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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

They Always Do.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: insecurity

Requested: Nope

Summary: "you're not worried? he seems to be spending a lot of time with her..." "no" "why not?" "because i braced myself for this months ago. they leave, they always do. it's nothing new"

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! The first part of this fic is fluff, angst in the middle, fluff again at the end. Nothing too extreme, just a little one-shot. Enjoy!

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"Sebastian, Y/N, so glad you made it!" Susan Downey smiled warmly at the couple. "Of course, we couldn't miss the 56th birthday of the one and only Iron Man," Sebastian chuckled, walking into the house with his girlfriend. He put his arm around Y/N, observing the place. "Guys! Hello!" they heard.

"Mr Downey," Y/N greeted politely, turning to smile at the birthday boy. "You must be the girlfriend," he grinned, pulling her into a bear hug. "Yep, that's me." Then he turned to Sebastian, frowning. "Why didn't you introduce her to everyone sooner?" Y/N laughed as Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging.

"Don't ask me, she was the one too chicken to meet you!" Sebastian defended himself, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend. She snorted as Robert let go of her, returning to Sebastian's side. "I guess that's on me," she sighed dramatically, making both men laugh. "Well, enjoy yourselves! Have a drink, have fun!"

With that, he walked away. Sebastian noticed a server holding up a tray of drinks and called him over. He handed a glass to Y/N and took one for himself, taking a sip. "Thanks for bringing me over, honey," Y/N smiled and he turned to her, scoffing. "You're my girlfriend! God knows they were dying to meet you," he laughed, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

With that they went around the place, talking to new people, old friends and making new acquaintances. Y/N had a lot of fun meeting Sebastian's co-stars, and especially loved Elizabeth Olsen. Y/N was a huge Marvel fan and one of her favorite works of the MCU was WandaVision. Y/N had fangirled a bit, not gonna lie.

Like that passed an hour. After her feet started hurting, Sebastian decided it was time for the woman to sit down, have a drink and chill out. "Okay doll, here's a glass of champagne, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I'm going there, with Chris and Anthony. I love you." She smiled when he gave her a quick kiss.

"I love you too, and don't worry, I'll find you easy. This place isn't that big."

"I heard that!"

Laughing at her antics, Sebastian gave his girlfriend one more loving kiss before prancing out of the room in search of his best friends, Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie. Y/N relaxed on the comfortable couch with a sigh, sipping on her drink. It all began a year ago, very cheesily, might I add.

Y/N was at her favourite coffee shop when he had walked in. Immediately, fans had him surrounded, but she didn't go over to him. She stayed seated, looking at him, wishing she could go over but she knew how stressful fan interactions were for celebrities. Sebastian had, unfortunately, caught her eye and she had turned beet red, burying her face in her laptop.

He had found her absolutely winsome and after the crowd around him had dissipated, he had wandered over to her table and introduced himself. She was flustered around him, which made him tingly inside. And he had blurted out, "Wanna meet here next Saturday at 7?" They kept their promise and that's how they started dating.

A year ago.

That was a healthy amount of time.

Right?

Y/N couldn't help but have her doubts. All her previous relationships were pathetic failures, where the guy usually got bored of her within 3 months. But now, she had braced herself for rejection (which she knew deep down wasn't coming but it pays to be careful). "Hey."

Startled, she turned to see a kinda young, kinda drunk woman sitting next to her, looking up at her with doe eyes. "Hi," Y/N smiled back politely. "You're— you're the woman!" She had started slurring her words, which made Y/N frown a bit. "I'm… what?" she blinked. "The girl! Who came over with Sebastian Stan, you're his girlfriend!" The woman laughed loudly.

A few heads turned towards them but quickly looked away when they realized that the girl was drunk. "Yep, that's me. Why?" Y/N was now amused. As they talked, she didn't notice Sebastian walking into the room. He had come back to ask Y/N something but had paused in his tracks when he saw her frowning at the young, drunk woman.

Then he inched closer, unabashedly eavesdropping on her conversation. "Yep, saw him spending a lot of time with Ms Lizzie Olsen. If he was mine, girl, I would take that man home and show him who truly belongs to him, if you know what I mean," the girl winked and a sad smile bloomed on Y/N's face. "They're good friends, of course they're gonna spend time together."

Sebastian smiled at her answer. He knew she was different, she didn't get easily jealous and he liked that, since it reduced the number of arguments they had by a lot. His jealousy? Well, that's a story for another time… "You don't mind? He seems to be spending a lot of time with her…" the drunk woman frowned at Y/N.

Well, she was drunk, she wouldn't remember this night anyway, so maybe… it would be good to get some things off her chest.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I braced myself for this months ago. They leave, they always do. It's nothing new," Y/N admitted, swirling the champagne that was swimming in her half-full glass. Sebastian's heart shattered into a million pieces at her words. Before the words were even completely out of her mouth, tears had started stinging in his eyes.

"Y/N?" Startled yet again, Y/N turned to see Sebastian smiling at her. "Seb! Hi, thought you were with your friends!" she grinned at him. "I— uh— something came up, we need to go," he spoke quietly, fidgeting with his hands. Y/N's brows furrowed but she got up, collecting her coat and her purse.

"Can we at least say Happy Birthday to Robert?"

"Yeah, yeah of course." Sebastian managed a weak smile when she gave him a kiss on the cheek, going off to find Robert and Susan. She told them something urgent came up and they allowed the couple to leave. "Seb, let's go!" He followed her out of the house, meekly trailing behind her, the words she said ringing in his ears.

They leave, they always do. It's nothing new.

How had this woman, practically a Goddess, had such bad experiences that she was forced to think that way? He was never going to leave her, having found the perfect woman at last. He got into the driver's seat of his car, and the car ride home was quiet. Y/N was getting anxious. What happened to him? Did something happen at the party?

Once they were home, Sebastian couldn't help himself. "S—" Y/N yelped when he crushed her to his body, hugging her tightly. He took both of them to their shared bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her on his lap and buried his face in her chest, breaking down. "Seb, honey, what's wrong?" Y/N cooed, getting insanely paranoid.

The crying didn't stop for 15 minutes. Y/N, in a futile attempt to get him to stop, was running a hand through his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, holding him close. When he took in a shuddering breath, he pulled away and finally looked Y/N in her eyes. "Now are you going to tell me what happened?" she smiled gently.

He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her wrist. "I'm sorry," he croaked out and Y/N frowned. "Sorry for what?" He shook his head, burying his face back in his safe haven. Except, Y/N wasn't having any of that. She pulled him away and dropped a soft kiss to his forehead. "Tell me what happened."

He took in another shaky breath.

"I… I heard you."

"Heard me?" Y/N blinked. "Yes. You were… you were talking to that girl on the couch and she was— she was talking about how I seem to be spending a lot of time with Lizzie and you— you said you didn't mind but she kept on insisting and you said they leave. they always do. I'm not going to leave you, Y/N, I promise. You're one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I'm not letting you go."

Oh.

"Seb," Y/N whispered, her own eyes now filled to the brim with tears. "Don't cry," he chuckled with a watery voice, wiping her tears off. "It's just— all my relationships before you… the guys were assholes. They always left 2-3 months in. I— I wasn't taking any chances with you, you know… plus, you're kind of a famous guy and you can get so many better women—"

He didn't want to hear it. Better than Y/N? Impossible. He pressed his lips to her, immediately deepening the kiss when she reciprocated. "I promise you, I cannot do any better than you." Y/N smiled shyly at his words and his heart filled with happiness. "Let's go to sleep."

Both of them tired from the crying, they got undressed without trying any funny business. Y/N put on her usual pair of shorts and one of Sebastian's huge t-shirts, getting into the bed where a boxer-clad Sebastian already lay. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his chest, draping an arm around his taut abdomen.

"Comfy?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, doll, I love you."

"I love you too, Seb. Goodnight."

"...Never gonna leave you."

"Not a chance."

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you liked it!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

If you’re taking requests, can you do 102 & 110 from the 390 prompt list for Bucky Barnes please 💛

Prompts used:

102. "I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you were okay."

110. "I just wanted you to know that when I picture myself happy...its with you."

A/N: I hope you all enjoy! 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was dark, filled with smoke and haze as Bucky looked around, attempting to figure out where he was. He waved his arm around trying to clear the path in front of him as his heart pounded in chest, threatening to burst through and bleed out. His mind was reeling as he tried to shut out the noise, screams, shouts, cries, and pleas that rushed to him all at once. It was so much, too much, at once and he felt like putting his hands over ears to ground himself.

His knees felt weak and shaky as he pushed himself to move forward and make some sense of his situation. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right -

But then he heard it. And it caused him to stop dead in his tracks and stand still. It was your voice, your very distressed cry meeting his ears.

"Bucky!"

His head whipped around so quickly it was a shock he didn't snap his own neck. Ragged breath and broken cries left his lips as he tried to make sense of where you were. He followed the trail of your voice as best as he could, pushing his way through crowds of people that were suddenly there.

"Help me!"

Blue eyes scanned the crowd as he looked through the frantic horde. A sound of frustration bubbled up in his throat, along with acid and bile when he realized you weren't nearby.

"Bucky!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky sat up rod straight as he tried to slow his breathing. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. At least he was safe, he realized as he grounded himself by looking around his small apartment. Refrigerator, television, table. Refrigerator, television, table. He repeated the phrase to bring himself down several times until he finally felt the panic subside. He held his tired face in his hands as he slowed and evened his breathing, reminding himself that this was all a nightmare. It wasn’t real, none of it was real - it was all a cruel ploy of his imagination.

With a loud sigh, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and glanced at the time. 3:33. It was too early for anyone to be logically awake, but too late for even night owls. Bucky threw off his thin blanket and stretched, all of his thoughts rushing back to you.

It was all a dream. He had to force himself to remember that. There was no reason for him to fly into a panic and come to check on you. But then again...he had the spare key to your apartment and could easily just pop in and check on you. Five minutes, he reasoned with himself, five minutes was all. In and out to ensure you were safely tucked into bed before he returned home to pretend nothing happened. He’d tell Dr. Raynor about this later. Maybe. He didn’t need her on his case even more about his nightmares and demons.

He quickly swiped his black t-shirt off the floor and tugged it on his haste, not even bothering to change out of his grey sweaters before sliding on his shoes and grabbed his keys. He had no doubt he looked like a mad man, more mad than he even felt half the time, but he didn’t care. There was only one thing on his mind right now and that was ensuring your safety.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When he reached your apartment, he was silent and aloof as he approached the door and looked around to see if anything was amiss; it all looked perfectly normal. Almost too normal in fact, and although the logical part of his mind knew he was overreacting, he couldn’t help but think of the worst possible things. Looking down the hallways, he made quick work of sliding his key in and quietly unlocking your door.

Windows closed, lights off, everything put neatly away as it always was. Not a thing out of place. He shut the door behind him, remembering too late that it always creaked if you closed it at a particular angle and grimaced at the sound. Hopefully you were deep enough in sleep that you wouldn’t stir. Bucky stealthed down the hall to where he spied your open bedroom door and heard the faint sounds of the television still.

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he realized you’d fallen asleep while watching your favorite show; you’d had it on in the background when you’d talked to him on the phone earlier too. And then there you were, sprawled across your bed in your pajamas, mouth open ever so slightly as you snored quietly. You were okay, he told himself, very much alive and very much okay. He nodded to himself as he grabbed the remote for the television and switched it off so you’d have full peace and quiet. But for some reason that was the singular act that snapped you out of your dream sleep and you sleepily rubbed at your eyes as you moved to sit up.

Bucky froze in terror as you yawned and opened your eyes to find him awkwardly standing there. Despite your sleepy state, you beamed at him and his heart relaxed as you held out a hands towards him, “hi Bucky. What are you doing here? ‘ts late and you should be sleeping, silly old man.”

Unable to stop, he came to you, taking your hand in his as he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, causing you to sigh softly, “I-I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“A nightmare?” you were suddenly wide awake as you looked at him with gentle, curious eyes. You pulled him towards you, “oh Bucky, I’m so sorry, my love. Stay - come lay with me.”

“It’s late,” he reminded you, “you need to sleep and I need to go.”

‘I’m not going to be able to sleep if I worry about you for the rest of the night,” you insisted firmly, standing up in front of him, “just get into bed with me, Bucky. Let me hold and you make sure you’re okay. I love you and just like you worry about me, I worry about you.”

“You don’t-”

“Don’t even try to argue with me James Buchanan Barnes,” you insisted gently, but with bite before you pressed a kiss to his lips. He relaxed, truly relaxed for the first time that evening as he keened into your body, “let me care of you too. You deserve it, Bucky. Stay with me?”

And who was he to refuse such an enticing offer? Blue eyes met your gentle ones as he bit his lip lightly before nodding. Your hands moved to his waist as you reached for the hem of his black shirt and slowly pulled it up and over, letting him discard onto the floor. A hand rested on his chest, just above his heart as you felt it beat, steady and true, under your palm. Bucky swallowed the lump on his throat at your small act of intimacy before letting a world weary exhale. You pressed a few kisses to the bare skin of his shoulder, working your way up his neck and jaw before pausing at his lips. He kicked off his shoes before letting you guide him into your soft, warm bed; it was always a comfort, just like you.

He made himself comfortable, burrowing his way under the covers and taking up the spot he normally occupied as you rejoined him. Curling around his body, you enveloped him, making him feel small and safe, and most importantly loved. It had been a rarity for him, before you came into his life, to feel like this, but you gave and gave and gave, almost never asking for anything in return. But he always gave back, as much as he could, because to him you were everything. Everything he was not, every bit of light and love that he wished he could be. But he was learning, learning to live and love again, and for whatever reason you were there with him, never thinking twice about your decision to so openly love and care for him.

