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bluejeanstrash · 7 months

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vampires pt. 2 | pt. 1 | pt. 3

tags: 2.7k, vampire! seventeen x human reader, 18+, mdni, dubcon, mind control, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism, threesome (mmf) (mingyu x wonwoo x reader), bdsm, hardcore humiliation and degradation (verbal and physical)

wonwoo hates humans. doesn’t think they’re good for anything other than being warm holes he can cum in. he’s not interested in your muffled pleas for mercy, nor does he care that your throat is obviously closing around him — his cock constricting your airways. it’s not like you can push him back; it’s forbidden to touch him.

‘she might choke’ jeonghan muses, nibbling on one of his sharp nails.

‘you think? i think she can take it’ joshua smiles, remembering the last time he made you take it — he had you begging at his feet to stop.

wonwoo’s got his cock stuffed all the way down your throat — bruising your insides, triggering your gag reflex. he’s been holding your head firm with both hands, satisfied groans spilling out of his mouth. you’re not sure how much longer you can breathe and that’s exactly what he’s after. wonwoo loved pushing humans to the brink, allowing them that desperate dose of life at the last second. that gulp of air was euphoric for his human and for him, orgasmic.

he knows seeing your hands start to tremble with lack of air that it’s time to release you. ‘fuck-k’ he groans, watching you gasp, trying to drink in as much oxygen as possible.

‘open your fucking mouth’ you stick out your tongue obediently, feeling faint. there's a sharp inhale followed by a low exhale as he cums, intentionally missing your mouth to cum on your forehead instead. immediately, the room erupts into laughter watching the liquid drip down your face, painting your black blindfold with streaks of white.

he joins in, pushing your head back with a chuckle ‘stupid human’

you stay there, tongue out, kneeling, feeling it run down your skin, embarrassment seeping in. how stupid you must've looked.

‘hold your hands out’ he orders, pulling you out of your thoughts.

you bring them up, palms facing the sky and with a heavy grunt, he squeezes the last bit of cum onto your hands, the thick liquid coating your fingers.

‘thank you master’ wonwoo smirks, zipping up before grabbing your chain and turning you to the audience. he stands behind you, wrapping the chain around his hand, showing you off like he’s your owner.

‘now we’re going to show them a trick. spread’ you sit on the freezing floor, spreading open.

‘you’re going to play with yourself with my cum. show everyone how you touch yourself’

‘fun!’ jeonghan sits up; he loved when something new was introduced to the show. even through the thick blindfold, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, your nipples becoming hard at the thought.

'quickly. what are you, teasing us?' wonwoo snaps, jerking at your collar.

you bring your coated fingers to your cunt, slowly mixing his cum in with your own sticky fluids, and suddenly there’s that voice in your head again — the one you’re sure doesn’t belong to you.

‘you’re a pathetic human’ it whispers ‘tell them’

‘i-i’m a pathetic human’ you announce making jeonghan cackle at the unexpectedness. he’s thoroughly amused.

‘just look at what you’ve been reduced to. rubbing yourself with my cum as a room full of people watch’ wonwoo’s demeaning words make your fingers move faster.

'push it inside you' he commands and you take two fingers — wet with his cum and your own juices — and stick them in, depositing his seed inside you for everyone to see.

‘such an obedient whore’ joshua praises, his gaze fixed on your fingers ‘does that feel good?’

you nod, whining. it wasn’t so much the feeling as it was how you were being watched right now, exposing something so private to everyone. you speed up, thinking of all the eyes on you but the more you do, the more you want to cum, and you’re never allowed to without permission.

‘can i please cum master?’ you try.

‘absolutely fucking not’ wonwoo snaps, walking in front and kicking your hand away. how dare you ask him already.

‘oh?’ jeonghan notices your fingers which are now soaked with just your juices and none of wonwoo’s ‘she has no cum left on her fingers’ he pouts, no longer finding this fun.

‘come on’ wonwoo suddenly pulls at your collar, dragging you across the floor as you fumble to get on all-fours.

'take her to the bed' a sweet, melodic voice from the shadows suggests.

the bed as they liked to call it was not an actual bed. no, that would be too nice. it was a wooden bondage table with restraints to hold you in place. you, like others before you, were just a slave, there to put on a show and so the dungeon had everything — toys, tools, and contraptions to make sure the show was worth watching.

wonwoo bends you over the table, the hard wood uncomfortable already, and cuffs you — ankles tied to either foot and wrists bound to opposite corners.

‘wonwoo’ there’s a smile in jeonghan’s voice ‘use that on her. she gets soaked. it feels great to fuck’ you can’t see but you know exactly what he’s referring to. accidentally discovered by joshua when you were first brought here, the bullwhip had become their favourite toy.

new slaves were always initiated with a little lesson — mostly to discipline but mainly for entertainment. much to their surprise you had started to gush uncontrollably, cumming at the slightest touch after. unfortunately, they all had to use you and seungcheol was strictly against visible bruises. so they would only use it when he was away.

‘so you like feeling pain?’ wonwoo picks it off the wall, wrapping the whip around his fingers and pulling to hear the tautness. he lets it loose, the tip dragging across the ground.

you can hear his footsteps circle you as you breathe slow. any moment now.

‘at least you know your place-’ there’s a deafening crack as the leather hits your skin, making you yelp, your body jerking forward on your tip-toes from the shooting pain.

‘-and human slaves should always know their place’ he hits you again as you scream out, feeling the sting in your cunt.

you can tell from the way he cracks the whip that he’s done this a million times before. today his lashes are quick and highly controlled — more pleasurable, less punishing. through the haze of the radiating pain, you hear footsteps — light and silent — ones that belong to him and your cunt aches for what’s coming next.

jeonghan saunters over; his bony fingers on your hair, stroking and petting, while wonwoo grazes the whip over your searing skin. you could cum from this alone. you don’t know what it was but the pain of punishment paired with gentle care made your mind go numb and enter that place — one of quiet submission.

‘hit her again. you can take it, can’t you?’ jeonghan coaxes ‘you can take one more. i know you can’

whip. crack. pain. pleasure.

he strokes your cheek with his thumb as it hits, sliding it down to your quivering lips and pushing past them; and like every other time before this, you start sucking on it ‘give her another one. harder’

wonwoo cracks the whip again as you cry out in pain, immediately sucking on jeonghan’s thumb for comfort. your skin, now red and raised, is another lash away from breaking and jeonghan knows wonwoo won’t be able to control himself if it does.

‘i think she’s ready’

wonwoo walks behind you, grabbing your ass cheeks and spreading them open ‘look at that..’

you’re slick with arousal, your cunt glistening with your sopping wetness. wonwoo licks his lips, thinking about how warm and ready your cunt must feel. he needs his cock inside you, and he’s not the only one in the room that does. there’s another vampire, one in the darkness, tugging on his pants, trying to bury his desire.

wonwoo pulls his cock out, stroking himself erect before slapping his hard dick against your entrance. he slides the tip up and down, taking all your arousal and then pushes in, a low satisfied groan escaping his lips as he feels your warmth envelop him.

his cock is thick and long, and you can feel him so deep inside you. wonwoo’s thrusts are rough, each one sharp and selfish. he fucks you cruelly, using you like your nothing more than a fucktoy. it’s honestly a perfect view for the audience — hands cuffed, blindfolded and your mouth wide open as you moan in both pleasure and pain. the vampire in the darkness tugs at his pants again.

'mingyu' jeonghan sighs, bored by his hesitation 'just fuck her’ poor mingyu. he was always so cautious, unwilling to hurt humans without reassurance from his coven.

‘look, her mouth is empty. go. go feed her’

there’s a hesitant silence after which you hear footsteps — heavy and clumsy — as mingyu approaches.

'is it okay?' mingyu’s words cause an uproar of laughter. he was like that — polite — even before killing his prey, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

'he asked you if it’s okay’ joshua repeats.

‘it-it’s okay’

‘okay?’ wonwoo snarls, put off by your answer.

‘tell him it’s a fucking honour’ he grabs you by the hair, pulling on it to angle your face up towards mingyu.

‘beg for it bitch’

'pl-ease’ you stutter, suddenly nervous. wonwoo slides his hands down, wrapping both around your throat and pressing tight so it’s harder for you to speak.

‘beg louder’

‘please stick your cock in my mouth, master. please master, i want to be used by you’ you strain through every word. thankfully mingyu’s not one for teasing. he immediately unzips his pants, pulling out and pressing his cock to your lips as wonwoo lets go.

he rubs his wet tip against your lips, back and forth, before pushing past them. ‘fuc-k’ mingyu whines, gripping the table as he forces his entire length in in one go ‘your mouth is so warm'

and too small to fit him. he’s huge. maybe even the biggest out of all of them and you just can’t do it. your mouth closes around him, teeth grazing his throbbing flesh.

‘oh..s-she can’t take it’

‘she will’ wonwoo leans ahead, hooking two fingers on either side of your mouth to stretch you open. you feel utterly humiliated; imagining just how pathetic you look as mingyu puts his cock back in, letting out a breathy moan of satisfaction.

somewhere in the audience jeonghan smiles, exchanging a look with joshua, knowing they’ll need you in this position for next time.

wonwoo keeps you hooked and starts thrusting, fucking you onto mingyu’s cock. the sensation of two cocks sliding in and out of either end was something you’d started to crave after being used by those two.

mingyu matches his pace to wonwoo’s, both pulling out completely and then filling up your empty holes at once. it’s not just your body that’s stimulated; the way mingyu’s rising whimpers pair with wonwoo’s hard grunts makes your brain buzz.

‘..so good’ you hear mingyu mutter to himself. wonwoo’s thrusts turn harder, his skin slapping against yours, each one making your bruises burn. you moan at the pain, the vibrations of which mingyu feels all over his cock. ‘f-fuck yes’ he whines, getting closer with each moan. you didn’t expect him to be such a sadist, but here he was, pulsing in your mouth.

‘i n-need to cum’ mingyu pants, pulling out and masturbating himself in front of your face ‘i want you to watch me cum on you’ he pulls your blindfold down, feeling his cock twitch as your eyes meet.

‘you’re so pretty’ he whimpers, cupping your face with a hand as continues touching himself with the other. fragile, captive humans were so pretty to mingyu that he could cum just by seeing that helpless look in their eyes.

‘keep looking. right at me. y-yes, just like that’ he moans, his grip tightening around his head. there’s only one thing that could make this moment better — seeing your eyes brimming with tears.

it’s like wonwoo knows and suddenly, so abruptly, there’s a sharp shooting pain as he spanks you, the impact of his palm on your bruises making you wail, your eyes wet with fresh tears. ‘p-perfect’ mingyu moans, pushed over the edge.

‘fuck, i’m going to-’ he cums prematurely, trying to shoot it in your mouth but misses, shooting ropes and ropes of thick white cum all over the place. some of it paints your face, but most spills onto the table, pooling in little pockets. mingyu often came messy like that; especially when he was so eager to.

‘s-sorry’ he apologises — not to you but to the audience for ruining his cumshot.

‘we don’t apologise in front of lowly humans, and look, this will be more fun’ joshua walks over, pulling your blindfold back up before pressing your face flat against the table.

‘now what did we say about manners? you shouldn’t waste your food. lick it clean’ he orders. you hesitate for a second before sticking your tongue out, aimlessly licking the wood beneath you until you taste mingyu’s sour cum.

‘disgusting whore’ it’s nothing short of a compliment for joshua.

watching you slurp mingyu’s cum while your face is covered with more is strangely arousing for wonwoo. he picks up the pace, his aggressive thrusts making your tongue clean the table. ‘dirty whore’ he mutters, angling his hips up and shoving his cock in to reach your most sensitive spot. you squeeze around him so tight, moaning uncontrollably. so he keeps stimulating it, over and over, hungry for more; and a few seconds later you just can’t take it anymore.

‘please master, can i cum?’ desperate words spill out of your mouth without a second thought.

‘huh? you want to cum?’

‘yes, please’ he yanks a fistful of your hair, lifting your head up.

‘ask them’ he points you to the faceless audience ‘ask them for permission’

‘please let me cum, please, please, p-please’

‘what do we think?’ joshua pretends to care but he’s already made up his mind. he has no plans of letting you cum today; he wants your desperation to build so when him and jeonghan are playing with you, it’ll be that much more fun.

‘no, the slave can’t cum today’ jeonghan hums, having the same thought.

wonwoo pushes your face back down ‘see, they don’t think you deserve it. worthless whores like you don’t deserve to feel pleasure, they’re just gaping holes to cum inside’ he grips your waist, pressing you into the table; his thrusts harder, deeper, faster.

‘pleas-e’ you’re desperate.

‘shut up or i’ll rip your fucking throat out’ wonwoo growls, digging his icy fingers into your bruises as you scream, his thrusts now frenzied. the sound of him mercilessly pounding into you fills the room and he lets out a final groan, cumming, a sudden burst of liquid filling you up.

‘fuck’ he groans, pulsing inside you, dumping every last bit of his cum in your hole. he spreads your ass, pulling out as his cum slowly trickles out of you. it’s the perfect cumshot but wonwoo’s distracted by something far more appealing — the red bruises on your ass, so close to bleeding.

he wants you so bad. not yet he tells himself. it would be a shame to not fuck you again.

‘who’s next?’

the rest of the night is a blur. you’re used continuously, cum dripping out of every hole — your mouth, your cunt, your ass — as the show finally comes to an end.

