#is it the same thing that makes him so charismatic ? is it why he radiates main character energy ? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merbear25 · 17 days

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Playing with fire (Yandere! Caesar x Yandere! fem!reader)

So many had been chased away by the intensity of your adoration, leaving you broken-hearted time and time again. When you started your new semester, you found yourself enchanted by the passion that radiated off the professor. With such charm pulling you in, your old obsessive habits resurfaced, only this time your love interest appeared to be more…deranged than the others.

a/n: Caesar gives off yandere vibes, and it’s one of many things I find fascinating about him. I personally envision the reader getting her Master’s or PhD, but no age is mentioned.

CW: NSFW! MDNI! Yandere themes (stalking, possessiveness, obsessiveness), University AU, some angst, rough sex, vaginal penetration, facial.

Mending your heart took a lot out of you; the mental exhaustion of having to put together the scattered pieces each time someone shattered it was taking its toll. With so many practically fleeing from your love, you regrettably tried to fix yourself, thinking that if you were more normal, you’d finally have your love reciprocated. Despite taking such actions for what everyone labeled as self-improvement, it felt as if you were losing a part of yourself. Would you really have to change how you loved in order to be loved?

Sitting in the lecture hall, you tapped your pen against your notebook waiting for the beginning of the semester to officially start. With the clock ticking into position, the professor made his grand entrance right on time. While the others continued talking amongst themselves, your eyes were fixated on him. The long, wild hair, his intense golden eyes and the way he held himself with such confidence, all of which were a recipe to destroy the progress you’d been making.

A familiar feeling burned inside you the longer the class went on. His charismatic deliveries on each piece of information coupled with the passion he had for his subject were sedatives, numbing you to the dangers you were surely going to be thrown into.

Upon dismissal, the others were gathering their belongings, filing out of the lecture hall, yet you remained in your seat. Infatuation left you blind and deaf to what was happening around you. Only when his gaze fell on you and a smirk stretched his purple lips was your trance broken. Flustered and embarrassed about getting caught leering at him, you fumbled with your things and left as quickly as possible—the heat of your blush searing your cheeks. His eyes followed you all the way out those doors and a faint chuckle chased after you.

As the semester progressed, your desires for him had only escalated: keeping track of where he went, his personal habits, who he spoke to, how often he spoke to them, how long he kept people in office. Fighting against your paranoia was a losing battle. You fretted that these other students and colleagues of his were somehow more favored than you, despite you being at the top of the class—even having you forget about the small bits of praise he gave you all while flashing you that bewitching smile of his.

Why did so many have to talk to him? Because he was the head of his department. Okay, but why did he have to keep them in his office for so long? Your mind scattered to all of the possibilities, each one more soul-crushing than the last. Peering around the corner, your malice burrowed into whoever came out of that room. Anticipating him to pivot, your old habit to snake away behind your barrier took over.

Working on assignments was a fine way of passing the time. You knew he parked on the other side of the building, so it was easy to relax in this sense of security you’d cushioned yourself with. However, with comfort comes slip ups.

Satisfied with what you’d done for your class with him, you closed your notebook. “Please tell me you plan on revising those.” That same alluring voice from just moments ago was now in your ear.

Being caught off guard, you were at a loss for words. All you managed was to squeak out an ‘of course’.

Placing his hand on the backrest of the bench, he leaned down, forcing your heart to pound furiously against your ribcage. “I have a fun idea. Would you like to come with me?”

Such a curious invitation left you hypnotized, having you nodding and obediently following him out to his car. Momentarily halting at the surprise that this involved leaving campus, he was ready with reassurance, “It’ll be worth it. I promise. Just get in.”

A slight twinge of uncertainty was easily overshadowed by your unchaste self-involvement with him. Pleased with how compliant you were only whetted his appetite for what he had planned.

Willingly following him over the threshold of his home, he was sure to lock the door as he projected his voice across the room to you, muffling any signal to panic.

Only half listening to him, you followed the line of photos he had hanging up on his walls. Each one showcasing his achievements, aiding your admiration in him.

“You know, you have a promising future in your field, too,” there was a sincerity to his compliment. When you turned to face him, you suddenly felt bites of bashfulness prickling your cheeks.

He sighed with a hint of affection. “Such a winsome look for one who’s hiding some dirty secrets.”

“What do you mean?” Your faltering tone failed to convince him of your innocence.

Humming in amusement of having successfully called you out on your suspicious character, he used it as a segue to the main course, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His longing became more persistent, itching for him to push forward. “Have you any idea why I brought you here? You would’ve been too loud. I can see it on your face—you’re a screamer.”

Seduction dripped with each word, glazing you with just the right amount for consumption. Your look batted between his eyes and lips while he closed the gap between you. You nodded and enticed him. “Let’s gorge ourselves then, shall we?”

Feeling like his intensity was being met, you were pulled into his arms and forceful lips crashed into yours, desperation to satiate this yearning pouring out of them.

Getting caught in his whirlwind of passion, you wanted to ground yourself for a moment, “W-wait.” You gasped.

Frowning at your sign of resistance, he reminded you of your concerning behavior towards him, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? What you’ve been after?”

Worrying you’d miss your chance at finally having a partner who’d relish in your intensity, you admitted to this being something that before you’d only dreamed of.

“Then don’t you dare take it away from me,” his words sounded more like a threat but worked wonders on your deluded idea of romance.

Your place in this hyper-sexualized indulgence was made crystal clear: you were to be used as he pleased. Being tossed around by someone who was swelling with as much desire for you as you had for them was a godsend. It led you to believe you would never again have to hide such a disturbing love from him.

Slapping yourself up and down on his now utterly soaked length, your moans filled the room. He ran his hand up your enticing neck, settling it at the back of your head. He huffed from the constant berating on his senses, “It seems that your siren calls have entangled me.”

With a sly grin, he tugged on your hair, forcing your head back and exposing your neck to his hungry fixation. Your breasts frantically keeping the pace of his thrusts was keeping him mesmerized. Licking and suckling on your tender flesh, your body writhed under his touch, which earned you a guttural groan.

Witnessing tears swell up in your beautiful eyes only provoked his brutality. His ego was being inflated with each shriek and tremble he forced out of you, while you both stood at the cliffs of ecstasy ready to take the plunge into the rough waters below. Letting those waves wash over you, he was close behind.

Tossing you on your back, he roughly grabbed your tear stained face and he commanded, “Open that pretty mouth.”

Such alluring doe eyes fluttering their long lashes at him brought out his carnal need to mark you as his. With his hand gripping your delicate neck, he grunted upon releasing his own pent-up craving for you, coating you in the sin he’d kept hidden all semester.

His obsession for you dripped down the sides of your face, piquing your want for more from this relationship. As his eyes scanned the work he’d done to you, a satisfied expression painted itself on him. Without having to say anything, there was a mutual understanding that neither of you were going to back down.

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mustainegf · 1 month

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Can you write something about james and the reader being both in Metallica and go on tour and they get put in the same room and it only has one bed and you know the rest 😉😉😉😉

I ADDED SOME FLUFFY BUILDUP I HOPE THATS OKAY!!!

Stepping into the dimly lit hotel room, the hum of the city outside faded into the background, replaced by the soft glow of bedside lamps.

My heart pounded in my chest, not from the day's workload or the technical challenges I'd faced as the band's sound director, but from the unexpected situation I found myself in.

Due to a mix-up with the room assignments, I was sharing this intimate space with James, the band's charismatic lead singer and rhythm guitarist.

I had always admired James from afar, not just for his undeniable talent that captivated audiences night after night, but also for the genuine kindness and humility he displayed offstage.

There was something about his voice, his presence, that had always drawn me in, stirring feelings I had often dismissed as mere infatuation. But now, faced with the reality of being forced to share a bed with him, those feelings resurfaced with a newfound intensity.

As I unpacked my belongings, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy amidst the unexpected situation, I couldn't help but wonder how this would change our dynamic.

Would the close quarters bring us closer together, or would it highlight the professional boundaries that had always defined our relationship? I found myself torn between the excitement of being in such close proximity to someone I had admired for so long and the apprehension of navigating the complexities of our newfound living arrangement.

I heard the door open, following with a gentle shut. "Hey," James greeted me, a tinge of awkwardness settling in the air.

"Um. hey." I tried to remain composed, but I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as I avoided eye contact, struggling to find the right words.

I nodded, trying not to let my cheeks go red. I was already wearing the clothes I planned to sleep in; baggy sweats and a tight lacy tank top which seemed to draw in his attention.

I slipped into bed, the thin cool blanket tickling my skin. I could almost feel James' eyes on my figure.

James cleared his throat and I could hear him shuffling around, probably getting himself ready to sleep.

He then laid down next to me. I felt the mattress dip, and so did my heart, feeling his warmth radiate to my skin. We were both silent for what felt like an eternity, neither one of us making the slightest movement.

I was so cold in my tank, shivering slightly. I was too nervous to get up.

"You okay?" He asked. My stomach dipped at the sound of his low voice. I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine.

Just cold."

James cleared his throat again as I shifted to face him, closing my eyes so he didn't think I was watching him.

I don't know why I was so paranoid. It wasn't like we hadn't been friends for years. Sure, there was a little bit of attraction between us, but I was a grown woman who knew how to keep her cool. Me and James had maybe had under 10 conversations with each other— that weren't work related.

And that was because I was always too busy watching him sing on stage or avoiding eye contact in the hallway. The only thing we really talked about was the occasional show or gig we went to.

"Come here then, you know. if you're cold," James oftered, sounding hesitant. My eyes shot open in confusion, taking in the sight of James lying shirtless next to me. His body was highlighted by the dim blue moonlight, his eyes dark pools of understanding waters.

My heart skipped a beat. I never thought I'd ever be in bed with James, much less in this position. I never thought I'd ever be in bed with anyone, period. "I don't bite," James laughed softly, pulling his arm around me and urging me to nudge closer.

I scoffed, feeling defeated. And so, with a racing heart, I allowed for his arm to fully wrap my body and pull me to his warm side. I nervously let my head rest on his shoulder, my hand resting dormant on his chest.

With each passing moment, the silence grew heavier until the familiar sound of his heartbeat became the background music to my thoughts.

How strange, to lie here in bed with him after all these years.

"Your heart is going kinda fast," James whispered, his words hanging in the air above me.

I wasn't too sure what to say, I knew he was right.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, kicking myself for even saying anything, it sounded stupid. He chuckled softly.

"Is it me?" James asked slowly, running his hand down my back.

"No, no, I just." I trailed off, still unsure of how to articulate myself without sounding like an idiot.

I sat up, propping myself up on my elbow so I could peer down at him. The precious look on his face was a mix of care and vulnerability, complete trust. Somehow.

I felt his eyes on me, studying my every feature. I let out a deep breath.

James curled his fingers to fold my hair behind my ear, those perfect eyes of his still analyzing me.

I couldn't control what I was doing, I was being fueled purely by passion. I Leaned down softly, letting my lips rest over his for a second or two before pulling away. The kiss was gentle, soft, something so full of love.

I was so intoxicated, my heart was racing, and my body was on fire. I wanted more, but I was afraid to ask. I was afraid to want more.

We stared at each other as we took in what had just happened.

"Are you sure?" He eventually whispered out, his voice was all I needed to hear for my heart to calm.

"Yes." I answered. "I am."

I found myself smiling for the first time in a long time. "Then kiss me again," James said, his voice soft and commanding. I did. This time, it was longer, wetter, and I was lost in his kiss.

All I could taste was him, and feel was his touch.

When we finally broke apart, his hands cupped my face as he peered at me with need. "I've waited so long for this." He admitted quietly.

"So have I," I smiled, my hand sticking resting on his chest.

"C'mere.." he barked quietly, pulling my waist up to sit over his hips.

My lips devoured his in another kiss, his hands roaming over my frame.

He must've been needy, desperate even, because he was already clawing at my tank, pulling it off of me.

"Lift your arms," he ordered, and I did, not thinking twice about it. His eyes widened when he saw my breasts, and he made a low growl.

I giggled slightly, surprised that he would react like that. It hadn't occurred to me that he'd be seeing them for the very first time. Or ever.

"Jesus Christ.." he groaned, his mouth darting to the sensitive flesh.

The feeling took me by surprise, moaning at the feeling of his tongue grazing my nipple.

He was attentive and passionate. He knew what he was doing. I couldn't stop moaning, and he ate it all up. I was so intoxicated with his touch, his attention.

It was the most amazing feeling I've ever felt. After a few minutes of his worshiping, I decided it was my turn.

I moved down his body, taking my time. I knew he was enjoying every second of it. I took my time, every kiss, every stroke, every lick... I knew exactly what I was doing.

I pulled the rest of the blanket off of him, he was only in boxers.

I continued to kiss my way down, all while stroking him through his boxer shorts. He sucked in a sharp breath, almost like he was hurting himself. The tent in his boxers was sure evident, I liked knowing I had that effect on him.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you are killing me here," he muttered, his fingers intertwining with mine.

"Shh..." I hushed, wanting to make this last forever.

I wrapped my fingers around the wait band of his boxers, pulling them down slowly to reveal his erection, which stood up in attention.

"Fuuuuck," he groaned, as his head rolled back, eyes closing in ecstasy. "Mhhmm..." I hummed, taking his throbbing cock in my hand.

"Fuck! You don't even know how good you look.." James rambled on "I should probably warn you now, I'll cum if you keep that up." He winced as I brushed my thumb past his tip.

"Really?" I teased, squeezing him lightly. "Ah-Y.Yeah," he huffed in pleasure.

"Hmm," I hummed again, taking him in my mouth and swirling my tongue around the head. "Fuck!" he shouted, his grip tightening on my hair. "That feels good." He stated, as he started thrusting against my lips.

God, Iloved his cock. I didn't even know why. He tasted good, and he looked even better. I was addicted. I'd never be able to get enough. He moaned as I took him deeper. I took him all the way in, making sure to hit his sensitive spot on the underside of his shaft. He grunted, making the room shaky. His grip on my hair loosened, I Looked up to see if he was okay.

His face was so red, I could see the veins on his neck. He was close. I loved the power I held in my hands.

I bobbed my head on his length, feeling the tension build in him.

I pulled my mouth off of him, finishing him off with a few final pumps.

"FUCK!" he yelled out, coming hard, shooting his seed onto my hand. His orgasm had rocked his whole body. "Oh, fuck!" He mumbled, dropping into the mattress.

"So messy.." I purred, licking the salty cum off of my hand and his cock.

Ilicked him clean, the list in his eyes the heaviest I'd ever seen.

"You are so dirty, sweetheart." He chuckled, running his fingers through my hair.

I gave his tip a soft kiss before crawling back up to straddle his waist. "I need you to fuck me, James.." I whispered into his ear.

"Baby, anytime." He replied. With those words, my heart exploded, like a thousand fireworks going off.

I sat up, rocking my hips on his cock, which was still hard as a rock. His member slid through my wet folds, teasing me with the curve of every vein.

"J-James..." my voice shook wildly, before he slid the head inside of me.

He was big. He stretched me further than any other man. I gasped, biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out. "I know honey.." he whispered, slipping completely into me.

We both sighed simultaneously. It was like we were meant for each other. No one else would fit in our places. "Do you want me to go slow?" he asked, when I tensed at first.

I shook my head, starting to ride him harder, setting the pace for us. "Good girl," he praised, loving how I rode him like a pro.

Our skin slapped together softly, wet and obscene sounds filling the room.

"That's it, ride this dick, so good..." James uttered, his large hands gripping my waist so tightly.

The bruises were already forming. I couldn't help but love it. I'd be sporting those marks for weeks.

"Fuck me harder," I groaned, loving the way he made me feel. I was about to fall over the edge.

"Gladly, sweetheart." He responded, bucking me hard, causing my breasts to bounce.

I threw my head back, grinding my hips harder along with his thrusts. He had found my g spot and was hitting it relentlessly.

"Yesssss," I moaned. I needed more. This wasn't nearly enough. I wanted more of him. More of everything. If only time stood still. I wished it did right then. Without a moment's notice, James flipped me over onto the mattress and pulled my leg up over his shoulder, his thrusts not pausing for even a second.

I squealed, but that just turned him on more. He pounded into me like there was no tomorrow. I'd never had sex like this before. It was intense, hot and passionate. He drove into me, knowing exactly where I needed to be hit. It was heaven. Nothing else in the world compared to this. "Come for me, sweetheart."

He demanded, reaching between us and stroking my clit. My walls contracted, and I came all over him, my juices coating him. My inner muscles tightened around his dick, sucking him in deeper.

"Mmph," I gasped. James' hips stuttered as I felt him fill me up with cum. I basked in the warmth, knowing he'd be inside of me for a good while.

James stopped moving and collapsed beside me. I felt drained, exhausted, but in the best kind of way.

While trying to catch our breaths, we glanced over, meeting the others' gaze.

I giggled, blushing at our shameless display of lust.

"Is it a good time to say I like you?" James heaved, a dorky smile at his lips.

I smiled back, my heart bursting with happiness.

"Yes, I like you too."

I chuckled under my breath, cuddling up to him as we swam in the afterglow of our love making.

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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 2 years

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Drunken Confessions (Terzo x GN! Reader FLUFF Thanksgiving Special)

You wiped the sweat that was dripping off the side of your face with your shoulder as you continued prepping dinner. You were typically left in charge of preparing Thanksgiving dinner for you and your roommates, which ended up being an all day event. There suddenly was quiet, almost timid knock on the door. "Can someone grab the door please!" One of your roommates hurriedly opens the door.

"Who is i- Oh! Papa, what a surprise." You instantly paused what you were doing. Grabbing the towel you had slung over your shoulder to clean your hands you walked to the entry way, wanting to see if your roommate was just trying to play a prank on you. There in your doorway stood Terzo, a casserole dish in hand and a few stray ghouls behind him. He offers you a small wave, stuttering over the start of his sentence for a moment before announcing why he was there.

"My brothers are traveling, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind a little extra company?" You shouldn't have been shocked, it made sense for Terzo to show up at your dorm considering you had been his assistant for years. You were the closest thing he had to a family outside his brothers. But you were still baffled that Terzo, the man you had secretly been in love with for years, wanted to be with you on a day that was all about being with people you cared about. A soft smile finds its way onto your lips as you wave them in, heading back into the kitchen to continue cooking dinner. Terzo follows behind you, setting his dish on the counter before lingering behind you. "I really appreciate you letting us have dinner with you.

"Everyone deserves somewhere to go on Thanksgiving. Besides," You brush your hand up his chest and over his shoulder as you walk past him. "you should know by now that you and your Ghouls are always welcome here. I'm always happy to see you." You couldn't be too sure due to him still wearing his Papal paint, but you could have sworn he was blushing.

"Would you like me to help you with anything? I've been told I'm pretty good in the kitchen." He takes a small step forward, his eyes lingering on your frame as you darted around the kitchen.

"That would be very rude for me to ask my guest for help." You explain, repeatedly jumping for a bag of something that was on a shelf just out of your reach. "You can go make yourself comfortable with everyone else Terzo." At your fourth attempt at jumping Terzo made his way up behind you. You froze at the feeling of him being so close, you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Please, allow me cara mia." He grabs the bag with ease, handing it to you with a small, warm smile. You were pinned between Terzo and the counter, one wrong move and you would be fully pressed up against his chest. Standing this close to him, eyes locked on his, it sent a shiver down your spine. You have always been attracted to Terzo, someone as handsome and charismatic as he was it would be hard not to be. But over your years of working with him you very quickly found out that he was more than just a pretty face. He was so incredibly kind, he was one of the most genuine people you had ever met. All he wanted was to take care of those he cared about around him, and somewhere along the line of seeing him act this way you fell for him. It was moments like these that only sealed the fate of your feelings for him. You were utterly speechless, wanting to thank him but the words could never manage to leave your lips. His warm smile turned into more of a flirty smirk. His hand comes up to gently cup your chin. "Now, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay and help. Use me any way you'd like." Your eyes darted down to his lips briefly at that last statement, unable to hear the words without thinking something absolutely filthy about your Papa. Noticing the shift in your gaze Terzo chuckles, stepping away from you and ushering you free to the rest of the kitchen. You hesitantly stepped out continuing with what you were before this happened.

"You can start mashing potatoes if you'd like, I have to make some gravy." He nods, instantly getting to work on what you tasked him with. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, just like you did for the most part at the office. Every so often Terzo would come over to ask what you would like him to do next. Before doing so, he would gently place his hand on your lower back before speaking so he wouldn't startle you. Every time, without fail, this would cause you to immediately start blushing. Before you knew it everything was ready for dinner. You all sat down to eat, your roommates making sure Terzo's wine glass was always full, which led to everyone being loud, rambunctious, and having the best time. By the end of the night you were all full of good food, happy with amazing company, and warm from the wine. Well, Terzo was a little bit more than warm. He had gotten pretty tipsy throughout the night

"Thank you all for having us, we had a wonderful time." Terzo finally speaks up after a lull in the conversation. A small hiccup escaped him, which he quickly excuses himself of. All of the Ghouls stood and gave their thanks, all of them ready to slip into a food coma. You couldn't help but notice that Papa was swaying slightly as he stood.

