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djmorn · 3 days

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The Infernal Bathhouse

or: Wing Care Part 3

word count: 4,825

rating: mature

Raphael x Warlock!Reader (GN)

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my good friend and amazingly talented writer @adevilyoudo. Writing can be a lonesome hobby and it is truly wonderful to have someone along for the ride, talking about the craft, supporting each other, and throwing ideas around, be they serious or humorous. Thanks for all your help and friendship, I hope you enjoy this.

And with that ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Stink Spirit Raphael.

It was a long run up the staircase which led to the colossal building. Upon ascending the final steps you made a halt – first and foremost to catch your breath then take a moment and marvel at the incredible architectural sight towering before you: Tall pillars of marble fronted the infernal bathhouse, the stone untouched by any mark of the Blood War, and yet it still cast forth an aura of ancient history. You read the inscription above the entrance. The Infernal translated to ‘Ataxia Averna’. High up on top of the building a blood-red banner waved in the wind, proudly displaying the same words in golden lettering. Why would Raphael send you here?

His letter had been even more obscure than the last one. Apparently you were to meet your next contract in this place which you thought an odd location to confront one of his debtors to say the least, and with such little information given to boot. At least Raphael had been gracious enough to mention that the bathhouse’s kindly proprietor would point you in the right direction. So all there was left to do was simply have faith in your patron supplying this stranger with further – hopefully helpful details… Fantastic.

You let out a sigh. Trusting Raphael to not be unnecessarily dramatic and mysterious? This assignment was off to a good start.

Approaching the entrance you noticed it was neither guarded nor protected by some kind of magic keeping any possible unwanted guests at bay. How strange.

With faith in your knowledge of warding spells and perhaps a dangerous dose of curiosity, you stepped inside the infernal establishment and were immediately greeted by an overwhelming assault to the senses: Steam clouded the grand hall making your eyes grow watery, relentlessly the mist rose from pools built in the crimson marble floor. These baths came in every shape and size with an especially enormous one at the center, and each of them occupied by various kinds of fiends. You saw demons and devils, orthons, hags and abishais, all lounging in the waters, seeming oddly at peace with one another. Some of them treated themselves to exotic fruits on plates of gold, carried about the hall by faithful lemures. And all about was that pungent smell of sulphur, perverted by scented oils impossible to make out in detail amidst this madness. But even in your astonishment at this bizarre scene you could not help but wonder at this peculiar display of truce, and in Avernus at that!

Your eyes wandered from the pillars high up to the ceiling. Here the marble lightened, giving room to a gorgeous painting adorning its stone. Yes, gorgeous it was. Gorgeous and gruesome. In the finest detail the artist had depicted a battle scene of the Blood War, still raging everywhere but here apparently. Squinting your eyes you could make out the many intricacies of this mirror to the scene below it, frozen in time and oil: Its protagonists wallowed in pools of blood, some of them screaming, suffering a horrible death, others basked in the glory of their victims’ demise and the carnage. Imps circled the sky like vultures. You raised a brow as you surveyed the scene. You had to admit that the artist had a funny sense of humour, and for a moment you wondered what fate might have befallen them.

To your left someone cleared their throat and drew you out of your musings and your attention towards the sound’s source. Behind a long desk sat a succubus, as beautiful as only sin could be and blessed with that tempting air of authority akin to the most convincing players spawned in the Nine. Above her loomed a comically large window, opened to let the steam escape, granting her lobby at least some kind of clear view. Flanking the desk stood two nupperibos which were armed with fans to help guide the mist away from their mistress, and above three nasty looking imps fluttered about, their cruel glowing eyes seemingly assessing the newcomer. They started pointing and snickering.

As soon as the succubus noticed your eyes on her she shot you a wink, with one clawed forefinger beckoning you to approach. You followed her bid without hesitation.

‘My, my, what do we have here?’ she chirped as you came closer. ‘It’s not everyday we get a visit from a mortal to this humble establishment.’

‘Nothing humble about it,’ you gave back confidently, putting on the charm. ‘It is a shame I am here on business.’

Your eyes went to a sign on the desk. The Infernal spelled out the name ‘Circe’, identifying the she-devil before you. Circe eyed you up and down.

‘You must be his warlock.’

She smiled as you introduced yourself, taking a drag from the long, thin pipe made of gold held in her right hand. The smoke’s smell seemed to pierce the steam-filled air.

‘Then Raphael told you. That’s a relief at least.’

‘Hmm, yes,’ Circe mused. ‘He likes his cryptic little antics, my favourite cambion.’ A chuckle escaped her lips and turned to laughter like embers become flame under a dragon’s maw. The imps above joined in their mistress’s glee, likely unaware of the joke, posturing serving nothing but approval. Circe’s laughter ceased at once and she shot them a stern look.

‘Shut up,’ she barked and the tiny fiends put their hands over their mouths and scattered behind her obediently. Circe directed her attention back to you. ‘Never mind the imps, nor any other fiend in this place for that matter. You are my guest of honour and no harm shall befall Raphael’s darling warlock.’ Another roguish wink.

‘Right,’ you said, not quite sure what to make of the shrewd temptress. ‘Thank you. I was instructed to ask you for further details concerning my target.’

She huffed and puffed more smoke. ‘You warlocks are all the same: All business, no fun. So who of my guests is it then? Which loyal, paying customer am I to loose to that perfumed trickster?’

‘Um…’ You shifted your legs about, suddenly horribly embarrassed about knowing so little of your target, and avoiding eye contact with Circe at all cost your gaze wandered off to the side, locking onto that of the nupperibo. Staring into its beady, empty eyes you wondered if yours currently reflected the same ignorance.

Then Circe’s laughter pulled you out of your dissociation. ‘Oh, come on, I’m only messing with you,’ she said, waving off the smoke directly into an imp’s face. The succubus ignored its coughing. ‘Poor thing, I know your patron’s been vague with you. You will find your target in a private room on the first floor, the one at the very end. Inside is a supreme balcony looking down the great hall which you can survey from an exquisite bath, yours to enjoy once your work’s done. On the house, sweetheart, and don’t you worry…’ She leaned in closer, the flames dancing in her eyes seemingly burning right into your soul. ‘No devil will disturb you up there. Around here we still value the meaning of the word “privacy”.’

And with that Circe directed you towards the staircase.

You took your time to look at the bathhouse’s pools and the hell-folk that were its guests. Some of them were engaged in eager chatter while indulging in the heat of the water, going over deals and contracts made in the mortal realm.

‘Now, that ambitious princess of yours is a fool to have agreed to this,’ you overheard a massive orthon say to a red devil seated next to him.

‘Be that as it may,’ the other gave back. ‘Her soul will make a most delicious meal one way or the other.’

‘Wanna bet a soul coin on it?’

‘Make it three.’

As they laughed your attention drifted to another pair. These two had placed a game of lanceboard on the bank between them, pondering their moves while a party of onlookers drifted around, enjoying this extra bit of entertainment adding to their indulgence. Some of them began to whisper to each other as you walked by. Hells, never in your whole life would you have imagined to one day walk around a steaming bathhouse filled with devils, quietly judging you, but all of them surprisingly peaceful and blissfully naked.

Three hags were taking a break from wallowing in the pools and – towels swung around their dripping bodies – currently enthralled with a peculiar game, its dice a shape which you had never seen before. You halted, taking a closer look.

‘A twenty, ha!’ one of them bellowed while her playmates regarded the boastful winner with grim faces. ‘Suck it, ye cunts.’

‘I vote to never invite you to play with us ever again. Maybe we should start looking for a replacement.’

‘Hey, how about this one?’

You froze up as the hook-nosed hag pointed her finger at you.

‘Yes, they look a righteous little no-cheat, and if they loose we’ll feast on their marrow, ha ha ha. What do you say to that, dearie?’

‘I am flattered,’ you said. ‘Afraid I have no time though. Got an invitation up there,’ and you gestured towards the staircase.

‘Ohoho, proper high and mighty thing, aren’t we, tiny, tasty warlock? Must belong to quite the powerful fiend, hmm?’

‘Yes,’ the twenty-dice hag agreed. ‘Well, petal, tell us: Who is it then?’

‘Raphael the cambion.’

‘Ugh.’ The hook-nosed hag let out a snarky snort, waving her hand dismissively, her interest in your companionship or your marrow gone up in cold smoke. ‘Well, you go on and be a good little fuck then.’

‘Aye, choose a better patron in the next life, sweetie.’

‘Hush now. Can’t let you two ruin my winning streak.’

Without another word you left the group to their game, thinking you quite agreed with twenty-dice hag: What a bunch of horrible, old cunts.

Finally you made your way up the staircase Circe had directed you towards. Its banisters were decorated with ornamental sculptures: Imps leering at you like gargoyles and busts of important looking devils silently making an assessment of you through their blind alabaster eyes. Reaching the first floor you saw just how strong the bathhouse was built. The stone could easily host even more pools up here although they were quite smaller than the ones below, more private, resulting in a less crowded and more tranquil experience.

Not wanting to waste any time here too you approached the room at the end of the hallway, its doors closed shut. This must be the suite! Here you were, quite a way off from any curious onlookers, ideal conditions to not disrupt the peace.

Softly you twisted the knob, peeking inside you saw nobody, and with quiet steps you entered, closing the door behind you. There was that luxurious bath Circe had described all right, and indeed it reached out over the balcony, offering a soothing time within the interior of the private suite as well as a nice view over the crowd below; it could make one feel like royalty. The floor was littered with rose petals.

But by the Nine, where was your target?

A noise came from the wall to your left, there was another door, and its knob was turning. Shit. You reached for your weapon, preparing your mind for a fight and channeling your power for an Eldritch Blast, and from out the room stepped…

‘Raphael?’

Caught totally off-guard you sheathed your weapon back in its place, face scrunched up in confusion, then you noticed the blood, and its smell.

From his horns to the tip of his boots the crimson cambion was covered in even more red. Your bewilderment turned to trouble.

‘Raphael, what happened?’

But the devil’s face showed only mild amusement. ‘Nothing to worry about, little mouse,’ he said, waving off your concerns lazily, the movement of his hand sending sprinkles of blood to the floor. ‘I felt it was about time I took my… sweet revenge on that fiend I had quarreled with earlier. You remember?’

‘The one who damaged your wings?’

Demonstratively Raphael shook said wings, sending more droplets of gore onto the rich marble. ‘The very one,’ he said, a sardonic sneer dancing over his lips.

You found it hard to take your eyes from this unexpected scene. ‘Well, um, that’s good to hear.’ What exactly does one say to that? ‘I’m afraid I just don’t quite understand why we are here now.’

Raphael chuckled. ‘Oh, you have to forgive the misleading letter. It was such short notice and therefore I felt gracious enough to treat you to something nice and perhaps more extravagant this time around.’ He gestured about the room. ‘How do you like the bathhouse? I expect Circe has treated you as a very welcome and special guest like I asked her to?’

‘She did… but the meaning behind all of this still escapes me. What was all of that about my target?’

‘My dear, don’t tell me you really can’t see it. I am your target,’ and Raphael opened his arms wide like a magician revealing his grand trick, flashing a satisfied smirk at you. At your silence and the perplexed look on your face he continued, the seriousness back in his voice and expression. ‘Seeing as my good humour seems utterly wasted on you I shall explain plainly: I am covered in blood and gore right now, as you – with any luck – may have noticed, and am in dire need of a bath. Hence, the locale. And since you have proven yourself o so pleasantly capable of indulging me with your deft little hands, I thought to call upon you. Hence, the letter.’

His words were soft as silk but underneath that honeyed veil you sensed a growing tension rise. Was he self-conscious about asking this of you? So instead of giving out a simple ‘Oh?’ not to mention a possible remark about the way he reeked, you instead chose to free him from the awkwardness all too known to you. After all, Raphael appeared to have indeed thought the bathhouse to be a nice treat for you – in his world, one made up of a… curious way of looking at its inhabitants and his judgement over them, for better or worse. All the more reason to present yourself most grateful. ‘Well, I am flattered, Raphael, really. Of course I will fulfill my duty with the utmost dedication.’ Adding to your previous trail of thought: You found yourself not lying, actually looking forward to once again put your hands on your master, drawing the most delicious sounds from him. And if you had to wash up some blood for that sweet sensation then so be it!

The devil could sense the truth in your words and smiled at you, today’s premiere genuine one. ‘Excellent! I would have expected nothing less from my favourite protégé.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Never mind the clothes.’

And with a snap of his fingers your patron stood in front of you just as bare as the rest of the bathhouse’s guests.

You could not stop your eyes from widening. Of course you were in a place that rather called for the stripping of one’s attire but no circumstance in the world could have prepared you for Raphael suddenly standing naked before you. He seemed so nonchalant about it too, you could practically feel the room’s aura filling with pride coming from the devil from whom you could not avert your gaze even if decency and respect before your master would demand it. You had not considered the possibility of Raphael being just as susceptible to this place of debauchery as everyone else. But my, what a sight he was!

Back in the boudoir you had already witnessed the man’s broad shoulders, his inviting chest sprouting a fluff of coarse hair, and fine scales covering his cambion form. You had marveled at your master’s beauty before and now – at last – you could see all of him, barely noticing the blood anymore. Those thick thighs on him, not to mention that member, as veiny and ribbed like the rest of him, as wide as your biceps and as long as your forearm, if you had to make a quick assessment that is. And then you could not help but wonder what it would feel like…

Suddenly you became very aware of Raphael’s glowing eyes on you. The smug look on his face brought even more colour to your face and finally you averted your gaze politely.

‘Your appraisal is noted and appreciated,’ he said and turned to approach the bath. Stepping inside he let out a satisfied sigh as he let himself sink deeper into the water, and more steam rose from the pool. You still stood there, frozen in place, not quite knowing how to proceed.

‘Well,’ Raphael continued while taking inventory of the small vials on the bank beside him. ‘What kind of oils do you prefer? To enhance this experience,’ he added, sending you a questioning look and tilting his head.

You really had no idea about the meaning behind these scented oils, nor what each of their effects may be, so you chose to just settle for something that you thought smelt nice: ‘Jasmine, I guess. Do they have that?’

Raphael’s smile turned to a conspiratorial smirk and immediately you felt like you had made a risqué choice, but then again – the devil was obviously in a teasing mood ever since shedding his clothes. Now he rummaged through the vials again until: ‘Ah, here it is – jasmine. Delightful choice, a real classic for two people wanting to spend some quality time with one another.’ With fervour he opened the vial and poured its contents into the water.

Hells, what had you agreed to?

‘Now then, come a little closer. No need to be so shy, we have this whole room to ourselves. I have made arrangements that nobody is to disturb us up here.’

Following his beckoning you noticed the oil’s scent rapidly filling the room and you could not help but deeply inhale the intoxicating aroma. You fidgeted your hands. Oddly enough, finally laying your hands on Raphael could actually help calm yourself down at last. Yes. Touching him. Letting your fingers glide over his strong, strong shoulders… Stop it! No lusting over your master now. You were dead sure the devil could sense your feelings about this whole situation, about him. O, to be blessed with that same kind of magic he seemed to possess.

Dutifully you knelt down on the bank, right behind him, getting ready to spoil him with your massaging once more.

‘What are you doing up there?’ Raphael interrupted you.

‘How do you mean?’ You were genuinely perplexed by his sudden change of mind. Did he not want you to bathe him after all?

The devil explained: ‘I could have any common slave genuflect behind me and do their duty without any trace of satisfaction on their part if I wanted to.’ He waved his hand in invitation. ‘Join me. The water is blissfully warm.’

Was he being serious? You could not possibly strip naked in front of your boss, your master, a devil! – albeit a cambion but an extremely powerful one still – not to mention jump into a steaming pool with him, the smell of jasmine in the air only adding to your already absolutely inappropriate trail of thought. Surely he was just testing your sense of professionalism now, having breached it once before when you practically ogled his toned body and cock.

Raphael took notice of your hesitation, raising an eyebrow. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Forgive me, Master,’ you said. ‘Are you sure this is not a tad bit inappropriate?’

For a moment Raphael seemed to truly be taken aback by your words, turning sideways to look you directly in the eyes. ‘My dear, I had not meant to impose my company on you like that.’ He put his hand over his heart. ‘Trust me when I say, I only meant to offer you some indulgence in turn, in thanks for your continued services to me. After all, I did promise you to return the favour before, didn’t I?’

You threw up your hands in defense. ‘No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry, Raphael. I was talking about our relationship in general, you know, as business partners.’

‘Oh. So you fear for the professionalism in this matter?’

You nodded.

‘Well then,’ he said, clapping his hands together and letting out a sigh of relief. ‘That’s some weight off my chest.’ You could not believe your eyes and ears: Your words seemed to have really put Raphael back at ease. ‘Don’t you worry, my dear,’ the devil continued, and reached out to you with one clawed finger, gently but all too briefly brushing your chin. ‘This shall have no negative impact on our relationship as business partners. Indeed I believe it should have quite the opposite effect. What better way to bond and build trust in one another than bathing in the blood of a mutual enemy, hmm?’

A nervous chuckle erupted from your throat. ‘All right,’ you said, standing up, hesitantly adding: ‘But no peaking, yes?’

Raphael beamed at you and put his hands over his eyes playfully. ‘On my honour as a devil, I shan’t.’

You took a few steps away from the pool and started removing your shirt, then followed your trousers, and you could not stop thinking about how this scenario would unfold. Why did Raphael do all this? Had he indeed guessed your true feelings for him and wanted to manipulate you to further strengthen your loyalty towards him? But then why had he looked so utterly embarrassed at the thought he was pushing you to do something you might not want to?

Naked at last you turned to face the man who had conjured all this confusion within your mind, and you saw that Raphael was looking directly at you, arm resting on the bank.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I simply could not resist. And besides: We’re about to bathe together, little mouse. We’re bound to see each other – all of one another – at some point.’

Despite your indignation at his mischievousness you could not argue with that logic and approached the pool. Raphael’s eyes did not leave your form as you stepped into the water, and – oh my, was it warm!

‘Too hot for you?,’ asked the hunk of a devil, making room for you.

‘No,’ you said. ‘Just need a moment to adjust.’

‘That’s perfectly normal for a mortal like you.’ You made a mental note to wipe that smirk off his face along with the blood.

You sank into the pool, glad that the water reached up to your neck, covering your body at least somewhat. The depths of the pool offered another bank underwater, and you took seat, the overwhelming feel of the heat slowly wearing off. You could feel yourself relaxing.

‘Better?’

You nodded, feeling your eyelids lowering as the tension left your muscles, then you remembered you still had a devil to wash! Blinking, you quickly went to move behind him, and noticed a sponge lying on the bank, a bottle of soap next to it. You reached for the utilities and started prepping them for your next undertaking, dipping the soap-soaked sponge into the water and squeezing it gently before bringing it up to Raphael’s upper back.

Once you made contact with his skin the devil let out a soft sigh. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed this.’

You could feel yourself blushing once more, his words of appreciation never failing to make your insides flutter with excitement.

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this already.’ Because you sure as hell did! You did not even care that you could still smell the sweet stench of blood and guts on him. All was well as long as you had Raphael pliant under your touch, purring like a satisfied house-cat. Smiling, you decided to better not let him know you thought of him like that. Better to just have Raphael assume all you wanted from him was a bounce on his cock, rearranging your organs.

Sliding the sponge over his back, drawing affectionate circles around his neck, you moved to his right shoulder where the blood was especially sticky, rubbing a little harder there. That drew the most delicious groan from Raphael.

‘You are so good at this,’ he sighed. ‘Although I do prefer the touch of your skin…’

Without hesitation you removed one hand from the sponge and laid it onto his shoulder, caressing it with your thumb.

‘Such a good little mouse.’

Once more you went to work on Raphael’s back, neck, and wings, putting in just the right amount of cleaning and massaging, thoroughly enjoying the small sounds of pleasure coming from the relaxed devil. Then he made a move, stretching his long limbs and swimming a little further towards the balcony, putting both his arms onto the bank and resting his head on them. Pliantly you followed him, schooling yourself not to look at his ass too much.

Raphael surveyed the scene below, the hell-folk in the main hall totally unaware of the intimate scene currently conspiring on the first floor between a certain half-devil being a little too familiar with his warlock.

‘They all look down on me,’ he mused. ‘Some do it in secret of course, others… are less shy about their disdain.’ If by design or unintentionally his left wing twitched, maybe a reminder of his past fight when you had taken care of him for the first time.

As gently as you could muster you let your fingers graze over the soft membrane and the twitching calmed down. You moved to lean in closer to your master. ‘Well, for now it is you looking down on them, Raphael.’

Even with his face slightly averted you could make out the smile forming on his lips. ‘I got to meet some of them while I was downstairs,’ you continued. ‘Most seem rotten to the core anyway if you ask me. They’re not… They are nothing like you, Raphael.’

At that the cambion slowly turned around, sitting down on the bank below the water, and once more you barely believed your eyes when he spread out his arms invitingly. ‘Come here,’ he said, and you found yourself unable to deny him his command – no, his wish – to have you to hold to support him in his moment of vulnerability. You moved to seat yourself on top of his legs, these thick thighs, and almost shuddered when he put his arms around you with a gentleness you never would have expected from him.

‘O, a bastard fiend like me could not hope for more, having such a loyal warlock by my side. A sweet little thing who adores me.’ He tensed up once more, only slightly but noticeably. The look in his eyes was almost pleading. ‘Right?’

With courage in your heart you tried to ease his mind by bringing your hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. ‘Yes, Master.’

‘Raphael.’

‘In all the Nine no creature could make my name sound as sweet as you, love.’

Love. What an odd thing to call one’s employee. But you had no time to ponder the level of appropriateness of yet another of your master’s quirks as he drew you closer towards him, letting you rest on top of his chest while he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You stayed like that for a while, Raphael drawing circles over your back, tentatively mimicking your own past ministrations, with your nose in his chest hair and your hands peacefully resting in the water, never straying too far from the devil below you. It was an experience of true and utter tranquility, just as the bathhouse had advertised, and you started to regret thinking Raphael might have had some ulterior motive, coaxing you into the pool with him. Your words to him rang truer now that you realised he really wasn’t at all like those other devils and could not be farther from the picture those hags had tried to paint for you, that he was looking to use you for his own pleasure like a common whore. In this moment Raphael showed more of his mortal side to you than ever before: A man with his own set of doubts and insecurities, needing the affection and friendship of a loved one just like everybody else.

You placed a kiss on his chest. ‘Raphael?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You don’t need to write of some made-up target in your letters. I’m happy to do this for you any time you want.’

He said nothing to that, but being so close to him you could have sworn you felt his heart skip a beat.

#raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #my stuff #my writing

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lume-nescence · 2 years

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why do kazuha and i share so many things in common?? i used to collect maple leaves during my strolls when i was little, we like to write, we have a way with words, we enjoy nature, we’re very chill, we have the same beliefs, we’re just… the same person?

#☁️ lume speaks #genshin #genshin impact #kazuha kin #???#i #im in disbelief #i would say my kinlist is rather… difficult to analyze.#it’s from one direction to another left right and center #and yes im okay #im just #ever look at a fictional character and go: ‘we’re so alike’#yeah #that’s what i mean #is it normal to kin and simp for someone at the same time

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rebelfell · 16 days

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haven’t had any complaints yet

For @urhoneycombwitch, 1. { going } down on them in the backseat of a car and 17. { laughing } mid way through from this list of smut -ing prompts. 18+, MDNI 2k

cw: older eddie/older reader, semi-public, oral (m receiving), allusions to other sex acts, passing drug/alcohol references, and some good old goofy fluff

The bench seat in the center row of Eddie’s van sagged as you and he landed on it, the soft creak of ancient springs mixing with the sounds of your airy giggles and the smack of your lips meeting in feverish kisses. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing at any curve of yours he could find, his rings catching on your cardigan as he pushed it off your shoulders and it fell to the floor.

A devious kind of chuckle rumbled in his chest seeing your exposed neck and he latched onto it, groans and grunts of excitement making his lips vibrate against the patch of skin behind your ear. It made you gasp, gripping tight onto his biceps and shivering automatically in response.

Even you had to admit, it was fun seeing him so worked up.

After being together for as long as you had been, it was difficult sometimes not to worry about you eventually getting bored of one another, or your sex life taking a back seat (pun intended) to the minutiae of your day-to-day. But right now, with him looking at you with nothing but fire in those deep brown eyes of his, and pawing at you like an overeager bear digging into a picnic basket….

Well, you weren’t worried at all.

He’d even held off on drinking tonight, having only a few beers instead of the slew of cocktails and shots his friends had been offering. It made you arch a brow, smiling curiously as he waved off the glass of whiskey Steve bought for him.

And as Steve wandered away, heading in the direction of the pretty thing at the end of the bar he’d been making eyes at all night, Eddie leaned in close, his breath rippling down the nape of your neck as he whispered in your ear about much preferring to be present for your…present.

Of all the things he could have asked for on his birthday, getting head in the back of his old van was maybe the last thing you expected. You had a feeling his interest was steeped in nostalgia even though he had assured you he wasn’t exactly the pussy hound you assumed he was based on the handful of pictures you’d seen of a younger him, running around in shredded black jeans, chains dangling, climbing up on lunch tables, flashing flirty smiles at cheerleaders.

He’d admitted to you sheepishly more than a few times that the only action his old van saw back then was on more…ahem…solo missions.

So here you were, parked in the furthest corner of the Hideout’s gravel lot, necking like a couple of teenagers, fogging up the windows with your hot panting and ragged breaths.

Car sex—much like airplane bathroom sex or shower sex, or any one of those highly impractical acts that had garnered some sort of unfounded mythology—never held a lot of appeal for you.

Maybe when you were younger, and it was your only option, and you didn’t have to worry about back spasms or knee twinges or neck cricks.