‘you’ve put on such a good show today’ jeonghan praises ‘everyone clap!’

there’s a resounding applause during which wonwoo finally pulls your blindfold off and your eyes dart around the room searching for the one person you haven’t heard a single word from — seungcheol.

‘are you looking for someone?’

you shake your head, quickly dropping your gaze. wonwoo bends, whispering it like he’s letting you in on a secret ‘he left. a long time ago. the moment you pushed my cum into your dirty cunt he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore’ and suddenly you’re wracked with an all-consuming guilt.

he gazes into your guilty eyes, that snarky little smile returning to his lips.

yes, wonwoo hates human but there is one thing he truly loves about them — their useless emotions, and right now he’s elated you’re drowning in yours.

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stqrgirlie0 · 1 month

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⋆✮theodore nott-pt 3✮⋆

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 theodore’s most nightmarish memory that he remembers was of the week of his mothers death. angry men dressed in black would patrol the hallways, occupy the dining room and take up every ounce of what theo used to call his home. night after night theo would toss and turn in his bed, struggling to sleep with deranged laughter echoing from downstairs. he hated his father, he truly did, but theo couldn’t deny how his heart quenched when he heard his father’s blood curdling scream reverberating through the empty halls one night. despite being only 8 years of age, theo knew what it meant. his fathers loyalty didn’t lie with him or with the name of Nott, but instead with you know who. not only did this fuck theo up a lot, it also fostered a fear of abandonment and trust issues- explaining why he stayed away from relationships for the beginning of his school life. the week flew by and suddenly he lost both his mother and his father, a pain that he would never want to inflict on anyone; not even his worst enemy. narcissa, knowing of Theo’s hardships and struggles, tried her best to keep theo distracted and welcomed into the Malfoy family. (4th year) theo and Draco eventually slightly drifted off, leading their own lives, Draco focused more on his relationship with Astoria, while theo focused on his friendship with Mattheo. Draco was a great friend to Theo, but things eventually get harder when you can’t relate about anything with the other person. Theo came from a severely broken family, whereas Draco didn’t. Draco had a shitty father as well I’ll admit that, but despite both of the father’s prioritising you know who’s desires, Lucius still provided for Draco. better still, he provided the best for Draco whereas Theo’s father only just provided the bare minimum for theo. Mattheo saw right through Theo’s facade of being “okay”, because Mattheo remembered when he was in the same position. not okay, no one to talk to, no family, nothing. having someone to talk to whenever he wanted, about whatever he wanted was a lot of help for theo, instead of bottling up his feelings, he was able to express them and talk about them. and this is what lead to your first interaction with theo.

It was about 10:30pm, half an hour after curfew, and instead of being in bed and getting sleep, you were wandering the halls ‘getting fresh air’ as you told pansy and Daphne. the atmosphere was eerily quiet, apart from the occasional creak of floorboards under your feet, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of loneliness. dim torches flickered along the stone walls, casting elongated shadows that danced and swayed with every rush of air. the portraits lining the corridors were silent, their occupants fast asleep or watching your journey with curious eyes. you moved cautiously, the echo of your footsteps reverberated through the empty corridors, as you made your way to the scary stairs of the astronomy tower. unknowingly walking in on theo, his head lifted up and you immediately stopped in your tracks. the moonlight travelled in through the open space, casting ethereal beams onto theo’s face. a breathtaking view.

‘looking for someone?’ he snapped you out of your thoughts. you slowly moved towards the bench he sat on. ‘no, just getting a bit of fresh air,’ you internally cringed at the floorboard creaking beneath your feet as you took a seat on the same bench. ‘what are doing here?’ ‘waiting for Mattheo.’ he says, burning holes through you with his intense gaze. ‘oh, do you want me to leave so th-’ ‘No need, stay.’ as you sat beside theo on the bench, the tension between you and him was solid in the silent night air. his gaze was intense, almost analysing, and you found yourself momentarily at a loss for words. you looked away, admiring the beautiful night sky. theo's presence, unexpected yet strangely comforting, filled the night with a new sense of intimacy. you stole a glance at him, the moonlight tracing the contours of his face, casting shadows that accentuated his features. there was a vulnerability to him in this moment, something that both intrigued and captivated you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound being the soft rustle of the night breeze through the open space. you found yourself drawn to theo, to the mystery that surrounds him, and the unspoken connection that seemed to exist between you.

breaking the silence, you finally mustered the courage to speak. "why are you waiting for Mattheo?" you asked, curiosity lacing your words.

theo's expression softened slightly at your question, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "just... needed to talk to him about something," he replied vaguely, his eyes never leaving yours. you nod, sensing that there was more to his answer than he was letting on, an unspoken understanding between you two spoke louder than his words. as the silence stretched between you and theo, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the silence of the night. you both turned your heads towards the entrance of the astronomy tower, where Mattheo appeared, his figure outlined by the moonlight filtering in.

there was a moment of surprise followed by a warm smile as Mattheo spotted you and theo sitting together. "Hey, what are you two doing here?" he asks, his tone curious but friendly.

"oh nothing, think I'll leave you two to catch up," you said your voice light but tinged with a hint of reluctance. "nice seeing you theo, bye Mattheo.”

you turned on your heel and made your way towards the exit of the astronomy tower, the sound of their voices echoing behind you. As you stepped out into the cool night air, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for the chance to retreat into the peace of the castle.

following from this interaction, your relationship with theo blossomed into a genuine ‘friendship’. within the classroom; friendly rivals and behind closed doors; two lovers. to the student eye, glances were stolen, banters were laughed at and comebacks were retorted. but only you two knew how hands were joined, kisses were stolen and clothes were removed (🤭)

everything about theo in a relationship was perfection, he was respectful, loving and warm-hearted- everything you could ever want in a man.

#okay idk where i went with this one😭😭 #idk if y’all want a pt 4 but if you guys do I wouldn’t mind taking in suggestions of what you’d want me to include! #if you have suggestion for pt 4 do send it in an ask🙏🙏 #would be much appreciated bcs I’m running out of ideas ibsr #love y’all xoxo

taglist: @iamgayforyourmom1510 @lovelyygirl8

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy

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dingus11111 · 2 months

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Heya! Request from @legendaryflowercheesecake

Night Creature!Edouard x Night Creature!Male Reader PT. 2!!

Warnings: NSFW because of his dream, male!reader, teratophilia, Soft Edouard, OOC (whoops), jealous!reader, bottom!male!reader.

PT. 1!!

Soft breathing puffed onto your left ear. You were sitting in Edouard’s lap, sleeping. You took comfort in his large frame enveloping you to seemingly protect you from the dangers of the world. You slept peacefully. Edouard smiled softly, relishing in the moment. Soaking up the feelings that he felt. His eye’s began to close as he brought one of his arms to caress your back lovingly.

“Sleep well..” Edouard mumbled.

He began to drift to sleep. A dream popped into his brain. A happy dream. A good dream. He dreamt of being free with you in his arms. Of him kissing you until you couldn’t breathe. Of him holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Of him kissing you, and gently making love to you.

He dreamt of him pinning you to a mattress so that you were comfortable. He would put your legs over his shoulders and press his forehead to yours. The hands covering his eyes would be open. His blue, piercing gaze would wash over your sight like the clear, blue ocean would to sand. He would stroke your cock to the rhythm of his thrusts. A composer to your music made up of your moans. The lewd, slick noises your hole would create. The sounds of your sharp nails against his back. He would make a symphony out of you that you would wish to experience eternally. He would make you orgasm over and over, making you feel pleasure almost unimaginable. He wanted nothing more than that.

CLANK!

Edouard’s eyes shot open and so did yours. You quickly looked behind you and got off of his lap. The woman behind the metal bars of the cell was just as surprised as both of you were.

The woman had black locks that had metal jewelry in them. Her skin was dark and beautiful. She was wearing a light mustard vest with a white, long sleeve shirt underneath. A thick, red belt was situated at her waist. The belt had accents of sky blue, black, and yellow. She had black, comfortable looking pants on that made you almost jealous of her due to you only wearing a loincloth.

“Annette!” Edouard leaped forward.

“So he knows her.” You thought.

Annette looked at you and then back at Edouard.

“Who or what is that?” Annette asked.

Edouard stepped towards you and picked you up with ease, carrying you bridal style. You blushed softly.

“This is M/N.” Edouard introduced you.

“Oh.” She replied, sounding almost hurt.

You grumbled ever so slightly at Annette. You just found out who she is, and you already don’t exactly like her.

Suddenly, a vampire and a few night creatures began to chase after Annette. They were too busy with her to realize that you and Edouard were both in the same cell. You hugged Edouard deeply.

“Never let me go.” You mumbled.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Hope you enjoyed! I got kinda lazy with this one. 😭😭😭

#fanfiction #castlevania #castlevania nocturne #x male reader #bottom male reader #male reader smut #castlevania edouard #x bottom male reader #sub male reader #male reader #castlevania x reader

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pickmans-muse · 3 months

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TW: violence, gore, female reader, cursing

When Muzan sniffs the wind, and catches the scent of human, he hisses softly, his lips peeling back from his pointed teeth.

He’s not pleased. He hasn’t seen or smelled a human in decades—and now that he’s managed to carve out a territory, there’s one coming back to the mountain? Hell no.

He jumps between the trees, gracefully leaping from branch to branch. He’s going down the mountain, down to the foothills where the scent’s coming from. There’s a house there, he remembers—humans used to live there, hunters, before he killed them all. So, some foolish human’s moved back in.

They’ll be a foolish, dead human soon, before they get near his kin.

He thinks of Rui, caught in an iron-toothed trap and crying like a fawn. He thinks of Gyutaro and Daki, starving and exhausted, driven from their forest to his. He thinks of Zohakuten, trying to carry his brother’s body through the snow, leaving a black trail of blood behind them.

No human will touch them again.

When he lands on the long bough of an oak that stands beside the small house, Muzan notices the gray car drawn up out front, and the boxes on the porch. His nose wrinkles. This isn’t good. The human’s planning to stay.

He doesn’t see one, so he drops down, and takes out his anger on several of the nearest boxes. His claws shred through cardboard, tape, and everything inside—which turns out to be pillows, blankets, and a few clothes. Irritated, he swipes at another box, intent on finding the traps or guns or nets—and his claws shatter glass. The pieces stick in his fingers, and he snarls in pained surprise. He leans over, and sees a small drawing in a frame. His claws broke the glass covering it, but they didn’t rip the drawing.

It’s simple, black lines on cream paper. He cocks his head, and the lines resolve into a forest, waterfall, and pool of water. It’s strangely beautiful, appreciative of the woods and the water in a way Muzan couldn’t imagine from a human.

“Yeah, I heard something outside. It’s probably just some small animal or something. Don’t they have tanukis here?”

Muzan, startled, scrambles up the side of the house and onto the roof. His hands ache and sting, the glass still stuck in the skin.

A human comes out, a phone pressed to her ear. He can tell she’s female, smell it on her. Usually, humans use phones to tell others to come, to join the hunt—but she’s saying, “No, no, I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to come, Aunt Reese, I’m serious. It’s perfect.”

She slips the phone into a pocket of her clothes, and then she notices the wreckage of the boxes.

“What the hell?” she murmurs, squatting to examine the scattered remnants of pillows and bedding and clothes. “Okay, that definitely wasn’t a tanuki.”

When she sees the other box, she gasps and tears it open, sagging with relief when she finds the drawing unharmed. And then she notices the broken glass, which, Muzan suddenly realizes, has his dark blood on it.

“Oh, wow,” she murmurs. “What are you?”

She starts sorting things into piles—unusable, and usable, Muzan thinks—and sighs a few times. She seems more attached to her belongings than he expected. Maybe if he rips up more boxes, she’ll leave.

But he’s going to pick the glass out of his skin first.

You learned very quickly that whatever it was, it didn’t care for your presence in the house.

Every morning, you woke up to find something broken, scratched to ribbons, or just plain unrecognizable. At first, it was just your car—the tires ripped up, the glass smashed, huge divots torn out of the metal like butter—and then the house. Windows scratched, screens with gaping holes. It was like living in a haunted house, and it always happened at night.

But it hadn’t come inside the house. Until now.

The pen and ink drawing your mother made—the last one before she died, before her cancer got worse again, before everything—isn’t in its frame.

You slowly walk out onto the porch, your gut sinking. The sky is still dark, dawn too far off, and the front door is hanging open—and the drawing is on the wood, torn into so, so many pieces.

You sink down on your knees, and as you sift through the wreckage of the last part of your mother, you burst into tears.

Muzan had tried everything to make the human leave, shy of attacking her. He’d demolished her car, her house—and she still wouldn’t leave. She’s a threat. She’ll bring others, hunt him and the others down.

Muzan can’t afford to let her stay.

She cares about that drawing, so he’s going to destroy that paper tonight. See if she’ll stay without it.

So, when the human’s gone to sleep, he creeps up to the house. He goes in the door, into the first room he comes to. And there it is, on the wall. He pulls it out of its frame.

The thing on the wall, the round white thing with black marks around the edge, suddenly makes a noise. A long, loud noise, like a bell.

Muzan jumps and runs, panicked, onto the porch. Movement inside tells him the human’s getting up, and so, hurrying, he shreds the paper and jumps onto the roof. The human won’t stay. He’s made sure of that.

