing those claw marks. You realized they have left a bowl of water with fresh towels, so, you stand up and pick them up.

Of course, a person like you shouldn’t be doing that for anyone, but you can’t help it. As if your hands were moving on your own you clean his wounds with extreme care, applying later the crumbled dried rests of the Spider Lily flowers you brought to cure the deep cuts.

Once you are finished, you finally take a look at yourself into a golden decorated mirror. Moving your hair away, you discover the indentations of his fingertips. They remain on each side of your neck, like the marks of possession.

“This secret must remain in between you and me, you brute” you mumble, grunting at the reflection of your bruised skin.

“Which secret, Death Matriarch?” a sloppy voice calls from behind. A shiver runs through your spine. You take your hand to your scimitar, ready to unsheathe. If that’s the demon, and it had fooled you into believing he had abandoned Byakuya’s body you will have to fight.

Suddenly and quickly, you turn around. But instead of discovering a ferocious entity, you only see Byakuya on the bed looking at you. He seems tired, but gladly the blue has returned to his beautiful eyes.

“Ugh… it’s just you” you breathe a sigh of relief. “No secret, this marks have been done by you. Well, by the curse inside you. You are free. I saved you” you state, a little too excited for what Byakuya is used to hear coming from you.

“You- you saved me? Who called you? Who let you in?! Why did you save me?!” he asks, displeased and feeling insulted. Byakuya tries to stand up from bed but fails miserably.

You immediately kneel by his side to help him. And you realize, again, this isn’t your usual you.

“I suggest you acting this way once you are recovered. You can fight to death with me once you are fully recuperated” you let the reasonable side of you take over. “Now that my job here is over, I’m leaving. I don’t wish to break the deal no more” you stand up and wave at him.

He remains silent. Absolutely dumbfounded as he watches you walk away. Yet right before you could open the door of his room he says something.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Please, stay”

To be continued…

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