But you were older now.

You had your own home—your own bed. You had the luxury of fucking when you wanted and being able to take a Tylenol and a bath afterward. Those fumbling, clumsy quickies in the backseat of a car were a last resort you no longer had to resort to.

Still, you couldn’t deny the excitement that licked up your spine as you kissed him in the front seat. Heart racing in your chest, eyes darting to the windshield to be sure no one was walking by.

Unlikely, given that last call had been over half an hour ago and Eddie’s van was the only car left in the lot. It was the thrill, though—the idea that at any moment someone could see, that had you nodding eagerly when Eddie’s lips broke from yours and he tipped his head toward the rear.

You pushed him back a little forcefully against the side of the van and started to kiss down his neck and over his t-shirt, faded and feather soft from decades of washes. Your hands ghosted over his pecks, almost able to feel his tattoos through the material, stopping briefly to flick the piercing on his nipple and elicit a moan that had him biting down on his bottom lip.

Willfully ignoring the creaks in your joints, you shifted down onto the floor and took your place between his spread knees, fingers nimbly tugging open his belt and fly and dragging his pants and boxers to his ankles. You ran your hands up his legs, fingers splayed wide dragging through the sparse hair on his thighs. They were thicker now, more meaty with muscle and fat. Those high-school jeans would have burst at the seams.

His breath hitched as your hands inched closer to his cock only for him to huff out a laugh as they glided right past it over his hips, purposefully skirting the hard on that bobbed in front of your face. He chuckled at your teasing smile, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a moan. Your hands slid up his abdomen, disappearing under his shirt to feel in the warmth of his skin and how his muscles quivered with need at your touch.

Shoulders rustling slightly, he shivered and you could feel his pale skin pimpling under your palms. At last, you brought them back down and began to brush your fingertips over his most private flesh. His length kicked up in response, chest heaving like he needed an inhaler.

At this point, you could probably pick his cock out of a line-up, but it never failed to make your eyes shine when you found yourself face to face with it. Every ridge, every vein, every groove having been engulfed by your hands or tongue or tits or pussy who knows how many times.

But the way he looks at you, it always feels like the first.

Firm hands wrapped around him, they began to move in a steady, even stroke. Your eyes locked onto his burnished brown ones and you brought his tip to your puckered lips, giving a kiss to his weeping slit. You toyed with him a little longer, smearing your lips over his head, lightly tonguing at that oh-so-sensitive spot on the underside of it that had his breath stuttering like he was an ill-fated heroine in some bodice ripper.

The salty brine of him, warm and familiar, covered your tongue as you slowly took him into the soft cavern of your wet mouth and began to suck.

“Christ,” he groaned in relief. “Feels so…so good.”

You bobbed a little faster, taking him in deeper with each pass, edging your way to his base. His hips quivered as he fought the urge to thrust them upwards, trying to restrain himself best he could. A slew of hmms and ah-ah-ahs tumbled past his lips as you clenched your throat, making a sound that was a near-perfect mimicry of you choking on his dick.

It was hardly something you needed to fake, having gagged on his thick length plenty of times in the past. He wasn’t quite deep enough to do so yet, but you knew how the sound got him off so it was a nice trick to have in your back pocket.

His reaction was immediate—veins in his hand standing out as he gripped at the sagging seat cushion, threatening to rip off a hunk of foam.

“Oh-ohh, fuck, baby. You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned as he threw his head back, reaching up to grasp the seatbelt behind him and grip it in his fist like he wished he was gripping your hair.

He yanked it down, pulling it between his teeth and biting down on it as he grunted out praise.

You felt your eyelids flutter closed, losing yourself in the rhythm you had set, the sweet sounds of Eddie unraveling. Your tongue slid faster, the flat of it stroking the velvety juncture where his shaft met his balls with each pass as his tip began to hit the back of your throat.

Your knees burned through your jeans, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Your whole body felt engulfed by flames, buzzing with the pride that you were making him feel this good. That you were the one he worshiped; the one he chose over and over, day after day, year after year—

Suddenly, you slowed, registering within a split-second that something was off. Because woven in with the wet sounds of you swallowing Eddie’s cock, your ears sifted out the strangled noise of Eddie actually choking.

Your eyes snapped to his face and nearly bugged out of their sockets seeing him clawing at his own neck, trying to free himself from the seatbelt he’d somehow gotten himself twisted up in. His cock flopped out of your mouth that had fallen open in shock, long strings of saliva stretching between your lips and his free hanging length.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck me!”

Not exactly the context he had imagined you screaming that out, but what are you gonna do?

You scrambled off your knees, shins banging on god knows what as you climbed on top of Eddie and batted his hands out of the way in order to free him yourself.

Your heart raced, it’s pounding in your chest only slowing when the redness that had begun to color his cheeks faded back into his signature shade of alabaster and his breathing returned to normal.

He panted as he sat up, still sputtering a little when your eyes met and the two of you did the only thing you could think to do in that moment.

You laughed.

Deep guffaws, breathless belly laughs rolling out of you even harder than that time you made pot brownies and watched cat videos in bed for three hours. You clutched at each other, your foreheads resting on shoulders for support as your chests shook and tears pricked at the corners of eyes.

“You see?” he tittered with a wry smirk, evidently unfazed by his near-death experience. “I told ya you were gonna kill me.”

He balked when you swatted at him, holding up his hands with a wry what did I say? kind of smile.

“But seriously,” he said, reaching out to brush his fingertips along the side of your face, tracing you from temple to jaw. “What a way to go.”

A hush fell over you at his tender touch. You tried to roll your eyes, but any annoyance with him was undermined by the melty smile that spread along your face. You traced the curve of his cheeks, still rounded from his wide grin, letting your finger dip into the deep well of one of his dimples.

More sap than a maple tree, this one.

“I do kind of get your whole choking thing now,” he added with a wily bounce of his brows.

“Oh my god—”

You raised your hand to deliver another swat, but smoothly hooked your fingers in the collar of his t-shirt instead to tug him forward into a kiss.

Noses smushing into cheeks, desperate to be closer than physically possible, lips sliding as you smiled into one another's mouths.You pulled back just enough to speak, your noses still bumping as you scrunched your eyes at him. All fondness.

“How about I suck your dick at home like the civilized old farts we are, huh?” you asked.

“Mmm, that sounds good,” he hummed, his lips dropping a tiny peck on the end of your nose.

He squirmed on the seat, trying to get his pants pulled up while you rooted around on the floor for your cardigan. As you pulled it back on and fluffed up the hair now sticking to the back of your neck, Eddie reached out to gently stroke your spine.

At his touch, you turned around towards him, finding a smile on his face that made your heart swell with so much affection, it seemed possible you might melt into the cheap upholstery.

“What’s that look for?” you asked.

He shook his head, that dopey smile remaining in place and that twinkle in his eyes never dimming as he answered with his words running together in a love drunk drawl.

“Nothing,” he said. “M’just really happy.”

Thank you for reading, love you, mean it 🥠

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #older!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #look ma it’s my first request

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circeyoru · 2 months

Text

Collection of Overlords _ Part 4 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

The (somewhat) Request (it's more of an ask of when this is gonna be out)

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 (here)

The reunion and meeting of the century, or perhaps even longer, was on the way. With you seated at the head and your hand-picked souls to the side of the table. To your left starting with the closest was Zestial and Carmilla, to your right should be Alastor but he remained standing by your side behind you so not counting his empty seat, you have Rosie then Zeezi

Now, opposite to you, on the other side of the table were the three Vees, with Vox at the center and the other two, Velvette and Valentino, on either sides

With a soft hum, you decided to change the setting a bit. You snapped your fingers and the long rectangular table changed to a circular one, everyone seated in more sophisticated armchairs catered to their unique forms. There were equal spacing between each of them as well, allowing you to see them individually. The room altered thanks for your spatial ability, making it bigger than what it was

You told Carmilla that she could keep your little table and the chairs once everything was over since you changed things without her knowledge. She was move than happy to accept your gift

Another snap of your fingers and everyone’s preferred drink appeared in front of them and some snacks were placed around the table. You welcomed them to drink and eat to their hearts’ content since it has been a while you had been with them all

“Before we begin… I hope it’s expected that you keep the knowledge I shared during this meeting to yourself, and not attempt to use it to your advantage for future purposes.” You warned with a heavily aura around you.

All your Overlords bowed their heads deeply as a sign of submission to your command and warning.

“Now, I’d like to start the meeting with the latest event I’m sure you all are aware of.” You announced, a hologram of the former Hazbin Hotel building appeared at the center of the table, “There wasn’t any request or orders from me, so I believe some rewards are in order.”

While your Overlords nodded in agreement to your plans, you placed your elbows over the surface of the table, plopping your chin on top of your intertwined fingers. You gave them a moment to recall their actions before you revealed your awardees.

“Carmilla Carmine.” You named your first.

“Yes!” Carmilla strengthened up even more as she put down her cup, folding her hands over her lap while her body was turned in your direction. “My Liege.”

“For your assistance in providing angelic weapons to the soldiers who bravely brought for the Princess’ cause without asking for compensation,” The hologram of the hotel shifted to the side to a territorial map of the Pride Ring, a particular land beside Carmilla’s current domain blinked, “You will be rewarded with an additional land. What do you want it to be for? Name it.”

Carmilla bowed her head as she requested, “If you’ll allow it…” At your silence and smile, she continued, “If I can have a research lab with a testing ground, and another storage unit.”

Your smile widened as your head tilted to the side, “Consider it done.”

Your knuckles knocked on the table. The hologram of that particular domain enlarged and two buildings formed on that land with streets and roads to connect it with Carmilla’s owning domains. Not even a second later, the building shook like an earthquake. Though on the outside, it was merely shaping into what the hologram projected

Things like these were not hard to do, at least, if they were you. You do things like these to reshape Hell into what the human population done in their advancement, that’s how the Pride Ring has been since human souls that are marked to go to Hell was the only Ring they are stay or go to. You do what you could to make the Ring more fitting for them

However, as none realized it was your doing, most would believe Hell’s landscape changes as natural as breathing. Something similar to the ‘mother nature’ concept. It’s enough to give you a good laugh, so you leave it be

Your souls were quick to realize the power they were dealing with. A being capable of shaping Hell without effort and mere thought, it was terrifying yet applaudable. Who would think they have such power? Not even Lucifer can do something of this level

Just think. What if you were to fight for real with your powers? Right now, you have been behind the scenes lurking. You have your Overlords to reign over certain domains and groups of demons. But what if you were to go to war?

Those under you were aware that you were powerful, yet they can’t measure how much so. They aim to please you not merely for the possibility of being rewarded, but to maintain what freedom you’ve given them and your favour

While they don’t outspokenly discuss it, they are aware of their standing within your Elites

“Next, Rosie.” You turned to the other side.

“Yes, Darling Liege?” Rosie smiled back with a wave, enjoying her cup.

“You’re very brave and noble to allow your Cannibals to go to war against the angels without worrying over the lack of training, you’re not even aware that there’d be angelic weapons provided for them to fight with.” You retold to everyone else of Rosie’s feat, “Very commendable.”

Rosie chuckled, covering her mouth with a shy schoolgirl with their crush, “Aww, you’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t even join the battle!”

You nodded in understanding, “Yes, I’m aware, so in addition to your town expansion, I’ll be paying a visit to Cannibal Town in the near future.” Your smile widened as you spoke, “I’ll provide your people a feast, you can bring everyone around.”

Rosie gasped with joy, unable to hold it up, she got up and came over to hug you tight. “Oh! My Liege! That’s wonderful!” She let you go while ranting on and holding onto you, “Everyone will be so excited to see you again!”

You’ve been wanting to deal with your screaming, pleading, and whining insects for some time. You only require the insects’ soul, their bodies worth nothing to you. Yet the large variety would make for a good feast for the Cannibals that oh so loved to devour the flesh of the demons like a pack of wolves

Your knuckles once again knocked on the surface of the table, Rosie’s town expanded and new buildings were built in an instant, mirroring the hologram on the table. A wave of weaker shakes came to them, though it was because Rosie’s place was farther away

Like your relationship with Carmilla’s daughters, you formed special bonds with the citizens of Cannibal Town. Though you had a good laugh when you realized they first tried to eat you out of fear from your mere unannounced presence. They were immediately immobilized and nearly wiped off the map if not for Rosie’s quick interference

It was understandable for you, since at the time, they barely had enough land to live in and it wasn’t like they were particularly strong demons. Think of a colony of ants, they were only the workers and there were no other demons apart from Rosie that they rely on for their continued survival in Hell

So when you came along with that dangerous aura around you, they had to act. Even if they die trying, at least Rosie could lead the other cannibals away. They were such interesting demons that you came back to greet them again

The quickest way to a cannibal’s heart was food and you had more than enough. Adding to the fact that you gave them homes to live in and a town as their own territory, you were more than reverended by Rosie’s people

“Last.” Your head turned over to Alastor, everyone looked over in suit. “Alastor, My Bloody Doe.”

“My Liege.” Alastor stepped forward and kneeled down to your side, staying below your eye level so you weren’t looking up at him. “And Saviour.”

“Not only have you been helping the Princess with her passion project, but you also battled against Adam, the first man and the extermination’s leader, bravely. For that, let’s fix something precious of yours.” You opened your hand for him to place his broken microphone crane in.

Alastor presented the two pieces to you and you took it near where it was cut in half. You pushed them together and sparks flew, in a blink of an eye, the crane was as good as new. The eye in the microphone opened and looked around. “Finally! I’m back!”

“Fixed and I added a bit of life to it.” You passed Alastor his reward, “You’ll find that it’ll be near impossible to break it now. Even if it’s broken, it will amend itself to be even stronger.”

Alastor bowed, his head even lower than before, “I’m undeserving of such a gift.”

“Yes, now sit down in your seat, would you?”

Everyone else watched in envy. It was no secret that Alastor was your favourite. They could tell by the title you allow him to address you by and the little nickname you have for him. They also understand why too

Alastor unknowingly cleared a number of weaker Overlords that refused to submit to you, not only removing them from your domain, but he also shared your interest in torturing those souls. Trapping them in his everlasting broadcast. He was the only one who kept the title the sinners gave him; The Radio Demon

While he didn’t start off with complete obedience and submission, his dedication and loyalty to you proved his worth later on. While others waited for your order in fear of appearing arrogant, he seized the opportunity to impress. It was after Alastor’s actions did the others became more active

Without a doubt, Alastor was the quickest you took a liking to. The quickest to gain an interest in and the quickest to raise up your favourability chart

When he disappeared for that long, as did your presence, the other Overlords wondered if there was something amiss. So they silently waited for Alastor to return to get in touch with you once more. As they waited, they got sloppy

A loud slam on the table made everyone turn their heads to the source. Vox, with a shaking fist, was standing up with a scowl on his screen, “Oh for f**k’s sake! He didn’t even win! He lost and retreated! He was a complete showoff and ignorant of his powers! He doesn’t deserve the Master’s praise and reward!”

Zeezi scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, “Like you’ve done f**k!”

Vox growled, turning to the giant Overlord, “You’re in the same boat!”

Zeezi smirked back, “Yeah, but unlike you f**k**, I’m fine with My Sovereign’s decision.” She gasped sarcastically, “Wait! You interrupted!”

“T wouldst doth thee both valorous if ‘t be true thee quiet down. (It would do you both good if you quiet down.)” Zestial warned the two before Vox could continue to embarrass himself.

Velvette got up as well, “You know when to talk when it suits you, don’t you, fossil?!”

Carmilla glared, “It was a word of advice!”

“Please! Like you’re any better.” Valentino taunted back with a grin, “You’re nothing without your little weapons.”

Rosie chuckled condescendingly, “Oh, dear, you’re one to talk. You can’t do much!”

Electricity sparked, Vox’s eye twitched, “You all shut the f**k up! You’re all ganging up on us just because you got numbers now!”

Velvette laughed along, “I bet you’re all a bunch of pussy cats! Can’t fight without guaranteed success.”

Valentino added, “I bet my soul I can take you all on and knock you down a few pegs.”

Crack!

Note: And that's when Velvette knew... she [redacted] Hahahhahaha! This meeting is getting way too long I feel. But it's gonna end somewhere in the next part. Lucifer's gonna appear~ Any theories? Before that, how you think of this part???

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist

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islesnucks · 3 months

Text

𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓵 - Mathew Barzal x Reader

Summary: what started as an accidentall voicemial to your ex boyfriend ended up becoming routine and maybe even more TW: none that i can think of

Word count: 3.9k A/N: completely made up game schedule btw

Masterlist Add yoruself to the taglist if you wanna be notified when i post the fic!

“Hey, it’s Mat.” His voice echoed through the phone, so familiar yet strangely distant now. You’d heard him speak in interviews, but this was different. He was addressing you, or at least the voicemail version of you. “I can’t answer right now, so you know what to do.”

You didn’t know what to do. Calling your ex-boyfriend, the one you had broken up with months ago, wasn’t something you had exactly planned. Yet, when the acceptance email for the program you had worked tirelessly for arrived, the one he had witnessed you pour your heart into, he was the person you wanted to share it with. So that’s what you were doing, trying no to overthink it before nerves got the best of you.

“Mat, hi. This is so random—H-how are you?” Thank God he didn’t answer, you were a stuttering mess leaving a voicemail imagine if it had been him on the other end instead. “I got in! Into the program I mean. I don’t know why, but I wanted to tell you. You helped me so much before—” you cut yourself again. It didn’t feel right to mention the break up like that, but what could you say? Before I broke up with you? Before I stumbled out of your apartment leaving you behind without an explanation?

“Fuck it. I can’t do this.” You pulled your phone away from your ear and touched the red dot.

That’s it. He didn’t need to know, he probably wouldn’t even care. Who would want their ex to call to tell them they were doing great? That maybe after all the breakup was worth it because they had gotten into the program they had neglected their relationship for? Too long, right?

A second later, realization struck like lightning – you had ended the call before deleting the voicemail. It had been sent.

“Oh no, no, no!” you exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. There was no turning back. Mat would undoubtedly hear you stumbling over your words. Why couldn’t you have just left well enough alone? The last thing he needed was you barging back into his life with a pathetic voicemail about something he likely moved on from. ‘He probably already despises me after how everything unfolded, and now this’ you thought.

You were wrong, because no longer than 5 minutes after everything had gone down your phone was buzzing in your hand, Mat’s contact bright in the center as he now waited for you to pick up for a change.

“Mat.” you picked up.

“Hey. You called me?” He sounded confused, for very obvious reasons. Nevertheless it was nice to hear his voice now directed at you.

“Yeah, right. I left you a voicemail.” You rolled your eyes. At least you sounded less nervous than earlier on the voicemail, but it was not less embarrassing.

Mat’s voice came through, cool and collected. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t check. I just saw the missed call and, you know.”

“Sure, sure.” you replied, trying to sound half as calm as he seemed to be with the whole situation.

“Do you want me to hear it or …” his offer hovered in the air.

“No! I mean, I can tell you.” You cringed at the thought of him hearing your rambling voicemail. “So, I called because I just got the mail. I got into the program!”

“Shut up! That’s great! Congratulations!” Mat’s excitement burst through the line. Your heart melted a little. After everything that had happened he sounded genuinely happy for you.

“Thank you, Maty.”

Mat’s tone softened. “You deserve it, after all the hard work you put into it. I knew you’d get it.”

You chuckled, the tension easing. “I know, I know. You told me like a million times. I was just insecure.”

For a second you let yourself imagine this was under other circumstances. You were still together and he was calling you right after practice or from another city in one of his roadies. He’d come back home eventually and hug you so tight you wouldn’t be able to breath, probably lift you up and spin you around a little. You wouldn’t be able to stop laughing and-

“I know …” Mat’s response brought you back to reality. The reality in which he wouldn’t knock on your door with his arms wide open.

His tone carried an easy understanding. He definitely knew about your insecurities. They played a huge role on why your relationship was the way it was right now: nonexistent.

“So that’s what the voicemail said?” He broke the silence.

“Yeah, basically. But you know, all giddy and stuff. Really embarrassing.”

Mat’s laughter grew louder, and you could practically see him shaking his head. “Oh, really? Well, now I have to hear it.”

“No, no, no.” you protested, your embarrassment deepening. “Seriously, don’t Barzal. I know where you live.”

But Mat insisted, his curiosity piqued. “Come on! Embrace the cringe. It can’t be that bad.”

He ended the call before you could object anymore, only to call you back a minute later. Mat’s laughter erupted again as soon as you picked up, and you couldn’t help but join in, the shared humor dissipating the lingering awkwardness. If you closed your eyes you could almost picture him with that scrunched up nose as he laughed.

“The ‘fuck it, i can’t do this’ was the best part by far.”

The familiar buzz of the MSG postgame show filled the cozy confines of your living room as Mat’s name flashed brightly on your phone, catching you off guard. Shannon and Hickey were in full praise mode, replaying Mat’s epic goal on loop, and there he was, the main attraction, waiting on the other end of the line for you to pick up.

You fumbled for your phone, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you swiped to answer. “Hey, I didn’t expect your call.” you remarked, the commentator’s voices still ringing in your ears.

“Bad timing?” Mat’s voice crackled through the phone, a hint of breathlessness underscoring his words – probably still riding the adrenaline high from the ice.

“No, no. It’s just that a second ago you were on my screen falling all over the ice.” you teased, imagining his less-than-graceful moments on the rink.

“I don’t fall that much!” he argued, sounding mildly offended.

“You do, but you also score, so it’s forgiven. Congrats on your almost hatty, by the way.” You chuckled, knowing how much he loathed falling a goal short. Always so hard on himself.

Mat scoffed, clearly annoyed at missing the mark. “So, you watched tonight?”

“Obviously, I watch every game I can catch.” you replied, the excitement of the game still coursing through your veins. The thrill of watching Mat succeed, even from a distance, even after all that happened, was undeniable.

“You should come, you know. I’m sure the girls would love to see you.” Mat suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of longing.

“I don’t know, Mat. It’s not my place anymore.” you hesitated, letting the uncertainty hang in the air. You had to change the subject before your mind started spiraling. “Anyway, why did you call?”

“Oh, right. I listened to your voicemail again!”

“So you called to tell me you haven’t actually deleted it like you promised?”

“I heard it right before the game and got 2 goals and 2 assists. I think it’ll become my new pregame ritual, honestly.” Mat admitted, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of nostalgia. Why had he chosen to hear it? That’s something he would save for himself for now. The shared memories of your past flitted between you, unspoken but palpable.

“Really? Want me to send embarrassing voicemails before every game?”

“I’d love it. Yes, please.” Mat replied with a laugh, the warmth of his laughter washing over you like a comforting embrace. The playful banter held a certain intimacy, a bridge between past flames and the uncharted territory of what lay ahead.

The banter flowed seamlessly, a blend of shared history and the current moment. The familiarity was comforting, but the unspoken complexities of your past lingered in the air, a delicate tension.

NYI vs. TBL - November 5th

“Hey, Barzy. I don’t know if you were joking or not but here’s your pregame embarrassing voicemail as solicited. You weren’t serious, right? Well fuck it, enjoy it or ignore me whatever.”

NYI vs. CGY - November 7th

“Just walked past that coffee shop where we had our third or fourth date I think. Remember how you choked over your latte when I lied and said I loved the Rangers?”

NYI vs. SEA - November 9th

“Hey, you won’t believe who I just saw. That guy that lives in the building across the street, the one that has your face tattooed on his left arm. He asked about you, told me to wish you good luck. So good luck from him … and from me. Good luck tonight.”

NYI vs. VAN - November 11th

“Hi! Your sister told me your family is going tonight, so send them a kiss from me, ok? … I-I keep in touch with her, I don’t know if you knew that or like maybe I should’ve told you? Are you ok with that? I’m sorry I just assumed you would be. Anyway, good luck! Say hi from me! Or don’t if you don’t want to-”

NYI vs. NYR - November 16th

“Dude. Rangers tonight. Don’t mess it up. May have bet on you guys with a guy from work, I don’t wanna have to pay for his lunch tomorrow. Please. Good luck, 13.”

NYI vs. PIT - November 18th

“Shit, shit, shit. Hope you can hear this before the game. I’m still getting used to the program’s schedule and all of that, I’m kind of a mess right now. Anyway, good luck!”

NYI vs. DET - November 20th

“Maty, hi! I know this is kind of dumb because I saw you like 10 minutes ago and I’m in the building but still thought I should leave the voicemail just in case. (Come on!) Ok I have to go, Sydney has a tone of gossip to catch me up on. Good luck!”

NYI vs. DAL - November 23th

“Hello Mr Barzal, I won’t be able to watch tonight, but still good luck! Even if you don’t win, I hope you score a goal, make an assist. That 8 game point streak you have going on is insane. I think I’ll start charging you for this if they are working so well.Good luck Barzy!”

NYI vs. STL - November 26th

“Hey! First of all, good luck! Second, I left my scarf at the Lee’s last night. It’s red, I was wearing it when you picked me up. Grace said Anders would give it to you tonight. Maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow so you can give it back? Anyway, good luck!”

NYI vs. CHI - November 28th

“13, hello! I don’t have anything funny to tell you today so just good luck! Love you- shit, sorry. Habit I guess. Bye.”

NYI vs. NYR - November 30th

“You have zero new voicemails. To record a new personal greeting press one-”

You tried everything to get your mind off it, but it wasn’t working. The cup of tea was now cold in your hand and you couldn’t even pretend to care what was going on in the movie you had playing on your tv. The game had ended an hour ago but it was on replay in your mind.

It was silly to think it was your fault. You couldn’t influence the score of the match, the 5-1 loss against the Rangers wasn’t on you. However the outcome would’ve been different if their starplayer hadn’t been taking stupid penalties, losing the puck, causing turnovers. That could be on you partially.

