#Lonely? Let the fog embrace you :)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willowbelle · 1 month

Text

Wasted

❤︎ roronoa zoro x fem reader ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

cw: tipsy sex, dom!zoro, sub!/slightly bratty reader, zoro is a tease, zoro is commanding, teasing, edging, arm-pinning, thigh-riding, oral (blowjob), wall-sex, spanking, creampie.

summary: reader is a strawhat. zoro and reader hook up after a party on the sunny. ;) strawhats know what's up.

word count: ~4,400

tagging: @bby-deerling @eelnoise @3v37773 @laylaloves-ed @shamblespirate @lowkeycasanova @maddddstuff

Wasted

A celebration was in the works for your crew following a recent victory.

The horizon blushes with hues of orange and pink, its kiss with the sky mirrored by the gentle lapping of waves against The Sunny's hull.

Above, strings of shimmering lights twinkle like stars, casting a soft glow upon the gathering, as if the cosmos themselves had descended to partake in the festivities.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the deck of your ship transforms into a stage, bathed in the golden embrace of dusk, setting the scene for an evening of celebration

Amidst the joyous throng, laughter and music fill the air; liquor on your tongues.

Luffy whirls Chopper around in a playful dance, while Usopp and Franky share a merry jig, their spirits soaring in the jubilant atmosphere.

"Hey, Chopper, check this out! I'm gonna be the Pirate King of the dance floor, too!" Luffy exclaims with a wide grin, his enthusiasm contagious.

Chopper giggles, clinging to Luffy's arm as they whirl around. "You're doing great, Luffy! But try not to spin me too fast, I'm getting dizzy!"

Luffy chuckles, slowing down his movements slightly. "Sorry about that, Chopper! But hey, we've got to celebrate our victory properly, right? Dancing is the best way to do it!"

Chopper nods eagerly, his tiny hooves tapping along to the beat. "Absolutely, Captain! Let's keep dancing until the sun comes up!"

----

The ambiance is one of warmth, brightness, and sheer exuberance, a testament to the camaraderie and triumph that define the partygoers.

In the bustling midst of The Sunny's jubilant celebration, a lone figure perches at the makeshift bar, silently observing the lively scene unfolding before him. His eye is fixed on you, even amidst the swirling dance floor.

Your movements are graceful and carefree, dancing along with Nami and Robin as you giggle drunkenly.

As you sway and twirl with the girls, lost in the euphoria of the moment, you catch a glimpse of the swordsman seated at the bar. His eyes seem to linger on you, a silent observer amidst the festivities. You can't quite place the expression on his face – is it longing, admiration, or something else entirely?

Despite the haze of alcohol clouding your senses, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. The music pulses around you, the beat thrumming through your veins, but his steady gaze holds your attention like a lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog.

With each playful spin and merry laugh, you find yourself stealing glances in his direction. Zoro’s always been mysterious, but tonight, his stoic gaze feels… different.

“Too much to drink, y/n?” Nami giggles, “You keep looking at Zoro. He’s so boring, sitting there all alone,” she scoffs playfully.

“Oh shut up,” you giggle, playfully swatting at the navigator’s arm, “Says you! You can barely stand up straight!”

As you continue to dance with Nami, your mind can't help but wander back to the mysterious swordsman at the bar. Sensing your distraction, Robin gives you a knowing smile and gently nudges your arm.

"Lost in thought, dear?" Robin's voice is soft, barely audible above the music.

You nod sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "I can't shake the feeling that someone's watching me," you confess, casting another glance in Zoro's direction.

Robin follows your gaze, her expression thoughtful. "Zoro does seem particularly focused tonight," she observes, her eyes flickering with curiosity. "But perhaps it's not boredom that keeps him seated there alone."

Her words pique your interest, and you turn to her with a quizzical expression. "What do you mean, Robin?"

Robin offers you a reassuring smile, her gaze steady. "I've learned that sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Perhaps Zoro has something on his mind that he's not quite ready to share."

----

As the music swells and your drinking continues, your curiosity gets the better of you. Excusing yourself from the dance, you navigate through the lively crowd towards the lone figure at the bar.

With each step, the anticipation builds within you, mingling with the alcohol-induced courage coursing through your veins. As you draw closer, you notice the subtle tension in Zoro's frame, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he meets your gaze.

With a light sway in your step and a playful giggle escaping your lips, you approach him, the warmth of the alcohol coloring your cheeks. "Hey there, lone swordsman,” you chirp, “Mind if i join ya?” you don’t even wait for his response before sliding onto the stool beside him with a less-than-graceful plop.

Zoro's expression softens, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he gestures to the stool, "Be my guest," he replies gruffly.

Zoro arches a brow, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like someone's had a bit too much fun," he observes, amusement evident in his tone.

You giggle again, nodding enthusiastically. "Maybe just a little," you admit, feeling a sudden burst of boldness fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. "But I couldn't resist coming to chat with the mysterious Zoro."

A chuckle escapes Zoro's throat as he leans back against the bar, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of intrigue. "Mysterious, huh?" he muses, swirling the contents of his drink thoughtfully. "I like the sound of that."

Perching on the stool, you steal a moment to take in his rugged features, the dim light casting shadows across his face. There's a quiet strength about him, an aura of mystery that draws you in.

"Sooooo, what's with the solitary act?" you slur playfully, “Why don’t ‘cha join us out there?”

Zoro chuckles, a low rumble that reverberates through the air. "Not my scene," he grumbles, taking a sip from his drink. "Besides, someone's gotta keep watch."

"Fair enoughhhh," you reply, your words trailing off as you glance back towards the dance floor where the party shows no signs of slowing down. The music pounds in your ears, and you find yourself swaying to the rhythm even as you sit at the bar.

For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the music providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you steal glances at Zoro, you can't help but wonder about the thoughts swirling behind his enigmatic gaze.

With a tipsy grin, you lean a little closer to Zoro, feeling a sudden surge of boldness. "You knowww," you begin, your words slightly slurred but filled with earnestness, "I've been thinking about you."

Zoro's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, his gaze shifting to meet yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Oh, really?" he responds, his tone tinged with a hint of intrigue.

"Yeah," you continue, a playful lilt in your voice. "I mean, you're always off doing your own thing, being all mysterious and brooding... It's kinda hard not to think about you."

A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of Zoro's lips as he listens to your rambling confession. "Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," he remarks, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You nod enthusiastically, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his response. "Definitely," you affirm, a playful twinkle in your eye. "You've got this whole mysterious thing going on, and I gotta admit, it's pretty intriguing."

Zoro's gaze softens, a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes. "I'm glad you think so," he replies, his voice quieter, now, more sincere.

"You've been thinking about me, too, right?" you tease, your words laced with playful skepticism. You flirtatiously twirl a strand of hair between your fingertips as you await his response.

Zoro's expression softens, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he admits before taking a sip of his drink, "But what makes you so sure of that?"

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of being on his mind. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," you quip, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "I mean, who wouldn't think about me?"

A low chuckle rumbles in Zoro's chest as he shakes his head in amusement. "You've got a point there," he concedes, his gaze intense as it lingers on you.

Emboldened by his admission, you take a sip of your drink before continuing. "It’s pretty obvious, you know, i've noticed all that staring," you toy, a hint of bashfulness creeping into your voice.

Zoro's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. "Have you now?" he teases back.

You nod, feeling a rush of boldness coursing through you. "Yeah," you reply, a flush creeping across your cheeks. "And I have to say, I kinda like it."

A flicker of something unreadable dances in Zoro's eyes as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Well, then," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "Maybe we should do something about it."

As Zoro's breath grazes your skin, sending a surge of anticipation coursing through you. The air crackles with tension, each moment stretching out as you wait for his next move.

With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his. "I think that's a fantastic idea," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft music that still fills the air.

Zoro's gaze darkens with desire as he closes the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that ignites a fire deep within your core. In that moment, all doubts and reservations melt away, leaving only the raw, undeniable passion that burns between you.

With a shared breathless smile, Zoro gently takes your delicate hand in his calloused one, his touch causing sparks to erupt beneath your skin. "Come with me," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, “Too crowded here.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest as you follow him through the dimly lit corridors of the ship. Each step brings you closer to an unknown destination, yet you trust in the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

----

As you walk together in silence, the air thick with anticipation, you steal glances at Zoro, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his fitted shirt and the intensity in his eyes. Despite the darkness of the corridor, you feel a warmth spreading through you, fueled by the promise of what's to come.

Finally, you arrive at Zoro's quarters, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, you're enveloped in the intimate glow of candlelight, casting shadows that dance across the walls.

Before you can even catch your breath, Zoro presses you firmly against the wall, his strength evident in his forcefullness.

With a hunger that matches your own, Zoro leans in closer, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. It's as if he's staking his claim, pouring all his pent-up desire and longing into your lips.

“Mm,” he groans lowly into your mouth.

Filled with a surge of daring, you lift your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, urging him closer. You revel in the intoxicating taste of him—a mingling of sea salt and booze—it electrifies your senses. His presence is overpowering, emitting a primal scent of sweat and masculinity, tempered only by a faint hint of weak cologne.

Your tongues collide in a fierce, passionate dance, each movement conveying a raw hunger and urgency that leaves you breathless. It's as if you're drowning, and his mouth is your lifeline.

You feel the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smirk at your desperation, and in a swift, decisive motion, he seizes the opportunity to grasp your wrists firmly. With a firm yet gentle touch, he maneuvers your arms above your head, pinning them against the wall as he presses his body against yours.

“Needy thing, aren’t ya?” he grins wolfishly, making heat pool in your core.

With a low growl, he leans in closer, his lips trailing a path of fire along your jawline and down to your neck.

Your head instinctively lulls back, giving him more access to your throat.

“Mm, Zoro,” you huff lustfully, “Want you so bad…”

As he continues to sloppily kiss down the column of your neck, he brings his right knee up to slot between your legs, making you gasp softly into his mouth.

“Come on, baby,” he groans.

Zoro's hands abandon their place around your wrists, descending to grip your breasts firmly. His calloused palms mold your soft flesh, eliciting a small squeak of delight from your lips.

“F-Fuck,” you curse softly.

As you continue to rock your hips against him, the heat between you intensifies, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak. His touch is urgent, his kisses hungry, as if he's determined to consume you entirely.

"Do you like that, y/n?" he growls against your neck, his voice thick with desire. "Losing yourself on me like this?"

Driven by an insatiable need, your hands find their way to his back, your nails digging into his muscles as you cling to him desperately.

"M-mhm," you whimper in agreement, unable to form coherent words as you lose your composure.

His grip on your breasts tightens, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You can feel the primal urgency in his touch, the intensity of his desire mirrored in the way he ravishes you.

But suddenly, he stops, making you whine out at the loss of contact as he slowly pulls away from you.

His eyes are hungry as you looks you over. Iris moving up and down your form like a predator stalking its prey.

“Get on your knees,” he grumbles lustfully.

His command sends a shiver down your spine, and yet, you obey immediately, sinking to your knees before the swordsman.

As you lower yourself, you feel a surge of heat pooling in your core, the anticipation of what's to come making your heart pound within your chest.

Without a word, he reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gently guides your head forward.

You inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you feel his warmth close in on you. And then, you do as you have been silently told, pressing your lips to his skin, kissing him with a fervor born of pure desire.

His arousal is evident; rock hard and pulsing beneath each press of your lips to his crotch.

His toned arms snake down, deftly tugging at his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers in one fluid motion. His cock springs free, bobbing against his muscular abdomen, a potent symbol of his arousal.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the sight of the man before you. He’s magnificent. His cock is big, thick; looks heavy, even.

As your eyes roam over him, he notices your reaction and smirks, a self-satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. He takes your chin between his fingertips, tilting your gaze upwards to meet his.

"Don't drool now," he teases, his voice laced with smug confidence, knowing damn well how well-endowed he is.

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing with desire as you meet his gaze. His confidence is intoxicating, his dominance igniting a primal hunger within you that demands to be sated.

With trembling hands, you reach out, unable to resist the temptation before you. Your fingers trace along the length of his cock, marveling at its girth and hardness.

He groans softly at your touch, his eyes darkening with desire as he watches you with hungry anticipation. Encouraged by his response, you wrap your hand around him, feeling the weight of him in your grasp.

"Fuck," he breathes out, his voice husky with need.

You continue to stroke him, your movements becoming more confident as you explore every inch of him eagerly.

His breaths grow heavier with each stroke, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward to meet your touch.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps.

You comply eagerly, parting your lips to accommodate him as he guides himself towards you.

He watches you intently, his gaze smoldering with lust as he revels in the sight of you submitting to him so willingly.

With a groan of satisfaction, he slides into your mouth, filling you completely with his hardness. You take him eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue.

As he fills your mouth, you can't help but moan in pleasure, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

"Mm," you moan around him, the sound vibrating against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

Encouraged by your response, he begins to move, thrusting gently into your mouth as he sets a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall back, “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

You revel in the praise that falls from his lips, a delicious affirmation of your obedience.

You can feel the thick tip of his cock meeting the back of your throat with each thrust, but you dismiss the discomfort, you just want to please him.

As you continue to take him deeper, you can feel the intensity of his desire growing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he nears the edge.

But instead of welcoming his orgasm, Zoro catches your face in his hand, holding your jaw to make you halt your efforts.

"Stand up," he commands huskily, his voice thick with need as he withdraws from your mouth.

You giggle playfully, wiping the drool from your chin. "Jeez, Zoro," you tease, "On your knees, open your mouth, stand up,” you mock, “What's next? You want me to do a handstand?"

Zoro smirks, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Do you want me to fuck you or not?" he grumbles, his tone laced with desire and impatience.

Your playful demeanor melts away at the threat of his words, replaced by a surge of arousal. With a playful roll of your eyes, you comply, rising to your feet and turning to face him, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you await his next move.

With a firm yet gentle hand, he guides you towards the wall, pressing your chest-first against its cool surface. The contact sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your arousal.

As you’re pressed breasts against the wall, you can feel the heat of his body against your back, his presence looming over you with an almost palpable intensity.

He presses himself against you, his hardness pressing into the small of your back.

You gasp at the contact, the heat of his arousal searing against your skin as you feel the full weight of his desire pressing into you. It's a delicious torment, the promise of pleasure mingling with the anticipation of what's to come.

"Feel how much I want you," Zoro's voice is low and husky against your ear as he presses himself closer, his breath hot against your skin.

You tremble at his words, “I-I want you, too, Zoro,” you whine.

He lets out a low growl of satisfaction, his hands trailing down your sides as he pulls your hips back to get you closer.

"Good," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear from behind, “Tell me how bad you want it, y/n, Or I won’t give it to you at all.”

Your breath hitches at his ultimatum. "I want it so bad, Zoro.” you whimper needily, “I need you to fuck me. Please."

You can’t see his face, but you swear you can feel his familiar smirk as he speaks against your ear, "That's what I wanted to hear," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

With a firm grip on his cock, he guides the tip to nudge at your weeping entrance, teasing you with the promise of entry. You gasp at the sensation, your breath catching in your throat as you await the intrusion.

He begins pressing himself inside you, groaning at the feeling of you stretching out around him. With each inch, he delves deeper, filling you completely with his throbbing hardness. The sensation is overwhelming, sending waves of both pleasure and pain coursing through your body.

“O-Oh, Zoro-!” you cry out weakly.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your skin as he bites along your nape,

"Sh-Shit," he curses through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pleasure, "So tight-" His words trail off into a guttural groan as he buries himself deep inside you, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped by your warmth.

You gasp at the feeling of him filling you completely, your body pulsating with pleasure as you surrender to the intoxicating intrusion.

His hand snakes up to grip the back of your neck as he finally begins to thrust in and out of you.

“Fuck-!” you whimper, your attempts to dig your nails into the wall futile against the onslaught of pleasure.

With a firm grip on your neck, he develops a steady rhythm, keeping you pressed against the wall as he moves in and out of you. Each thrust hits your sweet spot with precision, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through your body.

“Shit,” he groans, “You squeeze me so tight-”

A symphony of moans and gasps spills from your lips, mingling with his own guttural groans of pleasure. The room is quickly filled with the rhythmic sound of your bodies colliding, a passionate cacophony that echoes off the walls.