You wrapped your arm around his waist as you rested your head against his back, but not before pressing a few more kisses to his warm, soft skin. He practically hummed in content as his restless thoughts lurched to a screeching halt.

“I know they seem real, Bucky, but they’re just nightmares. Nothing can hurt you anymore,” you whispered softly, tracing aimless shapes over his body, “you’re not him anymore, you’re you. And it’ll be okay, everything will be okay. I’ll fight off all your demons myself if I have to.”

Bucky choked up for a moment, unable to properly form any words, but you felt him nod lightly as he took your hand and laced your fingers together. You didn’t need him to say anything; you knew, you both knew. It was quiet for some time, and eventually you felt yourself start to drift off to sleep as his breathing became heavier and steadier.

“You’ve asked me before about why I stay with you,” you whispered to what you thought was a sleeping Bucky, “and I hope you know it’s because I love you - fully, and completely, every part and parcel. I just wanted you to know that when I picture myself happy...its with you. Always. And even if it takes you a while to realize that, I’ll always be by your side. I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. I am yours and you are mine.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide open now as he listened to your gentle words and stared out the window at the pale moonlight. Suddenly he felt calmer, more relaxed, like he was seeing things with a sense of clarity for the first time in a long time. He swallowed the lump that had welled up in his throat. Blinking back the stinging in his eyes, he brought your hand back up to his chest holding both of your hands above his heart. How vulnerable and human he felt in that moment - how loved.

“I love you, Bucky,” was the last thing you said once you closed your eyes.

You didn’t hear it, but if you’d been awake still, you’d have heard the gentlest I love you spill from his lips. But it was okay, because you knew. You knew.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Demon Brothers Getting Possessive at the Club

… I can explain. Or, well, no I can't. But this exists now anyway so enjoy?

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Yandere-ish, Violence

Intro: The MC and their favorite demon were just trying to have a fun night out at The Fall. The lights were going, the music was blaring, and the two of them were by the bar but there was a problem. Their demon noticed a sketchy creep who'd been eyeing their human all night long… and that simply won't do. So when their human left to use the bathroom…

It was time to take care of the problem.

Lucifer

Though Lucifer was usually less than into the club scene, the MC wanted a change of pace from their usual dates and he did so want to make them happy… At first, he thought he'd just be dealing with the loud noise and crowded atmosphere but then he noticed something else…

A demon had been following them through most of the night, always keeping his distance but staring at the MC far too much for his liking…

This put Lucifer in a bit of an odd position. He didn't exactly want to leave the club because the MC didn't look tired yet, but he also didn't like seeing that cretin following them around…

Yet, of course, it also rubbed his pride the wrong way to go tell him to stop directly. Lucifer would never admit to feeling bothered by some pitiful lesser demon… Never.

But by the time the MC left him to use the restroom, he was at his wit's end. He could see the man had taken a seat at the other end of the bar just to watch them and he was growing irritated… So he had to devise a new strategy.

It's unusual for demons to walk around in their true forms. It's not that it's frowned upon or anything, it's just that it's normally something reserved for big events… or for displays of dominance and control.

So when Lucifer slipped into his demon form in the middle of The Fall, it turned quite a few heads. Truthfully, there was only one head in particular that he wanted his way, and once he got it, he stared the guy down…

It was a taste of the lowlife's own medicine, but so much worse coming from him… The feel of Lucifer's bloody-onyx eyes and chillingly cold smile from across the bar could have made even the strongest men run for the hills…

Needless to say, the demon didn't last very long under the eldest brother's gaze. In fact, he wilted almost immediately before slinking away as quickly as he could…

A guy not even able to stomach the firstborn's stare? Truly a pathetic coward if Lucifer ever saw one.

He was totally back to normal by the time the MC returned and went back to dancing with them like nothing ever happened… Though his human couldn't help but notice the crowd kept their distance from them for the rest of the night...

Eh, Hell is just weird sometimes isn't it?

Mammon

Look, Mammon had been trying to have some fun the whole night and for the most part he'd been succeeding except for one thing…

He could sense that asshole still hadn't left them alone. He'd just hover near him and his MC like a hellhound stalking prey… It was annoying. It was creepy…

And it was reeeaaallly getting on his nerves.

When the MC left for the restroom, he was leaning back against the bar scanning the room for their abhorrent admirer while using the tint of his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

It didn't take him long to see the gross fuck sitting alone at a table. Who knew what he was planning... following them home? Taking candid shots of MC? Either way, he wanted to sock him in the jaw…

But, of course, Mammon knew he had to play it just a little smoother than that to stay in the club.

Mammon sauntered over to the man's table and invited himself to sit, kicking his feet up to look casual but knocking his boots against the surface so roughly it made the guy jump... Pathetic.

"Oi, so I've seen ya lookin at my human… Real work of art, eh?" He flashed the guy a fanged grin and watched him sweat for a second before cutting off any answer.

"-'course they are. Don't need to tell me. But I gotta say, you're really ticking me off, bud… We're just tryin to enjoy ourselves but I keep seeing your ugly mug wherever we're at."

He pulled his legs back from the table and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a deck of playing cards.

"Tell ya what, I'm feelin oddly generous so let's play a game. You and me. If ya win, I'll let ya have a night with'em…" He fought the urge to punch the guy when he saw his eyes light up, "but if I win…"

Mammon put the deck on the table then leaned in real close, "I'll flay your skin off and gild ya skeleton in the 4th circle myself… Gold skulls are selling like hotcakes right now." He put every bit of malice he could into the threat, even barring his increasingly sharpening fangs.

The guy must of had a good head on him because he paled immediately before getting up and running from the table. If there's one thing everybody knows about Mammon, it's never play cards with him if he can make even a single Grimm… Chances are, you're gonna lose.

When the MC came back, Mammon flagged them down to their new table and pulled them onto his lap for a little chat before getting more drinks. They're his human. His.

Leviathan

Of course Levi noticed this creep the second that they walked in. He's Envy. He had been hyper-vigilant of all the attention the MC had been receiving since their first step inside. But this guy was… persistent.

He'd been tailing them all night, always finding spots with good vantage points, which of course was sketch as hell but...

Honestly? Levi just didn't like him looking at them. Not at all. In fact, he'd hazard to say he truly hated this complete stranger for how much real estate his eyes were taking up of his precious MC… What gave him the right??

By the time the MC had to use the restroom, he was sitting at the bar seriously contemplating whether or not to just carry them home… He didn't like night clubs anyway, but they seemed to be having fun and they always looked so cute while dancing…

No. He couldn't just take them home. But once they left, he had a much better idea.

It was easy for Levi to slip away from the bar. The asshole was leaned back against a nearby wall and pretty much pulled his phone out the second the MC was out of sight. From there, Levi only had to do what he did best, blend into the background, until he was right next to the guy...

He didn't say anything. He didn't give him any warning or threat. No, no he was far too ticked to be that charitable…

The only indication the man got of how royally he fucked up was the searing pain of Levi's fangs digging into his shoulder, the thirdborn's gloved hand muffling his screams until the venom took hold of his prey.

The last thing that man ever saw, propped up and paralyzed against the wall, was the MC coming back to their docile otaku, who now pulled them into his arms… still shooting the occasional smirk in his victim's direction.

And the last thing he ever heard was the same word his killer whispered to him after his throat became too tight to scream… "Mine."

Satan

This always seemed to happen whenever he took the MC places… They could be walking together in the park and he'd still see lesser demon eyes following them around...

Frankly, it did piss him off to a degree. He knew they never asked to be stared at like a piece of meat, but if he'd go on a rampage every time it happened then they'd never have a quiet date again. So he learned to put up with it… to an extent.

The demon that had been following them that night was really testing his notoriously short patience...

He had tried several tactics to shake the guy as they were dancing but he'd always come right back. He even got more handsy than normal to show, "Hey, this one is mine!" but that had gotten him equally dismal results… It was bordering the line of disrespect now.

He did his best to keep up a friendly face while the MC was with him, but they must have noticed he'd gotten tense. They told him to try and relax a bit before they left for the bathroom…

Oh, he was going to relax alright.

The second they were out of sight, Satan's smile broke into a glare he leveled right at the offending scumbag's table. Of course, seeing the MC had left put the guy's attention elsewhere, but that was his funeral.

Satan knew his time was limited, so he skipped the pleasantries and marched right over to him, slamming his foot down onto the edge of the table with such force it threatened to tip it over then grabbed him by the neck.

"Back. OFF."

It really didn't take much, his reputation preceded him. He felt the guy's pulse skyrocket between his fingers before he let him go.

It was hard not to get a little satisfaction when watching the worthless creep scramble away from him like his life depended on it (as it very much did). He almost considered giving chase just to amp up the fun, but the MC returned sooner than he expected…

A pair of arms around his waist and lips against his cheek were enough to evaporate his anger right then… but it didn't settle his sudden need to mark them in the slightest.

Ultimately, the real question was whether he could wait until they got home to show the world that they were his or if they needed to find somewhere… quieter. No promises, MC.

Asmodeus

Asmo had dealt with his fair share of admirers, the stalking kind included. Fortunately, dealing with them had always been relatively easy for him (he is a ruler of Hell after all) but one targeting his beloved human…? That was far less acceptable in his eyes.

He caught sight of the beady eyes of the creep while he was dancing with the MC. At first, he thought the guy was looking at him (who wouldn't?) but then he followed his eyeline right to his lovely human companion…

Though he couldn't exactly blame him for staring, he and MC made a fantastic looking pair, he definitely couldn't sit idly by either. People like this are usually bad news and he refused to let any harm come to his MC…!

He was as tactful as ever, though. He liked The Fall and would rather not be banned from returning… He waited patiently for the MC to go to the bathroom before making his way over to the creep, his perfect smile still sitting on his face.

"Excuse me, cutie." He waited for the stalker's eyes to leave his phone and settle on Asmo's own. "Ah, there you are! Good. I had a question for you, I think… oh no, I must have forgotten it! Silly me."

Though he could see the demon was growing annoyed, Asmo stalled for just a few moments longer… just long enough for his bewitching charm to set into his victim's mind.

"Ah! Now I remember. Do you like dogs?" He smiled in satisfaction to see the creeper's head nod slowly. "Oh good! Because I know a very hungry dog right now… Cerberus is his name and I don't think he's had a meal today. Would you be a doll and go feed him for me? He lives in the cave behind the House of Lamentation. You can't miss him."

The demon's head nodded slowly yet again as he rose from his chair and walked out of the club quietly. Quick, painless, and with no messy cleanup!

Well… none that Cerberus wouldn't clean up for him anyway. Asmo returned to the bar with a newly giddy grin on his face... His MC wouldn't be seeing that man ever again~!

Beelzebub

Beel is very patient. Beel is very kind. Beel is very forgiving. Beel is… really not about this right now...

Unlike his brothers, Beel's easygoing nature made him less quick to pick up on the lingering glances that the MC gets from others. Even when he does notice, he can usually let it slide if looking is all they do (he's the only one who can touch after all).

But even he couldn't miss how wolfishly that demon was staring at them… It made him uncomfortable and the guy just refused to leave them alone…

By the time the MC left Beel at the bar to use the restroom, he was on a level of irritated usually only reserved for when someone denied him food… It was like that jerk had taken a cheese grater to his patience and it was wearing thin…

As much as he knew he could deck him, he didn't want to get them kicked out… The MC was having such a good time, despite the creep's ogling, so he used a different approach…

Being so high up in Hell had its perks and one was that anywhere in town that offered food also had a secret menu… A Beelzebub Only menu (as a precaution so that he wouldn't wreck the place whenever he stopped by). Anything on his menu always had huge portions and The Fall was no exception.

The bartender didn't seem too surprised when he ordered a Drakon Leg, but he was very surprised when he asked to get the full bone too… Not with the meat on it. Just the bone.

Fun Fact: the bones of Drakons are supremely thick and strong enough to be used as clubs.

Even More Fun Fact: it takes an incredible amount of force to snap these bones…

...which Beel did without breaking a sweat… and maintaining eye contact with the creep The. Entire. Time. The sound of the bone snapping in two was almost as deafening as a gunshot and he didn't even flinch.

The demon went running out of the club with his tail between his legs and quickly got swapped out for the MC running back, worried about what made such a loud noise…

Of course, by that time Beel had the bone thrown away and was chowing down on the meat like nothing ever happened so they dropped the subject soon enough...

He may not be as open about when he claims someone as the rest of his family but that's because when push comes to shove, who in their right mind would want to challenge Beel anyway...?

Belphegor

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope, he's not having this. Not one bit.

Belphie lacks a lot of the good-natured patience of his twin... Chances are if there's something happening and he's not stopping it, it's just because putting up with it is the path of least resistance…

But there are always exceptions and those are usually reserved for the MC.

Strangers trying to get close or even imagining themselves being with MC really makes his blood boil… He knew them the most. He loved them the most. On just what grounds did some random moron think he could take his place?? Wishful thinking? Keep dreaming, buddy.

So, of course, he wasn't happy when he noticed some asshole staring at the MC like Beel does when he sees a havoc roast...

He kept his poker face up while he was with the MC, but he was devising a plan to take care of him the entire time… One he finally got the chance to enact once the MC went to the bathroom.

He's even better at going unnoticed than Levi, so sneaking his way over to the asshole was a piece of cake. He didn't notice until Belphie casually draped his arm around the guy's neck, hanging his clawed hand dangerously close to the scumbag's heart...

"Having a good time…?"

He could feel a shallow swallow against his arm as he began to slowly apply pressure to his trachea.

"I bet you were… and I was too until I saw you following us… Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I uh-Gah!"

The guy's voice gets cut off by Belphie's arm getting even tighter, the sharp tips of his claws drumming directly over the man's thundering heart.

"Ugh, that's what you actually sound like? Never mind, it's not worth knowing…" His fingers stopped drumming and slowly began to dig into his skin...