The bell ringing caught you by surprise, almost dropping the cold tea. You got up to answer, even though you had a feeling you knew who was waiting by your building’s door.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” The familiar voice needed no introduction.

“Mat? What are you doing here?”

“Buzz me in.” he requests, and you could practically hear the determination in his tone. With a resigned sigh, you pressed the buzzer, knowing full well he wouldn’t leave until he got what he came for.

A few moments later, a knock sounded at the door, and you found yourself face to face with him. Determination was bright in his eyes, your heart started racing.

“What’s going on?” He rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by your attempt at pretending not to know why he’s there.

“You didn’t leave a voicemail.” Mat strided in without waiting for an invitation, and the unspoken tension was palpable.

“Right, that. I guess I forgot. Sorry.” you lied, trying to sound convincing but knowing there’s no use, he’d know. You closed the door behind him almost instinctively, as if shutting out the forthcoming emotional storm that’s about to break in your apartment.

“You’ve been sending me a voicemail before every single game for the past month.” he remarked, his gaze keenly picking up on your avoidance. Frustration started to take over. He already had been in this position before, begging you for explanations and all you did was look away. “Please, don’t shut me out. Not again.”

“I got confused, okay? Why are we doing this? I’m your ex-girlfriend, I broke up with you, Mat. And now I’m going to your games and sending you voicemails every game? What even is this?”

At some point you started walking all over the living room, the distress was clear. Mat was better at hiding it, he stood still by the door like he had been since he walked in, but you could see his hands fidgeting. Neither of you had a clear head to take on what was about to come, chaos was inevitable.

“I don’t know, but I thought you liked this. I thought it was like an inside joke, our own thing.”

“It was that. But you’re not supposed to have that with your ex.” you said, trying to emphasize the last word for him, as if a reminder of your status would help the situation in any way.

“We’re friends?” He furrowed his brows, and, had it not been for the situation you were in, you would’ve laughed at the way even he sounded so unsure of what he was saying.

“Mat, come on. It’s confusing, I know I was getting confused. It started with the voicemails, which was already something, but then we’re talking every day, I’m going to your games again and team’s gatherings, we’re hanging out again. I said ‘I love you’ on my last one!” You finally looked at him, baring it all. There was only one solution in your mind and it had to be taken no matter the pain it would undoubtedly cost you. “I think it’s better if we stop.”

There was a moment of silence, he looked at you as if trying to read through the wall you were hiding behind. Trying to decipher if it was you speaking or your insecurities had taken over again. Most importantly, trying to figure out if this time he had what it took to get to you before he lost you.

“I don’t want it to stop.” he said, determination clear in his voice. In a second he closed the gap between you. The proximity caught you off guard, you couldn’t remember the last time you were this close. “Tell me you don’t feel anything.” It sounded almost like a beg, but he didn’t care.

“We broke up.” you insisted, trying to sound all resolute.

“You broke up with me.” he corrected you, his gaze holding steady, slicing through your defenses.

“We weren’t working, Mat! We could barely see each other, and when we did, we were too tired or stressed. We fought a lot. We broke up.” It sounded almost childish the way you stubbornly persisted on it, like you needed to reassure yourself more than him how things had played out last time.

“Couples fight sometimes; it’s normal. I was stressed about the playoffs, and you were stressed about getting into the program. It was a bad moment, yes, but that’s over.”

“Other problems are gonna come up.”

“We can face them together, we fight and make up. That’s it, that’s how couples work.”

You paused for a second, it made no sense to keep on repeating yourself. It seemed like he had a solution for every obstacle you presented. He had come here for answers, it was time to give them to him even if you were answering older already forgotten questions.

“I was scared, Mat. I was scared and insecure, and it felt like I was ruining it all.” Tears start rolling down your face and there’s nothing he wants more than to hug you, keep you close to his chest, push the pain away; but he knows he shouldn’t. You’re finally letting down your guard, telling him what he’s been dying to hear for months; he has to give you space to be vulnerable. “I thought it was better to break things up before they got really nasty.” your voice wobbled.

“I get it, I really do. But you could’ve told me and I should’ve been more present, not left you alone to deal with our problems. We could’ve tried to make it work. ” He looked deep into your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of understanding and unwavering love. “I know I loved you more than enough to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about how I ended things, and I’m sorry about the voicemail and all the mess I’ve caused.” You tried to walk away from him, the proximity being too much, but he caught your arm making you face him once again.

Tears started streaming down his face as you tried to grapple with the weight of your own decisions. He looked you in the eyes, the determination from earlier is still there, even behind the tears those glossy eyes told you he wasn’t gonna leave in silence like last time. This time he had to leave it all out, even if he ended up hurt in the process.

“When you first called me I was too nervous to answer so I let it go to voicemail. I think even then I knew it wasn’t over for me, I knew hearing your voice would bring it all back.” You winced, acutely aware of the emotional turmoil you’ve caused. What you didn’t know was he wasn’t worried about pain coming back; what worried him was all the love he had for you and had pushed away after the break up coming back and once again not having where to put it.

“But then I wanted to hear you, the real you, not the voicemail, so I called you. I cannot tell you how happy it made me to hear you, like my heart was beating again after months of numbness. And you were telling me this great news, when you got that acceptance letter you wanted to tell me.” he continued, and you released a heavy breath, a half-smile forming on your face. He was right, the first person you wanted to share your triumph with was him, you hadn’t thought much about it back then but no it was so clear.

“I replayed your voicemail before the game that first time because I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I heard you over the phone earlier that day, and all I wanted was to hear you again talking to me.” he confessed, a mixture of vulnerability and longing in his words. “At first I thought maybe I was making it up, you know? Maybe it was just my unresolved feelings, maybe there was nothing going on. But you called me first and then you kept on sending the voicemails. Things were going back to the way they were before. It felt like I was me again, like we were us again.”

Mat smiled thinking how everyone could notice; his friends, his teammates, his family, everyone could see the old Mat was back. He told them off, too afraid to consider you were all he was missing because he knew he didn’t have you back, not yet.

His hand gently cupped your face, sending a shiver down your spine. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch. You missed it, there was no denying it anymore. You missed it all too much—his touch, his voice, his energy, his very presence. Him.

“You said ‘I love you’ on the last voicemail. I replayed it like 20 times at least, just to hear those three words. From you, to me.” The weight of those three words hung in the air between the two of you after so long, it was electrifying. Your heart raced; he was about to say it, and you yearned to hear it.

“I love you.” he declared, and there was no ambiguity this time. It wasn’t a recall of your words; this time, it was his confession to you.

“Maty…” was all you managed to say; his nickname laden with tenderness and echoes of old fears that still lingered.

“I want this. I want you even if I can only see you two times a week and even if half that time you are studying or working or stressing over both. I want to be there with you. I want to fight and make up. I want all of it, the messy and ugly included.”

“I love you.” you finally whispered.

It was over. He loved you, you loved him, and there was nothing left to say.

In that breath-holding moment, he leaned down, his lips finally touching yours. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a wild ride through forgiveness, longing, and the silent agreement to dive back into the messy and the beautiful, hand in hand. He was smiling into the kiss, so were you. The taste of salt from their tears lingered, mingling with the sweetness of the moment. The kiss spoke of second chances and the magic of beginnings, a promise to rewrite the story that had once unraveled.

You pulled away, breathless and teary-eyed, yet a radiant joy painted across your faces. You laughed, a melody of relief and newfound hope. One of his hands was on your back as the other traveled from your face to the back of your head, pulling you against his chest. Your arms hugged his torso tight.

“I love you.” he mumbled against your head before placing a kiss on top.

NYI vs. MTL - December 1st

“Hey! Good luck tonight babe-”

“I don’t think it counts if I’m literally next to you when you record it.”

“Shush. Who’s the voicemail expert here? Me. Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me: good luck tonight, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

soooooo it’s here! hope you like it! like and reblogs are always appreciated!

it felt so good to write again and to share it too, hope i have more time this year to write more stuff

taglist:

@glassdanse @2manytabsopen @barbienoturbby @sweetlittlegingy @mcsteamylove98 @ttylfedora @chieflawyerpastatoad @iwantahockeyhimbo @fallinallincurls @jordiee95 @heatherawoowoo @barzysreputation @farabeezers @4ambagelbites @matwith1t @audryaho @maximoff-xmen @astrydis @joelsfarabees @bitchforbarzy @deloughrey @brias1201 @besthockeyfics @ya-pucking-nerd @hoiyheadharpies @mckenna4 @rosesvioletshardy @hockeyunits @siriusly-parker @ilyasorokinn @lam-ila @boqvistsbabe @theycallmecassie @ephemeral371 @hal3ynicol3 @angelblooddevil @besthockeyfics @beauvertime @picked-off-by-barzal @1316 @cherrygirl1229 @lunabean @random-readers-world @poufsouffle21 @barzysbaby @matbarzal13 @alwaysclassyeagle @wanbach23 @evaggreendaily

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my313 · 2 months

Text

in beomgyu's room 🧸

now playing 𝄞₊⊹ bad - wave to earth & best friend - laufey

⋆ pairing: bestfriend!beomgyu x f!reader

⋆ summary: a reel of your most precious memories in beomgyu’s room(s), and the one time it’s also yours.

⋆ genre/themes/warnings: fluff, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, non-idol au, mention of mommy kink (sorry they have weird inside jokes)

⋆ word count: 3.6k

a/n: this isnt proofread n i dont think its my best writing, i wanted to focus on dialogue a lot more :0 but i just wanted to put out a lil something for gyu's bday <3 our talented pretty boy 🥹 anyways, i hope u enjoy reading this!

2009

beomgyu’s room at eight years old is directly opposite from your window. you recently watched taylor swift’s you belong with me music video, and your unassuming neighbor who just recently moved in has become the center of the romantic production running in your little mind.

when his family invites you over for dinner, you’re giddy to put a name to the pretty boy that’s been in your sights; only ever seeing him with a guitar strapped to his back when he walks by your house as you sit on the porch with a book.

“hi,” he’s the one opening the door, greeting you enthusiastically. you assumed he would have been a shy boy, especially with the way he walked with his head down and never without an mp3 player and wired earphones. that was just one of the many surprises beomgyu had in store for you and your serendipitous friendship.

beomgyu smiles politely at your parents before pulling the door back and letting you all inside. your mother’s ushering you to the boy, hurriedly greeting his parents and leaving you in beomgyu’s care.

you turn to him, shy and unsure of what to do, but beomgyu’s there to pull you out of your daydreams. he slightly tugs the sleeve of your shirt, chin tilted to the direction of the stairs. “wanna play mario kart in my room?”

you’re scanning the room to look for your parents, silently asking permission with your eyes when you catch your dad looking back at you. when he nods, you’re quick to relay it to beomgyu, who returns the biggest smile you’ve seen. boys are usually rough around the edges, either boisterous or freakishly hyper-aware of cooties, but beomgyu is different. he’s just loud enough to have you laughing until your tummy hurts, but he’s also a good listener.

your feet dangle from the height of his bed while he sets up his wii. it only takes a few minutes of tinkering and confused grumbles before beomgyu joins you, sitting close and handing over the controller.

“i’ve never played this game before!” your voice chimes with the game’s background music, fiddling with the buttons on your controller and accidentally pressing something that makes beomgyu laugh.

“that’s okay,” he navigates through the buttons on the screen to take you back to the starting screen. “i’ll go easy on you.”

you may have gotten beomgyu all wrong, because as you inch closer to stealing his first place spot on your eighth round of playing, he throws a green shell at you, putting you off-course.

“that’s so not fair, beomgyu!” you grumble frustratedly, shoulders slumped. beomgyu has a mischievous smile on his face; a different charm to the friendly one you encountered at his doorway, or the re-assuring one when he asked to play mario kart.

“i didn’t even know you could do that.” you whine, twisting your body left and right as if it would take away from your loss.

beomgyu’s mouth opens, but instead of hearing his squeaky voice, you both hear your mom’s.

“yn, time to go home!”

you both tear your eyes away from the doorframe to look at one another.

“teach me next time?” you plead, eyes shiny and hopeful that you’ve got a new friend to play with. someone who would always be next to you.

beomgyu feels similarly. he lets it show by nodding enthusiastically, his rectangular glasses pressed onto his rising cheeks, swelling from all the smiling he’s done tonight.

2017

“choi beomgyu!” you yell from the bottom of the staircase, leaning on the creaky railing despite beomgyu’s constant warnings of “you’re gonna fall off one day, y’know.”

you’re both sixteen years old, and tonight is prom. unlike the books you read, you were not serenaded by the most beautiful (subjective) boy in school; but like the disney movies, you’re at your best friend’s house and going as each other’s dates.

the idea was initially disgusting to both you and beomgyu, suggested by menacingly blunt choi soobin during one of your escapades to the internet cafe. when prom started to come closer and closer, you and beomgyu would briefly text about it in jokes. the final straw was probably the fact that soobin actually got a date before either of you. so, with only three days to prom and a whole lot of spite, you and beomgyu hunted down matching corsages and sealed the deal.

you glance at the clock on the wall, ticking seven. sick of waiting on your bare feet, you lift the trailing end of your dress and make your way up to beomgyu’s room.

you don’t bother to knock, having seen the worst of beomgyu and his room already. the sight that greets you is anything but what you expect.

you expected heaps of clothes on the floor from his panicked frenzy of not knowing what to put on under his blazer; maybe some mismatched socks, and shoes tossed to every corner out of indecision.

instead, you see beomgyu clad in a neat, black suit, with a navy blue dress shirt. his black hair, usually falling over his eyelashes, is tucked away to show off the face that many come to your classroom to see. just like how he was at eight, you know beomgyu is different; he’s delicate, never gruff, even when he picks you up from your doorstep with bedhead.

beomgyu has always been pretty, but tonight, he’s charming. he’s handsome. just thinking it makes you want to regurgitate your words and flush them down the toilet. it brings upon this weird pit in your stomach that was never there when you were wiping your cheeto-dust fingers on beomgyu’s shirt as some petty form of teasing. that weird feeling you only got when someone cute walked your way, or someone flustered you to the point of developing a crush. you hope it’s nothing too serious.

“woah!”

“what.” beomgyu deadpans, unamused by your exaggerated gasp. in reality, the pink on his cheeks already has you guessing that he’s shy. your beomgyu has always been one for compliments and sweet gestures, recalling how his eyes brightened every time your smaller hands patted his head when you were younger.

“no need to get sassy, jeez,” you roll your eyes playfully, the smile on your face never leaving. “you look good. handsome.”

“thanks,” he smiles sheepishly. it’s silent for a bit, until beomgyu says, “keep ‘em coming…”

“dipshit!” you smack his forearm. “you’ll hear more from everyone tonight, i bet.”

“i guess so,” he shrugs, looking at himself on the full-length mirror, trying to fold his necktie like the way his dad taught him. you move closer, your dress trailing behind you when you drop the sides in favor of helping beomgyu out with his tie. you’re so close; the kind of close you and beomgyu haven’t been ever before, except when you were ten and you fell off your bike, crashing onto him.

you’re in front of him now, looping the fabric and not really looking at him. you can’t tell that he’s staring down at your concentrated face, smiling softly at how your tongue peeks out of your mouth in concentration.

he hasn’t gotten the chance to compliment you back, but he’s noticed how beautiful you looked the minute you stepped into his room. his thoughts only get confirmed further now that you’re just a few breaths apart; your lip gloss has a sheen that’s tempting to swipe off with his own lips, and your eyelashes flutter in the way that beomgyu pictures in a few years time, where you’re waking up next to him every morning.

“not from anyone that matters though.”

your fingers stop working, peering up at your best friend. you don’t really know what to make of how his eyes glisten; how they look fondly at you, so you revert to the only thing you and beomgyu know will fix anything — fooling around, saying something stupid.

“are you saying if soobin complimented you, you wouldn’t give a fuck?”

“you make it sound like i’m in love with him.” you shrug, lips pursed as you continue the final touches of his tie. he bumps his forehead onto yours, making you curse. “what? bros can seek validation from one another!”

“so can i seek it from you, bro?”

you shake your head, amused by his unfamiliar use of the nickname. “whatever. are you done now?”

“no.” you groan. beomgyu pulls away from you first, going to his bedside drawer and fishing out a box.

he come back to your side, this time, with the corsage you both overpaid for. beomgyu wraps it around your wrist and prompts you to turn your hand over, tying it up for you. you watch him intently.

unconsciously, your hands extend to caress his head, gently patting his styled hair. the moment your fingers graze his scalp, he freezes up for a few seconds before resuming, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest.

“i forgot to say earlier,” beomgyu returns to his full height, but his hand is still holding yours. he squeezes three times with his dimples peeking out as he smiles, a semblance of a confession that you fail to pick up on. “you look beautiful tonight, too.”

2021

it’s nearly midnight when you and beomgyu decide that the best activity to do when both of you are jobless on a friday night (saturday morning now) is to dye each other’s hair.

you left an hour ago for a random supermarket run, and you return with a bottle of bleach, developer and a bunch of dyes that were on sale. possibly also a whole new stock of instant ramen. tonight was one of the nights you’re relieved your best friend has a car.

you’re both twenty now, in college and far away from home for a while. still, home doesn’t feel too far away when beomgyu’s still waiting for you outside the girls’ dorm building with disheveled hair. from your freshman year to now, beomgyu’s still been the same beomgyu that you love. you can admit that to yourself now, finally catching the culprit of that odd feeling in your stomach from prom night. though you’re unsure when you can gather the courage to tell him all that.

you’re pushing the door open to beomgyu’s dorm room, seeing his roommate taehyun slipping his shoes on with a backpack.

“are you running away?” you question, half-joking. “beomgyu can’t be that bad of a roommate. he’s like a pet goldfish sometimes.”

beomgyu’s shutting the door behind you when he walks into your odd conversation with taehyun. “that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said about me.”

“goldfish are so cute though!” you reason with him, your tone higher in pitch as your silly charade continues. taehyun’s joining along too, laughing at the banter between you and beomgyu. “did you know the guy who created goldfish crackers made them because his wife was a pisces?”

“i’m a pisces,” beomgyu proudly states, chest puffed out with the bags of your pointless mission weighing down his shoulders. “would you make me a fish-inspired snack, yn? answer carefully, our relationship depends on it.”

you try to ignore the fact that he says relationship, not friendship. details, details. but beomgyu’s all about details. he didn’t say anything for just no reason, so you can’t help but let the thought fester. for now, you keep up with the jokes.

“you don’t even like seafood, gyu.”

“okay kids,” taehyun interrupts, heading towards the door. “i’m going to the gym. don’t burn the place up, please…”

“i think i’m gonna burn something else.” you snark, looking up at beomgyu’s perfectly smooth hair. he catches your stare and consciously guards his head.

taehyun leaves in the next few minutes, and it’s just you and beomgyu again.

beomgyu’s eyebrows wiggle comically, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you to the bathroom. “w-wait, wait!”

“what? backing out?” he challenges you, shaking you by the shoulders. “yn, you can’t!” his whining is convincing, but mostly because beomgyu has this pout that he doesn’t know you succumb to every single time he pulls it out — which is nearly everyday.

“n-no..! just..”

beomgyu’s face softens. he takes your face between his right hand, squishing your cheeks repeatedly. he huffs mockingly, “fine, you can do mine first.”

in the next hour, beomgyu’s desk chair is situated between the bathroom door and the carpeted floor of the bedroom, holding it open to let the stench of the bleach disperse. you’re sitting on said chair with a towel on your lap, while beomgyu sits on the bathroom floor, legs folded to his chest. his back is leaning against the middle of the chair, but he’s essentially sitting between your legs as you clumsily paint bleach over random sections of his hair.

“sorry if this turns to shit, beoms.” you snicker, layering more product on the strand between your fingers. you’re startled by beomgyu’s movements, his head tilting upwards slightly to look at you before looking back down. “you owe me free food for the rest of our lives if i end up looking like a dalmatian.”

“that’s fine,” you giggle, tapping his shoulder to motion for him to turn around and face you, trying to get the sections with his bangs. “at least i know we’ll be best friends forever.”

beomgyu fights the urge to say something stupid; something that might end the nights of you sleeping over and snuggling close to his chest — the things that pop up in his head range from “you’re so cute, i wanna kiss you.” to “i think i’ve been in love with you for years, so yeah, anyway.”

he still says something rather silly, but he thinks it’s just slightly less off-putting than telling your best friend who you grew up with that you’re in love with her.

“technically, you’d be my sugar mommy.”

you raise a brow, “outing your mommy kink?”

“yes, and?”

fits of laughter fill the air, you have to place the brush back on the sink in case you smack beomgyu’s face from how you throw your whole body around when you laugh. he’s just the same, nearly snorting when he sees how red your face has become.

at some point, you’re still trying to recover from giggling so hard, taking the brush back into your hands and picking out sections of beomgyu’s bangs. he chooses to perch his chin on one of your thighs with his head tilted up, as if admiring you deeply from the ground. beomgyu can ignore the prickly sensation settling on his scalp and the cold tiles of his bathroom floor freezing his butt off if he can see you from this view more often. it reminds him of when you used to let him rest his head on your lap that one time your families went on a road trip, and you both were stuck in the back. or the other times in his childhood bedroom where he’d fall asleep and wake up with your fingers tangled in his hair, head over a pillow on your lap.

beomgyu thinks he fell for you then, that he’d decided that he’d kneel on the ground forever if you asked him to. he thinks he’d probably do much worse if the requests were coming from your pretty lips.

you stop painting over his hair, signaling that beomgyu’s done. you think beomgyu’s going to get up from the floor, his legs crossed and obviously sleeping from how long you’ve had him sitting down there, but he’s still in-between your legs that it stops you from moving too. you’re about to joke around and tell him to get up, but you finally catch onto the fact that he’s looking up at you like he’s stargazing, or watching the prettiest sunset in the summer.

“gyu, what’s up?”

it takes a while for him to respond. beomgyu feels his mind drifting to places he doesn’t know he’s allowed to be in; thinking about how he’s thought of waking up next to you since he was sixteen, and it might have sounded like trying to snatch the sun from the sky back then, but he feels an inkling that it’s not too impossible right now, at twenty, in his room and at your disposal.

“do you remember when we went to prom together?”

you snort, reminded of your trembling hands when your parents asked you and beomgyu to take pictures and pose together, feeling his hand on your waist. “yeah, we looked pretty good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu draws circles and random patterns on your clothed thighs. “we did look pretty good together.”

“what?”

“what did you say, gyu?” your voice comes out in a whisper, even when you try to be firm and persistent.

“you heard me,” he mumbles, finally looking away from you with the pink dusting his cheeks.

“no, i think i have to hear it again.” you tease, flicking his forehead to turn his attention back on you. “come on, say it.”

beomgyu bounces back, eyes trained on you as his lips move faster than any other time you’ve listened to him babble. he’s never even spoken this fast when he’s raging on his matches with soobin.

“jeez, yn, you wanna hear me say i’m in love with my best friend who i have also imagined living together with for the rest of my life?”

he blinks, realizing what he just said. “well… i mean, you got it.”

you press your lips together, trying to hold in the laugh that was threatening to burst out on beomgyu’s deer-in-the-headlights face. you’d feel terrible if you ruined this moment for both of you, so you try and keep it to giggles and a pleased grin.

“you sure you wanna live with me for the rest of your life, beomie?” you tease, bending down and bringing your face close to his. you enjoy the feeling of making beomgyu shy, and you know his guilty pleasure is when you’re rendered flustered and defensive.

“that’s all you got from what i said?” he pouts.

“aw, baby,” cooing at him. if his hair wasn’t slicked with bleach, you would have fluffed it and patted it the way he always liked. “d’you wanna start apartment hunting and writing down our kids’ names?”

he blinks up at you, briefly taking his phone out of his pocket and turning it over to show his notes app. “yeah, go ahead.”

“beomgyu.” you stare at him, slightly bewildered and freaked out, but also endeared.

“i’m just joking!” he puts his hands up defensively.

he taps your thigh again once his arms let up. “...you still haven’t said anything.”

“if it wasn’t obvious enough, choi beomgyu,” you start, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “i’m also in love with you. and i would love to be by your side forever.”

2024

it’s almost been three years since the night beomgyu and you confessed to each other.

everything seems to come full-circle, because you’re twenty three and sitting on beomgyu’s lap while playing mario kart. you have vivid memories of being eight years old and telling beomgyu off for not going easy on a first-timer, but you’ve had years and years of payback for that moment by now.

beomgyu doesn’t need to go easy on you anymore, occasionally yelling in your ear when you sabotage him, only to trail kisses from your earlobe to your neck as an apology.

as you finish up your last game as promised, you turn your head and press a chaste kiss on beomgyu’s cheek. sometimes, you still can’t believe your best friend has graduated from being just that, to being your boyfriend. beomgyu chases after your face as soon as you detach from him, his lips quickly pecking yours.

it took a while until you and beomgyu could live together, only finding a place you could both attest to earlier this year. but since then, you’ve made plenty of memories in every nook and cranny.

you keep old habits like mario kart, and beomgyu purposely makes mistakes with his necktie just so you can tug on it, kiss him and fix it instead. but your life with beomgyu has new bits and pieces that flourished since sharing your love for one another. your shared baths that consist of gossip that beomgyu is overly enthusiastic of; taking selfies every night when you put on sheet masks for each other; and instead of picking you up with bedhead, you have the privilege of seeing beomgyu in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, picking you up from work and waiting for you to fill the passenger seat of his car.

it makes you think not only about all the lovely moments you’ve had with beomgyu, but the ugly parts that only you both know of each other.

“i really hope this is a forever thing, gyu.” you blurt out.

“playing mario kart with me?” beomgyu knows what you mean; he can tell you’re floating in your head when you ask him. still, he lightens the mood.