With a sudden motion, he pulls back slightly, his hand leaving your neck and landing firmly on your exposed ass, delivering a sharp spank that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

You gasp at the sudden sensation, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of the delicious sting. The impact leaves a tingling warmth in its wake, heightening the intensity of your arousal.

"Zoro," you whimper, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desire, your nails digging into the wall as you brace yourself for more.

Encouraged by your response, he delivers another spank, each strike awakening a primal hunger within you.

With each spank, he relishes in the way your body reacts, the way you gasp and arch towards him, begging for more.

"Such a slut for me," he growls, "You like it rough, don't you?"

You whimper in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure courses through you, mingling with the sting of his touch.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "Let me hear how much you enjoy it."

You moan in response, the sensation of his hand against your skin driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

The pace of his thrusts never falters as he grants you with more delicious spanks.

He’s thrusting rougher, now, impressed with how much you can take.

"You take me so good, y/n," he groans, his voice strained with desire and admiration. The praise only fuels your arousal further, spurring you on as you both chase the heights of pleasure together.

“Th-Thank you, Zoro,” you whimper weakly, “You fuck me so good-”

You're both teetering on the brink of release as he continues moving in and out of you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing moment. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear, matching the rhythm of your moans as you both surrender to the pleasure of the moment.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, his voice strained with desire, "I'm so close..."

You whimper in response, the pleasure overwhelming as you feel the heat building deep within you. With each thrust, you edge closer and closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

With a final, desperate thrust, you both topple over the edge of ecstasy. Zoro groans as he spills inside you, unapologetically painting your insides white.

And with that, the tension that had been coiling within your lower tummy finally snaps, releasing a torrent of pleasure that sends shockwaves through your veins and straight to your head. Colors explode beneath your eyelids as you're consumed by the intensity of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation.

In that moment, there's only the two of you, engulfed throes of pleasure.

----

The following morning, as the golden rays of sunlight filter through the windows of the ship, you and Zoro emerge from his quarters, your steps in sync as you walk side by side. There's a subtle ease in the air between you, a silent understanding of the shared intimacy that had transpired between you the night before.

As you enter the dining room, the crew's eyes dart up from their breakfast plates, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Sanji's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips, while Nami's eyes sparkle with mischief as she exchanges a glance with Robin.

Nami's mischievous grin widens as she leans back in her chair, her eyes flickering between you and Zoro. "Sounds like you two had fun last night," she quips, her tone dripping with playful innuendo.

You feel a flush creep up your cheeks at her teasing remark, but before you can respond, Zoro interjects with his usual gruff demeanor. "Mind your own business, navigator," he retorts, though there's a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

Luffy, ever oblivious to subtleties, beams at the two of you, his mouth already full of food. "Morning, guys! Did you sleep well?" he chirps, completely unaware of the implications of his question.

You exchange a glance with Zoro, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you both share a silent understanding. With a shrug, Zoro responds in his typical gruff manner, "Like a log."

986 notes · View notes

tacticalprincess · 1 month

Text

cw: angst, emotional manipulation, dry humping until completion

being the poor little hostage könig is in charge of looking after… he feels annoyed and helpless, listening to you sob for hours. he’s sympathetic; he can see how cohabitating with someone of his caliber might be distressing after what you’ve gone through. even after years of experience he still isn’t quite sure how to deal with this part of his job— the emotion and human interaction part. he avoids making direct eye contact with you and speaks to you as little as possible, figuring you just need space to process. little does he know that everything he does, down to the way his eyes shift uncomfortably in his hood, makes you feel even worse, self conscious and isolated, just like you’d felt when you were kidnapped. you longed to be close to the man that saved you from the situation you thought you wouldn’t make it out alive from, and the rejection you felt from him was only making the crave worse. you’d do anything to get his attention…

he returns back to your guys’ temporary hideaway to find you in the same spot he left you, curled up in the corner of the bed. his heart hurts at the image you make. he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room holding a paper bag. "i brought food and… more tissues."

you break down at the sound of his voice, the first voice that hasn’t evoked a deep sense of dread and fear into you in weeks. you can’t see through the fog of tears in your eyes, but you hear the sound of heavy footsteps inching toward you, the crinkling of the bag being set on the creaky wooden table. a large, tentative hand is placed on your shoulder, and you can’t help but lean into the touch you’ve been craving.

“don’t… don’t leave again.” you plead brokenly.

“okay…” könig sounds startled. “what do i…?”

“can you just sit with me? hold me?”

he hasn’t held anyone the way he holds you since before he can remember. it’s hesitant and stiff at first, you leaning up against his broad chest, his strong arms wrapped gingerly around you. he softens up the longer you sit there, your face buried in his neck as your crying turns into sniffling, and eventually his warm embrace feels indistinguishable from that of someone you’ve known forever— a lover, even. he just makes you feel so safe and protected. it’s not your fault that your confused, touch-starved brain reads the situation as something that it’s not.

könig’s supposed to be the clear headed one. he should stop you when you start crawling further on top of him, he shouldn’t let you sit yourself in his lap. it’s inappropriate and he knows it, only a sick man would take advantage of a young girl in such a vulnerable state. but it’s not like he isn’t also in dire need of physical affection. if he just sits back and lets you take what you need from him to be comfortable, he isn’t doing anything wrong. right?

“i’ve been so scared, so lonely.” you reason with him as your hands feel around his broad biceps through his tactical gear. the more you discover about him, the more your admiration for him grows. your breathing has turned heavy, the warmth of könig’s body paired with the feeling of having a man so close to you for reasons that aren’t to hurt you, has your cunt aching between your thighs. you’re so screwed up. “i never thanked you for saving me.”

“it’s my job.” you can hear that he’s effected too, his accent thick and deep and strained underneath his mask. you bite your lip at the sound, your little hips growing a mind of their own as they start to rut against his crotch. the sensation of your sweet heat rubbing snugly against his is enough to lower any inhibitions könig has left. fuck, he hasn’t felt anything like it in so long. “we shouldn’t–”

“it’s your job to take care of me.” hot tears start to well up in your eyes at the mere thought of stopping. you lock your arms together behind könig’s head, clamping your thighs tighter around him so he has no choice but to let you continue. “please, i need this, sir. i know you want it too.”

he could easily fight you back if he wanted to. he’s much bigger, much stronger… but he doesn’t. his hands find your hips, and you make eye contact for the first time since he rescued you, only now his eyelids are heavy with desire. he’s just as desperate as you. you got what you wanted, his full attention on you. he uses his strength to guide your movements until what youre doing can’t be described as anything else but riding his clothed erection, the friction against your sensitive clit all too much for you too quickly.

you grind against him to the point of overstimulation, too fucked-out to decide wether you want to pull him closer or push him away. he ends up deciding for you, though, hugging you until you’re pressed chest to chest, succumbing to desire. you can feel the way his bigger body dwarfs yours as you use each other to get off. tears stain your soft, flushed cheeks as you cum, pushed over the edge by the sounds of his low pants and grunts, his pulsing cock underneath you. warm with the knowledge that you made him feel as good as you. you thanked him properly.

“i’m here, engelchen. ride it out.”

the feeling of you convulsing on his dick is enough to milk könig’s orgasm out of him soon after, dirtying his pants with hot, thick cum. he strokes your head and whispers soothing words in your ear, and it’s not until you’re fast asleep on his lap that the gravity of what he’d done settles in, shame washing over him in waves…

#konig cod #smut #x reader #konig x y/n #konig modern warfare #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig x you #konig headcanons #konig x reader #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig x you #könig x y/n #bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

581 notes · View notes

writingoddess1125 · 8 months

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you'd be okay with writing a Mihawk x Reader piece where they're just slow dancing to soft classical music in the dim living room. Idk why the idea just seems like something Mihawk would do with his partner when they're trying to relax

This is too damn cute to pass up! I love this idea! Little short bit sweet non the less lol

Only Us

Fluff TOOTH ROTTING

Mihawk X Reader

It was a late evening, the fog of the island settling on the large manor you shared with Mihawk. He had recently returned from a 4 week long mission and had fallen back into a domestic reset- spending his first day knocked out and the second reading mostly. However it was important for him to unwind after such long days. You never minded, even if you did feel a bit lonely at times.

Mihawk sat back in his big chair reading the newest book you had found for him. While it wasn't something he would normally pick up for himself it was nice non the less- However his mind couldnt focus on the words on the page, instead drifting to you.

Watching you closely- You were just sitting there sketching and humming a random tune but... his mind couldnt help but wonder at the days you must have sat there worried for him, How everytime he came home you pampered him deapite him never asking you to. These last few months he had been extra busy so hadn't had the chance to return the favor... That needed to change and now-

Standing up he walked to the otherside of the shared bedroom and went through several records he had on the shelf. You looked up from your own mindless task to see your husband combing through the records, Raising an eyebrow at his antics.

"What are you up to love?" You question softly, watching him find what he was looking for it seemed as he set up the old record player. Gentle classical music poured out from the speaker, filling the dim candle lit room with a new warmth. Watching as Mihawk walked to you, holding his hand out to you calmly.

"Darling.. do you care to dance?" He asked softly, while his face was as stoic and cold as ever- you could see in those yellow eyes of his a warmth that only shone for you. Smiling softly you accepted his hand and stood up.

"I'd love to~" You purred out, following his lead as he guided you to the empty part of the room infront of the bed. One hand holding yours while his other hand found its way to your waist, carefully in time to the music you and him began to sway. Your free hand on his shoulder, your hands messing with his hair a bit as you two dance.

You closed your eyes and leaned you head gently on his bare chest, the sweet scent of wine, fresh bergamot and basil filling your lungs as the two of you held each other in a embrace. Mihawk pressing his face into your hair as you can feel his body relax against you.

"I've love you Dracule" you whisper softly letting the gentle movements and soft music wash through you as Mihawk lead in the soft dance. Pulling away for a brief moment as he gave you a gentle twirl before pulling you close once more.

"I love you too My Darling"

#x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #one peice x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action

550 notes · View notes

thepathwechooseif · 4 months

Text

DEMO TBA

In the English countryside in 1914, you live with your two children on your late husband’s grand estate. Two years have passed since the tragic sinking of the Titanic, from which you became a single parent.

Though surrounded by wealth and community, you remain lost in a fog of grief. But with the arrival of summer, the neighbouring family prepares to host their annual month-long house party. Your curious children persuade you to attend, hoping the festivities will lift your sorrow.

Lucas/Lucia Bertham, the family's charming heir, bonds with your children and seems to understand you in a way others cannot. But will secrets regarding their family's future prevent love?

Azra Hays arrives, a traveling storyteller with a gift for magic in their words that soothes your soul. Gardner Isaac Hill has loved you in silence, finding joy through your children's smiles.

More suitors await too - brilliant sculptor Zephyr Langston, whose art mirrors your heart, and Doctor Henry Bellman, who ministers to the people with patience and good humor.

As festivities crescendo with masques, fireworks and more, you start to believe in love and laughter again. But which person holds your whole heart? And will dark forces from the past destroy this new paradise you’ve begun to build?

The summer promises intrigue, blessings, and maybe a sweet romance if you can let go of history and embrace the gifts of tomorrow.

Customise your character as well as your children’s

Choose where you live and how you dress

Your choices have an impact on how society reacts to you!

Uncover secrets from your past!

Pursuing different ROs with varying levels of affection leads to unique story endings that resolve the mystery

Lucas/Lucia Bertham (m/f/nb)

The Heir, 26, Lucas/Lucia Bertham is the only child and heir to the prestigious title and lands of Bertham. They are a successful businessperson, but relish returning to their ancestral home each summer. While other young people prefer to travel abroad, they prefer the simple pleasures of country life. They take their duty as head of the manor seriously, helping tenants with an approachable demeanor. Though destined to marry well for station one day, they remain single and enjoy lively flirtations. While others dance at balls, they are the happiest hosting gatherings under the stars or riding alongside farm laborers by day. Lucas/Lucia lights up any room with their charm, wit and easy smiles. But is there a lonely heart searching for more beneath this carefree facade? As always, only time will tell what develops between Lucas/Lucia and you over the magical summer months at Bertham.

Isaac Hill(m)

The Gardner, 35, Isaac Hill has lived and worked on your estate for years. His strong, weather-worn hands coax beauty from the soil. Gardenings comes naturally to gentle-souled Isaac, as does his way with any creature in need of care. The expansive gardens are his pride and joy, a wonderland open for all to enjoy. Despite his huge build, muscular arms and calloused palms, his demeanor remains soft-spoken yet self-assured. While most village maidens sigh for officers or heirs, Isaac's gentle soul and way with children has turned many a head. But he remains devoted to coaxing new life from the earth, finding solace in small things. Perhaps amid the Bertham's blossoms, Isaac's own heart may bud anew this summer as well.

Zephyr Langston(m/f/nb)

The Sculptor, 27, Zephyr Langston hails from one of London's most prestigious arts families. Though young, their sculptures have already gained fame across England. While many London soirees vie for their presence, Zephyr relishes escaping to the countryside each summer. Using moody landscapes as inspiration, they work tirelessly to capture fleeting emotions in stone. Some say their sculptures are too sensually lifelike, but the Berthams proudly collect their edgy works. Zephyr charms salon attendees but remains unmarried, focused solely on their "passionate mistress," their art. Though prone to brooding moody spells while working, they come alive at parties with a playful wit. Could this summer be when they find inspiration of the heart as well as hands among the Bertham estate's rolling hills?

Henry Bellman(m)

The Doctor, 29, though young, he runs the village medical practice with a maturity beyond his years. What he lacks in words, Henry more than makes up for with his compassionate bedside manner. He listens with steady brown eyes that seem to see into patients' very souls. While others chat idly, Henry prefers observing life unfold with subtle calm. An avid reader, he's as learned as any university man but without pretense. More than one farmer's daughter has blushed starry-eyed receiving his attentions, yet he remains a bachelor focused solely on his work. The Berthams value Lucas greatly for his discretion and healing touch. But does his solemn façade hide deeper passions waiting to emerge? As always, only time will tell what mysteries lie beneath the calm exterior of Doctor Henry Bellman, and what intrigues he may stir in your heart this season.

Azra Hays(m/f/nb)

The Storyteller, 27, Azra Hays is a free spirit , with mischievous eyes like the summer sky. While others settle, Azra is happiest wandering the countryside in their worn boots, flute in hand.They’re a jack of all trades but lives for their art - spinning spellbinding tales that transport listeners far from their daily toils. With their easy smile and flirty manner, Azra charms all they meet. Yet beneath this bohemian exterior beats a kind and generous heart, always helping travelers in need. An orphan from youth, they never take their freedom or talents for granted. Azra makes their coin sharing folklore, gossip and bawdy jokes in villages along their route. But they save their most magical stories for moonlit campfires, weaving magic that leaves audiences in awe. Some say their nose for intrigue could even rival the Sherlock Holmes tales. Will Azra linger longer this year among Bertham's gardens and party revelries? Is there feeling breeding beyond friendship beneath Azra's roguish charm? As always, only time will tell the true depth of bonds woven beneath the summer stars.

#interactive fiction #no demo #twine game #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #twine story #twine if #wip #status: wip

307 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

Only Mine

Mafia leader!yandere OC x Y/N

Summary: you're falling apart and the only one that can help you is the very same mafia leader that caused you this fright. You refuse to ask him for help. But when you get desperate, you seem to have no other choice.

Warnings: threats, manipulation, slightest hint of suggestive, mentions of death, possessiveness

Word count: 0.8k

The nights when you can't sleep are the worst. You hate the feeling that grow in your chest everytime it happens. You need someone's arms around you to avoid you falling apart. Bits and pieces of you are flaking off, fragments falling to the wooden floor. What happens if you wait too long? Will there be nothing left of you? What shell is it thats falling off? The one that resists Silas? Or the one that makes you, you. Whatever part of you it is, you don't want to lose it. You'll have to call for him.