"Papa, come on, I'll walk you back to your quarters." He gave you an absolutely delighted smile, he offered you his arm to walk with, you gladly accepted it. "Did you have a good time tonight?" You look up at him, he looked even more handsome than usual in the pale moonlight.

"My darling, I had a wonderful time. I'll have to make it up to you sometime." The two of you share one longing glance before forcing your focus to return to the direction you were walking in. Terzo hums quietly as the two of you walk,occasionally breaking it up with a question he suddenly had about you. "You know something? You've been working with me for years and I don't think I know what your favorite color is."

You can't help but laugh at the innocence of the question, "It's (f/c)." His face lights up at your answer.

"Like the sweater I see you wearing all the time?" You nod bashfully, he paid attention to the fact you had a favorite sweater. "I really like when you wear that sweater, it looks nice on you." Terzo says, shooting a smile towards the floor. You can't help but smile at the compliment. You both stopped in front of his door, the two of you awkwardly swaying on your heels as you looked for any reason at all to extend your time together. Terzo reached out and grabbed your hand, his thumb running languidly over your knuckles. "(Y/N), I have a bit of a confession to make." He slurs his words slightly, his brain still rather foggy from all the wine. "I think I love you." Your heart flipped in your chest, you never thought you could ever hear words so sweet. You wanted to grab him and kiss him, to pour out your feelings that you've been hiding from him for years. But you didn't do that. You smiled at him, stepping closer to rest your hand gently on his cheek.

"And I would love to answer you accordingly, but I think I would appreciate it more when you're actually able to understand my answer." The two of you share a small laugh, looking at each other with gazes of pure admiration.

"Perhaps you're right my love." Terzo clears his throat briefly. "Would you still like to come inside? Even if we just sit three feet apart and talk, I'd like some time to have you all to myself." He gently brings the back of your hand to his lips. You shouldn't go in, you knew how persuasive Terzo could be when he wanted something. Not that he would ever try to push anything you didn't want, that wasn't the issue with going inside with him. It was the fact that even without trying he would make you want him to the point where you wouldn't be able to stop yourself anymore. However, the more you thought about it, the walk back to your dorm would be cold and lonely. Being with Terzo made you feel warm from head to toe, and there was no way you could say he was bad company.

"I would love to Terzo." He held the door open for you, you stuck close to him as he also entered the doorway. His gaze caught yours, your breath freezing in your chest as you saw his gaze trail slowly down your face before finally landing on your lips. You left your shoes at the door, knowing how much he hated when the carpet got dirty. You weren't sure the last time you were in Terzo's quarters but it was still just as warm and inviting inside as you remembered. You wandered around the main room, looking at any pictures or little trinkets he had out while he got a fire going in the fireplace. Eventually he sat on one far end of the couch, allowing you to determine how close to or far away you wanted to sit from him. He draped his arm lazily across the back of the couch allowing you perfect access to sitting down next to him and cuddling into his side. He tensed up for a brief moment before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I take it this means cuddling is on the table for tonight?" He says quietly, his soft tone only drawing you into him even more.

"As long as you're okay with it." His face remains in a peaceful smile as he studies every aspect of your face, giving you a nod in response to your statement. He was so warm, you wanted to just melt into him. The comfortable silence in the room was only broken up by the occasional popping of a piece of wood in the fire. You and Terzo were just content being next to each other at the moment. He carefully brushes something off your cheek, his hand remaining there afterwards, thumb running across your skin.

"You're very beautiful, (Y/N)." You can't help but blush at his compliment. You begin to look away, but Terzo keeps you locked in place for a moment longer to add, "Even more so when you blush like that cara mia." He grins at you. The two of you eventually lulled into a new sense of ease with each other. Conversation flowing effortlessly between the two of you, Terzo hung on your every word, and you on his. You had learned more about each other in the past couple hours than you had in the years working with each other. But you could only keep yourself awake for so long, especially after a busy day like this. You felt your eyelids trying to slide shut, your brain missing entire portions of sentences.

"I think I should head back to my dorm Terzo." He sighs, glancing towards the door and then back to you.

"You know, if you wanted, you could always just spend the night here. You can stay in my bed, I'll take the couch." It would definitely be a lot better than walking back to your dorm alone. You didn't want to kick Terzo out of his bed, but you would be lying if you said you didn't want to stay.

"I'll stay, but I'll sleep on the couch, chances are I'll be up before you anyways." He holds you for a little longer, asking if you're sure you'd be alright sleeping out here. He was going to look and find you something comfortable to sleep in so you wouldn't have to stay in your clothes all night. The couch was a pull out so he would set that up, but you were still more than welcome to take his bed. It took a while but you finally convinced him you'd be fine on the couch. He grabbed you warm blankets and fluffy pillows, making your bed for the night as comfortable as possible. The two of you said your good nights and reluctantly parted way for the evening, Terzo reminding you for the millionth time that if you needed anything to come wake him up. You got under the covers, tossing and turning for a while before letting out an annoyed sigh. You couldn't sleep, knowing that Terzo was one room away was making your heart race. You stood, the shirt Terzo gave you to sleep in falling just above your knees. You hesitantly made your way over to his bedroom door, you paused for a moment. Before you could change your mind you brought your hand up to the door and knocked gently. After a moment you opened the door a bit to see Terzo fast asleep. You smiled at the sight of him, you rarely ever got to see him without his Papal paint on, you always forgot how handsome he was underneath. You stepped into the room, wincing as the floorboard creaked under your feet. You called his name softly, "Terzo?" He gives you a groggy hum.

"What is it sweetheart? Are you alright?" Your heart pounded in your chest. His voice was raspy and low, your stomach fluttered at the pet name.

"I'm fine, I was... I was just having trouble sleeping." You say timidly, rushing through your question. "I was wondering if I could stay in here?" Terzo rolls over, pulling back the covers on the opposite side of the bed and patting the mattress. You sit down on the end of the bed, feeling the soft silk sheets underneath your fingers before laying down fully. The mattress immediately molded to your body, it felt like you were laying on a cloud. You locked eyes with Terzo, his bright white iris standing out against the darkness of his room.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks. You nod in response, your heart still thudding in your chest. You feel him shift slightly. "Would it be alright if I held you some more?" You slowly moved yourself closer to him. His fingers touched your waist before his whole arm slipped around you. He pulled you to him, your hands landing on his chest, your face mere inches from his. His skin was smooth and warm under your fingers. You dared to let your hands touch more of him, over his broad shoulders, up the side of his neck, finally letting your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You hear Terzo's breath hitch for a second. "You are making it very difficult to not kiss you right now." He admits, his eyes repeatedly switching from your eyes to your lips.

"Are you still drunk?" You ask bluntly.

"Sweetheart, I am as sober as the day I was born." His grip on your tightens slightly.

"Confess to me again." You were just letting these words fall out of your mouth at this point. Almost too nervous to keep going but way too emboldened to stop. You slid your hand back down Terzo's neck, you feel him shiver under your touch.

"I think I'm in love with you." The statement came out of him in a breathy sigh, every small movement, change in your glance, subtle touch on his bare skin was driving both of you absolutely insane. You hold his face in your hand, crashing your lips against his with such need and fervor that it took Terzo's breath away. He tangles his hand in your hair, his other arm remaining latched around your waist. He rolled over you, his body crushing yours into the mattress. Your lips finally parted, both of you breathing hard as you processed what had just happened. Both of you burst out in a fit of nervous giggles, Terzo pulling you tightly into his chest, you placing soft kisses on his face. The two of you held each other until you eventually drifted off. You woke up the next morning with a smile, stretching before rolling over to find the other side of the bed empty. You sat up, looking around the room, there was no sign of Terzo. You got out of bed and made your way into the living room, there you found him setting up breakfast on his coffee table.

"Good morning." You say quietly, a sleepy yawn following your greeting. Terzo perks up when he realizes you're behind him.

"Good morning my darling." He steps close to you, wrapping you in his arms. "I didn't dream up what happened last night, did I?" You shook your head, looking up at him through your lashes. He smiles at your response, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Good." He replies before sweeping you up in another mind numbing kiss. "I got your favorite, come, sit." You fall back onto the couch with him, holding onto his arm as he finishes opening up all the food. You were so happy you stayed.

#ghost band #ghost bc #fluff #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo x reader #terzo emeritus #ghost terzo #thanksgiving

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sketchfanda · 2 months

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Kirishima's Mystique:Favour for a Friend

Now Uwabami was more than just a pretty face mind you, which saying something when you were a woman whose quirk made you seem like a modern day gorgon akin to Medusa, minus the petrifying gaze of course. She knew for a fact some found her status and position as a pro heroine questionable given she was known more for her looks, nevermind that her quirk heightened her senses and made her able to locate people, but she considered such criticism shallow and vapid at best. After all public opinion could be fickle and often times, PR work and putting oout a good image was as important as fighting crime and besides which modelling helped to make that extra bit of money to cover the bills.

After all, no-one ever said the life of a hero was all wealth and fame, you had to put in the work especially in your hero work and your dayjob and modelling was an art. One that had come a long way and with the variety of quirks out there, there was always a potential in training or a fine charismatic rookie to spotlight and platform. Such being the case on today's shoot for her Studio's set with a fine cute sexy thing recommended by the Britos Agency, a lovely cutie by the name of Monica Del Rio. Mona to her friends of course, a general course student from Jagua del Toro and to say she was a stunner was an understatement.

So much so that her best friend, resident UA exchange student Maya had recommended the girl have a bodyguard on hand, after all an angel with a face and body like hers needed to be protected from all those unsavoury sorts with bad intentions. Though she had a sense of intuition in the back of her mind about specifying Red Riot of all people as the man for the job but the shapeshifting bombshell who'd interned on more than one occasion was insistent. And to be fair, he was proving pretty good at his job not to mention was pretty easy on the eyes and Mona of course seemed comfortable enough with his presence on set. If anything it was like she hardly could ever keep those pretty green eyes of hers off of him.

it certainly seemed as if she considered the hard-headed redhead a muse of sorts, given the grace and charisma she was radiating through her shoots. The cameras couldn't get enough of her whether she was rocking a stylish ensemble or wearing little to nothing for more sensual themes. The girl was a work of art when she got into the sway of momentum so why complain when the results spoke for themselves after all. It certainly helped that the himbo was quite effective alright at keeping any male model partners from getting handsy or have any funny ideas, it's clear he was used to shooting down pervs with dirty thoughts.

Though the snake haired woman wasn't sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her when some portions of the shoot, Mona had convinced Kirishima to step in and fill in as a substitute for a set partner and it seemed like she particularly liked pressing herself close to him. Her hands copping a feel of that muscly body or seeming to guide and encourage his to touch her own thicc, curvy form as if with the familiarity and intimacy of a lover. Whether or not that was the case, the photographers and the camera crew were rather enjoying the chemistry, that was for sure.

Wouldn't you know it of course, just as soon as the shoot ad concluded, the pair had disappeared having no doubt gone back to the pink haired sexy cutie's assigned studio dressing room. Good thing she knew this building like the back of her hand as thanks to her quirk, she was able to locate them as she needed to check up and make sure Mona was doing alright after all that work and effort. As well as ask some questions she felt needed some confirmation for her curiosity's sake, mere inches from the door as she was about to knock politely. Blinking as she picked up on the sounds of conversation and noticed the door was slightly open ajar as that same curiosity took hold and made her peek through the view.

There was Kirishima of course sitting on the couch, idly reading a magazine of sorts as the sound of running water and visible steam was noticeable, indicating that Mona was no doubt using the shower. It was likely the sexy cutie was just finishing up refreshing herself after such a long session of model work and the heroics intern was waiting to escort her back to wherever she was residing for the time being, he certainly was chivalrous for sure. Before soon the pink haired sexy cutie graced him with her presence, a towel around her torso as her erotic freckled skin had a glistening sheen from being freshly soaked and washed. The blush on his face adorable as it was clear being in the presence of someone as damn fine looking as Mona in a state bordering on almost naked was clearly doing things for him, as the snake haired heroine picked up on whatever conversation they'd been in the midst of discussing before her unknown presence arrived.

Kirishima:"Not gonna lie, it's unreal you haven't been signed to a brand or label yet with a body of work like this....and uhm..you're SURE you're okay with this?"*The hardheaded red-head asked, putting the magazine down back on the coffee table, allowing Uwabami to see clearly that Mona was on the cover, one of her previous works perhaps? Before noticing how Kirishima was doing all he could to not stare too long at the towel clad sexy cutie, which was easier said than done. Especially given what little else there was to set his eyes on besides such a fine view of a young woman before him who going by the playful pout on her face seemed to want him to stare.*"I mean I get it, Maya's your best friend and I know how persuasive her and Mina can get...."*Whatever else he was about to say hit the figurative breaks as Mona proceeded to drop her towel, flashing him with a proverbial Happiness Punch. Exposing her thicc, toned naked body before him in all its exotic sensual glory.*

Mona:*a soft playfully giggle escaping her pouty lips as she took in Kirishima's stunned reaction from his surprise widened eyes to his dropped jaw. Making her way over to him with a shy yet sensual stride like the act of doing this set off a small burst of confidence in the shy sweetheart as she sat in his lap, straddling his waist and grasped his shirt to pull it off of him.*"I know and I already told you, I want this. They want it to happen and don't think I don't know you want this......just sit back, relax and be...very, good friends..."*With that said, the sexy cutie pressed her lips to his, softly moaning as she pressed the front of her torso against his. Feeling her juicy tits rubbing agaisnt his firm pecs before she gasped as she felt his hands grab and squeeze her equally glorious ass, her sensetive skin's nerves on fire with bliss and ecstasy.*

Uwabami was stunned, silently gasping as she found herself being an unintentional voyeur, dear lord was she suddenly Midnight or something? Yet she found herself unable to look away at the sight before her, looking on as Kirishima and Mona made out, their tongues dancing together as the chivalrous himbo was soon as naked as she was. And dear lord was that boy, no Man, HUNG as she continued her spontaneous peeping to watch away as Mona kissed her way down along his torso until she was face level with his crotch. Her green eyes twinkling with lust and awe at the length and girth before her as she took it in her hand to stroke and began to plant licks and kisses on it.

Far as Uwabami could determine, Mona was no virgin but she certainly wasn't what you'd call a slut or a whore but damn was she deepthroating that thing with gusto!! But she had to wonder if her eyes were playing tricks on her because it seemed like there was another Mona in the room sitting beside Kirishima, occupying his attention as she made out with him and wait was there another sitting on the other side kissing and licking his muscular torso? Now she knows Mona was an only child, there was no way she was one of a third of a set of triplets!! Until she remembered the details of her quirk mentioned in her profile when she read it over for her portfolio.

Monica "Mona" Del Rio, Nationality:Latin-American (from Jagua Del Toro), Quirk:Duplication!! A quirk that allows Mona to make physical clones of herself, similar but different to the villain Twice. Every copy shares a mental link between themselves and their maker but are also capable of independent thought and action. Often used by Mona for a little help with tasks or work and sometimes...well...

So it would seem that whatever arrangement Mona had made with the Red Riot's two lady friends, one of whom was Mona's BFF, it was clear she was looking to make it enjoyable for both her and Kirishima. Hence her using her quirk to spice up this erotic encounter as the Medusa-like hero coninuted to watch with voyeuristic curiosiy as Mona deepthroated his Lil' Riot, her lips kissing the base and his balls as her copies made out with him. Said clones panting and moaning as the sturdy stud fingered them, the feedback shared and felt between them and their maker if the dribble of juices flowing from Mona's snatch was anything to go by. And it only got spicier from there of course.

First it began with Mona riding him cowgirl style, her booty jiggling and tits bouncing away on that jackhammering cock as Kirishima held and massaged her hips. The two copies in the background in his line of sight making out and giving him a little bonus lesbian show before he was soon fucking one doggy style as the other got eaten out by the one being penetrated. Before Uwabami realised it, there were even more copies as Kirishima was the focus of a reverse gang bang, his herculean body drowning in a sea of a baker's dozen of Mona clones. Their hands caressing and massaging his muscular form while drowning him in their sweat and juices as they cheered him on to fill and flood their erotic holes with his white hot seed.

Uwabami eventually managed to pry herself away lest she get too into her peeping act and let the voyeuristic thrill overtake her as she decided to give the lair a little time and privacy. Making her way to her own dressing room as she felt her thighs slick with her arousal, meaning she new knew she was going to need a shower, a very cold one at that as a hot steamy one would be too much fuel for the fire. Meanwhile back with Kirishima and Mona where the sexy cutie was still getting her world rocked by the hardheaded redhead’s raw prowesss. Even with the added numbers game of her quirk clones to back her up, his alpha male level of skill and experience still managed to win out in asserting his dominance and she was loving every damn second of it.

He had endured the army of raw thiccness, bubbly booties and marshmallow plump tits to wear down the numbers until only the original herself remained to receive all his erotic desire and attention. It hasn’t been an easy feat to say the least, from having one clone sit on his face as two of them sandwiched his shaft between the cracks of their meaty, shapely asses to double titfuck and triple blowjobs. But in the end he was still standing as he was now in the shower with Mona, the redhead and cotton Candy haired hottie kissing with desperate lust and abandon as their primal animalistic thirst had overtaken them with the urge to mate and breed. Mona holding in for dear life with her arms and legs draped around the sturdy himbo’s muscle mountain of a body as he pumped and thrust away like a jackhammer into her hungry, warm snatch.

Hot steamy water rained down upon their connected bodies as their skin glistened, fuelling their passion and desire all the more as their juices rained down and mixed with the water flowing into the drain. Neither one ever aware their little union had prior moments ago had a lone witness who’d keep her lips sealed about what she’d seen but would have some quite interesting dreams tonight. All that mattered for them was Mona getting herself intimately acquainted with her bestie’s boyfriend and to say he received a very high praise review was an understatement. Especially when they finally finished and made their exit after a little afterglow basking and making out of course.

Suffice to say the magazine featuring Mona’s shoot sold very well, some fans even particularly enjoyed the pictures with Red Riot, nobody the wiser to how close and intimate the model and hero had been. Save for a select few, Maya and Mina being among them who were currently snuggling with their Man and the blue shapeshifting bombshell’s bestie naked in bed after a very lusty foursome. Yes sir, Mona had become a very special part of their relationship, even having shared contact details with Kirishima and of course sending him some very sexy naughty pictures on his phone. To say nothing of the plans she was making with Maya and Mina for the future when they went along with their man for a little summer visit to Jagua.

Let’s just say of course Kirishima was yet to know or understand that his two girlfriends had very big plans for him and their relationship. One that involved a lot of wild oats being down and making a lot of women happy with his Lil�� Riot, especially those who got to become a part of what they could call their growing circle of intimacy with Mona being the latest and most recent along side a few others. And yes that was including a certain thicc, sexy cute skater/surfer girl, Who was more than on board to have a real man in her life and not some indecisive wuss who only ever strung her along but I digress. But yes indeed Mina and Maya had big plans in mind and oh if you might be wondering, yes Mineta saw the magazine and yes he was bitter and horny all at once as he cursed god and Kirishima alike, oh how sweet it is…..

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deathfavor · 8 months

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I used Hanma to sweet talk Hanemiya.

Kazutora is the only person who we know that Kisaki had to use another person to get to Kazutora rather than talk to the person himself. Hanma has always been called Kisaki’s weapon, his blade, while Kisaki’s known to be the charismatic and people person, the one pulling the strings. The fact that it has to be passed off to Hanma of all people puts a rather huge implication that Kisaki tried and failed with Kazutora.

And honestly? I think it has a lot to do with the same reasons that Kazutora did not like Mikey initially. Growing up in an abusive situation, Kazutora is very alert to the way people hold themselves. It was part of his survival strategy. He doesn’t like only selfish people or people who look down on others. Kazutora is bad at perceiving genuine kindness and care, but he’s extremely good at perceiving that selfishness and those who look down on others due to his father. More than likely, Kazutora’s entire paternal side carries themselves with the same aura to them. In different degrees and forms, but it’s taught Kazutora what to notice and what to be on guard for.

Which is a little bit of a detour point I want to make. Hanma and Mikey are selfish, but they're selfish in different ways. Which I think is why Kazutora responds better to Hanma than he did to when he first was meeting Mikey. ( Not to mention Kazutora is far more unstable when he meets Hanma so there's that + the promise of killing Mikey that Hanma offers. ) To Kazutora, Mikey is a selfish in a way that directly effects everyone around him. Throwing tantrums, causing a scene, etc. Kazutora hates that. Hanma? Hanma's selfish but in a way that really only applies to himself. He doesn't demand people change things or cater to his will. He's like 'I'm going to do [x] and you can come if you want to'. There's freedom in Hanma's selfishness to join or not. Sure it might effect people as a side effect, but he's not 'everyone must listen to me' sort of selfish. Not in Kazutora's eyes. Kisaki's aura reminds him of Mikey.