“yeah,” you chuckle. you suppose he isn’t wrong, you wouldn’t mind this at all.

“baby,” he tucks a hair behind your ear. “look at me, hm?”

“i love you today,” beomgyu kisses your lips, moves to either side of your cheeks. “i love you tomorrow,” now he’s pressing one on your nose. “the day after,” the last one on your forehead. “until we’re old and wrinkly, i love you.”

your smile in the midst of all his kisses is as wide as it was when you first met beomgyu. you cradle his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbones then bumping your noses together briefly. it makes beomgyu laugh, the sound still as pretty as when he stumbled over his words trying to confess to you. “there’s no one else i would have fallen in love with other than you, gyu,”

“my best friend in the world.”

#from.313 #313.softhours #txt beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu soft thoughts #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #txt fluff #txt x reader #313.beomgyu

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extrajigs · 1 year

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Wanted to figure out how chimera’s wrote and ended up starting on their written language proper. MASSIVE info dump below!

Writing

They write using four fingers of one hand, usually the right, coated in ink. Think like a stamp almost. The three middle fingers draw with the tips of the teeth whilst the thumb will alternate between tip and back. All words are written simultaneously inward. The remaining fingers grip the source of ink, usually a length of hardened pigment only wetted on one side OR those who write often could invest in a pen. A pen for a chimera is a fanning brush saturated with ink that the writing teeth brush through when needing to reink. It allows for much faster wetting of the teeth, but can be messy when learning or refilling.

Most chimera are right handed but left handed individuals exist, they will simply need to learn to use the two fingers opposite the middle in reverse of how someone who is right handed would! Luckily all fingers can move pretty independently of each other and it is an easy task. As chimera mostly communicate through direct broadcast most find the written word lacking, so it is a common occupation among Chimera to write for others. It is an impressive skill to eloquently convey ideas/feelings through writing. Though their language set up lends to it MUCH more than others.

The Nitty Gritty

All subject to change as this is very first drafty.

Chimeric is a logographic language, there is no set alphabet and all ‘words’ stem from symbols representing things and ideas. Sentences are kind of two sentences atop one another, with one being the literal and the other the reactionary. It is read from out to in and sentences are written in a circle divided into 4 quarters. We’ll start with the top moving counter clockwise.

Quarter 1 (Red) is the subject area, now subjects function the same as nouns for the most part, people, places, and things. But something important to note is that there must always be an ‘audience’ for the words being spoken. An audience basically means pronouns though they are a lot more encompassing with: I, You, Us, Them, Them excluding me/you, Us excluding you, Everyone, and a bunch of others. These are all acceptable audience subjects to top off your sentence. For instance you wouldn’t say “This pizza tastes good!” you would instead say “I enjoy the taste of this pizza” or “Everyone enjoys the taste of this pizza” the opinion/emotion needs to be applied to a source to make sense grammatically.

Quarter 2 (Green) is all about emotions and opinions. Chimeric language is an exchange of ideas but also importantly emotions and feelings. Q2 is dedicated to how the sentence is supposed to be interpreted or felt by the reader, as obviously in ‘spoken’ chimeric speaker and listener technically feel the same about what is currently being said. Listener opinion is very distinct from speaker and in writing the speaker takes priority. So for example the statement “Who finished the box but left it in the pantry?” would instead have to be translated into something akin to “I am pissed and questioning who had the audacity to finish the box and did not care enough to remove it from the pantry thus leaving me to find it and become disappointed?” Basically chimeric lends itself to very long translations due to their feelings.

Quarter 3 (Blue) is the action section of the sentence. The verbs if you will. This is where things are happening and is VERY tied in with Q1. Subjects in Q1 and Q2 will be linked together with lines that follow the same slice through the circle.

When a subject is linked to an action that means that the subject is the one performing the action, whereas subjects closer to the center and unaligned with an action are what is being acted upon. Like with the audience conundrum though an action needs a subject to actually act, whether it is an individual/s or an object or place. This is usually the least word heavy portion of the sentence as it is almost supplemental to Q1, and in contrast to the thin, crisp lines of the other quarters, Q3 will often be smudgey and more messy due to being written mostly with the back of the thumb.

Quarter 4 (Yellow) is generally not going to have any words written there, as it functions as the anchor point for the hand. The outmost finger rests here on the page to stabilize the hand as it closes during writing. When writing in a ream of papers this is where the hole to hold them all together is punched through. However in modern fanciful writing styles Q4 is also used as a secondary emotional quarter. This style will use Q4 as the reactionary emotion of the reader, more so the expected reaction and emotion from the reader. This is an EXTREMELY class based writing style and it is a GIANT NO NO to write like this for someone of higher status to read. Typically only Clan heads will freely use this writing style, especially towards each other lmao. The writing style of the passive aggressive power struggle.

All together Quarters are read at once! And I mean that there is no one word the chimera will start with. Every word of the sentence is absorbed at the same time, no following along a line like how I’m currently typing. But what indicates the order of which things are meant to be perceived is how close they are to the outside of the circle. Things closer to the center come later in the sentence and will be understood to be lower in the hierarchy of words. However only subjects and actions are directly linked to each other, emotion/opinion words are to have a more natural seep throughout the entirety of the sentence with only a loose idea of where they are to be felt. In this way while a subjects actions may be concrete, the writers feelings about them are more fluid and organic.

Chimeric conlang yay! I wanted to make modern Mirum script but decided I needed to start at the roots. So technically two written languages originate from Mirum, but they are extremely similar with one directly branching from the other. Chimeric is the original and Miran is the derivative, they mostly share characters but their sentence structure is different. Chimeric keeps the circular structure whereas Miran is a zigzagging horizontal and completely drops quarters 2 and 4. Leading to modern Miran being a very literal language vs Chimeric’s emotion heavy focus. But if you know one you can pretty much read the other, albeit with some culture shock.

#now i just have to make all the symbols hahaaha #chimera #mirum #conlang #worldbuilding #fantasy #language #chimeric #art #text #no true north

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untoldstar · 4 months

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male! yandere tentacle monster x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw content, non-consensual sex, obsessive behavior, yandere themes, stalking

The switch up between “it” “he” “they” might get confusing while reading but pls don’t be confused it doesn’t make much of a difference, it’s all the same. It switches a lot just to isolate what the tentacles do. The monster is referred to as “he”.

Further in the the shadows squelching sounds echo in the quiet room, the source unknown until they emerge, long and thick tentacles slowly slithering out of the shadows towards your bed unbeknownst to your peaceful sleeping form, they climb up the side of your bed moving closer and reaching for your figure, stilling as you stir in your sleep for a few more seconds before moving again.

The tentacle slowly leans towards your cheek, trembling slightly at the contact then moving down to your neck and dragging down your chest towards the blanket, gripping it and slowly dragging it down your body revealing the crop top and shorts you sleep in, it drags the blanket off leaving no part of you covered, dragging across the sheets up your leg and to your thighs caressing them, two other tentacles emerge from your left and right, trailing over your chest and gently brushing your hardening nipples through the fabric.

You groan squirming slightly in your sleep, another tentacles slides up your thigh caressing your inner thigh before moving to your center, rubbing your cunt through your shorts making a wet spot slowly form on them, it moves your shorts to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. A low satisfied growl echoing in your ear makes you frown in your sleep and stir even more, the tentacles slowly rubs your folds before sliding between them rubbing up and down your slit, the sound of your wetness overlapping with the ones of the tentacles sliding all over your body. You let out a quiet moan in your sleep “Wake up sweetheart..” You slowly start to stir awake at the deep voice echoing in your head. You look around to find the source of the voice even when sleep still clings on your eyelids. Your eyes are wide open and a gasp is caught in your throat when you take notice of the strange sensations all over your body, specifically the rubbing between your legs.

Long tentacles sliding all over your limbs, caressing, rubbing, squeezing, each one traveling further up your body almost getting caught up and tangled with each other. You felt like you were about to be consumed by them. Swallowed up and never let out. You let out a scream as you tug and pull your limbs away desperately trying to get out of their hold. you almost succeed in bolting out of your bed when you're yanked back by a new set of tentacles that seemed to emerge out of no where wrapping around your ankles, your hands being gripped tightly next and lifted above your head.

A cry escapes your throat and you continue flailing your limbs, shaking your head violently as tears stream down your face “Shh there’s no need to be scared.” The voice echoes in your head. Not beside you. Above you. No where. It feels like its coming from inside you. You turn your head in every direction searching for the source of the voice but the room is empty aside from all the tentacles that are menacingly crawling towards your bed “What the fuck are you- let me go!” Tears stream down your face and a tendril enters your line of sight to wipe your tears away, softly stroking your cheek “Don’t cry..why are you so frightened, little one? I'm not going to hurt you.” You turn you head again “Where are you?!” The voice doesn’t seem to be coming from a specific direction instead from the inside of your mind, it feels like you're going insane “I’m here with you of course. if it's my voice that's confusing you it is inside your mind. It will always be inside your mind. Always with you."

You let out a surprised gasp as the tentacles returned to rubbing your cunt. You instinctively try to close your legs but they're pried apart again and you feel the tentacles tighten even more around your thighs to keep you still “You’re putting up quite the fight but your sweet cunt is still dripping for me.” He applies more pressure on your clit drawing out a moan from you “What..are you?” You pant out, fear lacing your tone “I’m exactly what you need.” You feel tendrils sliding up your leg to the waistband of you shorts, sliding them down then moving down to spread your legs wider “What you want..” Your shirt is lifted over your head “What you dream of” Two tendrils travel up your stomach to your breasts wrapping around and squeezing your nipples. Your back arches as you feel your self get overwhelmed from being touched in so many places “And you..” He drawls out “Are mine.” He growls, the tentacle that was rubbing your clit now moves lower to tease your your hole “I’ve been watching you in the dark for a long time, pet. I’ve refrained from touching you all this time but no more.” It continues teasing, rubbing tantalizing circles “Stop-” Your protest is cut short when you feel the tip being pushed in “I can make you feel so good, little one. I will. Tell me you that you want me to make you feel good and I will. I’ll make you feel what you haven’t before, I’ll reach all those places no one can” He pushes the tip in then pulls out slowly over and over again until you almost push your hips to chase the pleasure. Almost.

Lust clouds your mind and you feel yourself slowly leaning into temptation, your previous repulsion now replaced with desire. You're already getting desperate, the pleasure all over your body overwhelming but not enough.

You need more.

You felt a wave of shame wash over you, you wanted to know what it would feel like to give in to him. Whatever he is exactly. You aren't completely sure. You swallow and close your eyes “I..I want you to make me feel good.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but your face flushes at the verbal confession. The tentacle starts to slowly moves deeper inside you. Your breathing stops as you focus on the new sensation. It stops suddenly and draws out. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. A frustrated whine escapes you “Do you want more? hm?” You nod quickly and hear a dark chuckle echo out “Of course I’ll give you more, anything for my little pet.” It pulls out one more time before plunging into your wet cunt drawing out a loud moan from you, it was thick and so fucking long, it was already going in so deep but it was still going like it wasn't planning on stopping “You clench around me so tightly. I knew your pretty little cunt would take me in so well.” You let out a string of moans, you feel your cunt being stretched out and with the tendrils groping your breasts, squeezing your hardened nipples and every single part of you body touched you already feel close, you jump and look down to see another tentacle moving down your stomach to your clit rubbing it before you feel suctioning on your clit “Ah! fuck- no..” It sucks harder “No?” You let out a sob “Too sensitive..” It rubs up and down your clit, each sucker pulling and letting it go with a pop each time the tentacle moves “But you want to cum don’t you?” You mumble incoherently as you nod “Then you can take it, pet. you can take me.” You nod again “That’s it..take it. Such a good pet. I'm never letting go of you.” The air gets knocked out of your lungs as you feel the tentacle reach the deepest part of you, you grind your hips helplessly as you feel yourself getting closer "You're getting close pet..I can feel it." The tentacles start moving in a speed that has you near sobbing and with your tits being groped an the sensation on your clit you're pushed over the edge cumming with your body writhing and your screams almost drowning out his own moans and growls of approval.

The fog in your brain doesn't fully clear even when the tentacles slow down and eventually come to a stop, even in your exhausted state you register the gentle caressing on your cheek "I'm never letting you go little one. You're all mine now."

#fem reader #male yandere monster #yandere oc #obsessive yandere #yandere tentacle monster #tentacle monster x reader #yandere tentacle monster x reader #yandere monster #monster oc #monster x reader #yandere #yandere fanfiction #tentacle monster

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dahliamalfoy97 · 1 year

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FEAST - Upper Moons, Muzan x Y/N reader

MuzanxKokushiboxDoumaxReader

Synopsis: Muzan calls for a meeting with the 3 Upper Moons and his wife is just s little greedy and Muzan decides to share her.

Warning: SMUT 18+ explicit content, slight dub con, group sex, rough sex, threesomes, choking, slapping, spanking, degradation kink, praise kink, slight blood kink, masochism, voyeurism? Monster kink, size kink, oral sex, mentions of kidnapping, murder,violence. So much going on in this.

A/N: first time writing a big group sex thing so it’s probably a bit cringey at times and it’s not edited so there’s probably lots of errors. I am such a simp for these four and have been trying to put them together the best I could. Anyways, hope you enjoy and don’t say I didn’t warn ya 😏

Word count: 7,102

"Y/N," Master Muzan calls from the dining hall, "please bring some of that wine out here."

You hurriedly, grab the bottle and a glass from the cabinet and rush out to the dining room. You freeze for a moment when you arrive. Noticing the Master isn't alone- there's 2 Upper Moon demons siting at the table, your master at the center while one of them sits at his left and the other at his right.

Moonstruck, you cautiously, approach the table, taking in all the guests in a mixture of awe and fear. These two were the real deal. demons after Muzan himself. They were all sitting in one room and you feel the powerful aura that emanated from each of them.

"I'm so sorry, Master, " you stutter, "I didn't realize we had guests, or I would have gotten more glasses."

"It's alright, little dove," Those crimson eyes meet your nervous ones, searing into your soul as usual, making you feel all sorts of flustered.

Master Muzan was the King of Demons. The one that commanded them all to do his bidding. He held the most power. He was also the Devil incarnate because he was able to create demons and to become more powerful he fed on humans. He had an unrivaled bloodlust and was cold to everyone around him. He was cunning, vicious and evil. To everyone but you.

You had been just a human girl, on the brink of starvation when he took you in. He originally was going to fatten you up to kill you, but he ended up finding comfort in your presence and ended up falling for you instead. Because most humans would have been disgusted and terrified of him. But you were willing to do anything to please him. Most demons like him - emotions capable of emotions like love. But you had made him feel much more powerful than his demon army could.

Naturally, you too had fallen in love with the Devil who had saved you. Call it Stockholm Syndrome if you will- but you willingly stayed after learning what he really was. After seeing the blood he shed and the lives he destroyed. You fell in love with the monster anyways.

"Well isn't she a delight?" One of the upper moons cooes, he was ethereal. Like an demon in angel's clothing. This was the vibe the demon gave. He had friendly and inviting smile on his face, but something in those rainbow irises told you it was probably just a mask of the true intent that hid underneath. The one that was full of malice and all things evil. He made you shiver at how someone demonic could look so heavenly. He had pale porcelain skin, and long locks of silvery blonde hair, that swept in all kinds of different directions.

"This is my wife, Y/N," Your Master, replies. "Little dove, this is Douma, he's Upper Rank 2."

You bow your head in respect, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"my my and she knows her manners too," he kisses your hand with his lips, his touch cold yet shivers automatically shoot down your spine. Something about this demon intrigued you and you wanted so desperately to know the devil underneath those rainbow eyes.

"Lord Douma, if you could please keep your hands to yourself," Muzan warns.

"But I mean she just looks so exquisite- it's shame she's your wife. I'd claim her for myself in an instant."

"You're disgusting," another Upper Moon mumbles to the left of Douma. "Have some fucking respect."

This demon had a more serious aura about him, he seemed more pissed off that he was here. He had hair the color of magenta and eyes like seemed to glow like the sun. His skin was a cool gray hue that had blue lines marking his skin and the rest of his body. He was well defined, as had an open purple vest that exposed his torso. You so desperately wanted to trace all those lines on his chest to see how deep they ran.

"Oh calm down, Pink Head, I'm just paying the lovely lady with some compliments."

"You never have genuine compliments," The Pink haired Upper Moon hisses. "or genuine intentions."

You can't help but giggle at their little banter. All three pairs of eyes focusing on you when you do. You can't help but feel a little shy being at the focus of all these powerful demons. Handsome ones at that.

"She giggled," The Pink Haired Demon says, sounding surprised. "Has she no fear of being around us?"

Muzan looks at you with adoration, "no, my little dove is quite fearless."

"Amazing," Douma wonders, "and she's so fûcking cute too."

Suddenly the doors to the dining room burst open, and the air shifts. As if it was a sunny day and the thunder decided to roll in. This is power this demon had. He had the most intimidating presence of all. He was very tall and muscular, taller than the rest of the demons here. His hair fell into black luscious waves, the ends dipped in a deep red. But it was his eyes that made you tremble. Six pairs of eyes the color of the moon- his scleras a deep red that matched the tips of his hair. He was beautiful in such an intimidating way. If you weren't currently married to Muzan, you'd be falling in your knees in an instant for this man.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Douma taunts, earning a cold glare from the demon.

Something inside you quivered which each step he took. His purple and black checkered kimono billows behind him.

"Kokushibo, you're late," Muzan adds.

"I was busy," the demon finally replies and oh his voice is enough to make you press your thighs together.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You were married to the most powerful demon of all and yet you were craving these demons just as much.

The newcomer- Kokushibo. Who you knew from the character that was stained on his iris- that he was the Upper Rank One, took a seat the other end of the table.

"Well now that everyone is here, we can finally start this meeting, little dove, do you mind getting some more glasses ? "

"Of course, Master," when you looked in those crimson eyes there was a knowing smirk there and you exit the dining room in a flash.

While you're in the kitchen, you can't help but sneak a hand underneath the folds of your skirt, past your panties and feel your arousal dripping.

The amount of power in that dining room had you soaked to the core, flustered and embarrassed at the lewd images that filled your head, you hastily pull your skirt back down and grab the glasses from the cabinet.

Being a little short, you struggle to reach some of them, you try to climb the cabinet but a hand snakes around your waist, pining you between the counter and his backside. "Careful, little one, you're going to injure yourself." He reaches up to grab the glasses for you and places them in your hands, his pale large veiny hands covering your small ones completely.

"Thank you, Lord Douma," you say, a little breathless at the way he was holding you. You could feel something against your backside.

"No problem, little one, I'd be happy to help you in any way," He whispers seductively in your ear, his voice is soft and melodic but the way he speaks, has your nipples straining against the fabric of the flimsy gown you wore.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the meeting?" You murmur as you feel a hand creep under your skirt.

"I am but I excused myself for the bathroom, sometimes a man has needs to attend to," his hand traces circles along your thigh before reaching the outline of your panties. "I know your Muzan's, but fuck, I can't keep my eyes off you. I want to devour you so badly but my curiosity for you and what you'd feel like around my cock, overshadows that and I want nothing more than to have a little taste of you," he tugs your ear between his teeth causing you you whine softly, his fingers dip into your panties and begin to rub your clit. "Did you know all of us demons have a heightened sense of smell, so I can smell your sweetness from across the room. And I just gotta have it."

"But I'm Muzan's," you protest lamely, arching your back as the circles on your clit quicken.

He laughs into your ear, "that's not what your sopping cunt says right now. Akaza was right. I'm not a man with good intentions. I take what I want, when I want."

With a wicked glint in his, he inserts a finger into your hole, he groans lightly at the way your finger just sinks him in, "so fucking wet for pussy that belongs to someone else."

You shamelessly begin to grind yourself againt him as he begins to fuck you his finger.

"Look at you, grinding on me like a needy slut," Douma cooes, while adding a second finger, scissoring them to stretch out your gummy walls. Soon a third finger is added, and you're a sopping mess as he curls them upward immediately finding the spot that makes you scream. "Careful now, don't want your husband to hear you, or maybe you do."

All you can do is whine as he fucks you brutally with his fingers, you hear some rustling, and then your panties are being ripped down, and something hard is poking at your entrance. As soon as it pierces your walls, you let out a wail. The stretch burns and Douma gives you no chance to adjust to his curved long cock as he brutally pistons into you. Your still wedged between him and the counter so there's no room for you to move. Your completely trapped and helpless against his assault on your body.

"Fuck. So. Damn. Tight," he moans in your ear.

You could feel every scrape and every vein of his throbbing cock hammering into you, he was much longer than Muzan was and seemed to reach places deeper, and perhaps it was the precarious position you were in but all you could feel was him.

"Don't stop," you cry, you knew it was wrong for letting Douma fuck you, but it felt too good that you couldn't resist submitting to his control.

"Don't worry, Dollface," he pulls your ass out so it's angled and you have more room to move. You finally can glance down at where your connected, his balls slapping against your skin, that you knew would leave bruises with how hard they were slapping. His thrusts were relentless, animalistic. The counter's edges dig into your skin with each thrust.

Muzan has his rough tendencies, but this was another level, and you were overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure.

Douma's hands travel to your covered breasts and he cups them in his large hands giving time a squeeze.

"You keep clenching around me and I'm going to cum sooner than we both want. Although maybe I should use you for my own personal cum dump, and just take what I want from you."

You're so incoherent at this point that all the comes out of your mouth is strangled garbles, which turns into a whimper when he wraps a hand around you throat to cut off your airway.

"But unfortunately we can't take as long as we want, because your husband is probably wondering where we are," he just continues to babble in your ear.

The possible reminder of Muzan catching you with Douma, made you even more aroused than it should. You clamp around his cock at the thought, which causes him to fuck you harder. You could feel your stomach coiling he continued to pound into that one spot. He kept playing with your airway, with each thrust of his cock he would squeeze and then let go.

"Fuck, Douma, I'm close," you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"So am I, your pussy is amazing, I want to kidnap you and keep you for my own. Muzan is a lucky motherfucker."

His thrusts become slower more torturous as if to draw out your agonizing orgasm, which was desperate for release. You were about to lose it if you didn't cum soon. The ache was too much. Too overwhelming.

"Please Douma, let me cum," you beg.

He laughs, "You can beg better than that."

you pout, but that instantly changes when his speed picks up again, rocking your body with his, "FUCK DOUMA LET ME CUM PLEASE."

He cackles, his rainbow irises bright with amusement, "if Muzan comes in here because of that we are both dead."

"I don't care," you hiss, pushing yourself back on his cock trying to get more.

"Well go ahead then, cum slut, make a mess on my cock," Douma encourages. "If you're the desperate to. I think you're just too drunk on my cock to not care about anything else."

His mocking tone along with his greedy thrusts, has you coming undone.

"That's it, make a mess for Douma," he grins madly, before thrusting a few more times before exploding inside you. You both watch in satisfaction as his cum fills you up. "Looks so pretty with my cum." He grabs something behind him and shoves it into your pussy, making sure his cum doesn't leak out.

"Shit Douma, what if Muzan sees?"

The haze of sex has lifted and you're reminded of what you had just done. But there's no shame or remorse on Douma's face and you sure don't regret a single thing.

"Well if Muzan finds out we're both dead, but it was worth it. Come let's go back to the meeting I'm sure he's wondering where both of us went."

Douma leaves you and you hastily follow after. Arriving at the dining room.

"Sorry, Master Muzan i must have had an upset stomach, one of the girls I ate today before coming here must have messed me up," his rainbow irises have disappeared into crescent moons as he takes his seat next to Akaza.

How could he act like nothing happened just now? Meanwhile, you could feel his cum still inside you, and your cheeks were probably flushed. You had no idea how you looked right now.

As soon as Muzan's scarlet cat eyes land on you, you see that familiar glint in them, and you know he knows.

He was the Demon King after all, he knew everything.

"Little dove, did you forget the glasses as I asked for you to get for our guests?"

His tone is calm, but there's an underlying of a mocking tone.

Shivers immediately go done your spine as you bow in a frenzy, "I'm so sorry, Master I- I don't know how I could have forgotten. I'll go back and get them."

"What a bad girl," Muzan tsks. "You forgot something so simple? I wonder why that is."

"Muzan- I-"

"Y/N come here."

You freeze he never uses your actual name unless it's for a punishment. Ashamed you walk over to where Muzan is sitting, but it's a little hard to with Douma's cock nearly damaging you just moments ago. Whom had a smug grin on his face.

"Muzan-"

"Shut the fuck up and turn around," you shiver at cold and calm his tone was. But you obey nonetheless.

Muzan pushes you against the table, your front side digging into the edge. He pushes up the hem of your skirt and your cheeks immediately heat. All of the demons in this room could see your naked ass. But before you could look to see what their reactions are like, a hand comes down on your ass hard, you jolt at the sudden harsh sting. You look back at those scorching scarlet orbs that seemed to burn into you. Fingers graze your swollen pussy, that's stuffed with your underwear."

"Looks like you've been having too much fun with one of my demons," Muzan states, flashing a glare at Douma before glaring at you again. He tugs the cloth out for your pussy and you cry feeling the liquid drip out of you.

"Douma you just can't control yourself can you?" Akaza scolds and you hear a sudden slash. You turn to see Douma's head being split in half. Akaza's hand covered in his blood. You grimace at the sudden violence but a slap against your ass steals your attention.

"Of course he couldn't," Muzan chastises, "how could he resist such a slutty pussy? Especially when it belongs to me?"

"Because it's fûcking paradise, that pussy is," Douma's melodic voice is back and you see that he's regenerated looking as bright as ever.

"Did he fuck you good?" Muzan inquiries, ignoring the Upper 2, his focus entirely on you and your flushed cheeks and the way Douma's cum oozes out of your glistening cunt. "Looks like he did if you let him cum in you."