"I'm only going to say this once… If I ever see you tailing my human again, you won't be needing this-" his claws drilled a little deeper into his chest, "-anymore. Am I clear?"

The demon's head nodded as much as his strangled throat would allow and Belphie finally retracted his claws, wiping the blood off on the guy's shirt before letting him go. He fell forward onto all fours before attempting to scramble away as fast as he could...

Belphie watched him go with disinterest on his face, but satisfaction in his heart. Yet another threat to his human dealt with… And they could go back to enjoying their evening together. Alone. Just where his human belonged...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #tw: yandere #tw: possessive behavior #tw: paralysis #tw: violence #tw: mentions of death

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deborahmessingsfingers · 3 years

Text

I’m Tired

pairings: bo burnham x reader

word count: 3283

tags/warnings: explicit language, mental health issues, mental breakdown, angst, hurt/comfort, sad Bo, gender neutral reader

also on ao3

Bo had been off for a while. He’d only been working on the special for a few months when you noticed the first sign. He started to talk a little less, which at first glance, you weren’t too worried about. He often became quite reclusive and introspective when it came to his writing process, channeling all of his energy into planning and drafting.

It’d happened before, when he was in the early stages of producing Eighth Grade. Conversation grew thin and infrequent, all of his time and energy was spent planning, writing and ruminating, though as the process progressed from writing to filming, his sparkle returned and you could see the life and excitement dancing around in his eyes once more.

Since he started Inside, you were lucky if you got to see his eyes at all.

At first, he’d come bouncing back from the guest house each evening, excited to discuss his latest ideas and concepts, eager to receive your feedback and the fresh perspective you gave.

This routine was quick to disappear.

Every day, he’d come back from the guest house a little later and a little more deflated until your interactions were limited to a kiss good morning and a kiss good night.

Eventually he stopped coming to bed all together. You never went into the guest house so as not to disturb his flow, but you assumed he’d taken to sleeping on the fold-out couch. You’d hoped he was sleeping at least, for the sake of his well being.

You missed him. God, you missed him, more than you ever thought possible. Despite the fact that he was a mere few feet away from your front door, you felt more distanced from him now than the times he’d been on the other side of the country, touring, performing, and seeing the world.

He’d always been like that. Limitations in physical proximity could only wedge such a divide between you two, it was always the inner demons and anxieties that caused the rifts.

You attempted to rip the bandaid off after a month of the same, silent routine. You anxiously approached the guest house with the best olive branch you had available; a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee. Your free hand knocked on the door of the guest house tentatively, not wanting to disturb him in the middle of something.

No answer.

You knocked again, still quietly, but with more intention.

No answer.

You shakily grasped the doorknob and twisted, your mind flicking through every dreadful outcome. Opening the door, you see one outcome you didn’t quite anticipate.

The room was dark and humid, the space overwhelmingly cluttered with miscellaneous cords, lights and stands.

And in the middle of all of the chaos, he was just… sitting there.

Hunched over the keyboard in the corner of the room. He just sat and stared at the keys, his white-knuckled fists resting on his thighs. You immediately noticed just how long his hair had grown, long enough to cover his eyes, the rest of his face hidden in it’s shadows. He appeared completely immersed in his own world, clearly missing all your attempts at grabbing his attention.

“Bosey,” you said, your tone just short of a whisper, head cocking to the side to see him a little better from the doorway. Bo inhaled sharply as his head turned to face you, seemingly pulled from his thoughts. His brow was quick to furrow.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asked. His voice was raspy and hoarse, not unlike how it sounded first thing in the morning. It reminded you so much of all the mornings spent waking up next to him, often in his arms, spending hours upon hours talking until noon about anything and everything, at least until you were cast out of your cloud of bliss by your worldly responsibilities. God, how you missed those moments.

“I thought I’d just come check on you. Didn’t think you’d eaten anything in a while so,” you paused, setting the peace offering down with a quiet clink, “thought I’d make myself useful.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and his thanks was expressed simply by mirroring your unconvincing grin. He tutted, running his hands through his hair, as he often did when nervous. You could tell he was exhausted; the bags under his eyes were so dark and he could hardly make conversation with the one person who knew him best.

The air was thick with tension, the awkwardness quickly made you both uncomfortable and your head was reeling with anxieties on how you wound up feeling like this; like an unwelcome stranger in your own guest house.

“You been sleeping okay?” you asked, hand gently gesturing to the fold-out couch behind him as you lent against the doorframe. You felt slight comfort at the sight of tangled bedsheets, though the relief was quickly expunged as you lost count of the wires and equipment covering the mattress.

“Y-Yeah, i’ve been... It’s fine,” he sighed, his large hand wrapping around his jaw to scratch the sides of his beard, “I’m just a little busy right now honey, I-I gotta get back to it.”

His hands slapped his thighs matter-of-factly before he stood up, shuffling towards the back of the room. He began to fiddle with equipment, pointlessly messing around with a tangle of cords he’d picked up from the kitchen bench.

Your eyes instinctively closed shut as you felt a wave of dizziness hit you. His avoidant nature and impatience all but confirmed it; he was not doing well.

You felt incredibly and painfully torn. You knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, but if there was one thing you were both unsure of, it was how to handle situations like these. Pressing any harder would only prove to make him snap, though leaving him to his own devices would only further encourage his bad habits.

You could ruminate on this dilemma for the rest of your life to no avail, but an instinct deep within you pushed you to query just a little more, to try and reach out as gently as you could.

“Have you thought about, um…” you faltered, scrambling to find the right words, “taking a break soon, honey? Even just a little one? I know how important this is to you, but I know in the past you’ve burnt yourself out, and maybe even if you just came inside for a shower, just to reset and maybe just-”

“I said I’m fine.” he interjected harshly. You were caught off guard, now feeling sheepish and bewildered, truly feeling like an intruder. You kicked yourself inwardly for pushing too far, you knew this would happen. You opened your mouth to try and apologise, to take back the supposed infringement, but his voice came through when your own refused.

“I’m about to start filming. Could you…” he asked, hoping you’d get the message and leave without having to ask you explicitly. You were too befuddled to push any further, already regretting the attempts you’d made.

“Of course, sorry honey.” you replied, shaking your head. Your lips pressed together in a tight, forced smile until you left and shut the door behind you. The slam was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You shook your head to try and clear it, trying with all your might to move on from the incident and figure out a plan moving forward.

He said he was fine.

You knew he wasn’t.

There were a few times you thought it was all going to be okay. Shortly after the guest house dispute, you were surprised by the sound of the back door being opened. He greeted you with a tired smile and you quickly snaked your arms around him, holding on to him for dear life, telling yourself you’d never let go again.

He sat with you in the kitchen, peacefully watching you cook. You could tell he missed your company just by the soft smile on his face, the first one you had seen in a long time, and you beamed at the very sight of him sitting contently with Bruce on his lap. There wasn’t much conversation over dinner, though compared to earlier, the awkwardness was nonexistent. Until dessert.

You wanted to pull out all the stops, utilising every second of this rare quality time to enjoy his company and to show him how much difference a few hours of luxury and relaxation can make.

You left him lounging on the couch to make his favourite dessert - sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream. You were so relieved you could scream at just the simple thought of him zoning out in front of the television with the dogs, truly letting himself just be, for the first time in a long time.

When the pudding was ready however, your cheesy grin quickly dropped as you realised you were presenting dessert to an empty room. The dogs were quick to start barking, running back and forth between yourself and the back door, and you nearly dropped the plates at the sound of that heinous shed door closing once more. You couldn’t believe it. Just when you thought things were starting to look up, he waltzes straight back towards the problem itself.

Not thinking for a second, you set the plates down and marched over to the guest house. You didn’t bother to knock this time, instead assertively opening the door to see him already settled with a keyboard on his lap. His head flew up at the sound of your entrance, mouth flying open with silent questions. You stopped for a moment - both of you did, a little surprised at your bold entry. Coming to your senses, your gait quickly softened, hands clasped loosely in front of you so as not to alarm him.

“I-I made dessert. Your favourite.” you explained meekly, watching him from the doorway once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, filling you with a sense of dread. You knew what would happen if you pushed it, but here you were. You were so desperate at this point, missing the man you fell in love with and frightened of the shell he’d become. Even more so than that, you were frightened for him.

Bo had always had trouble accepting help, and the idea of him asking for it was inconceivable. He’d opened up to you over time about a lot of things, but every time it got a little more serious he’d close up like a clam, refusing entry into his world until the situation simply dissipated.

“I can’t, I’m busy.” he deadpanned, fiddling around with the microphone stand. You could feel the wave of disappointment wash over you once more. For a few hours, you really thought things had taken a turn for the better, for a few hours your hopes had been lifted, all for it to just come crumbling back down tenfold. The adrenaline quickly hijacked your brain, talking on your subconscious’ behalf before you had a moment to strategize.

“You’re always busy.” you snapped. Your voice wasn’t that loud, but you knew he could hear it shake, months of anxiety and concern finally bubbling over. Your fear only grew when you saw a glint of rage flicker behind his eyes.

“It’s my job.” he rebutted with a swift, disapproving shake of his head.

“But you always push yourself too far, Bo. I know you’re just so passionate about what you do, but you always end up so burnt out and I-”

“Stop saying that!” he bellowed, finally placing the keyboard aside and standing up to face you. His height has never intimidated you, but the way in which he towered over you made you feel so small and powerless.

“You keep saying that when I'm not, it’s like you want me to be, like you want me to stop working.” he explained sternly. You felt your words get trapped in your throat, hyper-aware and petrified of digging this hole any deeper.

“I don’t want you to be burnt out, Robert,” you explained, using his full name in hopes it would better emphasize your sincerity, “I just care about you. I’ve seen this happen to you before, when you just go and go and go until you can’t anymore, you stop eating, you stop sleeping and you never talk to anyone about it, you just bottle it all up and let it eat you alive. And I mean, I miss you. God, I miss you so much, but more importantly than that right now, I’m worried about you.” you blurted.

You could feel your body tremble, your veins flooding simultaneously with relief and pure fear after finally airing the grievances you’ve fostered for months.

You watched as he processed your words. You might have just been projecting, but for a moment, you swore you saw his face soften, a part of him wanting so desperately to give in, to surrender and let you help. Lamentably, he huffed out a tired, contemptuous laugh.

After all you said, he simply turned his back to you, picked up his keyboard and continued on like you hadn’t said a peep. For a moment, you stood there, truly gobsmacked, but the piercing screeches of his synthesizer were enough to usher you out the door and back to the house, not stopping until you were in bed and crying into your pillow.

Your mind wouldn’t let up, over-processing every word he spoke, every breath he took, looking for illusory warning signs that this was it. All the years you’d spent together, all the hard work and love and dedication you’d poured into the relationship, all of the sacrifices, all of the rewards, it was all now null and void because you’d pushed him too far.

At some point, your mind had crossed over into the world of paranoia, manipulating every once-pleasant memory of the evening to fit your new narrative, that this was the end.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but the slightly-damp pillow was enough to indicate that it happened pretty fast. Your brain soon caught up with your body, picking up the very noise that woke you up - the shower.

You rose from your bed with a furrowed brow and made your way down the stairs as quietly as you could, as if your presence would scare him off like a fly. You made it face to face with the door of the guest bathroom, the shower was undoubtedly on, and from the excited state of the dogs, Bo was undoubtedly in there. You gently rested your hand against the door, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, you backed up and took refuge on the couch, allowing him space to wash away the day and hopefully clear his mind.

Ten minutes passed, you sat patiently, silently on the couch as you waited for the shower to stop.

Another ten minutes later and you hadn’t moved from your spot, save a few adjustments for Bruce who had curled up under your arm.

It had been half an hour since you sat and your nerves were multiplying by the second. You were using every fibre of your being to hold yourself back from going in there, no longer trusting that gut instinct that, once again, reared it’s ugly head. You could hear it’s faint screams echoing in the back of your head;

‘Push’.

The impulse grew more enticing with every passing second until it had been forty five minutes since you awoke and you could no longer wait.

Pacing up to the door, the hesitation that stopped you from going in last time revealed itself once more. The hesitation was quickly silenced, however, by the sound of muffled sobs.

Your heart was in your throat, your stomach twisting and churning itself into impossible knots in response to the muted lamentations. Your body turned to jelly as you dubiously opened the door, wincing at the creak of it’s hinges. You could feel your heart drop to the floor and shatter at the sight before you.

Bo was curled up in the corner of the bathtub, arms around his knees as his hair completely concealed his face. He was seemingly unbothered by the harsh, hot stream of water hammering against his head, and you could only just make out the shaking of his shoulders through the steam.

Without a moment of hesitation, you stepped out of your shoes, well beyond caring about the clothes you were wearing, and stepped into the bathtub fully clothed to sit behind him. Your legs splayed out on either side of him, and your arms quickly wrapped around to sit atop his own.

You could truly feel him crying now as he leant into your touch, too exhausted to fight any more. You could feel his laboured breathing, you could hear his wordless whispers as he tried and failed to speak. So you spoke for him.

“I’ve got you, Bo.” you said quietly, beginning to rock him back and forth and softly kissing his head. Finally, he managed to squeak out a few words,

“I’m so fucking tired.”

It was punctuated with a sob, and you had to muster every ounce of strength you had not to cry yourself. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d seen him stressed, you’d seen him deflated, you’d seen him tired, overworked and depressed. But never quite this broken.

“I’m so fucking tired. I’m so tired, please” he continued, repeating his mantra over and over again,

‘I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired’

You couldn’t imagine how much he must have to say, and neither of you knew quite where to start. But after all these years, he’d finally hit the breaking point.

You continued to slowly rock him back and forth, gently kissing his hair as the both of you sat under the scalding hot stream of the shower.