So when Kisaki approached him? The tiger’s hackles raised in wariness. He knows that look in Kisaki's eyes, that attitude that surrounds him and he wants no part of it. Even if nobody else sees it Kazutora knows damn well that it’s there. It immediately sets him against Kisaki, and Kazutora has no interest in what is promised to him by people like Kisaki. He’s done with those days. He’s not the same boy that Junpeke used to push around. Not since meeting Baji, and especially since not killing Shinichiro. Getting entangled with people like him doesn’t end well. (Nor does not getting involved it seems in this case.)

So it takes Hanma to draw the tiger in. Hanma who promises danger and adrenaline. Hanma who radiates power and strength and offers him freedom. Hanma who tells Kazutora how strong he is and who promises that he’ll help Kazutora get to Mikey through Valhalla. Hanma knows a broken and wounded person when he sees one. He doesn't often go for that style of interaction but he knows to hand feed the tiger praise and shape him the way he wants ( or rather, that Kisaki wants - although Hanma never 100% listens to Kisaki, he likes his own fun too. ) Kazutora responds well to Hanma's praise and freedom and what he offers.

I just think it's interesting to see a more hands on approach with Hanma being the one who has to lure in Kazutora because Kisaki can't get to him the way Kisaki gets to everyone else.

#᛭ — [HEADCANON] dark dreams await you [KAZUTORA HANEMIYA]#᛭ — [HEADCANON] lose yourself in the adrenaline [SHUJI HANMA]

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abyssalpriest · 11 months

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30 Days of Them #4

Has there been a time where you feel They have sent something to appear to you on their behalf?

(link to post)

The things he sends most on his behalf are masks, things that seem so disparate and independent from him but, under the surface, tie to the same creature. When he presses against the fabric of this plane it forms new bodies around him, expansive and wild - still masks of a different and more literal sort. It's always masks for royalty.

I thought I saw myself stretched across the sky in a form I recognised so intimately, a great bird with wings of clouds and the presence within it of the Sun's light in summer. Why, then, were the feelings radiating off this self so contradictory to my own?

I loved my partner with all my heart. We would walk together, he in the Astral and I physically. The Sky Bird would make its appearance in all its glory, eclipsing any view into the star-heavens and stretching itself far over the land, and it would, with no uncertainty, be beaming down a disinterest at best, but mostly a brewing angered disappointment, distaste, towards my partner. He would beg and plead in religious words how he loved me and therefore the Sky, but the Sky Bird wouldn't budge. Its wordlessness and piercing stare would be unwaveringly cold.

II:

The Eye burns so fiercely in the sky when he shows up. The Sun is rounded by clouds, but overlaid across it in another dimension is so, so clearly not a coincidence in space and time just-so-happeningly making the clouds shaped like an eye. It's his eye, his presence, dwarfing reality before it. I can see him in all his radiance as the Sun itself poking a hole into reality, the physical Sun his iris and its core his pupil. It is a look that connects souls, the interplay of two different people when they realise and communicate through expression that they understand... Something. Whatever it is, I understand. In a world that doesn't look to the Sun anymore I understand who I am looking at. The Sun is his vessel for that.

III:

I was possessed by an older gentleman in the car; his emotions were withered and heavy, and the silence between my partner and I was suddenly host to a pale yet absolute sadness. Tired, melancholic to the highest degree, chalky blue and ghostly. I wondered why my partner adamantly called him "Blue", a marker for a colour in his mind like that of the opaque Day Sky.

My partner at the time moved uncomfortably. I was too busy focusing on this sudden change in my body's input and personality to such an undeniable and unrejectable degree to really watch my partner's reaction to the newcomer, but we both knew this was an older man spoken about in my partner's cult lore as "Damian", and to my partner he was... A sign, likely, that someone outside his cult knew what he was doing. A warning. I check now with tarot to make sure I remember right. "What did my ex think and feel when this man showed up in our car?" X of Swords, in this deck a sword is broken against nine swords now descending upon it. Exactly, I felt it even if I was preoccupied. This was a warning to him, to me a friend.

My phone's auto-suggest recommends I input a link instead of a word, which brings me to something I haven't seen nor copied the link of in at least a month: a video on why Alduin from Skyrim, a character I relate to Leviathan, "should have won".

IV:

The Sky would occasionally roost in our backyard or just over its fence. Often it would skirt metres away from us in a dreamlike haze, unthinking, inhuman to the highest degree, but undeniably present and big.

My partner at the time received a vision: He was cornered in a place filled with the dead bodies of all the children he had caught up in his cult, sat in his chair, submitting to what was about to come which was so unlike him. No more charismatic talking himself out of all danger, no more manipulation, he was resigned: And specifically resigned as the character he pretended to be in his cult. Through the door came the usually fragile form of the one we labelled as my incarnation in my cult's supposed off-plane reality, an alternate universe self if you will, Agnus, but he walked with confidence unlike me and held a scythe in his hands with the perfect poise of someone much stronger than I ever could've been.

He beheaded my partner. One swift movement and it was over. I never understood, but the message was read loud and clear, apparently, by my partner, who would only have another few years alive after this before he was actually killed for his sins.

VI:

The shift in air pressure is like a deluge of ocean water - paradoxically a soft one, but it swamps the land in the feeling of a huge presence of something that could never be seen by the physical eye.

Ahead of him, when the presence grows stronger and stronger, the rooks always fly like heralds.

It always happens, rooks fly literally... But they're a figurative thing too and a symbol for all of reality obeying its programming to fly ahead of him. He winds himself into reality and its programming obeys, like pheromones in the senses of an animal or a software update in the core of a machine.

The air and its spirits are sent ahead of him, the feelings of this plane shifting as it makes way for him. Electronics bend under the weight and start doing strange things and playing unskippable strange songs, televisions play things that match up exactly to things he is talking to you about, conversations of those you walk past speak his words, the clouds contort into clear images like sign language alongside what he's saying, the wind dances with his words as he speaks.

Reality is sent before him on his behalf; reality is, like so much else, the fabric to be used as his masks as he bends himself into the workings of the plane he rarely appears on physically.

#leviathan //#ramblings //#30 days of them #See if this was hermes id be giving literal like... the cat that is just used by him to get around on this plane that lives nearby #or literal birds or. that time he possessed my mother. god that was fucking hjbfdfjgjfjk something. stuff like that. but like.#no Leviathan Shows Up you just dont know its him #basically the inverse of what this question is asking but opposite=the same

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exosmutfactory · 2 years

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Only Forever 002

Originally posted by hyunniebaeked

How long could you wait for the love of your life to decide you are his as well? How many times could you witness all his best moments of winning over agencies and the amount of clothes left overnight from his daily one night stands?

2022 Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Bookclub zone | Chapter 2✓

networks — @superm-net @/bbh-net @/exowritersnet

pairing — Baekhyun x You

word count — 5.0k

genre — model! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, friends to lovers! romance, angst, fluff, smut (eventually)

[ This chapter contains: fluff, anddd ""chemistry"". My finger slipped :'D ]

A/N: A new year isn't complete without this idiotic duo 🥰

⏰💋 Only Forever Tag List: 💋⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @you-n-me-e-e @insta1010 @sorrowinblood @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome @marovekian1 @pearliejoy @loey0491 @__jxnnx3 @soonvivi @jairahxelle @dynqstyna

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, check out this google form, thank you 🌸💗

A/N: Let’s go!~

Chapter 2

So why don’t you stay ’til sunrise?

Days pass by like the warm summer breeze, yet time has seemed to stop at the same time. That’s how it’s always been with Baekhyun: time flies when you’re having fun, but you could stay in these moments spent with him for eternity. There’s just something about him; his messy black hair, honey warm voice, and charismatic energy. The look in his mocha brown eyes.

He’s drop dead gorgeous; broad shouldered, hourglass waist, and hypnotizing hips. A perfect fit for the modeling industry—but with a catch. There’s always a catch. His strict diet, neck-breaking workout routine, and the sheer amount of peer pressure to always appear ‘perfect’ in front of those around him. Those individuals that are constantly peering at him with their judging, envious, and more often than not obsessive eyes. Everyone has an opinion; as his best friend, you know this very well.

You’ve always been there for him; cheering him on from your view of the runway, holding him in your arms in his most vulnerable moments. You’ve seen him at his worst, seen him at his best. You’d like to think that you know him inside and out, but that wouldn’t be true. That isn’t the case. No matter how many years you’ve spent by Baekhyun’s side, he is a mystery wrapped up in silk dress shirts and extravagant bows. A mystery you’d give anything to unfold.

A feather-light caress flutters over your ear. “Hey,” Baekhyun whispers, his minty breath fanning over your heated cheek. His firm chest presses against your back and you jolt at the contact, not expecting him to appear out of nowhere. His presence pulls you from your thoughts in an instant, bringing you back to the present.

“H-hi,” you stutter, your heart racing at his close proximity. You clear your throat, quickly picking up your favorite mug to take a sip of your cold coffee. You stare wide-eyed down at the rippling brown liquid to hide from the warmth of his body and his steady gaze. This man and his sense of personal space… You shouldn’t be surprised.

If there’s one thing you know about him, Baekhyun is never a stranger. With every room he enters, he makes it his own. Walking in with the quiet grace of a swan and compelling everyone to follow. Few have been immune to his charms. Peeking at him now from under the veil of your hair, it makes you wonder how long you can pretend it doesn’t affect you either.

Thankfully he shuffles noisily over to the fridge in his bedroom slippers before he can notice the heat radiating off of your cheeks. The loud slaps on the tiled floor really makes you wonder how the hell you didn’t notice him earlier… He pulls open the door to the refrigerator with the sleepiest look on his face, grabbing a carton of milk. His unruly hair flops all over the place with his sluggish movements. His puffy cheeks are pink with a slight indent from the fabric of his pillow. You clear your throat before sipping your drink again, smiling into the cup. You’ve always found him endearing in the mornings.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs suddenly. You choke, straightening up like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar, “nothing!”

Baekhyun’s droopy eyes drift over to yours, half-lidded with lingering drowsiness. “You know you’re a bad liar, right?” He sets the carton down on the counter and faces you fully, leaning back and resting his elbows on the surface with a raised brow. His gray sweatpants rest low on his hips and his black oversized t-shirt slips off of his shoulder, exposing too much collarbone for you to deal with at 7 in the morning.

“No, I’m not,” you mumble, knowing damn well you are. By the way both of Baekhyun’s eyebrows are raised, you know he’s thinking the same thing. You pretend to be busy stirring the coffee with a spoon to avoid his handsome physique and scrutinizing stare.

“Really?”

“Yep.” The depth of his stunning collarbone burns behind your retinas. You could pour water in there and drink to your heart's content with a dip like that… You choke. The thought sets your whole body on fire. You gulp down your coffee like your life depends on it.

“You know.” You hear Baekhyun move, his slippers sliding across the floor before his cinnamon scent washes over you. “You can tell me anything, right?” His low voice softens with the heartfelt words, setting butterflies free in your giddy stomach. He plants his hands on either side of the table, his biceps flexing from holding himself up while he hovers over you.

Your heart races a mile a minute, pounding even harder when you lift your eyes to meet his. His soft, brown irises implore you wordlessly for answers. Waiting patiently for you to open up to him. If only it were that simple… As if you are capable of thinking clearly right now with his citrus scented hair and manly aftershave messing with your head.

“Yeah…” you gulp, quickly chasing the dryness of your throat away with more coffee. The furrow between his brows prompts you to elaborate. “I know.” You clear your throat, trying your best to keep up the intense eye contact. Your sock-clad foot taps restlessly under the table. Under his curious gaze, you regret only wearing a t-shirt and shorts to bed.

Baekhyun’s eyes drift over your features, searching your expression for answers. You grip hard enough on the handle of your mug for your fingers to hurt. He’s so attentive sometimes; it takes everything in you to fight off a telling blush. Who knows what he will make of that.

“Alright,” he relents, walking back to the counter to retrieve the milk carton. He screws off the lid and tilts his head back, pouring the milk into his mouth. Watching his adam’s apple bob in the long expanse of his slender neck while he gulps it down has you tensing up. You quickly drag your eyes away from the erotic sight, your cheeks burning. Who even makes drinking milk such a scandalous act?! Only a supermodel would. The past few weeks alone with Baekhyun have proven to test your limits. You don’t know if you want to smack him more or yourself.

“What are your plans for today?” Baekhyun gruffly asks, his voice still rough from sleep. He clears his throat, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip when you look at him again.

“Today?” you raise a brow; he doesn’t usually ask you that. It prompts you to reach across the table and tap on your forgotten phone. Your eyes fall on the date with a loud gasp. “What the fuck, it’s the 26th already?!” Baekhyun shrugs his shoulders, grabbing an apple from the basket on the counter.

You clutch the device in your hand, your heart dropping at the realization. The 26th of June falls on a Sunday this year. Which means… Today is your last day. With him. In this beautiful house full of so many fond memories that you’ve made together over the years.

Once the sun rises tomorrow morning and you begin your journey back home to your respective apartments, it will be 365 days before you can be together like this again. A year before you can escape the cruel hands of your reality that lies outside of these bay-windowed walls. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest until Baekhyun softly calls your name.

“If you need anything.” His brown eyes lock with yours, comforting you with the warmth found in those sparkly orbs. “Anything.” He emphasizes, his voice sounding more lively now, the traces of sleep long gone. “I’m always here for you.”

His words pull at your heartstrings. What else did you expect them to do? Between the open expression on his handsome face and the genuine concern swirling in his eyes, it makes you sadder knowing your time spent with him will end soon.

In less than 24 hours, he won’t be your Baekhyun anymore. Your cheeky best friend who always has your back through thick and thin. Your rock to lean on in hard times and light that brightens your whole world. Baekhyun always does his best to be there for you, but in less than 24 hours, you’ll be sharing him with the rest of the world again. He’ll go back to being Byun Baekhyun while you cheer him on from the sidelines.

Done with your intrusive thoughts, you shake your head and shove them aside. You want to focus on him now. You want to tattoo every new beautiful memory on your heart until the next time you get to be with him in this way.

Baekhyun munches happily on his red apple, his cheeks glowing and eyes crinkled into adorable crescent moons. The urge to walk over there and pinch his cheeks is strong, but you resist knowing how much he hates it. Resting your chin on your palm, you settle for admiring him, just now remembering that you left him hanging earlier when your over-thinking kicked in. You still manage to crack a joke despite the ache in your chest. “What are you, prince charming?”

Baekhyun blinks a few times, seemingly lost in his own little world. He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. A hint of pink visibly flushes his cheeks under the rays of sunlight streaming in from the open windows. “For you?” he peeks up at you from underneath his messy black hair, smiling boyishly. “Maybe.”

♡—♡-♡—♡—♡-♡—♡

Waves crash onto the shore, caressing the tips of your bare toes buried in the wet sand. The cool water contrasts with the warm air around you as you lie stretched out across your beach towel. Sunbathing under the orange star peeking over the horizon.

A gentle wind blows, bringing forth the calming scent of seawater and ruffling the loose ends of your hair. Sighing softly, a small smile curls at your lips. You enjoy the company more than the view, but you must admit how much you love coming to this beach every year. The tide is high, the seagulls are soaring through the clear sky, and the gentle sunlight shining down on your sun-kissed skin feels divine.

Humming a happy time, you diligently gather water in your small measuring cup, pouring it into your plastic, neon green bucket. You smooth out its surface with a matching shovel, patting down the damp sand with care. It took a few failed attempts, but now you’ve got this down to a science, and will make your greatest sandcastle yet.

You start with the base, carefully placing four short plateaus. You add two larger ones on top, smoothing all the edges and molding the shapes together from top to bottom. Satisfied, you sit back to admire it for a moment before picking up the handful of seashells you’ve been saving for this very occasion. You carve out windows and lines with a thin stick, adding swirls as well. The castle is nearly perfect when you hear someone approaching you.

You glance over your shoulder to find Baekhyun trudging through the sand. He’s topless with a shirt thrown over his shoulder—which would normally be a distraction if he wasn’t coming dangerously close to your castle. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his blue swim trunks with the cheekiest smile on his face, “hey.”

“Hi,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Pure mischief twinkles in his brown eyes. His smile turns into a full-blown grin while he clasps his hands behind his back. “Whatcha doing?”

“Practicing my mating ritual,” you drawl sarcastically, rolling your eyes when he snickers. “I’m making a sandcastle, Baek. What does it look like?”

“Nothing.” He chuckles, tilting his head and teasingly biting his bottom lip. “Looks good.” He hums, dragging his eyes over every single detail before crouching down to your level. His fingers lightly trail down the side of the sturdy structure, “you missed a spot though.”

“What-”

Within the blink of an eye, he smacks a pile of sand right onto your castle. You gasp so sharply your throat hurts. Your blood boils. Gritting your teeth, you quickly grab your bucket. No biggie. You can fix this. Nothing a little tender love and care can’t fix. The edges start to crumble, but you tell yourself not to fret. You can just-

You suck in a breath when the entire thing collapses. Your eye twitches. You crack a small, strained smile.

It’s fine; you’re fine.

…

You launch yourself at him with a fistful of wet sand. “BYUN BAEKHYUN!”

He throws his shirt at you and runs straight for the waves, dodging you in the shallow water. His loud laughter echoes across the entire shore, startling a few seagulls along the way. His joy is contagious. You can’t help pausing your murder intent for a moment to admire him.

His rosy cheeks, million dollar smile, and messy black hair flopped onto his forehead. The pastel orange and pink hues in the sky favor his honey-toned skin, basking him in an eternal glow while water glistens like millions of stars on his chest. He looks so happy like this. So carefree that you’d do just about anything to see him like this over and over again.

You make it over to him in two slow strides, letting the sand fall from your hand. Cheeky as ever, Baekhyun pulls you into his arms, playfully nuzzling his face and wet hair into your neck. You shiver when the cool water meets your skin, but find yourself looking up at him. His smile beams down at you, shining like the light he is. Revenge be damned. You just want to be with him. You vow to hold onto this memory until the end of time, his melodic laugh melting your heart and brown eyes sparkling under the rising sun.

🌊🌊🌊

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” he asks hours later, lying back on your beach towel with his arms behind his head. Black locks of hair messily spread over the soft blue material.

“Yeah,” you mumble distractedly, lying on your stomach while drawing messy murals with your stick in the sand.

“Did you get your back?” His eyes drift over to you at your silence, narrowing at the guilty expression on your face. He calls your name in a disapproving tone.

“What?” you puff your cheeks, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It’s hard to reach, okay?” You know that’s the lousiest excuse in the book, but you put it out there anyway. Besides, it takes a while for the sun to affect your skin; you’ll be okay.

Baekhyun makes a noise in disagreement. He shuffles around for a moment before his shadow hovers over you. “Here.”

“What-” you turn to him, noticing the bottle of sunscreen on his lap.

“I’ll do yours,” he pulls off his shirt, ruffling his black hair, his brown eyes looking at you expectantly from under the messy strands, “if you do mine.”

Your eyes drift down on instinct. Um—okay. He has definitely been working out lately. There’s no denying it with his torso on full display. You gulp, already nodding before even thinking about it. Those abs are a killer and you aren’t ready to die today. “Wait, wait!” You quickly press a hand to his chest when he leans closer, ignoring how firm he feels under your palm. Lord, have mercy. Your face is overheating and it has nothing to do with the sun.

Baekhyun grunts in annoyance, but his eyes sparkle with curiosity nonetheless. “What?”

“I go first.” You grin, masking your shyness with a tilt of your head. “Can’t have Byun Baekhyun walking a beach-themed runway with an unsightly tan.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes but relents, rolling over onto his stomach. His muscles ripple under his smooth skin. Even his back is built well. Damn. You reach for the bottle of sunscreen before you lose your nerve.

Looking at him now, you’re so glad you stopped him earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to rub him down properly if he put sunscreen on you first. You’ve always been sensitive and very selective when it comes to skin to skin contact, especially on your back. There’s no way you’d be able to hide the effect he has on you; the shakiness would have given you away.

Baekhyun folds his arms under his chin, resting comfortably without a care in the world while you have an internal crisis over how you’re going to get through this. The sun really does favor his perfect physique and honey-toned skin… His slim waist, thick thighs, and broad shoulders… You’re breaking a sweat the longer you look at him. You wonder how his body would feel against-

Hey—you can only be so strong, okay? It’s not your fault. He’s the one who gave you an excuse to put your hands on him! You clear your dry throat, carefully straddling his thighs and leaning over him. The burn of his hot bare skin against yours has you pursing your lips to hold back the feelings stirring inside of you.

“Do you know how to open it?” he mumbles doubtfully, pulling you from your dangerous thoughts.

“Yes.” You roll your eyes. It’s a bottle, a tube for crying out loud. Of course you know how to open it.

“Make sure you get everything.”

“Okay.”

“Everything.”

“O-kay.”