And then she comes out, and she sees the scraps of paper, and she bursts into tears. Muzan pauses. Something in his chest tightens, oddly, when she cries, trying to gather up the pieces.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” she suddenly shouts, her face still wet. “You hate me! You want me to leave! But I—“ She gulps on a sob, voice breaking softly. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. And this is all I have left. So please, please, just leave me alone!”

He should be happy. He should. But he isn’t. Muzan’s chest clenches. He’s gotten used to her face, her smile, the way she whistles off-key while she does her chores. Seeing her break breaks something in him.

Does he care about her?

She goes inside, drooping, and comes back with something strange. Muzan, curious, watches, and she starts using clear things to put the drawing back together. It stays, so the clear strips must be sticky.

A loud ringing sound. Muzan knows it by now—she uses it to know when to get up. Sighing, she gets up, goes back inside.

Muzan drops silently onto the porch, and pulls a strip of clear stickiness off the plastic thing. And he starts sticking the paper back together. He remembers the drawing. It must have really mattered to the human, then.

He’s sorry, oddly. She doesn’t seem to have any guns or knives or traps, and he made her cry.

He doesn’t like to see her cry.

You switch off your alarm clock, and stand beside the bed for a minute, sighing as it sinks in. You don’t have anywhere else to go, but the creature in the woods has made its opinion very clear. You can’t stay.

Slowly, you make your way back out to the porch, and when you see it, you stop.

The drawing’s fixed.

You hadn’t put more than half of it back together, and now it’s all there in one piece. The tape dispenser is scratched—by long, sharp claws you’re more than familiar with by now—but unharmed.

It feels like an apology.

So you take the drawing, and put it back in its place, and then you go through the fridge and bring out some eggs, some bacon. You fry the bacon, scramble the eggs and salt them, and plate the lot—and carry it outside.

“I think you can understand me, or at least some of what I say,” you tell the woods, the sun still out of sight. “You’re a predator, right? So you’ll probably like this. And, um—thank you.”

You leave it on the porch and shut the door. The creature likes its privacy, so you eat your own breakfast in the living room, humming quietly as you stare up at the repaired paper. The creature’s very intelligent—you can hardly tell the drawing was torn at all, from how well it was fixed.

When you check the plate, it’s been licked clean. Literally.

Maybe things are finally looking up.

Muzan sits on the long, overlooking branch of the same oak, watching the human plant a small garden. He smelled the seeds yesterday, when she left them outside. Edible. Nothing dangerous.

He tells himself that if she ever proves dangerous, he’ll drive her off.

He knows perfectly well that he won’t.

She talks to him now, though he still hasn’t let her see him. When she’s outside, or when she has the windows open, she’ll say things like, “How are you?” Or, “That was a bad storm last night. Hope you didn’t get too wet.” Or even, “I wish I could show you this show I’ve been watching on Netflix. You probably have no idea what that means, do you? I think you’d like it.”

When the fall’s cold snap came, she started leaving blankets out for him. Muzan brought them back to the den, for Rui and Zohakuten and the others. They’ll be warm this winter. When he goes into sleep with them, they’ll be warm until spring.

So he left his human a few birds he hunted, on the porch. She’d laughed, and said, “I—have no idea what to do with these. How about you not hunt for me? I’ve got food, I promise. But thank you!”

Muzan had taken back the birds, and left something from his collection behind. Like all his kind, he’s drawn to bright things, and he keeps the best ones for himself, in his part of the nest. So he left her a silver button, and a red ribbon, from his hoard.

She liked those. Muzan’s seen her wearing the ribbon, using it to pull her hair back.

A few nights ago, he started coming to the house at the same time, around sunset, every day. He’s done it since. She’s noticed—she talks more when she knows he’s there.

Yesterday, she teased him, and he dropped a nut on her head. She laughed until she almost fell over.

Muzan thinks he might like this human.

When your creature doesn’t come back all winter, you realize he’s probably hibernating. Some large predators do that. He’s probably one of them.

You were really worried the first week he didn’t turn up, though.

You’re not sure when he stopped being an it, when “the creature” became “your creature,” but you’ve gotten attached to him. You can tell when he’s there. He visits around sunset every day. Recently, he started interacting with you—dropping nuts and other things to make his point—even if you still haven’t seen him.

You spend the winter wondering what he looks like, if he’s warm enough. If he’s safe and comfortable and happy, while the snow falls outside and you turn up the heating.

When spring comes, you’re excited to have him back. And he comes back.

One night, you hear a knock at the door. It’s still a little cold at night, so you pull a blanket around yourself to answer it, not thinking about who the knock came from.

You pull the door open.

And there he is, letting you see him. Your creature. You let the blanket fall, unable to think of anything else.

He’s tall and thin, but lined with muscle—and he could almost pass for human, except for the dark tint on his forearms shading into black on his hands, or the deep red of his eyes, or the claws tipping his long, graceful fingers. He licks his lips, his eyes dropping nervously, and you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth and a long tongue.

His hair is long and black, but well-cared-for and clean, not draggled. His skin is porcelain pale, and he’s nude—but unlike a human, he doesn’t have any obvious genitals, just a smooth mound. (You immediately kick yourself for even looking.)

Very, very slowly, he holds out a hand toward you. It’s hesitant, almost fearful, so you meet him halfway with your own hand and squeeze his.

He jumps a little, startled, but then he leans closer, his eyelids fluttering. He has long lashes, you realize. Before you know what you’re doing, you lift your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. And he leans into it, turning to nuzzle against your palm.

“You—do you want to come in?” you ask.

It takes some time, but eventually he grows comfortable enough to show himself more frequently. When you’re gardening, struggling to pull a particularly stubborn sweet potato, he’s suddenly there to nudge you aside and dig it up with clawed hands. When you’re making breakfast, he shows up at the kitchen window and hands a few berries though it. He’s always there these days, whenever you turn around.

The first time he speaks, you almost jump out of your skin.

You’re talking to him, telling him about something inane—something you saw on Netflix—without expecting anything to fill the silence.

So when he says, “What is Netflix?” in a low mellow voice, you start, spilling your morning tea all over yourself and your blanket in the chair on the porch.

“Did I scare you?” he says, worried, and your heart jumps.

“I—I’ve never heard you speak. I didn’t even know you could,” you say, shoving the blanket off and rubbing your legs. The tea was still hot, and your thighs are hurting.

He kneels down in front of you, looking at your legs intently.

“It hurts,” he says softly. “Did it burn?”

“I don’t think so,” you manage, almost tongue-tied from seeing him so close to you. “But you—how did you learn English?”

“You,” he says, still intently studying your legs. “I listened to you.”

You huff an incredulous laugh. “Well, I always knew you were clever, but this is—“

He chuckles, and it’s a wonderful sound that makes your heart feel light and warm and full.

“I think you should change your clothes,” he says gently. “And then you can show me your Netflix.”

You do show him your Netflix, and other things around the house—the microwave, the fridge—and every time he sees something new and unexplained, he learns quickly. He adapts too; the television is not a threat, it’s entertainment. He doesn’t like the fridge, but he understands that the microwave makes food warm again, and he likes it better that way.

You learn too, more about him. His name is Muzan. He eats a lot of meat—preferably animals he hunts himself, though he seems to like eating with you—and has incredible senses. Smell seems particularly important to him; he can tell what you’ve eaten hours before, and find you unerringly with just your scent to go on.

After a little while, Muzan gets comfortable enough to visit every day, coming inside the house. He’s very intelligent, and spends a lot of time pouring over your books or discussing what he’s read with you. He likes documentaries or meaningful films, but generally doesn’t care for shows. If you want to watch one, he’ll settle himself beside you, reading silently.

And time passes like that, for weeks and months.

When summer is coming to a close at last, Muzan asks you to walk with him in the forest. He seems almost nervous when he asks, twisting his hands together. You often walk together on the paths, but this seems different somehow.

“What is it?” you ask gently. “Muzan, is something bothering you?”

He huffs a soft laugh.

“I want you to see my den,” he admits. “And meet my family.”

You can’t keep the smile off your face. You’re touched by the clear trust in that gesture. The two of you have come so far.

“Do they know I’m coming?” you check.

“Yes.” Muzan bites his lip. “They…may not trust you as I do right away.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to.” You slide your hand into his larger, dark-tinted one. “You’ve been hunted by humans, so you hunted them. I’m guessing they’ve experienced the same. Trust would be a big ask after that.”

Muzan pulls you into a fierce embrace, nuzzling into your neck.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice almost breaking.

The den is a cave, the entrance fairly cramped. Muzan guides you very carefully through it, at one point using his hand to stop you from slamming your knee into a sharp rock. It’s much bigger on the inside, with a pile of very familiar blankets directly in front of you on the floor. There are a few ledges, which seem to be full of bright things—buttons feature prominently, but so do shiny rocks and strips of cloth.

Muzan’s a bit like a crow, actually. Now you know where your button and ribbon came from—you’re wearing the ribbon in your hair today.

Zohakuten emerges first. He has black hair, like Muzan, and they’re clearly the same species. But he’s small, about the size of an 8-year-old. He’s glaring at you.

Muzan slips a hand around your waist. You take a deep breath.

“You’re Zohakuten, right?” you ask, squatting down. “I brought something for you.”

Muzan had explained that for his kind, their collections were very important. New members of a family group usually gave each other gifts, so you’d brought a few things.

Carefully, you hold your hand out. In it is a wooden dinosaur. “My uncle was a whittler,” you tell Zohakuten. “And he made this when I was little.”

Zohakuten sniffs it before he takes it.

“Your uncle ate a lot of cheese,” he says. Your brows rise.

“You can smell that?” When Zohakuten nods, you say, “You must have a really good nose.”

He smiles. Just a little.

Gyutaro comes out next, with Daki behind him. His hair is black; hers is white.

“You’re the one who gave us the blankets,” Gyutaro says flatly.

“Yeah. I’ve got something else for you though. Muzan told me you like knives, Guytaro.” You hand him the little pocketknife your mother gave you when you turned sixteen. “You want this one?”

Gyutaro looks it over. Then he takes it. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“So, do I have something?” Daki asks.

“Yeah, you do.” You give her a piece of embroidered cloth. “My mom’s mom made this when she was little.”

“What’s it for?”

“Being pretty,” you say, and wink. “Just like you.”

Daki squeals and hugs you. As she and her brother go to curl up in the blanket mound, you hear Gyutaro say, “You smell gross now.” Daki swats him, and snaps, “Nice things aren’t gross and she was nice, so she doesn’t smell gross. You’re gross.”

“Your hair’s gross,” Gyutaro mutters.

Apparently kids are still kids, even when they’re creatures in the woods.

When the sun sinks, and Rui still doesn’t come out, Muzan asks if you should go home. He’s worried about you being outside in the dark.

“Muzan,” you tell him, hands on hips, “if it’s okay with everyone, I’d rather stay.”

Zohakuten laughs. When you both look at him, he shrugs.

“I like her.”

Daki runs over and pulls up and down on Muzan’s arm.

“Can she stay? Can she please?”

Muzan looks over at Gyutaro. The boy shrugs.

“She doesn’t smell that gross,” he says, his arms folded. “I guess.”

Muzan sighs. “All right.”

Daki squeals with delight and drags you over to the blanket mound, pulling you down beside her. She curls up next to you like a cat, and starts telling all about everything in her collection. Halfway through, she starts yawning. A bit later, she falls asleep.

Gyutaro plops down next to her, stares at you for a second, and shuts his eyes. Zohakuten leans his head against your knee, looking over his gift again. And very gently, Muzan tucks himself against your other side, smiling.

“You’re smiling,” Zohakuten says, surprised.

Muzan puts a finger to his lips. “Don’t wake your siblings,” he says softly. Zohakuten wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going soft, papa,” he whispers.

Muzan shows his teeth playfully. “Oh, am I?”

“Definitely,” Zohakuten says. “You like her. You like her a lot.” He stares at you in the dark. “You’re all mushy now. You didn’t used to be mushy.”

“I’ll show you mushy,” Muzan warns. “In the morning.”

As Zohakuten rolls over, still holding his new present, he mumbles quietly, “That’s just what a mushy person would say.”

#muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #sub demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #sub kny x reader

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floral-force · 11 months

Text

Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies

cowboy!din djarin x f!reader - old west/western au oneshot

summary: When a new man storms into the saloon you work at, you're instantly terrified--and captivated. But as he lingers in town and stirs up trouble with every step, you question who the brown-eyed man is underneath the poncho, and if he really is just a bounty killer at his core.

words: 10.7k+

warnings/tags: EXPLICIT. 18+ ONLY. smut (rough, fingering, oral, riding, doggy style, spitting, spanking), period-typical violence (not graphic) and sexism (not from din), the helmet hat comes off, din is morally gray and not always nice, barmaid!reader

a/n: This is heavily inspired by Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy and the Man with No Name. Please mind the tags.

read on ao3 | masterlist

When he stormed into the saloon, you knew he was trouble. You had an eye for these things, a sixth sense for danger.

A hush fell over the crowd of people when the swinging doors opened. The stranger’s eyes narrowed under his black Stetson hat, and a cloth covered his face below them, the plain beige fabric laying over the earthy green poncho draped over broad shoulders. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over the few inches of exposed skin. You nearly dropped the glass you were drying when he started to walk over to you in those stiff, dark denim pants, the bottom of a brown leather holster bouncing on his thick right thigh, heavy with a hidden weight.