You're at a loss for words.

He suddenly grips your throat yanking your had back, choking you slightly, making you look at only him, "fucking answer me, slut!"

"Y-yes," you sob, "He fucked me really good."

He chuckles darkly, "perhaps I should let them all fuck you. Huh? Would you like that? Because you're such a slut my cock isn't enough to satisfy you? So you must have them all."

"Muzan-" you try to plead but suddenly your mouth is being stuffed with something wet. Your arousal pools when you realize it's your panties that's wet with yours and Douma's cum. The stench of sex fills your nostrils.

"Shut the fuck up and get on the fucking table."

Trembling out of embarrassment and arousal you climb on the table, your legs shaking.

Before you can situate yourself, Muzan is flipping you over on your back, and drags your head over the edge, letting it hang. Your legs are spread wide letting all the upper moons getting a view of your exposed cunt.The panties in your mouth are being yanked out and replaced with something hot, thick and heavy. Before you have a chance to process, it's being rammed down your throat without any warning.

Muzan looks at you with a sadistic grin as he plows his cock into your mouth. You could feel the blood rushing to your head making you light headed in this position. But he didn't care to stop at your precarious situation. For Muzan wasn't a kind man when he had to punish. His punishments were cruel and brutal. But never to you. That's why you were so shocked but aroused at his sudden cruelty. Saliva and his precum coated your tongue and dripped out of your mouth, as his balls slapped against your chin.

"What a pathetic little cock whore you are," Muzan mocks, as his cock continues tearing into your throat constantly hitting the back of it. "Who wants a turn with my whore's pussy first?"

"Don't mind if I do," you hear Douma say from somewhere, but your mind is too fuzzy. If you were human, you would have died from getting throatfucked in this position with how hard Muzan was abusing it. You wouldn't be able to talk after this for awhile or ever again if he continued. Suddenly, you feel hands spreading your legs apart, a cold breath hits your aching cunt and when the first flick of a tongue meets your folds, you buck your hips at feeling causing Muzan's cock to hit the back of your throat harshly. A chuckle sounding like Douma's tickles your dripping hole, causing you to flutter. You lose it when that tongue begins swirling your clit. Despite his cold breath Douma's tongue was hot and consuming against your pussy lips sending you into immediate overdrive with the urgent yet hungry way he eats you out. He holds your hips with his hands to keep you from squirming. Becoming a prisoner to his delicious assault. His fingers splay your wet lips open, making it easier to that sweet spot. His slurping noises have you screaming . You weave your fingers into those silky, soft silver locks and push him in as deep as can go.

"You taste so fucking sweet, Doll," Douma hums against your folds. His feasting on you is relentless. The way he swirls and sucks on your clit has you falling apart within seconds. But he doesn't stop when you've cum on his face already he just keeps going. Your thighs shaking as he guides you through another orgasm.

Meanwhile, Muzan is still violently fucking your throat, you could feel every vein of his hard cock as he repeatedly slams into you. It grows heavier against your throat and you knew he was close by the low-yet strained grunts coming from the Demon King above, but before you get the chance to feel his seed down your throat. He's yanking your head off and hot cum sprays your face instead. When you whine in protest, he interrupts, "coming down your throat would be a reward for you. I'm not sure you deserve the reward yet."

Douma, removes himself from your pussy, he guides you up into a sitting position, his face is soaked in your juices, you your lips at the sight.

"So delicious," he praises, before pulling you forward, he reaches for you face and brings you into a hungry, demanding kiss. His lips cold yet, hot at the same time. Tasting your arousal his tongue as he swirls it with yours. You shamelessly lock your arms around him bringing him closer so that you're in his lap, straddling him. You grind yourself on his clothed erection, causing him to coo in your ear. "Such a messy girl, you're making such a mess on my pants. Does it drive you crazy knowing that the four most powerful demons are watching you make a mess on me? Watching you turn into a dirty, greedy, little whore? Hmm?"

You turn into mush at his soft voice that's filled with such lewd words, you continue grinding on him, feeling his massive length under you.

"Yes, Douma."

He chuckles, leaning back lazily watching you fall apart in his lap, while he was doing nothing to help you.

"Look at your girl becoming a slut for another," Douma smirks at a glowering Muzan. You blink your eyes open and meet those scorching scarlet ones. Making you even more turned on. He was currently sitting in his chair, leaned back while stroking himself. His black curls sticking to his face from sweat. A feline, predatory look in the way he stares at you, while you're getting yourself off in another man's lap has you become more frantic- more bold. More needy.

"Yes because that's all she is. Is a good little whore for us demons to ruin."

You moan, gripping Douma's neck, glancing around the room at the others. Akaza was looking disgusted and aroused at the same time. As if fighting an eternal storm in his brain. But the noticeably large tent in his pants said otherwise. His golden eyes meet yours and you beckon him with your finger.

"Come join us, Akaza," you plead. Kokushibo on the other hand was much harder to read. He gave nothing away in those moon colored orbs as those six eyes stared at you with an intensity so strong but it was cold and indifferent at the same time.

"Yeah Koku and Akaza, am I only one going to indulge in this sweet pussy or are you guys going to join?"

"I have no interest," Koku hisses, but his eyes never shift from yours.

"I don't want to share with you," Akaza bites back. "I fucking hate you, rainbow child. "

"But it's not for me, it's for her."

"Plus it's my orders to get to know what's mine," Muzan adds. "And what you'll never get to experience again after this."

"More the reason for me not to join," Koku growls. "Why would I join if I can't keep her all to myself?"

"Because I want you too, Daddy," you plead.

Something in those six eyes flashes, something dangerous that coils in your gut, you come on Douma's lap making a mess, "good job, little one."

"You have no idea what you're asking of me," Koku warns.

"He's a coward then," Douma taunts, flashing the Upper One a charming smile, as he sheds out of his clothes, your jaw dropping as his body was revealed. Douma had a well toned physique his muscles were exquisite and smooth, broad shoulders and a slim waist. Your eyes traveled this cock that you hasn't been able to see before when he was fucking you with it in the kitchen. It was massively long with a slight curve. A good ten inches. You bet. And it stood red and angry against his taut stomach as crisscrossed his legs and brought you back into his lap, not wasting a moment guiding his long shaft into your awaiting heat. You wrap your legs around him, this position was new something you'd never done with Muzan. Every part of Douma was flushed with you. Your tits slapped against his bare chest you rode him in this position. Every inch of his cock was deep and snug against your slick walls. He lets out a strangled moan when you take your nails down his back. There was no telling where you ended and where he started. And you both loved it. He dug his sharp nails into your hips, trying to pull you in deeper.

"Fuck," you both moan, you throw your head back, in pure utter bliss. Reveling in the way he dug into your hole, how every vein and every crevice seemed to scrape along yours. You were sure he was all the way in your stomach.

"You feel so snug and warm against me Doll," Douma praises, his nails digging in deeper. Drawing a little blood causing you to arch into him. "Those idiots don't know what they're missing out on."

A low growl comes from Koku.

"Your blood is just a pretty as you are," Douma grins manically, he brings one of his hands that's covered in your blood. Before bringing it to his mouth. Those usually bright eyes instantly darken and turn feral, the sight of him tasting your blood has you sobbing in pure pleasure. He shoves one into your mouth causing you to choke around his fingers. You instantly taste the metallic taste on your tongue. "Don't you taste divine, little one? Fuck, I might just steal you away from Muzan. I'm too fucking addicted to everything about you. You are so fucking perfect for me. The perfect little doll who takes whatever I give you. don't you all want a taste?"

His words and his actions send you into a frenzy mess and it's not long before your spasming around him, clamping down on him as your orgasm takes over.

"Fuck Douma," you scream.

"I love it when you scream my name," Douma says ever so softly.

Before you have a chance to breathe, you're being pulled off of Douma's cock, you cry at the sudden emptiness. But strong arms whip you around, and without warning a new cock it's a little shorter than Douma's but it is thick, and it's girth is ravenous as it enters you, your head is being pushed down on Douma's lap. His still hard cock being shoved in your face, he just smirks and lifts your head.

"Took you long enough to join us, Pink Head."

"Shut the fuck up, Rainbow Shit," Akaza seethes as he rams into you from behind. His marked hands grip your hips, as he rocks forward into you. Your whole body is jerking at the sudden abruptness. "It's my fucking turn. So let me fuck the bitch."

"Ohmygodohmygod," you cry, "Akazaaaa, you feel incredible."

His cock split you open perfectly. You eagerly took his length in.

"Damn, who pissed you off pinky?" Douma teases, looking at you with a mischievous grin. His long fingers grip your chin and pries your mouth open, his other hand strokes his cock. He smacks teases your half opened lips with the tip, smearing precum on your face. "Open your mouth, little one."

You open up wide, he dutifully shoves your head down on his cock, you hollow your cheeks and slacken your jaw to help take him in. But he didn't really you a chance to adjust as he forced your head up and down his long shaft. Akaza's harsh thrusts causing for Douma's cock to bump down your throat even deeper. Everything felt so good. You'd never felt so used in your life and you were loving every inch of it.

"Now there's a good slut," Douma taunts, "my own personal cocksleeve. Is there anything you can't do?"

"How are you feeling little dove ?" Muzan suddenly calls out, sounding amused. "You're looking quite stuffed there."

To be honest, with the other two demons currently using you for their pleasure you had forgotten about your husband.

"Her mouth is too stuffed with my cock, Muzan, she's not going to answer you," Douma chants.

"Douma you talk too fucking much!" Akaza snaps, his hips snapping in response and then everything falls silent.

Except for skin on skin, and the lewd moans and slurping sounds that filled the room. The three of you were way to into this situation.

"That's it, bitch," Akaza growls as you begin to spasm around his cock. "Squeeze me just like that."

Meanwhile Kokushibo was as silent as ever. His moon colored eyes watching with unnerving intensity. He didn't know what he wanted. He knew he wanted you. But he hated everyone else in this room and didn't like the idea of having to share you with any of them. His cock was painfully hard under his kimono. His knuckles where white and gripping the edge of his seat. But watching how the mess the other demons turned you in, listening to your sweet moans and listening to how wet you were, it was driving him mad.

"Fuck,"' you managed in between having Douma's cock down your throat. "Don't fucking stop. Please Akaza."

"Don't worry, I won't stop until your leaking full of my cum."

Fuck. You were so overwhelmed. The pleasure was unbearable.

You came in white waves, just as Douma's load shot in your mouth.

"Good girl," Douma grins when you swallow all of it.

Not long after Akaza releases in your sensitive cunt with a low grunt, milking it all the way through til the last drop til he pulls out.

You fall into a heap on the table, completely covered in cum. Your whole body ached.

"If you truly want me to fuck you, Princess," Kokushibo suddenly speaks up, "you better crawl to me. And I'm not sharing you with anyone. You're all mine to fuck alone. Understood?"

Douma chuckles, "I don't think she can move, Koku."

"I understand, Daddy."

He chuckles deep and low, sending shivers down your spine.

"Now come to me," he orders.

Slowly, you sit up and get on your hands and knees. Your whole body aches, your drenched in come. But you want nothing more than to be fucked by the Upper 1. Ever since he walked through those doors. There was something about him that made you want to kneel before him and do whatever he asked of you. So you crawl. You feel the others watching you in silence. Even Douma is silent. Kokushibo's eyes never leave yours as you finally reach his end.

He stands up, and fuck, is he tall. He towers over everyone here, he grips your chin with his hands, making you look at only him. Those six eyes burn into every inch of you, "you better pray that you can handle everything I give you. Because I won't hold back. None of these idiots can compare to how I'll make you feel. Not even Muzan. I'll sweep you off your feet," he whispers so no one else but you can hear him. He glances up in the direction of Muzan, as he removes his clothes.

And holy shit is he built by the gods. Now not built by the gods. He is a god. Made of pure muscle. Pure power and pure dominance radiated from this demon. As if he was carved from stone. Not a single inch of him was flawed. You wanted to lick those abs. The flame pattern that he had on his face went down to his chest. Making him look even more exquisite. Your eyes shamelessly rake down to his rock hard cock. Or could you even call it that. It was bigger than anyone else's here. And it was thick. Long, thick and you knew it was going to break you.

"Fucking hell, Kokushibo, I might even be gay for you," Douma replies.

"Okay everyone out. Except for Y/N and Muzan. The other two I want you gone."

"But-"

"So selfish, don't you know sharing is caring-"

Douma is cut off by Akaza dragging him by the hair.

"From here on out, you're mine. With the permission of Muzan-"

"Oh you really think I'm just going to hand her over to you?" Muzan laughs darkly. "She's mine, she was mine before she was yours."

"Why don't you both just fuck me and stop this overbearing egotistical shit?" I ask. "If you both want me, then you have me."

" I don't share," Kokushibo seethes. "I would literally start a war to make you mine."

"But so would I," Muzan replies.

You roll your eyes.

"Well let's just see who fucks you better," Koku challenges.

"Sure," Muzan replies coldly. "Go ahead and give it your best."

"Lay down and spread those legs for me, Princess," Koku demands.

You immediately obey him, and watch him as he stalks towards you. He bends down and closes the distance between your lips. A wildfire burns through you at the intensity of his lips. The way he seemed to command and consume your lips. You barely could breath. You let out a moan when he nipped your bottom lip. His hands start to roam your body, and yours could barely grip onto his back. You were so small in comparison to him. But you were determined to feel every ridge. He begins to fondle your breasts, playing and kneading them like dough. You were nothing but putty in his hands. You reach for his cock, but he slaps your hand away.

"Fuck, Koku," you say breathlessly. "I need you now. Please."

"Patience," he hisses, his lips leave yours and starts leaving trailing down your neck. You arch into him when he begins sucking marks into your skin. He continues you mark and map you with his mouth, until he stops just right where you want him. Over your throbbing pussy. Which was still sensitive from the other demons, so you knew he was going to truly ruin you. He runs a finger along your slick seams and you hitch in a breath. "I love how you're still begging to be used after Douma and Akaza had their way with you. I guess you're not fucked properly enough if you can still crawl to me. Don't worry, Princess I'll fix that little problem for you."

He slowly inserts a long finger, groaning at the way you immediately suck him in. "Even though you've already been fucked by the others, you still need to be prepared to take me. Because I am much bigger than they are."

"Fuck," you whimper.

After prodding you with one finger he adds another and then a third. Scissoring open your gummy walls. He wastes no time curling them upwards and finding your spot. Jabbing them slowly, teasing you. You arch your back, but something stops you and pins you still. Muzan has joined in. But he's in his true demon form. With his white curly hair, and tentacles sprouting from his back. His tentacles are straining your arms, leaving you utterly immobile.

"You're so greedy fucking all my demons today. What, you want them all? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?"

"Y-you are enough i - I just-" you scramble for words, but you're slapped in the face, Kokushibo's mouth finally descends on your clit. " Lies!" Muzan growls at the same time you scream out " aww fuck!"

Kokushibo's tongue delves into every crevice, sucking while he still fucks you on his fingers. You eagerly grind on him, for more friction. Needing and wanting more.

"Koku, don't stop!" You cry.

Muzan leans over you and shoves his cock down your throat again. At the same time you feel yourself being stretched. No- ripped. You scratch the table since your arms are still pinned by Muzan's tentacles. Kokushibo wastes no time hammering his monster cock into you, greedily taking you however he wants. Muzan's cock plunges into your mouth with the same carnal desire.

"Such a good little toy," Muzan says. "Isn't she Kokushibo?"

But he ignores and focuses his attention on where your bodies meet. He could see the outlines of his cock in your stomach. The table was creaking underneath all the weight. Both demons destroyed and ravaged your body in the most inhuman way, none of them caring about how tired battered was becoming. It was a lewd sight. Truly insane. One of Muzan's tentacles curls around your body and down your clit. Sucking on it as Kokushibo's thrusts become harder, deeper.

You mumble incoherent moans around Muzan's cock. Your vision was becoming blurry, your body numb from all the attention it was receiving.

Another tentacle plays at your other entrance, the wet muscle teasing the rim of your opening.

"See you can own her pussy," Muzan states confidently, "but I own her entire body. Including her soul."

With that the tentacle pushes into your hole. Muzan pulls out of your mouth to let you scream. Choking you with his hands. You come instantly. Your body is being overwhelmed the pleasure was starting to hurt because you've come countless of times tonight, you didn't even know how many. But your body was reaching its limit. But you didn't want them to stop. All your holes are being filled and there wasn't an inch of you that belonged to you anymore. You were theirs. Their plaything.

"Shut the fuck up, Muzan!" Kokushibo warns.

Muzan just laughs, and sobers up when he notices how dizzy you're looking, "you okay, little dove? Do you need us to stop?"

Kokushibo slows a bit, caressing your face, "we'll stop princess, if you need us too."

You shake your head, "no... I'm fine."

Kokushibo picks you up, taking you into his arms, kissing you softly, his length still pounding upwards into you while you cling to him like a koala.

"Please don't stop, koku. I want you to come in me," you whine. Muzan is suddenly at your back. Your sandwiched in between the two most powerful demons, and you couldn't be more at peace.

"Lift her for me," Muzan commands softly. Kokushibo doesn't fight this time, he grips your ass with his massive hands a lifts you up, Muzan's tip nudges your other entrance before easing his way in. You whine at the sudden stretch of both men inside you. Both with big cocks and big egos. They take turns hammering into you. You grab Koku by the neck and pull him in for a sloppy, kiss. Moaning into his mouth. He kisses you back with as much fervor.

“fuck don’t stop you guys,” you plead, before pulling away from Koku. Muzan grabs you by the chin and claims your mouth with his you grip his white silky locks, tugging on them as he devours your mouth possessively.

You could feel your orgasm approaching and by the way both cocks were growing inside you, and hips were starting to stutter, you could tell both demons were close.

“Koku- Muzan - I’m close.”

“Makes a mess, Princess,” Kokushibo encourages gruffly, “make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

“Little dove, cum for Master,” Muzan growls.

“I want us to come together, fill me up, please.”

“Alright,” Muzan says.

A few more thrusts and clenching around them, you throw your head back onto Muzan’s chest as both men fill both your holes up with cum at the same time.

“Awww fuck,” you all say unison when you’re being pulled off and cum gushes out.

“That is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen,” Muzan says.

But you’re eyes are drifting shut.

“I’ll have make you a mandatory part of our meetings from now on,” Muzan says, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“I hope you understand I’m not letting her go now,” Kokushibo warns. “She’s mine now too.”

Muzan rolls his eyes, lifting you into his arms.

“Well then how about she’s all of ours,” Douma appears with Akaza in tow.

“I don’t share,” Kokushibo snaps, “I will kill you all to have her to myself.”

“And I definitely don’t want to share her with you, Rainbow Shit.”

Douma pouts, “I thought we all just had a bonding moment. We’re friends now you and I.”

In a blink of an eye, Akaza swipes Douma’s head in half.

“You and I will never be friends.”

“How rude,” Douma sighs as he’s once again regenerated. “ I am seriously offended,” he puts a hand over his chest.

“You’re all lucky I let you indulge in MY WIFE,” Muzan reminds them harshly. “Next time I might not be so kind.”

“Guys can you all stop fighting over me?“ you murmur sleepily on Muzan’s lap. Still naked. Kokushibo grabs his kimono and places it over you to cover you up. “What if I want all of you?”

All eyes snap to you, all demons growl. Even Douma is annoyed.

“Sweetheart we are demons, we don’t share with others. We take what we want from others even if that means killing,” Douma explains. “ and us four demons specifically each other’s guts.”

“Fine, then I want none of you then,” you hiss.

“No!” Kokushibo snaps, “ you want all of us? Then fine. We’ll agree to your wishes if it makes you happy. “

“That’s if we don’t kill each other first,” Akaza pipes in.

“No promises,” Douma smirks.

"All right, little dove, you win-“ suddenly Muzan’s head is beheaded falling to the floor with a thud. Kokushibo is standing behind, before stealing you from the demon king, then before anyone can react.

Kokushibo vanishes with you in his arms.

“I believe this will definitely start a war Koku,” you protest.

“I don’t care, we both know the minute I walked through those doors, that you were mine.”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, but you didn’t mind. He was right he stole you away from Muzan the minute he walked through those doors.

“So where are you taking me, Koku?” Pulling caressing his face softly.

He looks down at you with a warm smile, “I’m taking you home, with me. Where you belong.”

2K notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 3 months

Text

There's someone inside my head | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is targeted by a certain ghost during the filming of the Sam and Colby ft. Sturniolo Triplets video.

Requested?: Yes, from anon.

Warning: Paranormal, supernatural, ghosts, mediumship, physical injury, pain.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: I will definitely post more x reader based on the video between Sam and Colby and the triplets! It's so fun to write them.

PS. 2: This one happens in the same "universe" of this Matt Sturniolo x Reader of mine.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Wow, the smell of roses in here has gotten stronger." Matt commented as soon as Colby closed the large door behind them, lifting his chin slightly as he smelled the strong scent of flowers.

It was time to investigate the Maximillian room, which was on the mezzanine; the room that held eight mirrors surrounded by gold that cost way too much and a painting of Empress Carlota, who, according to legend, was there because of those same mirrors, as they were gifts from her husband at the time.

And it was precisely because of her that Y/N was feeling so anxious. From the moment the hotel guides took them to there while showing them all the main haunted rooms in the building, the girl felt strange.

Because Y/N was a medium and was aware of it since she was a child - consequently training her "skill" as she grew up -, her sensations with the supernatural were duplicated and very accurate; Not only could she see, hear and feel the presences, but she could also feel what came with them and the weight of each one.

That's why, on her first trip to the room, she quickly found Carlota, who surprisingly allowed the girl to see her, but Y/N wished she hadn't. Carlota was beautiful, exactly as in her painting, still dressed in classical clothes, but her eyes carried so much anguish. Contrary to the hope of Audrey - their main guide -, Carlota did not appear to have found peace in the afterlife.

But what surprised Y/N, or scared her the most, was the hatred in the ghost's eyes, and strangely, this hatred was directed only at her.

Upon stepping into that room for the second time that night, the girl felt nausea rise from her stomach to her throat, swallowing hard; Her heart raced stupidly fast and the hair on her arms and legs stood up, raising goose bumps on her skin. A weight settled on her shoulders and the back of her neck, making her feel as if any sudden movement would send her straight to the ground.

Her hands shook slightly as her eyes swept the room. She focused her senses better, being able to capture several spirits coming and going from one mirror to another, reminding her of the portals created by them. Y/N felt the pain, sadness, anger, and melancholy of each of the ghosts, her throat becoming dry and her eyes burning with tears. She felt overwhelmed.

"Baby? Hey, what happened?" Matt's soft voice close to her ear woke her from her intense trance, her eyes meeting the blue ones that kept her grounded.

Y/N noticed that the others were a little further away and already in the center of the room, talking to each other while Sam arranged the camera to record the investigation. She was internally grateful that Matt had come to her unnoticed without attracting attention from the others.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed. This place has a horrible atmosphere." Y/N responded in the same soft tone as her boyfriend, keeping her eyes fixed on his, trying to convey confidence.

"If I'm feeling the burden in these walls, I can only imagine what you're feeling, dove. I promise I'll be by your side the whole time, and if it gets too much, let me know, and we'll leave right away." The boy spoke, taking Y/N's right hand with his left one, squeezing lightly. Y/N smiled in gratitude. She was so lucky to have him with her.

"So Carlota likes compliments and flirting?" Colby's deep voice caught the couple's attention while asking the rhetorical question. Y/N and Matt looked up at the others, seeing Sam already with the camera on and passing the lens along the decorated walls surrounding them.

Matt turned off the light on the switch near the door as previously agreed before they approached the others, ready to start what they needed to do there.

"Hey Carlota, here we have five fine men, but only three are single and available for you." Matt spoke first while settling close to his brothers, his eyes scanning the space completely despite being able to see practically nothing through the darkness.

Y/N followed his action, sweeping her eyes around her and the ghosts there, internally trying to focus only on Carlota's spirit. She kept her right hand intertwined with Matt's, not wanting to let go of his warmth, knowing that he was the only one who could keep her under control in that situation.

"Can you see her, Cole Sear?" Nick asked Y/N, crossing his arms and looking at the girl with a curious gaze, who nodded after rolling her eyes momentarily at the reference to the movie Six Senses, smiling sideways.

Nick was scared to death of watching horror movies, but he loved it when Y/N watched them all and then told him the story.

"I can, but I can also see several other ghosts that probably have nothing to do with the hotel's history and are only here because of the portals. I'm trying to just focus on her."

Colby and Chris started throwing random pick-up lines into thin air, trying to attract the Empress's ghost. Their words made Y/N let out a low laugh, they were ridiculous.

After a significant effort, Y/N finally managed to clear all the ghosts in the room from her mind, being able to see only Carlota. The woman stood a few steps away, her eyes on Colby and Chris as she held an elegant and calm posture, an arrogant smile on her face, probably satisfied with all the attention.

But that changed when she realized that Y/N saw her completely now, her empty eyes going to the girl, a flame of anger and disdain shining behind them, seeming to penetrate Y/N's eyes and run throughout her mind.

The girl's hands flew to her own head almost instantly, pressing down on each side as her body arched slightly forward, a growl escaping her throat as her knees shook, weakened by the sudden pain.

Matt had never moved so fast, his body positioned in front of his girlfriend's as his hands held her arms, which were more tense than ever before, her own fingers tangling in strands of her loose hair, pulling hard while trying to stop the intense pain of the sudden migraine.

"Y/N? Baby, talk to me. What's... What's going on?" Matt spoke in a desperate tone, his eyes going from his girlfriend to the boys repeatedly, hoping they would have some kind of response.

Nick and Chris ran to the two, positioning themselves on either side of Y/N, choosing not to touch her so as not to worsen her overload but showing that they were there for her.