“I swear, kitten, if I get a sunburn-”

“You’ll throw a fit, give me silent treatment for two weeks, then make me sneak a slice of Hawaiian pizza into the venue of some high-end fashion event as an apology.” You list off of your fingers dryly, a smile quirking at your lips. You’ve always loved the way that nickname rolls off of his lips, although you’ll never admit it. “Been there, done that, Baek.”

“Well then…” He turns his head, looking over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his black hair floating in the summer breeze. You know he means business, but you can’t take him seriously with his pouty lips and hair tousling so adorably in the wind. “Do my neck too while you’re at it. I think it all washed away.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t run straight for the ocean-” you barely grab his shoulders in time when he tries to topple you over into the sand. “Okay, okay!” Laughing loudly, you reach for the yellow bottle left on the beach towel. You squeeze some sunscreen onto your hands and rub them together, stalling for time.

Uh—how exactly are you going to do this?

Baekhyun’s broad shoulders and lean back are waiting for your next move, his body constantly shifting under you. You roll your eyes again. He’s so impatient; it’s a wonder how he went into the fashion industry as a model of all things. Having to wait for hours and hours to get into expensive venues and high-class fashion halls. Before he can voice out his complaints, (you can practically feel it coming off of him in waves,) you take a deep breath and place your hands on his shoulders.

Yep. There’s no getting around this. You have to firmly press down on him to rub in the sunscreen properly—and you will, you just hope you don’t linger too long in the process.

Baekhyun is surprisingly quiet while you get to work. Usually he’d crack a crude joke or say something utterly ridiculous to make you laugh with that serious voice of his. But all he does is lie there, relaxing more and more by the minute. You look straight ahead, resisting the urge to watch the lean muscles flexing under your hands. The last thing you need is to be caught ogling him; you only glance down to make sure you haven’t missed a spot every now and then.

Baekhyun is warm—as expected, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that calms your own racing heart down. His skin is smooth like satin and silk. He is perfect for the modeling industry. From head to toe. No wonder millions of women throw themselves at him...

“Okay,” you pull away and sit next to him, rubbing the leftover sunscreen on your forearms. “Done.”

Baekhyun rolls his neck and shoulders before sitting up. Just a peek of his chest has you swiftly turning your head away to look out at the ocean instead. You wish he would have stayed on his stomach for longer. You are not as unaffected by him as you claim to be.

“Thanks. Now.” You jolt when he rests a warm hand on your back. Your eyes snap over to him, finding his brown eyes darker than usual. Baekhyun licks his lips, looking at you meaningfully. “Lay down for me.”

You roll over onto your stomach without a word, and if anyone asks, your face is flushed from the overbearing sun. Not the handsome guy straddling you. You suck in a sharp breath, your heart racing like crazy. Now that you’re lying down, you’re facing another problem: keeping your cool while Baekhyun’s hands are on you. While in your two piece bikini. On this hot June afternoon.

You’re utterly utterly screwed.

This is a bad idea. You’re restless, clenching and unclenching the beach towel in your fists. Stuck between tensing up or melting under his touch. You don’t have long to ponder over this however. The moment he has his large hands on your waist, all your thoughts evaporate. You become a human puddle.

Baekhyun moves over your back with a purpose. He does it without hesitation, his hands confidently covering every dip, curve, and contour of your upper body. It’s unfair how good he is at this—at everything really. Not only that, somehow he manages to work out the knots in your back that have been driving you insane for ages.

You’d fall asleep if you weren’t so self conscious. God, he could be a masseur with those godly hands… Baekhyun chuckles in amusement, drawing your attention back to him, “what?” he asks, a teasing lit audible in his voice.

You freeze. He didn’t hear you; he couldn’t have heard you—but you know that arrogant chuckle anywhere... Yep. He has a shit eating grin on his face right now. You just know it.

“Y-yeah, I mean-” you crane your neck to look at him, smiling innocently. “You’re really talented. You’d go far with those hands, bro.” Your whole world stops the moment that word leaves your lips.

Bro?! Bro.

You want to utterly slap yourself. You just put Baekhyun in the friend zone.

Baekhyun smiles, but you know him well enough to notice the slight lack of mirth in it. “Thanks.” He goes back to covering you with sunscreen while you slam your face into the soft beach towel below. You run the last 4 hours spent out here in your mind over again and sigh.

Yeah. You’re the biggest idiot in the world.

♡—♡-♡—♡—♡-♡—♡

“What do you want for dinner?” you ask when you walk into the living room, securing your twin hair buns under a plastic showercap.

“Pizza.” Baekhyun lounges on the couch, his arms thrown over the back of it with a joint between his fingertips. His legs are spread so far you wonder how his black skinny jeans haven’t ripped yet. He tucks the joint between his teeth and reaches over for his phone on the coffee table, “I’ll order in-”

“Nope.” You snatch it up before he does, slipping it into the back pocket of your blue jeans on your way to the other side of the room.

“But I want pizza…” he frowns, following you into the kitchen.

“We have pizza at home,” you grin, spinning around to proudly show off the various ingredients spread over the counter. Waiting to be opened and baked to gooey perfection. Baekhyun has the most unamused expression on his face when you turn back to him.

“Seriously?” he grumbles lowly from the doorway, running a hand through his hair and taking another drag.

You nod your head enthusiastically just to annoy him further. “And you aren’t getting this,” you hold up his phone, twirling it playfully, “until it’s done.” Your lips twitch in amusement when you notice his scowl. You tuck the phone back into your pocket next to your own, hoping you didn’t irritate him too much. The last thing you want is him shutting himself away from you for the rest of the night. You just want to spend more time with him and this is what you came up with.

Baekhyun stares at you for a long, hard minute, trying to read you like always. “Fine,” he exhales smoke with a long sigh, his brown eyes narrowing. “Let me finish this.”

"Okay!" you beam, clapping your hands together before he turns away. Baekhyun grumbles when he walks back into the living room, but you still catch the amused smile on his face, his joint bobbing between his curled lips.

🌊🌊🌊

Making the pizza goes better than expected. He’s good at dicing up pineapples from watching endless chef videos between long flights. You’re good at portion sizes thanks to your dear grandmother while growing up. Everything is going well until Baekhyun bumps into you while you are standing on your tiptoes to return the flour back onto the top shelf of the cabinet. The white powder rains down on you in an instant. Luckily your hair is still tucked under the plastic shower cap. The same can’t be said for Baekhyun.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss when he goes to touch his hair. “We can’t eat like this. Come on.” You quickly grab his hand and lead him out of the kitchen. “We’re washing your hair.”

“What?”

“You heard me!” You briskly walk down the hallway to his room, bypassing yours entirely. You remember what happened the last time he washed his hair with your shampoo and you're not about to go through that again. ‘This shit is too cheap for my dyed hair.’ Why are you friends with him again? “I’m not eating with you dripping flour all over the food.”

“I won’t.”

You pause in the doorway, giving him a deadpan look. Knowing how excited he gets over eating his favorite food, you know he will. He’s already leaving a trail of flour on the floor. “Come.” You lightly shove him into the master bathroom, instructing him to take off his shirt.

“Shouldn’t I take everything off?” he teases, a smug smirk on his face. “It’s no use if I have flour on my boxers too.” You tell him to shut up and throw a towel at his laughing face to hide your flaming cheeks. The audacity of this man and his shamelessness… If you hadn’t grown up with him, you’d swear he has no sense of decency.

Baekhyun sits on the lid of the toilet in his towel and pokes out his tongue at you while you ruffle the flour out of his hair with a blow dryer. He gags when the flour lands on his tongue and sucks it right back into his mouth with a grimace while you laugh at him. His eyes fall closed when you comb your fingers through his fluffy hair, humming and leaning into your touch. It reminds you of that one summer when you both were messing around in his mother’s kitchen and he got covered head to toe just like this.

You were too young and dumb to realize how bad it was to try washing flour out of your hair. While his mother found you before your natural hair got under the water, Baekhyun had to rock a buzz cut that year. The memory makes you chuckle, laughing harder when he catches on, narrowing his eyes at you. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, grabbing your wrist when you pretend to reach for the sink instead.

“You look pretty handsome with a buzz cut, Baekhyun,” you tease, pushing his hair back to expose his gorgeous forehead. You aren’t kidding; he looks good no matter what state his hair is in. Buzz cut, bowl cut, under cut or long, side-swept fringe… His silence prompts your eyes to shift back to his.

Baekhyun looks up at you with a serene expression on his face. An emotion you can’t quite identify swirls in his eyes, softening them; the sparkly brown irises full of warmth. An adoring smile quirks at his pink lips. You find yourself transfixed when he licks over them, slowly leaning in. He rests his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your heated skin. The tip of his nose brushes your cheek when the ding of the kitchen timer echoes through the house.

“Shit,” you gasp, pulling away from him. “The pizza!”

Baekhyun ruffles his hair and shakes his head with a frustrated sigh. There you go running out of the room, leaving him to his own devices again.

🌊🌊🌊

“Gemini.” Baekhyun’s low voice rumbles in your ear, breaking the silence.

“What?” you lift your head off of his chest and look away from the billions of stars shining bright in the night sky above you, focusing on the man laying on the beach towel next to you. He noticed your gaze gravitating towards the shore an hour ago, and now here you are, stargazing under all of the orbiting planets and twinkling stars. The beach is empty except for the two of you. Nothing but the chirping crickets, the calming sound of the crashing waves, and his steady breaths surround you.

“There,” he points to a cluster of stars, tracing them in a pattern that you can't begin to comprehend. The constellations look nothing like the astrology symbols you know thanks to him. Sneaking out together to pour over textbook after textbook in the back of libraries during your teenage years. He has always been fascinated with the sky. It always surprises you how well he still knows the stars when you take his choice of career into consideration. His endless nights surrounded by flashing lights and extravagant decor...

“Look!” His voice pulls you from your thoughts. You give him your full attention, noticing the bright light streaking across the sky.

“A shooting star.” Baekhyun beams, looking back at you expectantly.

You blink a few times. The excitement written all over his face leaves you dazed. “...What?”

He squeezes you softly within his arms, his chest vibrating under your cheek. “Make a wish, silly.”

His chuckle has a smile tugging at your lips. You look up at the shooting star falling behind the horizon and take a deep breath. There are so many things you could want and hope for in this world. But Baekhyun… With his warm brown eyes and quirked up lips…

If you could wish for one thing and one thing only: you wish to spend forever with him, like this.

A/N: Well this came out spicier than intended 💀😳 Hello, loves! Long time no see! How do we feel about OC so far? Is she a total clown 🤡 or is she just afraid of love? 😔 What would you do if Baekhyun was rubbing sunscreen on you? 🤭😇🔥

Thank you for reading~ I’ll start replying to everyone next Sunday, okay? I’m a busy bee preparing things! 🐝💨✨🌻

Thank you for all the love you’ve shown for chapter one, it warms my heart 🥺💕 See you in March for chapter three!

#baekhyun smut #exowritersnet #supermnet #bbh-net #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun ff #baekhyun #baekhyun x you #exo baekhyun #kpop romance #exo romance #x reader #exo x reader #Only Forever

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chubbytummy · 3 years

Text

(first official post!!! pls enjoy and support!!! sorry in advance for any typos! T^T)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡✰ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✰♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

synopsis:

(bts taehyung-seokjin centric)

taehyung has never had the best eating habits, indulging in junk food to his heart's content. what happens when it finally catches up with him, and his roommate/crush happens to notice?

tw: weight gain, mild feederism, eructo, mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of insecurity, language, slight nsfw (barely)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

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☆

♡

it was no secret to anyone around him that taehyung, as sweet as he was, gave absolutely no fucks about his eating habits. that was one thing he would tell you straight off the bat, and he was completely shameless about them too. if it was yummy, it was yummy. and if it was yummy, he was going to eat it. life was short, and wasn't the point of life to enjoy yourself and be happy?

that's what taehyung believed, anyway.

taehyung wasn't shy by nature; a social butterfly, if you will. he loved making new friends, chatting, and bringing people out of their shell. he was naturally charismatic and funny, and with the added-luxury of movie star looks, a deep and sultry voice, and a great physique, he always had a group of buddies around him. that's just how he was. he loved making people smile and laugh, enjoying the warmth and love that radiated off of those close to him. so, as it seemed, taehyung's life was a blissful stream of joy. he didn't have a care in the world, especially about his food.

that was until he graduated highschool and went off to college. you see, taehyung was quite athletic in highschool. participating in track and field and being in dance with his best friend, jimin, gave him plenty of, if not excessive exercise to burn off all those calories he consumed throughout the day. perhaps he was able to get away with his atrocious eating habits back then. however, there was a teeny problem. now, taehyung wasn't pursuing athletics or dance in college-- he was majoring in fine arts. that meant he wasn't getting the amount of exercise his body was used to. turns out, he didn't have as fast of a metabolism like he'd falsely believed, he just did a lot of cardio. so, factoring together the absence of any exercise (minus walks to classes and to the fridge), no changes in his diet, and the constant late-night junk food binges, things quickly started to add up.

literally.

it started with his cheeks. taehyung had been thin, bordering underweight, most of his life, so of course the little bit of newfound plumpness to his face would be noticable. yet, despite his soulmate's comments over 2 am facetimes saying "jesus, taetae, you look so young! drop the skin care routine, bestie," taehyung didn't see the changes. his cheeks poofed out and softened like freshly baked bread, and they always seemed to be puffy, like he'd just woken up. well, he had been taking a lot of naps lately, maybe that's why? he didn't really care, anyways.

the next noticable change was his hips, thighs, and ass. not only was taehyung blessed with a face sculpted by the gods, he also had a body to die for. if there's any higher power, they CLEARLY pick favourites. with a slim, trim waist and a naturally curvy figure, the weight gain only accentuated his hourglass shape. his hips widened generously, thighs thickened like heavy cream, and ass plumped out lusciously, filling up any seat he sat on to the brim and earning him more whistles and lustful stares then he was already receiving. yet, despite the constant catcalling from other students on campus, and the snugness of his pants, taehyung remained oblivious to his altered form.

the final shift in taehyung's appearance settled itself softly on his midsection. although he'd never had chiseled, drool-worthy abs like his new friend jungkook, who practically lived at the campus fitness center, his stomach had always been completely flat. now, it had softened entirely; he had a bit of a tummy. it wasn't very noticeable, at first, due to his knack for wearing baggy clothes, but it began to show over time. it was chubby and pudgy, and spilled over the waistband of his pants when he sat down. his belly was fluffy like the stuffing of a teddy bear, the surface doughy, as if you could sink your hand into it and leave behind a handprint. it was even more noticeable after he'd eaten. taehyung always bloated terribly. whether he'd had a bellyache, gas, or had just eaten something rather filling, his tummy always swelled up and pushed over his pantline and into his shirt. as well, love handles began to form, curling around his middle and warmly hugging his sides.

he was by no means overweight, but he wasn't exactly skinny anymore. he was softer, warmer around the edges. it suited him.

strangely enough, taehyung hadn't really noticed. besides a passing comment from a loved one, or a short-lived "hmm, that's new," in front of the bathroom mirror before dashing off to an already-late-to lecture, taehyung was pretty ignorant.

but how long can you ignore such a growing issue?

♡

☆

♡

leaning back and gazing up at the tile ceiling, taehyung sighed. he was currently in his friend jungkook's tiny dorm, sitting on his bed and waiting for his roommate, hoseok, to return with pizza. he really hoped he'd hurry up already. his belly was growling like it was angry with him. it was getting kinda scary.

"i really don't know, jungkook-ah, he's just... ugh." he mopplingly prompted his chubby cheeks in his hands and huffed.

"what do you mean you don't know, hyung?" jungkook asked crossing his beefy arms and shooting his friend a skeptical look. "you're like... the hottest and most outgoing guy i know. how haven't you scored a date with him yet?"

the "him" in question was taehyung's new roommate, seokjin. well, he wasn't exactly new. he'd been his roommate for over 5 months now, since his last roommate dropped out. yet, honestly, taehyung didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that worldwide-handsome face in the same vicinity as him everyday. that would always be a shocker, no matter how many times they saw one another.

having a crush was new for taehyung. to put it bluntly, he knew he was good-looking. he definitely wasn't conceited or snobbish about his natural attractiveness, he honestly didn't care about looks. however, he was used to having a secret admirer or two, and unfortunately had to let many people down with his unrequited feelings. he never had any romantic attraction for anyone, even if he knew he was bisexual. in fact, romance really didn't play a role in his life. taehyung liked to paint, watch cartoons, eat snacks and play videogames. he chose friends and food over chasing after boys and girls. he hadn't even watched porn before, that's how uninterested in sex and relationships he was. call him immature or weird, but romance just didn't do much for him. it seemed boring. why would people waste there time on a silly boyfriend or girlfriend when they could be having fun? it just didn't make sense to him.

that was until he met his roommate. now, that was all he could think about. well, besides school and food, that is.

"that's rich coming from you, mr. i have muscles and a six-pack and tattoos and a fucking eyebrow piercing but i'm still too shy to even talk to jisoo." taehyung shot back with a smirk.

at that, jungkook flushed completely. it was true, despite being a 5 course meal plus desert, jungkook was the shyest person taehyung had ever met. he didn't have many friends besides taehyung, his roommate, hoseok, and hoseok's boyfriend. and the latter was just a friend of circumstances. the younger man also couldn't even look a girl in the eyes without blushing profusely and damn near pissing himself from nervousness. jungkook had a slight lisp and an occasional stutter as well, but taehyung found it quite endearing and sweet.

"t-that's not the point, hyung, and you know it!" jungkook replied hastily, still blushing. "why don't you just tell him how you feel? you've been pining after this dude for months!"

taehyung sighed heavily, the sigh morphing into a deep groan.

"because i literally don't know how! jin-hyung isn't going to take my confession seriously if i just say it! he's already rejected half the campus! he needs a gesture! some bold statement," taehyung explained in an exasperated manner, not caring if he was kinda rambling. "he deserves more than some half-hearted bullshit. i have to find a way to catch his attention, something to show him i'm different than the others. that i'm not just another idiot underclassmen trying to win him over! i just don't know what-!"

taehyung took a deep breath, ending his rant. he was beginning to feel upset, having a tendency to work himself up easily. he took a moment to collect himself, or at least try, and looked at the younger expectantly.

"don't look at me like that, hyung." he said after a moment, watching warily as taehyung took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "you know what you gotta do, so do it." he shrugged, still observing his friend. "leth' talk about something else, okay?" jungkook suggested, not wanting his hyung to get anymore upset.

before taehyung could protest, there was a knock at the door.

"that must be hobi-hyung." jungkook spoke, getting up to let his dormmate in. taehyung stayed seated.

as the elder entered the room, the heavenly aroma of pizza followed, wafting around the dorm and into taehyung's nose. his mouth watered. pizza was the perfect comfort food. it always made him feel sated and happy. he could never get tired of it.

"hey tae-ah, i didn't know you would be here!" hoseok beamed, as he brought the pizza boxes over and placed them on the table. "how are you?"

"stressed and hungry."

hobi laughed loudly, his sunshine-like smile lighting up the room. taehyung always liked him. he was sweet, funny, and very handsome. he had a slim build, was a hip-hop dancer, and taehyung had seen his abs before. he'd be jealous if he cared about looks.

"aren't we all?" he joked, before he turned around and looked back at the still open door. "aish, yoongi-hyung, get your ass in here already!"

a low, "i'm coming, fuck off," emitted from beyond the threshold, before hoseok's boyfriend entered the room with a goofy grin and cases of beer and soda in his arms.

looking up at him, taehyung was taken aback.

the last time he'd seen yoongi, at least long enough to get a decent look at him, he'd been skinny. not just skinny, but nearly malnourished looking. his face had been gaunt and he was tiny in comparison to a healthy body. a good wind could have knocked him over. that was months ago. the yoongi he saw now looked quite different. he was filled out, his cheeks plumped and colored as apposed to pale and lifeless like before. his midsection as well, was that a belly? small, yes, but it was there. he looked so much... different. he wondered why.

taehyung had heard about relationship weight many times, and had seen it first-hand as well. when someone gets into a safe and loving relationship, they naturally gain weight. hoseok had opened up to jungkook and taehyung a few times, admitting that yoongi had been in an abusive relationship in the past. however, he was in a healthy one with hoseok now. honestly, it warmed taehyung's heart to see the once frail and sad-looking boy happy and healthy-looking.

it made him wonder if he would ever find a relationship like that. would he put on weight as well? probably not. his metabolism was way too fast, anyways.

"i brought some beer, jungkook don't drink it all this time." yoongi grunted, setting the packs by the desk and plopping down next to his boyfriend on his bed. "oh, taehyung's here. good thing we bought too much pizza."

the others chuckled. taehyung cocked a brow and frowned slightly. what was that supposed to mean?

"i'm starving." jungkook stated to no one in particular, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and a can of beer. taehyung wouldn't be having any alcohol, though, because it always made his cholinergic urticaria act up, and he wasn't in the mood for an itchy rash. besides, he liked soda much more.

"i thought you were on a diet, kookie-ah!" hoseok fake scolded. jungkook scoffed playfully.