Something within you stirred, scorching your skin. He sat down on a stool right in front of where you worked and conversation within the saloon picked up again. His severe gaze burned a hole through you, and you took a step back, suddenly conscious of the sweat on the back of your neck and the heat coiling low in your gut. The sweat starting to dot your forehead certainly wasn’t from the heat of high noon, the sun hanging in a cloudless blue sky.

“Can I get you somethin’, sir?”

“Whiskey,” he said, his voice gravelly but smooth at the same time. Seductive and sultry.

You nodded and turned around, pulling a bottle of amber liquid off the bar shelf and grabbing a low glass. You could feel him staring at you as you poured, heat prickling your ears. You told him the price and he shifted to the side, digging money out of his pocket.

“Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You gave him a smile and walked over to the register, entering the sale. You stashed the change in the jar you kept next to it, happy to see it slowly getting filled to the brim. You didn’t make too much here, but you had no other choice. It wasn’t a bad job, but it came with its problems—drunk men getting handsy or bold being the overwhelming one. When you’d arrived here all those years ago, it was either working as a barmaid or a laundress. You chose the former, and you didn’t regret it. It just meant you ran into interesting people, and this man was no exception—he’d made that clear when his brown boots stomped across the old wooden floor.

“‘Scuse me, miss?”

The man called out to you, and you quickly walked over to him, spreading your arms out and leaning forward. He was swirling his glass in a lightly tanned hand, a blue cuff settled over his wrist. You wondered if his hands felt rough, how they’d feel on the soft skin of your waist.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir?”

“You know if the sheriff here has any bounties out?”

Oh, shit. He was one of them. “Mm-mm.” You shook your head. “I haven’t heard or seen anythin’.”

He nodded and set his glass down, leaning forward and staring into your eyes, his brow set. He was close enough for you to see the sweat under his eyes, staring you down, making your heart thrum in your chest and throat go dry. The chestnut eyes gave you a once-over, slowly trailing down your body and stopping where the bar top hid the rest of you from sight. They jumped back up to your widened ones, and the corners crinkled with a hidden smirk.

“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause suddenly, I find myself wantin’ to stay a bit longer,” he husked, pulling the cloth away from his face and slugging the rest of the whiskey back. You caught a glimpse of his jawline as he tilted his head back and noticed the scruff covering it.

You raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Oh, really? How come?”

“Found myself somethin’ a bit better than a money,” he said, tipping his hat back slightly. “And she’s standin’ right in front’a me.”

His smooth compliment nearly made you forget he was a bounty hunter. The way he eyed you up and down almost covered up and dulled what your head was telling you. This man was trouble through and through, and you’d known it from the moment he swaggered through the doors. He’d caught your eye like no other man just passing through ever had. You wanted desperately to comb your fingers through the dark brown curls peeking out under his hat, to kiss the lips hidden under the cloth, to know him like nobody ever had.

You must’ve been staring a bit too long because you heard a low chuckle and felt a finger tap your forearm. You shook your head and chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry, sir, just thinkin’ too much.”

He hummed. “I like a woman who thinks too much. Makes it even better when I make her go quiet.”

The purred innuendo made your lips part and eyes go wide. You wanted that. And he knew it. The clever cowboy was already playing you and pressing all the right keys; it was as if he’d already snuck under your skirt and made you go limp.

He looked over his shoulder at the stairs climbing up the back wall facing the doors. “You stay around here?”

“Up-upstairs,” you stuttered. “I got my own room.”

“Good.”

“It-it doesn’t hide noise all that well.”

He stared at you and snickered. “Darlin’, you really think I give a shit?”

And he really didn’t. He had you howling as he rammed into you, completely unforgiving as his cock filled you to the brim. The man growled and grunted your name as he fucked you from behind, rough hands gripping your ass and spreading your round cheeks. He burned like sand at noon, more punishing than the summer heat. You gave in to him, letting him burn you as much as he wanted.

You were drooling into your worn mattress with tears in your eyes. The man held your wrists behind your back in one large hand. The other was kneading the fat on your hip as it recoiled with each slam of his hips.

“This th’best pussy I ever had, darlin’, god damn,” he rasped.

“G-good,” you panted between his brutal thrusts.

“Listen t’yourself.” He laughed, the sound mirthful and deadly. “Can barely fuckin’ speak. Told you I’d fuck ya til you couldn’t speak, darlin’.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned at his dirty words. You should have never doubted that he’d have your mouth going dry, feeling his cock dig deep inside of you and choke something in your throat. He humbled and punished you for doubting him with his unforgiving pace. His tongue lavished you with dirty praise and raspy groans, the sounds making your cunt throb and suck him in deeper even as your walls started to get raw from his roughness.

He’d proven his tongue was filthy only moments ago as he licked circles around the sensitive bud between your legs. You were entirely naked—garments in a heap on the floor—but he still wore all his clothes except for the poncho and cloth. Even his worn denim shirt was still on, only the first four buttons undone—his hands were too busy yanking your clothes off to be bothered with his. The man was impatient and hungry, and you didn’t dare deny him.

He still wore the black hat as he worked his mouth on your sex, tonguing between your folds and teasing your slick hole. But you didn’t mind it, not when he moaned into your cunt with each broad lick of his tongue. He gave in to your whiny pleas for his thick fingers, obliging you with two right away. The digits stretched you open, made you throw your head back and clamp your legs around his head, the brim of his hat bending into your shins.

He clicked his tongue and placed his free hand on one of your knees, gently pushing it down as he muttered, “Spread those legs for me, baby. Need ‘em open for me.” You did as told and he hummed in approval. “Atta girl.”

He praised you by sucking your clit and rubbing his fingers against a soft spot within you. You were twitching and mumbling nonsense, an utter mess for the scoundrel between your shaking thighs. Your cunt pulsed around him, your peak suddenly rising with the motion.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d coaxed as you panted and gripped the sheets. “Need to get you nice’n ready for my cock.”

It only took a few more moments before you came with a sharp cry, legs shaking and a foot twitching. A fire blazed within you, one he had started and intended to keep burning. He worked you through it, sucking in a breath as he felt you pulse around his fingers.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. Then, he flipped you over, not even giving you time to recover from your high.

He’d barely tugged his pants down, only undoing his belt and dropping his holster to the floor. He growled and grabbed your ass, lifting it into the air and forcing you to arch your back. When he pushed into you with a groan, you felt the fabric scratch against you as he sheathed himself in your still-sensitive cunt.

You hissed and squirmed and cried out “Fuck, I’m—I’m still sens—”

“Don’ care,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ need you, darlin’.”

You nodded and moaned at his harsh affection. You were ashamed that you loved it, that it made you throb. A sharp slap on your ass made you jump, the tingling sensation left behind sent your head spinning. He rubbed it and soothed the tender skin, rough hands suddenly soft.

And now, he fucked you without mercy. Any trace of tenderness was gone with the wind. The man with brown eyes filled you more than anyone ever had, made you see stars when others had only made you see specks. When you begged him to spit on himself, that your cunt was getting raw, he pressed his sweaty chest against your back and gently tapped your cheek with his knuckles.

You opened your eyes and saw his open hand in front of them.

“Spit.”

Your pussy ached at his demand and you opened your mouth for the brown-eyed man, lifting your head as much as you could. Saliva dripped off your tongue and landed on his calloused palm. He took his hand back and you set your head back down, taking a deep breath when he pulled himself out of you to stroke his cock. His free hand grabbed the meat of one of your cheeks, his thumb kneading close to the tight ring of muscle hidden between them. The wet sound of him stroking his cock with your spit made you smile and shudder.

There was something satisfying about this cowboy using you. All rough edges and dry desert heat. He was as ruthless and unyielding as the western terrain you called home. You nearly screamed when he rammed himself back inside of your aching hole, silencing yourself by burying your face into the mattress. The man carved a canyon through you with brute, relentless force and praised your wild howls and whines with a slap on your ass and one slow rock of his hips. He teased you over and over, quickly learning where to drag the fat head of his cock to make you shiver and shake.

“P-please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t fuckin’ stop!”

The man chuckled at your desperate cry. You felt yourself shiver when he ran his hands up your thighs before kneading your plump cheeks again. Any pride you felt at hypnotizing him with your ass was quickly washed away when he landed a sharp smack against your right cheek, immediately following it with one on your left, another landing back on your right. You arched your back even more for him and wiggled one of your hands down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The thick member filling you to the brim was driving you to the edge, and the added sparks of pleasure from your sensitive nub was pushing you even closer.

He started fucking you with something even more feral than before, his groans loud and strained. Your moans melted into his with each burning stroke and every needy rub against your clit.

“God, I can feel you fuckin’ pulsin’ around me, baby,” he growled.

“Y-you feel so fucking good,” you answered, mouth open so your hoarse moans could slip into the air.

“Yeah? This th’best cock you ever had?”

He stole your answer with a punishing slam of his hips. Your free hand clawed at the sheets, and you tried to squirm up away from him. There was a low growl as you were yanked back, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. The man chuckled mirthfully when you gasped, impaled on his cock yet again.

“Don’t try to run from a bounty killer, darlin’,” he rasped, his thrusts getting needier, reaching deeper and lingering longer within your quivering hole. “’Specially when your cunt feels this fuckin’ good.”

His breathing began to match your frenzied pants, the pace of his thrusts as frantic as your fingers on your sensitive clit.

“I’ll ask ya again,” he gave you a sharp thrust, keeping you in place with his strong hands. “Is this the best cock you ever fuckin’ had?”

“Fuck—yes, baby, yes!” You howled into the mattress as you felt your walls start to spasm, a sudden heat starting to take over you.

“C’mon, darlin’, that’s—fuck—that’s it.” The brown-eyed man’s hips slapped against your ass, the sound echoing, and he started growling—the feral and primal bounty killer finally taking over. “Fuckin’ c-come for me—fuck, I feel it—good fuckin’ girl—”

You came around his length with a scream, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm. A white-hot fire burned from your aching, quivering hole to your fuck-drunk head. You couldn’t feel anything other than your walls clenching around his cock, couldn’t hear anything other than your desperate whines.

“F-fuckin’ come for me, you fuckin’ scoundrel,” you growled, voice shaking as you continued to ride the crest of your climax. You drunkenly smiled when you heard a low groan and whined when the head of his cock kissed something deep within you, leaving its mark on you forever, guaranteeing you’d never feel this good ever again.

“Fuckin’ God—darlin’, I could bury m’self in your delicious cunt forever—fuck!”

The brown-eyed man gave your spent hole one final, cruel thrust. He pulled out of you with a groan, and you hissed at the feel of him leaving you; he left you raw and empty and gaping. You quickly forgave him when you heard the squelch of his fist jerking himself to completion with your juices. You smiled and sighed as he covered your ass in hot ropes of his seed, reveling in how fucking needy he sounded when he reached his peak. He sucked in air through his teeth, slowly loosening his grip on your hip. You jumped when he slapped your ass, shaking your head when he smugly chuckled.

You scooted forward and dropped your aching legs to the mattress with a groan. You didn’t care about the cum he left behind; right now, you needed to catch your breath after the divine beating he’d just given your pussy. The floor creaked under his boots as he started rustling around—probably putting that poncho back on—and humming to himself. You jumped when something wet stroked across your painted ass, quieted by a low hush.

“Just cleanin’ up my mess,” he rumbled. “I may be a scoundrel—” he mocked your voice— "but my mama taught me manners.”

You chuckled and turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at the wall and your two measly pillows. “You’re a true gentleman.”

He shrugged, then gave the tender spots on your cheeks a soft massage with his fingers and then tapped your hips and helped you roll onto your back. You melted into the mattress with a blissful sigh, not bothering to think too long about how someone so brutal could be so tender.

“I wouldn’ call myself that, darlin’.”

His eyes met yours and you bit your lip. Even though the cloth was covering his face again, you had a hunch that what hid underneath it was handsome. You could see the corners of his eyes gently crease with the whisper of a smile as he stared down at you, running a warm, calloused hand up and down your sweaty skin.

“I’m just as rotten as the rest of ‘em.”

The next day, the owner was with you, standing behind the bar all the way down on your left and chatting with an old regular. Mr. Daniels was middle-aged, stout and balding, with skin as leathery as a saddlebag and always dressed in a white shirt. He was constantly mentioning his wife and daughters and boasted about them to anyone who would listen; he seemed to extend that fatherly protection your way sometimes. He was a kind enough man—letting you live in the attic above the saloon for free, paying you a decent wage—and you had no complaints.

You weren’t surprised to see the brown-eyed man slamming into the saloon the next day, the patrons a little less rattled by his presence than they were yesterday. When he stomped over to where you stood, Mr. Daniels gave you a quick glance, and you responded with a smile and tilt of your head—I’m alright.

“What’ll it be, sir?” you asked.

You could feel your sore hole throb when he looked up at you under that wide-brimmed hat, a ray of sun lighting up his golden skin and making his chestnut eyes glow. He leaned against the bar, resting a bent arm on it. Relaxed and certain of his place in the small saloon, not a hint of fear in his posture.

“I think you already know, darlin’.”

He winked at you, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You turned and grabbed the whiskey you’d poured him yesterday with a nod. His eyes looked you up and down as you grabbed a glass and poured out his drink with a coy smile on your face.