"It must be some spirit that is messing with her, perhaps trying to attack her or, at worst, control her." Colby commented, approaching as well as his eyes traveled around the dark room, looking for any clue as to what it was, even if he couldn't see anything.

Sam lowered the camera, the lens focusing on his feet as he too approached. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, the blonde knew well what it was like to be attacked by spirits, and if he could, he would put an end to what Y/N was feeling at that very moment.

"Matt." Y/N let out in a pained groan, an intense pressure establishing in her right arm, as if something was holding, or rather crushing the region. She lifted her left hand, placing it on Matt's right shoulder while trying to find stability.

With great difficulty, the girl looked to her right from the corner of her eye, catching Carlota there, just a few inches apart from her. Feelings of fury and disgust emanated from her aura as her right hand squeezed Y/N's arm, and although she didn't say anything, the girl knew that that gesture was a request - mandate - for her to get out of there.

Nick and Chris spoke to Sam and Colby in low tones, probably trying to understand the situation and find a solution to reverse it.

"I'm here, honey. I'm right here." Matt whispered repeatedly, bending down slightly to be at the same height as Y/N while holding her hand that was on his shoulder, stroking the skin softly with his fingers.

He felt his breathing quicken in anxiety at the sight of his girl's state, panic wanting to take over his body, but he maintained control, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself, as he whispered sweet nothings against his girl's ear.

Seconds later, when he saw that Y/N was still moaning and grunting in pain, he took a deep breath before turning around, turning his back to the girl and facing the room. Little did he know that Carlota was right next to him.

"I demand that you cut all effect on Y/N right now. You are not allowed to mess with her." Matt's voice was stern, like never before. His eyes held determination while running around the room, his hands behind him, maintaining contact with his girlfriend's body. "She's not yours!" He growled.

Suddenly, all the pressure on Y/N vanished, and a feeling of relief took over her, as if fresh air had entered her nostrils and filled her lungs, bringing comfort to her body. The girl exhaled sharply, removing her hands from her head slowly, as if expecting the worst.

Y/N straightened her posture, opening her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light. One of the boys had probably turned it on in the meantime, and the girl mentally thanked whoever had done it, finally being able to see the surroundings better.

The negative and evil energy had left her side, but Carlota was still in the room, Y/N could feel her.

Matt turned abruptly, facing Y/N again, pulling her into his arms as he held her head against his chest, caressing the area carefully.

"You're okay. You're okay." The boy repeated it like a mantra, trying to calm Y/N or himself. He wasn't sure.

Y/N winced at Matt's movement, the pain in her arm intensifying, reminding her that Carlota had almost ripped it off.

“Wait, are you hurt? Where does it hurt, Y/N?” Nick asked after hearing it, finally getting close enough to be able to lightly touch his best friend's shoulder, a worried look decorating his face.

Matt pulled away from Y/N almost instantly, ready to investigate her injury, feeling anger rising through his veins. If he could see and touch ghosts, he would kill Carlota again.

Y/N just raised her right arm, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket with her left hand. Chris, who was on the other side of the girl like a bodyguard, his blue eyes still darting around the room as if expecting something to appear out of nowhere, let a surprised sound escape his lips at the sight.

"Oh my God, Y/N. This is bad." The youngest of the triplets murmured, an expression of discomfort taking over his face as he thought about the pain resulting from the injury.

A handprint was perfectly carved on Y/N's arm. It looked like someone had taken a pencil and ink and drawn in the area. That would definitely turn out purple.

"That's crazy, dude. Does it hurt bad?" Colby asked, taking a few steps closer to get a better view, receiving a nod from the girl, who was still looking at the mark in disbelief.

"When you said you were Lorraine Warren, I didn't think you would perform the entire The Conjuring movie. If I had known, I would have brought a priest and some holy hater." Sam joked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, as he momentarily turned off the camera.

The blonde made a quick mental note to delete all footage of that disturbing episode, not wanting to expose such a vulnerable moment of his new friend.

Y/N let out a laugh. The ghosts really hated her.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

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rookieloveskashi · 1 year

Text

That's What I Thought

Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Warnings: smut, rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking, vaginal fingering, praise kink, blow jobs, cum swallowing, choking, overstimulation, POV reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: You ask Kakashi not to hold back, and he is all too happy to oblige.

AO3 Link

Waiting for Kakashi to return from a long mission was torture.

It was one thing when you still lived separately; able to focus on things in your own space and get your mind off the dangers he might be facing. But you had been living with the Copy Ninja for a few months now, and this mission was the longest he had been away since you’d moved in.

The mission wasn’t exactly dangerous—accompanying a party delivering a message to the Hidden Stone—but there were always risks when shinobi left the village.

Plus, the apartment still felt more like his than it did both of yours. You had only worked in a few of your own touches: some of your favorite sweet snacks tucked beside the health food in his cupboards, your one house plant you had managed to keep alive sitting on the windowsill, your toothbrush next to his by the bathroom sink. But the overall furnishings and décor were still Kakashi’s, and it felt strange to occupy this space without him for so long.

You collapsed on your stomach on the bed, feeling lonely and a little bit needy. You missed your silver-haired sweetheart, and he wasn’t due back for another two days.

The bright orange spine of a worn Icha Icha paperback on the bookshelf caught your eye. There wasn’t much in this world that struck up an image of the Copy-nin quite like one of the raunchy romance novels he could be spotted reading all over Konoha. Just reaching for the book and bringing it closer made you feel like he was closer too.

You had read it before, though not nearly as many times as Kakashi had. But still, you knew the flow of the story well enough to flip through the book to find the particular part you were looking for. Once you had it, you grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and stuffed it under your hips, propping up your butt as you settled in to read. You just wanted to feel the pressure beneath you for some semblance of intimacy to satisfy you until Kakashi was back home.

You just had no idea that would be happening before you even got to the end of the chapter.

You didn’t hear the door open—didn’t hear his footsteps as he padded to the doorway of the bedroom.

You didn’t hear him at all. Not until he spoke.

“Don’t you dare move.”

Your body jerked in surprise, your heart racing as you looked back at him. “Kakashi? You’re back early!”

“I am,” he agreed in a level tone, taking the few steps necessary to bring his feet to the spot on the floor directly behind you.

He reached out and grabbed two handfuls of your ass. You yelped as he hooked his hands around you, yanking you back a little, your back arching to present your ass. “Mmmm do you just lie around like this when I’m not around to enjoy it?”

“And what if I do?” you teased, wiggling your hips.

He growled, climbing onto the bed and covering your body with his own. “Then I’d better take advantage of this opportunity while I have it.” He yanked your panties down, then rubbed the palm of his hand over the soft skin he’d exposed. His back pressed into you as he leaned closer, his teeth nipping at your neck. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, already eager to please.

Kakashi lifted his hand from your ass, only to land a sharp smack on the direct center of your right butt cheek. “Then why aren’t these legs spread yet?”

You quickly shifted your knees just enough to grant him easier access. “That’s my good girl.” He reached forward between your legs, using two fingers to spread your entrance open, toying with your folds.

You trembled as you felt his fingertip circle your clit. “Fuck, Kakashi…”

He removed his fingers and sucked them clean before lifting off your back. You could hear as his clothes piled on the floor. “You might want to hold onto something.” You turned to look at him, eyes wide and cheeks pink at the sight of him standing at the foot of the bed, stroking his cock. “You’re about to take all of this, beautiful. So get ready, because I’m not going easy on you.”

You felt a tremor as your arousal built between your legs. “I don’t want you to go easy on me,” you smirked. “I want you to be rough.”

“Fuck,” he growled. He wrapped his hands around your upper thighs and gripped, then pulled you back to press his hips against you, his aching dick poised to split your wet cunt in half. He moaned as he rubbed himself along you, his voice vibrating deep in his throat. “That’s what you want, baby?”

While he hadn’t ever treated you like some fragile piece of glass, you knew he was still nervous about being as rough as he sometimes wanted to be. He cherished the typical affectionate, tender way he usually made love to you, favoring positions where he could look in your eyes, kiss you, and feel as much of your body against his as possible.

But some days, he just had a different look in his eye, like he was desperate to go absolutely feral on your body. And although that look easily aroused you beyond the point where it was obvious to the perceptive jōnin, he still had a bad habit of holding himself back or apologizing for—in his mind—going too far. But you’d finally talked about it, and now, having made it clear to him that he was more than welcome to indulge himself, you couldn’t wait to see what he would do.

“Mhmm.” You blinked your wide doe eyes at him, feeling your body tremble in anticipation of everything he was about to do to you.

His eyes stayed on yours for an extra second. You knew his Sharingan was looking you over for any signs of unease or discomfort, but you also knew he wouldn’t find a thing.

Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Kakashi suddenly dug his fingers into your hips and yanked you backward, impaling you on the full length of his cock.

You screamed and instinctively tried to scramble away, reaching for the pillow and trying to pull your hips forward. He chuckled a low laugh. “I told you to hold onto something.”

He quickly slid you forward, pulling you almost all the way off, just to yank you back again. He slammed you along his length repeatedly, fucking himself with your submissive body. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room. “Ohhh your little pussy feels so good,” he growled, bringing you back with more force than he’d ever dared use on you before.

“Ah! Ah!” You could only yelp with every move he made you make. “Ka-AH!”

“Mmmm, you look so good right now, bent so perfectly for me to fuck into.” He leaned over you, biting into your shoulder. The sensation was so intense everywhere he was touching you. Your eyes rolled back in your head, overwhelmed by all the stimulation.

He used his chest to push you down into the mattress. His left hand reached around the front of you to rub your clit while his right grabbed your throat. No longer able to manipulate you along his stationary cock, he began pumping into you like an animal, grunting into your ear.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” he groaned, “letting me do whatever I want to you. Such a sweet, pretty girl for me with such a soft, warm pussy.”

“Kuh—Kashi!”

“Mmmm you were made to take my cock, weren’t you, baby?”

You gasped and choked, his hold on your throat just tight enough to restrict your ability to properly speak.

“I asked you a question,” he scolded you, rubbing your clit harder—hard enough to make you see stars. “I expect an answer. Was this pretty pussy made to take my cock, or wasn’t it?”

A pathetic cry escaped your throat, your entire body trembling. “Ngh—YES!” you cried out, feeling yourself precariously close to cumming. “K-kashi yes!”

He hummed, his callused fingers continuing to abuse your bundle of nerves. “That’s what I thought.”

You shrieked, pulled over the edge by the assured tone of his voice and his relentless use of your body. You felt your walls clench in on him, a spark of pleasure almost too intense radiating through you.

“Are you cumming already?” he smirked. “That’s so cute.”

You writhed under him, waiting for him to slow down and ease you through. But he didn’t; not even a little. In fact, his hips started moving somehow even faster, fucking you deep into the mattress as you tried and failed to recover from your climax.

“Mmmmm, it feels so good when you tighten in on me like that.”

You babbled incoherently. The aftershocks of your orgasm were finally subsiding, although he was still lighting all your nerves with every deep, harsh thrust. You wanted more, despite the sharp pleasure still washing over you. He was just so fucking sexy like this. You would take him for as long as he wanted.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” he smirked, fingers rolling your clit in a tight trap. “Hm, yeah you do.”

“Ka…Kashi…” you tried to focus, but he was pounding into you so fiercely and abusing your clit so intensely, all you could do was pant and take it.

“Does that feel good, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

You furiously nodded. It felt better than good. Incredible. So fucking good, you wished the two of you had tried this way sooner. The trust you felt for him—knowing he was vigilantly watching for any signal you needed him to slow down or stop, even while fucking you into oblivion—made it so that you could fully enjoy the primal way he just took you.

He was absolutely merciless, his thick cock splitting you open as his fingers claimed your throat and clit. You felt warm puffs of his breath on your neck as he kissed and nibbled at your jaw.

The sounds of the room were deafening. His bedframe was creaking under the strain, despite your body taking the brunt of the force. When he wasn’t saying depraved things in your ear, he kept audible with low, throaty groans and grunts. His skin was slapping into yours, sounding absolutely filthy with the sound of his cock sliding back and forth along your slick cavern.

“You’re mine,” he growled, panting in your ear. “You belong to me.”

You were heaving and panting like an animal in heat, your eyes fluttering closed as he adjusted just enough to start directly plowing into the spongy area behind your clit. He was attacking your most sensitive area from both outside and inside, and you didn’t stand a chance.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as he made you cum again. You could only squeal out pathetic noises, broken whimpers filling the room as your vaginal muscles spasmed around his cock.

“Again?” he smiled. “I didn’t realize I was fucking you that good. It’s like you’ve been waiting all day to cum on this cock.”

“Gods…” you groaned, finally coming down again. “Kashi…”

“I want to see your face,” he growled, his hands sliding from your body. You nearly collapsed without the support of his hold. But before you even had the chance, he slid out of your heat and flipped you onto your back. It was so quick, the sensation was dizzying. You huffed out a breath as your back hit the mattress, your head settled on the pillow.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Kakashi smirked down at you, kneeling on the mattress and pressing into the backs of your thighs with his legs. His wide palms held your knees in place, pushing them apart to lock eyes with you. “Now I can see the cute faces you make when I fuck you.”

He didn’t waste another second, lining you up at exactly the right spot for him to slide back inside of you. A high-pitched sound flew from your lips as he filled your compliant, welcoming body once more. He slipped his hands to grip the fronts of your thighs, bringing you back to bump the backs of your thighs into his hips as he pulled you in to meet his thrusts, the thick head of his cock bumping against your g-spot with deadly accuracy.

You couldn’t maintain even a shred of dignity, your eyes rolling back into your head as your tongue lolled out of your mouth. Your eyelids fluttered as you lost yourself in the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

“Very good, sweetheart,” Kakashi purred, using his arms to hike your ankles to his shoulders. “That’s what I like to see.”

You grasped haphazardly at the sheets and pillow beneath you. All control of your body had been given over to him. You choked out whimpers as he impaled you on his dick again and again and again. The whole time, his speed and force didn’t falter for a second.

“Look at how well you take me. I love how eager you are for me.”

You regained a little control of yourself and looked up at him. He was watching himself disappear into you, completely mesmerized as your body adapted to accommodate him. Between the look on his face and the way he held himself, he looked so self-assured and gratified; it was easy to see how he’d earned a reputation for being cocky.

But you knew better. Where some saw narcissism or arrogance, you knew you were simply seeing a man who was proud to be doing his job well; to know his efforts were for the benefit of another: the village, another shinobi, the rare friend. But every once in a while, on occasions like these, his efforts benefitted himself. And as far as you were concerned, he deserved to make whatever self-satisfied face he damn-well pleased.

Those expressions were just for you, anyway. The curve of his mouth, the way his teeth sunk into his lower lip, the taut muscles in his neck. His cheeks, his nose, his jaw; his entire beautiful face that you wanted to cover in kisses: it was all for you. And being the object of his desire; the helpless little thing caught in the gravitational pull of this gorgeous, imposing man, letting himself loose and having you in every way he wanted?

Gods, there was nothing better.

His eyes slowly raked up your form, settling on your chest. He looked like a man possessed; his sole focus the way your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he grunted, his fingers digging into your flesh as he spread your legs further. “I love watching your perfect tits bounce when I fuck you.”

Hearing him voice his voyeuristic desire made your breasts ache with need. He’d ignored them to this point; his attention concentrated solely on your lower body. But suddenly, it felt like you would scream if you didn’t feel his fingers on your breasts. “Touch me Kakashi,” you panted, arching your back to present your chest. “Please touch me.”

“Heh, is that what you want?” he teased, keeping a steady rhythm of pounding into you. “You want me to touch your pretty pink tits?”

“Please,” you gasped. “I need you.”

“Mmmmmm, you need me?” he smirked.

“Kashi please!” you tugged at the sheets, desperate for relief.

“Hmm. Well I do want to touch them,” he mused, “But I need to keep my hands here so I can keep doing this.” His grip tightened on you as he doubled his efforts, pumping into you so quickly that sweat was starting to bead on his face. “So I want you to touch them.”

Your fucked-out brain couldn’t follow fast enough. “Wha?”

“Play with your tits for me, Y/N. I want to watch you touch them while I fuck you.”

The heat rising in your face was unavoidable. With the furious way he was using you, you didn’t even think your face could get any warmer. You were still doing everything you could just to survive his onslaught; you weren’t even sure you had the brain power or command over your own extremities to functionally get your hands where he wanted them. But his eyes snapped to yours, and for a second, you got a taste of what it must be like for shinobi under Kakashi’s command.

Attempting to disobey seemed pointless; this Kakashi was impossible to defy. But he was taking your hesitance as insubordination, and you could tell by the impatient look on his face that he would not accept your behavior.

“Now, Y/N.” Kakashi broke you out of your spiral, his voice a deep-throated snarl that made your skin tingle. That tone did something to your brain, giving you all kinds of ideas. Your response fell from your lips by some strange, new instinct.

“N…No.”

His brow furrowed and his body stilled. His hands still gripped your thighs as he held you against his hips, his cock buried almost fully inside you. The look on his face was almost comical; never before had the great Copy-nin had reason for such indignant confusion to color his face.

But you didn’t dare laugh.

An excited form of fear was building in your stomach as Kakashi continued to stare at you, the look on his face easing just barely as he fell completely into his authoritative role. “What did you just say?”

This was your one and only chance to have any hope of taking it back. Kakashi had already had more than enough time to figure out that your response wasn’t truly refusal. He knew you didn’t need—or even want—him to stop. But you weren’t about to take it back. Because if this was how he was going to react to your disobedience, you wanted to see just how far you could push him.

“I said no,” you repeated, boldness prickling through your veins, even as your voice took on a whinier tone. “I won’t. I don’t want to do it myself. I want you to touch them.”

He held your gaze for a few seconds. Even like this, Kakashi was stunning. Just looking into his eyes like that made your nipples ache with want and your cunt clench with need. All you wanted to do was comply, and give him exactly what he asked for. Anything to get him to start moving again. But you stood your ground.

The corner of his mouth twinged upward for a fraction of a second as his confidence and dominance washed over him. Then he relaxed his features and let out a resigned sigh. “Y/N, I thought you were going to be good for me. But instead, you’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

He leaned forward a little, shifting his hold on you to dig his fingers into the backs of your knees and push them forward to your chest. “Maybe that’s my fault,” he continued. “Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you.” He pressed down a bit harder, causing the muscle in the back of your thigh to protest as it was forced to stretch beyond its typical range. “Well, that ends now.”

You whimpered at the burn in your legs and instinctively reached forward to hold him back. His hands flew from your thighs to your wrists, throwing your arms back down to the mattress and pinning them easily.

“Ah ah ah,” he tsked before flicking his eyes up to your wrists and back to your face. The weight of his chest and positioning of his knees forced you to maintain your backbreaking position.

“Kashi, let go,” you whined.

You felt his gaze scan you before his mouth tugged into a wicked smirk. “Nope.” He pressed your wrists more firmly to the mattress. “I decide where I put my hands on your body. And there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

His grip on your wrists closed in like a vice. You cried out and he pushed his chest further into your thighs, bending you in half and settling your ankles next to your ears. “Ka-kashi!” You didn’t even know you could bend this far. But then his hips resumed their unrelenting thrusts into you, and the most embarrassing, feral sound tore from your throat as he showed you just how many shapes your body could make.

“My pretty little girl needs to be reminded who’s in charge?” he smirked, panting as he threatened to split you in half. “That’s fine. I can remind you who’s in charge.”

For all the movement of his lower half, he kept his chest pressed tight against you. His face hovered over yours as he watched every feeling and emotion run through your eyes; an aesthetic display as he fucked you into submission. Harsh slaps echoed through the room every time he bottomed out.

You felt him reach deeper than ever before, the head of his cock not just brushing but battering against your cervix. “K-Kashi,” you gasped pathetically, “please!” Your arms tensed as you tried and failed to get them out of his grasp.

“No, baby. Good girls get what they ask nicely for. But you, well, all I can give you now is your punishment.”

“Please—” you pleaded, “Kashi!”

“Hmmm is that what you think I want?” he chuckled, his hips bruising your ass with every plunge. “Go ahead and beg, sweetheart. See how much it helps you.”

He was railing you with so much enthusiasm, you could barely even form any words. “Please please Kashi!” you cried out, as though you only knew those two words. “P-Please! I’m sorry!”

“Mmmm I bet you are,” he teased. “Go on, pretty girl. Tell me how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry Kashi! Please, I’ll be good!”

He hummed, a smug look tugging at the corners of his mouth. “See, that’s what you said before.” His eyes closed as he used the muscles in his abdomen to really roll his hips into you. The motion caused his pelvic bone to repeatedly bump against your clit, just enough to tease it without really offering you any relief. If anything, it only frustrated you more.

“I mean it!” you panted. “I swear, I’ll be good!”

He hummed again, that deadly smirk painted across his face as he slowed down a bit. The thumb of his left hand stretched out to allow him to grip both of your wrists with his one wide palm. Even with half of his hold gone, you were completely overpowered. You wriggled to test his strength, but you quickly realized that he wasn’t holding back. Not at all.

“Hmmm, so pretty.” He traced his free hand down your cheek, drawing a barely-there line down the side of your neck, over your clavicle, then teasingly close to your stiff nipple before caressing the curves of your hip and thigh. The entire time, his hips didn’t stop their movements: slower, but no less intense. “Do you mean it? Are you gonna be my good girl again?”

You clutched to his question like a lifeline. “Yes! Yes I promise!”

Danger sparkled in both of his eyes as he leaned his face closer to you. For a moment, you thought he might offer you a kiss; just a tiny respite from his barbaric display. But you quickly realized you couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Well,” he started, “my good girl would take my cock, and thank me for it.”

He resumed his savage pace, using the full weight of his body to pound into you. The air escaped your lungs in an undignified grunt as you tossed your head back. Your nose bumped against your captive arm, and you gently bit down on your own flesh in an attempt to spread the overwhelming sensation throughout your body, instead of your pelvis taking the full brunt.

Kakashi snarled as he took his hand from your hip and landed a stinging smack on the exposed flesh of your ass. “Eyes forward, gorgeous.” Your neck fulfilled his request without any conscious command. When your eyes met his, you saw adoration blending with the pure desire that cloaked his gaze. “Mmmm, that’s better.”

He leaned his face down closer to yours, his eyes demanding your attention. “I’m gonna fuck your tight little pussy until you behave.” His free hand snaked between your torso and your thighs. Kakashi pressed his palm into you, just below your navel. The increased pressure caused his cock to have an even tighter fit inside you, and he shuddered out a groan before he started thrusting into you with even more force.

You couldn’t help but scream; the sound was so dire that you hadn’t even realized you had made it, until the sting prickled your throat. “Ka-AH! KAKASHI!”

“Is it too much, baby?” he cooed, slowing down. “Is my thick cock too much for you?”

You tossed your head back and forth as tears gathered in your eyes. “Ah…I…” Your eyes locked onto Kakashi’s in an attempt to communicate with him the only way you still could. The tomoe of his Sharingan was spinning wildly, working on overdrive.

“Well that’s too bad for you, sweetheart. Because you belong to me, so I get to do whatever I want to you.”

“Wait—”

His hand flew to from your stomach to your throat. “Enough,” he snarled. His eyes locked onto yours as he tightened his grip just enough to make your back arch. “I don’t want to hear it anymore, Y/N. You still haven’t even thanked me. Maybe if you just take your punishment like the good girl I thought you were, I might forgive you.”

You trembled, feeling that familiar tightness building below your navel yet again. It felt impossible that you would be on the brink of yet another orgasm while Kakashi was still going at full force. He had hardly even broken a sweat. And where he had, it was like he had strategically allowed certain areas of his body to perspire, just so he would have that raw, sensual glow that suggested all things erotic.

“Ohhhh I’m gonna fuck your pretty pussy until you remember who you belong to.”

He was saying all the right things, that low rumbling thunder in his voice coaxing even more desperate reactions from you than you thought possible. Kakashi tucked his head into the space between your head and your arm, burrowing into you until his mouth was right by your ear. You could hear every grunt and pant perfectly clearly, timed with those expert thrusts of his cock as he continued to use you.

Or punish you, according to him, but this hardly felt like punishment. In fact, you were sure if he kept this up even one minute more, you were going to reach a third high.

“Ka…Kash…i…” you whimpered, trying to warn him. Your lower lip trembled and your body felt on the verge of breaking. “I…”

“Shhhh,” he murmured into your ear. “Just take your punishment, Y/N.”

“B-But…I…AH!” You whined out a guttural scream as you came, your walls clamping down on him as your body gushed your creamy arousal all over his cock. Your fingers curled in on themselves, nails digging into your own skin as your lips trembled. You tried to take in a deep breath, but he kept his hold tight on your throat as he grunted his own sound of pleasure at the feeling of your muscles spasming around him. He leaned back to see your eyes cross as you gasped.

That look of deep self-satisfaction was back on Kakashi’s face. His eyebrows were raised in a small bid of surprise, but he surely knew better. He knew that even as you were playfully disobedient, you were still his good girl who loved being told what to do.

Kakashi slowed his thrusts as he looked into your eyes with equal parts affection and want. “Even while being punished?” he smirked. “Greedy little thing.”

Your mouth was gaping like a fish out of water, your tongue desperately trying to wet your parched lips. He tilted his head a little as he appraised you and slowed down a bit further. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, idly continuing to press into you. “Will you do as I ask now?”

As if you ever had a choice. Your third orgasm left you completely senseless, not a braincell left in your fucked-out body. You only had the energy to weakly nod, but it pleased him to the point where he smiled down at you with an affectionate warmth. “That’s more like it.”

He leaned back down to brush a soft kiss over your mouth. You were so braindead that you didn’t even notice the kiss until he had already nuzzled back into the crook of your neck. He moaned as he resumed his slow thrusts into your tender cunt.