Shakily you pull yourself out of the comforting satin sheets and head for the door. Trying to open it is no use. It's locked. However, you know that there are two guards on the other side. Silas has your safety on the top of his priority lists. He's an odd character you can't understand. Maybe you don't want to. Instead, you knock gently, regretting it right away. Too late to back out now.

"Yes, miss?" one of the guards asks as he meets your pleading, shameful eyes.

"I-I ...", you start, but close your mouth again. Your cheeks burn.

"Are you alright?" the other guard asks

"I need to see Silas."

"You can't, the boss is in a meeting-"

Panic starts to fill your body. You have to see Silas! Who knows how long you have until every piece of you have disappeared? It's pathetic and you know it, but you can't stop it. Your fogged up mind needs someone to hold before you break and the only one you know in this house is Silas. Those weeks down in the basement really messed you up.

"I have to meet him!" you raise your voice.

"That isn't possible."

You try pushing yourself through the two unreasonable men. They grab you and push you back. You're not going to leave the bedroom. Their fingers bury in your skin.

"Let me go!" you shout. "Don't touch me!"

"Get back in your room now-"

"What's going on here?"

The voice makes the three of them look towards the end of the corridor. Silas is walking towards them like a giant. His body language alone is enough to frighten them.

"Let my girl go or I'll cut your hands off", Silas warns them.

They let you go at once. You stumble backwards and start walking back into the bedroom. You run your hand through your hair and take a deep breath. Silas pushes through into the bedroom, giving the guards a nasty look. He closes the door behind him, muttering something about them not going to live long. You suddenly feel bad and that your own worries doesn't matter as much. It suddenly feels so stupid to risk the guards lives just because you're a pathetic little bitch.

"What happened, baby?" the mafia leader asks and walk over to you. "Why did you need me?"

"I just feel ... lonely ... I guess ...", you mutter. "But now I kind of regret it all. You're not actually going to hurt them, right?"

"Of course I will. They laid their filthy hands on you."

"They tried to stop me from leaving the room you told me to stay in."

Silas sighs and rolls his eyes. You sit down on the bed and tilt your head slightly, finding it amusing how he can't take his own words.

"Don't look at me like that, little girl unless you want to end up in the basement again", he warns.

You look down in your lap again and swallow. Silas walk over to you and sink down on his knees in front of you. He leans his head on your knees and looks up at you.

"What did you want?" he asks with a playful hint in his eyes. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Have you finally come to your senses?"

"That was not it."

"It wasn't?"

He seems genuinly surprised. You fumble over your words. Why would he think ...?

"I want a hug", you say.

"A hug? That's easy."

He stands up and embraces you in his strong arms. You hate how he makes you feel at ease for now, hate how he's gotten into your head. You lean your head against his shoulder. Tomorrow, you'll resent him again, you promise yourself. But for tonight, you need him close to fill the horrifying void in your heart. Tomorrow, you'll come to your senses.

"My pretty girl", he murmurs against your hair. "Only mine. Say it. Say that you're only mine."

"I'm only yours", you whisper, not believing your own words but say them to avoid pain.

"And the fuckers that try to take you from me will be heavily punished. No one touches what's mine. Look at you, so sweet and fragile. I knew I made a right choice taking you." He caresses your hair. "Just sleep, baby. I will hold you."

And that's where you fall asleep that night. You hope it'll be the last time you fall asleep in his arms, but you know it won't. Now that he's understood that you need him for something else rather than pleasure, he will make sure to treasure you like you were his own little porcelain doll. Only safe in his arms.

#yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere talks #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere x oc #yandere x you #yandere mafia #yandere x reader #yandere short stories #yandere fiction #yandere fic #yandere fluff #Silas OC

2K notes · View notes

idyllic-ghost · 5 months

Text

title: A Whisper from the Forest pairing: lumberjack!Jihoon x dryad(tree nymph)!reader genre: fantasy/magical realism, romance/fluff, smut, angst warnings: slight angst, smut, penetration, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, body worship synopsis: When two lonely hearts meet, even under the strangest of circumstances, they bond with each other in a unique way. And as the weather grows cold, and as we seek warmth in the form of another’s embrace, we tend to seek those bonds out with more desperation. So when Jihoon - a solitary lumberjack living on the outskirts of a small town - finds himself enthralled with a fairytale creature of the forest, he doesn’t hesitate to let himself be held and loved. And who are you to deny him that love when it is all you want as well? wordcount: 11k tagging: @gyuwoncheol, @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag

a/n: this is a collab with @svthub ! see the Fall-ing For You Collab here!! this will also be the last thing i post before i go on my indefinite hiatus!

join my taglist

MDNI

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Take a moment. Breathe in the cold air, smell the trees and the wet moss. Put your hand in the icy water of the river, and feel it thread through your fingers - trying to pull you with the stream. Take a moment, and clear your head. Whisper out a silent prayer for good luck for the rest of the day. Jihoon always takes everything day by day. Each morning is the same, but he would never think to do it differently. He stands up from where he was crouching by the river, looking up to the tops of the pine trees surrounding him. They seem to reach an abnormal length from where he was standing, but he knows better than to not let his mind be tricked by a single perspective. The sky was still tinted pink and orange from the sunrise. Waking up in the early hours of the morning was worth it for these small moments.

The barking coming from his family’s old cabin signals that Duke is ready for breakfast. An involuntary smile spread across his lips as he trudged towards the house. Without having to look down, Jihoon knew where to step and where to avoid putting his feet. After all these years he knew where the trees spread their roots and where the ground tended to turn softer after rainfall. The barking continued, sometimes followed by a howl, and Jihoon’s steps quickened. Making his way up the stone steps, which he put down himself, he could hear the pitter-patter of eager paws walking on the wooden patio. Duke had managed to open the door by himself again and was now running down the stairs to meet his owner. The brown labrador had his mouth wide open, in what almost looked like a smile, and his ears flopping back on his head due to the speed he had managed to pick up. When they collided, Jihoon let out a loud groan. Not even this was unusual to his daily routine, and he managed to stay stable despite the sixty-pound canine throwing himself at him.

“Are you hungry, bud?” Jihoon scratched the dog behind his ear, which satisfied him enough to stand still for a while. “Let’s make some breakfast, alright?”

Most of the trees outside of Jihoon’s, now fogged-up, windows were pine. There were a few leafy trees here and there, sticking out like a sore thumb due to their red and orange color, but his main source of wood was pine. Which is why his fireplace always had the faint smell of it. The steam coming from his pan was making the entire kitchen stuffy, and he was reminded once again that he had to fix his hood fan. And while the issue could be temporarily fixed by opening a window, it wasn’t ideal as the season grew colder.

Duke was eating his kibble but was temporarily interrupted by Jihoon putting a slice of bacon in his bowl as well. He didn’t seem to mind the interruption and happily continued while Jihoon went to sit down at the table. It was a small mahogany table, perfect for one. The carvings on the legs were uneven, a show of his craftsmanship. On the table laid the morning newspaper, which he had picked up before getting to making breakfast. It wasn’t incredibly interesting, but it was nice to keep up with the things that happened in the town. Jihoon lived right on the outskirts, like a hermit of sorts, and only drove his truck into town when he had to make a delivery or get something for himself. He had a small garden behind the cabin and if it was necessary he could go out into the forest and hunt, although he would rather not, so he didn’t visit many times. Maybe once a month for deliveries and to stock up on food. Most of the time he was alone right by the mountainside, in the middle of the woods. He didn’t mind being alone, and seeing as he had Duke he wasn’t necessarily lonely. Being in the town made him feel more lonely than ever. He could see his old classmates with new friends, random strangers going on dates, or families gathering together in mom-and-pop restaurants. Avoiding the town made him feel less lonely. Sometimes he’d think about what life would have looked like if he had followed his parents’ advice, to not take over the family business and try to get out in the world instead. For his own sake. But he felt a certain pride for the cabin, and the woods surrounding it.

The feeling of Duke licking his leg brought him out of his thoughts. Jihoon bent down and petted his dog’s head.

“At least I have you.” Jihoon sighed.

Duke gave him a look that seemed sympathetic, and although he knew that the dog couldn’t understand him it still gave Jihoon an ounce of comfort. He looked out of the window again. The sun had started rising above the trees now. It was time to start work.

Just as every other day, he went out into the woods with Duke and marked trees that needed to be cut down. These trees were on their way to wither away, or it was the town that had asked him to cut them down to create an easy access path. Jihoon didn’t like to cut down young trees, or trees that had no reason to be cut down. It felt like he was stealing from the forest and the wildlife. Maybe he wasn’t entirely cut out for this line of work. He usually disregarded those thoughts and kept doing it his way. Jihoon would also frequently plant new trees. As soon as the ground had thawed and turned soft after winter, he would buy new saplings to plant. That’s why you could see a lot of different trees in this forest, which otherwise was only pine. He, and the people before him, had planted them there.

After marking the trees with orange paint, he would go back to the cabin and cut up trees that he had already collected. A pile of empty tree trunks lay beside the cabin. Jihoon always cut off the twigs and branches and gathered them in bundles to use as firewood. This was the thing he made the most sales on. The bundles of twigs and branches were cheaper than the full logs. Even though the logs lasted longer in the fireplace, people would rather buy more of something cheap than invest in the logs. Jihoon didn’t mind - the money he got from those twigs put food on his table. But it was irritating at times when people refused to see that they could be much better off. Then again, maybe it was just irritating that no one asked for his opinion on the one thing that he knew anything about.

Towards the end of the afternoon, Duke was aching to go out on another walk. And as they always did, they picked a random direction to walk in and started their exploring. The forest was mapped out, of course, but it was a lot different to explore it with your own two feet - and Jihoon was sure that he still hadn’t walked in every place of the forest, even though he grew up in it. South of the cabin laid a small river, which he knew very well but hadn’t spent much time walking with. He had crossed the river and explored the edge of the mountain on the other side, but he hadn’t walked upstream. Duke seemed happy enough about the choice, wagging his tail and frolicking across the rocks and fallen trees.

The river wasn’t frozen, but it certainly felt like it when Jihoon put his hand in the water, and pulled it out quickly. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and tried to hide his hands in his sleeves. He should have brought gloves, it always came as an afterthought at this time of year - no matter how many times he had experienced it. The tip of his nose was numb, but his feet were sweating in the thick pair of socks he was wearing. It didn’t help that he had brought out his winter boots. Jihoon wondered how it could be that Duke didn’t seem cold at all. His fur wasn’t very thick, yet he didn’t have a problem with dipping his paw in the freezing river and walking on. Of course, he knew better than to jump in, which he didn’t do as a puppy. But over the years, Duke came to understand that if he jumped in the water when it was cold outside it meant that playtime was over. He had yet to learn about running off whenever he saw something interesting.

Jihoon knows that he should keep his dog on a leash when exploring new areas. Duke was well-behaved when he was in a familiar climate, but he always got too excited when seeing something new. So when he ran away from the river, in a random direction, it shouldn’t have surprised Jihoon as much as it did. The owner followed his happy dog to a glade that he had yet to see. The glade was of monumental size, and it bewildered Jihoon that he hadn’t found this yet. In the middle of this open space, stood an old apple tree. He wasn’t knowledgeable about different kinds of apple trees, but Jihoon did know that a few kinds of apples didn’t ripen until late autumn. Duke hurried to the tree, and Jihoon followed with long strides.

“Stop!” he shouted out in vain.

There was something about the tree that had Duke transfixed. Jihoon couldn’t blame him, even though he was mesmerized by the tree. He hadn’t seen any fruit trees in the forest before. Although he had planned on planting some outside his house, he had never gotten around to it. The grand space surrounding the apple tree was strange as well. You would think that this space would be filled with tree saplings by now. Even more strange, Jihoon couldn’t remember a large glade such as this one on any map he had ever studied of the forest.

Duke was running around the tree trunk and rolling around on the flourishing grass. Jihoon closed in on the tree with weary steps. The tree wasn’t long, but it was thick and its branches spread out wide. It was the kind of tree that every child would want to climb on, so despite its old age, it felt youthful. The bark mirrored the river in its flowing motions. He had the urge to reach out his hand and trace the ridges but held himself back. The leaves were bright and green, and the fruit sat in clumps on the branches - weighing them down to hang lower than they otherwise would. Jihoon could reach out and grab a shiny red apple if he so pleased, but he decided not to. They looked delicious, mostly red with a few green splotches, and although he didn’t have much knowledge about apples, Jihoon knew that they were ripe for harvesting.

It was hard to leave the glade, something pulled Jihoon back into its warm embrace. But he knew that he had to get home and feed Duke - let alone himself. Duke had problems leaving too, but his stomach also seemed to push him over the edge eventually. When Jihoon looked back at the tree, it almost looked like it had turned and reached out for him. But he knew that that would be impossible.

That night Jihoon dreamt of the glade. The forest around him was a blur, and all he could see was the apple tree. It beckoned him in a swaying motion, calling his name. He walked slowly to the tree, but despite his leisurely steps he still ended up by the tree within seconds. The wind was calm, barely there even - he couldn’t quite tell where his skin ended and the air began. He reached out and touched the bark. The rough-looking bark felt smooth under his calloused palms. It was damp as if it had just been raining, but not in the way that water could make wood feel almost slimy. It just felt fresh. Jihoon closed the distance between himself and the tree, putting his cheek against the bark. With his ear against the tree, he could hear a faint heartbeat. He took a shaky breath and looked up at the crown of the tree. Right above him hung a red apple - he had never seen an apple so ruby red, so perfectly shaped and colored. On instinct, he reached for it, plucked it, and brought it to his lips without hesitation. His hot breath fogged up the shiny apple. Was he allowed to take a bite? Jihoon could hear the heartbeat from the tree without even leaning against it. It was beating faster. His lips parted slowly, and his teeth dug into the skin of the fruit. Juices flooded his mouth, sweet and heavenly, and dripped down his chin. The juice from the apple dribbled down his jaw, down his torso - it felt like a finger tracing his skin, and it left a trail of goosebumps down his body. The flesh of the fruit tasted like honey, and when he had taken one bite he couldn’t stop himself from taking another. His teeth dug into the apple like a hungry animal that had finally caught its prey. Suddenly, Jihoon could feel a pair of hands rubbing his back. The person’s breath fanned against his neck.

“Come back to me.” It was a woman’s voice, as sweet as the apple Jihoon just ate.

In mere seconds, everything was taken away from him. The taste of the apple, the feeling of the tree, the woman’s voice - they, and even the memory of them, were all gone when Jihoon woke up. All that was left from the dream was an innate longing to go back to the glade. He thought about it all day. His body went on auto-pilot to commit to all of his chores, but his mind was in the glade. There was something special about the place, it felt like it had taken a part of him and kept it as hostage. So when the time came for Duke’s afternoon walk, Jihoon took the lead and walked the same path they had the day before. And much like the day before, his dog ran off at a random point during the walk. However, today it seemed to be in a different area altogether and yet Jihoon ended up in that same glade.

The apple tree stood tall, its apples almost golden in the light of the sun. Jihoon hurried over, tripping over roots and other such things on the way. It didn’t matter if he fell, there was something about the tree that made dirtying his clothes and scraping his knees worth it. As he approached the tree, it welcomed him. It looked like it took a sigh of relief when it could feel his presence again. In bits and pieces, the dream came back to him. Jihoon pressed his ear to the tree, but he couldn’t hear a heartbeat. He felt a little foolish and backed away from the tree. Duke had laid down beside it, putting his head on one of its large roots, and looked at Jihoon judgingly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jihoon huffed and turned back to the tree. “Dreams make people do weird things sometimes.”

As Jihoon looked a little closer at the tree, it started changing. Twisting and turning its body, as if it was stretching after sitting down for long, and moving its branches, like someone moving their joints. The leaves rustled and a few apples fell. Right in front of his eyes, the tree was turning into a woman. As the tree kept turning and bending in all kinds of ways, it was also changing its very form. The body was shaped with curves and edges, the leaves turned into hair, and the bark turned into skin. The woman groaned as her transformation was complete - taking a single step before falling to the ground. Jihoon hurried to her side, kneeling to see that she was alright. She wasn’t all human, her body still looked like it was made of bark and leaves in most places of her body, but she definitely wasn’t just a tree anymore. Without so much as an explanation as to what she was, the tree-woman sat up and wiggled around her limbs - like someone trying to get life back in their foot after it had fallen asleep.