"it's called bulking, hyung." he joked. everyone knew he rarely let himself eat like this. he was extremely disciplined. taehyung might've been jealous. "and what about you? thought you were on a diet!"

"i am." the elder replied. "this is all i'm eating. i've still got that dance competition next week- yah! yoongi, don't get sauce on my sheets, you pig!"

he swatted weakly at the mint-haired boy, who nudged him in return and rolled his eyes. it made taehyung smile.

"you can have some too, taehyung-ah." hoseok spoke after a bit. it was then taehyung realized he hadn't gotten any yet. "i know how much you like pizza."

once again, another comment.

"i mean, i don't like it that much." he mumbled, grabbing a slice and and taking a bite. he knew he was bluffing. pizza was the best.

jungkook snorted.

"bullshit tae, you almost always eat an entire pizza whenever we hang out!"

it was true. on an empty stomach, he could scarf down a whole pizza. more if he was especially hungry.

he decided not to reply, finishing his first slide and heading for a second. sinking his teeth into the slice, he all but moaned. it was supreme pizza, his favorite.

"honestly, i have no idea where he puts it all." the redhead commented, finishing up his slice. that was all he'd probably eat, seeing as he's on a diet and all.

"i-i do!" jungkook teased, stuttering slightly from the excitement. "he puth' it all right here."

suddenly, taehyung felt a finger poke his belly. he froze. he looked down to see jungkook's tattooed pointer finger sunk into his plush middle.

"wow, taehyung-hyung." the younger softly exclaimed. "i didn't know your tummy was this squishy."

taehyung felt himself blushing. not out of embarrassment, but something else. jungkook was still touching his belly.

"no way, let me feel!" hoseok reached over, but all too late. taehyung swatted them away and curled into himself, arms wrapped firmly around his middle.

"don't! i'm ticklish!" he lied. yes, he was ticklish, but that's not why he didn't want them to feel his stomach.

it was a strange sensation, really...

♡

☆

♡

a pizza and a 2L of soda later, taehyung felt warm and fuzzy and full.

hoseok and yoongi had left for yoongi's dorm. taehyung was assuming they wanted some alone time, and he knew yoongi had his own private dorm. he didn't want to think about what they'd do, though. ew, just... ew.

taehyung leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling sated. he gently patted his taut tummy and let out a deep burp, sighing afterwards. that was another thing he was shameless about. if he had to burp, he always just let it out. leaving the trapped gas in his belly only made it hurt, so he didn't hold back. besides, it felt good and it was only natural. he usually didn't even say "excuse me." he didn't understand why he had to. everyone burped; why excuse yourself for something completely normal? unlike jungkook, who'd probably die from humiliation, taehyung wasn't shy about it. the only person he'd be even remotely embarrassed in front of was seokjin, but that's a different story.

"mmm, that was yummy, kookie. i'm stuffed."

jungkook was drinking another beer, beyond drunk by now. he mumbled something incoherent, followed by a hiccup and a groan.

"aw kookie, are you drunk?" taehyung teased, ruffling the maknae's soft, black hair. the younger grumbled again. "tired, little guy? let's get you to sleep, bun."

gently, taehyung guided the nearly-passed-out jungkook's head to the pillow of his bed.

"sleep well, bun." he whispered sweetly, leaving a feather-light kiss on the younger's forehead. he'd probably have to stop by tomorrow morning to take care of him when he woke up with a hangover. he was bound to have a killer one with all the beer he guzzled down, and taehyung knew hoseok didn't do well with vomit. he didn't mind, however. taehyung loved to take care of his friends, anyways.

before he left, taehyung cleaned up, ate the last couple pieces the boys left, and did some of the dishes for them. he also really needed to pee, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom.

once he'd gone and washed his hands, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror.

i looked really good today, taehyung thought, peering into the mirror and adjusting his gold-framed glasses. despite being quite handsome, he still felt insecure sometimes, especially as of lately. with some of the comments his friends had been making, he wasn't sure what to think. it was almost as if there was some kind of big joke, and he was the only one who wasn't in on it. he really didn't know.

before taehyung could turn away and exit the small bathroom, his eyes caught something in the corner, by the shower.

a scale.

he had forgotten that jungkook did weight training. it was probably his to keep track of that. or maybe it was hoseok's, since he was on a diet and all. it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter.

however, for some reason, he wanted to try it. knowing your weight couldn't hurt, right? it's just a number, anyways. besides, he was curious.

taehyung pulled the digital scale out and stepped on it, waiting patiently for the box to calculate his weight. it couldn't be too much. he was thin, after all.

looking down, his eyes widened.

78.1kg.

he blinked.

huh. so that's how much he weighed.

the last time taehyung had been properly weighed was his physical exam before freshman year. that was nearly a year ago. he was so thin, weighing in at 60.3 kg. since then, he'd gained roughly 17.8 kg.

wait a minute, that couldn't be right, could it? but he had a fast metabolism! not to mention, he's fairly active. well... sometimes. but he does do a lot of walking! something had to be wrong.

taehyung stepped off the scale, allowing it to level back to a clear screen. he then stepped back on.

78.1kg.

this didn't seem possible. maybe it's because of his clothes. maybe he needed to strip down to his underwear like when he had a checkup at the doctor's. quickly, taehyung peeled off his corduroy pants and baggy sweater, leaving him in his undies and tata-themed socks.

what? they were cute!

standing back on the digital scale, taehyung peered down at the number expectantly.

it was the same, the clothes only weighing a little.

maybe it was all the food he just ate, or maybe he had to use the toilet? but that doesn't explain all those kilos...

he placed himself back on the ground, dumbfounded. how did he manage to put on that much? that was like the freshman 15 (lbs) tripled!

taehyung sighed lowly, before turning to face the mirror.

in just his undies, and for the first time since freshman year, taehyung noticed his body.

his thighs were thick, clinging together like chunky glue. gentle stretch marks adorned the insides, which weren't new, seeing as he's always been a bit thicker than his peers growing up. however, they were more prominent. spinning around, he viewed his ass, which giggled almost lewdly with the slight movement. the plump, golden globes looked even plumper than they had. he had always had an ass, but now? he could probably play a pixar mom in a live-action film.

last, but certainly not least, his eyes settled on the most obvious change: his stomach. his tummy hung over the waistband of his underwear, extremely bloated and round from his big dinner and all the soda he drank. yet, despite being stuffed with pizza, it had softness to it. taehyung ran his hands over his belly, pinching the excess pudge. it wasn't too big, but it was noticable. more than noticable.

taehyung wasn't skinny anymore. he had gotten a bit chubby.

and, strangely enough, he didn't care. infact, he liked it.

taehyung knew he ate a lot of unhealthy foods, that was just who he was. why would he deny himself all the yummy things he liked to eat, just to maintain an "attractive" body? so what he wasn't slim like hoseok or muscular and shredded like jungkook? his body was perfectly fine. it did it's job, and that was the important thing.

above all things, taehyung was shameless. having gained weight didn't mean a thing to him. he was an artist, after all, not a model. his figure really didn't matter in the long run. he was still the same handsome guy, just with a little extra chub. and, honestly, he wondered what he'd look like with just a little bit more. just another layer of cream on his body. he's sure he'd like it, especially with how he reacted to having his tummy poked earlier by jungkook.

so, with the new information tucked in the back of his mind, taehyung dressed and left the small bathroom, making his way out of his sleeping friend's dorm. after double checking on jungkook and leaving the wastebasket beside his bed, just in case he woke up sick, the fluffy-haired boy exited the dorm and began his walk down the hallway, back to his own dorm.

after eating, taehyung usually felt sleepy, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself growing sluggish and drowsy as he strode back to his room. it was a pleasant feeling, really. he'd probably take a nice nap when he got back. maybe make some hot chocolate and catch up on some dramas. yeah, that sounded nice.

as he opened the door to his dorm, he was met with a flush of warmth and soft light. faint music played in the background, and a scent immediately met his nose as he stepped in. it smelled delightful. that could only mean one thing.

taehyung hadn't expected seokjin to be home so early. he wished he'd known; he'd like to have put more time into his appearance. welp, baggy sweater and messy-haired taehyung would have to do.

"ah, tae! you're home!" he heard seokjin call from the stove as he shucked off his loafers. he suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right as seokjin walked up to him, all broad-shouldered and stupidly handsome. "how was your day?"

taehyung smiled as seokjin went in for a gentle hug, sinking into his warm embrace and inhaling his calming scent. seokjin was a real hugger, which taehyung appreciated because he, himself, was an absolute cuddle monster and jumped for any physical affection. it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach, however. he'd hope to just digest them already and move on from this silly crush.

"my day was a happy one, thank you," taehyung replied, nearly pouting as seokjin pulled away from the embrace. "how was your's, hyung?"

"better now that you're here." the elder smiled warmly, and taehyung felt his face heat up. seokjin always knew the right things to say to get his heart racing like mad. "come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while i cook?"

the younger nodded timidly, feeling pleasantly small next to his hyung. he followed him like a puppy to the dorm kitchenette, taking a seat at the small bar table.

"so," seokjin began, as he stirred a pot of glass noodles, keeping an eye on the vegetables and pork strips in the frying pan. he was making japchae, one of taehyung's favorite dishes. "have you eaten dinner yet?"

"oh, i ate pizza at jungkook and hoseok-hyung's place," he answered, hand going instinctively to his still-bloated tum, giving it a fond pat. "truth be told, i probably overate." he let out an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth growing in his lower belly. what was happening to him?

seokjin waved him off.

"there's no such thing as overeating if it tastes good," he countered, and before taehyung could understand what was going on, a steaming plate of japchae was placed in front of him. it was a heaping serving, the small plate only making it look bigger. "here, have some of this."

taehyung flushed, gingerly sliding the plate away.

"um, i-i shouldn't, hyung," he stammered, hand still on his middle, almost defensively, as if he were guarding it. "thank you, but i'm still pretty stuffed."

seokjin chuckled deeply, full lips curled into a smirk. he pushed the dish back in front of him. taehyung gulped.

"taehyung-ah, i've seen you demolish three times this and more in one sitting. i'm not exactly convinced that 'stuffed' is in your vocabulary."

there it was. another comment about his eating habits. however, this time, instead of irritation, he felt something... else.

"jin-hyung, i-"

"you wouldn't let all my hard work go to waste, would you?" seokjin questioned, pouting. taehyung felt his heart jump. "i made this all just for you."

"well... alright. i'll have a bite or... two." taehyung finally spoke, unable to look his hyung in the eye. picking up the pair of chopsticks, he hesitantly began to eat.

it was delicious. of course it would be.

in all his time, taehyung had never met as good a cook as seokjin. not even his own mother --who could whip up a mean bibimbap like nobody's business-- could compare to his skills. the younger male couldn't even count on two hands how many times he's had his belly nearly bursting out of his pants from seokjin's cooking. whatever it was he was making, taehyung was sure to gorge himself to new heights every time; now was only proof of that. seokjin didn't seem to mind. infact, he encouraged it.

"taste good?" the elder quizzed, taking a seat in front of the eating boy and gazing at him fondly, if not a bit intently.

taehyung took a moment to finish chewing his mouthful and swallow. he grinned.

"amazing," he answered, licking his lips. "your cooking always is the best, hyung. it's, like, ethereal."

seokjin let out his iconic windshield wiper laugh, which only made his dongsaeng giggle.

"well, if it's good enough to pull out the 50 cent words for," be mused, leaning a tad closer. "then it's good enough to finish, yeah?"

taehyung's smile faded, as he peered up at the taller man wordlessly.

"you know i don't like leftovers, taehyung-ah. scrape your plate. clean."

he didn't have to tell taehyung twice. something about the subtle command in his tone --the sprinkle of dominance within the seemingly innocent words-- sparked a flame that licked into taehyung's belly.

he continued to eat, and before he could really process anything, his chopsticks clinked against an empty plate. instantly, a crimson heat spread over his face. it was as if he were a different person for a moment.

"all done?" seokjin questioned, taking the plate from the boy as he nodded sheepishly. "good job, tae-ah! you did so well!"

taehyung felt his pants become tighter at his elder's words of encouragement.

"feeling full?"

taehyung's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"i-" a burp interrupted him. he stayed quiet for a moment, hand covering his mouth, before he spoke up again. "excuse me, sorry."

he was blushing like mad. shameless taehyung who?

seokjin snorted. "guess that answers my question."

the slight teasing only increased the tightness of his pants, though he remained oblivious.

to say taehyung was full was a gross understatement. he'd passed the limitations for being full. he felt like if he moved even an inch he'd explode, literally. he looked 7 months pregnant.

"jin-hyung," he began with a taut hiccup, a slight whine to his voice. "i think... i think i ate too much."

and there it was, the rarer side of shameless taehyung. the one who needed affection after overdoing it, and wasn't afraid to beg for it.

"aw, you poor thing," his hyung cooed, helping the younger stand. his belly felt heavy and stuffed to the brim. "let's get you to the couch yeah? how's some hot chocolate sound? sound nice?"

taehyung nodded and hummed, blissed out from the tight fullness. he'd never felt this way from just eating before.

he took a seat on the couch as seokjin scurried off to make hot chocolate, and he used the opportunity to unbutton his pants. although he wasn't exactly too keen on being so unkempt in front of his love interest, his pants were digging into his bloated stomach something fierce. slowly, he undid the buttons and pulled down the zipper, freeing and allowing his tummy to rest atop. he sighed in relief, though it was short-lived when he noticed the slight bulge in his pants. well, that's new?

wait a minute--

oh fuck.

he frantically attempted to pull his sweater down to cover his lower region, but it was too snug around his plush middle to budge much. thankfully, it wasn't entirely noticable.

"here you go, taebear," seokjin said as he walked back into the small living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. one of them had tata all over it: you can guess whose it is. "careful, it's hot. let it cool before you drink it."

taehyung nodded bashfully in reply as the older of the two turned the tv on, switching the channel to some random drama taehyung had seen bits of but couldn't remember the name of. when jin sat down next to him, he immediately snuggled up to his side, head on his broad shoulder.

this. this was heaven right here.

seokjin smiled sweetly, arm wrapping around the younger. his fingers carded through taehyung's fluffy brown hair, earning a quiet sigh and pleased noises from the latter. taehyung's eyes fluttered shut as his scalp was scratched lightly.

soon enough, after finishing his hot chocolate, he felt himself grow drowsy. his belly felt warm and heavy, rising with every deep breath he took.

just as he had nearly dosed off, he felt something warm slip under his sweater and dance against his stomach. it felt like a hand.

he sighed. he must have been dreaming.

slowly, the palm of the hand traced over his swollen tummy, fingers ghosting over his navel. he all but purred at the feeling.

it began to rub circular motions onto the bloated skin with a gentle pressure, releasing a few soft burps from taehyung, who mewled at the lovely sensation. he began to fall deeper into slumber, the warm feeling being the last thing he could remember before he completely fell sound asleep.

when taehyung awoke, he was in his own room, in his own bed. he was under the blankets, glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. yawning, he looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

had he been dreaming this whole time?

placing a hand on his middle, he was shocked to feel how bloated and round it was.

nope. it was all real.

and it felt completely, utterly, shamelessly good.

♡

☆

♡

"hey hobi-hyung, what's up?" taehyung spoke into the receiver of his phone after answering hoseok's call. he was currently working on an oil painting while munching on the oreos he'd bought at the campus snack venue on his way home.

"hey tae," he heard a strained voice answer. someone was in the background coughing. "could-" hoseok was cut off by what sounded like a particularly loud heave "ugh. could you do me a solid, tae. i'll pay you back, i promise."

and just like that, taehyung was on his way over to jungkook and hoseok's dorm. he'd debated bringing his painting with him, but eventually decided against the idea. he didn't want to make sick jungkook even sicker, nor did he want hoseok to complain about him stinking up the dorm with his paint.

the second he opened the door, hoseok rushed out.

"thanks a million, taehyung," he spoke frantically, clearly frazzled but trying to stay calm, though it was evident he was hanging on by a thread. "i hate to do this to you but you know how i am."

taehyung gave him a reassuring smile.

"hobi-hyung don't worry, it's alright! i don't mind!" he explained, placing a hand on his hyung's shoulder. "how's he doing?"

hoseok closed his eyes.

"ugh, he's just... ugh."

taehyung laughed and shook his head.

"aish, i told that dummy not to drink so much," he playfully face-palmed, giggling. "alright hyungie, head over to yoongi-hyung's. i'll take it from here."

hoseok sighed a breath of relief.

"you're a little saint, you know that, taetae?"

he pinched taehyung's full cheeks, kissing his forehead before rushing off. taehyung blushed and giggled to himself softly.

hoseok was really something else.

upon entering his friend's shared dorm and turning on the light, his eyes instantly landed on jungkook, who looked like he'd seen better days.

"taehyung?" he heard the younger croak from his bed, eyes squinted nearly shut. "shit, kill the lights will you, please?"

taehyung quickly flicked the switch off.

"oh, sorry kookie-ah," taehyung apologized, making his way in the dim room to the bed, where he sat.

"it's alright hyung, my head is just absolutely murdering me right now."

"feeling pretty bad, aren't we, bun?" taehyung murmured softly, rubbing the younger's back tenderly.

"god, 'm never fucking drinking again."

taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. he knew that was a lie; he'd probably be in the same position next weekend taking care of the hungover boy.

"okay, bun," he replied, fondly. "can i get you anything? painkillers, perhaps?"

jungkook shook his head, instantly wincing at the movement.

"no i already took some before you came." he answered. "could you just hold me for a bit, please?" his doe eyes found taehyung's gaze in the dark.

the elder boy swallowed back an 'awwww' as he laid down on the bed, taking the sick boy into his arms. he ran his fingers through the younger's silky, black hair. jungkook sighed.

"thanks, hyungie." jungkook mumbled into taehyung's warm chest. "you're the best."

a soft smile melted onto taehyung's lips. the two boys sat in a quiet trance for a while, the only sound being breathing and the hum of the ac. after some time had passed, jungkook broke the silence.

"um, hyungie?"

"what is it, bun?" taehyung replied, looking down at the boy.

"i-i um..." he began, stuttering from what taehyung assumed was nervousness. his stutter always worsened when he was nervous, the elder noticed. "i'm s-s-sorry about what i said yesterday."

taehyung haulted his movements, cocking a brow in confusion.

"what are you talking about, jungkook?"

"yes'therday," he paused to grimace at his lisp, before going on, "with hobi-hyung and yoongi-hyung." jungkook responded anxiously. "i-i shouldn't have c-commented on your body or how much you eat like that. if someone had made a comment about m-m-my stutter or lisp, i'd have been sad. it wasn't cool of me to point out an insecurity like that. i'm- i'm sorry." his voice broke a tad at the last part, though taehyung nearly didn't catch it.

taehyung blinked, taking a moment to process his dongsaeng's confession.

"okay, kookie, three things," taehyung replied after some thought, returning to stroking the boy's hair. "one: it's alright, don't worry about it. i'm definitely not upset with you, honey. two: your stutter and lisp are perfectly fine. they make you unique, make you you, so don't be embarrassed about how you talk, and don't take shit from absolutely anyone about it. got it?"

jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy.

taehyung smiled and continued.

"and three: what makes you think i'm insecure about my body?"

jungkook froze for a moment, clearly trying to conjure up an answer that wouldn't hurt his hyung's feelings.

"um..."

"is it because i'm chubby?"

jungkook didn't say anything, causing taehyung to sigh audibly.

"i have no reason to be insecure about my body, you know, jungkook?" taehyung calmly retorted, not in a mean or scolding manner, but in a blunt one. "i love my body. my tummy's job is to digest the food i eat and convert it to energy. that's it, and he's doing a pretty good job at it. so, therefore, i have no real reason to be insecure, and i'm not. a little tummy fat never hurt anyone."

jungkook looked up to gaze at his hyung.

"so, it didn't hurt your feelings when i t-touched your belly, then?" he asked, voice still slightly broken. taehyung wiped the stray tears from his dongsaeng's cheeks.

"of course not, kookie-ah," the older boy reassured, lips spreading into a grin. "in fact... i liked it."

jungkook went stiff.

"u-um... i-i'm flattered, hyung, i really am... b-but i like girls..."

taehyung let out a deep, rumbly laugh.

"don't be silly, bun!" he teased, still chuckling. "i wasn't talking about you! i wouldn't date your lame ass anyways, even if you did like guys!"

this earned him a playful slap.

"but you did... like it?" jungkook questioned after a comfortable silence.

taehyung nodded a bit stiffly.

"yeah, i... i guess i did." he admitted. "to be honest... i wouldn't mind if seokjin touched m- woah! sorry about the tmi! literally forget i said that, please. like, erase it from your memory."

taehyung flushed in embarrassment as jungkook burst out laughing.

"yah, don't make fun of me! i'll kick your ass you little shit!"

despite the teasing, taehyung definitely wouldn't mind if seokjin touched his belly. infact, he'd fucking love it.

and, well... this all was... new. he'd like to explore this more in the future.

however, little did taehyung know, he wasn't the only one with a bit of experimentation in mind.