He tensed up for a moment in your grip, his demons seemingly coming back to remind him he isn’t worthy of help. A vague suggestion of ‘You shouldn’t have to do this’ was muttered under his breath, but this time when you pushed back, he let you. Your hold on him endured, soothingly rubbing small circles on his arm with your thumb until he settled once more.

“I’ve got you.” you reassured him once more, hoping to god that this time you got through. And as you felt his shoulders start to shake once more, you think you just might have.

“Why am I doing this?” Bo asked, voice raised to compete against the strong pelt of the shower. You stayed silent and let him continue.

“What’s the fucking point? I can’t even tell what I'm doing anymore. It’s all I can think about, all I can do is just work on it but I hate everything I come up with, it just makes me so fucking miserable. And sometimes I just wanna stop, for the night, and get into bed with you, and the girls, and just forget about everything for a few hours but I can’t switch my fucking brain off and I’m just stuck in this fucking endless feedback loop in my head and I’m just so tired” he cried, gasping in a loud breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, pulling him a little closer to you, “you don’t have to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Bo didn’t know how to say it, he didn’t know where he’d begin, but he was so thankful that you persevered, that you were still there with him, that you were right there holding him through this.

#bo burnham x reader #bo burnham oneshot #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x gender neutral reader #z’s writing

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Tiny Treasure Shorts: Bunny Tantrum ❤️☁️

Paining: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, hybrid!AU, hybrid!Reader, human!Jungkook

Tags/warnings: Kookers be ignoring his bunny, bits of angst, bunny has thoughts about him not wanting her anymore bless her heart, thumping, bunny behavior, kook be kinda dense ngl, god he’s frustrating, thoughts of abandonment, but nothing drastic lol

Summary: it’s one thing to have friends over. It’s another to ignore your little bunny when she’s right there. And it’s a huge thing to not even realize what you did wrong.

You like to think of yourself as not too clingy.

Of course, since he's your owner and you love him lots, you want to be close to him at all times if that was possible- but you also had a human brain, and common sense. Of course there were times you had to be alone. For example; whenever he's working, you always make sure to stay extra quiet. He needs to concentrate after all- so if you ever visit him in his makeshift office in his apartment, you tend to simply take a nap; the almost rhythmic typing sounds and gentle sighs here and there providing the perfect lullaby for you.

Jungkook likes to have you close during other times, however.

He has stated numerous times again and again that he would never think of you as clingy or that you were getting onto his nerves; more like the opposite. He enjoys having you follow him around the house, noticing how you watch him play video games, or have him talk to you about the most mundane of things. With Jungkook it never mattered if the conversation was deep and meaningful or not- simply exchanging some food for thought was enough.

And of course, he liked to keep you very close throughout the nights.

Now, at first, he had been a little worried. He's anything but a calm sleeper- he moves a lot and due to the size difference between the two of you, he was simply scared to roll you over at night. But eventually, the two of you had found a solution to it that satisfied you both equally. If he held you close during his sleep, he was less prone to shift and turn around as much. And at the same time, you got to cuddle him while sleeping. A win-win situation, really.

So why were you mad right now?

Well it was perfectly fine that he had his friends over. You understood that this was a rare occurance, and that you had only little to really input into the current game of CS:GO- hell, you barely learned the game mechanics yet. And it was fine that he only conversed with them, even after hours had passed.

What didn't sit right with you however was, when he had dismissed you when you had asked if you could go outside to get some snacks from the nearby grocery shop. It would've been okay if he had simply told you no. But that's not what he did; instead, he had waved you off like a bug flying too close to his face.

It felt demeaning, in a way. And it upset you.

And the worst was only to come. Because, naive as you were, you had at least thought that someone if not Jungkook himself would've heard you closing the bedroom door a little louder than usual.

But no one came. And you knew, in a way, the thoughts of him maybe really having gotten tired of your presence were nonsense; you knew for a fact that Jungkook loved you dearly. But that didn't help at all. Already, your brain had come up with scenes of you packing your bags, going back to Taehyungs place just to eventually occupy your old room at the shelter. It made your eyes sting- but you simple pulled your ears over them, as if to force yourself to shut them off.

Only after hours of you laying alone in the bedroom did Jungkook eventually join you in bed. As if nothing was off, he attempted to wrap his arms around you; but he got a reaction he never would've thought he'd get from you.

You pulled in your leg a little, just to kick out with a power that could only be described as anger. You were upset with him- visibly so. "Bunny?" He asked, genuinely confused by your behavior as he leaned over a little to catch a glimpse of your face. But you kicked out again, suddenly standing up before grabbing your blanket, and walking out towards the couch in the living room. It wouldn't provide a good nights rest- the couch way too drowned in too many scents by now, but it would do. You didn't want to be close to Jungkook right now, no matter the cost. "Bunny, no, whats wrong?" He asked, a slight whine to his voice as he squatted down close to your sitting form- your face turned away from him as your arms were crossed; entire body language showing him your stance of defense. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" He asks, and you huff. "Did I do something?" He dares to ask, and your foot hits the ground forcefully.

If you weren't so goddamn angry at him, he would've actually found the action cute.

"What did I do?" He asks, and again, your foot thumps the ground- tiny bunny tail wiggling in frustration as your ears are turned backwards. You're still not looking at him. "Bunny baby if you don't talk to me I can't-" He starts, but you don't let him finish.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk to you?" You ask bitterly, glossy eyes meeting his widely opened ones, and he genuinely hurts seeing the state you're in. You're clearly upset- and he really doesn't know what happened. "You didn't want my attention the entire day- so why now when everyone's gone? Am I like.. just a place-holder so you don't feel lonely?" You say, your voice breaking at the end because for some reason, saying it out loud actually makes you think about it more deeply. Because it seemed to actually make sense to you. Why else would he ignore you when his friends were over- but give his attention to you when you were alone with him? Were you just a toy for him?

"Baby no, no no no." He rambles out, and groans, as things suddenly click inside his brain. In hindsight he suddenly thinks about his actions more clearly- it makes sense that you're this distressed. After all, the way he had simply dismissed you like a fly unwanted had been uncalled for and absolutely stupid on his side. "I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to do that.." He states, a whine now clearly lacing his voice as you still huff only in frustration, a single kick to the floor showing that you were maybe calming down- but still not okay with his behavior. "Bunny baby.. don't be mad please.." He softly begs, kneeling in front of you so he can rest his hands on your knees- his chin on top of them to catch a glimpse of your face.

"Do you even want me here.?" You softly ask, almost scared of his honest answer. This time he doesn't reply right away- but stands up, to sit on the couch next to you. He pulls you close, uncaring that your leg kicks out, an annoyed whimper escaping you. He holds you tightly however, rubbing his nose over the skin from the side of your jaw down to your shoulder. The affectionate gesture soothes you immensly- and you hate your stupid instincts for doing that to you.

"I'll always want you." He says, voice nowhere near playful or whiny. He's honest, raw, and wants you to understand him. "You're my.. everything. What I did was uncalled for- and I'm truly sorry." He states. "I know it doesn't justify my actions, but this is all still super new to me too.. I'm not used to having someone around twenty-four-seven." He says. "And before you say anything, no, I WANT you close. I want you around all the time." He squeezes you a little tighter once he notices you relax in his arms. "I'm so grateful you're here. I'll better myself. Promise." He says, and you nod after a while, turning in his embrace.

"Koo?" You question tiredly, and he hums a reply. You close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder as you speak your next words. "I'm tired." You say.

He chuckles. "Let's go to bed then?" He questions, and you nod.

"Will you make me pancake for breakfast?" You ask, as he picks you up, blanket and all, to carry you back into the bedroom.

"Anything you want, Bunny." He says, laying you down onto the mattress before climbing in as well, arms around your form as he sighs. "Anything you want.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #hybrid reader

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tommysparker · 3 years

Text

Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks.

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving.

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that.

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst.

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed.

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it.

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.”

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.”

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.”

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made.

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka.

You left without sparing a glance back.

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward.

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.”

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.”

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.”

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently.

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.”

“Like what?”

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth.

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is.

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted.

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?”

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.”

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests.

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much.

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily.

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…”

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?”

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.”

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves.

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.”

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?”

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically.

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted.

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.”

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.”

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.”

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back.

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt.

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state.

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you.

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.”

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.”

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.”

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal.

Peace.

Like this moment.

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go.

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long.

“Hey! We’re here.”

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reblog and comment what will happen on the mission 👀👀

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otptings · 3 years

Text

You Deserve It

slightly Tsundere!Taeyong

-angst (argument) , smut ( head f receiving, face fucking, emotional sex, unprotected (please wrap it before you tap it)talking during sex)

angry/makeup sex loosely based off of this post,

“I fucking hate you.” I stared at Taeyong, eyes filled with tears. I can’t even remember how this argument started. Same argument, different day. I’ve never said I hate you before, but all of my emotions came boiling over and I need him to feel my pain. He’s just been so nonchalant about everything recently.

We weren’t always like this. The constant arguments, and crying. Screaming at each other for hours on end, until he walked out of the apartment. Stale mates for days until we made up or had another argument, and the cycle repeated. It was tiring and I was tired of not knowing the person who I went to bed with every night.

Our relationship started off so sweetly. He confessed to me during our 3rd date. I remember the sun was so bright in the sky, beaming down on us. We were at a beautiful restaurant sitting on their terrace enjoying the warm weather. Taeyong was nervous, he complimented about 10 times while handing me the beautiful bouquet. I remember my face burning constantly because he was so sweet. The way he held every door open for me, and pulled the chair out for me. We laughed for hours over our food, just enjoying each others company. How he stopped eating and started up a whole speech just to confess to me.

He wasn’t truly my type. At least that’s what I thought so. My past relationships spoke for themselves, all of them being rude, cocky assholes. However, the boy with the pink hair who couldn’t meet my eyes caught my heart.

I couldn’t help but accept his confession. He was so incredibly sweet, and extremely attractive I’d have been stupid to reject him. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word. Our relationship was perfect or so I thought.

I’d sneak into the music building to bring him coffee, we’d talk in the studio as he excitedly showed me his beats, and lyrics that he was working on. Sometimes I’d walk in on him and his friends as they were recording, and would hear how as soon as he stepped into the booth he exuded confidence. Every time I walked into the studio he would look up at me, his eyes bright and doey as he made eye contact with me. A smile blooming over his face, as he came to me and pulled me into his arms. Always placing a kiss on my right then left cheek in that order.

He’d come to the library if I forgot to answer his texts. He’d always bring me a fruit smoothie because he knew that I couldn’t have caffeine. Sometimes he’d bring the smoothie along with food, or a snack because he knows that I tend to forget my meals. He’d made some noise before he approached me because he knew that I was jumpy when I was focused. Sitting down beside me he’d wrap his around me. Telling me jokes causing me to cover my mouth to hold in my laugh. Once we even got kicked out of the library because Taeyong kept on telling me telling cheesy pickup lines, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I don’t know how our relationship became this way. I don’t know what I did to make him stop caring, or when he stopped caring. If I could’ve even stopped it from happening.

“Bedroom now.” I wanted to fight him. Tell him that I refused to listen to him if he didn’t care about our relationship. The other part of me, a different part of my brain knew that this was potentially the last time. The last time of me feeling his love, even if it isn’t truly his love.

Walking to the bedroom I took a glance behind me to see that Taeyong was staring at me. His eyes were full of fire, and I quickly opened the bedroom door and closed it behind me. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do besides this so I just sat on our bed.

Looking at the night stand I saw the picture of me and Taeyong from one of our last dates. Before we became like this at least. We were at the amusement park for my birthday trip. His arm is wrapped around my waist, and my arms are thrown around his neck. I have a big smile on my face as I look at the camera, and Taeyong was staring at me. Love shining in his eyes. I wiped the tears away and looked at the door right when Taeyong walked on.

Any sadness I felt was gone. The tension in the room became incredibly thick. Taeyong pulled his shirt over his head, before making his way over the bed. Grabbing my neck Taeyong pushed me back on the bed, placing my head below where our pillows were.

Without even talking Taeyong pulled my shorts and panties down in one go, tossing them across the room. Taeyong glared at me, a silent warning to not move, before releasing my neck and spreading my legs.

Taeyong got closer to my pussy, letting his breath ghost over it but didn't make any move. I whined and reached for his hair, but he smacked my hand away. “Don’t touch me.” Contradicting himself he instantly attached himself to my clit. Sucking on my clit causing me to let out a loud moan. I prayed that my neighbors weren’t home.

Taeyong lightly bit my clit causing me to hiss from the pain, before running his tongue over it. Taeyong’s tongue moved lower, yet never stopped moving or even slowed. Swirling in and around my hole I couldn’t even begin to contain any of my moans.

“Fuck Taeyong please.” I didn’t even know what I was begging for. I just felt overwhelmed not having him touch me for months, to suddenly him teasing me, constantly moving between my hole and my clit, giving them both equal attention. I didn’t know if it was because of how aroused I was or because of Taeyong’s spit (both) but I could feel myself dripping.

Without warning Taeyong inserted two of his fingers into my pussy as he sucked on my clit. I moaned as I reached for the pillows behind my head, desperate for something to hold on to. Out of reflex I felt my hips lift off of the bed, but Taeyong took his hand that was holding my thigh and pinned my hips down.

I felt the fire in my stomach start to grow intensely when Taeyong suddenly pulled away. His fingers never stopped moving, as he stared up at me. Anger and lust present in his eyes. Taeyong’s glare had me so overwhelmed that I came with a loud moan.

Taeyong never still didn’t stop moving his fingers, continuing his ministrations helping me ride out of my orgasm. As I finally started to come down, I could feel the overstimulation setting in when he finally pulled his fingers out. Tapping them against my lip I opened my mouth. Sucking off all of essence from his fingers, I swirled my tongue around them making eye contact with him. Tae whispered a fuck before pulling his fingers out.