“Are you alright?” Jihoon stuttered out.

“I think so.” The tree-woman looked up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you came back.”

She stood up and walked over to Duke, who usually growled at strangers but was now as happy as ever. Jihoon watched her interact with his dog, petting him and talking to him - not in a baby voice like most people do with dogs, but in a tone that indicated that Duke was talking back.

“I’ll tell him.” She nodded, stood up from where she was crouching, and turned to Jihoon. “He says it’s time to go home, he’s hungry.”

“Uhm…” Jihoon looked between the tree-woman and his dog. “Okay.”

Duke ran up to his side happily, and the tree-woman looked content. She walked over to where her tree once stood and picked up one of the apples that had fallen to the ground. When she handed it to him, Jihoon took the apple with little to no hesitation.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’ve been called a lot of things…” She pondered for some time before adding. “You can call me Y/N.”

Jihoon nodded. He didn’t feel like he needed to tell her his name, something told him that she already knew. Without another word, she wandered off in a random direction. Despite seemingly choosing at random, she also looked like she knew exactly where she was going. Jihoon headed in the opposite direction, back home.

The journey back home was faster than yesterday, and yet when he arrived he saw the tree-woman standing beside his house. She was looking at the piles of lumber in Jihoon’s backyard. When she saw that he had arrived, he expected her to look angry. However, his assumptions were incorrect, as she smiled instead.

“How did you…”

“Welcome home,” she said.

“Thank you?” Jihoon looked around himself, trying to find a way that this woman could get to his house before him. “How did you get here so fast?”

She ignored his question and began walking up the stairs, looking down at him expectantly with every other step. Duke didn’t hesitate to follow her to the front door of the house. Jihoon eventually followed and, even though it went against all of his instincts, let the woman inside his house. A trail of leaves and small pieces of bark trailed behind her as she walked toward the couch. She laid down and closed her eyes, not uttering a single excuse as to what she was doing there. Jihoon draped a blanket around her. The apple she had given him was placed on the kitchen counter, going untouched for the rest of the day.

Jihoon couldn’t fall asleep that night. Partially because there was a stranger in his house, which he couldn’t bring himself to kick out, but also because of an excitement that was growing in his chest - a feeling that not even the most skilled of stoics could deny. There was something about this woman, about Y/N, that had his body completely tensed up and intoxicated. Like a kid before Christmas morning, Jihoon couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, go to sleep. He laid in bed, tossing and turning, trying to drown out his own thoughts by forcing himself to think about other things. These feelings were entirely too embarrassing for him to feel, was what Jihoon had convinced himself had to be the truth.

That morning, when Jihoon walked into his kitchen, he caught a glimpse of the tree-woman’s naked figure - barely draped in the blanket that Jihoon had given her last night. There were no signs of her being a tree anymore. Her skin was cleared from patches of bark, and her hair didn’t have leaves stuck in it. The only reason Jihoon knew that he hadn’t dreamt the entire thing, was the piles of leaves and tree remains on his carpet. It reminded him of when Duke started shedding more than usual, the way it seemed to stick to every surface of the room. Y/N noticed him and turned her body towards him, not caring that the blanket covered absolutely nothing. Jihoon quickly turned around in a flustered frenzy.

“Sorry-” He coughed to try to cover the crack in his voice.

“It’s okay,” she hummed. “I don’t mind.”

She sounded almost surprised at his reaction, as if it was normal of her to walk around naked and for others to see her like that. Jihoon heard shuffling behind him, slow and careful movements.

“I’ll cover up if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said.

Jihoon turned slowly to look at her again. The blanket was wrapped over her head and tightly around her frame, hiding every inch of her skin except her face. She looked at him expectantly, but he wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Maybe a thank you or for him to assure her that it was alright. But no words left Jihoon’s lips, he just stared into her eyes. He had to force himself to look away.

“I should get you clothes…” He walked back towards his bedroom. “Wait here.”

The two of them ate breakfast together - Jihoon ate a non-meat breakfast for the first time since he could remember, just in case it would somehow offend her if he didn’t. Y/N kept her eyes on the window, watching the rain fall heavily on the mossy ground, but Jihoon couldn’t get his eyes off of her. It was scary how normal she looked, when she had just barely twelve hours ago looked like an actual tree. It was like something out of the fantasy books he used to read when he was young. Just twelve hours ago she was covered in colorful leaves and bumpy bark, and now she looked like any other woman - wearing one of his flannel shirts. The only reason he knew that he hadn’t been dreaming was the trail of her old self covering all of the living room. Instead of dwelling too much on it, Jihoon simply welcomed her company - despite the rational part of his brain screaming at him that this was not normal.

It seemed like it was never going to stop raining. Although rain had never stopped Jihoon before, he decided that it meant that he had to stay home with Y/N. After breakfast, she sat down on the living room floor and played with Duke. She had a strange instant connection with him, which Jihoon had never seen Duke have with anyone else. While the two of them played, Jihoon did the dishes - occasionally stopping to look back at the adorable scene playing out just as he had imagined before. He hadn’t imagined it with Y/N, of course, but just with someone. He had dreamed of bringing someone home and living a domestic life with them in this cabin. As mundane as it sounded, Jihoon longed to get to make breakfast for someone and wash their dishes - he wanted to hand them a cup of coffee in the morning, just as they got out of bed, and kiss their cheek as a silent way to say “good morning”. Jihoon smiled to himself as he pictured it in front of him, now with you as that someone. The thoughts quickly disappeared as he felt a tapping on his shoulder. Y/N and Duke were standing right behind him, both of them looking at him expectantly. It reminded him of how Duke would sit quietly beside him as soon as he started rustling with plastic.

“Duke says that he wants to play outside,” she said.

“What?”

“Can we?” she asks as if she needed his permission to do so. “I won’t take him out too far- and we’ll be back soon.”

Jihoon looked at her, and then out the window. It was still raining. When he looked down at Duke, he was still sitting perfectly still with a pleading look in his eye. He looked back at Y/N, who had the same look in her eyes.

“But it’s raining.” Jihoon pointed at the window.

“Rain is not a bad thing,” she said, “And definitely not a reason to stay inside.”

Duke barked, gaining Jihoon’s attention again. They both looked set in their decision. How could Jihoon say no to that?

“I mean, sure.” Jihoon looked between the two of them. “I’ll finish the dishes.”

Jihoon watched them run around like fools from his window. She was building up piles of leaves for Duke to jump in, and throwing sticks for him to fetch. Duke was normally a reserved dog around strangers, but she seemed to have him wrapped around her little finger. Where she ran, he followed. They were both soaked when they came back inside - but Y/N was still smiling and Duke’s tail was still wagging back and forth. Jihoon handed Y/N a towel, before helping Duke dry off.

“I’m freezing…” Y/N giggled through chattering teeth.

“I could make a fire,” Jihoon suggested cautiously. “If that’s… okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because…” Jihoon had no idea how to phrase it. “The wood?”

“I have no connection to trees that have died, if that’s what you’re asking.” She shrugged off the, now wet, flannel shirt, making Jihoon look away from her quickly. “I know that you only take the trees that have already died, you know? You don’t have to be nervous… Do you have another one of these that I can wear?”

“... closet,” Jihoon mumbled, his ears glowing red.

She thanked him before leaving. Jihoon felt like a teenager again. He shouldn’t get this flustered by the silhouette of a naked woman in the corner of his eyes. Duke whined, and Jihoon realized that he had stopped drying him off. He muttered an apology to the dog, and continued drying him off.

Y/N came back out of his room just a few minutes later with new clothes on - an old sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants - and holding a book in her hands. It was dusty from sitting on his bookshelf for ages. She showed him the cover, it was a book about forest creatures.

“What’s this?”

“A book from my childhood,” he hummed and took the book from her hands. “I forgot that I still had this.”

She sat down on the couch and patted on the place beside her. The fire was already burning in the fireplace, so Jihoon did as she wanted and sat down. Although Duke wasn’t normally allowed on the couch, he jumped up and laid his head in Y/N’s lap.

“Read to me,” she said.

Jihoon opened the book. The text was big, and there were lots of pictures, so it wasn’t a long read. And yet, they sat there for hours. Y/N was pointing at things, either laughing or explaining what the creatures really looked like. It surprised Jihoon that all of his childhood fantasies were true. The amount of times he had gone into the woods looking for these creatures, and they might have actually been there right under his nose. Not all of it was real, but the fact that any of it, even such a small portion, was real was enough for him. When they got to the page about dryads, tree nymphes, she went quiet. Jihoon cleared his throat and kept reading.

“Dryad…” He paused before reading the next sentence. “A nymph or nature spirit who lives in trees and takes the form of a beautiful young woman.”

Y/N looked at the picture, tracing the drawing’s figure with her fingers. Jihoon studied her expression, trying to find even the smallest inkling to what she was thinking. Her face was a blank canvas.

“Do you think I look like that?” she asked.

“Not really… they’ve got a few things right, I suppose.” He looked closer at the picture.

“... am I beautiful?”

Her words took the air out of his lungs. How was he supposed to answer that? He immediately started overthinking, and having her stare at his flustered face didn’t help. When he faced her, his mouth dried out. She was looking at him with big glittering eyes, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said.

She smiled, pleased with his answer, and turned to focus on the book again. Jihoon kept his eyes on her as she flipped the page, laughing at the next picture as soon as she laid eyes on it. His heart flipped in his ribcage, and he began nervously fidgeting with the corner of the book.

“Read this one!”

The next morning, the rain had stopped. There was a slight chill in the air, but not enough to create frost and not enough to keep Jihoon inside yet another day. He took Duke out for his walk, and Y/N followed. She was wrapped up in Jihoon’s winter coat, as he had insisted. Duke was running ahead of them, even though he had seen this part of the forest at least a hundred times already, and Jihoon and Y/N took their time strolling down the path. Questions were itching in the back of Jihoon’s mind, and walking in silence didn’t help. So, even though he knew that he maybe shouldn’t, he asked.

“Could I ask a few questions?” he asked, and quickly added, “About you?”

“Go ahead.”

She didn’t look at him, but she was smiling. It was as if she had expected it to happen at this particular moment.

“How…” Jihoon had a million questions running through his mind all at once, and just had to settle on one. “How do you know me?”

“You work in the forest,” she said. “So do I.”

“... and what is it that you do?”

“I keep it alive.” She finally turned to him. “I keep it in harmony. This forest is me, just as much as I am it. I have to protect it.”

“From people like me?”

“Not exactly…” She sighed and turned away from him again, slowing down her steps. “Humans are also a part of the forest, if we take people like you out of it then we can’t have harmony. It is the people who go out of their way to disrespect my home that I have to be cautious of.”

Jihoon nodded. He understood, he had seen the trash laying in bushes and the people who try to hunt even when it’s not the season. A feeling of relief washed over him when he understood that she wasn’t there to haunt him in some way.

“I thought that you’d remember me,” she murmured.

“Remember you?”

“I met you many years ago. You were… tiny.” Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. “I had only just taken over the forest, and I found you crying. You were lost, so I helped you back.”

Jihoon had a faint memory of getting lost for the first time. Despite his parents having told him to stay still and hug a tree, he couldn’t help but follow the tiny whirlwind of leaves that eventually led him out of the forest. He didn’t mention this to Y/N, he wasn’t sure how to.

“You’re bigger now,” she commented. “It feels a bit strange to see.”

“What? That I’ve grown up?”

“Yeah… to be fair, I wasn’t very big then either but…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you’d stay tiny.”

Jihoon let out a choked laugh, which made her smile. He loved to make her smile, it felt like seeing the sun peak out of the clouds after a heavy storm.

Jihoon started spending more and more time with Y/N. The only time he wasn’t with her was when he was making deliveries, or out getting food. Being isolated for so long made even the strangest companions welcome. He had made a temporary home for her in his room, opting to sleep on a spare bed that he used to give to guests. It was creaky and uncomfortable, so it was out of the question for him to give it to her. She was practically a goddess, he couldn’t give her an old guest bed. Every day was filled with laughter, something that Jihoon hadn’t experienced in a while. His face would light up every time she walked into his line of vision, and he was sure she noticed.

One day, during their afternoon walk, Jihoon found himself walking the same path that he had about a week ago - when he first saw the glade. He didn’t think much of it, he was just following Duke. But even when his dog wanted to go in a different direction, his legs insisted on following the familiar route. Y/N didn’t say anything. Her arm was wrapped around his, looking at the ground to make sure that she didn’t step on something. It was only when they had entered the glade that she acknowledged it.

“We’re back here?” She hummed in slight surprise.

The glade looked the same, except there was no apple tree anymore. In the place where she had stood was a spot where no grass would grow. You could say that the grass wouldn’t grow because it was nearing winter, but Jihoon knew that even if it was a warm summer day there wouldn’t grow any grass on that patch.

“I guess we are…” Jihoon looked around. “Do you want to leave?”

“No,” she said. “Let’s go sit down.”

They sat down on the grass, right in front of the bare patch. The ground was cold, and Jihoon wished that he had brought along a blanket to lay down under them. Y/N didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m glad that Duke helped you find this place,” she said, “Otherwise I don’t think I’d ever meet you.”

Jihoon looked over at Duke, who was running around the glade.

“He helped me here?”

“I called on him, yes.” She put her hand on his knee. “I wanted to see you.”

Jihoon thought about the dream, and if she could possibly have anything to do with it. He looked at her, watched her lean her head against his shoulder, and decided that he had to ask - he needed to know.

“I had a dream that night…” he started and turned his head away from her. “After I had been here the first time.”

“Hm?”

“I dreamt that I was in the glade, and I ate an apple.” Jihoon could feel her staring at him. “And I think you called out to me… to come back.”

“You ate the apple?” She said it in a tone that Jihoon couldn’t quite place, he didn’t know if she was sad, or angry, or just surprised.

“Yeah… was that bad?”

“No! No, not at all.” She laughed, Jihoon was yet again reminded of silverbells. “Before I became the protector of this forest, I lived with other dryads… they would always tell a story about fruit trees, that those who ate our fruit had promised themselves to us in some way… it’s a silly story, but to some it’s seen as a promise of devotion.”

“Devotion?”

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” She turned to look at him with a smile, which faded when she saw his serious expression.

“No, I don’t think so.”

A million thoughts were racing through Jihoon’s head, but they all quieted down when Y/N moved closer to him. He could feel her breath against his lips. His eyes drifted down to her lips, his hand moved to cup her cheek. As he moved even closer her eyes fluttered shut. Their lips met; it was a short kiss. Her lips were soft, and the feeling of them lingered on Jihoon’s lips. In his stomach, butterflies started flying around. Her skin was so soft under his calloused palm. Her hands reached for the back of his head, and pulled him in for another kiss. Their lips locked, and Jihoon began feeling warm all over - forgetting about how he had just complained about the cold ground. Her fingers were in his hair, gently caressing his scalp. She tasted like honey, reminding him of how the apple in his dream had tasted. He grew greedy, trying to get closer to her. However, his attempt failed and they both fell to the ground - him on top of her.

“Shit, I’m sorry-”

She was laughing. His face turned red, before realizing that she wasn’t laughing at him. He let out a faint chuckle, which was followed by more laughter. Once he had gotten up, he helped her up as well - she was still giggling, but he had a feeling that it was more from excitement rather than the fact that they fell over.

“I’m sorry for laughing,” she said.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Jihoon took her hand, and she quickly intertwined her fingers with his.

“Are you ready to head home?”

That night, Y/N asked him if he would sleep in the bed with her. Her reasoning was that she knew the guest bed was uncomfortable, but Jihoon didn’t care about explanations or excuses. He welcomed spending a night holding her, even when his arm grew numb from being under her for so long. Nothing more than sleeping happened, but Jihoon still woke up with the feeling that he had crossed a line that he couldn’t go back from.

Y/N was still sleeping when Jihoon got out of bed. He went into the kitchen, prepared to make something for the both of them. The apple that she had given to him the first day she met was hiding behind his kettle. He must have forgotten that it was there. Despite it having gone a week since then, the apple looked the same. It hadn’t aged at all. Jihoon looked back at the closed door to the bedroom, and thought about what Y/N had said. Devotion. Jihoon brought his lips to the apple and took a bite. It was as sweet as he remembered.