He handed you money for the drink and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Keep the change.”

You smiled. “You’re too kind, sir.”

He tipped his hat. You walked over to the register, entered the sale, and dropped the change into your jar. As you moved back to where you’d been standing, the man straightened and walked down the bar to where Mr. Daniels and the old man were talking. You watched as he pulled a scroll of yellowed parchment out from under his poncho and spread it on the dark wood counter. Out of curiosity, you took a few small steps in that direction, acting busy with organizing the liquor shelves.

“You seen this man?” he inquired.

“No, ‘fraid not,” the old man replied with a smack of his lips.

You turned around and picked up a glass and a cloth, drying it and looking around the saloon. At table in the far corner, two men sat playing cards, smoke curling out of their mouths, the brims of their hats tipped down and hiding their faces from prying eyes. A few other tables were scattered around the small saloon, more hatted men nursing their drinks at them. Their soft chatter filled the air and was speckled with the occasional sounds of a horse trotting down the road. It was a slow afternoon, but you didn’t mind if it meant you kept yourself occupied with eavesdropping.

“And you?”

“Can’t say I have,” Mr. Daniels responded.

The man hummed and started to roll the yellowed paper up. You squinted, trying to see what was printed on it. You swallowed when you read the word “WANTED” in big black letters before he rolled the edge back up. The man leaned back and shoved it back under the poncho, nodding. He knocked the rest of his drink back and set the glass on the bar top and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes before pushing it down your way. Something vicious lurked within those brown eyes, keeping itself hidden under the brim of his hat and only revealed now that the afternoon sun didn’t reach them.

You extended your arm to reach and pick the glass up, immediately bending over and dunking it in the bucket of soapy water at your feet. You bit your cheek, ashamed that you felt heat pulse between your legs at his darkened stare. Being the target of his gaze was either thrilling or terrifying; right now, you weren’t sure what it was for you. It made you wonder how he had looked at you while he was ramming his cock into you. Ultimately, whatever his gaze was didn’t matter if it made you burn just from the thought of it.

The sound of someone cursing and a stool being pushed across the floor made you snap up to stand again; your eyes widened when you saw the man’s fist wrapped in the fabric of Mr. Daniels’ shirt, pulling him against the bar with only one arm. The old man was standing back a few feet away on the poncho-clad man’s right, his long gray eyebrows knitted together.

“You sure?” He growled.

The cantina had gone silent, all eyes focused on the man and his hold on Mr. Daniels. You were staring too, your heart racing in your chest and threatening to break your ribs.

“Even if I did,” Mr. Daniels said through gritted teeth, “I wouldn’t know where to find him.”

He glanced over at you, eyes lingering before meeting the man’s stare again.

The man tilted his head. “You wouldn’t know?”

Mr. Daniels shook his head again. “I told you, I just wouldn’t—” his eyes landed on you— “know where—” back to the man—“to look.”

You took a step back when Mr. Daniels looked at you one last time, then back at the man. His brow was set, but you glanced down and saw his hand shaking below the bar. The man let go of him with a push and conversation in the saloon resumed as he started to stalk towards you. His dark eyes were stormy as he set his sights on you and squinted, the spurs on his boots jingling menacingly with each step. You braced yourself for impact; muscles tensing, heart racing, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, fingers curling into your palms and nails digging in.

The collision never came. His poncho swept past you and he came to stand at one of the two small square windows at the front of the saloon. You doubted he could see much with how dirty the glass was; the sun must’ve scorched the dust and grime into the aged panes before you’d even blown into town. Frankly, you were relieved that you weren’t on the receiving end of his threatening, squinting stare.

However, you couldn’t deny the way something in your gut fluttered when you thought you’d be the one pulled against the bar by his leather-rough hands, his fingers catching the low neckline of your blouse and skimming over your hot skin, your shallow pants gently waving his bandana. But you reckoned that the haunting flutters were probably just lusty leftovers from your tryst the other night.

He looked over his shoulder at you, still squinting and heavy with frustration. Your lips parted when he held your wide eyes with his stare, the flutters growing into a rumble and shaking you from within. Or maybe that sensation was just his heavy footfalls across the floor echoing under your skin as he turned to the left and stomped out the doors. You watched him with eager eyes as he walked to the inn across the street, beige dust kicked up with every sinister step. Before he unleashed his storm on the inn, he turned over his shoulder to look at the saloon.

You squinted, moving closer to peer out of the windows. No, he wasn’t looking at the weather-worn building—he had his burning gaze focused on you.

With a tip of his hat, he slid inside, and you leaned back. You placed a hand on your chest and felt your heart beating hard and fast underneath it.

Mr. Daniels clicked his tongue, announcing his arrival at your side. You looked back at him, the man’s stare set on the inn.

“Some fuckin’ fella,” he grumbled, ivory face red with anger.

You nodded slowly and walked back to the soap water bucket, picking up the forgotten whiskey glass and shaking it off before drying it with a rag. You pursed your lips and tried to forget how his suntanned hands had dwarfed the glass, and tried to wipe away the memory of them digging into the meat of your thighs as he slurped up your juices with a deep moan. Despite your best efforts, they didn’t fade away, and neither did a smudge on the glass.

Everything in this town was filthy, you figured, shoving the glass to the very back of the cupboard so it could be forgotten. Even the drifters that passed through were coated in grime.

The brown-eyed man was lucky your boss needed business, because the look Mr. Daniels gave him when he walked into the saloon the next evening could scorch anything within ten miles. He skulked through the doors at dusk, eyeing up the loud crowd before making a path to where you stood pouring out four shots of whiskey. Of course you’d instantly noticed him—you’d felt the air become charged as if it were about to storm as soon as he’d arrived. The men you served paid you with paper bills and winks, knocking back the shots as you walked over to where the man stood. Without a word, you turned and grabbed a glass; you didn’t need to ask what he or any other man in a hat wanted to drink tonight. As you avoided his eyes, he stared you down. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a golden hand already pushing coins and a paper bill your way as the amber liquid gurgled into the glass.

You finished and gave him a practiced smile, scooping the money into your hand as he told you to keep the change yet again. The bottle was nearly empty, but you still placed it back on the shelf before walking to the register. You avoided looking in his direction at all costs; the most you allowed yourself to see was the brim of his hat and the poncho fabric that fell over his left arm. Instead, you gave your best performance to the other patrons—chatting with the town regulars and smiling at the men passing through—and got caught up in the large crowd, the early purple of the night still settling over town.

You heard a few raps on the wood above the chatter and lively piano. When you looked up at the man, you choked on your breath.

“Long time, no see, sweet thing,” he drawled, a cigarillo in the corner of his leering mouth. Blue eyes pierced you and his fair cheeks were tinted with a whiskey-induced blush.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your plain black skirt. “Can I get you somethin’?”

“Other than your ass in my bed? Whiskey.”

You brushed off the lewd remark, thankful there was a clean glass and whiskey on the bartender’s counter you’d must’ve forgotten to put back earlier. John, your old beau, kept his icy gaze fixed on you and puffed smoke to the side. Blond hair coated his head underneath the beige high-crowned hat, and you fought back a wince at remembering the times you shared with him. You told him the cost and he made a slow show of placing the money in your waiting hand, pressing his palm against your fingers and closing them around the money. You guessed you did a poor job of hiding a shudder, because he gave you a mirthful chuckle.

“What, sugar? You missin’ the way I’d fuck ya?”

You didn’t acknowledge his vulgar comment. You’d never been spoken to like that, even from the drunkest of men. It was just understood that men didn’t curse in conversation with ladies; even the gnarliest and dirtiest of them knew that. You could smell the liquor on John’s breath and had no interest in indulging his drunken idiocy. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, shoved the money in your waist apron’s pocket, turned to the left and walked a few steps down the bar, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted a new patron. The brown-eyed man still stood where you’d served him, and you caught him pulling the cloth covering his face back with pinched fingers as his other hand lifted his almost-empty glass.

After you’d finished serving a gray-mustached man, thanking him for the tip as he walked away, your red-faced old flame slapped his palms against the wood and leaned into your space, blue eyes hazy.

“I was talkin’ to you,” he hissed. “An’ I ain’t done yet.”

Your heart sped up and you gulped, your mouth dry and body cold. He’d only been like this with you once before—when you’d ended things with him back in your old town the day before you left. It was a cruel twist of fate that he happened to be passing through your new town a few years later. He obviously hadn’t forgotten about you, much to your dismay.

“Is there a problem here?”

The brown-eyed man was looming behind John, his eyes narrowed. You hadn’t even noticed him move; he was like a shadow. John turned his head over his shoulder, keeping his hands planted on the counter as he eyed the man up. He scoffed and curled his fingers under his palms.

“Ain’t your business, saddle bum,” he snarled.

The man slowly stepped forward and came to stand in front of John, sweeping the front of his poncho over his right shoulder. Your eyes widened when you saw his chestnut-colored leather belt, the holster heavy with a pistol.

“It is now.”

John’s head swiveled back to you, his face smug and eyes cloudy. “I don’ remember talkin’ ‘bout this fella. Do you, sugar?”

You didn’t respond, opting to look over his shoulder and watch as the man turned John around by his shoulder. He pushed John against the edge of the counter, chestnut eyes fiery. From where you stood, it was hard to tell if he was using more force now than he had yesterday with Mr. Daniels; your gut told you he was. Something was different tonight, and it wasn’t the whiskey.

“Keep talkin’ and see what happens,” the man threatened, his voice low.

John laughed and shook his head. “What, did’ya have this soiled dove?” he asked loudly, drawing the attention of those who hadn’t noticed the stranger’s physical threat.

The derogatory term made you gasp and take a step back, your skin hot under your off-shoulder blouse. The man’s eyes flicked over to you for only a second before squinting at John again. He shook his head, his beige cloth covering shifting slightly with the movement.

“Don’t do it,” the brown-eyed man warned.

You could barely see John toss the butt of his cigarillo on the floor, but you did see his head turn to the right and heard him spit. The people around them had moved back and gone silent, turning their backs to avoid being dragged into a fight that didn’t concern them. You didn’t blame them—you wouldn’t want to be in the path of this desert storm either.

There was a low growl and then the poncho-clad man was dragging John across the floor to the doors, tossing him out of them. There was a heavy thud when his body hit the ground, and you watched the man push the doors open and tilt his head down to look at the ground, presumably where the drunkard still sat. His hands gripped the tops of the doors, his stance wide and menacing. He shook his head, and you fought your better judgment, running to the end of the bar at the windows and then pushing through the patrons. They let you pass and then you were standing behind the cowboy at the doors, your blood cold but skin hot at the same time.

Night had fallen, and the two yellow lanterns mounted outside the saloon cast a weak glow on the porch. John was scrambling to his feet and backing away, abandoning his hat and stumbling down the two wooden steps, almost falling on the dirt road. The man looked back at you; the side of his face visible to you darkened from the lack of light. You could only see the whites of his eyes; for once, he wasn’t squinting. Your breaths were shallow, and you pulled at your fingers.

“This bum bothering you, ma’am?” His voice was softer now, the edges smoothed, so unlike the threatening tones you’d heard only moments prior.

You swallowed thickly, but you caught John starting to rush at the stranger and you shouted, “Look out!” instead.

He wasted no time, immediately taking a step forward out of the doorway and planting his back foot before throwing a punch, his fist connecting with the bone of John’s nose. A sickening crack elicited a cry from you and a few of the other saloon girls that had seen or heard it. John dropped to the wooden porch again with a howl.

You cautiously pushed the doors open and let them hit you on your way out. A sick pleasure filled your chest when the man kicked John down to the dirt road, his spurs jingling.

“Go to the inn and leave her alone,” he enunciated. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His voice and words were clearer than you’d ever heard them before. A part of you thought you heard something protective underscoring his firm warning, but it was just a delusion. It had absolutely nothing to do with you; the man clearly just didn’t want to have a scrap with John. It wasn’t because he couldn’t do it—he was obviously capable if he was a bounty hunter—but because he didn’t want to waste his time with it.

There was a dark, sardonic laugh. “Oh, she got you real good, didn’ she?”

You stiffened, covering your quivering lips with a hand, and the pair of brown eyes met your wide ones. His targeted vulgarity was starting to get to you, and it was becoming hard to hide. You felt embarrassed to be tearing up in front of the mysterious man, but you heard a sharp exhale as his eyes searched yours, the blast of air disturbing the cloth on his face. It was as if he was looking at you for permission, awaiting your orders and at your command—your own personal soldier, a bounty hunter tied only to you and the open land ahead of him.

“I don’ blame ya,” John sneered. “Best whore I ever had.”

Silence fell across the crowd; any lingering conversations had gone cold after that. You choked back a cry, your eyes flitting between John rising to his feet and the hunter in front of you. You noticed his fists clench before he finally took his eyes off you and stormed down into the street. He cut off the drunken cackles that filled the air with a swift punch, and you could barely see his knuckles connect with John’s jaw. He stayed upright this time and tried to swing at the man, but John’s sloppy form left him open to a punch in the gut that knocked him a foot backward. You stepped further out onto the porch, the sun-bleached wood creaking underneath your feet as you watched the stranger give John another kick before bending over to yank him up by the collar with both of his hands.

“You say one more goddamn word and I’m sendin’ you into that desert and tossin’ your canteen,” he seethed between gritted teeth.