Taeyong quickly took off his sweatpants, before changing our positions so he was laying down and I was in between his legs. Taeyong was pretty in this position. Looking down at me, hand gripping my hair as he held his tip to my lips. He was incredibly hard, his tip flushed red from the adrenaline of our argument still flowing through him.

“Open up. Time to put your pretty mouth to good use.” Opening my mouth I made my jaw relax and let him use my throat. His thrust started off slow, but soon he quickened his past. I breathed out through my noise, feeling the tears coming to my eyes. Drool came out of my mouth every time he thrusted him, and I could feel him hit in the back of my throat. I held my thumb in my fist tightly, trying to keep my gag reflex at bay.

Taeyong slowed his thrust and grabbed me by my throat again pulling me towards him. I straddled his lap when he grabbed my face and caressed it softly, looking in his eyes I saw that the anger had died down. For the first time in weeks he kissed me.

Our lips move in sync. I felt the tears streaming down my face, knowing that this was going to the last time. The last time we kissed, the last time we have sex, the last time I held him in my arms. Pulling away from the kiss Taeyong grabbed my face with both of his hands and wiped away my tears. “Baby I'm so sorry.”

Taeyong started peppering kisses over my face, I felt my heart swell with joy. It’s been so long since he’s treated me like this, as if he cared that it only made me cry harder. “I’ve been so stressed out with everything recently that I’ve been taking it out on you. I’m sorry I never meant to treat you like that, and I know it doesn’t make up for my behavior but I’m gonna try so hard. I’m gonna treat you the way that you deserve, I love you so much.” Taeyong kissed me on my lips again. I felt butterflies in my stomach, even after 3 years, and this near breakup he still makes me feel the same way.

“I love you, I'm so sorry I don't hate you. I just wanted to make you feel my pain.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, I'm so sorry. Can I show you that I'm sorry?” Nodding my head Taeyong held me up by my hip, and held his dick so that I could lower myself down on him.

After not having him for months, the stretch was almost too much. After I got halfway down I laid my head on his shoulder. “You’re doing so good baby.” Taeyong suddenly thrust up causing me to wrap my arms around his shoulders and dig my nails in his back. I whispered a quiet fuck as he apologized before thrusting up in me again. This time the pain lessened and I could only feel pleasure. Holding onto his shoulders I slowly started riding him. Swirling my hips occasionally to get friction on my clit.

Taeyong’s grip on my hips tightened and we made eye contact as I rode him. My breathy moans with his low groans filled the room along with the sound of skin on skin. I clenched around him causing him to let out a loud fuck, and I did it again to tease him.

Taeyong flipped out positions making sure that my head was resting against the pillows before he slid back in. My legs over his biceps as he held onto my wrist and thrust into me slowly. From this position he was hitting deeper then he was while I was riding him. I could feel his cock dragging against my walls better and I felt my head slowly start to get floaty. The only thing on my mind as he quickened his thrusts was him.

“Fuck baby you feel so good. It’s been so long.” I nodded my head,

“Too long I missed you.” Taeyong moved his grip to my thighs pushing them further down so that I was almost bent in half. His thrusts slowed down again, but he made sure that every thrust was powerful and hit deeper than the last. I felt him rub against my sweet spot with every thrust. Him pulling out until only the tip was inside before he thrusting so deeply that I could almost feel him hit my cervix.

“I’m so sorry, I love you.” Leaning down to me, Taeyong met my lips again and started to jack rabbit into me. Every time he hit deeper, and his hips meant mine as he thrust. I could feel the fire in my stomach growing at a quicker rate. Along with his steady pace I knew that I was going to cum soon. Grabbing his hand I intertwined our fingers, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter.

“Fuck I'm gonna cum,” I felt tears coming out of my eyes, the feeling of him consistently hitting my spot along with my previous orgasm had my eyes closing him from the please.

“Cum for me baby.” His free hand reached down to rub my clit, and I felt my orgasm hit me full force. My eyes closed as I came with Taeyong's name on my lip. Taeyong continued to thrust helping me ride out my orgasm, before I felt his thrust stutter, and felt him coming inside of me. I felt his warm come fill me up as I felt my self go in and out of consciousness.

I flinched awake when I felt a warm rag rub over my face, and pussy (in that exact order). Opening my eyes I saw Taeyong look apologetic as he cleaned me up, and threw the rag on the floor before climbing into bed beside me. Pulling the covers over the both of us Taeyong pulled me into his arms so my head was resting on his chest, and our legs were intertwined. I listened to the beat of his heart as I lulled off to sleep. The last thing I heard was Tae promising me.

“I promise I'm going to give you the world. You deserve it.”

#Taeyong smut #Taeyong #taeyong dom #nct #nct 127 #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct 127 taeyong #nct 127 smut #nct one shot #nct 127 oneshots #Kpop smut #Kpop angst #nct 127 angst #nct angst

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

taking back what’s been taken for granted

a short fic based on @littlx-songbxrd’s asks on @anarmorofwords’ blog

cw: mentions of period-typical homophobia and racism, bullying, and alcoholism

"So... You're... You prefer men?" Matthew asked slowly.

Alastair blinked. "Yes, that was what I was referring to."

He scoffed. "Oh, right, next you're going to tell me you have a deep appreciation of the fine arts and like to visit art galleries in your spare time," he said sarcastically.

Alastair's eyes were defensive for a moment before resigning. "Don't be silly. I've also been known to enjoy a quaint film or two."

He hesitantly gave a glance around the room. Matthew appeared mutinous, Thomas a bit concerned about potential escalation of the interaction, and James simply confused, while Cordelia bit back a grin and Christopher seemed slightly amused.

“I don’t understand. You’ve only ever been critical of me,” Matthew protested.

“Critical of you, not your romantic or sexual preferences.”

“What about all of those times you made some sly remark about ‘the company I keep,’ then?” he countered.

“Yes, he’s said similar things about Anna,” Christopher offered.

Alastair seemed almost confused for a moment. “You thought- Yes, the company you keep in all sorts of bars and clubs and whatever other dark alleyways you prefer to spend your nights in. Obviously, my sister has always been free to make her own decisions on where to go and with whom, but surely you could understand my concern.” Looking at the lot of them now, it was clear to Alastair that none of them had ever considered before that he would have concerns about Cordelia’s safety in such places because of his history with their father.

“Fine,” Matthew said begrudgingly. “But what about all of those things you said back at school? About Oscar Wilde and plays and the arts? Did you suddenly change your mind about such things?”

Alastair could feel himself growing annoyed. And, if he was being honest, he could still feel his heart beating slightly faster in the echo of what he’d just admitted. Revealing his romantic interests was one thing, but he still did not feel comfortable speaking about his father so freely, even in implications, even with the knowledge that everyone already knew. “I’ve always appreciated the arts, Matthew. I simply pretended I did not in order to fit in.”

Matthew was flustered for a moment before finally saying, “Well, that’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

Alastair straightened his posture. “Excuse me?”

“I simply find it amusing that you would so easily conform to the interests of others. Why, to avoid a bit of bullying? Like what you did to us?” Alastair could feel himself flinch, but Matthew continued. “It’s a shame you were so spineless, perhaps in another life we could have been friends.”

“You think that you’re better than me? Because you run around with your green carnation swooning over Oscar Wilde and I don’t?”

“Apologies, I should have realized someone like you would need it more spelled out. That is exactly what I was implying.”

“My bad, I knew you were oblivious, but I should have realized you had such a complete lack of self-awareness. You do realize not all of us are the Consul’s son, correct?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “What? You think that protects me? You think I don’t know the way folks look at me and whisper? The cruel things they’re prone to saying about people like me - people like us?”

Alastair gaped at him for a moment. “It does protect you, Matthew. Do you truly think any of us would have gotten away with a fraction of the things you did at school? When I first arrived at the Academy, they didn’t just call me silly names and spread rumors about my family. I am deeply sorry for the things I’ve said and done and the ways that I’ve hurt you, all of you, but I will not apologize for conforming in order to protect myself. You are not better or stronger than me because no one ever beat the daylights out of you for having eccentric interests and opinions.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

The whole of the group seemed to be in some state of confusion or shock, though he knew Thomas must only be surprised that he was admitting all of this now. “What? Do you not think being the Persian boy with a drunk for a father was enough to make me a target?”

“I never heard anyone say anything about you, or towards you-”

“I made sure that they didn’t. I’m sorry that you were hurt in the process. There are things I’ve done that I will never forgive myself for, nor are any of you obligated to forgive me, either. But I’m tired of standing by while you all act like you’re better than me when not one of you has ever stood in my shoes. I didn’t have a safe home to go back to. My father never ran to my side any of the times I wound up in the infirmary. I did what I thought I needed to in order to survive.”

A long, unsettling silence fell around them. He could see them trying to process what he’d told them, trying to understand what it meant to be that young, 13, 14, no one to defend you. Nowhere to go for help. They’d never truly understand, though, and they were better off for it. “Does that make sense, Matthew?” Alastair asked finally.

“I… I suppose it does.”

Alastair sighed. The group would continue to stare at each other in silence if he let them. “Well, anyways, as I was saying, I like men.” To his relief, the others did seem to relax a bit. “Actually, as Thomas and I were both trying to say-”

“We’re seeing each other!” Thomas said confidently. He was flushed, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of their relationship or the tears that he saw in his eyes a few moments earlier. “Any protests should be directed to me.”

As bizarre as the entire ordeal was, the rest of them eagerly accepted the change in subject. He knew there would be questions later, in private, asking if he was alright and why he kept so much hidden, but he was grateful for the shift in attention, too. There were no protests to their relationship, either, much to his relief, though he was sure it had more to do with his confessions than a genuine belief that he would be a good partner to Thomas. Oddly enough, he was okay with that. If they needed proof, he would show them. After all, out of all the things he’d done searching for his place in the world, he was fairly certain that there was nothing that came more naturally to him than loving Thomas.

i hope this starts to make up for my recent angst lol taglist (lmk to be added/removed or if you only want to be tagged in certain fics): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #tlh #the last hours #fanfiction #fanfic

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male drider x reader - Part Four (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I think the previous parts have had a female reader, but I left it ambiguous/gender neutral in this one, even in the nsfw bits, mostly out of habit.

It's 8000 words, with a bit of angst, a good dose of fluff, some recognition of unhealthy attitudes, and a slightly messy nsfw scene at the end...

Hope you enjoy!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Gilvas waited until you’d closed the matching panel at the other end of the secret passage, and then turned away.

While you worked on the catalogue, you couldn’t shake the vulnerable look on his face as he’d told you about his late wife and as you’d stared at her vivacious features in the portrait. In the nine years since her death, he’d become a shadow, haunting this creepy old mansion and drifting from one day to the next, and it broke your heart. Gilvas was clearly a gentle soul, though his fuse was short at times, but you had begun to suspect that it was more of a defence mechanism than a character trait.

As evening billowed around the stone walls of the enormous house at the end of the day, with an awful lot still swirling around your mind, you nearly walked straight into Naril who was loading his last pile of autumn leaves into a wheelbarrow by the back door. He called your name just in time and you sidestepped with a bashful grin.

“So is it true?” he asked almost immediately.

“Is what true?”

His ears waggled and he laughed as he dumped the leaves into the barrow with a little flourish. “You and the master…?”

“Me and the master what?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “You make it sound like we’re school kids caught snogging behind the bike sheds! He showed me the portrait of his wife and told me a bit about her, that’s all.”

Naril shook his head expressively. “We’ve had people here on the estate before, you know? None of them ended up strolling the corridors with him.”

“How’d you know about it anyway?” you asked instead, resisting the urge to flick him in fond reprimand on his large ear.

“Chiara came in and started talking to my dad about it. I couldn’t believe it, and neither could they. The master doesn’t ‘chat’ with anyone…”

You shrugged. “Well, if he’s happy talking to me, I’m happy enough to listen. He seems nice, once you get past the way he likes to bark at you.”

Two days later, while you were stooped over the working version of the catalogue, scribbling something down in the margins of your cataloguing notes, the shadows moved in the recesses of the library, and Gilvas emerged. You looked up and smiled. “Hi,” you offered.

He nodded curtly at you and began to pace.

Setting your pencil down a minute or two later, you asked, “Everything… alright?”

Gilvas turned, apparently on the point of snapping something acerbic and defensive at you, but he caught himself in time and paused, throat working. The dark red birthmark on his neck moved and shifted like ink in water. If asked, you’d have said he was nervous. “I… I was wondering if you would take tea with me on the terrace today.”

You froze. Of all the things you’d been expecting from him, that had not been it. “Uh…” you began artlessly.

“Or not. You don’t have to,” he blurted, turning away. “Stupid idea anyway.”

“Wait,” you laughed, relief washing through you. “Wait. I’d love to. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

If you’d been surprised, it was nothing to the expression on Chiara’s face when he summoned her to the library with a little bell pull that you’d not spotted before.

“You… You want to take tea… You want to take tea outside…?” the harpy repeated, looking unsteady on her clawed feet.

As if he’d just realised how unusual it was, his expression went blank, his four ruby eyes going dull, and he seemed to deflate. Gone was the intimidating, sharp-edged lord of the manor, and in his place you saw a vulnerable, shattered widower, with no one to talk to and rusty social skills.

Reading her master well enough, Chiara schooled her features into something resembling their usual sternness, and she nodded. “Of course. I will have it set up for you and…” she looked at you with her golden eyes and you tried not to shrink away. “For the both of you.”

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, departing.

“I think I gave her quite the shock,” he muttered, half smirking.

With a snort, you said, “We’re just going to have to find more ways to surprise them.”

“Them?”

“Your staff,” you said. “It’s clear that they all respect you, and they enjoy working here - well, obviously I can’t speak for all of them, but I have supper with Mr. Ambleside and his son almost every night. I don’t get the impression that they’d object to seeing a bit more of their mysterious master from time to time.”