Another couple days had passed since they kissed. Neither of them talked about it, or repeated the action, but the air around them had changed. Every accidental touch held much more weight than it used to. Everytime her fingers would brush over his, it would leave his hand with a burning sensation. Everytime he glanced at her lips, his ears would turn red. It was no secret that he had fallen in love with her, and not acknowledging it was making it worse.

It was getting dark outside, partly because of the sun going down but also because of the rainclouds that were coming their way. Duke had taken his place in Jihoon’s bedroom, refusing to come out of his fluffy dog bed. It was no surprise, since he had been running around in the cold all day. But with him absent, it made the air between Jihoon and Y/N even thicker. When it started raining, Jihoon was relieved to hear Y/N suggest that they go outside. Maybe a bit of cold rain was just what he needed. The two of them ran outside, not bothering with putting on coats or better clothes. Y/N ran around on the cold grass, but Jihoon looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes and let the rain just fall on him. He only looked around himself when he heard laughter - silver bells.

“What?” he asked.

“You always look so stoic.” She grinned. “You should have more fun, you know?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A wide grin appeared on Jihoon’s face, and he began chasing her. She ran as fast as she could on the slippery grass, letting out a shrill scream as he captured her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her up.

“Is this what you mean by fun?” he huffed.

She only laughed in response, kicking to try to get him to put her down. When he did, they took a moment to breathe. They were both panting, completely soaked through from the rain, and couldn’t break eye contact with each other. As their laughter died down, Jihoon wrapped his arms around her again - now more gentle.

“You ate the apple.” She put her hands on his chest.

Jihoon went quiet, but nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her. She must have been the one that put it behind the kettle - maybe a way to see if he would take it.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know…” He sighed. “I thought about what you said… about devotion.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would do anything for you.” Any rational thinking had escaped him, he needed to speak his mind. “I want to be… I am devoted to you. I haven’t felt this strongly about anything in years.”

Y/N’s hands creeped up his chest and her arms wrapped around his neck. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek… then to his other cheek. Her nose brushed his, waiting for him to take the final step to kiss her. He looked at her, studied the lustful look in her eyes, and brought his lips to his forehead. A soft peck.

“Will you have me?” he asked carefully.

“Yes,” she said, “I want you.”

“Good.” He pressed his lips to hers, just as quickly as he had kissed her forehead. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll make a fire.”

They got a change of clothes, and Jihoon prepared the fireplace. She didn’t seem too happy about leaving their moment so quickly, but Jihoon didn’t blame her - he wouldn’t be very happy about it either. He needed to be sure that it was what she wanted, then he would give her everything and more. Despite his attempts, Jihoon wasn’t the type to have a quick fling. He needed this to be special, not something he would regret, or wish that he had done differently. So he made up a fire, and put down blankets and pillows on the floor for the two of them to warm up. The fire lit up her face in the most celestial way. She was mesmerized by the flame, but he was devoted to only looking at her. When she gave him the honor of meeting his gaze, his heart skipped a beat. She reached for his hand, quietly picking it up to bring to her lips. They were soft against his rough skin. How she could touch him so delicately, he would never understand.

“Thank you,” she said, “For taking me in. It’s been so long since I've gotten to be with someone like this.”

Jihoon brought her hand to his chest, pushing her palm flat right on top of where his heart was rapidly beating. She smiled at him and moved closer. Her one hand stayed on his chest, while the other caressed the area where his neck met his shoulder. The sparkle in her eye when she felt his heartbeat quicken made him all the more eager to please her. She was the only thing that mattered right now, she was the only person in the world for him. Y/N toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck, then letting her hand slip down the back of his shirt - just slightly letting her fingertips grace the top of his broad back.

“I couldn’t bring myself to leave you,” he murmured, “Not for a second.”

Her smile widened. She was pleased. Jihoon let out a soft sigh as he stared at her lovingly. Y/N shuffled around to straddle his lap, pressing her core against his crotch. Slowly, she began rocking her hips back and forth. Jihoon, who had been aching for all this time, couldn’t help but moan at the slight movements.

“Do you want to please me?” she asked.

“More than anything,” Jihoon whined.

He put his head in the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent. Jihoon could get high on her scent, in a way that no other drug could ever possibly live up to. Y/N started grinding down harder on him, her hands wandering to gently pull on his hair. Jihoon didn’t know what to do with himself, the sensation was too overwhelming, and he could only think of wrapping his arms around her to pull her in closer. He began leaving open-mouthed kisses along her clavicle and up her neck, gracing his death against her skin ever so slightly. Even through his clothes, her movements felt divine - Jihoon could only imagine what it would feel like being inside her.

“Look at me.” She pulled on his hair to get him to stop sucking bruises on her neck. “Do you feel desperate, Jihoon?”

“Yes.”

“I can see that.” She grinned. “You’ll do anything for me, right?”

“Anything.”

“Take off your clothes and lay down.”

Y/N stood up from her place on his lap, and Jihoon hurried to rip off his clothes. Just as he had pulled off his shirt, and was about to take off his belt, she bent over to pull off her underwear. In the light of the fire, he could see her pussy glistening. With immense self-control, he pulled off his pants and laid down as she had told him - instead of licking up every drop that was running down her legs. Like a man starved waiting for his first meal in ages, Jihoon felt his mouth watering at the thought of having her - impatiently waiting for her to let him ravage her. His wishes were granted as she took her place on top of his face. Jihoon was almost too quick to grab her hips and pull her down to meet his mouth. His tongue laid flat against her pussy, drinking her up as if she was the fountain of youth. When she began grinding on his face, he knew he was a goner. There was a big mess all over his face at this point, probably on the floor as well, but he didn’t care. Jihoon moaned against her, trying to push her further down - not caring if he was suffocated in the process.

“Don’t stop- you’re going to make me cum,” she moaned, and it only egged him on further.

With the same pace and rigor, he devoured her whole. Wet, messy noises could be heard throughout the cabin, along with their combined moans and groans. Her cum was as sweet as nectar, and if she hadn’t pulled away he would’ve continued eating her out well past overstimulation. She was his drug. Jihoon leaned on his elbows and watched her ribcage rise and fall. Y/N was back on his lap again, dangerously close to his, painfully hard, cock.

“You’re such a good boy for me,” she breathed out. “Thank you.”

Her words whirred around in his head over and over again. He needed to please her, he needed to hear her say that again.

“More,” he rasped.

Before she could think to respond, Jihoon had pounced on her. Her body still limp from her orgasm, she laid beneath him spread out for him to enjoy. But Jihoon didn’t kiss her until she had given him a small nod. Teeth were clashing, the mess they had already made was being spread around, and clammy hands were gripping at whatever body parts were the closest. Jihoon kissed down her body, wanting to taste her again.

“You’re a goddess,” he murmured against her skin, “Let me worship you. Please.”

His face was in between her legs again, looking up at her with sparkling eyes. She put out her hand to gently caress his cheek, making him close his eyes and lean into her touch. Maybe he could ignore his own needs - as long as she would let him have her.

“You’ve proven yourself to me,” she whispered. “I want to repay you.”

She sat up and pushed him to lay down again. Now that they were in the same position as before, instead of approaching his face, she leaned down to press kisses on his abdomen. Slowly, her lips traveled south. Jihoon leaned on his elbows again, trying to take her all in despite the urge to shut his eyes tight in pure bliss. Her velvet tongue licked a stripe up his shaft before enclosing her lips around his cock. His mouth fell open and his eyes wandered to the back of his head as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat. She looked up at him, her eyes big and teary from gagging. Pulling herself up, her mouth let go of his head with a pop. Her hand wrapped around his aching cock and slowly stroked it.

“You’re heaven,” he moaned. “You’re-... you’re surreal…”

“I’m yours,” she corrected. “I’ll let you do with me as you please.”

With that said, she wrapped her lips around him again and began bobbing her head up and down. Jihoon’s hips stuttered up, which he quickly apologized for. But the moan that escaped her, and vibrated against him, made him take his apology back. He thought about what she had said, and laid down flat again so that he could intertwine his fingers in her hair. She hummed in approval, and Jihoon began guiding her movements. At first he was soft and gentle, but as he grew more impatient so did his movements.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good around me,” he hissed.

As he fucked her throat, she became a gagging, moaning mess. Looking up at him with lustful eyes, she silently begged him to continue. Watching her fall apart like this - all because of him - made his eyes roll to the back of his head and, without thinking, he came down her throat. Jihoon watched her take it all and swallow once she had removed her mouth from him. She leaned over him and kissed him again, desperate to stay as close as possible.

“I’m burning for you,” she whined when she pulled away from his lips. “Please help me.”

Jihoon held her face in his palms, bringing her in for another kiss. His lips moved slowly against hers, as they changed positions yet again. Only when he was on top of her - her legs spread wide for him - did he break the kiss. His lips traveled down her jaw and neck, down to the valley of her breast. He watched her writhe beneath him as his hand massaged one of her breasts, letting his mouth wrap around the nipple of the other. Her eyes were shut and her mouth wide open, not hiding any noises she made. With his free hand, he began toying with her sensitive clit. Her eyes opened in shock, clearly not expecting this to be the direction for him to go in. But he knew that he’d have to prep her before he could be inside her. So, once his fingers were coated in her slick, he pushed two fingers inside her. With gentle movements, he curled his fingers with each pull. His thumb found her clit again - applying pressure to the bud made her clench around him. Her hands reached for his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. At the pressure of her nails, Jihoon lifted his head from her body and shifted his attention to her face. Her face was scrunched up in pleasure, and her eyes opened only when Jihoon pulled out his fingers. She didn’t have time to protest before his slick fingers were in her mouth. Enclosing her lips around them, she let out a soft hum.

“Do you taste how sweet you are?” he murmured, and took out his fingers from her mouth.

Y/N lifted up her hands and cupped Jihoon’s face softly, guiding him to kiss her again. His eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed the moment of peace amidst the impassioned energy surrounding them. At the sound of her laughter, like the sound of silver bells, he let them open again.

“You looked so blissful.” She brushed a few hairs out his face.

“I am blissful, darling.”

They let their eyes linger, looking deep into the windows of their souls. The once awkward and somewhat cold man was now bearing his heart for her, and she wanted to drink it all up. After pressing a kiss to his cheek, she gave him a nod - which he understood immediately. As much as he enjoyed the peace, he could not ignore the aching sensation in his lower abdomen any longer. He hadn’t longed for someone this much before. Lining up his cock with her entrance, he slowly pushed inside of her. A string of curses left his lips, he was still sensitive from his previous orgasm. Y/N hushed his words with another kiss until he had bottomed out inside her.

“You’re so good to me,” she whispered against his lips. “And so beautiful…”

Jihoon’s face turned red. She was studying his features, all while trying to fight back the urge to close her eyes in pleasure. Being watched wasn’t something that Jihoon was used to, no less admired. Instead of answering, he started moving - which forced her to finally shut her eyes. A guttural moan left her lips as he seemed to have found the spot inside her that could make her eyes roll into the back of her head. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, urging him silently to keep going. With the arm that wasn’t holding him up, Jihoon moved Y/N’s legs even further apart - gripping the flesh of her thighs. His head dipped down to her neck, placing soft kisses to her collar bone area.

“Mine,” he murmured against her skin.

Her hands moved to hold his back, letting her fingernails sink into his skin.

“All yours,” she whispered into his ear and let her nails drag down his back. “You're mine too, aren’t you?”

Jihoon groaned out a yes, his hips faltering as he lost his focus. Y/N leaned her head up, giving him more access to leave colorful marks on her neck. She locked her legs around his hips, enclosing him completely.

“Will you cum inside me, then?”

Jihoon’s movements stopped completely, unsure if he had heard her right. He moved to look at her, and he was met with a sweet smile - which definitely didn’t match what she had just asked of him. Her limbs wrapped around him tighter.

“Do you want that?” he asked.

“I want all of you,” she hummed, and leaned up to place a dulcet kiss on his lips. “Will you let me?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he murmured and started moving again.

His forehead leaned against hers, trying to keep his eyes open to hold her gaze. Her eyes kept shifting to his lips, and fluttering close whenever he found her spot. Soft sighs and whimpers echoed through the room - along with choked moans and groans. Both tired, but neither wanted to stop. Their lips met in a clash, desperately needing to close the distance. As their bodies moved in unison, something was building up in them - yearning to break free.

“I’m close,” he murmured against her lips.

“Me too… just a little more, please, baby,” she whined.

Jihoon couldn’t deny her when she sounded like that. He couldn’t find it in himself to deny her anything at all. With sloppy movements, they continued until Jihoon felt like he was going to burst. A string of curse words escaped his lips.

“It’s okay, baby,” she moaned, “You can cum- cum inside me. Please, give it all to me.”

She kept urging him; telling him not to stop, that she was so close, and begging him to release himself inside her. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - deny her command. With a soft moan, he reached his orgasm. Despite the overstimulation, he kept moving until her hips were spasming. Both of them were heaving, unable to move. Jihoon stayed on top of her, his head having dipped into the crook of Y/N’s neck from his muscles exhaustion. He doesn’t put all of his weight on her, he wouldn’t dream of it. Her limbs are still wrapped around him, but just barely hanging there instead of gripping him tightly like she had before. After pressing a soft kiss to her neck, he mustered the strength to get up. He sat on his knees, watching her figure. Her eyes were still closed, her mouth slightly agape.

“Did you fall asleep?” he asked, mostly as a joke.

“No…” she mumbled in a way that made it seem like she’d fall asleep at any second.

“I’ll get something to clean you up,” he said, “I won’t be gone for long. Just wait here for me.”

The last bit was maybe redundant. She couldn’t move, let alone leave the room. But she just nodded in agreement, turning slightly to get closer to the still glowing fireplace. Since she wasn’t looking, Jihoon took a moment to stare before he left. He looked at the curve of her hip, letting his eyes travel to her chest and up to her clavicle. A sheen layer of sweat covered her. His eyes stayed looking at her face for a while. She wore a slight smile. It might have been a trick of the light, but Jihoon decided that he’d still let himself believe that she was smiling.

After cleaning Y/N up with a warm towel, Jihoon wrapped her up in blankets and laid down next to her. She had fallen asleep, probably too tired to stay awake any longer. The fire was burning bright again, as he had just put in an extra log in the furnace. More importantly, she was warm. Her back faced him, and being protected from her gaze made him more confident. Jihoon wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head by her shoulder. If he stayed very still, he could hear her soft breathing. Wrapping his arms even tighter around her in an attempt to pull her even closer, he pressed his nose against her neck. She smelled like a summer morning, when the air is slightly chilly and dewy - like the flowers had woken up from a nap and decided to share their fragrance with the rest of the world. Jihoon felt at home here. He was so lost in her that he hadn’t realized that she was stirring awake.

“You’re squeezing me,” she mumbled.

Jihoon’s grip immediately loosened, and he muttered out a shy apology. Y/N turned in his arms, now facing him. Her arms snaked up his shoulders and wrapped around his neck. As if it was in his nature, his head fell back into the crook of her neck. He could hear her chuckle, he could feel the vibrations from it in her chest. She didn’t comment on it, only threading her fingers through his hair.

“When was the last time you had a haircut?” she asked.

“Too long ago…” He sighed and looked up at her again. “Do you not like it?”

She took a good look at it, studying his hair like it was a rare artifact locked away in a museum. When she reached out to him, he immediately closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. With careful fingers, she brushed a few strands of hairs out of his face.

“I like it,” she said. “I think that short hair would suit you too, though… then again, I wouldn’t have as much to play with if it was short.”

“So?” He opened his eyes a crack. “Should I keep it long?”

“I think so.”

“Then I will.”

Her hand was cupping his cheek, and Jihoon put his own hand on top of it. Turning his head slightly, he kissed her palm before closing his eyes again. Y/N put her head under his chin, wrapping her arms around his torso. Jihoon drew small figures on her back with his fingers until they both fell asleep.