John’s eyes landed on you, and he laughed. “That slut ain’ wor—”

He was cut off with a growl and a punch, falling to the ground. John was limp and unresponsive when the stranger nudged him with the toe of his boot. The man spat on him, then turned around to face the stunned crowd. Tears were streaming down your face, both of your hands over your nose and mouth.

“Which horse is his?” he asked, his voice deep and loud.

Only a few seconds later, he nodded; someone must’ve pointed it out. You watched him stalk over to a brown horse on his right, rifling through John’s belongings and pocketing cash and valuables he found. The man found his canteen and tossed it to the ground, then walked back over to John and dragged him to the horse. He heaved John up on his shoulder and tossed him over the saddle, then took the reins off the horse to loosely tie John’s feet together and then lead it under the horse’s belly to bind his hands together, making sure to keep the makeshift restraint taut. Finally, he led the horse to the right and out of sight; there was a shout and a whinny, then the frantic sound of hoofbeats as the horse galloped away.

The man came back into view as he approached the saloon again. The only sound filling the nighttime air was the jangling of his spurs and your sniffs as you calmed down. He made his way up to the porch, standing in front of you, his poncho still over his shoulder and revealing his brown leather vest and faded denim shirt. His eyes looked you over, lingering on your wet cheeks.

He had just sent a drunk, unconscious man into the desert without water on a spooked horse at night. It was one of the cruelest things a man could do. And yet, here he was, his eyes soft under a furrowed brow. The yellow lamplight showed that the storms in his eyes had settled, but his forehead would bear the evidence of it in deepened lines.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The term of endearment didn’t make you squirm. Coupled with the gentle, low rumble of his voice, it made you feel…comfortable. “Comfortable” certainly wasn’t something you should feel around a man like him, and yet, you found yourself wanting to fall into his chest and let his arms support you and his warm hands sink into your flesh.

But all you could do right now was nod and wipe the backs of your hands over your wet cheeks. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m rattled, but I’ll live.”

You paused, looking down and then meeting his strangely soft eyes again. You wished you could see the rest of his face and not just imagine it based on how it had felt between your legs.

“Thanks,” you said meekly. You shakily exhaled and repeated yourself. “Thank you, Brown Eyes.”

You swore you saw a smile creasing the corners of his eyes at the nickname. He waved off your thanks, tipped the black brim of his hat, and turned around to walk over to the inn. The shadow slunk back into the night.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your boss yelled and dispersed the crowd, then called your name. Mr. Daniels stood in front of you, his face worried as he looked you over, thick fingers gripping your biceps. The concerned and protective father inside of him was taking over, and you found it to be quite comforting and nice; you never complained when he treated you like one of his daughters. He asked you a dozen questions at once but trailed off after noticing your voice waver and bottom lip quiver. Mr. Daniels guided you to the stairs in the back of the saloon and told you to take the rest of the night off despite your protests—he’d hear none of it.

All you could think of as you lay in bed curled up under your thin blankets was the mysterious, brown-eyed stranger. How could a man so violent have such kind eyes? It just wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself as your eyes fluttered close and you drifted to sleep, the lively chatter of the saloon below a background to the memories of the stranger’s dulcet voice.

You thought that would be the last of Brown Eyes. You thought he’d be gone without a trace, a shadow haunting conversations for a while, another dusty drifter wandering the desert as if he were Moses. Just another man as wild as the terrain he traversed. You hadn’t expected to see him again unless it was in your dreams. He’d kick up dust there, then vanish with it when you opened your eyes.

You really, truly thought his stunt last night would be the last one he performed in this town, and part of you wished it had been when he threw his shadow into the saloon the next afternoon, the sun at his back.

He leisurely strolled over to a table nestled in the back-right corner of the saloon. Three men sitting around its circular wood top playing cards. The jangle of his spurs accompanying each cocksure step of his boots alerted them to his approach, the decorative threads on the edge of his poncho fluttering gently. Finally, Brown Eyes stood with his back to you at the right side of one of the men, his black hat tilting slightly to look down at him. The other two men leaned forward and glanced at each other.

You took a few steps to the right and angled your head a bit to see what was going on. You caught the two men slowly placing their cards on the table and trailing their hands to the edge of the circular table. The man looking up at Brown Eyes was red in the face and spoke quietly enough for his words to slip underneath other conversations in the saloon and go undetected by your ears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you watched the interaction from afar, then raised when the cowboy’s poncho flew over his shoulder.

“Christ almighty,” you murmured as his hand twitched at his thigh.

You looked over to the left at Mr. Daniels, and he gave you a sideways glance. He and the regular in front of him were focused on the altercation; a few of the patrons in the bustling afternoon crowd had noticed as well. Despite the attention, you knew that nobody would intervene. This wasn’t anyone’s business except for the men in the corner.

As you watched one of the seated men reach for his pistol, you swore under your breath. Out of instinct, you dropped to your feet, crouching behind the bar just as the sound of gunshots pierced the air. The sharp blasts made you cover your ears, and then they suddenly stopped. Instead, a wounded groan filled the air, then the crack of a fist against bone and the thump of a body hitting the wooden floor to punctuate the statement. There was a curt jingle of spurs and an oof, signals of a sharp kick.

“Alive or dead, your choice,” a familiar gravelly voice stated.

It was flat and indifferent, so unlike the man who had come to your aid and who had cleaned you up after ruining you with the relentless thrusts of his hips. Yes, he’d been violent last night, but there was something gentle in his eyes hidden within their storm clouds. It almost made your heart ache, but then you remembered what he’d done to Mr. Daniels and how he’d sentenced a man to death without a second thought. You remembered who Brown Eyes was at his core, and the warm ache in your chest withered away.

“You son of a bitch!” A man yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ strangle you!”

A mirthful chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”

There was shuffling, a shout, a gunshot, then silence. The bounty killer had won again.

When your boss stood, you followed suit, your heart racing. You knew that the customers you served weren’t all honest people with honest jobs. Hell, it was naïve to think that about anyone you met out on the frontier. You’d just never experienced a gunfight inside the saloon. You’d seen a few unfold on the dusty main road splitting the town in half, but no bullets had ever blown holes through the saloon’s grimy windows; the sharp smell of gunpowder had never tainted its air. You took a few deep breaths and tried to steady your shaking hands. Even after all these years out west, you still had wild experiences waiting to shock you.

Brown Eyes holstered his revolver with a flourish, then walked to the bar.

“Here, for the trouble.” He placed a few bills and some coins down in front of a glaring Mr. Daniels, then tipped his hat at you. “Apologies, miss.”

He walked back over to the dead man then crouched down and lifted the body over his left shoulder. You heard him mumble under his breath and turn towards the doors to leave. You caught his eyes and swallowed when you saw how dark they were under his hat’s black brim. He silently left the saloon, the doors swinging and clacking behind him. All that remained were two dead men splayed out in their chairs, arms out and hats tipped back.

You looked at Mr. Daniels. He shook his head and sighed.

“And that, my dear, is why God destined some men to be carpenters.”

He wiped off his hands with a frayed cloth and tossed it on the counter. Mr. Daniels shuffled behind you and down the bar with a huff as the patrons’ chatter began again. He quickly walked to the saloon doors and gave them a sharp push, stepping into the hot afternoon sun.

“’M leavin’ at dawn t’morrow,” Brown Eyes said into your cunt.

A hot lick of his tongue made your hips buck. He swiped it side to side over your clit as he planted his hands on your hips and forced them into the mattress. You clawed at the sheets underneath you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Another obscene slurp and moan from the bounty hunter sent you reeling and added to the growing tension in your belly. You forced yourself up to recline on your forearms, looking down at the hatless man hungrily eating you out as if it were his first meal in weeks.

You choked out a breath when the tip of his tongue swirled itself around your hole and then pushed inside of it. Lusty eyes met yours, and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your spit and slick-drenched center. He held your gaze and sucked on the hardened nub, squeezing the meat of your hips when you moaned.

“You like that, darlin’?” he asked, gently sucking again and chuckling at your gasp.

You nodded emphatically. “Fuck, yes, I do, Brown Eyes,” you panted, the muscles in your gut tightening when he groaned at the nickname, your legs starting to tense. “I really, really do.”

When you closed your eyes and let your head fall back with a whine, he shook his head and nipped at the sensitive bud, making you jump and look back down at him. He was staring up at you, something menacing in his eyes. It made your walls flutter, it thrilled you, it made your heart race even more. He was reminding you that even though he was serving you, he was still in control—he was always in control, no matter where he was.

He licked a slow, broad stripe up your cunt, then pulled back. You groaned in frustration at the cruel loss of contact, the heat and tension within you backing away from the glorious peak he’d gotten so close to pushing them over.

“You’re so mean,” you whined.

You heard him suck in a breath between his teeth. “You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.”

His room at the inn had a few lamps to combat the dark desert night, but only one was lit. The lamp on the bedside table to his right cast a little light on him, but the curve of your thigh and the bend of your knee had shrouded him in black shadows while he knelt on the floor and ravished you with his tongue. Now that your legs had dropped to rest and bend over the edge of the mattress, you could see the corners of his brown eyes creased with a smile that he hid behind your dripping cunt. He dipped one thick finger inside of you and snickered when you gasped and startled. Your pussy was still throbbing and aching for release, and it wouldn’t stop until he pushed you over that heavenly edge.

Warm hands massaged your flesh and trailed down to grip the underside of your thighs. His fingers dug in and lifted them a little bit so he could turn his head and press wet kisses on your inner thighs. You felt the ridge of his nose as his lips worked. Delicate eyelashes fluttered against tan cheeks. Brown Eyes gave you one last kiss and a playful nip that made you giggle.

“See, darlin’?” he murmured into your sensitive skin, opening his eyes again. “I can be nice.”

When you raised your eyebrow, he dramatically rolled his eyes. He turned around and stood up with a grunt that made you bite back a chuckle. Yellow light flickered on his bare back and revealed a few scarred splotches; you’d convinced him to take off his shirt and vest earlier, and now it was time for the rest. You swung up to sit on your knees as Brown Eyes hummed and took off his dark denim pants and underdrawers in one motion.

He walked over to the chair next to a short dresser beside the door, meticulously folding the clothing and setting it underneath his folded shirt. His poncho and vest were draped over the back of the tiny chair, his hat resting on top of the shirt, a beige cloth peeking out beneath it. Dusty brown boots waited on the floor. The brown leather holster weighed down the poncho. A rifle leaned against the dresser—“A Winchester 73, m’favorite”—to finish the cowboy’s closet.

Brown Eyes cleared his throat and ran a large hand over the back of his head, fingers teasing his soft brown curls. He turned around to face you, striding over, his thick cock hard and bouncing with each step. It nearly distracted you from his face—his bare face, the handsome one he’d been hiding all this time.

He lifted your chin with two fingers and you nearly melted into the mattress. Your eyes wandered all over his features, greedy for every detail. You were finally seeing the curved nose you’d felt against your thighs and folds. A neat mustache lay above the pink lips that had brought you to shambles. Scruff lined the jaw you’d stolen a look at a few days ago and crept up his cheeks. You noticed a bare patch in the scruff to the right of his chin, and your eyes traced the thin canyons on his forehead left behind from years of erosion and desert sun.

“My mama told me it’s rude to stare,” Brown Eyes chastised, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit.

“I didn’t think it was rude to stare at art,” you quipped back, leaning forward a bit more when he brushed his thumb over your lips and massaged one of your breasts in his hand.

Your heart sped up when he bent down, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his steady exhales heat the air you inhaled through parted lips, his handsome face stealing every bit of sense from your head and making you weak.

He clicked his tongue. “She also told me lyin’ is bad.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Why would I lie to someone like you? I’ve seen what happens. I’ve seen what you can do, Brown Eyes.”

You trailed off, biting your lip when he sharply inhaled. Damn, he sure loved when you called him that. He hooked his thumb into the corner of your mouth, his lust-blown eyes watching it as he swept it across your lower lip and your cunt ached with want.

“You’re right, darlin’,” he acquiesced. “Didn’ take you for the lyin’ type anyway.”

He gave you a soft smile you didn’t think bounty killers were capable of and you simpered. Brown Eyes pinched your chin before sitting next to you and laying back, pumping his cock in his fist. You adjusted yourself so you could trail your hands across his hot skin, explore its ridges and softness, soak in its warmth. Your hands graced across it until they cupped his jaw, startling him with a sensation he probably hadn’t experienced in years.

You bent down with half-lidded eyes and gently parted lips. Chestnut eyes locked with yours right before you crashed your lips into his and let one of your hands reach and grasp his cock. The interruption made him moan into your mouth, the sound desperate and low in his throat. You shared a whine with Brown Eyes when his right hand forced itself between your thighs and shuddered when his fingertips stroked up and down the seam of your folds. He smiled against your lips when you began rolling your hips to steal more of his scalding touch.

He pulled back from your lips and whispered, “You wanna go for a ride, darlin’?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Brown Eyes grinned at you—this man was full of surprises tonight—and turned himself to lay in the center of the mattress. You moved and knelt between his slightly spread legs, your feet touching the wooden footboard as you stared down at him. He was biting his lip and let them part when you massaged your tits before bending over, making sure to arch your back, your lips hovering near the fat head of his cock. You looked back up at him coquettishly—you were in control now, teasing him with hot exhales and smiling after he gave you a few needy groans.