“It’s been so long,” he croaked. “I… I’ve hidden myself away up here. I… I don’t remember — I mean…” he broke off and you noticed how glassy his eyes were.

Cautiously, you approached him and laid your hand on his foremost right leg. It was smooth like glass, and cold. It felt extremely brittle, though you knew the chitin was pretty tough. Your eyes nearly drifted to the empty stump on his right side though, and you suppressed a shiver. It wasn’t that tough. He shuddered and you nearly retracted your touch. “Sounds like you could use a friend to take tea with every now and again…” you said gently.

“I’d like that,” he said. “If… If you could bear it.”

“Bear it?” you repeated. “Please. I wouldn’t have accepted if it wasn’t something I didn’t already want to do.”

Gilvas fixed you with a piercing red gaze, making the blood-dark streak of his hair and the swirling birthmark stand out in vivid detail. “No,” he mused slowly, his legs and spider body relaxing a little into your touch like a great machine coming to rest. “I don’t suppose you would.”

Tea on the terrace became a daily fixture, weather permitting, and on the first day it was rained off, he asked you into a small drawing room on the ground floor that you’d never been in before.

Four and a half months into your stay, he leaned over the table and poured you another cup with shaking hands. He always shook, you realised, though the tremors worsened when he grew agitated or emotional. If Naril was right, he was about ten years older than you, and while at times he seemed youthful and almost playful when you got him talking about one of his interests - mathematics was a particular favourite of his - there were times when he seemed stiff and tired, and much, much older than you; and older than he truly was. He carried the weight of his grief around with him everywhere, dragging at him like chains, rattling in the quiet corridors of his mind and reminding him of his heartache. He never went too long with a smile on his face, the expression often shattering or sliding off his face to leave a brittle mask behind.

“Gilvas?” you asked as he set the teapot down on the tray with a rattle. “Everything alright?”

“You’re too perceptive by half,” he grumbled. “I wanted to ask you to dine with me tonight.”

“Oh,” you breathed, taken off-guard.

“You sound disappointed,” he said a slight huff to his tone.

Conflicted, you said, “It’s Naril’s birthday. He’s celebrating with the rest of the staff and some of his friends tonight, and he asked me to join him…”

“Then you must go, obviously,” he said. After a pause he added, “Naril is the one who tends to the gardens, is he not?”

“Mmm. He’s a firbolg.”

“My father always hired firbolgs for their way with nature. I’d forgotten that Ambleside has a child. How old is he?”

“About my age, I suppose?”

Whether or not he was aware of it, Gilvas’ face shuttered at that. With a sigh, he shifted his already vague gaze to the huge patio windows beside you and stared out at the gardens beyond. It had been raining earlier, but it had cleared up now to leave broad puddles flashing in the sunlight on the terrace. “I think I will go for a walk through the gardens this evening before sunset…”

“You want some company?” you asked, but he shook his head.

“No. Thank you.”

Naril’s party was just rowdy enough to be fun without straying too far into unruliness, and you stayed up late in the kitchens, laughing and joking with him and his father, who, it turned out, had quite the sense of humour with a few glasses of wine in him. Eloise, the maid, also joined you, and a few friends of Naril’s who lived in Starfall Springs. The laughter continued long into the night, until his friends from town announced that it was time to head back just shy of one in the morning.

Waving them off at the end of the night, still buzzing with the unusually vibrant evening, you and Naril turned from the upper gates and walked back to the house. In the dark, the firbolg could see much better than you, so he let you loop your arm amicably through his to stop yourself stumbling on the uneven driveway.

Just as you stepped back into the kitchen, he cracked a good-natured joke at your expense, recalling a moment from earlier in the evening, and you nearly fell about laughing. “Oh my gods,” you wheezed as you clung to his arm to stop yourself tripping up the step. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the plosive consonant with a chuckle. “You’re far too easy to tease. I —” he cut off suddenly, expression falling. His eyes were wide and he was staring at a point on the far side of the kitchen.

You looked up and found the hulking shape of a drider standing silhouetted in the dark doorway. “Forgive me,” Gilvas said stiffly, jaw working. “I came for a brandy. I thought you’d all turned in for the night.”

You blurted, “Gilvas?” at the same time as Naril whispered, “My lord?”

“Forget it,” he said, turning abruptly in the wide doorway. “I hope you enjoyed your evening together.”

Even after the door slammed behind him - the gesture leaving a sour taste in your mouth - neither you nor Naril spoke.

Finally it was Naril who broke the silence. “I’ve never seen him before…” he murmured, awestruck at the encounter. “He looks dreadful. Perhaps he is sick after all?”

“He doesn’t look as dreadful as he looked three months ago,” Chiara’s unexpected voice said tartly from the pantry to your left where she’d apparently been occupied, stowing away the remnants of the uneaten food.

You swallowed. “Well… I… uh… I guess I’d better head back. Thanks for tonight,” you said, hugging Naril briefly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t have anything to give you… It’s not as if I can go into town or anything from here…”

“Couldn’t you ask your friend to pick you up,” he said. “You know, the one you phone every Friday?”

Despite having phoned Damien every week since arriving, you’d never even thought of asking him to drive all the way out here and pick you up for the weekend. He’d probably do it though if you asked. “I guess I could…”

The idea took root in your mind, and as you took your break the next day, you used the house’s landline to call Damien’s shop since he’d be at work too.

“Hey!” he chuckled. “You don’t normally phone today. How’s things at the Spookville Court?”

“Don't call it that,” you scoffed. “It’s fine. Listen, I haven’t got long, but I was wondering if maybe you’d be free this weekend…? I know it’s not exactly a short drive, but I’d kind of like to get out of here for the weekend…”

There was a pause while he checked his calendar. “Sure,” he said. “I can pick you up on Friday night if you like?”

“You don't have plans?”

“I was gonna grab a beer with Sarrigan since he’s in town,” he admitted, “But maybe if you can get away early, we could go together?”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t…” you said. No one was monitoring your hours after all, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t made huge inroads into the project already.

You grinned and practically flung yourself at him when Damien’s truck drew up outside your cottage on the far side of the courtyard. The wide expanse of gravel sat on the side of the house with the servants’ entrance, and was overlooked by the back of the mansion.

“I missed you!” you laughed, letting the colossal orc spin you easily in a circle. “You still smell like chocolate,” you said as his immensely long, black plait caught you in the face.

“Just proves I’m sweet,” he joked, and you groaned, smacking him in the chest with the back of your hand as he set you down.

“That was a bad pun, even for you.”

“You ready?” he asked.

“You don’t want to stretch your legs first? You’ve literally just got here.” He shook his head, but did nip inside your apartment for a drink of water and a bathroom break. While he was gone, you leaned against his truck and looked up at the trees above you. The height of summer was fading to the bronze of autumn now, and a few coppery leaves rained down around you like confetti, spiralling through the air that promised a change of season soon.

“Ready?” he asked, swinging your overnight bag easily into the truck and helping you up the enormous step into the cab.

As you drove away, you glanced up at the house and caught the glint of sun on a window as it closed on one of the upper storeys, but you soon forgot about the house as Damien began to regale you with stories of your friends’ antics.

With Widowsweb Court in the rear view mirror, you sighed and settled into the comfy seat, letting Damien talk as the house dwindled to nothing behind you. It felt good to be away from the limited confines of the estate, but as you looked forward to a weekend in Starfall Springs with your friends, something nagged at the back of your mind, like a caught thread pulling in the sleeve of a favourite sweater…

Your whole weekend in Starfall Springs was like the first breath of fresh garden air after a day spent in the dusty library of Widowsweb Court.

Damien had taken you to the Inglenook Inn that first night, where he, Sarrigan, their respective partners, plus a mothman named Merritt whom you’d met a few times before, and a couple of your other friends were gathered, and the lot of you talked late into the night. There were a lot of questions about Widowsweb Court, but you mostly focused on the work and describing the house and gardens to them. Somehow it felt disrespectful - an invasion of his privacy - to talk about Gilvas much.

As you left the pub to walk back to your modest apartment at the north end of the town, Sarrigan caught up with you. As he scuttled up to you, you were struck suddenly by the difference between him and Gilvas. Sarrigan Silkfoot’s silver-banded fur rippled in the moonlight, ruffled by the night breezes, where Gilvas’ spider body was black, hard, and shiny as black lacquer, and where Gilvas’ legs moved like articulated, curved daggers, Sarrigan’s were chunky and muscular and unbelievably fuzzy, ending in a little hooked and almost dainty talon. Gilvas’ legs ended in wicked points, sharp and slender as paring knives, and his fangs probably carried a deadly venom, where Sarrigan’s smile held only jollity. Gilvas also had no mandibles, where Sarrigan’s hardware clicked and chittered with his emotions.

“Listen,” he said as he fell into a near-silent step beside you. “I know you’ve not got any reception up there at Widowsweb, so I haven’t been able to get in touch by text or whatever, but I just wanted to ask you - away from the others - how it’s going. With my family’s history with theirs, I did some digging into the Widowsweb estate and the family…”

“You did?” You weren’t sure whether to be offended or curious, but in the end, the latter won out. “What did you find?”

“Just tragedy. Lately anyway. Earlier generations seem to have done ok, but… you should look him up.”

“Who, Gilvas?”

He nodded.

“You mean the fire?”

Again, he nodded, shuffling nervously. “The police think he started it, but they could never prove it.”

You scowled, horrified and hurt. “Sarrigan, I’ve met him. He doesn't seem like the type to murder his family - and his unhatched children too?” You shook your head, appalled, stomach roiling. “He’s devastated… rarely talks about them, and when he does… he’s close to tears. I think he lost a leg in the fire too.”

Sarrigan’s handsome face remained harsh and he clicked his mandibles pensively. Finally, he sighed. “Just… be careful, ok? The articles I found all said he had a nasty temper, and that since his wife’s death, he fired all the staff and turned into some kind of recluse…”

“They’ve got the last bit right,” you said, “But not the first.” He did have a short fuse though. “Thanks for looking out for me, Sarrigan, but I’m not worried.”

He nodded once. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

You shook your head and parted from him with a warm hug. “I appreciate it, but trust me… Gilvas isn’t some cruel, violent lunatic. He’s an isolated widower who’s never learned how to move past his grief.”

To your relief, Sarrigan seemed to take you at your word, and left you at your door looking happier for having aired his anxieties, and in turn having had them laid to rest.

The remainder of your weekend passed without incident, but you couldn’t get Sarrigan’s words out of your head. If he’d been painted by the press at the time as some kind of violent monster, it was no wonder that Gilvas had hidden himself away on his estate and never spoke to anyone.

On the Sunday of your weekend away, you met up with a few friends at Damien’s cafe for breakfast, and spent the better part of the day while the sun was out browsing the marketplace. As you passed a carpenter’s stall, your eye was drawn by a number of carved, wooden puzzle boxes. The satyr who had made them was demonstrating how one of them worked to a small crowed of fascinated onlookers, and when he finished, finally sliding the last section of wood free, the lid sprang open to reveal the empty chamber inside, and everyone applauded.

Fascinated, you realised what a tactile thing the boxes were, and suddenly thought of Gilvas. With his reduced sight, he relied a lot on his sense of touch. On a whim, you bought one and had it wrapped neatly in brown paper by the satyr. Thanking him, you headed home and packed up, bringing with you a few new clothes and a few more things to occupy your evenings.

Bouncing back up the driveway in Damien’s truck that evening, you couldn’t miss the looks the orc tossed you sidelong, and as you drew to a halt in the courtyard again, he stayed put in his seat and asked, “Are you really alright here? It’s so remote…”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I love the work, and the people are kind. I promise I’ll ring you the moment I’m unhappy, but for now, I’m honestly loving it. I’ve never had a better or more fulfilling job, Damien. I can’t believe I’ve got so little time left really…” You paused and sighed. “I almost don’t want to leave.”

He bowed his head and backed off, though not without pulling you half into his lap for a bone-crushing hug first. “Take care, OK?” he grunted before releasing you.

“You sure you won’t stay for some supper?” you asked as you slithered out of your side of the cab and landed on the gravel. “I bet you’d love Naril.”

“I can’t,” he said with a regretful grimace. “I need to get back to prep the shop for next week. Another time?”

You nodded. “Drive safely.”

For the entire week following your return to Widowsweb Court, you didn’t see even the slightest glimpse of Gilvas.

There was no trace of his having been in the library at all, and the secret panel at the rear of the room stayed firmly shut. You didn’t think it was your place to go wandering the corridors again, and although you continued to take a mug of tea out onto the terrace every afternoon, it was hardly the spread of High Tea that you had shared with him every day for months. The whole place seemed empty without his presence now, reminding you of your very first week there, when every shadow and doorway had loomed ominously large before you.

Finally, at the end of the week, you ran in to Chiara on your way back down and you paused to let her past with an armful of linen. “Chiara, is… is Gilvas around? Is he alright?”

She narrowed her eyes and tutted softly at you. “None of your concern,” she snipped at you before bustling off.

You stood there, mute and surprised.

It definitely didn’t sound like he was alright, but what were you to him, really? You thought of the box stowed away in your room, waiting for the right time to be brought out and given to him, and suddenly felt foolish. You’d known him for a matter of months. He was a lord, with land and a title; he had a whole household full of things already, and you were just there to reorganise his library. He’d probably already forgotten about you.

You worked solidly through the morning again the next day, but didn’t feel hungry enough to go down to lunch. You continued on through the day, pausing only to sip from your water bottle before heading back up the ladders time and time again with armfuls of books. It was exhausting. There was no trace of the webbing he’d used to catch you, and since there was also no sign of him, you made sure to take extra care going up and down.