Jihoon woke up with a stiff back from sleeping on the floor. But he couldn’t find it in himself to complain when he saw Y/N still laying in his arms. He pulled her closer as much as he could without waking her. His fingers brushed against something on her back… it felt like tree bark. Jihoon shuffled around as carefully as he could, and turned Y/N to lay on her back. A spot of tree bark had formed on her back.

“Jihoon?” she mumbled. “What is it?”

“... your back. It’s…”

He paused, and Y/N brought her hand to her back. A sad sigh escaped her lips. She stretched and sat up, bringin the blanket up to cover her chest. When she wouldn’t look at him, Jihoon knew that something was wrong.

“This always happens when I don’t want it to.” She paused, and found the courage to look at him. “I can’t keep my human form forever.”

Jihoon’s heart sank. He reached out to hold her hand, but she pulled it back - looking closer at it, he could see that there was tree bark forming there too.

“What will happen to you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll go back to my glade, and turn back into a tree… and you’ll stay here and continue your life until the next time you get to see me.”

“And how long will that be?”

“I don’t know… it’s been a while since I’ve been able to make myself visible to humans,” she explained, “I can take a mobile form without turning human, but I will only look like a gust of wind to humans. Something happened when I met you in the glade, something that hasn’t happened in a while.”

Jihoon didn’t know what to say. She’d be able to wander around in this second dimension that she was speaking of, being able to see but not be seen. He put his hand on top of hers, not caring about the patches of bark steadily growing there.

“Take me with you,” he said.

“What?”

“I want to join you, help you watch over the forest.”

A plan was set in motion - a hasty plan, but it was all that they had time for. They would go back to the glade, and Jihoon would hold Y/N’s hand as she went through her transformation. It wasn’t just a physical transformation, but a spiritual one as well. The hope was that Jihoon would follow her to her spiritual realm, where he would be able to stay with her. Duke was supposed to stay with one of Jihoon’s distant friends, but when the time came to leave he refused to get into the car. It was clear that Duke was ready to go with them.

There was not much time. They only brought the clothes on their backs, and hurried to the glade. Y/N sat on Jihoon’s back, too stiff to make any quick movements, and Duke was running ahead of them. The forest was lenient, letting them pass through without any roots or bushes in their way. Jihoon had always felt welcomed by the forest, but now it felt like he was a part of it.

The glade looked the same as it did the first time he was there. In the familiar surroundings, Jihoon let his shoulders drop and his muscles relax. He brought Y/N to the spot where no grass would grow, her feet already starting to change. Duke rested against her legs, and Jihoon grabbed her hand.

“You’ll really stay with me?” she asked.

“Forever,” he answered.

Her hand was warm and clammy, gripping his tightly. Jihoon closed his eyes. Take a moment. Breathe in the cold air, smell the trees and the wet moss. This is home. Take a moment, and clear your head. Whisper out a silent prayer for good luck for the rest of your life.

When Jihoon opened his eyes again, Y/N was still standing in front of him and Duke was still by his feet. She hadn’t turned into a tree, neither had he. But when she moved to embrace him, he saw an apple tree standing behind him. Jihoon held his hand out in front of him. If he looked closely, his skin was slightly sheer. Looking at Duke, he could see the same sheer effect on his fur. It hadn’t felt like anything at all, as if he was completely embraced by the forest even before he took her hand. Y/N’s grip around him loosened, and he turned from her to look around himself. It was the same forest he had lived in all this time. The trees looked the same, the red leaves on the ground looked the same, but everything was different. He could hear every sound of the forest - the growing and the dying - and he came to understand how everything was in constant movement, yet simultaneously completely still.

“Welcome home,” she said.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

No one ever figured out what happened to Lee Jihoon. Some say that he just moved, but the truck in his driveway and his things still where he left them says otherwise. The first few weeks there were search parties in the woods, but people soon realized that he hadn’t gotten lost either. It was a mystery that was just accepted.

As time moved on, his disappearance became more of a legend than anything else. A children’s tale to make sure that your kids didn’t get lost in the woods, or disrespect the forest. For if you ever dare do something that you shouldn’t, don’t be surprised if you hear the howl of a big dog as dark as the midnight sky. And if you ever get lost, look for the wind that seems to blow even in the densest parts of the forest. If you ask nicely, the protectors of the forest will take you in as well - but don’t think they’ll show you mercy if you try to cause even the slightest harm to their woods.

#svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen #svt #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon #jihoon x reader #woozi #seventeen woozi #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #smut #angst #fluff #woozi fluff #bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

165 notes · View notes

aris-ink · 2 years

Note

Please consider writing about Daddy Joon who adopted reader after her mother died and who forces her to sleep in the same bed as him and one night she wakes up to him force breeding her 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 doing his absolute best to make her a mommy 💛

no words fhdhshdfsd

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: mentions of death and violence (not towards the reader), some angst, soft corruption and manipulation, pseudo incest, daddy kink, somnophilia, dub con, hints of breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, creampie

edited.

Namjoon tried his best to be a good father. He didn't get the chance to watch you grow up, and he was perfectly aware of the fact that you were a woman now. But deep down, in his heart, he still saw you as his little girl. You changed his life, marked him forever. All the unexplored and untouched nooks that twisted through his soul; your light went right into them, a gust of bone chilling wind, breaking through the cobwebs and dust, rattling him to the core. Awakening something so old and primitive from its sleep, it felt nearly sinister.

But it was perfectly fine, Namjoon figured. All little girls had a monster under their bed; it just so happened that yours protected you. Ironic, how it didn't even occur to him that perhaps what you needed protection from was him.

When your mother passed away, he took you in without a moment of hesitation. A lost baby bird that needed their wings nursed back to health. You didn't have to be looked after anymore, sure - but you still needed your daddy. All little girls needed their daddies. And Namjoon would have gladly went to hell and back to provide you anything your heart desired.

It was sweet, your friends thought; how close you were with your stepfather, how tight knit your bond was. Especially knowing you barely remembered your own father. His absence left a hole in your life that seemed impossible to fill before Namjoon started dating your mom.

But what would they say if they knew? If they knew how as soon as you moved in with him, he had you sleep in his bed? How he coaxed you and rocked you in his arms while he brushed your tears away? Weren't you too old for this?

"I'm worried about you, baby," he whispered, his hand burning hot on your knee. "I won't let you sleep alone."

You were opposed to the idea; but something in the way he spoke to you made your mind cloud, the low murmur of his voice filling it up like fog.

"Just lie down for me, sweetheart. Good girl. Don't cry."

He didn't really give you much of a choice; and you felt so warm and safe in his embrace, so loved. Still, a tiny pang of guilt stirred in your chest. Like you were doing something wrong. It definitely seemed wrong to feel every muscle of his body; in his chest against your back, in his arms as they enveloped you. The intimacy of it felt so... new. You've shared hugs before, but you never shared a bed, let alone cuddled in it.

You tried to ignore this train of thought, willing it to crash and crumble. Your cheeks warmed as he sighed against you, from the sheer embarrassment of your own paranoia. This was Namjoon, for god's sake; your mother's ex husband. He must have been suffering too. He must have felt lonely. But most of all, you knew how worried he could get about you. He had always been much more mindful than your mother, paying attention to your moods, asking you about your day, helping you with your homework. You drifted off with only him on your mind, surrounded by the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body entwined with yours. The comfort of it lulled you into the best sleep you've had in months.

After that, you slowly stopped rejecting the idea of sharing a bed with him. Namjoon held an important place in your heart for years. No wonder he'd be the one to keep it from falling to pieces. He was just looking after you.

Right?

Then why did that murky, uncomfortable feeling continue to unfurl in your chest? All logic was against it. And yet you couldn't help but pick up on the little things; how persuasive he was, how his hands wandered over your waist under the sheets. Why did it all bother you, when technically he wasn't doing anything wrong? Most importantly, you reminded yourself over and over again; you weren't doing anything wrong.

Though you might have been unaware of it, Namjoon could see how conflicted you were. He could also see the goosebumps on your skin as he caressed your back, your muscles tensing, suppressing shivers. Unfortunately, it didn't look like you'd give in so easily.

"Go to sleep, baby," he murmured, leaving a kiss on your head before turning to lie on his back. You just needed a little push. That was okay. All good fathers knew their little girls inside and out; and sometimes they had to do what was necessary for their greater good.

You breathed a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into the cool pillow.

"Goodnight, daddy."

Something in his lower stomach stirred. The affectionate title fell from your lips so quietly, like you were already on the verge of succumbing to your exhaustion, slipping right off the precipice and into its dark embrace.

He hasn't heard you call him that in weeks. He listened to your breathing even out, lifting himself up on one arm.

Fuck. He needed you. You needed him too, didn't you? Of course you did. He knew you did. That was what he told himself when he brushed your hair away from your neck, pressing his lips into its column. He covered every inch of it he could reach with butterfly kisses, ending the trail right below your ear. Unlike his lips, his hand was less gentle, squeezing your hip, like he was searching for a way to keep at least some semblance of self control. It was difficult when you felt so soft and warm beneath him. Even more so when he realized that for the first time, he was finally able to act out on his fantasies. For the first time, he had you in his bed, with no one to come in and interrupt you, no one to witness him sliding down your underwear, sticky from how he played with you. The excitement bordered on predatory, but what else could you expect with that thing you set free in somewhere in his soul, the darkness that broke through? It was all your doing. And Namjoon was all yours. The most sinful, immoral parts of him included.

Sinful they were, for no good father should ever touch his little girl the way he touched you, but how could he resist when you responded so well? Your nipples felt so hard under his tongue, the little twitch in your body enthralling. You were so easy to defile; so willing. Namjoon didn't think he's ever felt more in love.

The sight of his aching, fat cock lined up with your cunt was enough to make it drool. He was so hard every vein and ridge seemed to throb. You wanted this, didn't you? You just needed that one, little push. One push of his hips, and you'd wake up gasping from your needy, mortal dreams, only to awaken in heaven; his hand around your mouth, his thick cock filling you up to the brim.

It didn't take long. He pressed his weight into you, groaning as you startled, trashing under him.

"Shhhh, baby," he whispered, breathing harshly into your ear. "It's just me."

Your pussy clenched around him. Namjoon stilled inside you for a moment, holding back a grunt. He looked up at you, trying to force himself to slow his thrusts. The tears stuck in your eyelashes made his heart twist. He took his hand off your mouth, replacing it with his tongue instead, kissing you and trying to pour all his love into you.

He could feel your distress, feel the hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Don't cry, baby," he breathed as he pulled away from your mouth. "It's okay. You're so good for daddy."

"N-no," you stuttered out, your hands trembling as they pushed at his chest. "Get off me."

An unexpected, hard thrust had your back arching, a gasp leaving your throat.

"Get off you?"

There was a significant change to the tone of his voice; it was lower and dark now, his eyes stuck on yours as he continued to fuck you.

"That's not what this cute, little cunt is telling me, baby. You're squeezing me so tight."

His teeth gritted at the last word. You couldn't believe the soft moan that slipped past your lips, your body betraying your morals. Namjoon gripped your jaw, fingers digging into it, his cock making wet, obscene sounds as it split you open.

"Fuck," he growled. "You hear that? So wet. Good girl."

You didn't feel like a good girl. More tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you quickly found yourself realizing you were helpless.

"Please, daddy!" You whined, still pushing at his chest, but your attempt at trying to make him see reason had the opposite effect. His cock only seemed to grow harder inside you - if that was possible - his balls slapping against you faster.

In one swift, rough motion, he turned your head to the side, plush lips pressing right into your ear.

"Do you want me to stop? Is that it? You want daddy to stop pounding your little pussy?" He dropped his voice down to a whisper. "Or is my little girl crying because she's ashamed of how depraved she is?"

The pressure of your hands pushing at his chest softened. You blinked a few times before burying your face in his neck, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

"Daddy-" you sobbed out, half pleasure, half pain.

Namjoon groaned, his hand slipping under your thigh.

"It's okay, baby... I love you. You're my good girl."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder, leaving kisses over your sweaty skin, his cock reaching deeper than you've ever been touched. He could tell from the way you gasped, trying so hard not to give in to him - and failing.

"Daddy's almost done, baby," he soothed. "Gonna fill you up so- oh-" his hips stuttered when your pussy clenched again. "Ohh fuck."

"Wait, you can't-" the words were abruptly cut off by his kiss, your protests turning into more incoherent, muffled moans.

A string of saliva connected your lips when he pulled away.

"Be a good girl," he groaned. "I can feel how much you want it. Want me to come inside you and make you all mine, huh?"

Your thighs tightened around him as his finger found your clit, slippery and throbbing.

"Want daddy to make you a mommy," he grunted, circling the sensitive bud in fast circles, desperate as he felt you clench. "Yeah? Want to be all fucking mine?" He was hanging on by threads, the filth spilling from his mouth turning into breathy moans when you started coming. He fucked you harder, letting you claw at his back, hot seed spilling deep into your tightening cunt. The sound of your loud whines only made him twitch more, his head spinning.

"Good fucking girl," he whimpered, stilling in between your legs.

He stayed inside you, unable to force himself away, his hands running up and down your arms soothingly.

"Baby," he whispered a moment, lifting his head.

You didn't shy away from his gaze, but more tears lingered beneath your lashes, and he couldn't help but sigh.

"I love you."

He pressed a kiss into your forehead, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks.

"Don't cry."

You struggled to reply verbally, instead choosing to hide within his embrace.

"It's okay," he reassured. "I promise. I got you."

You nodded into his neck.

"Good girl."

Namjoon knew he had to pull out eventually. He sighed again, dropping another kiss on your lips.

"Get some rest, baby."

A shudder went through you as he lifted himself up, dragging his cock out of your cunt, leaving behind nothing but a feeling of emptiness and his cum dribbling out of you. He almost shuddered too, his abdomen clenching at the sight.

"Good girl," he couldn't help repeating himself, his hand massaging the soft flesh of your thigh.

He wanted to fuck you again. The thought of overwhelming you stopped him, though. He knew just how much you could handle, and that was it for tonight. It was more than enough.

He lowered himself onto his side, wrapping both arms around your waist. This time, you didn't try to scooch away. You didn't try to get closer either, and he left it at that, the soft hum of post orgasmic bliss filling his body and tempting his lids to drop.

"Goodnight, daddy," you whispered, or sighed, he couldn't be sure, your voice so soft as it breached the sleepy, softened walls of his mind. His heart fluttered in his chest, fingertips brushing yours.

"Goodnight, baby."

He tried not to think about tomorrow. Tried not to get excited over the possibility of you getting pregnant; of finally being able to be a real family, the kind he could never imagine with anyone else.

How could Namjoon ever consider fate cruel? Meeting your mother has led him to meeting you, and in a twisted, tender way he loved the role he took on for you. He loved providing for you; he loved the authority that came with his title. And he loved you, so fucking much. Fate has been kind to him in all aspects so far; even sweeping your mother out of the way for him. He didn't have to lift a finger. Before she died, he had started thinking that she might need a little push, too. Down the stairs perhaps. But all is well that ends well, he supposed, and this ended as well as it could without him interfering.

Did he feel any grief at all? No. Why would he? The woman has been far too self absorbed, far too neglectful of you. She was became nothing but a burden; one he was glad to be rid of.

He knew that wasn't the case for you, however. You were too kind to think that way. He didn't mind, though. No matter what, he wouldn't let guilt eat you alive. It was the last promise he made to himself before falling asleep, his arms tightening around you. He'd fill you up with his love and his cum until you could think of nothing else, glowing and warm.

You were his little girl. He'd take his time; and he had all the time in the world.

#no words but also ily #yandere bts #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts smut

1K notes · View notes

mosquito-queen · 9 months

Text

“you have a freckle here,” kate’s mouth ghosts a soft spot along yelena’s spine, “did you know that?”

no.

something drops in yelena’s stomach, imitating the adrenaline from a free fall. she focuses on the hot breath warming her skin. squeezes her eyes shut. tries to count to some arbitrary number until she doesn’t feel the need to crawl out of her skin.