“Mmmm feels so good,” he groaned against your skin. You grasped at the sheets and felt your body squirm without your permission. “Your pussy is mine,” he declared. “It’s all for me. Understand, Y/N?”

You whimpered as your sensitive walls started to protest. “Please,” you gasped, tremors tearing through your body. “P-please…I…”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he taunted you. “Use your words.”

Even through the haze of your third intense orgasm, you could recognize the slight undertone of concern in his order. He had never taken you this roughly, and even with his Sharingan, he was starting to worry he might be missing something and hurting you. He loosened his grip to be sure nothing was keeping you from letting him know if you’d had too much.

But you hadn’t had too much. As far as you were concerned, he could keep pounding into you until your brain completely shut down. But the risk of overstimulation was real, and you definitely didn’t want to overdo it and cause him to be apprehensive about trying something like this again.

“I…a minute…I just…”

The completely empty feeling in your head made it difficult for you to actually use your words like he instructed, but Kakashi was observant and discerning enough to understand.

“Hmmm, feeling sensitive after cumming all over my cock again?” He smirked as he teasingly pumped into you again, causing you to tense and gasp.

“Wait, Kashi—”

“Wait?” His eyebrows furrowed just a little and he tilted his head, the tomoe of his Sharingan recording and analyzing your every tiny twitch. “But I’m not done yet.”

Your hands flew up to paw at his chest. “Kakashi I’m too sensitive I can’t…”

“Hmmm, now that’s not fair Y/N. I make you cum three times, but I don’t get to finish?”

“Please Kashi I can’t handle any more!”

He hummed, sounding disappointed. “And here I thought you were back to being my good girl.”

“Please I want to but I can’t, Kashi!”

He pulled himself completely out. A playful, dangerous look was simmering in his heterochromatic gaze, his secret mouth posed in a sweet smile. “You want to be a good girl for me?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, and his smile grew in response. Then he brought that smirking mouth down to meet your trembling lips, kissing you in a swoon-worthy display of affection. When he finally pulled away, you could only resume gasping for breath. It felt like your heart had failed a few beats, but nothing else mattered when Kakashi looked at you like that.

He propped himself up on his elbows to gain power, then sat up fully on his knees. With a few easy movements, he scooted forward to settle his calves on either side of your head, his erection looming like a threat over your flushed face. “Then open that pretty mouth for me and suck my cock until I cum.”

Despite the overstimulation, warmth flooded between your legs at his command. Your muscles were useless, your lungs overworked, your body decorated with bruises and love-bites from everything he’d so far put you through. But as soon as he suggested it, you couldn’t even imagine a reality where you didn’t fuck him with your mouth. Right the fuck now.

You opened your jaw and flicked your tongue over your dry lips. Kakashi gripped his shaft and pumped a bit lazily, his eyes trained on your mouth as you readied yourself to take him.

A little bit of Kakashi’s domineering shell cracked, showing off the giddy, love-drunk man within. That softness in his eyes would always give him away, revealing how he still couldn’t believe he had you. And it caused the same look to shine from your own eyes, so in love with him.

His right hand cupped behind your head and pulled it up off the mattress at the same time as he lined the head of his cock to the opening of your mouth. You adjusted your mouth so he would just barely squeeze through, the wetness from your sex easing his passage. He groaned deep in his throat at the feeling of your lips sliding closer and closer to the base.

“That’s my girl,” he sighed, dropping his head back. “That’s what I want. Make my cock feel so good.”

You hollowed your cheeks as you licked at the underside of his cock, the texture of your tongue teasing his veins. Your own taste melded with the taste of his cock, and you couldn’t help but groan around him. His hips pulsed toward your mouth as his fingers tangled in your hair and tugged you in to meet him. You whined a little, still not completely as coordinated in your movements as you normally were.

“Faster, baby,” he demanded. You tried to match the movement of his hips, but your jaw slackened a little as you lost focus. “Come on baby, make me cum. I wanna cum down your throat.”

Your eyes locked onto his, and he understood what you needed even before you did. “Mmm poor little thing, you need help?” he cooed. “Here, I’ll help you.”

He sat forward a little, putting more of his weight on his knees and letting your head settle back on the pillow. His dick slid deep into your throat, the head thumping against the muscle of your throat. “Gods, that’s it Y/N.” The new angle put him in complete control, and he didn’t waste it. He immediately set a brutal pace, his fingers still holding you still by the roots of your hair as he fucked your face into the mattress.

“You’re my good girl now, aren’t you? So good, just for me.”

His eyes stayed on your face, and you were sure this served two purposes. For one, it allowed him to be sure he wasn’t being too so rough that he was hurting you—he wanted you to enjoy his actions as much as he did. But also, he felt an egotistical pleasure as he watched your lips struggle to keep up with the relentless pace at which his cock disappeared between them.

After everything he’d already done, it wasn’t long before his breaths started getting choppy and his rhythm was a little less disciplined.

“Ohhhh fuck…” he panted. “Fuck, I’m—” He growled as he came, his eyes rolling back as he let his release loose down your throat.

It was difficult to accommodate him in your flat position, but you swallowed it as quickly as possible, gulping it down just for the next spurt to fill your mouth again. It wasn’t easy, but that adoring look on his face was more than enough motivation.

Finally, he pulled his hips back, giving you space to breathe. You felt as the muscles of your face pulled into a mindless grin, happily gasping for air as you laid flat on your back.

“Y/N. Be honest with me. Are you okay?”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, your gaze level with his. Sometimes, you just had too many things running through your mind; too much love and admiration for him to put into words. You wanted to tell him all of it. Every embarrassingly honest thought. But you only had the energy for one.

“I love you.”

He pulled you onto his lap and hugged you close, tucking his face against your shoulder. “I love you too.”

Kakashi’s presence was the only thing you needed for the apartment to feel like your home.

► masterlist

#kakashi smut #kakashi x reader smut #kakashi x you smut #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi imagine #kakashi fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 author #rookie98 #rookie98writes #rookie wrote

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miyuhpapayuh · 9 months

Text

Massage.

The cold metal of his bottom grill rubs along the inside of her ankle as she lays down on their bed. His massages always end up with him being more than touchy.

His hands found their way to her calves, pressing his fingers into her skin, his lips still lazily sliding up her leg.

“Jey,” she laughs, gasping as his bottom canines softly dig into her flesh, his tongue soothing it afterward.

Turning her head to look at him, she stares at the mischievous grin on his fine ass face.

“What?”

“You said you'd behave.”

“I am!” He chuckles, “I can't get a nibble or two?”

“No!” She giggles, turning to place her face back into the pillow once he moves up to her back, actually relieving the tension that had settled in her bones.

“Oh man, those hands are really magical cause no way,” she mumbles, stretching in ways she hadn't been able to in a few days due to the unbearable pressure when she'd try.

“I told you, I got the magic touch.” He hums, working his way to her lower back, kneading circles in the area with his thumbs.

“Yeah, you do.” She agrees, swiping her hair to the side to get more comfortable.

Pulling her left foot up to rest on his shoulder, she almost questioned him until one hand came up to rub her calf again, melting the tension right away.

Her eyes closed at the feeling, nose wrinkling up as his mouth found its way back to her ankle. She hums a laugh.

“I'm behavin’ as best as I can,” he grumbles, running his hand up her leg to mess with her little black shorts. “You just look so good like this, all laid out and relaxed, oiled down and smelling good,” he trails off, running his pointer finger up the center of her crotch.

Her sweet gasp makes him chuckle, a spank to her cheek earning him another one, her body beginning to squirm.

“Jey..”

“You wet as hell,” he darkly chuckled, moving hand back to rub her clothed slit. “I feel that shit."

“Th-this is not behavin’,” she tried to scold, all of that going out of the window as he pulled off her shorts and panties with ease.

Her pretty brown treasure staring at him, her slick shining as she rolls her hips in his direction, unable to deny her want for him any longer.

Diving into her wetland, she instantly shivers at the contrast of his warm tongue and his cold grill, one of her hands coming back to caress his head.

“Fuckkk,” she moans into the pillow as he dips his tongue into her opening, lapping up every drop of her sweet taste.

“Mmm… so good, baby,” he moans against her, slapping her ass with both hands.

His tongue finds her clit, suckling it into his mouth as her back arches, her hips jutting against his face as she nears her peak.

“Fuck, don't stop baby.. fuck!” She moans, clutching his hair in her hand tighter.

He wags his face against her, chuckling as she begins to scoot up the bed to get away from him, his mouth relentless as he grabs her thighs to hold them apart as he continues licking and sucking until her cum drips down his beard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her hands are stuck in the sheets, his sloppy licks don't cease as her head spins from the pleasure.

Replacing his tongue with his fingers, his index and middle rub up and down her wet slit, her hips wildly buck against them, already about cum again.

“Fuck— fuck me, please!” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as her orgasm rushes through her, making her tremble in his hold.

“Stay just like this, beautiful,” he says, pushing the arch into her back, spreading her thighs to see her slick opening, before moving between them, rubbing himself between her folds.

Pulling her hair away from her neck and up into a makeshift ponytail, he glides into her and groans at how good she feels wrapping around him.

Her gasps at every deep thrust bounce off the walls of their bedroom.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” He moans, slapping her ass with his free hand, watching her grab for the pillow in front of her.

“Just like that,” she breathes, “fuck me!”

His hips piston into her ass over and over, tapping a spot that's got her body twitching, her eyes roll back at the sensation.

“Fuuuck, that f-feels so good! Right there!” Her whines are music to his ears, all the fuel he needed to keep going.

Moving his hands to her hips, his thrusts get deeper as her head falls forward, her wild moans hitting the sheets underneath her.

“Mhm, let it out baby… that shit feel good, don't it?”

“Yes!” She yells, throwing her ass back, her hands threading into her own hair, pulling as it gets good.

He bites his lip at the sight, swatting her ass again, groaning as she clamps down on him, cumming again.

Pulling away to flip her over, he hovers back over her. Her chest heaves up and down as she stares at him, ready for his next move.

“Can I get one more outta you, baby?” He asks, pulling her left leg up in his hip, grinding against her.

“Y-yes,” she softly moans, reaching between them to put his dick back inside, turning him on even more.

“Mmm, sexy ass.” He grabs her chin and smashes their lips together finally, swallowing every whimper and moan, throwing his hips into hers just the way she likes.

“Mmf!,” she pulls away to throw her head back, her eyes rolling backward as his tongue finds her neck. “J-just like that, baby— fuck!”

“Just like this, huh?” He asks as they wrap their arms around one another.

“Yes! It feels s-so goood! So good!” She whines, feeling her body tighten for the fourth time, pulling him down with her.

“Fuck, I'm cumming all in this pussy, baby?” He asks against her ear, the rutting of his hips becoming choppy.

“Yes, please cum inside me,” she moans, unable to stop the way she flexes around him, as her orgasm floods through, making him softly bite into her neck and fill her up.

Taking a minute to breathe, she softly hits his chest. “You still owe me an actual massage, Jey.” He laughs in return.

“I know, I know. I got you.”

For my girl @harmshake I hope you enjoy! 💜

#jey uso x black reader #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso smut #poc writers #miyuhpapayuh #blackwriters

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zepskies · 7 months

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Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#ask me stuff #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you #angst to the max #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #soft!Ben #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

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saszor · 9 months

Text

image description both in alt text and copied below!

another drawing of disabled* people hanging out chilling living life etc :-)

*technically the carer of the person in the pink wheelchair isn't disabled but carers are a part of the disabled people living life experience sometimes. so it counts 👍

previous drawings of this series

[1] [2] [3]

[image description copied from alt text: drawing of 13 characters on a blue background. on the left side is a fem-presenting Asian guy with spina bifida in a wheelchair. his wheelchair has a much higher footrest to accommodate his short legs. behind him is a man with cerebral palsy using crutches and an AFO. he is wearing a tank top showing his top surgery scars. he has an uneven smile and strabismus. behind them is a drawing from the chest up of a Brown fat man reading in his bed with a CPAP mask on. he's smiling and shuffling the pages of the book. in the center part of the image are three people holding hands with hearts above them. the one on the left is a Black girl in a blue skirt using a cane. she is smiling and looking to the side. the one in the center is a fat Black person wearing a matching pink top, leggings and knee brace. they have a large heart surgery scar going across their chest and a smaller one on their forehead. they are smiling and looking at the person they are holding hands with. that person is an agender person with albinism wearing a hat with a wide rim, sweater and jeans. ze also has a pair of sunglasses hanging on hir collar. hir eyes are unfocused and looking in opposite directions. ze is smiling. below them are two Deafblind people. they are talking using the Deafblind Manual, with one of them finger spelling on the other's palm. the character doing the signing has congenital rubella and cataracts. they are white and have gray hair, acne and a focused expression. the person they are signing to is a white woman with ginger hair. she is smiling and staring forward. she wears a hearing aid. on the top right of the image is a Black man in a large pink power wheelchair with a trach tube. he is sitting still with one eye visibly open. next to him is a white guy with a bottle in one hand and feeding tube in the other. there are speech bubbles with icons indicating 1 eye closed for "yes" and both eyes closed for "no". below them are three kids playing with plushies. the plushies are a crocodile, belonging to a Brown girl with a C-shaped scar on one side of her head, a purple cat with one of it's paws missing belonging to an East Asian girl with an upper limb difference, and a rat belonging to a white girl with intellectual disability and small, spread out eyes wearing a scoliosis brace. they all seem happy.]

#my art #disabled artist #artists on tumblr #digital art #disabled ocs #ID in alt text #described art #BTW the two people on the bottom center aren't using 'regular'(?) sign language. it's deafblind manual that's why they're touching!

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adelheidvonschicksal · 18 days

Note

Hello! I’d love to read your vision of the LoD boys x MC in high school. (High school to adults, just high school, childhood. Anything!) Alllll the cliches appreciated, haha.

Coming-of-Age HC's with the LADS Guys

pairing: fem!reader x Zayne, fem!reader x Xavier, fem!reader x Rafayel

content: fluff, alternate universe (kinda)

Childhood with Zayne is filled with increasingly hot summers and snowy winters. It’s memories of an extroverted young girl dragging along her much more introverted best friend (well, Caleb’s friend first) to make popsicles under the blaze of the June sun and snowmen in the cold of January. In the same way snow melts with the coming of spring, you chip his shell away, making a friendship that’s stronger than any of your lifetimes.

Those years with Zayne are like a pleasant dream, soft and gentle, like his hand when he wipes away the tears from your cheeks whenever you fall or when he places a band-aid on one of the many injuries prone to an adventurous spirit.

Middle School with Zayne is when you first feel fragility in your friendship. You’re realizing you might be growing in different directions.

Zayne is intelligent, often getting attention for his grades and participating in scholars tournaments while you’re busy with your own hobbies and friends that come with them.

There’s hope your friendship will persevere each time you walk home together, each time he lets you share his umbrella on heavy rainy days, and each day he saves to spend with you.

High school with Zayne is confusing. Growing into adulthood is an exciting and nervous situation for anyone but even more-so when everyone but you seem to realize that you have feelings for your childhood friend.

Your grandma is constantly reminding you how smart and handsome Zayne has become. He’s going to study to be a doctor, you know! Maybe you should ask him to prom?

Caleb complains about how Zayne usually takes your side in arguments and does what you want all the time. He frequently teases you every time you sigh over the older boy. Isn’t getting a crush on your older brother’s friend too obvious?

They’re right though, and it’s awkward. What’s more awkward is the stolen kiss with Zayne in the new car his parents got him when he first got his license. You don’t talk about it even after he goes to college.

Meeting Zayne as an adult is nostalgic yet new as you learn about each other again. The trust you had in each other never truly left.

With each trinket, you realize he’s still the same Zayne, quiet and stern on the outside but with a patient and gentle center. However, his smart mouth still rears its head as frequently as it did back in high school.

You watch out for him more as an adult, because you see that he isn’t actually good at caring for himself despite all his intelligence. You make it so he can rely on you to get through the past days and future ones.

You try new things together. You adapt to how your views of the world differ so you can mold those differences together, creating one shared experience in the life you build with one another.

Childhood with Xavier is innocent. Being born on Philos is like being born in a fantasy book. Your world is sword training and ceremony rehearsals, your feet always chasing after the decorated knights and lightseekers before they board their spaceships. In your mind, the world is as limitless as the starry sky promised just beyond its surface.

Xavier is the same way. He says he likes sword training because it’s the only thing he’s good at. Truthfully, he loves that sword, carries it around with him everywhere like a third arm, and you love training with your new fellow student.

As you get older, things start to change for reasons you don’t really understand. The loss of innocence is slow, dragging out like the death of a star. It starts when silly days sword practicing becomes military drills. Then, Xavier’s ceremony rehearsals become real with each trial he has to overcome. It culminates when you find out that he will probably be betrothed one day against his will, which manifests into doubt that you would ever be on the list for a prince to marry.

Military Academy with Xavier offers a surprising amount of freedom as you discover yourself away from the watchful eyes of the royal family. It’s reintroducing him to your favorite snacks and music and sneaking out of the barracks to watch the stars and anything else he couldn’t do under the iron grip of his family.

There’s also many nights helping him study and focus so he can become the best version of himself because he still has rebellious tendencies after all these years.

These tendencies lead you to covering for him and also him talking you into one too many bad ideas. Ideas that leave you carrying one another home on stumbling legs after too many rounds with random wanderers or rounds with liquor way stronger than you know how to deal with.

It’s okay. You have each other to keep the other safe, so attached at the hip that Jeremiah always wonders where the other one is whenever he catches the two of you apart.

His light shines only for you. If you asked, he would give anything to make sure you’re happy: his time, his freedom, his life.

The jealousy and longing to be with you grates against the cage his title keeps around him whenever he sees someone else who has seen your light and fallen in love with you too. It’s written love letters, never signed, but left in your locker, the ones that smell like forget-me-nots and written in a prose that Xavier hopes you won’t recognize as his when he sees you fawning over the little notes.

Your looming graduation reignites the worries about your relationship. You have to come to terms with your respective role as a knight and Xavier as King. Xavier feels the same way.

Yet this part of your life quickly becomes filled with sweet nothings – promises to run away together, carried on his wishes to be with you for the rest of immortality, all wrapped in the little star charm carried on his sword. It makes you realize your feelings were requited all along.

Adulthood with Xavier fills like achieved dreams and nights you never want to end. It’s basking in the company of one another, adorned with kisses and released longing that couldn’t be given years prior.

It’s becoming more than just his guiding starlight but his entire galaxy, and he shows it with each kiss he gives you.

Childhood with Rafayel feels like you’re dreaming. Mermaids aren’t supposed to exist but there’s one right in front of you.

You learn so many things from him. He loves talking about almost anything from his culture to your culture. He loves art, the sunset, and music.

You bring him lots of things from land that you think he would like, spending long days at the beach trading items with him and showing him human toys. It becomes normal to strike out early every weekend to meet the Lemurian boy again and again.

He braids Lemurian ribbons and clips seashell accessories into your hair. He teaches you Lemurian lullabies and sayings. He often gets in trouble for accidentally gifting you family heirlooms without realizing the weight of said items. He just thought it was pretty. Even if he got in trouble, it was worth it to see you smile.

Your time together eventually develops into trying to think of ideas to explore further from the beach. You train to hold your breath a little longer with hopes of making it further into the sea than last time.

Your first kiss is because of the legend that Lemurian kisses can let one breathe underwater. It wasn’t really a big deal back then. However, the memory of it makes your face hot many years later when you think back on it.

The end of summer marks the slowdown of your free time together. It always ends with a pinky promise to spend your next free day with him.

Your 8th grade year with Rafayel is a collage of photos and videos filled with cawing seagulls, the serenade of his harmonica, and the first time your feet were able to touch the surface of the water. Rafayel always seems to want to show off his new powers as the next God of the Sea.

He’s still a child though, which means he is still insistent to sneak to school with you to see what human classes are like. He still talks too smartly to the other students, and you still have to talk him out of a fight with one of the other boys.

It’s an exhausting day but he seemed to have fun running around town with you, saving the day in the strip of pictures printed out from the photo booth and the memory of his first surface world sunset.

Your later teenage years offer even less time together but each time you visit him feels more meaningful than the last even though you can’t go further than the crackle of a bonfire at the edge of the beach. You’re happy with these late nights though because you love the boy from another world.

No matter how many years pass, he’ll always be the boy who gets shy and makes excuse after excuse to avoid singing for you despite being born a siren. He’s the boy who constantly complains about his classmates being idiots for saying you’re going to steal his blood and make him into oil and how they tease him for being friends with a human. He refuses to tell you that it’s more because of his crush on a human. Despite all that, he has no issue dropping hint after hint about how Lemurians can bond with others by giving one of their scales.

Years later, it still makes a lovely necklace to wear when he finally makes his choice to be on land, with you, his beloved bride.

#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #zayne fluff #rafayel fluff

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

a safe haven | two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter l next chapter

summary: While helping set up the barn for the summer party, a friend tells you that Tommy wants to set her up with Joel and feelings of jealousy come into play; you ask your niece Dina for a huge favor; you share a memorable moment with Joel and Ellie on the dance floor.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. commune throws party, Esther makes an appearance, reader gets jealous, mentions of reader’s husband, husband name reveal, hints at their strained marriage, Dina and Ellie interaction, Joel dances, cute moments between Ellie, Joel, and reader. mention of food, consumption of alcohol.

word count: 6.6k

You glance around the barn, both hands planted firmly on your hips.

It’s late in the afternoon, around three or four if you had to guess since you’d accidentally left your watch in your satchel bag back at the stables.

After spending the morning making your usual rounds and tending to all of the horses that needed some attention, you’d offered to pitch in and help prepare for the night’s upcoming festivities. In one corner of the barn, Seth’s setting up the small bar where he and his sons would be bartending and serving up beverages. Over in another corner, Tommy Miller is helping set up the large, flat top grill and his wife, Maria, stands right beside him, keeping everything organized as she directs several members of the commune and assigns them with a number of tasks that still need to be taken care of before the social event could begin. The food had also started to arrive—quite a few people had kindly volunteered to bring in their homemade dishes to share, all sorts of delicious little pickings from a variety of savory sides to go with the bison steaks that Tommy would be grilling later on in the evening, to an array of sweet, baked desserts meant to be enjoyed afterwards. Maria graciously thanks everyone for their contributions, then points them over towards the long, rectangular shaped table that would serve as something of a buffet.

“Do you think we brought out enough chairs for tonight?” you ask, curiously cocking your head to the side slightly as you silently start to do another count of the mismatched chairs around all of the tables that surrounded the perimeter of the makeshift dance floor. The barn itself was incredibly spacious, and the group who’d been assigned the task of cleaning it up earlier that morning had completely cleared the inside, leaving more than plenty of room. Still, you try to be mindful about making sure the improvised venue isn’t too crowded with tables and chairs. “Or do you think we should bring out a few more?”

Esther scoffs in response. She had been sitting at one of the tables, digging through a woven basket filled to the brim with freshly picked wildflowers for the center pieces she had promised Maria that she’d make. She improvised with a different variety of glasses, plastic cups, and even old, empty food cans, using them as vases for her arrangements. In a tiny effort to spruce them up, Esther had tied a long string of twine into a bow around each one. “Listen, nobody is going to be sitting on their ass tonight, at least not for very long,” she remarks, brushing her long, golden blonde bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She then gestures towards the stage where a couple of guys are bringing out instruments and setting them up. She shimmies her shoulders playfully. “Everyone is going to be way too busy dancing and shaking their tail feathers. Now quit worrying about chairs and help me with these damn things, will you?”

You giggle at her antics and lightly shake your head as you sit down in the wooden chair directly across from her plastic one. You grab an old, empty Campbell’s chicken noodle soup can and peel off the label, carefully checking the inside to make sure it’d been washed out thoroughly before grabbing a handful of flowers from the basket. Esther made a good point. The much anticipated and long awaited first day of summer had officially arrived in Jackson, and the entire town was buzzing with pure excitement over the gathering—an incredibly rare time to unwind and let loose, you knew everybody was more than ready to put on their best and dance the night away.

Sure, throwing a party while living in a world like this one seemed like nothing but a complete waste of time—not to mention, a complete waste of valuable and precious resources. But the good people of Jackson worked themselves down to the bone in efforts to keep the community going, to keep it growing and flourishing now that it was well over forty families strong. Taking just one night out of the year to have some carefree fun did a lot more good than it did harm. It provided a much needed sense of normalcy for everyone, but most importantly, for the children and members of the younger crowd who had been born after the outbreak. It was a small taste of what life used to be like before every single day became nothing but a fight for survival, before the worries of infection, clickers, and murderous raiders became god awful nightmares that had come to life. While Jackson was certainly a safe haven, it wasn’t completely immune to those very real threats, and that scared people. Seeing the way the summer party lifted spirits and boosted morale, Maria had made it an official annual tradition, something to look forward to when the tough got going. Anyone who thought it was a stupid idea was more than welcome to spend the entire night on wall duty instead.

“I wonder if he’s coming tonight.” Esther’s voice breaks into your train of thought after a minute or two.

You glance up at her, confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“Tommy’s older brother,” she replies, placing some daisies into a tall, slightly chipped glass. She bites her lip and says his name shyly. “Joel.”

Without thinking anything much of it, you nod and find yourself assuring her, “He said he would come.”

Esther’s hands fumble, clumsily knocking the glass over in surprise, her flowers spilling out. She manages to catch it just before it falls off the side of the table and grips it in her hand. “Wait a minute, you’ve met Joel?” She gasps lightly, her eyes going wide with curiosity. “You mean, you’ve actually talked to him? Are you fucking serious? When did that happen?” She sputters out each question, one after the other.