♡

☆

♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

hi!! hope you enjoyed this!! maybe a part 2?? please let me know what you think!! love you!!

~ jelly ૮ᴖﻌᴖა

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

#bts feederism #feeder kink #eructo #bts emeto #fantasy feeder #feedist #bts sickfic #feeder series #feederisn

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libradusk · 3 years

Text

Touch Starved | Jesse

Word Count: 6.8k

Pairing: Jesse x Reader

Summary: A night in a Coruscant hotel gifts you plenty of quality time with your lover (and a few noise complaints as well)

Warnings/Content: Explicit smut, mention of alcohol, AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), established relationship, some playful sexual power play, petnames galore, 69 action, a few light spanks to the backside and some tender shaaaaaaaggin’. (And Libra’s frequent overuse of italics.)

a/n: dedicated to the one and only @morganas-pendragons, congrats on finishing your third year of uni Kayla, I’m so proud of you! <3

And of course, a huge thank you to everyone who has continued to support my writing. It’s been a really horrid couple of months for me, but slowly, things are starting to improve. Thank you all for being understanding while I take a much-needed continued break from social media.

CT-5597

Jesse

Jesse who is infamously cocky and funny, if not dangerously outspoken and headstrong during even the most tense of situations. Jesse who is renowned for caring so deeply and so fiercely for what he believes in, and loving even fiercer than that. Jesse, who will never hesitate to be the first on the dance floor at 79’s and the last to leave.

Jesse, the soldier, the brother, the undeniably charismatic individual. The man whose smile would warp the lines of the tattoo draped across his cheekbone with how widely it stretched.

Jesse, who everyone knew would continue to belt out barrack-born anthems that sung of the glory of the Republic, even after he was turfed out of the bar and sent stumbling through the neon maze of Coruscant’s streets until the rising sun inevitably forced the migraine from within his skull.

Though no soul who met him could ever even hope to deny that Jesse was a character, these descriptions and stories told fondly over the shoulders of comrades and acquaintances alike barely scratched the surface of the Jesse you knew.

You can see him now, slipping out of the bravado and bellowing laughter even as he throws it back alongside Fives on the dancefloor, a drink in his fist and a grin that doesn't quite light up his eyes the way it usually does. His gaze stumbles under the weight of the lights and music until it gives way to an expression that looks more detached than enraptured towards the music and movement enveloping him. Within another beat however, it has dragged its way over to you, and finally (and perhaps mercifully), Jesse appears to bloom more into himself the longer it rests on your seated form.

You throw him a pursed smile over your drink, knee bouncing underneath the table. Anticipation and concern peppers your nerves and drives the way your fingers twirl your straw between them. All around you, his brothers continue to laugh and joke between themselves, none the wiser to the energy crackling unspoken across the stretch between the booth and the dancefloor, simply grateful for the fresh taste of decompression bestowed upon their squadron by recently granted leave. Beside you, Kix’s elbow knocks into your side as he adjusts his posture to spread out into a more comfortable position. The medic is quick to apologise, but he needn’t have bothered; your attention is firmly glued elsewhere and as he follows your stare, he soon sees why.

You miss the way Kix smirks warmly into his pint as he turns to recount another tall tale to the troopers sharing the table, ensuring that he unravels the story in such a way that he sweeps up the remnants of their attention with a timed wave of his wrist and a comically timed jab at Hardcase’s expense.

It only takes a matter of minutes more until the other Jesse, your Jesse, steps out of his boisterous skin and slinks over to you.

The surface of his bare hand feels scorching hot as you rise to meet him halfway and grasp it with your own. Your palm is chilly from nursing your drink, the same one that now sat barely touched and long forgotten atop the crowded table. Jesse’s appears to radiate with the heat of a sun in comparison, clammy and blistering as it engulfs your own whilst its twin all but throws his half-empty glass of liquor onto a nearby waitress droid’s tray.

It teeters for a moment before tumbling over and sending a sticky cascade spilling over the side of the metal disk towards the floor below.

There's little time left to waste. You're not content to simply sit back and sweat out the minutes until you can have him completely alone this time, done with sitting back until the alcohol burns your throat and the flash of lights drowns out the grainy buzz in your temples.

Grabbing him more firmly by the hand now, you move to tug him past the straggling group of wide-eyed troopers that have congregated in the wake of Jesse’s stride. You’re not sure you can bring yourself to care anymore if they talk, not while your pulse is twisting louder in your ears with each brush of his thumb against your wrist.

The moment the chill of night time air hits his lungs, the hidden Jesse emerges completely, eyes honeyed but focused as the last few curls of boyish laughter die on his tongue. He shifts his grip to lace his fingers with your own as you weave between the lingering bodies outside. Most here pay little attention to the pair of you, too concerned with casting their own troubled gazes towards the city skyline as they smoke contraband cigarettes and turn over glass bottles between bruised knuckles.

You try to choke down the strange feeling rising in your throat at the sight, focusing instead on the warmth that continues to radiate from Jesse’s body as he trails down the street closely behind you. Despite the charged air that surrounds you both, it suddenly dawns on you that you’ve yet to actually speak a word to him since entering the bar, his late entrance alongside Fives meaning that you had already been swamped with the attention of familiar faces, all of whom were equally eager to unwind and catch up.

But now, as you sneak a sideways glance at him and catch just how tightly his blacks seem to cling to the defined muscles of his torso, you feel that if you were to open your mouth in anything more than a smile, you wouldn’t be able to trust what your brain would make you say, or do for that matter.

Your chest feels so tight with emotion that even breathing feels like a strained action. It had been a tough few weeks, and right now all you wanted, all you needed, was your Jesse all to yourself in the self-made sanctuary only privacy could help you build. A squeeze of your hand assures you that through his tipsy intrepidity, he most certainly feels the same way.

Jesse remains uncharacteristically silent as you hail down an air taxi, though you can clearly feel his eyes on your face in your peripheral vision as you lean forward to speak to the driver through her open window. You attempt to flash him a smile once you finish relaying the last of your directions, but it comes out more strained than you intend, even as you squeeze his hand back in reassurance. Tired is truly an understatement, and for a moment, it dawns on you that there’s a real possibility you might end up falling asleep mid journey.

That is, until you feel the wide, warm expanse of Jesse’s palm deliver a gentle pat to your backside. The action succeeds in ushering you into the back of the cab, and having you feel very suddenly awake again in one fluid motion.

You don't need to shoot him a raised eyebrow over your shoulder to know that he's smirking.

A sharp, very clearly fake cough from the front of the taxi cuts down the heat spreading downwards from your face before it can settle deeper. In the reflective surface of the rear view mirror, you catch the disgruntled glare of the now very unimpressed Twi’lek cabbie. The twitch of her pursed lips accompanied by the dull tap of her blunt, painted fingernails against a bright red sign that sits mounted on the dashboard.

Your stomach flips in embarrassment as you scan over the bold printed words that are listed upon it.

NO EATING/DRINKING

NO SMOKING

NO SASSING THE DRIVER

NO WANDERING HANDS

Where Jesse was smirking before, he now struggles to suppress on a snicker as he stretches to practically lounge across the backseat, clearly unbothered by the stink eye currently being thrown directly his way now by the woman in the driver’s seat - even daring to throw up his hands in mock-innocence in return. For a moment you’re concerned she might actually throw you both back out onto the curb, but instead, you’re just met with another exaggerated roll of her eyes before she throws the well-loved vehicle into reverse and takes off down the neon-painted highway.

With a ghost of a sigh, you lean back slightly into the worn leather seat as the streets of Coruscant rush past your window in a blur of colour and noise. Your gaze slips past the glass, to the apathetic, focused expression of your driver, and finally to your lover once more. Whilst dizzying to watch through the smeared windows, you find yourself helplessly bewitched with how the sharp glow of the city lights splash and dissipate almost rhythmically across Jesse’s face and body. Red, fuchsia and blue drip down his skin before disappearing into the void of his blacks each time you pass under a particularly bright stretch of neon-signage. Whilst beautiful, the glow also highlights just how deeply cut the bags under his eyes are now.

A not-so-subtle squeeze to your thigh unravels the grip twisting around your heart before it can truly poison your mood.

The tenderness in Jesse’s eyes cuts through the dark interior of the cab more brightly than any streetlamp could ever hope to, lips cocking into a half-smile as his attention shifts completely to you once more.

“You okay, mesh’la?” his voice is barely above a low purr as he finally speaks, but it vibrates down to your stomach as though he’d growled it in your ear, his thumb rubbing a mindless, but soothing pattern just above the joint of your knee all the while.

“Yeah... are you?” you shift slightly to face him better, the bottom half of your body twisting somewhat awkwardly against the grasp of the seatbelt clamped across your middle. You reach downwards to curl your own digits gently over his wrist, eyes momentarily darting back towards the driver’s mirror on instinct. There's a brief second where you’re certain you catch her tattooed brows furrowing further and those sharp eyes dart to catch yours in warning, but now at least, they remain focused on the busy road ahead, and you risk leaning over closer towards the trooper beside you. His smile gives way to a subtly weak grin in response.

“Just peachy.”

Half lies from both of you, but there's little time to dwell on them as the air taxi finally pulls into a stop outside your destination.

There's somewhat of an awkward pause as Jesse struggles to get the door open, the lock jamming with his first attempt and sending his shoulder barrelling against the window with an inelegant thump. You cringe a little at the sound, but the Twi’lek leaning over the shoulder of her seat seems unphased as she silently holds out her hand, stony face sporting the same cocked eyebrow and deadpan expression that you’ve become uncomfortably familiar with.

Your strained thank you is met with little more than a grunt of mild disapproval as she turns to fiddle with the radio embedded in her dashboard, effectively ending your transaction and ordering you from her car as she throws your handed credits into a worn-looking box perched on the passenger seat.

“Well she was cheerful.” Jesse’s voice is playful as he moves to grab your hand in earnest now as you approach the towering building in front of you. Despite the lightness of his tone and the way you exhale through your nose in mock-exasperation towards his joke, the air between you is more charged than ever now that you’re so close to finally being alone together for the first time in weeks.

Or was it months? Time had a funny way of twisting away from you as of late.

Nevertheless, all that stood in your way was a brief check in and elevator ride up towards the room you had hurriedly booked for the occasion.

The hotel itself was modest, sporting simple, clean architectural design and minimal decoration just short of clinical in nature. Not that you cared for the details, all that mattered to you was that it provided a temporary sanctuary for you and Jesse to retreat to for the night, far enough away from the pulsing heart of Coruscant that, for a short time at least, you could pretend there was no war, no constant presence of fear, pain and suffocating army regulations.

Just you and Jesse. Your Jesse.

His resolve winds and snaps the moment your feet cross the threshold of the elevator.

“Mesh’la,” his beloved nickname for you rolls off his tongue almost salaciously as he all but collapses against you, pinning you to the cold stretch of corridor with the press of his body. He groans it against your skin again as his lips meet with your pulse point, grinding against you with an overspill of passion that has you mewl and almost drop your keycard with the force of it. Through the building fog in your mind, you wonder if the fact he can finally announce his affections for you aloud and so openly here is what has finally pushed him over the edge.

Or perhaps it's the way you writhe and claw at him desperately in response, half of your mind seemingly determined to have him take you right here and now before you can even hope to complete the last few steps towards your awaiting hotel room.

“Jesse-” you’re not sure if the drawl of his name that slips from your tongue is meant to be in warning or wanting, but it's quickly swallowed up by the trooper as he finally kisses you.

Maker, does it feel good to taste him again. His unrelenting passion, his warmth, you can’t help but want it all, and he’s ever happy to give it to you - groaning into your open mouth, all teeth and tongue and heart as he hurriedly caresses your thighs, your hips, the back of your neck in turn - fingertips mapping out your body with an agonising familiarity that has your knees buckling and restraint crumbling even more.

Jesse practically growls as you break apart to gasp for air, though your panting does little to deter him from continuing his barrage of kisses, as he angles his head to trail them across your jaw and down the junction of your throat, mouthing his desire against the thrumming beat of your heart.

“Missed having you like this - in my arms - all to myself…”

Each part of his confession is broken apart by the scratch of his stubble and the nip of his teeth against your skin until he trails off into something intelligible - burying his face into the crook of your neck with a sigh that sings as much of exhaustion as it does longing.

It's the briefest moment of weakness amidst the suffocating heat of his passion towards you, but it's just enough to allow you to scrape back some semblance of clarity with a shuddering breath of your own.

Delicately, as though he was crafted from glass and not the corded muscle you knew to hide beneath his clothes, you run the fingers of your left hand down the length of his spine, relishing in the shudder that ripples through him in turn.

“Jesse,” your voice already sounds hoarse as you turn to place a kiss against his temple, “let’s get inside of our room and you can have all of me, all night.”

He almost wrestles the keycard from your hands at that.

---

The room itself is as modestly decorated as the rest of the hotel. A brief glance around tells you there’s a basic vanity, a desk, what appears to be the seam and switch of a built in wardrobe, and to the right of the doorway: the entrance to the refresher.

But what truly captures the attention of both of you is the king size bed in the very centre of the room, as well as the open stretch of Coruscant skyline that shines in through the expansive window to it’s left, dappling the navy-coloured sheets with milky diamonds of light.

Jesse grants you mere seconds to appreciate the view before he’s all over you once more.

You find yourself stumbling clumsily backwards against the newly closed door, attempting several times in vain to get the locking mechanism to work through Jesse’s onslaught of kisses. A gasp of what you’re not sure is relief or pleasure (or maybe both) leaves you when you hear it finally click into place just as his lips fasten themselves to suckle at a particularly sensitive spot just above your collarbone.

Each kiss unravels another layer of the Jesse you know and love, each desperate touch and whispered endearment only stoking the fire helping him flare to life in his full glory once more. It's intoxicating and overwhelming in the best way possible, and as he gifts you another taste of the sickly-sweet cocktail that still lingers on his tongue, you’re reminded of the very first time he’d kissed you:

It had been a night not too unlike this one, in which you had finally related to his begging for you to accompany him and the boys on a night on the town. He’d gathered you up in his arms the moment you’d finally relaxed enough to join him on the dancefloor of 79’s, and not long after, you’d backed each other into a corner of the dingy nightclub, with Jesse keening into your open mouth and rutting against you as though struck with the fear that he would never be given another chance to touch you, and the eager remorse of a man that wished he’d done this a long time ago.

Of course, the night had ended with you dragging the drunken tonne of him back to his bunk - though even through his stupor, he’d managed to drag you down after him before passing out at the snap of a finger, face buried securely in the crook of your shoulder the entire night.

And from that point, you couldn’t imagine a future without him at your side ever again.

Jesse’s passion for all he does burns hot, but it's in stolen moments like these, that his touch seems to burn hotter than anything else.

You feel it now as his hands begin to wander once again, tugging at your clothing and gripping at the skin beneath with such a need that it borders on bruising - though you struggle to shrug off how his fingers carry a gnawing tiredness beneath their eager twitching.

The revelation causes a different kind of pang in your stomach, but you force it down and away.

This man deserves to be spoiled.

Shoving half-heartedly at his broad chest, your command only wavers slightly with the struggle to catch your breath as your lips break apart with an audible pop.

“Strip.”

Your head feels light as you step backwards and straighten up your posture as best you can, dishevelled clothing and panting aside. You attempt to give him your sternest face as you issue the demand, but you’re certain you hardly look the part with what you know to be kiss-swollen lips and a chain of love bites adorning your neck.

Jesse hardly fares any better, face ruddy with a blush that creeps down past the high collar of his undershirt, and pupils blown so wide and glassy that they resemble the depths of space itself. His eyes had always stood out to you, even long before the two of you became an item. Though he and his brothers may share the same eye colour, the fire in Jesse’s was everything, it was something you never, ever wanted to see fade.

Those same eyes blink owlishly at you now as you stand firm in front of him, his hands still comically half-raised as though frozen mid-caress. It doesn't take longer than a second for him to whir back into action, however.

His movements are inelegant and rushed as he begins to tear away his shirt from his heaving chest. There's no overt striptease like he’s performed for you before, just pure, unfiltered desperation to feel your bare skin against his own. But even through the clumsiness, you catch the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex with thinly-veiled intention - a reminder to you of the strength he possesses - as well as just how easily the role of dominant could be flipped against you with his slightest change of whim.

The knowledge of this only excites you more.

You decide to follow his example and quickly shed your own garments until you’re both down to your underwear. The walls of the room are practically sweating with the desire that thrums between you now, and you both take a shared moment to admire the other in the dimmed glow of the lighting. Your mouth waters involuntarily as you sink into the sight of him, the reality of finally getting your lover alone and bare after so long settling warmly into your core, twisting delightfully tighter with each second that ticks by.

Jesse can’t help but glow with an obvious pride under your hungry gaze. A familiar smirk blooms across his face, spreading in a way that warms his expression further until the mirth crinkles at the very corners of his eyes. You can't help but smile right back despite the distraction of thrumming in your ears and the slickness that's gathering between your thighs.

It's a sensation that's only amplified when his eyes stop raking over your body to lock with your own, staring you down with an energy that's so charged that the breath skips in your throat.

“Shocked you speechless?” his voice sings with a smile as he taunts you, head tilted in a way that highlights the juncture of his throat.

You scoff in response, but step even closer all the same, noses practically touching now as your lips brush together.

“In your dreams, lover boy.”

He raises a thick brow at the cheesy nickname, but you note how his breath catches as you reach out to push lightly at his chest, palm spreading warmly across his pectoral.

“I dream about you a lot, actually,” Jesse’s long eyelashes tickle the apple of your cheekbones as he lightly presses his mouth against yours in a chaste kiss, “in fact, I had an especially lovely dream about you last night.”

Your stomach flutters a little more at the implication, but you press on, edging him gently further towards the bed until the back of his calves hit the edge.

“Yeah?” your fingernails claw down the ladder of his abs, marvelling in the way the muscles flex and tense with your caresses, “why don’t you tell me about it?”

You kiss him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth with a tug that leaves him melting against you, the heat of his arousal peaking past the waistband of his underwear to graze your stomach as you press even closer.

“Well,” his voice is as strained as his breathing now, strong hands moving to stroke gently over your upper arms before his grip suddenly tightens, “I think it's better if I show you.”

The sound of surprise that leaves you as your back hits the mattress is more of a squeak. In the briefest of moments, Jesse has successfully managed to flip the situation to place himself in control once more. A heavy, yet careful weight pins you atop the silken blue sheets by your hips, a reignited, boyish gleam twinkling in his eyes as he grins up at you from the lower half of your body.

That cocky, gorgeous, bastard.

It's frustrating, but you can’t deny he looks good between your thighs.

“Ah, ah, ah~” he tuts at you, effectively cutting off any grumble of annoyance before it can leave your lips, “it isn't polite to cut someone off mid demonstration, mesh’la.”

Maker, give you strength.

His mouth and tongue are dangerously hot as he trails a haphazard stream of kisses over your hips, the sensation is at once too much and not quite enough, leaving you panting and bucking towards the smirking lot of him to no avail. When he begins to all but purr in contentment as he mouthes over your clothed sex, you have to quite literally bite back a scream of frustration.

“Jesse-”

“Shhhhhh…”

You let out a sob as your head falls back to hit the pillow, the hot rush of air against the dampness of your underwear too much to bear. Jesse chuckles in response, thoroughly enjoying inflicting such a sweet agony on you.

“Don't act so mad at me, cyar’ika,” Jesse pouts as he bats those dark lashes up at you, intent on sucking a bruise into your inner thigh as he does, “just tryin’ to appreciate how gorgeous you are.”

There's no sign of joviality in his confession this time, and your heart warms at the sincerity that glows in those heavy-lidded eyes of his.

A quick snap to the band of your underwear parts the lovesick fog accumulating in your head, forcing your attention back to the man currently toying with the elastic of your undergarments once more.

“Focus, mesh’la~,” his tone is purposefully playful, but his eyes dark with challenge as he flashes you another winning grin, “I need your full attention to tell this story, you want to hear how it ends, right?”

Another kiss, this time placed just against where you ache for him most, the fabric posing as the final barrier to your hard-won reward. Fuck, this man was going to kill you.

You’re torn between searching the fog of your brain for another retort, or giving in and letting him wreck you completely and honestly. Jesse doesn't seem too keen to grant you the time to weigh your options, fingers tapping impatiently against the curve of your hip with an inquisitive hum as you agonise over your choices.

The throb in your core wins out, and you relent, albeit a little bitterly,

“I want to know-” you cut off with strangled gasp as he lathes his tongue against the very inner pocket of your thigh, “please Jesse - fuck - please I want you, I need you.”

The man in question stares down at you with satisfied affection as you buck up to chase a phantom touch once again, groaning in annoyance when you find nothing but the weighted press of his forearms caging your thighs open to his mercy.

“...All right.”

A sigh of relief leaves you at that before you can reign it back, and he chuckles warmly at the sound, stroking tiny circles across your flesh.