“and here.” this time kate presses her mouth into the curve of her back. and yelena lets out a breath she didn’t mean to be holding.

it comes out shaky. catches like spines in the back of her throat. she coughs at the dryness.

lying here in the summer night heat, in kate’s mess of a room, in kate’s bed that smells too much like her, tangled in kate’s blanket, kate’s hands skating down her arm, kate’s breath hot on her shoulder now. kate. kate. kate knowing her.

it’s too intimate. too vulnerable.

she doesn’t want anyone outside of herself to be aware of her. she’s suppose to be a shadow. a bad omen. the boogeyman. the last thing seen before the eternity of death.

whatever is the opposite of kate bishop tracing the constellations on her back. she is an abyss. not something to stargaze.

but kate is leaving a messy trail across her shoulder, “no freckles here, though.” she’s humming, soft, so very fucking soft.

yelena feels herself stiffening, her mind racing, the panic rising with the taste of bile. she wants to scour her skin of kate bishop. no. she wants kate bishop to remove any trace of her. because what is she but a ghost? a resurrected memory. nothing nothing nothing. no one ever stays.

no one -

there is a small squeeze just above her elbow, a tugging, a worry. draws her slightly out of the fog settling inbetween her eyes. she pulls away on instinct and kate releases. gives it a second. because yelena always comes back.

and she does. rolls over with a sigh, rubs the side of her face into the pillow and looks at kate. no, looks is too soft. she’s staring, searching for something that neither of them can show in this singular moment.

“hey,” kate brings her hand up, wants to touch and feel and ground herself; she wants to hold and never let go because she’s terrified of yelena disappearing (again and again and again; she always comes back, but god, what kate would give for her to never leave in the first place); yelena hasn’t flinched away so kate places her hand soft on the side of her face, strokes her thumb over her jaw, “don’t go where i can’t follow.”

something sparks in those lonely eyes, something brims, and pushes yelena over the edge. another shaky breath. she moves closer, her forehead bumping against kate’s, until they’re sharing the same breath, “i- i am… scared that there isn’t place you will not attempt to cross,” her voice is a whisper, “and what if you can’t get out?”

“then don’t go there.”

“cheeky.”

and their skin is sticking together, yelena’s eyelashes fluttering butterfly kisses against kate as she can’t help but adjust herself closer, and kate is pressing her mouth soft, so fucking soft, against the top of yelena’s head. and they don’t talk about the blip, or the red room, or natasha, or the way the world is a spitfire of mean that tends to take yelena away from herself. that she never had the choice to leave out of her own right. and now that she can, she’s barely ever here in this room, in this bed, in this embrace. if she can leave first then nothing can take kate. it’s yelena’s choice.

they don’t talk about it being the wrong choice.

not yet. not right now.

not when yelena is asking kate to hold her, not when she’s wishing, not when she’s dreaming about something that doesn’t end in destruction. not when she’s thinking that maybe this time she’ll stay. if it only means kate won’t follow her into the dark.

so when kate says in that small, nervous voice, “will you be here in the morning?”

yelena surprises them both: “yes.”

#bishova #kate x yelena #bishlova #kate bishop #yelena belova

266 notes · View notes

legends-of-apex · 1 year

Text

‘To Be Alone’ | Tommy Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (non-explicit smut, mentions of semi-public sex, fluff, kinda angsty)

Word Count: 650

Summary: A few years after the outbreak, you and Tommy have some time alone together and it’s the least lonely either of you have maybe ever felt. Reader is gender neutral. No use of Y/N. No spoilers for tlou. If you’d like to be added to the Tommy Miller tag list please lemme know <3

His chest shone bronze in what sliver of moonlight managed to cut through the boarded windows. It touched your shoulder too and despite your heavy breaths and warmth that meshed your bodies together, he worried you might suddenly feel empty and cold.

Your body felt like velvet gloved in his sandpaper skin. His palms were so rough and overworked that he felt he almost shouldn’t touch you. But he still burned to. Even after spending the better part of an hour touching you, tasting your skin, his hands still craved the warmth of you. So he made the decision to be selfish and let his hand glide over your bare shoulder.

When his breath evened, he spoke. “You know, back in the day I’d have taken you out to dinner first….. let you ride me in the restaurant’s parking lot till the car’s windows fogged up. If that took your fancy.” He'd have had some shitty CD blaring through the speakers too. The music would be just loud enough to mask your moans to passersby, loud enough that only he got to hear you.

“Here I thought you were trying to convince me you were a gentleman.” You joked and he smiled. It was a sweet thought, almost as sweet as the way you nestled your face in his neck and let a kiss linger there. If this night hadn’t begun with your back pressed against a wall, a shower of paint flecks dusting your hair and your clothes with each thrust, then maybe he could have been considered a gentleman. He certainly kissed like one.

“Maybe after that I’d drive you back home…kiss you underneath the porch light,” his lips pressed against your shoulder, the base of your neck.

It wouldn’t have been like this, was what he was trying to tell you. There would’ve more romance to it, more grandeur. He wouldn’t have made love to you in some abandoned apartment building where the bed creaked like it would collapse at any moment. It wouldn't have been a quick, need-filled endeavour either.

“So you would have been a gentleman? You keep acting like that then I’d have asked you to come inside.” He groaned as you tangled your hand in his tousled, inky hair and cupped the back of his head. Roles reversed, now he let himself sink into your warm embrace. He let you cradle him as though you had all the time in the world, like being here together was all that mattered. And the first time since the outbreak, he let himself breathe. Truly breathe.

He'd been dreaming about taking his time with you, of mapping your body with his. The entire time he thought about it he meant to be gentle. There was already enough harsh and roughness in the decaying world, of which you’d no doubt had your fair share. Why would he want to add himself to the list of things that made your body sore when he could treasure it? Yet when you finally snuck off and had a moment together he realised that you didn’t want gentleness; You wanted him. Nothing more. Nothing less. You reminded him that sometimes pleasure makes the body sore in the hours after. The scrape of your broken nails down his flannel-clad back was a feeling he would certainly treasure forever. Tommy just made sure to promise to be there when your body did begin to ache.

It was so long since either of you felt the touch of another in that way that despite the cold and the harshness of the room you made love in, it felt like being home. The world was such a lonely thing and you were, as everyone was, two lonely people just trying to survive.

What a blissful thing it was then; To be alone together.

#Tommy miller x reader #tommy miller #Tommy tlou #the last of us #tlou Tommy x reader #Gabriel Luna #fic #not sfw #k.exe #mywriting #tlou tv show #tlou hbo

298 notes · View notes

the-modern-typewriter · 2 years

Note

Ngh, I have to agree with that anon, you're really talented at writing vampires who truly feel dangerous, and not just softies with fang. If you like the idea, do you think you could write something about a Victorian maiden alone in her bedroom, waking up to a vampire scratching at her window, begging her to let him in because he's just so very cold, and he longs for her warm embrace to feel alive again. She doesn't want to at first, because even though he's beautiful, he's also pale with long teeth and nails and a wicked smile. But then she gazes into his eyes, and they draw her in irresistibly. Basically, I'm really curious about how you'd write vampire hypnosis, old school Gothic novel style!

Everyone knew that vampires went for the pretty girls and handsome boys, the lords and ladies of fortune and good breeding with their soft skin like fine-china to serve such lethal meals, tucked away from the world and oblivious to the rules beyond their gilded towers.

So, when the vampire first tapped at her window, she assumed she must be dreaming. She certainly didn't think to scream. Instead, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and stared.

Maybe it was already too late, truly, from the first their eyes met. Even if it was only for a heartbeat. She should have known better. Mostly, though, she simply wanted to know - to bite the forbidden fruit of him, and taste the sweetness of such an otherworldly thing.

He was pale and delicate in the moonlight, like a boy from an old painting. A man. He was not a boy, he was a man, and even as that registered, she felt her heart skitter. He appeared older than her, but not by much.

He was beautiful.

It felt a odd to even think it - beautiful. But, he was. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen, though she could admit that there was scant competition. Beautiful things did not often come calling for her.

So, she stared, and prayed maybe god might forgive her a few moments at looking at something so lovely. Surely he would look, too, with a face like that at his window?

"I'm so cold," he said. "Won't you please let me in?"

The fine points of his teeth shone in the light.

She realised she had stood up from her bed. She realised she had half crossed to the window towards him, her trembling fingers curled around the latch. Her breath fogged up the glass and his did not.

She swallowed. Fear - and something else, something unfamiliar - curled like smoky invitation in the pit of her belly.

"Let me warm myself in your arms," he murmured. "For I am so cold, and you are so lonely. Are you not, miss?"

She yanked her hands back from the latch as if she'd been scalded, taking a few stumbling steps back. And...

He grinned. His voice changed, away from its sorrowful longing, and terribly it suited him more.

"That's how the line goes, isn't it?"

She squared her shoulders, heat flooding her face. "I ask that you leave, sir. You are not welcome here."

"Oh, miss." He wet his lips, and craned a little closer to the glass, as if he could feel the warmth of her even at such a distance and longed for it. "The pounding of your heart protests otherwise."

She had no proper response for that, and so she whirled away from him - it - with great determination, and returned to her bed. She put her back to the window and willed herself not to turn and check again.

He was back the next night, and the following, and soon enough she felt a little dizzy from sleeplessness and stolen glances. When she did manage to fall asleep, her dreams were strange fragmented things, consumed by the wicked smile of a pretty man warming up beneath the forbidden press of her hands. He would kiss her neck, and the swell of her chest, and hold her with such strong arms. And his eyes...they would burn into her, as if he had never once been made to be dead, made to be cold.

Curse the creature! And yet, she could not shake the thoughts of him.

After a week of it, she went over to the window again, with every intention of scolding him for his efforts. Just because he was a thing of the night, did not mean he had to be so improper when she was trying to sleep.

Their eyes met again.

His were very pale, as silvery as the rest of him, like a cat's eyes glinting in the night. They were...they were...

"Won't you undo the window latch?" he asked, and then with another quirk of a smile, as if to mock them both. "I am so very cold."

She didn't remember exactly undoing the latch, but then the window was open and the night air was cool upon her flushed skin. It was awful cold, and she shivered.

He rested his arms upon the sill, preventing her from slamming it shut again, but did not enter yet. He watched her as intently and as transfixed as she observed him.

"Are you ready to ask for what you want, miss?"

What she wanted?

"You intend to kill me. I suppose you imagine that nobody will miss me." She jutted her chin up. "I have told the priest of your visits-"

"-You have not."

She faltered.

"But I can humour you, if you wish to tell what you confessed." He raised his brows, a small smile playing on those lips again. "Perhaps that you have allowed a gentleman caller at your window at all hours? Vampires do not go for the likes of you. You must have done something wrong."

Had she?

"At least," he said, with a careless shrug, "I imagine that is what they will say."

"You are a monster. A damned thing."

"Indeed, but that does not mean they will not be quick to find fault in you for my sins. It comforts them, you see, to believe that they would never do the same."

In an instant, like an unravelling of smoke or another glancing of moonlight, he was inside her home. He smelled like snow. His mouth had more colour than the rest of him, red roses to the lily of him, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Let me get that," he murmured, and closed the window behind him with a soft click. "I would so hate for you to catch a chill."

She backed up a step, though it was far too late for that.

"You have - my mind -"

"Yes." He closed the gap between them, only to cup her face gently, and oh he truly was cold. It made her gasp. Her knees felt weak. He did not let her fall, cradling her in the careful cage of his embrace. "You could not have resisted. It is not you - anyone would be the same."

"Then why me?" It seemed a small, pitiful question. It exposed too much that she was not the girl that people wanted. That she was the one whose mother was gone, and whose father didn't notice anything, and who nobody in the village would much miss.

"Because." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips, and brushed her hair back from her shoulders to expose the line of her throat. "You are beautiful." He kissed her neck, her aching pulse. "And when I held your eyes in mine," he whispered in her ear, "I could not resist you."

The next night, he was back again, and the window was open.

"Do you know what you want?" he asked.

And she said, "I know what it is like to be the stranger in this town."

She said, "I know what it is like to always be the one outside, never invited in. I understand it all now, and you..."

She said, "it's dreadful cold, sir. Come in."

#all this talk of vampires and I'm in a mood #next thing won't be vampires haha #vampires #writing #story #creative writing #fiction #sometimes I forget how much I love vampires #i know little of Victorian ettiquette

804 notes · View notes

visiosatanae · 9 months

Text

Possession

A lonely Sister of Sin asks Swiss about the idea of helping her out for when he's away. He's only too happy to help.

A/N: I don’t really consider myself to be much of a writer, but sometimes I get an idea and I want to see it come to fruition, and this idea just happened to be better as a fic. Anyway, I haven’t written anything in a long time so feedback is appreciated if you read!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1,553

Pairing: Swiss x afab!reader

Ao3 Link

"Alright, you ready?"

Swiss sat with you in his lap, your back to his front. You were both sitting on your bed with his arms wrapped around your middle as he rubbed soothing circles over your hips with his thumbs. You nodded, fully willing for what lay ahead but nervous all the same. He rested his chin on your shoulder, pulling you close.

"Just relax. Close your eyes, it'll make it easier."

Possession was something you had been intrigued by ever since Swiss said it was an ability the Ghouls had. It was frowned upon for them to use it on Siblings but you were becoming desperate in your situation.

You had been having a hard time finding any kind of release while he had been on tour. You just… had a hard time figuring out what made you tick. Swiss had you down pat, able to make you see stars at what seemed like no effort to him. But the last tour had been awful. Especially when you would see the videos of him the fans would post on social media. The way he acted on stage made you ache for him all those months.

So when you brought up the idea with him, a mischievous look crossed his eyes as he immediately dragged you back to your room, tail flicking in expectation. And now you were here. Locked in his embrace. About to have your body and mind taken over by him. The thought was exhilarating, but that kind of vulnerability also made your heart race.

You did as he asked. Your eyes closed and you attempted to calm your breathing. Then you felt it. Like a tickle in your brain at first, then it turned into more of a caress. Your head fell back against his shoulder as he took over your mind, then your limbs, starting at your fingertips and toes. You slowly lost the use of your body to him, giving it over completely.

When you finally opened your eyes again, you knew it wasn't of your own volition. Your body moved on its own. You were no longer the pilot, merely a passenger in your mind.

"How do you feel?"

You felt him more than heard him inside your head.

"F-Fine," you thought back. "It's like nothing I've ever felt before."

You felt him chuckle in your head. "Good. I'm happy to be your first possessor~" His words curled around your brain like a thick fog. You could tell he was a bit smug at being your first. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

You hummed in affirmation in your mind as your hands lifted, although not within your control. Swiss wiggled your fingers experimentally before having them dive over your skin, touching over your stomach and up to your chest. Your hands palmed at your breasts over your habit, fingers quickly finding your nipples through the fabric. Your breath hitched as he rolled and pinched them beneath your fingers, moaning into your mind.

Your pleasure was now his own.

But this was just the beginning for him. Next your hands skimmed down your thighs, tugging up the hem of your habit. He opened your legs wider, helping you relax against his body. Out of curiosity he turned your head up to look at him. His eyes were closed, as if almost in a meditative state. Even in a relaxed state you could still see his telltale smirk. He chuckled again and if you had control of your body currently you knew your face would be turning red. Of course he knew what you were thinking. He was literally in your head.

He went back to the task at hand, bunching up the fabric around your waist, allowing him access to your panties. He started by rubbing over the fabric, feeling the damp spot that was already there. There was a hum in your mind of appreciation.

"Start slow," he thought softly. "You're very sensitive down here, so you'll need to work your way up."

You tried to nod before remembering you couldn't, but he seemed to still understand your compliance. Your fingers pressed into the wet patch there, rubbing up and down your clothed slit before sliding up to rub circles over your clit. You moaned within your mind as he pressed your fingers down firmly, a pool of heat beginning to form in your belly as he found the perfect pressure and speed.

He let your shared pleasure rise like that, until you both knew you needed more. Your fingers moved up, skimming along the elastic of your panties before slipping underneath. Both of you gasped in unison at the discovery of how wet you were. Swiss wasted no time in sliding your fingers between your folds, gathering the slick on your fingertips. He was practically purring in your mind.

"Satanus, your body feels so good…" He said out loud and it was strange hearing your own voice intermixed with his.