You bite back a grin as you recall your encounter with Joel Miller. Even now, a full day later, the feeling of his hand holding yours still lingers. His skin had been rough and calloused against your own, but you’d enjoyed the way it had felt. You shouldn’t have. But there’s no denying how much you had liked it, how much you wished for another chance to hold his hand in yours again.

Still waiting for answers, Esther nudges your leg with her foot under the table. “Well?”

You shrug your shoulders in the most calm, nonchalant manner that you can muster, as if the mere thought of the man isn’t making your insides flutter wildly. “Well, I actually just met him for the first time yesterday afternoon.” Seeing the genuinely stunned expression on Esther’s face, you begin to elaborate a little further as you start arranging a bouquet of flowers into the empty soup can in front of you. “Ellie, the girl he’s here with, well she spends a lot of time with me at the stables. Joel came looking for her after lunch hour and we got to talking for a bit. Before he left, I ended up inviting him and Ellie to come to the party.”

“Wait, what? Ellie spends a lot of time with you? Really?” Esther lets out a scoff of pure and utter disbelief. “I can hardly even believe it! That girl avoids everyone around here like we’re the damn infected. It’s really rude, don’t you think so?” She doesn’t even give you the chance to respond before adding, “She’s got quite the mouth on her from what I’ve heard, too. Cusses up a storm left and right, and she lacks the most basic manners. Poor Joel, I wonder how he ended up getting stuck with someone like her. Whoever her parents were, they clearly failed in disciplining her.”

Frowning, you glare at her across the table, not too fond over the remarks she’d just made about Ellie. “She’s actually a really good kid, Esther,” you all but snap at her, a seething edge to your tone. “You know something, I really wish people wouldn’t be so damn quick to judge before getting to know someone, especially when they have no idea about what they’ve been through. Maria has taught all of us better than that over the last few years.”

Your friend holds up her hands in defense. “Well in all fairness, it’s kind of hard to try and get to know someone who purposely chooses to keep to themselves all the time, you know. She isn’t even giving anyone the chance to get to know her. Except for you now, apparently.” She pauses for a moment, realizing she had just landed herself in a bit of hot water with you. She tries to deviate the conversation slightly into a less sensitive territory and asks, “Are they both coming tonight?”

“Joel said he’d be by with Ellie,” you confirm, still feeling a bit irate. You know Esther doesn’t really mean any harm, but her comments, and the way she’d said them, had definitely struck a nerve. “He might have his work cut out for him trying to talk her into coming with him, but I’m sure that he’ll manage to convince her somehow.”

“Well, at the very least, I sure hope that Joel sticks true to his word and comes out to join us,” she smirks, propping her elbows up on the table as she leans towards you and makes a confession that you’d really wished she hadn’t. “He’s certainly someone that I would like to get to know.”

You manage to keep a straight face, uttering a small, “Oh really?”

“Of course! He’s so damn handsome,” Esther gushes with a twinkle in her sky blue eyes. “Joel is exactly my type of man, you know. Tall. Rugged. Big, strong hands that I bet would feel incredible all over me,” she swoons back into her chair in a dramatic fashion at the thought of it. “And he has this mysteriousness about him that I really like too.” She stops, looking around to make sure nobody was within earshot before leaning over towards you once more. She lowers her voice just in case anyone happens to pass by the table. “Tommy stopped by my place after dinnertime yesterday. He told me he was thinking of setting Joel up with somebody and he asked me if I would be interested.”

Your heart sinks. “He did?”

It’s difficult to ignore the feeling of envy that’s prickling at your nerve endings. It’s incredibly stupid to feel this way, to feel disappointed, especially knowing that you didn’t have the slightest chance in hell with Joel Miller.

Esther’s a single woman up for grabs—and you’re not.

You’re married.

Still, the thought of Joel with Esther, it bothers you.

After talking to him in the horse stables the day before, you’d found yourself thinking about him a lot more than a married woman should probably be thinking about another man who wasn’t her husband. It was wrong, it was dangerous, and it wasn’t like you at all. But there was just something about him that had caught your attention, long before he’d even spoken a single word to you.

Now that you’d become acquainted with him, you were screwed.

So frustratingly and devastatingly screwed.

“You know what, I’m going to try and talk to him tonight,” Esther concludes, nodding her head as if she’d just convinced herself into doing it. “I might need a strong drink or two in me to give me a little bit of liquid courage, but I think I can do it. After all, Tommy thinks that Joel would really like me. He told me so last night.”

You lightly clear your throat and somehow manage to give her your best, encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll make a great first impression on him, Esther.”

“I think so too,” she agrees, giving the flower in her hand a gentle sniff. “By the way, I forgot to ask you—is Luke coming by tonight?”

The mere mention of your husband’s name makes you feel nauseous.

Averting your gaze, you shake your head. “No, he isn’t. He’s been so tired from work lately and he’s really not in the mood for it.” You hope she can’t detect the hint of relief in your voice as you explain that your husband wouldn’t be joining in on the night’s festivities. “He’s going to stay home and catch up on some rest.”

“What a shame,” Esther tsks with a frown. “That man works way too damn hard, you know. He needs a break. You should really try and get him to come to the party. He could use a night out.”

“I’ll try and talk him into it,” you lie straight through your teeth knowing damn well that you would do no such thing. The truth of the matter was, the less you were around Luke, the better. Him being at the party with you would only make it unenjoyable for you—if he came, you wouldn’t be able to be yourself, not unless you wanted to end the night with another explosive argument because you’d been too this or too that. Too chatty, too annoying, too embarrassing, too much.

Knowing Luke, he would expect you to be glued to his side all night long and play the role of his quiet, obedient little wife, and when that didn’t happen, it would cause all hell to break loose once you two were back in the privacy of your home. It was the one place where the image of the perfect, loving marriage that you and Luke had created over the last few years came crumbling down into pieces.

From your periphery, you catch a young girl with long, raven black hair walking by with a burlap sack of green apples in her arms. “Excuse me for a minute.” You stand up from the table and catch up to the teenager, calling out her name. “Dina!”

She stops in her tracks and turns around. As soon as she sees that it was you who’d called her name, she smiles warmly. “Hi there, auntie.”

You wrap an arm around her in a hug. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Dina shrugs, setting down the heavy sack at her feet as she smiles at you once again. Since you’d met her, she had always been a quiet kid, friendly but very shy. As she transitioned from childhood into adolescence, she had slowly but surely started coming out of her shell. “I’m excited for all the good food, that’s for sure. What about you?”

“I’m really looking forward to the live music,” you reply, nodding towards the stage where a young man is tuning up his bass guitar. You peer curiously at her for a moment, hesitating slightly before finally saying, “Listen, I’m glad that I caught you. I was wondering if you could do me a really big favor tonight?”

Eagerly, she nods. “Of course! Anything for you, auntie. What do you need?”

“You know that new girl, right? Ellie?”

Dina’s face falls instantly. “You mean the one who doesn’t talk to anybody?”

“Yeah. Her. I was thinking that maybe we should do something to change that,” you suggest to her. “I’d really appreciate it if you would try and talk to her tonight during the party. Maybe try and get to know her a bit.” You immediately notice the look of disdain that crosses her features. “I honestly think that you two would get along great. She reminds me a lot of you, you know. Minus all the cursing, of course,” you quickly add as an afterthought.

“You’ve talked to her?”

“She’s actually been hanging out with me these last couple of weeks.” You almost laugh at the shocked look on Dina’s face. “I wouldn’t ask you to befriend someone who I know you wouldn’t like. But I mean it, Dina. I really think you’d like Ellie. Something tells me that you two could wind up being good friends.”

“But she yelled at me on her first day here,” Dina recalls, anxiously biting her bottom lip as she shuffles from foot to foot.

“Okay, so maybe you two might have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you state, remembering that winter afternoon a few months ago when Dina had told you about how Ellie had barked at her for staring at her in the mess hall. “But that doesn’t mean that you two can’t start over, you know. Clean slate?” You grin and tuck a lock of her long hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek softly as you did so. “It would really mean a lot to me if you at least tried to talk to her. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Dina thinks it over for a minute, then sighs in defeat. “Fine. I suppose I can give it a shot.”

You take her face in the palm of your hand, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Dina quickly pulls away from you and wrinkles her nose. “Auntie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going home to shower before the party tonight, right?”

“Yeah, of course I am.” You furrow an eyebrow at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “You smell like a dirty horse.”

You chuckle, giving her another squeeze.

Oh, Ellie and Dina were going to get along just fine.

Joel stands in front of the bathroom mirror and frowns at his own reflection as he runs his thick fingers through his graying, dark brown curls for what had to be the thousandth time. Whether it was with his hands or with a comb, he couldn’t tame his locks to save his fucking life. He breathes out a long, irritated sigh and decides to give up on his hair altogether before walking back out into his bedroom in nothing but the dark blue bath towel wrapped around his waist. He pads over towards the foot of his bed where he’d set out his pile of clothes.

He quickly tugs on a pair of boxer briefs and his clean, dark wash blue jeans before reaching for one of the shirts Tommy had dropped off for him earlier that afternoon. His brother had given him a number of options to choose from and Joel had chosen the one he’d felt was the nicest—black with a gray paisley print and long sleeves. He shrugs into the shirt and buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to the middle of his forearms. He glances over at his pistol on the black oak nightstand beside his bed. Though he’s fairly positive he wouldn’t be needing it, he picks it up and tucks it into the waistband of his jeans, purely out of habit.

After slipping on his cleanest pair of black leather boots, he leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the long hallway towards Ellie’s door. He gives it a light knock and calls, “Ellie, s’time. You all ready to go?”

It takes her a minute, but Ellie finally opens the door.

“Y’didn’t wanna dress up for tonight?” Joel questions, observing how she’s chosen to wear her usual long sleeved shirt, faded blue jeans, and tattered red low top sneakers.

She narrows her eyes at him and huffs, “Fucking really, Joel?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Right. That was a stupid question,” he realizes out loud. “Alright. C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get goin’ before it gets late.”

“Do we really have to go to this stupid thing?” Ellie whines with a small groan as she follows him down the stairs and out the front door. “It’s the end of the fucking world, man. Who in their right mind throws a fucking party? I mean, what are we even celebrating, anyway? The fact that we’re all fucked for the rest of our lives?”

“Y’know, a little change in attitude would be kinda nice,” Joel remarks as the two of them make their way across the commune, following another group of people who also appear to be heading towards the barn. “This could be real good for you, Ellie. Hell, it could be good for me too. It could end up bein’ a real good time for the both of us.” He doesn’t quite fully believe that, and the truth is, Joel really doesn’t want to go as much as Ellie doesn’t want to go. Still, he hopes that by exposing Ellie to people at the social event, she’ll have an easier time adjusting, and perhaps she could even finally find her niche. Or at least make a friend. Seeing you also happens to be a perk of going. “This could be fun.”

“Since when are you into parties, Joel?”

Joel shrugs his shoulders. “I ain’t into parties.”

“Oh, wait a minute. The only reason that you even want to go to this fucking thing in the first place is because you know who is going to be there. Isn’t that right, Romeo?” Ellie smirks and wiggles her eyebrows at him in a suggestive manner. Noticing the perplexed expression on his face, she scoffs, “Don’t look at me like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. I heard the way you were chatting her up at the stables yesterday.”

“First of all, she was the one who was chattin’ me up, thank you very much,” Joel mutters to her gruffly. “And second, what the hell were you doin’ hangin’ around and listenin’ to us? I thought I’d told you to go get lunch, not stick around and eavesdrop.”

“I didn’t wanna miss anything good,” Ellie replies, peering up at him. “You know that she’s married, don’t you?”

“Ellie,” he says her name warningly and looks around, hoping no one had been overhearing their conversation.

“Just making sure you knew that, Joel.”

“Yeah, I know she’s married,” he says, hoping that the teenager couldn’t pick up on the sour edge to his tone. He glances at Ellie, and wonders what all exactly she knew about you. Though he knows better than to ask her, he stupidly does so anyway. “You meet the guy yet?”

Ellie bites back another wide smirk, taking note of the way Joel had so easily let his curiosity get the better of him. “Nope. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t really talk about him much, either.” She shrugs, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “And from what I know, they don’t have any kids together.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t ask you if they had kids.”

“No, but I know you were wondering if they did,” Ellie states in a matter of fact tone. “Whether or not she’s happily married, I can find that out for you too, if you want me to. Just call me Sherlock fucking Holmes and I’ll crack the case.”

His mouth falls open slightly at what she’d been implying.

As if he would actually go after a married woman.

Joel finally speaks, his voice rigid. “Ellie, that ain’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny, believe it or not.” She notices the way his jaw clenches and shrugs her shoulders once again. “What?” she bats her eyes innocently, as if she had seen nothing wrong with the statement she had just made. “Oh come on, Joel. You can’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit curious about her marriage.”

“I ain’t,” he lies straight through his teeth. “It ain’t none of my business, and it sure as hell ain’t none of yours either, so don’t you go pokin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong, you understand me? Don’t need you goin’ around and causin’ trouble.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Don’t get so worked up, man. Can’t be good for your blood pressure.”

“Little shit,” he mutters.

Joel and Ellie make it to their destination just after sunset and by that time, the party had started and was already in full swing. The commune’s barn had been completely transformed, cleaned up and cleared out—a dozen tables or so surrounded a decent sized dance floor and bright lights had been strung from the rafters as well as all along the outside of the structure, bringing the place to life. There’s a live band playing music on a small, makeshift stage and the scent of delicious barbecue wafts through the air, causing Ellie’s stomach to grumble.

Joel glances around, hoping it isn’t obvious to the kid as to who he’s looking for, but she’s far too busy processing everything to even notice.

“Whoa. This is so weird,” Ellie mumbles under her breath as she takes in her surroundings. Though she had seemed to be thoroughly confused by it all, he detects the glimmer of curious fascination in her wide brown eyes.

“Joel! Ellie!”

Grinning, you wave your hand as you weave your way through the crowd towards them.

Joel’s throat bobs and goes sandpaper dry at the sight of you. It feels like someone had just driven their fist into his gut and knocked all the wind out of his lungs.

The pale yellow frock you’re donning is strapless with a subtle sweetheart neckline, short with a flowing skirt that falls to the middle of your thighs. You’ve dressed it down, pairing it with tan brown cowboy boots that look like they’ve seen better days, and a cropped denim vest. Your hair is loose around your shoulders and there’s a delicate white daisy tucked behind your ear. Simple, but it’s enough to take his breath away. “Hey!” you greet them, excitedly. “You guys made it!”

“Whoa, nice dress, princess,” Ellie nudges you, offering a playful grin in return. She’d been so used to seeing you in your flannel and jeans at the stables—though she’s teasing, there’s a twinkle of admiration in her eyes as she looks at you. It’s a world of a difference to see you when you’re not dirty, sweaty, and wearing boots covered in horse shit.

You nudge her right back and then turn to Joel. “You look very nice,” you compliment, subtly admiring the way that his shirt fits the broad planes of his chest and his shoulders.

“He showered for once. Doesn’t he look pretty?” Ellie jeers, causing him to roughly smack her shoulder. She rubs the spot where he’d hit her, making a face at him. “Relax man, it was a fucking joke. Jesus.”

Ignoring her, Joel shifts his attention back to you. “You look real nice too.”

“Thank you, Joel.” There’s a hint of shyness in your smile.

He couldn’t be too sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he’d just seen you give his form another once over.

“I’m really glad you two decided to join us.” Gesturing around with your hands, you ask, “What do you guys think?”

“It’s some shindig, that’s for sure,” Joel remarks, taking another glimpse around. He aches to take another look at you, let his eyes glaze over every last inch of you, but he knows better, especially with his loud mouth kid standing right there in the middle.

“It’s like I told you yesterday, Joel. People still know how to get down and party,” you wink at him and his heart skips a nervous beat. “Come with me, I’ll get you guys a couple of drinks.”

“Drinks?” Ellie’s face is hopeful. “What kind of drinks?”

“Nonalcoholic for you, missy.” You flick her shoulder, causing Joel to chuckle. “The drinking age in Jackson is eighteen, although some kids can have a drink or two at sixteen on special occasions as long as their parents are around to supervise them.”

“Well, I’m fifteen. That’s close enough to sixteen. And I’ve got my supervisor right here.” She jabs her thumb over her shoulder at Joel. “I can have a real drink tonight, right Joel?”

He snorted. “Not a fuckin’ chance in hell, kiddo.”

She scowls. “Fucking party pooper.”

You lead them over to one of several coolers that are strategically placed around the barn and pull out a bottle of fresh squeezed lemonade for Ellie and a bottle of beer for Joel. Twisting off the cap, he takes his first sip of the homemade brew and makes a face, coughing and sputtering at the taste. “Jesus Christ, that’s fuckin’ awful.”

“Sorry, I should have warned you that Seth is still trying to perfect his beer recipe,” you giggle into the palm of your hand. “His whiskey is a whole lot better, but it’s really strong. I wanted to start you off light.”

In the distance, you see Esther watching Joel with hungry eyes from across the barn. She’s turning heads in the skintight, cherry red dress she’s wearing underneath her denim jacket—the material hugs every single curve tightly, accentuating her perfect figure. She’s nursing a glass of something or other, probably still working up the courage to introduce herself to Joel. You’d hoped that by the time she was finally ready to make her move, you’d find it in yourself to accept it with grace.

Or be somewhat drunk enough not to care.

The band on stage finishes up their rendition of Life is a Highway and everyone in the barn breaks into whistling cheers and thunderous applause.

Impressed with their talent, even Ellie finds herself clapping her free hand against her thigh with genuine enthusiasm.

The band moves onto their next song and the familiar tune of one of your favorite songs, Dancing in The Moonlight, instantly takes your mind off of Esther and lifts your spirits.

“Oh, I love this song!” you exclaim. “Ellie, dance with me!”

“Wait, what in the fuck—” Ellie gasps as you grab her hand and started tugging her along behind you. She immediately glances at Joel for help. He simply chuckles as he plucks her lemonade from her hand and lets you drag her a few feet away to a spot on the dance floor.

Smiling, you spin her around a couple of times and then take both her hands in yours as you start leading her in the dance. It takes Ellie a minute or two, but she eventually stops resisting and gives in, moving along with you.

“Yeah, there you go!” you beam, encouraging her. “That’s it!”

“Oh, I’m so gonna fucking kill you for this!” Ellie threatens, however, her eyes are sparkling and she’s laughing. Her fingers squeeze yours. “Hey, this song’s pretty fucking cool! I like it!”

Taking a swig of his beer, Joel watches as you and Ellie dance together.

He feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes drink in the sight of his girl smiling brightly—she looks happy, so ridiculously happy, and he wishes there was a way for him to bottle up this memory just like a scent, one that never faded or grew stale. He would give just about anything to have it stashed away, available for him to open up whenever he wanted so he could relive the moment all over again, for as many times as he needed.

“Everybody here is out of sight, they don’t bark and they don’t bite,” you sing the lyrics to her as you twirl her around once more. “They keep things loose, they keep ‘em tight, everybody was dancing in the moonlight—”

“This is so fucking weird,” Ellie laughs again, mustering the courage to finally take a turn and spin you around. She grasps your hand tightly in hers and her opposite hand flies to your waist. She eventually finds the constant beat to the song and connects rhythmically with you, her moves falling in sync with yours, though she would still take a clumsy step here and there.

As the band moves into the next verse of the song, your gaze meets Joel’s from the dance floor and you lean forward, whispering something to Ellie.

She eagerly nods her head, shouting, “Fuck yeah! Do it!”

Ellie drops her hands away from you and you leave her alone on the dance floor for a moment. Rushing up to Joel, you take his bottle of beer and set it down on the table beside him before reaching for his hand.

The contented smile on his face vanishes. “Darlin’ what are you—?”

“Come on! Come and dance with us!” you chirp, dragging him over towards where Ellie’s waiting, an amused smirk plastered onto her face as soon as she sees the flabbergasted look on his.

“I—I don’t dance.” Joel quickly tries to tell you. He makes an attempt to stop you from pulling him any further, but you’re a lot fucking stronger than you look and he doesn’t stand a chance. “I can’t dance!”

“Don’t be silly!” You dismiss him over your shoulder, shaking your head. “Everybody can dance!”

“Come on, Joel!” Ellie shouts, taking his other hand in hers. “Let’s see you shake what you got!”

In his peripheral vision, Joel notices a few people gawking, watching in bewilderment as the two standoffish newcomers dance with you, the town’s resident sweetheart.

“Joel, relax,” you call out over the music, shaking his hand. “Don’t be so uptight! Loosen up a little!”

He tries his hardest to do just that. Though he’s too embarrassed to fully comply with your request, at some point, he does find himself moving a little less like the tinman.

The three of you sway to the upbeat music together in your own little corner of the dance floor.

Holding your hand in one of his and Ellie’s in the other, Joel finally decides to let go and allows himself to enjoy the moment, regardless of how terrible of a dancer he is. He moves with the two of you along to the music, a deep belly laugh escaping him as Ellie tries to spin him around—their significant height difference makes it impossible, and all she does is mess up his hair as her arm brushes right over his head.

You try spinning him too, but you’re not all that much taller than Ellie. Joel bends his knees slightly and ignores their protest long enough for you to give him a twirl.

When the song ends, the three of you move off of the dance floor and back over towards the table where their drinks are waiting for them.

“Gotta give you credit. You’ve got some moves, old man,” Ellie states, taking a sip of her lemonade. Beads of sweat drip down the side of her face and she wipes them away with the sleeve of her shirt. “Little on the stiff side, but not bad for being fifty six with creaking knees.”

You muffle your snort of laughter with your hand.

Joel glowers, but truth be told, he can’t even be mad at her for the jab. He’d finally caught a glimpse of Ellie being truly, genuinely happy, the way she deserves to be—and it was all thanks to you.

“Hello!”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smile as Dina comes up to the three of you. She seems nervous—you can tell by the way that she’s already pulling at her sunflower printed dress.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You kiss her cheek and then introduce her. “Joel, Ellie, this is my niece, Dina. Dina, this is Joel and Ellie.”

Ellie flushes a deep shade of red as she recognizes her from her first day in Jackson.

“What about her manners?” She remembered snapping when she’d noticed the dark haired girl hiding behind a wooden pillar in the mess hall, staring at Ellie as if she were some kind of freakshow.

“Ellie,” Joel mutters her name, jabbing his elbow into her shoulder. “Say hello.”

“Oh—um, hey,” she greets her awkwardly with a wave of her hand.

“Would you like to go grab something to eat with me?” Dina offers shyly as she gestures over towards the grill.

Ellie nervously glances up at Joel, as if she were silently asking him for guidance on what to do.

“Go on,” he encourages her. “Just stay out of trouble, alright?”

She hesitates, but then turns back to Dina and nods her head. “Okay.”

Reluctantly, she follows Dina over to the other side of the barn. The girls each grab a plate, get in line, and make their way up to Tommy, who not only seems pleasantly surprised to see Ellie, but to see her with someone other than his brother.

“Niece, huh?” Joel questions, taking another sip of his beer.

You’re not surprised.

Dina doesn’t look all that much like you, he’s probably thinking.

“Technically, she is. My husband is her uncle,” you explain, briefly. “After her parents passed away, he and his other niece, her older sister, Talia, they both raised Dina together. We were all living together under one roof until Maria decided Talia was old enough to be assigned a place of her own a couple of years ago.”

“Speakin’ of your husband.” Joel anxiously shoves his free hand into his pocket. He wasn’t sure how he’s only just now noticing the thin, gold wedding band around your ring finger. Seeing it causes an odd feeling to begin boiling in the pits of his stomach—the ring only confirms what he wished wasn’t true. “I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet. He, uh—he around here somewhere?”

“No, he isn’t. He decided to stay home tonight. Luke isn’t a big fan of these kind of things—besides, he’s always tired from working.”

Joel observes the way you uncomfortably shuffle from foot to foot and he wonders if maybe it’s because you’re missing him. The thought only makes the foreign feeling in his stomach intensify. “He’s the doctor around here, ain’t he?”

You nod. “He is.”

Before you have the chance to change the subject, you catch a glimpse of Esther making her way over towards you and Joel.

Your heart sinks deeply in your chest, similarly to the way it had earlier when she’d told you about Tommy wanting to set them up together. Again, you’re forced to remind yourself that you don’t have any right to feel this way.

She slinks up to the both of you—it’s clear she’s already tossed a number of drinks back and had quite the buzz going on. “Hi there,” she practically purrs at Joel. She glances at you, as if she’s waiting for you to introduce them to one another. Of course she would assume that you’d be her wingwoman. Hell, what reason would she have not to think that you would be willing to lend a hand and help set her up with him?

She’s not the one with a husband waiting at home.

“Joel, this is my friend, Esther,” you finally speak, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as shaky to either of them as it does to you. “Esther, this is Joel Miller. He’s Tommy’s older brother.”

“Nice to meet you.” Joel takes her hand, giving it a brief shake before quickly dropping it.

“Now, I know you didn’t give him Seth’s shitty ass beer to drink. We all know his whiskey is way, way better,” Esther comments, shaking her head as she offers him her best, flirty smile. “Come with me, cowboy. Let’s go and get you a real drink over at the bar.”

“Oh no, that’s alright. M’perfectly fine—” Before Joel can finish protesting, Esther takes his bottle, hands it over to you, and then grabs his hand, dragging him off towards the bar.

Frowning, he looks over his shoulder at you and you have no choice but to make an encouraging gesture with your hand as if to tell him to go and have a good time.

Once Joel and Esther are out of your sight, you lift the bottle to your lips, draining every last drop of his beer in one swallow. You pivot on the heel of your boot and start towards a group of friendly, familiar faces in hopes that some mindless chatter would be enough to get your mind off of things and tame the jealousy that’s clawing furiously at your insides.

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