With a sigh you finally set down the last of the hagiographies at eight o’clock that night, and put your hands to the small of your back, grunting. Dusty, tired, stiff, and still oddly demoralised, you thought you heard the creak of a door from the back of the library, but you’d barely dared to hope before the main doors opened and Naril stumped in, looking terribly out of place and awkward in his gardening overalls. He had mud on his trousers, but his boots had been scraped clean.

He sighed your name in obvious relief when he spotted you. “You ok?” he asked.

“Fine, why?” you frowned as you turned to face him, still with your palms pressed to the small of your back.

“You didn’t come to lunch, and you missed supper as well. I was worried about you.”

You smiled and dropped your hands to your sides. “I’m fine. I just… haven’t felt like myself lately. Thank you though.”

An awkward silence hung between you, and he scratched the back of his head. “Right. Well, there’s… uh… stuff in the larder and fridge if… if you get hungry. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been crushed by a ton of books or something.”

With a chuckle, you said, “This isn’t The Mummy you know? People do actually secure their bookshelves…”

He laughed briefly and headed for the doors again. “Seriously though… Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked, ears waggling.

“I’ve… I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Ok,” he said, green eyes wide and glassy. “Well, you can always talk to me. What are friends for, right?”

“Right. Thank you, Naril.”

He nodded, and left.

In the silent stillness of the library, you sank with a heavy sigh into one of the nearby chairs and let your palm cradle your chin, with your elbow planted on the wood of the table. When had this place started to feel so sad again? It was as if the gloom was seeping back into the fabric of the place like a sponge soaking up ink.

About a minute later, a familiar movement caught your attention and you looked up to find Gilvas standing beside a bookshelf. He was tilting his head in that way that meant he couldn’t see you in the dim light, but he knew you were still there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, hardly daring to move in case he scuttled away.

Locking onto your voice, he moved with expert familiarity round the library and came to a halt near your table. The only light now came from a lamp one shelf over. “I… I overheard…” he began stiffly. His red gaze sailed right over your head, so it was clear that he couldn’t see you, even this close up. “Is… I mean… Are you alright?”

“Could ask the same of you,” you said wryly, eyeing the dark shadows under his eyes and the tightness around his mouth. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” He looked dreadful again, as if he’d hardly eaten anything in the interim.

“Been better, I suppose,” he said. “The firbolg said you haven’t eaten today… is that right?”

“Mmm.”

“Should we raid the kitchen together?”

You smiled. “You haven’t eaten either I take it…”

He shook his head.

Standing, you swayed as a head rush washed over you and you let out a tiny grunt of surprise, grabbing the back of the chair.

With a scowl, he stepped closer. “Alright?” He steadied you, his hand finding your waist and lingering there.

“I missed you,” you breathed unthinkingly as you stared up at him.

Gilvas froze and then let out a rough exhale, withdrawing a few paces. “You did?”

“Mmm. I have something for you too, from Starfall, but it’s back in my room. I… I’d started to think I wasn’t going to see you again…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers curling briefly into fists at his side. “I… I rather let the melancholy take over again.”

“Why?” you asked, stepping closer to him. His ear followed you and he narrowed his eyes. You got the impression that you’d just stepped into his limited field of vision and he could now make out your silhouette in the shadowy library.

The lord of Widowsweb Court gave a bitter, brittle laugh and turned away, legs moving in sequence like a windup toy. “I think I misled myself,” he said eventually.

Your brows knitted and you closed the distance between you, laying your hand boldly on his cool, obsidian foreleg again. As before, he shivered, but he didn't pull away. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose I got carried away - this past month in particular,” he said in his rough baritone.

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, that cut-glass edge returning to his voice. “You don’t know what it was like before you came here; before you —” he stopped himself but then took a breath and continued in barely a whisper, the consonants softly articulated. You had to lean in closer to hear him. “Before you brought the light back to this place.” His voice cracked as he added, “And you took it with you.”

“Gilvas…” you gasped, shocked by his tone.

“I know,” he growled. “It’s inappropriate of me, and melodramatic. You were only gone for two days. But it’s the truth. I got so swept up in spending time with someone again — in… in enjoying myself — that I somehow forgot that you have a whole life outside of our brief interactions here, beyond these walls…”

“Naril's birthday…” you breathed and he nodded. He’d stumbled upon you and Naril sharing a laugh and a close touch at his birthday and had assumed from the physical closeness that there was something more than friendship between you. That had been the last time you’d seen him.

Then he shook his head in disgust and sneered self-deprecatingly, “It’s as though I became a teenager again - spoilt and sour and… everything I loathe about myself.”

He backed away out of your grip until his huge carapace nudged against the shelf behind him and he went still again. Trapped between you and the books, he breathed heavily for a moment through his aquiline nose. Your heart was beating in your throat but you kept quiet.

“I have a nasty, possessive side,” he said, scowling. “I’d almost forgotten about it, but as — I hesitate to call it a friendship… I’m not sure what we had between us — but whatever it was grew, I came to think of you as… mine. And then I saw you laughing with him and… I remembered that you’re not mine at all. I have no right to make those kinds of disgusting demands or claims. You’re not mine — you’re not anyone’s but your own person. I forgot myself, and I hated myself for it.”

He was jealous.

Gilvas was jealous that you’d been laughing with Naril that night. Despite the anguish on his face, you had to smile. When he heard you chuckle softly, he growled at you again, deep and rich and animalistic. Defensive. That was all it was; defensive bluster.

“It’s true that Naril has come to be my friend here,” you said, moving carefully closer to him now that he couldn’t back away any more. “But I thought about you all weekend while I was away. I couldn’t get you out of my head. When my friend Sarrigan —”

“— Silkfoot?” he interrupted with a sneer. “‘Sarrigan’ is an old Silkfoot name…”

“Yes. Sarrigan Silkfoot is a friend of mine,” you said carefully, noting the lingering displeasure in his features. “He’s currently dating a human, and my best friend, Damien, is also very much in love with a human. If you’re worried about what previous generations of Silkfoots thought about relationships between species, you needn’t worry. The current heir to the family - Sarrigan’s older brother - has even recently married a human. Things have moved on since the founding of Widowsweb…”

His chest heaved and he sank lower so that his pendulous spider’s body was only a few inches above the ground, and his torso and head were almost on a level with yours. “I’ve hidden myself away too long,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

Taking a final step over to him, you stood in the space between his deadly front legs. It felt suddenly intimate in the extreme, and you reached your palm out and laid it on his chest. He flinched, but let you talk.

“Sarrigan told me a bit more about the papers said… about the circumstances of the fire… about what people believed at the time…” you said carefully, and Gilvas’ face darkened dangerously. “But I got to know you before I’d heard that, and I can’t believe you would have started it. I can’t believe anyone thought that of you.” You placed your left palm to mirror your right and felt the way his chest heaved with emotion as he listened. “You’re a good person, Gilvas. I told my friends that, and they believed me. And I think you’ve suffered alone for long enough.”

Gilvas’ expression shattered and he leaned forwards and drew you into his arms. “I don't want you to leave…” he whispered into your hair as he held you close. He smelled like books and sandalwood, warm and comforting, and you let your arms snake around his waist.

“I don't have anything else lined up for after I finish here,” you said without letting go. He was gently inhaling the scent of you, you realised, and you let him hold you, drawing comfort from the warmth of your body. “And I told you there’s a lifetime’s worth of work to do on this library…”

“I could renew your contract,” he said. “Or… Or you could… No. I don't want you to feel… obliged…” he said, swallowing thickly and drawing sharply back from your embrace as if you’d burned him. “If I’m paying you —” his face buckled into a sour grimace and he lurched slightly further away from you. “I don’t want to pay you to stay here…” he spat as if the idea thoroughly disgusted him.

You laughed. “I own my apartment in Starfall. I could rent it out for some income, and come and live here with you. That way… there’s no imbalance…”

“Yes,” he nodded breathlessly, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. “Yes, that’s… that’s good. And if you still have your apartment, you can… I mean… there will be somewhere for you… if… if you decide…”

“Stop,” you said. “Don’t push me away again.”

The drider took a huge inhale and nodded. Then he licked his lips nervously and said, “You know, we were going to raid the kitchen before we went down this path. You shouldn’t make any rash decisions on an empty stomach.”

“An excellent point,” you said with mock seriousness. “Let’s go.”

Over a rather strange and cobbled-together supper of leftovers scrounged from the pantry, eaten at the scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen, Gilvas stayed almost completely silent. At first, you thought he was just concentrating on eating, being particularly careful about his movements since he didn’t see as clearly as you did, but after a while, you discovered the crinkle in his brow and noticed the tremor in his fingers again.

“Wait here,” you said, pushing back from the table and touching the back of his hand briefly. He was always so cold.

“Where are you going?” he barked, tense.

With a giggle, you said, “Trust me. I’ll be right back.”

And with that, you vanished out of the back door and scuttled over the gravel to the little apartment above the old stable block where you’d been staying for the past few months. Minutes later, you returned to find him exactly where you’d left him, scowling at his food.

He looked up sharply as you reentered, and you watched his shoulders drop with relief a split second later when he figured out that it was you.

“Here,” you said, holding out the brown paper parcel to him, touching it to the back of his fingers in case he couldn’t see it.

In moments, it was obvious to you that he couldn’t, because his fingertips trailed along the edges, looking for a way into the parcel. “What is it?” he asked warily, shifting his head from side to side.

“You’ll find out. I saw them being made in the marketplace, and I think with your sense of touch you’ll probably have an advantage over someone with sharper vision…”

At that, his frown deepened, though not from discomfort. He was openly curious now, and he got to work on the wrappings, abandoning them to one side. “A box?” he murmured when he’d run his fingers all the way around it. Watching him, you suddenly felt a thrum of desire go right through you. You wanted him to do that to your body, to explore you by touch, and you barely bit back a moan as the force of it swept through you.

He paused and turned his face towards you expectantly.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “It’s a puzzle box. It’s all inlaid with different types of wood, and there are a few panels and sections that you have to slide in the right order to open it.”

At that, his face cracked into a gorgeous, open, delighted grin and your heart slipped sideways in your chest at the youthfulness it lent to his features. “I used to love these as a child,” he said. “Thank you.”

He moved then, obviously not having been sitting on a chair like you, and found his way faultlessly around the kitchen to where you were seated opposite him. The little inlaid box lay to one side on the table while he took your hands in his and squeezed your knuckles fondly, earnestly.

“Thank you,” he rasped again.

You raised your chin and he let go of you with his right hand and brought it up to cup your left cheek in his cool palm. His thumb traced an arc across your skin and you shivered, exhaling and breathing hard. “Gilvas…” you whispered, want burning inside you inside you like a flare. You didn’t want to push him or rush him, but if he didn’t kiss you in the next three seconds, you thought you might just wither up and die on the spot.

Mercifully, he leaned down, tilting your chin upwards to meet his lips. His kiss was soft, his lips cool and hesitant, but the moment you let a little moan of pleasure escape you, he deepened the kiss. His long fingers scrunched in your hair and he closed his red eyes with a flutter of long lashes. His two forelegs rose up slightly for balance as his body rocked downwards and he pulled back with a gasp, chest heaving again. “I want you,” he whispered hoarsely, looking suddenly shy.

You grinned and stood. “I want you too…”

Gilvas led you through the house, pausing with endearing frequency to kiss you breathless against almost every spare surface that wasn’t covered by paintings or suits of armour or priceless vases on precarious pedestals, and finally he backed you up against the double doors to a bedroom on the fourth floor, and picked you up so that you had to latch your legs around his waist at the point where his humanoid torso met his spider’s body. You ground yourself against him as he kissed you over and over, his long hair falling around your face in a black and red curtain.

With one foreleg, he delicately pushed the handle down and nudged the doors open. Still holding you, he drew your top off over your head, discarding it to one side as he carried you across the room and deposited you onto a massive bed. It bounced and flexed beneath you, and as you looked around you discovered that it was not a bed, but a thick and intricately woven web slung between the two perpendicular walls of the far corner of the room. You leaned back into it, feeling the soft silken strands flex slightly beneath you, and looked up to see Gilvas’ silhouette in the darkness of the room.

The moon shone through an open window to your right, painting fine silver highlights to the gleaming lacquer of his carapace and needle-like legs, and in the moonlight, you saw that he was dripping webbing onto the floor from the gland at the tip of his spider’s abdomen. You knew enough about driders to know that when they got really aroused, they often leaked webbing like this. Male driders did not mate the way many other beings did, but that didn't put you off. You wanted him - his pleasure, his ecstasy, his noises, his joy…

It did make him suddenly nervous though, as if he’d only just realised that you might be expecting him to penetrate you, and with his anatomy, he couldn’t.

“Gilvas?” you asked, reaching up for him where he still loomed hesitantly above you. “Come here… let me take care of you…”

“I…” he began, but he let you draw him down onto the soft, smooth webbing. His legs ended in those dazzlingly sharp points, and he seemed to dance across the webs like a circus performer on a high wire. He lowered himself down atop you and you kissed him again. His hands skated over your hips and he drew the rest of your clothes off to abandon them beside his bed.

Seeking friction, he carefully slid his slick abdomen against your legs and shivered, moaning. “You’re so warm,” he whispered, head bowing forwards as he rested on his elbows, one on either side of your body. “I can’t believe how warm you are… it’s… it…”

“Does it feel good?” you asked, raking your fingers through his long hair and he nodded wordlessly. “Can you roll over?” you asked.

“Oh gods,” he gasped, clearly aroused by the idea, and nodded.

It wasn’t the most elegant manoeuvres, but once he was on his back with his legs curled upwards like a black, clawed hand, you sat in the gap where his one missing leg should have been, and ran your hand over the smoothness of his underbelly. In no time you discovered the slit in his lower body that was leaking slick, pearlescent fluid all over himself.