When you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, you felt him tug the sheets with a hiss. A lick from the base to the tip made him swear; he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. You planted your hands on his hips and held his gaze for a few more seconds before closing your eyes and wrapping your lips around him, slowly bobbing up and down, working lower and lower as you went. Your brow furrowed, spit starting to dribble down your chin, and you opened your eyes just in time to see him throw his head back and curse.

“Fuck, baby, god damn,” Brown Eyes rasped, groaning when you pressed your tongue against him as you slid back up again before twisting your head back down, just over halfway down his throbbing length.

He choked when you took every inch of him, your spit-covered lips pressing against the curls at the base. You could only hold it for a moment—his girth and length pushed you to the limit—and then you bobbed back up and swirled your tongue around the bulging head before releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at you as you licked up a few beads of liquid leaking from his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft before sucking him back into your mouth, wildly working your tongue around the head as you stroked. Your pussy throbbed when he whined, one of his hands coming to clasp your forearm as you snaked your free hand up his torso, splaying your fingers out for stability.

He’d grown even harder somehow, and your hand trailed down to give his balls a quick, light squeeze, eliciting an even louder whine; you hoped that nobody occupied the room next to his. Your hand went back to work his shaft, but he tugged your forearm and his other hand held your cheek. You looked up at him and slowly let his cock fall out of your mouth, watching his eyes scrunch closed and eyebrows knit together, his plush pink lips falling open. His chestnut eyes opened again as you straddled his torso, your ass bumping against the leaking length, making him hiss and smile.

“Baby, if you kept that up, I would’a come down your throat.” He panted and shook his head. “But I wanna see you painted in it.”

You giggled when his large palms clapped on your cheeks, grabbing the meat of them and spreading them.

“Go ‘head, darlin’,” he urged. “Ride this cowboy’s cock.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice,” you chuckled, giving him a kiss before sitting back on your knees.

You started to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, lips parting as his fat head notched inside of your slick and needy hole, already splitting you open. His hands traveled up the curve of your ass and over your hips to rest on your thighs, low groans coaxing you further down. You planted your hands next to his ears and stared into his eyes as you slammed your ass against him, hissing as he filled you to the brim. His eyes squeezed shut and he whined, hands moving back to your ass.

“You take me so well, darlin’, fuck,” he growled. His eyes bore deep into yours, and he gently squeezed your cheeks. “Now, c’mon, baby girl. Move those gorgeous hips.”

You slowly rolled your hips back a few times, feeling your ass shake and letting your cunt adjust to his size. When you started to speed up, the man nodded and grunted along with your pants. The tension inside of you had returned with a vengeance, your walls already fluttering after only a few minutes of riding him. You picked up the pace and added another movement, sliding up and down, hammering back down with a filthy, wet sound. You threw your head back and shifted to rest on your knees, sinking down to the base and holding his gaze as he groaned. You began massaging your breasts and circled your hips, remaining fully seated on his cock.

“F-fuck, feels amazing, Brown Eyes,” you moaned, your index and middle fingers landing on your clit and rubbing small circles around it.

You lifted your head to look at him when he swatted your fingers away. Brown Eyes gave you a sly smile. “Allow me, darlin’. You keep on ridin’, and don’ stop ‘til I say so.”

You nodded and then moaned when he pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub. You fell forward and planted your hands next to his ears again, your face twisted in ecstasy as he pushed you to the peak he’d denied you earlier. You kept pounding your ass back, picking up the pace when his pants began to grow louder, riding towards his own climax along with you.

“Oh, fuck—fuck—Brown Eyes, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, something white hot threatening to scorch you from the inside out.

“Do it, darlin’, come for me,” he growled, his thumb working your clit frantically as the roll of your hips became erratic. “Clench my cock, soak me—”

You cut off his encouragement with a cry of pleasure, your entire body shaking and burning, your cunt pulsing around him and drenching him in your juices. You slumped forward to rest on your forearms, and he went to work, thrusting his hips up into you, grunting and growling into your ear. You stared at him, your head heavy as you basked in the afterglow of your white-hot climax. When you sloppily kissed his lips, spit still wet on your chin, Brown Eyes growled and pushed you onto your back, bending your sweaty legs and forcing your knees towards your ears as much as they could. You whimpered when he fucked into you with feral grunts and growls, your slick-coated walls letting the head of him push deep inside of you. The force was pushing you towards the footboard, and he placed his large hand on the top of your head to shield you from it and hold you in place for his cock.

“Fuck—your pussy feels fuckin’ incredible,” he opened his eyes, and there was a familiar dark storm brewing in them, his pupils blown as he gritted his teeth and increased his pace.

“Come on me,” you whispered, still drunk with pleasure, eyes brimming with tears from his brutal strokes. You reached your hand up and cupped his jaw with pleading eyes.

Your touch sent him over the edge, and he pulled out of you with a moan. You let your arms fall back and bend behind your head, watching him give his cock one final pump before thick ropes of his spend painted your body. You closed your eyes and smiled listening to his choked moans, then opened them again to see his head thrown back and cock throbbing as his body started to come down from his climax.

Brown Eyes stared back down at you and smiled, eyes trailing up your torso from your hips to your breasts. You blissfully sighed and smiled, and he flopped down at your right side with a huff. You looked over at him, his head propped up on his hand, his handsome face and body masked by a little darkness with the light behind his back.

“You look mighty lovely covered in my come, darlin’.” He gave you a gentle kiss and smiled against your lips. “Prettiest thing I ever seen.”

“Surely I can’t be prettier than a bunch of money in your hand for a bounty,” you half-teased.

He pulled back and furrowed his brow, shaking his head. Your eyes fluttered close when his hand cupped your cheek—it was trembling against your skin—and you leaned into his warm touch.

“Darlin’,” he said sternly. You opened your eyes to meet his again, the storm in them suddenly gone. “Didn’ I tell you my first day here that I’d found somethin’ better than money?”

You furrowed your brow. “I..I think so,” you responded hesitantly.

“I know I did, darlin’,” he confirmed, brushing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “An’ didn’ I tell ya I’m not a liar?” You nodded and he pressed a kiss against your sweaty forehead, then pulled back and murmured, “You’re lovelier than any sunset I ever seen.”

The compliment made you shyly smile and giggle, but it quickly faded as you stared into his eyes. A question weighed on your chest, and you worried your lip between your teeth. You’d covered it up and hid it, and now you couldn’t hold it back any longer—especially since he was leaving town tomorrow.

“Brown Eyes, will you ever come back?” you asked meekly. You quickly added, “Here, I mean. To the town. Not to me.” Your skin warmed with embarrassment.

He hesitated, glancing at the sheets before looking back into your eyes. “Well, you want me to?”

Did you really want him to, even after all he’d done since he stormed into town and held it—and you—captive in his fury? The man with a revolver on his hip and a Winchester 73 and a belt of bullets? The one who’d sent John to his death, who’d threatened Mr. Daniels, who’d killed three men without blinking? Did you really want the bounty killer to return and shroud you in his stormy shadow again?

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I want that.”

He smiled against your lips as he kissed you, and you wondered if he ever smiled after killing a bounty as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

masterlist a/n: whew! thank you for reading all of this! it really ran away from me. please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs !!

taglist (join here):

@bbyanarchist @threeheadedlamb @dindjarinsmut @djarinslove @saradika @tortor-mcgee @sofasoap @hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal @notsosecretspy @totallynotastanacc @elinedjarin @maddiedrmr @kaqua @fairy-tale-writer @charlottetownwaffles, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519 @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #thank you for reading this if you made it through #it was a beast to write but I loved it #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin fic #mando x reader #mando x you #din x reader #din djarin x f!reader #cowboy din #old west au #the mandalorian #my fic #din x you #din djarin smut

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aeneaans · 6 months

Text

returning a favor

synopsis: you help diluc patch up a wound—hilarity ensues.

word count: 1061

c/w: none !! i mean if you exclude diluc being a loser … they kiss !

a/n: im sorry for being inactive …!! i wrote this in january please take this as compensation

“Finally,” You’re wiping the sweat off near your cheek, breathing heavily. Your lungs almost feel as if they’re about to stop working. You certainly didn’t expect The Abyss mage to call for backup—lots of backup. That was probably the most tiring fight you’ve had in a while.

With your throat dry and desperately needing water, you croak, “Where do they get so many reinforcements from?” Although your skin was barely scathed, all of your limbs felt weak. You could barely stand, so you collapsed onto a dark patch of grass.

Your breathing begins to slow down as you finally catch your breath. “Well? Aren’t you going to sit as well? I can’t believe you still have the energy to stand.” You question Diluc’s stamina. Either that, or maybe he’s just stubborn. Sure, he was standing perfectly fine since he was using his massive claymore as some sort of walking stick, but nobody can deny the fact that he was panting. A lot.

“I’ll be fine. There might be more of them coming.” He replies, fixing his gloves nonchalantly.

“That should’ve been the last of them. Come on, stop being so anxious!” You insist that the horde you and Diluc fought off just now was the last of them and pat the area beside you, gesturing for him to join you. He sighs and crouches down next to you, a weak attempt at complying with you.

“You should really take it easy, you know?” You sigh, glancing at the patches of black on the ground–a result of Diluc’s Pyro vision. “The last thing I’d want is you getting hurt ‘cause you want to help me take care of The Abyss.”

“There’s no need to worry about me.” He assures you, but his argument is beyond weak.

You roll your eyes. “Everytime you come back from one of your ‘trips,’ you manage to get hurt somehow.” You lean back, looking up at the sky.

“Speaking of…” You help yourself up using your sword. “You got hurt earlier, didn’t you?”

“It’s just a minor scratch—” Before he can finish his sentence, you cut him off.

Shushing him, you scold, “Shut it. I left some bandages in my bag back there. Just wait here.”

Making sure he understands that he needs to stay put, you venture into the previous area to rummage through your bag. It’s already midnight. Most citizens of Mondstadt are probably already all cozy in their homes by now, maybe with a few exceptions.

Jean is probably still in her office working. Kaeya’s probably in the tavern drinking again…and Diluc is still waiting for bandages. With that thought, you decide to walk a little faster to your abandoned bag.

Bandages in hand, you make it back to Diluc within a few minutes.

“Back,” You say from a couple meters away from him. “Let me see the wound.”

“Back so soon?” His eyes suddenly open; It seems that he was on the verge of falling asleep. You feel just a little bit guilty about interrupting him.

“Aw, did you want me to be away for longer?” You tease.

He doesn’t reply, but you notice a thin smile forming on his face.

“Just show me your wound.” You roll your eyes, gesturing for him to roll up his sleeves. He reluctantly does as he’s told.

“It really is just a scratch.” He sighs, looking away from you.

“Who cares? Just let me help you for once.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes as you finish wrapping his arm up. It may have just been a scratch this time, but he would’ve said the same about a hole in his stomach.

“Alright, there.” You finish wrapping the bandages around his arm, tying a tight knot to secure it.

Before you know it, it’s already the next day. Of course, it wasn’t daybreak yet, but the two of you should definitely head back.

“I have to return to the winery,” Diluc says, getting up from the patch of grass. “You’re heading back to the city, right?”

“Yeah, I have to wake up early tomorrow.” You sigh, picking at your skin. “Extra shift from my boss.” Right as you finish your sentence, you let out a yawn.

“You should go. At least get some rest before you go to work.”

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly? I’m hurt, Diluc.” You tease. “Nothing in return for bandaging you up?”

Diluc lets out a soft chuckle. “Alright, what do you want?”

Giving it some thought for a few seconds, but coming up with nothing, you joke.

“Mm, how about a kiss right here?” You chuckle, pointing to your cheek.

Honestly, maybe it was better you didn’t make jokes like that around Diluc. His sense of humor isn’t known to be the greatest. Because unlike Kaeya, who definitely would’ve flirted back, Diluc’s eyes widened and his face turned red. Incredibly red. And for a second, he looked like he seriously considered it.

You can’t help but laugh uncontrollably, “Did you actually think about it?”

Averting his gaze, he purses his lips.

“I’m just teasing, relax!” You sigh, a grin still plastered on your face.

“Do you want me to?” You look up at him, eyes widening slightly. You didn’t think he would say that. Diluc isn’t the type to joke around about this stuff. No, he would never.

Suddenly, he crouches down right in front of you. “I was joking! I…” You clear your throat, desperately looking away. You’re embarrassed. By Diluc, of all people.

He slides his hand onto your cheek, cupping them, and leans in slightly. You glance back at him and immediately look away again.

You bite your lips. “...If you want to, yeah.”

Instead of responding with a nod or a simple ‘okay,’ he cups your cheek with his hand. Despite wearing gloves, he could probably feel just how warm your cheeks were.

…

His lips were really soft. It was a kiss that lasted longer than either of you expected, but it’s not like you were complaining.

Your heart was on the verge of exploding as you walked home. You couldn’t even tell whether your body was burning because you were exhausted or if it was because you were flustered. It was probably both.

It was only then that you remembered: you told him to kiss your cheek.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x you #genshin diluc #diluc fluff #genshin fluff

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greyskyflowers · 3 months

Text

We know there's a lot of weird spots that the strawhats have traveled through and I was thinking about what things would be super creepy out on the open water.

And I thought the sea is always moving, right? There's almost always going to be the sound of waves and water, even if it's quiet. There's almost always going to be the sway that comes from being at sea, the smell of salt, the harsh line of the horizon, etc.