“You’ll always have me, mesh’la,” the sincerity in Jesse’s tone makes your breath hitch further as he edges towards where the seam of your underwear meets your left hip, his hot breath causing yet another flurry of goosebumps to rise in its wake, “but let me show you how much it means to me to have you.”

Keeping his eyes locked onto yours, Jesse ducks to catch the side of your underwear in his teeth before dragging it slowly downwards. The material tickles slightly as it catches over your thighs, though it's a mere whisper of a sensation compared to the throb that hits you as your dripping core finally is bared to the chill of the air.

Jesse hums appreciatively at the sight of you spread out beneath him as he leans back to finish pulling away your underwear, haphazardly throwing away the offending garment to join the other scattering of clothing that now decorates the carpet. You bite your lip and raise your eyebrows in response, taking advantage of his momentary lapse in focus to nudge your knee against his hip.

“You too, mesh’la.” You roll the nickname over your tongue, delighting in how the blood rushes to his cheeks with a fervour at having his nickname for you thrown right back at himself.

He scoffs a little at your cheekiness, but indulges your command all the same, practically leaping from the edge of the bed to stand and unceremoniously yank down his boxer briefs. You attempt to hook your legs around his midsection as he rejoins you atop the bed, but he stops you with a slow shake of his head, caging your thighs open with his arms once more.

“So eager!” he sighs in mock-annoyance as you huff and roll your eyes beneath him, simply chuckling as you edge further into frantic desperation.

Little do you know it's taking every ounce of his own willpower to stop from delving into your cunt like it's his last meal.

Though the groan that leaves him as his eyes flicker down once more gives you an indication of how he's really feeling beneath the bravado. In that moment, the sight and sound of him has you feeling on top of the world despite being pinned from the hips down.

You’ve little time to bask in this feeling for long though, as in a moment, Jesse dives forward like a man starved. You throw your head back with a cry as the hot, wet push of his tongue hits the sensitive folds of your pussy, lapping open-mouthed kisses across the seam of your opening as his nose grazes your clit. Stars above, your head feels heavy as you buck shamelessly, chasing the heat of his mouth as he tilts his head to tongue-fuck you deeper, the burn of his flesh against yours as he holds you down the only thing truly grounding you at this point.

To his credit, Jesse takes your writhing in stride, accommodating the frantic movements of your hips with firm, but loving caresses as he places a particularly heavy kiss right against your clit that leaves you breathily calling out his name. He lets out a particularly needy groan at the sound, one that vibrates directly across your thrumming bundle of nerves and hits you like a shock of cold water to the face.

You shudder back to reality, head still spinning with the promise of a quickly approaching orgasm, but enough renewed sense to prop yourself up onto shaking elbows to take in the sight of him. Jesse looks just as wrecked as you feel, eyes closed as he revels in the taste and feel of you beneath his tongue and fingers. A single jewel of sweat beads down the prong of his tattoo that reaches his temple in what you're not sure is overexertion, or the strain of keeping his own pursuit of pleasure in check to focus on yours.

He’s all but thrusting desperately into the air as you reach forward to gently grasp his jaw with shaking digits.

“Jesse…” you trail off as you catch the way his chin glistens with what you’re not sure is saliva, your essence, or a lewd concoction of both, “let me make you feel good too.”

He’s slack jawed and glossy-eyed, but his body is oddly pliable as you tug him up towards your face for a sloppy kiss that leaves you both moaning and grasping for the other. You’re the one to break away first, shooting him a wobbly grin as you pant to regain your breath. His fingers find your face this time, cupping your cheek as he gazes at you with such wonder that it leaves you blushing once more. He remains speechless even as you break apart with a kiss to his open palm, positioning your body to crawl down his torso until you’re face-to-head with his arousal. Jesse seems to catch on quickly to your intentions, grasping hold of your hips to position your lower half over his face - even gracing your backside with a light slap that causes you to jolt in surprise. You attempt to flash him a glare, but the feeling of his broad palm soothing over the swell of your ass reduces you to hissing in pleasure instead, spine dipping before you can stop yourself from sinking lower towards his waiting lips.

Determined not to be so easily outdone, you move to flatten the length of your tongue against the head of his cock, delighting in the broken groan that shakes his chest as the taste of precum hits your taste buds. You let a moan of your own vibrate against the length of his cock as you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper into your mouth, the feeling of his hot, panting breath against your cunt spurring you on. Jesse indulges in the feeling of you for a few moments longer before delving right back into eating you out. You can feel his smirk at the squeak of surprise that leaves you as he roughly pulls you back down to sit on his face, tongue lashing skilfully against your clit in a way that forces you to pull him from your mouth with a gasp for air.

It all falls away from you quickly after that, even as you pump at the slick length of his cock and attempt to focus on the way he twitches against your lips. In mere moments, your vision is stolen from you in a sudden rush of pure pleasure that has you half aware that you’re screaming Jesse’s name towards the ceiling. The trooper continues to lavish attention on you through the waves of your orgasm, tongue firmly lathing against the most agonisingly sensitive part of you as he holds you against him with a determinedly steady hand.

He gently drags the grip of his right hand to pet your thigh as you come down in shuddering gasps, the white slowly ebbing from your vision with the effort of a few slow blinks.

“Welcome back.”

Even in such a compromising position as this, he still has the gall to run his mouth.

A calculated squeeze to the base of his cock has that taunt trail off into a hiss.

“You’re unbelievable.” Despite the impassive tone of voice you attempt to force out, you still curl into his touch as he slowly maneuvers your spent body to rest against the pillows once more.

“Yep, but you love it.” He winks as he shifts to support himself above you, those powerful forearms of his now caging your shoulders at each side as he places a chaste kiss against your clammy forehead. You can't help the laughter that spills from you as he moves to suddenly nuzzle into the crook of your neck, stubble tickling your already oversensitive nerves until you're pushing at his chest for him to release you.

“Because I love you, Jess.”

His expression melts at your confession, chest rising and falling in time with your own as he stares at you with such a tender longing that part of you almost feels like crying.

If you could block out the world and just stay like this with him, forever, then you would in a heartbeat. You'd tear down every star in the sky a million times over if it meant keeping him safe and loved.

If only you could.

“I love you, so much, cyare.” The sunny warmth of his grin spreads across the entirety of his face then. It's contagious, and instantly lifts you into giggling alongside him as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against your own.

“...Is this how things went in your dream?” Your heart turns to honey as you reach up to trace the lines of his tattoo where they drape over his cheek.

“This is even better.” He whispers the affirmation against your lips before stealing them in another deep kiss.

He grinds lazily against you as the kiss deepens, threading you ever closer together with a moan that has your hand frantically searching to loop your fingers through his own.

“Jesse,” your voice is strained with desire as the tip of his cock grazes against your entrance once again, “as wonderful as this is, I really want you inside me now.”

That pulls a genuine splutter of laughter from him, but he slips his free hand down to wrap one of your thighs around his waist all the same, shifting to his knees to brace himself against you whilst simultaneously keeping you pinned to the pillow with one hand gripping your own.

“Your wish is my command, my needy little love.”

Your breath leaves you with a sudden yelp as he finally snaps his hips forward and eases into you with a deep thrust, his public bone nestling against the swell of your clit as he buries himself to the hilt in your warmth. You catch his smile split even wider at your reaction before he begins to fuck you in earnest, never one to hold back for too long. The stretch of his cock has your eyes rolling and your free hand clawing at his shoulder for something to grip on to, but your body opens up to him effortlessly.

You’ve danced with him like this so many times now that being connected to him feels as natural as breathing, despite the rolling cries that drip from your parted lips. Jesse drinks them down greedily with a barrage of kisses and growled praise between each thrust.

“That's it baby - keep making those pretty sounds for me.”

He's making plenty of pretty noises of his own, each of them peppered with sigh-like breaths that catch in his throat every time his hips stutter with the threat of losing his last semblance of control.

Hot tears of pleasure begin to gather behind your lashes as you fight to keep your eyes trained on the sight of him pounding into you. Even with the way your mind spins with pleasure, and how the light spilling from the window appears to cling and dance across the deep bronze of his skin in an ever shifting pattern, the thick lines of his tattoo, and the burn of his eyes remain steadfast - streamlining your focus towards the feeling of him grinding upwards against the sweetest spot inside of you again and again until all you can do is babble his name incoherently.

The sight of you coming apart beneath him only pushes him further, though you’re so overwhelmed at this point that you fail to notice how his fingers release your own to dip down between your bodies until the rough pad of his thumb collides with your clit once more.

A second orgasm rips through you with little extra warning - the coil in your stomach snapping so violently that it robs you of any remaining coherency and has you tightening around Jesse’s cock with a silent scream. You hear and feel him hit his peak right behind your own as he tenses with a shout of your name, barely catching himself as he folds over you and buries his cock as deep as he can reach.

And then, warmth: one that spreads across your insides before spilling down the innermost part of your thighs and onto the sheets below.

For a moment, there is only heavy panting as you both struggle to come back down to the present. Jesse breaks whatever silence has crawled between you with a dry-throated chuckle. The hand that had been twisted in the bedsheets beside your head moments before now moves to stroke the back of your head with a clumsy kind of care only Jesse could deliver.

You're still stuffed full of him even as he lifts himself to avoid crushing you, his thumb dipping across the apples of your cheeks to wipe away the loose trails of tears that streak your skin. He clears his throat before speaking, voice tired, but clear enough to reach you.

“You okay?”

You nod in reply, limbs heavy as you raise your arms to loop around his neck and bring him close for a prolonged kiss.

“Need anything?”

You hum in acknowledgment of his concern, but only snuggle closer in response before whispering against the thump of his pulse.

“Only you.”

He chuckles at that before chastely kissing the top of your head and slowly lifting to withdraw from you. You both groan at the loss of contact, but Jesse’s quick to flop down beside you and gather your body up in his arms once more.

“I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me, cyar’ika.” He traces over the marks left on your skin with an air of sentimentality, dipping his head to kiss over the particularly dark ones left across your neck and collarbone. They're reminders you’ll grumble about when you’re back in the right frame of mind, but you’ll find yourself cherishing them all the same for as long as they decorate your skin.

“Forever then.” You mumble sleepily against the protection his body extends to you, thoroughly spent in every way.

“Forever it is.”

He’d already made that promise to himself long ago.

#jesse x reader #Jesse x you #arc trooper jesse x reader #clone wars reader insert #clone wars imagine #jesse #mine #cheeky

171 notes · View notes

worldsover · 3 years

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

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I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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First Date With Hisoka

Hello anon! Thank you for this post! I’m sure many of us have wondered this for the longest and now your prayers will be answered.

For a while now, I have been thinking about his character and his way of living. I had this odd feeling that how Hisoka acts in public is much different than when he is alone. It seems like his “clown look” is a mask to cover up any feelings that he may have. Given that he doesn't like to talk about his past, the “clown look” is something he does to temporarily take his mind from his troubles. I got this idea by viewing the 1999 anime where he was in a restaurant with his hair down, in a suit, and seemed like he was all by himself. He is a loner and giving him company is the best thing you could do! I think (it’s Obvious) that Hisoka’s two looks are supposed to portray alter egos. His clown look is supposed to intimidate his victims while the other one is supposed to portray him as a normal human and draw people in. Sounds horrible right? It is. Forgive me if you see grammar errors. It's late and I don't have time to check it over!

Not knowing of him being a hunter, you agreed to go out with Hisoka for the first time. You’d met him at an escape room in your town. Both parties weren’t supposed to clash into each other but it happened. His charismatic attitude immediately caught your attention, nearly making you swoon in your Tinder date’s arm. After being home for 10 minutes, you hear a knock on your kitchen window. It is 3 am! Who could be there? It couldn’t be a robber because they’d never knock! You pulled back the drapes hesitantly not knowing what ominous creatures lurked beneath the shadows. The man’s golden eyes shined through the window, sending a chill down your spin. His smile was as wide as his face. It was the man from the escape room!

“Remember me,” he asked, a muffled voice sounded behind the closed window. “You passed out from pleasure.”

No one could forget that very moment. He practically asked you out through a closed window and promised to never stalk you again...sort of.

Headcanon 1: Hisoka is quite the gentleman. This is self-explanatory. Part of his personality involves a subtle attitude, smooth way of talking, and will persuade you to let down your guard because he can tell. Anytime you approach a door, he opens it for you just to beat you to the second door. While you are with him, you WILL NOT open any doors. He has seen other people let the door slam in their s/o’s face or allow them to open it themselves and views it as utter disrespect.

When you see him pulling out your chair before you sit down, you gasp. It is 2021; you’ve never seen anyone do that, only in movies from the 1950s!

If there is a puddle and it's too large for you to step over, he will lay his ripped up jacket in it for you to step on so you do not get your shoes wet.

Headcanon 2: He’ll pay for dinner.

“Feel free to order anything you’d like. It’s on me.”

“It’s on you?”

“Yes. My chest is available if you do not feel like using a plate.”

When he says that he’ll pay for dinner, he’ll play for dinner. You could order lobster, oysters, bread sticks, pasta, or the whole world! He has several debit and credit cards with no limits and will do anything to prove that he cares about his...toy.

Headcanon 3: He thinks of you as an expensive toy.

An expensive toy can be electronic devices. We use these devices to cure our boredom or even grow to love them because they help better our lives in some way.

While you two are enjoying appetizers, he’s gently stroking your hand; his sharp nails grazing your skin in such a satisfying manner.

Headcanon 4: He is much more touchy than he should be on a first date.

Hisoka’s personality isn’t different to anyone who knows him. To your surprise, his flirtations and forward behavior was expected. Instead of sitting across the table from you, he scooted down the booth, sat with 4 inches of you, and placed his left hand around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“Ah. This is much better. Now we can get to know each other better,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You're much shyer than you were in the escape room. Why is that?”

Trying to look him in the eye across the table was very intimidating. It’s odd. You didn’t feel that way when he asked you out through the closed window. The heat radiating from his body hit your face like a sack of rocks. As much as you wanted to respond to him, you couldn’t. On a normal day, you were the talkative and energetic one, but there is something about this unique gentleman that had you aghast.

“Kitten, please look me in the eye when I am speaking to you,” he said ever so smoothly, placing his index finger under your smooth chin, lifting your chin so your eyes could meet his. He gently caressed your cheek with the tip of his nail waiting for you to answer. “Well?”

You flushed. Hard. Harder than you have ever done! Your eyes shook in slight fear. This man’s husky presence brought a sense of dominance; it was as if a lion was standing over you ready to make a move. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he placed his index finger over your mouth.

“Hmmm…your cheeks seem to be a shade of pink. Something I hadn’t noticed before.”

The sound of his voice practically in your right ear melted your brain signaling your entire body to do the same. You appeared to be dumbfounded; staring blankly into his golden eyes. They were mesmerizing.

Everyone knows that you are not supposed to kiss on the first date but Hisoka Morrow does NOT follow anyone’s rules. He leans in close, puckering his lips and you follow. Just as your lips were 0.5 inches away from his, he pulled back causing you to nearly lean into him in a rather humiliating way. The waiter came with a bottle of Red wine and asked if you were ready to order.

Hisoka laughed at the epic fail he saw before him.

“You have to be quicker than that, dear.”

Headcanon 5: He asks a LOT of questions about you. Google might as well write their name on his forehead because he asks you a lot of questions.

He asked questions about your future, your talents, what job you want or have, what are your deepest, darkest fears, and anything he can use to exploit if he needs to. Yes, we all love soft Hisoka, but we have to realize that he is still manipulative at times for his own entertainment.

Of course he dodges questions about him.

Headcanon 6: He asks for a selfie to brag to lllumi. Illumi couldn’t care less about Hisoka’s happiness but he entertains the thought. Although Illumi claims he doesn’t need friends, he secretly loves the time they spend together.

“Smile big,” he says.

“Who’s going to see this,” you ask.

“Don’t worry. Only those on my private story will see this. You’re in good hands.”

Do you want to know who’s on his private story? The Phantom Troupe, The 10 Dons, and Zeno. Those people SHOULD NOT know who you are just yet.

Headcanon 7: His first date gifts are out of this world. Not only did he bring you flowers, he brought you a glass frame, expensive chocolate, and one of his crop-top shirts with his cologne on it.

“Why did you give me your shirt?”

“So you can dream of me everyday. Wear it to bed; you’ll be in heaven I guarantee it.”

Headcanon 8: Dress to impress. Mr. Morrow is known to be a fashion icon, but his dress clothes will blow you out of the water. His grayish-white suit makes his skin tone pop and more vibrant while not underneath light. His cologne was so heavily applied that you could smell it a mile away. He purposefully wore his tie crooked so you could fix it.

“Do you mind?” He pointed to his wrinkled tie.

“Not at all.” He smiled cheekily at your fingers as they fixed the clump of cloth on his neck. He was tempted to pull your fingers to his lips but didn’t.

“I’ll save that for next time,” he thought.

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juminly · 3 years

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Invisible String (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

Prompt #4 and #77 by @missmorosis: “Marry me. Now.” and “I can’t say her name without smiling!”

Tags: Fluff + Mutual Pining. PS: Everything in Italic is spoken in French. –♥–

As the song “Sacré Charlemagne” rang loudly in the air, you were whisked into a jolly circle with the children in the little school that Napoleon and Isaac created by the fountain, which you always seemed to forget the name. You absolutely hated using the term “poor children” as everyone referred to them so you made an effort to learn and memorize each one of their names, even if it earned you a few devilish snickers when you stuttered over a few of their names, fumbling through your misconstructed sentences.

Compared to the children, your grammar and vocabulary was absolutely atrocious and it seemed like the infamous Monsieur de Wahaha found way too much pleasure in it, you could see him biting his bottom lip, muffling his chuckle yet his shoulders gave him away before the rambunctious sound escaped him, racking through his entire body. The few swats that Napoleon had to suffer from you did not deter him from losing himself into a fit of laughter. Your expressions never failed to amuse him, his heart feeling lighter than it had ever been in his chest and the adorable pout on your lips that tempted a little too much.

Just to press his lips against yours, Napoleon would always think. Only for a moment, that’s all he wished for. To simply hold you in his arms, engulf you in his warm embrace, where you would be safe and… loved. Feel your soft plush lips and watch as your face turns to a bright shade of red that roses would envy. His thoughts always found a way to drift to you. The petite nunuche with a kind heart, a bright mind and sass that could rival Mozart’s snark.

While you attempted to decipher the words that you were singing, your botched pronunciation did not help much though, the children jumping around, pulling you forcefully into the merry atmosphere that you had absolutely no qualms to join. Fingers that were even smaller than yours wrapped tightly around your palms, squeezed them as tightly as you felt your heart clench in your chest. Even when you were so far from the place you truly called home, with Napoleon, with these children, you found another meaning to the word. How was it that even when you were in the middle of dancing and having fun, your mind was still flooded with thoughts of him? Finding absolutely any hook just to keep him in your mind, clinging to you with no chance for you to escape from them. Even if you wanted to. Was it because he was near? Was it because you felt his eyes on you? Without even looking, you could feel the intensity of his piercing gaze, thoughtful yet kind, that made your body go through a plentiful of sensations that were too many to count on your fingers. Napoleon didn’t realize that he had paused his lesson, his eyes trained on you, seeing you radiate happiness, the happiness that the little ones shared with you even when they lived in some of the most dire of circumstances. If there is anything that you have learned, it was that the smallest things that made a difference. It is the little things that truly mattered. That is a truth that the former Emperor himself has come to realize after being relieved from the responsibility of leading his country and has tasked himself in aiding those that would be the future of France. “Who taught you that song, Clement?” Napoleon called out to one of the boys that were in your circle, shaking his head incredulously and still laughing for a reason that you had still yet to uncover. You weren’t sure what Napoleon was necessarily asking but it was definitely about the song. That was the only word ‘chanson’ that you recognized in his sentence.