You whimpered back to him. He was right. Under his supervision you were already feeling better than you normally would on your own. He coaxed your legs wider, your body slumping against his as he lazily played with your clit. At that moment you realized this wasn't his first time doing this.

The corners of your lips tugged up into a smirk. "Oh yes, I've done this before. Although, usually not with cute little things as willing as yourself." There was a dark edge to his tone and you mentally shivered at the implication. You felt yourself bite your lip as his fingers flicked over a particularly sensitive spot. "There it is," he moaned in your throat.

The build up in your belly grew bigger, hotter as he focused on that spot towards the top of your clit. You could only whine in your head, your body completely at his mercy. You tried to pay attention as best you could to what he was doing, but it just felt so good. Having Swiss know you even better than he did before was a dangerous game to play.

Your hand reached down again, gathering your own slick to keep your fingers moving smoothly over your clit. Your breathing became heavier under his ministrations, his own excitement and pleasure keeping everything going. He was losing himself now, your hips moving up in time with your hand as he maneuvered your fingers expertly along your pussy. Soft moans and curses left your mouth as the fire within you became hotter and tighter in your belly.

"Your cute little body wants to come so bad for me," he purrs, not even faltering in his onslaught. He knew there was no point in dirty talking when you didn't even have control over your own body. He was doing it just for you, sensing how riled up you were from being trapped inside your head and only able to feel how good everything felt. And it was true. You felt yourself going crazy from the pleasure.

He suddenly pulls your hand away and you can't help but whine internally. He hushes and coos to you in your mind before lifting your hips up, quickly pushing your underwear down your legs and kicking them off. He spreads you wide for him, fingers quickly finding your clit again as your other hand sinks a finger inside your throbbing cunt. You both cry out, hips coming off the bed in little pulses as your fingers work you towards the edge.

"Swiss! I'm… fuck!"

"I know, sweetheart. I want it too," he grunts in your voice as he slides a second finger in. Your hips were thrusting up to meet your fingers, helping push them towards that sensitive spot inside. The burning coil inside your gut felt so hot, stretched tight and ready to snap. "Just a little more," you hear yourself whine out loud. He was desperate for it too.

Everything came undone as he moved your fingers harshly over your clit, the coil snapping as you both came all over your fingers. A hellish mixture of both your voices cried out, back arching off the bed as your fingers continued to help you ride out your orgasm. Your body shuddered with waves of pleasure even as it finally began to relax down into the bed.

Once your trembling eased slightly, you felt Swiss pull your hands away, looking at the fresh cum coating your fingers. Before you realized what he was doing, they were in your mouth, your tongue tasting the tanginess of yourself with a groan. He cleaned your fingers eagerly and then suddenly he was gone from your mind, his real arms wrapping around you from behind.

"So obviously I know how you feel," he smirked into your neck, "but how was it?"

"Amazing," you breathed, hand dropping back down to your side. "I've never been able to make myself feel that way."

"I'm glad," he purred into your skin.

"It's just," he paused at the concern in your voice. "It was so good, but I'm not sure if I remember everything you did properly…" You let the statement hang with intention.

You felt him start to harden beneath you as he pulled you closer.

"Oh, I would be happy to show you again. As many times as you need…"

#the band ghost #ghost band #swiss x reader #ghost band fic #smut #my writing #visific

135 notes · View notes

godiloveteeth · 1 year

Text

TMA entities (+ extinction)'s sex appeal ranked lowest to highest

This is a list based on the entity's themselves, NOT the avatars, this is not how I personally would rank them, but how I think they would place if it was voted. (Only a little biased)

The Lonely - the freezing feeling of fog and loneliness kills the sexy vibes. Being left deserted in a waste land, stuck only with yourself with little recollection of who or what you are.

The Extinction - this one is only ranked a little higher than the lonely is because the vibes are just sexier, that's it.

The Eye - the eye feels like it would be very sexy in theory, but in practice, not so much. It would know you inside and out. Also the eye loves gay people <3<3

The Corruption - You would never be alone, constantly feeling how much the things around and in you absolutely adore you. They are the blood in your veins, they are the beating of your heart. They would become you and you would become them

The Stranger - this definelty appeals to monsterfuckers. I don't have much else to say

The Slaughter - I definelty think the aggression and how passionate it can be would be pretty appealing. They are more interested in the catch than the chase.

The Web - The feeling of a complete loss of control, letting yourself be guided by the hand of others, being wrapped up in its web, leaving you weak and bound, only there to serve it. You are its most prized possesion

The Spiral - the spiral frees one from human fears, but yet solidifies so many. It is the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning

The Vast - the feeling of falling, so freeing, so loving, asphyxiation and the feeling of rushing air as you plummet to the never ending sky

The Flesh - The ability to shape themselves to anyone's greatest desires, regardless of how physics feels about it. The flesh definelty appeals to monsterfuckers

The Hunt - the Hunt is a whole ass kink with its predator pray thing it's got going on. Fight me

The Dark - the dark being the only thing to see, and the only rhing that sees you. Anything can be there, loving and caring for its keep. Also have you SEEN the simps for it??

The End - the never ending feeling of you being its. Its eternal embrace being the only thing you know, and all you need to know. Also, tentacles.

The Buried - The overwhelming love for its victims, how it will smother them just to keep them there with it. Hold you within its loving embracing, and leaving only you and its love between you.

The Desolation - the burning passion of the desolation, how it will fight to get what it wants and will not settle for less. It is the warmth of your home and the burning of your veins. It will burn through itself and others just to get want it wants.

163 notes · View notes

ego-sum-ex-altiora · 4 months

Text

You Can't See Me (text below link)

Chapter 1: Martin

Martin never liked being touched.

Not that anyone cared or- in saying that- even knew about this dislike. He was always the one people went to for physical comfort, the one who “gave good hugs”- though he knew the latter was just because he was on the chubbier side. Maybe it was the self-consciousness this caused, or his mother’s insistence on physical closeness, but either way; Martin Blackwood did not like hugs.

He supposed that this was why he was so drawn to Jon- beyond the distracting softness of his silver and raven-black hair; the way it framed his face when whisps fell from his bun. Beyond the way his eyes looked soft beyond his stern expression, and how his cold hands and tone when accepting tea sent shivers through Martin that could not be described as unpleasant or unwelcome. Beyond the button-ups and grandpa sweaters that the others said aged him, but Matin felt only gave him a soft charm. And beyond-

So, maybe Martin’s dislike of physical comfort wasn’t the only reason he liked Jon. But he still liked the idea of not constantly being expected to touch his partner, and rumour has it, Jonathan Sims didn’t do that kind of stuff.

Although, it was beginning to seem like “that kind of stuff” included noticing Martin.

Perhaps Jon’s coma, and apparent death, finally sent the message that Martin would never have a chance with him. Certainly, it was enough for Martin to finally embrace the Loneliness and give in to the isolating fog that had lingered around him for as long as he could remember.

There was a comfort in letting that Lonely feeling take over him, the way it took away all expectations. It justified his burning dislike of being touched, taking away any fear of hurting those around him by forcibly pushing them away. He was blissfully revoked of all self-consciousness; with no one around him, who’s judgement was he afraid of?

The Lonely’s fog had always sat thick and heavy in his chest, but its swirling blue-greys were beautiful in his eyes.

That’s what set him apart from Jon. His fog-filled vision was a welcomed comfort, fulfilling his desperate desire to escape the dreads of reality. Jon, however, was so fixated on seeking knowledge and information. He dedicated his life to research and collating information, trying to make sense of a meaningless universe filled with randomised events. Jon needed to know, to explain away everything that had ever hurt him. Martin just wanted to forget.

The Lonely could provide that to him.

Martin’s co-workers had sensed him losing himself. The cups of tea became less frequent, and the cheery air that used to follow him gradually became darker and cloudier; both figuratively and literally. Eventually, the fog formed a near-opaque barricade between him and everyone else. Those who tried finding him in the fog were blinded, and all he could see was the brief image of lost, searching eyes. Then, the fog would once again consume him and he would be utterly alone.

Eventually, they stopped trying to find him.

It was peaceful then. Without the desperate faces of those he once called friends reminding him of his isolation, Martin quickly found comfort in the empty fog. He could sit at his desk, uninterrupted, for hours on end. For the first time since he was first hired, he tried hard and got a large amount of work done. Best of all, he didn’t need to feel anything.

Just like he had wanted.

Chapter 2: Jon

It ripped Jon apart to be unkind to Martin, it really did, but the defensive move was all he knew. He didn’t have time to deal with feelings, it was easier for him to just push them deep down and try not to think about them.

That’s not to say he was heartless. Certainly, he was aware of how lovely it felt to be brought tea and checked in on, but he didn’t want to explore what exactly those feelings meant. He knew there was a reason why Martin was being so kind to him, but the implications of doing so were not something he wished to consider. It was far easier to snap at Martin over insignificant mistakes, cursing his foolishness. Of course, the guilt that made Jon feel was yet another feeling he didn’t want to look too deep into.

Blissful ignorance. That’s how he lived.

There was no dramatic gasp of air or sudden bolt upright when Jon awoke, he was simply no long unconscious. A bedside calendar marked the date as a shocking six months since he had last been conscious. His body was too frail and aching to move, he simply looked around in desperation for a familiar face. Even through his tear-blurred eyes, he knew the room was empty; there seemed to be a void where he knew someone should have been. Lost, Jon desperately called to someone he already knew was gone.

“Ma-Martin…”

Jon’s calls were answered by the rush of doctors and nurses entering his room, but he paid them no notice. All at once, he was achingly aware of a single fact; he loved Martin Blackwood.

The guilt that realisation filled him with was enough to tear him apart, the pain of warm and fuzzy love nothing compared to that of his regret. The regret he felt from lying to himself for so long, even when he knew Martin had felt the same way. The regret of pushing him away and hurting him.

The regret of leaving him alone all this time.

Jon desperately needed to go make amends, to fix the mess he had made out of what could have been love. He prayed he wasn’t too late, that he could still salvage the messy remains of his unrealised love.

He needed to go find Martin.

Much to the doctor’s dislike, Jon insisted on going to work. He had to, he needed to fix things with Martin as soon as he could. Maybe he still had a chance to make it work between them.

The tube to the institute was more than unpleasant, his still-weak frame rocking violently with each movement of the carriage. His sigh of relief was audible when he finally arrived at his stop, his legs still trembling slightly as he disembarked, but he was determined to keep moving.

Stepping through the doors into the research department felt like stepping into a new climate. There was a chill- not enough to call cold, but enough to cause discomfort- and a thick air that was stuffy and suffocating. For most people, especially those working with the paranormal, this would have immediately caused alarm.

The problem was, Jonathan Sims was not the type to leave a task unfinished. And unsettling cool drafts and humidity were not his top priority. He needed to focus on the problem at hand.

In his determination to make amends, Jon bumped, hard, into someone turning the corner. In the few moments it took to make sense of what had happened, he felt the cool air turn freezing and stab deep into his bones. The humid air became heavy fog, and blurred his vision.

Still, unmistakably, Martin Blackwood stood in front of him.

Chapter 3: Jon

Jon hated to admit it, but he had always admired Martin’s eyes. They were a muted green like a gentle forest, with prominent limbal rings the colour of a walnut tree. They had small specs of brown like the freckles that lined every inch of his body, that Jon had to resist getting lost in. Martin’s eyes almost always were bright and lit, indicative of his cheery mood.

Jon had, more than once, nearly been caught out admiring those eyes. Office meetings had often been spent fixated on them, which Martin had always mistaken as agitated glares. On more than one occasion, his co-workers had needed to bring his focus back to the meeting, after he had gotten a tad too distracted and ended up spacing out, lost in thought.

Now, there was no light or sparkle to his eyes, their freckles nearly as paled as the rest of his goose-bumped skin. His once-green eyes faded to near-grey, and they held an absent expression. They could barely even be called his, Jon was standing face-to-face with a pair of empty, unseeing eyes.

The fluttery butterfly-like sensation of finally planning to confess his feelings had vanished, replaced with a dread that felt as heavy as boulders in his chest. Jon knew exactly what he was looking at, and it certainly was not Martin Blackwood.

He was looking the Lonely dead in the eyes.

The Lonely did not look back at him, though. That pair of greenish-grey eyes looked beyond him, deep into the never-ending fog, and Jon knew he was not being seen.

Even beyond those empty eyes, Martin looked terrible. He had always been so cheery that his empty expression made him almost unrecognisable. He was pale, sickly so, and his typically fiery-ginger hair was a dull burnt orange. Though his physical frame was no different, he felt small and fragile. Jon couldn’t explain how, but somehow Martin looked lonely.

It was only then, seeing the Lonely in Martin, that Jon began to see it in himself. He began to see his pathetic, friendless self, caused by his neglect and disrespect of those around him. Caused by his hostility to the few people who truly loved him; his hostility to Martin.

Jonathan Sims was a terribly lonely man, and by nothing but his own fault.

The gap between the pair felt near-infinite, as if Martin stood on another planet. Jon reached outward and, before realising the gravity of what he was about to do, grabbed hold of Martin’s hand.

The touch was beyond gentle, uncharacteristically so on Jon’s behalf, but Martin’s whole body jerked backwards from the contact. Even so, Jon refused to let go. Martin stared down at their interlocked hands, as if desperately trying to see, and Jon remained latched on. The blank face that watched Jon told him what he needed to do.

He needed to pull Martin out of the Lonely.

Chapter 4: Martin

Martin flinched away from being touched that he very nearly fell over backwards, but whatever gripped his hand was determined to stay latched on. It had been months since anyone but Peter Lukas had come near him, and Peter wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type.

Martin didn’t understand. People weren’t supposed to be able to come near him, his fog was supposed to keep them away. It was supposed to keep him safe, where he couldn’t hurt anyone or be hurt. The touch he had felt was an invasion, an unwelcomed visitor who seemed determined not to leave. He wasn’t supposed to be able to feel anyone, hear anyone, see-

Martin gradually became aware of a voice; faint, but clearly calling to him. Something inside him could recognise it, a distant memory of a time when he wasn’t lonely. Well, was he ever not lonely? He couldn’t remember, and he couldn’t remember that voice, so achingly familiar yet unknown in that vast fog. He could make out a sound coming from that voice, a distant word that could have been his name.

Martin forced his mind to remember, forced his mouth to speak for the first time in months. His voice croaked from lack of use, but he made a single, barely comprehensible sound.

“Jon?”

His vision still swirled, so strong he could barely make out his own body, yet his mind focused, so sure it was Jon. Or was he only hoping it was Jon? The thought crossed his mind briefly, before he shoved it away. Jon’s voice slowly came into focus, his words becoming more comprehensible.

“Martin? Are you with me? Listen to me, I’m going to find a way to break you out of here.”

Martin stared down at his seemingly empty hand, his fingers pried apart by an unseeable force. Though he had no visualisation to be sure, Martin realised he was holding hands with Jonathan Sims.

Martin lurched forward, falling into the space he desperately prayed was occupied by Jon. He leaned into a small, cold, and yet surprisingly comforting frame, that felt exactly as he had imagined hugging Jon would. His eyes forced themselves shut, great big sobs being wretched from deep inside of him, dampening Jon’s shirt.

When Martin’s tears stopped enough to reopen his eyes, the fog felt different. He was sure it was further away, and a less dark, foreboding grey. He was acutely aware of the fact that he could no long see through the figure that held him.

He took a step backwards, frantically reaching his hands towards where Jon’s face should have been. He made contact with what was a blurred shadow in his vision, and squinted in a desperate attempt to make out the figure in front of him. The comfortingly familiar face of Jon slowly came into focus, his edges softly blurred.

With remnant tears in his eyes, Martin’s legs shook violently as Jon half supported him with a firm embrace. Jon apologised, tears welling in his own eyes.

“I’m sorry, Martin, for everything. I’m not going to let anything else hurt you, myself included.”

It was enough to again set Martin off with huge, heaving sobs, burying himself deeper in Jon’s shoulder. Jon gave a weak smile before speaking, the strongest he could manage, that filled Martin with a fuzzy feeling of anticipation.

“I love you, and I wish I’d realised it sooner.”

24 notes · View notes