“Oh!” he yelled, spine curling and legs twitching as you traced your fingertips around the softer inner walls of the slit. Where the rest of his body was cool and hard, there he was almost searingly hot, the inner walls silky and slick. “Oh gods, oh gods… oh gods…” he chanted in time with your motions, his whole body twitching and making the webbing rock beneath him.

The tendons of his neck stood out in glorious contrast beneath the watercolour birthmark as he clenched his jaw and rammed his eyes shut, lost in the sensations. His fingers scrabbled at the web of his bed and he rocked and shivered and arched into your touch as you worked him closer and closer. You knew he was going to make a mess when he came, and you felt your whole body flush hot at the thought of finally getting him to let go of all his tight control and insecurities, to give himself over to the simple, honest pleasure you were offering to give him.

The thought of that was almost enough to make you come yourself, but you focused on him until he growled softly.

“I want…” he began but cut off as you grazed a spot inside him unexpectedly with a fingertip that made him bellow wordlessly. “Fuck…” he hissed when he’d recovered, head lolling back again, and you grinned at the curse on his aristocratic tongue. “Wait…” he panted. “I want… I want to touch you… before I… before you make me…” he growled again in frustration. “I’ll only be able to… to… come once… please… let me…” Hearing him lose control of his words like that in the face of his arousal only made it all the more endearing.

“You can touch me,” you said coyly without changing anything, but when he genuinely snarled, sounding more like a werewolf than a drider, you laughed and leaned closer to him.

His cool fingers dug into your arms as he tugged you tight against his body, pulling you down to lie atop him along the length of his belly and humanoid stomach, and you ground yourself against him for a little relief. His hand slid down your body, down your side, and before you could think, he was pleasuring you. “Let me,” he hissed when you tensed a little, revealing his venomous fangs as a flash of white in the dimness when you tried to pull back to finish him.

“But I wanted to make you come,” you pouted, and he actually laughed at that, four red eyes closing and crinkling softly in the corners with genuine amusement at your disgruntlement.

“Too bad,” he groused. “I want to watch you first.”

“Fair enough,” you grunted as he caught you just so and you rocked against him. “I’m so close…” and you really were. His touch was relentless, demanding your pleasure in return for the sensations you’d just given him.

“I know,” he snarled right in your ear, teeth - the non-venomous ones you hoped - just grazing the shell of your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

And with that, you came unexpectedly hard, crashing into your release and clinging to him. He eased you through it and when you lay panting and spent on his chest, he moved his hand to his mouth and cleaned himself luxuriantly, obviously enjoying the taste of you on his skin.

After that, he seemed softer and more relaxed, and when you’d recovered enough to get your legs back under you and return your attentions to his body, he finally seemed to have allowed himself this connection to another person. His body heaved and rocked rhythmically, his legs knocking nonchalantly against each other as he spasmed and moaned, and as he grew wetter and slicker around your hand, and his inner walls began to clench and shiver in a distinct cadence, you knew he was getting close. He was also giving you the most delicious sounds; gasping and cursing, grunting and even wailing softly at times when you slowed your touches to a barely-there whisper against him.

Eventually though, he began to rock against you in earnest, and you felt his release coming as a rapidly-building wave, gathering momentum until it finally ripped through him like a wildfire. White release gushed from his entrance and covered your hand, rolling down the sleek, shiny carapace to soak into the webbing while his body heaved and convulsed with pleasure. He made no sound, his face contorted in a rictus of pleasure as he gave everything he had to you, his hands gripping the webbing as he released in messy waves all over himself and you.

Finally as the pleasure faded to something gentler and less intense, he lay back, motionless on his bed, muscles completely slack, face soft, breathing quiet.

“Gilvas?”

“Mmm?” he hummed without moving.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

Weak and completely spent, he lay there unmoving for a long time while you gently trailed your fingers around his still clenching slit as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through him. Eventually, you wiped your hand clean on the webs beside him and shuffled up to lie beside him. He still looked absolutely exhausted and drained, and you sat there a long time just watching him.

After a very long time, he mustered the energy to open one arm to you and you nuzzled in against his bare shoulder. His breath hissed softly through his slack jaw and he pressed a shy kiss to the top of your head. “See why I wanted… to make you… to make you come first?” he whispered, words heavily slurred and indistinct.

You nodded and shifted to drape your arm across his chest and draw idle patterns over the bare skin of his white torso.

His skin was starkly pale in the moonlight, and as you stared at him, you realised he’d probably relied solely on touch for the whole time you’d been in the room. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jutting collarbone, making him inhale sharply.

He was still too thin, still obviously not taking care of himself properly, but, you thought, if he’d trusted you and let you in to this extent, perhaps you could both take care of each other now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he whispered after another long while of silence and closeness in the dark.

“Just thinking how good this feels,” you said honestly. “And how I could lie like this forever… Or at least… until you’re ready to go again.”

He snorted, taken off-guard. “Won’t be for a very long while,” he said bashfully. “Driders don’t recover quickly. Not the male ones, anyway.”

“I’m in no rush,” you said, laying your cheek back down on his cool skin and shivering as goosebumps rippled up your body.

He fumbled around on his other side and drew a large blanket up and over his body, careful to avoid the mess on his carapace, and let you snuggle up beneath it.

You’d have to wait for the dawn to go again though, because you were asleep in his arms in minutes.

___

Maybe we'll get to see more of them in the future, but for now, this four-part story is over. Thanks for your comments and enthusiasm for the cranky spooder boy!

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#drider #exophilia #male drider #male drider x reader #drider x reader #monster boyfriend #drider boyfriend #male monster #gender neutral reader #female reader #(technically - although the reader in this part is gn)

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lorei-writes · 3 years

Text

Lost Letters

Masamune x MC Fluff Parts of this work include suggestive content. [To avoid suggestive content, skip the following months: May, January.] Word Estimate: 2k

Honourable Customers,

We are pleased to inform You all the lost letters were successfully delivered.

Your trustworthy messengers, Azuchi-Kasugayama Postal Service Crew

Content Warnings: war mention, injury mention, suggestive content, food mention, anxiety mention

To my beloved Masamune. It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help. In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing. I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day. I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help.

In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing.

I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day.

I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

To my courageous Masamune.

It is April now, and you came back all beaten and tattered. Your muscles tensed whenever I touched your skin. The disinfectant seeping into your cuts did not help either, I suppose… But you hugged me tight all the same, and did not let go for long. Your breath tickled my neck as you held your ear pressed against my pulse. I wonder, how bad was it this time? But do not get me wrong. I do not mind, I can stay in your arms for however long you desire.

This time, however, it was different. I cannot describe the feeling that I felt when you looked up at me and simply said you feel terrible and need rest. You… Appeared so vulnerable? And I know it never comes easy to you to be in this state.

I love you so much. Thanks for coming back yet once again. I am writing this as you sleep only a few meters away. Please, rest well – and thank you for trusting me yet once again.

To my flirtatious Masamune.

It is May now, and the weather has got quite warm already. However, my dear tiger, treat this as a note of complaint! Although… You will never see it, hopefully. You would see all the other ones then.

Never mind that! How dare you! You big, unruly, sneaky…!!! You know my knees get weak when you kiss me, and yet…! In the middle of the crowd, at that! Truly, my “knees were not a problem” as you put it after lifting me up, but my face surely was! I was red like a crab, Masamune!

How dare you uphold that air of coolness! If it were not for what you whispered… Curse that too, argh! Surely, nobody realised, and you always walk this fast, but… But it is the next morning, and I still am a mess after all the things you did to me the last night!

How dare you stay on my mind even now. Well, you did leave some marks, so surely, it is hard not to think of it, but… ! I want to lay in your arms a little longer, but alas. You had to start work early today of all days…

To my caring Masamune.

It is June now, and somehow, I managed to catch a cold. It is nothing much, really, but you insist I don’t leave bed today… Honestly, I feel a little guilty, but I am enjoying myself. You’re spoiling me quite a lot, my love, and I can hardly oppose it…

You brought some of your work here, so that you could watch over me while I napped. You checked my fever, brought me more covers when I was cold, even got Shogetsu to cuddle me up. When I woke up, you cooked me porridge, and I don’t know what rituals you did in the kitchen, but it was beyond delicious. Or perhaps I’m getting better?

My eyelids are heavier and heavier… And you’re insisting I stop writing and cuddle with you now. You didn’t want to move to sleep in a separate bed either… How could I refuse? I swear, tiger, some may say you hardly care, but whenever I see you acting like this, my heart beats faster.

To my curious Masamune.

It is July now, and this is both a letter of praise, and of complaint. For somebody who learns so fast, you surely never learnt not to get taken away by challenges. However, here end my complaints, as it… Surely is quite entertaining.

We are still running away from our own allies now. We have just settled for the night, and you are calling for me to come eat and sit with you by the fire. Have I ever told you you are the most beautiful when you are free and wild? No? Because your eye sparkles so gorgeously now.

You’ve made me appreciate so many new sides of life. I love sharing it with you, both the good and the bad. I don’t know what you’ve made, but let’s be honest, there are only starts above us and I couldn’t care any less about food right now.

Yes, yes, I’m coming, you impatient cat…

To my hardworking Masamune.

It is August now, and you are swarmed with work. I do not know how you manage to stay on top of it… But truly, you seem tired now. You set off early, and come back late, and it takes little before you fall asleep.

You… You cannot know it, but each night, you return my embrace quite strongly, even if deep slumber has already claimed you. You are adorable – your nose crinkles slightly whenever I kiss your forehead. I started telling you I love you, and you usually mumble back that you love me too… Then you generally get a little upset and nuzzle into my neck, and sometimes scoff about some pillows or radishes, whichever one it is this time around.

I must never reveal the fact that you talk in your sleep if you are tired enough. What if you forbid me from ever indulging in it ever again? I don’t think I could live without it anymore.

Signed,

Your Beautiful Futon

To my joyous Masamune.

It is September now! I want to go celebrate with you, so this letter will be brief:

Thank you for having been born, Masamune.

Please, live a long life. I want to love you plenty more. I need to love you plenty more. To hear you laugh, to see your smile… Your happiness is infectious, and I want for it to last for as long as it can.

To my resilient Masamune.

It is October now, and it came in sour, as if to balance the joy of the previous month. This battle was harsh. You emerged victorious, but at what price? So many were lost… Although I think you would care even for a single person just as much. War is a dreadful thing, to say the least. You know it better than I will ever be able to. That is why you protect me from it, is it not? I wish I could carry half your burden...

When you returned, you only latched onto my wrist. Your hands were cold, and you looked almost lost. Were you scared that I would be gone too? My love, my heart… You held yourself together bravely the entire time, but I am glad you let yourself unwind once in our quarters. I needed to feel that you were alive too.

I helped you wash, and you seemed to relax when I ran my fingers through your wet hair. Perhaps the bath was a good idea in the end. I hope no nightmares come your way today – but if any do, I will do my best to chase them all away. I know you would do great by yourself… But I love you, so please, do share some of your concerns.

To my grumpy Masamune.

It is November now, and oh my, I got to pay you back for how sweetly you cared for me when I was ill. It appears it was your time, my love. I did not expect you to resist so much! “Sleep in a different room”?! As if I would even consider that much! But… You were quite sweet once you caved in. If we were in the future, I would give you a good patient badge!

Kojuro came in later too. You were so adorable when he started telling stories from your childhood! Ah, and you were locked in bed, so for once, I got a chance to actually listen to them too! A shy little Masamune… I wish cameras were a thing in this time.

It was a good day, but please, do not fall ill much. I will always care for you, it is only that… As much as your pouts were a sight to behold, I love your content smile even more. I will have to make some of today up to you.

To my thoughtful Masamune.

It is December now, and you surprised me yet once again. I do know we celebrated Christmas together once, but I did not expect for you to hold onto the idea. This time, you organised everything by yourself, with your own twists to everything.

The party was great – the music, the food, the gifts, I loved every single moment of it. You dressed well too, and I swear, you look even more handsome in the more so festive clothes. It was just cool enough for me to shamelessly cuddle into your side as well… Did you plan that as well?

I must thank you for the gift tomorrow. You must have had ordered this fabric months in advance. It… It really feels amazing knowing that you truly listen to what I say. I love you, Masamune. Somehow, you have this way of making me feel loved even without using any words.

To my adventurous Masamune.

It is January now, and winters in this part of the country tend to grow rather harsh. The snow is thick, and it seemingly keeps on falling, and falling… I did not expect for you to suggest taking a trip, much less one to the hot springs.

I do not know what heated me up more – your kisses or the water. Good thing we retreated to our room fast, otherwise we could be thrown out of the estate. I am quite relaxed after we have made love… Perhaps my initial fear of you suggesting doing it in the snow was completely unfounded. Well, you would not force me to go forward with it anyway, but your drive for novelty is infectious at times.

You went out to get some food for us to share, and I am still lying in bed. The pillow smells of you, and the covers are pleasantly warm from our shared heat. I think you will want to slide right next to me once you are back, will you not? I know you do better with cold than the heat, but is it not too tempting? Ah, I think I can hear your steps… I wonder, what are those plans for tomorrow you have made.

To my calm Masamune.

It is February now. You seem to be at home plenty, and I welcome the change. We cook together nearly everyday, and I am enjoying it a lot. At first, those were more of classes than anything else, but now… We recreated some of the future dishes I told you about. Is that not amazing? You truly could be a chef in my original time.

However! Today I shall take my revenge! Just you wait and see, Masamune Date! I will pay you back for all those hugs from behind, and “sampled dishes”, and for all those “you seem to have a bit of the sauce over your lips”! I prepared something you did not expect yourself, and you have made me this devil!

I hope I can get this surprised face out of you. It should be tasty enough for that? I should carry it to you before it gets cold…

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March again, and I love you all the same.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @ikesenfangirl @themysticalbeing If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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