“All of you. Come here and form a circle. I think it’s about time that you all learn about what Charlemagne has truly done and why you should be grateful.” Chuckling to himself, he stood from the spot he was sitting in and walked towards you, leaning down so that you were both eye to eye. You didn’t know why every time he did that, it made your heart flutter, doing a bunch of those weird somersaults that kinda made you want to puke.. But not really, at the same time. Being around Napoleon made you feel a flurry of strange sensations. Thinking about him too. That was a fact. “You do realize that this song depicts how much children hold contempt for Charlemagne for inventing school? Whatever you were singing with them right now beats the whole purpose of what we are trying to do for them.” With an eyebrow cocked, Napoleon folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for a response from you yet the corner of his lips were clearly strained as he fought back a wide smile. “Wait…” You blinked at him in surprise, clearly unaware of the situation that you were put into due to the language barrier. “I… I promise I had no idea! That was definitely and totally not my intention! Oh my God…” It was a funny situation and you found yourself stuck between a state of slight panic and laughter, both emotions reflecting clearly on your visage. The last thing that you wanted was for Napoleon to be disappointed in you. You held him in such high regards, and he did so to you when it came to you, so you didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. A small laugh escaped him, his large hand reaching to ruffle your hair gently before tucking the stray strands away from your face and behind your ear. A gesture that was so simple yet that was done with so much love. Love that you were completely blind to. “This is why you’re my petite nunuche. Come sit and I’ll explain it all to you, princess.” The sly grin he gave you, one that was more like a wide smile, was much too irresistible, your own smile tracing across your blushing face. As he turned away from you and found his seat before everyone, you noticed something. You knew that look in his eyes. It was one that you knew very well, the passion brimming in them, the heart he put into teaching these childrens and sharing with them everything that he had to give. Nothing was ever too much to ask for with Napoleon. God… you couldn’t stop staring at him and you still hadn’t realized why, assuming it was just because he was a born charismatic leader who was now capturing everyone’s attention as he began a history lesson about the medieval emperor Charlemagne and all he had done for France and for the world. Whenever any discussion happened between you, he always leaned down and looked straight into your eyes, especially since you were quite shorter than him. Even when you stood next to one another, he still did the same. Not only with you but with the kids as well, crouching down so that he was on the same level as them, never making anyone feel as though they were inferior. Never looking down on anyone. He spoke to all, treated all, as his equals. No matter who they were. Your daydreams and musings aside, you tried to focus on Isaac’s voice as he spoke in your ear, recounting to you in English all of the stories that Napoleon was painting before all of your eyes. His mind being a wealth of historical knowledge, he ensnared you with his storytelling, even when you had absolutely no idea what he was saying, needing the help of your dear friend, Isaac Newton, to explain it all to you.

“I have a question, Napoleone!” One of the kids, Patrick, raised his hand excitedly and was basically hopping on his cute little butt, curiosity seemingly eating at the young boy. When Leon gave him a curt nod, Patrick giggled and asked. “Why do you call big sister, nunuche?” “Well, there’s a very simple answer to that question. I call her nunuche because she has absolutely no clue that she has stolen my heart.” He declared with a warm smile, his deep voice reflecting the same. As the conversation took a turn, Isaac clicked his tongue, grumbling something that you didn’t catch under his breath and walked away from the big circle that you had formed in the middle of the small town square. Some of the kids were giggling and others were making gag noises. Whatever Napoleon had said really changed the mood. With your eyebrows furrowed, it was a bit bizarre to see the physicist’s face suddenly turn red. Was he that irritated from the story Napoleon was telling the kids about Charlemagne? Now that Isaac was gone, you were left with no one to translate the ongoing discussion for you. Well, upon Napoleon’s instruction, whenever he was addressing the children directly and couldn’t directly translate to you, Isaac would have to step in for him and help you understand the different French expressions and words, especially the most common ones. But… what were they saying now? You did hear the word Nunuche but they were definitely not talking about you. Were they, though? Still, you didn’t want to leave, even if you were completely lost and oblivious to what was going on. You knew that Napoleon would explain it all to you later. “Does that mean that big sister is a thief?” Jacques asked. “Non, non.” He chuckled, shaking his head and sighing out his next words. “It means that I love her with all my heart.” “Is it like how I love my dog?” The little man inquired again. “I love mushrooms!” The youngest of them all, Carmen, chimed in with her own declaration. “Haha, we can all love different things. Love comes in many ways and we all feel it differently.” “How does it feel for you then, Napoleone?” Lea, who was sitting right by his side, inquired considerately, seemingly scrutinizing every word the Frenchman said. He couldn’t help but smile widely, admiring the smart glint in her eyes, the curiosity in her was nothing but meaningful and quite in place. Eyes that reminded of his beloved. You. “Well…” He pondered for a few seconds, trying to find a simple way of putting his feelings into words. “I can’t say her name without smiling.” And just the thought of it did the same, in that very moment. “And sometimes, I think that I might just walk up to her and simply ask her. “Marry me. Now.”” He admitted, the corner of his eyes crinkling a tiny bit as he announced so. God, now you really wanted to know what they were talking about. To know the reason why Napoleon looked almost… giddy in that calm authoritative way of his. “Oh! Oh! That means you want to also have kids with her!” Jacques, ever the talkative one, stated confidently. “Haha, indeed. That is something I do wish to have with her.” As he turned to look at you, you could see his smile turn wistful, the way his eyes fell upon you held so much longing, a yearning for something that may not ever be fulfilled. “I promise, I’ll tell you about everything we just said.” He reassured you with that exact same smile, masking the fleeting sadness that overcame him by clearing his throat, demanding everyone’s attention and returning back to his storytelling. He would tell you all about that conversation he had with the kids. Maybe not on that day… but what he had to say was for later, or maybe never. Luckily for him, none of the children knew how to speak English or they would have blurted out the confession that Napoleon had yet to make. –♥– A/N: Consider this as a snippet from your matchup story with your Leon. I hope you enjoy this @delicateikemenmemes and yes, the title is a Taylor Swift song reference hehe 💜 And thank you @sweetlittlemouse for beta-ing my insecure ass. Tagging: @nafeary @kisara-16 Please feel free to leave some love in the comments or some feedback!💜 You can also check out my Masterlist !

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen series #ikevam fanfic #napoleon bonaparte

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7-wonders · 3 years

Text

Circling the Drain

Summary: It's a race against time...wait, why do people say that? It's not a race against some outside force, it's a race against a crazed back-from-the-dead mafioso with a vengeance.

Word Count: 3454

A/N: I tried something a little different for this chapter in terms of formatting, mainly because there was so much I wanted to fit in different POVS. Uhhhhh let me know your thoughts and like, comments and reblogs make my world go round. ALSO that second gif is exactly how I imagine a certain scene (you'll know it when you read it).

Warnings: Very torture heavy chapter. Blood, torture methods, guns, knives, kidnappings, talk of death. You should probably go pet some puppies or kittens after you read this.

Duncan

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed since Duncan was last outside of this small concrete room. There’s no windows to let light in, no clocks to denote the hour, and no sort of schedule that he can catch on to. Although, even if there were a schedule, he would be too delirious from sleep deprivation to realize that there was one. The only thing that Duncan can count on is the unending torture at the hands of his uncle.

All of the crisis training in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the physical and mental torture that he’s been put through. Though he doesn’t know it, it’s been almost seventy-two hours of this absolute hell, of Bill beating him black and blue, taunting him, slowly ripping out fingernails one by one (somehow, he still has six, though one of the six is just barely hanging on), refusing to let him sleep, and tasing him back to consciousness whenever he tries to close his eyes. This most recent time, the throbbing of his head had begged him enough to where he finally closed his eyes, only to be jolted up with a rush of electricity running through his body and seizing his muscles.

“You still think you’re getting out of it that easy, huh? That you can fall asleep and bide your time until you’re ‘rescued?’” Bill chuckles. “No, it’s not that easy.”

“Just kill me already, if that’s what you’re planning on,” Duncan says through clenched teeth, glaring up at Bill through the one eye that’s not completely swollen shut.

“Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” His obviously-fake concern would enough to make bile rise in Duncan’s throat, if he had actually had anything left in his stomach.

“You want me to beg for it, don’t you?”

“I guess I underestimated you. Turns out you do have some sort of critical thinking skills.”

Duncan defiantly turns his head, refusing to give Bill what he wants. Realizing this, Bill begins to walk towards the door. As he does, going to flick off the single light bulb in this place, Duncan’s chest tightens in anticipation of the claustrophobia he’ll surely begin to feel (most likely a side-effect of what he’s gone through, considering he’s never been scared of dark spaces before) and he scrambles to stall him. “So why are you keeping me alive?”

Bill stops for a moment before slowly turning around. “I already told you.”

“No, I know that you want revenge. But what’s your plan? Why waste your time? Surely you’ll at least give me the honor of knowing what I’m dying for?”

His jaw clenches, not pleased with that last question, but he doesn’t hit Duncan. Yet. “I’m taking back what’s mine, and then some.”

“And you think Mom’s going to be okay with that?”

“Your poor mother is going to be more than okay with that when she finds out that the Coven killed her only child.”

Slowly, it dawns on Duncan. “You’re the one that’s been killing people in the Coven’s style and leaving them in our territory?”

“Of course I am!” Bill holds his arms out as if to say ‘tah-dah!’ “Cordelia Goode would never be so bold as to do that! But after I kill you, drain you of your blood, cut your tongue out, dump you in the Potomac, and reappear into society, people won’t care about that little fact. Especially after I reveal that it was the Coven that prompted me to fake my own death and go into hiding for years.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“About a year before you stabbed me, when I realized that you were far too…” he grits his teeth, “charismatic to not end up with the family business eventually. That’s why I always made sure that the police and paramedics were well-paid, just in case the day ever came that I needed them to lie on my behalf.”

“You have it all planned then, so why not just do it and kill me now?”

“Well, there are a couple of minor issues I still need to work out.” Bill glances at Duncan slyly. “Such as what to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

In a flash, Duncan sees red. He lunges, forgetting the fact that he’s chained to the radiator and can only go so far until his ankle is jerked violently and he falls back to the ground. “You leave her alone, she’s done nothing wrong!”

“You’re right, she hasn’t, but (Y/N) knows too much.”

Duncan’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Bill (predictably) knows more than he should.

“I’m thinking a suicide? It’s very believable, what with the grieving girlfriend and all.” Bill steps forward and, ever so slowly, places his foot on one of Duncan’s hands. “Maybe she slits her wrists in the bath? It’s very easy to overpower someone when they’re vulnerable. Or perhaps she overdoses? That’s not my preferred method, though, far too much room for someone to survive an overdose. Tell me, Duncan, how would you prefer that she die?” With each possible method, Bill continues to lay more pressure on Duncan’s hand until Duncan is moaning in pain.

“Don’t...hurt her,” Duncan pants.

Bill finally removes his foot, giving Duncan a moment to breathe before he stomps on his hand, digging the toe of his shoe in until Duncan is screaming and Bill is sure his hand is broken. “I think she’ll jump into the Potomac with a weight tied around her ankle. The poeticism--her drowning in the same river that your body will be found in--is something that’s just too good to pass up.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you again and make sure that it sticks this time.” Tears are streaming down Duncan’s face, though whether that’s from the physical or emotional agony he’s in, he can’t be sure.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bill smiles, walking to the light switch and flicking it off. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then our final act can finally begin.”

This time, Duncan doesn’t stop him before he leaves, barely letting the door close before his willpower crumbles and he begins to sob. Cradling his injured hand, he has to force himself to look at the now-mangled fingers. He gasps, attempting to straighten them out, but they refuse to even twitch in response. It’s now that Duncan realizes that the true torture is waiting. His mind and body shattered, he now has to be at the mercy of Bill Shepherd before he can finally die. He’s never wished for death before, but now, he feels a pang in his heart for every one of his victims that have had to wait, broken and bruised, for Duncan to kill them.

You

“Does this location have any significance to you?” Cordelia asks Annette, pointing to an address hastily written down on a scrap of paper. The address corresponds to a building, fairly nondescript, but obviously holding some sort of significance.

“No, it doesn’t.” Annette shakes her head.

“That’s because this is the location of the first school that I opened here in D.C. Bastard’s really going all in on trying to frame me for everything he’s done.”

(Y/N), who had previously been dozing off on Langdon’s lap (Langdon had already made her swear not to tell anybody or else he would kill her in her dreams like Freddy Kreuger), sits straight up at this moment. “What makes you think he’s there?” she asks.

“This car.” Cordelia pulls another paper out from the folder she had brought with her, this one a picture of a Mercedes E-Class. “It’s been back and forth from Umbra to the old school numerous times in the past two days. License plates are registered back to Umbra.”

“So it’s definitely Bill, then.”

“I’m not typically a betting woman, but I would put money on this. Surveillance indicates that this car has been parked in front of the Goode Academy for six straight hours now.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know much about hostage situations, but she has to assume that Bill being where Duncan is held captive for an extended amount of time means nothing good.

“We need to move now, then,” Annette says. There’s no question behind her voice; she’s going to get her son.

“Yes. Your team?”

“Myself, Langdon, and (Y/N).”

Cordelia glances warily at (Y/N). “Do you have combat experience?”

“Duncan trained me to fight, and also did some weapons training with me,” (Y/N) says.

“That’s good enough.” (Y/N) tries not to be offended. “I have myself, Madison, Misty, and Mallory.”

“We’re going?” Mallory, a brunette wearing a gold headband, says.

“I need my best girls, and you three have proven yourselves.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Annette grabs a key from around her neck and unlocks what you thought to be a closet door, opening it to reveal a weapons cache large enough to rival a small government’s. “Stock up.”

“Which gun are you most comfortable with?” Langdon asks (Y/N), the two standing side-by-side after everybody else has had their turn.

“Uh, I don’t really know the names. It’s a handgun, and it’s black.”

“Probably a Springfield, then.” Langdon hands (Y/N) a gun that looks similar to ones that she’s handled before. “It’s already loaded.”

“Thanks.” She glances at Langdon after holstering her own weapon, watching as he selects numerous guns of different sizes. “What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be.”

“But you heard what Cordelia said. Bill’s been there for six straight hours now. He could have--”

“You’re right, he could have,” Langdon interrupts. “But we can’t go in there assuming that the worst outcome has come true. We have to have hope. If nothing else, there’s always hope.”

“I have hope.”

“Good, because I do, too.” Langdon grabs a knife from the weapons closet, twirling the tip of the blade on his index finger. “Now let’s go get Duncan back.”

Duncan

Bill stands before Duncan, twirling the tip of a knife on his index finger. “I’ve held onto this for six years now. Do you recognize it?”

Of course Duncan recognizes the knife that he stabbed his uncle with. In his dreams, he can still feel the cool leather handle gripped tightly in his palm.

“It’s something of a treasure to me, although it certainly didn’t seem like it at first. I’ve come to recognize the significance of holding the thing that almost killed me, and I like to keep it as a reminder.” Bill holds the knife out to Duncan, knowing he’s too weak to fight him for it. “See that on the blade? Why don’t you read it for me?”

Cursive lettering is engraved on the blade, though it was not there when the knife had been in Duncan’s possession. “Memento mori,” Duncan mutters, trying to remember his Latin lessons from high school.

“It was an extremely popular phrase during the medieval period, specifically when it came to funerals. ‘Remember you must die.’ It’s a warning, a reminder. That’s what this knife has become to me, a reminder of the inevitability of death. It also reminds me that I’ve survived death before, and I’ll surely survive it again.”

“Quite the sense of humor,” Duncan remarks dryly.

Bill shrugs, bending down to Duncan’s level. “A little gauche, perhaps, but I enjoy the significance of the phrase.”

Duncan’s about to ask him what the point of this is when Bill shows him by shoving the knife into his abdomen. Duncan grunts in pain, gritting his teeth and glaring at him. “Of course you’re going to stab me just like I stabbed you.”

“Do you know how I managed to survive?” Bill asks.

“I’ve tried not to think about it much.”

“I survived,” Bill continues, “because you were too stupid to realize that you needed to pull the knife out. What do all of the medical professionals say when training civilians on dealing with stabbings? ‘Don’t remove the weapon.’ That’s the only thing keeping them from bleeding out, and it’s what kept me from bleeding out.”

“I had assumed I severed your abdominal aorta, what with all the blood.”

“Exactly, ‘assumed.’” Bill digs the knife around to watch the way that Duncan tries not to scream before pulling it out and watching as blood begins to pour out of the wound. For every beat of Duncan’s frantic heart, trying to pump blood to the source of the injury in an attempt to clot it, more blood pulses out. “Never assume things, my boy.”

Though his head is starting to spin, Duncan finds just enough rage to spit at Bill. “Go to hell.”

“From the looks of it, you’ll be there long before me,” he says almost gleefully before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the thigh. This time, Duncan openly screams. “Just wanted to make sure you actually die, if the stabbing wasn’t enough.” Bill’s extremely nonchalant, as if he’s discussing the nuances of the Nationals rather than talking about murder.

Bill grabs a key and unlocks the chain from around Duncan’s leg, knowing that he won’t have the strength to escape. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

“Fuck you,” Duncan responds, but Bill’s already gone.

Duncan moans in pain as he stares at his wounds, feeling the stickiness of blood beginning to pool under him. Lifting a shaky hand, he presses it to his abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. As he swallows deeply, realizing that he very likely is going to die shortly, he thinks about a number of things, mainly regrets.

He wishes that he had realized earlier that his mom was just as much Bill’s victim as he was.

He wishes that he appreciated Michael more for the brother he had been to him.

He wishes that he had told (Y/N) that he loved her more often.

But most especially, Duncan wishes that he had just put a bullet in Bill’s head that night instead of stabbing him. Then, he wouldn’t be feeling this intense cold begin to settle in his bones as he’s forced to slowly die on the concrete floor of a basement. Facing the Grim Reaper head-on is not nearly as dramatic as he thought it would be.

You

Watching the Coven, Langdon, and Annette taking out the defectors is not nearly as dramatic as (Y/N) thought it would be. Wisely, they had requested that she stay behind until the perimeter was secured. It’s much quieter, and a lot less bloody; as it turns out, members of organized crime do have consciences, and chose to subdue those not directly a threat. After Langdon finishes tying those who had remained loyal to Bill together, Cordelia motions for (Y/N) to follow the group into the old school.

The proud sign that once declared this building the Goode Academy now lies in the dirt of the overgrown lawn. The doors are open, solely because the rusted hinges make it impossible for them to remain closed against a gentle breeze. The further that they make it inside, the more frantic (Y/N) is. She knows that they’re close to Duncan, she just doesn’t know what state they’ll find Duncan in. Before they can make it too far with Cordelia as their guide, Bill appears. Instead of holding a machine gun, which is kind of what (Y/N) had expected, he has a concerned look on his face.

“Annette, thank god you’re here! I know this must be confusing to you, but when I heard that Duncan was missing, I knew that I needed to save him from the bitches that had sent me into hiding years ago.”

Confusion blankets (Y/N)’s mind as she tries to figure out what’s going on, but Annette doesn’t feel the same. “Cut the shit, Bill. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Bill laughs. “You’re going to let Cordelia Goode manipulate you into believing her, after she tried to kill me?”

“You’re an idiot. You think I don’t smell the blood in the air?” Annette laughs viciously, a verbal slap in the face. “Where’s my son?”

Like a switch was flipped, the worry on Bill’s face falls into contempt. “You’ve always been too emotional for your own good, Annette.”

“‘Family over everything,’” Annette quotes. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

“That died the day that that--that mistake came back from boarding school and decided that our business, the empire we built from the ground up, was his birthright.”

“You never were good at sharing, were you?”

The siblings stare at each other for a moment before Bill sighs. “You could have just been complicit, but no. Guess I’ll have to think on the fly, then.” He pulls out a gun and cocks the hammer back.

Before he can fire, Madison and Mallory appear from behind him, having snuck into the back. Madison knocks the gun out of his hand, the weapon firing into the ceiling, as Mallory socks him in the face and drives him to his knees. Both women force his hands behind him, holding him still as Cordelia walks up to him.

“The door to the basement is in the kitchen, hidden behind the left wall of the pantry,” Cordelia says to the group.

(Y/N)’s off, moving as fast as she can while maneuvering through the unfamiliar house. “Wait, you can’t do this. Annette, you aren’t really going to let the Coven, of all people, do this to me?” Bill pleads.

“I can actually, and I will. After all,” Annette turns to Cordelia, “we have a deal.”

In the kitchen, (Y/N) throws open the pantry door, pushing and shoving and pulling at the left wall before it finally opens to reveal a set of stairs.

“Girls?” Annette calls just before she reaches the door. “Make it painful.”

(Y/N) runs down the stairs, hands scrambling along the wall until she comes across a light switch. Flicking it on, her eyes look around the room until she sees a lifeless figure on the floor that’s surrounded by a pool of blood. A cry is ripped from her chest as she falls to her knees beside Duncan, hands hovering above him as she tries to figure out what to do first.

He’s pale, scarily so, and he’s breathing so shallowly that she can’t tell he’s breathing at first. Somehow, with all the blood, he’s still breathing. All (Y/N) can focus on is the fact that he’s still alive (later, she’ll wonder how she didn’t even flinch at all of the injuries and the blood, oh, the blood) as she rips her shirt off and presses it firmly against the wound on his stomach, calling his name over and over again in increasing levels of desperation.

From behind her, she can hear Annette scream and yell for Langdon to call an ambulance. She can feel the presence of somebody next to her as they catalogue where Duncan’s hurt, but she can’t bring herself to look away from Duncan’s face. His perfect face, that she’s kissed over and over a thousand times and has taken immense pleasure in watching a blush rise to the surface. His perfect face that she’s now slapping to try and get him to at least show some sort of response.

“You don’t get to die like this,” she tells him, hoping that he’ll somehow manage to hear her. “You said that you didn’t want to be the reason I suffered, but look at you now, making me suffer. Don’t keep me suffering like this!”

Slowly, and just barely, his eyes crack open just enough that (Y/N) can see a hint of blue. His lips move, saying something without audible sound, and she brings her head down to his to try and catch what he’s saying.

“An angel.” She finally makes out what his reverent whisper is over the wail of the incoming ambulances, and laughs brokenly as her head falls onto his chest in relief.

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