But what if there wasn't? What if the water goes silent and the ship goes still? What if the horizon disappears in a night that's too dark to be normal and the moon is the only light but it sits in the sky more like a gaping hole than the usual nighttime companion?

Dark

Quiet

Still

Something where Luffy and Zoro are out on the ship in the middle of the night, the moon too high and too bright but everything much darker than it should be. The water and sky around them is all a wrong sort of black.

Luffy sits ridged on the figurehead and the frown is clear from the lines of his body even though he's facing forward. Zoro standing on the deck right behind him, the muscles of his back drawn tight and he has his hands on his swords. They're both almost swallowed by the dark.

The moonlight cuts across the deck in a harsh, sterile light.

Sanji leans against the mast towards the back, the very edge of his shoes teasing the cut of the moonlight. The red glow of his cigarette lights up his face just enough to see the harsh slant of his brow and the tightness of his jaw. The smoke is white as it leaves him and then gets swallowed by the dark.

Robin off to the side, arms crossed and hip resting against the side of the deck. She looks like stone in the low light, shoulders back and a blank look on her face.

All of them hyper focused on where the horizon should be, but is instead it's just endless, wrong dark.

Everything still and silent. The water doesn't move and there's no breeze.

The world is holding it's breath.

Quiet.

The only sound is their heartbeat in their ears and shallow breathing that's almost soundless. Chopper clings tight to Nami who's pressed side to side with Usopp. Franky and Brook are both on the other side of the room, keeping watch and braving the edges of moonlight that come through the little window. They're motionless, Brook blends into the shadows and leaves only the occasional white bone for the moon to catch. Franky is especially menacing and huge in the near nonexistent light.

They don't go out, terrified of making a noise that would break whatever silence is currently blanketed over them, terrifed that they'd make Luffy and the others lose focus and take their eyes off whatever they're watching or waiting for.

They stay curled up and silent against the wall that separates them from the moon and the night. It's dark inside the cabin but it's softer than whatever is outside. It's almost comforting, like children hoping a blanket keeps away the monsters.

They stay like that all night. When the first splashes of color spill across the hoizon it seems like a blanket has been ripped off. Suddenly air comes easier into their lungs and their muscles relax enough to flex fingers that had been clenched for hours and roll shoulders that had gone tight.

Zoro is back to his normal napping spot of deck, chin already dropping down to his chest and swords laid across his lap.

Luffy is still on the figurehead but he looks like he's humming to himself and looking towards the horizon with ease.

Robin is sitting down on the stairs, tired but relaxed as she leans into the morning breeze.

Sanji is already making his way towards the kitchen with a lazy stroll, the smell of his cigarettes lingers over the ship.

They don't ask.

Chopper scampers over to Zoro and carefully nudges the swords aside enough that he can climb onto his lap. He finally relaxes as Zoro wraps an arm around him, he's in one of the safest places on the ship.

Nami lets Sanji flutter around her longer than normal, sitting beside Robin who also seems content to indulge their cook a little extra today.

Usopp tails Franky, being careful on where he looks even though he knows there's no risk of him seeing anything terrible anymore. Franky asks something and Usopp launches into a story, eyes brightening up and a smile back on his face.

Brook goes to sit near Luffy and starts to play something warm and welcoming to greet the day.

It never happens again, at least not like it had that night.

Sometimes Luffy or Zoro seem to stare off at the horizon with a sharp intensity, but it breaks quickly.

Sometimes Sanji stands on the deck and smokes until there's a pile of ash at his feet, brow furrowed as he looks out over the water until he seems to blink and break himself out of it.

Sometimes Robin sits on the deck and wears the face she make when she's working on a puzzle, going though everything she knows and trying to make everything fit together.

That endless dark and haunting moon never reappear though. The dark only brings stars and the moon glows like a warm candle.

#idk what this is #i just wanted something creepy and this popped into my head #one piece #luffy #zoro #sanji #nami #usopp #tony tony chopper #brook one piece #franky #nico robin #strawhat #mugiwara crew #straw hat pirates #au idea?#setting sail with greyskyflowers

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yisony07 · 6 months

Text

Trick-and-Treat

Hello hello, despite still being on break, I wanted to take the opportunity to leave you this "thematic" story. I hope you like it!

"I still can't believe you went to that abandoned house and stole that thing," John said in a mix of laughter and disbelief as he stared wide-eyed at his friend Mark. “How on Earth did you do it?”

“Hehehe… you wanna know?” Mark asked with a smirk on his face, while holding a peculiar jack o lantern wrapped in a blanket, which was black on the outside and red on the inside. “When we get home I’ll explain.”

The sky was turning orange at sunset when both men arrived at Mark's apartment. It was the evening before Halloween and the pair of friends had been invited to a party at one of the most popular fraternities at his college. John took a seat on the couch while Mark placed the flashlight somewhere he considered special; in the end, he left it on a shelf near his bed. Mark returned to the living room.

"Well, this is what happened," and he proceeded to tell his story.

(Mark)

As the sky debated whether to stay blue or turn orange, a young man walked cautiously down the street. He saw around him how the houses were decorated with ghosts, witches, pumpkins, skeletons... the spirit of the festival of the dead roamed around, cheering the spirited and frightening the weak. Mark was one of the spirited ones, and what better time than Halloween to explore an abandoned house?

He left the university campus and headed to the edge of the city. Set back from the street, there was a house whose wood had several cracks and holes, the windows were dusty and legends said that there was a treasure guarded by a sleeping spirit, who only woke up during these times to curse thieves.

"Bullshit," Mark thought with a smirk as he stepped onto the grass that separated him from the house.

When he was in front of the door, he looked back to see if anyone saw him: luckily for him, there was no one. He took out his phone and sent a message to his friend John.

Come see me as soon as you can in this place, I'm gonna explore it.

Mark took a few steps to the threshold, grabbed the cold doorknob, and opened it. It was surprising that he had opened up so easily. Even though it was still afternoon, it was almost impossible to see in there, while the dust on the windows prevented the sun's rays from passing through.

"Now, where will the blessed treasure be?" he asked as he entered. When his foot was inside the house, a wind blew around him which made his hair stand on end and the door slammed shut. "What the...?!" he shouted, but calmed down in a few seconds. "It was just the wind..."

Mark walked around the site covering his mouth and nose to avoid the dust. He was going in a bit of a hurry, but he was careful not to trip over anything, although that task was complicated, since everything was almost in darkness. A creak made him look around, but there was nothing, or so it seemed. The whisper of the wind and the screech of wood with each step he took did not help the situation.

"I must be close," he thought, unable to hold back a cough.

Suddenly, Mark fell to the ground as he tripped on something hard that reached his calves. Getting up, Mark did his best to both wipe some of the dirt off and see what had caused him to fall.

"What an idiot!" he exclaimed, taking out his phone and turning on the flashlight. "Why didn't I think of it before?" he said before pointing at the object.

It was a black chest with gold edges. It was slightly open and a strange smell of rotten pumpkin emanated from it. Mark pointed around, but he didn't seem to see anything more interesting than the typical objects of a house with cobwebs on them and in a deplorable state of disrepair, so he returned to the chest, opened it, and with one hand took out the contents.

"This is the blessed treasure?" he questioned with clear disappointment upon seeing a reddish jack-o-lantern cloaked in a dark cloak.

He checked the chest for anything else. Someone else had probably ransacked the house before him, not only for the "treasure of little value" but also for the fact that the chest was in plain sight... well, that it was not hidden.

Mark took a photo as evidence and made his way back outside. Something strange was that, near the door, Mark heard a low cry:

"MARK!!!"

He looked everywhere with open eyes, but nothing seemed to have been the source. After a few seconds, he heard his name again.

"Mark! Mark!"

It sounded very different from the first call, but perhaps it was his ears playing tricks on him, as these screams sounded like the voice of his friend, John. He opened the door and left the house; he left never to return.

"And then I found you at the entrance…," he concluded with a triumphant smile.

"How cool! Imagine when you tell everyone at the frat party!"

"I'll finally be a legend and be recognized properly," Mark said.

"Well, I have to go, I haven't decided on my costume yet, do you want to come?"

"Nah, I'll see what I wear," and Mark couldn't hold back a yawn. "I'll take the opportunity to take a nap and be full of energy there!"

"Okay, see you around, bud."

And John walked away, leaving Mark alone in his house. Mark went to take a shower and wash off the dirt and smell that the visit to that house left on him.

When he came out of the bathroom, he only put on boxers and night pants, leaving his torso exposed. Then, he set the alarm on his phone an hour before the party, turned off the lights, and went to take a nap on his comfortable bed.

Even for the time, it was unusually cold, which made Mark's sleeping body shiver (although he didn't use fans or air conditioning). The sound of a glass object breaking suddenly woke him up.

"What the hell?" Mark said with a hint of fear. With his gaze he scanned the room and, in the seconds it took him to get used to being awake, he realized that a vase that his mother had given him before she died had broken, and his remains were scattered. on the floor. "How the fuck did this happen?" he asked, as the vase was neither in a corner nor near a window.

He looked around him and noticed the jack-o-lantern he had stolen, seemingly staring at him with an evil smile on his face. It seemed to be emitting a gloomy glowing smoke.

Mark dismissed any idea that it was a haunted object and carefully got up to find the broom and dustpan. He got another scare when, upon entering, he noticed that the flashlight was not on the shelf, but on the desk where he did his homework.

"It can't be, I must be hallucinating..." he told himself as he cleaned and threw away the fragments of the vase. "But just in case..."

Mark took the pumpkin, carried it to the apartment door, leaving it on the floor next to the frame, and returned to his room. He checked the time, there was still time before the alarm, so he lay back down on the bed.

"Maybe it was just a nightmare." he said, covering himself with the sheets.

A weak and low murmur sounded in the room while smoke entered through the cracks in the door. Disturbed by what had happened to him, Mark had not been able to sleep again, so he opened his eyes.

A mass of smoke floated in front of the door to his room in a gentle swirl. The door opened by itself and the reddish pumpkin floated towards him wrapped in the cloak, which extended towards the ground as if an invisible being was wearing it.

Before Mark could scream or escape, the smoke lashed out at him, grabbing him by the limbs. Mark struggled, but the smoke's grip was insurmountable; The pumpkin floated until it was close to his face, the cape gently brushing his legs.

"You think you're very brave invading other people's property, huh?" said a deep voice, the same deep voice that had raised the first scream in the house. The voice seemed amused, as if he were cruelly playing with a new toy, "You feel like you're the coolest thing and that people will admire you for breaking the law, right? Well, it's my turn to steal something from you."

Mark was wide-eyed and lip-trembling, unable to respond with anything more than an "I'm sorry..."

"I don't want your apologies… Trick or treat? You'll get tricked!"

The smoke holding Mark pulled down his pants, revealing a cock that was a little big so as not to be hard.

"Coming!"

The smoke lifted Mark and released him, leaving him in the air for a few seconds. In those endless seconds, all the smoke entered his body through all the orifices: mouth, nostrils, ears, penis, ass... Not even Mark's moans or kicks did anything to prevent it. With an evil laugh, no trace of the gas was left outside. Mark felt like a million bugs were moving inside him as he fell back into bed, or like a boiling river. His body shook non-stop and little by little he felt how he lost control over them. First his legs, then his torso, then his arms…

His body rose on its own and remained standing. One of her hands was massaging her nipples while the other went towards her penis. Mark groaned involuntarily.

"I haven't felt this in a long time..." said the spirit from the jack-o-lantern. "But it will be better when it is complete!" she added, and the head floated to rest on top of Mark's, the cape surrounding him from the shoulders.

"No, no, no..." Mark said, shaking his head from side to side, but his hands left their positions and made his head stay still, so that the pumpkin lowered as if it were a helmet. .

And when the pumpkin aligned itself with his features, Mark fell unconscious.

*Beep, beep, beep...*

The sound of an alarm made him open his eyes. Everything looked confusing. He blinked several times until everything became clear. He jumped up from the floor (why was he on the floor?) While he felt his hard cock and walked to the mirror.

Wait... Mark thought, why am I moving?

"Why?" his voice responded sarcastically, and his gaze fell on the mirror.

The cape fell over him elegantly. He was wearing a formal yet out-of-period suit with its sleeves with flourishes. His head was covered with a jack-o-lantern that served as a helmet.

"Because now I'm in control," the new Mark said, taking it off.

His features were similar to Mark's except for the reddish glow in his eyes and the real vampire fangs he had grown. The spirit ran his new tongue over his lips and formed a smile as he inspected his appearance. He moved his hands to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoned the top ones, so that he could show off those juicy pecs.

"Looks like I'm ready to party," he said, laughing. A grimace of pleasure crossed his face. "Fuck... how much I missed this..." he added, undoing the strap and opening his pants, so that his enormous bulge under his boxers was exposed.

Wh-wh-what are you going to do with me? Mark asked, unable to control his body.

"Didn't you want to please everyone by showing off your prowess? I'll just give them proof of our... my abilities," he replied as he rubbed his bulge.

NO!!!! Mark shouted, but it was no use.

The spirit went to the party, leaving everyone surprised by the lascivious and shameless way in which he was dressed.

"Trick or treat," the spirit said through Mark, grinning lasciviously at those present and slapping his ass. "I'm ready to give everyone a good treat."

And Mark, defeated, witnessed and felt how his body was used like a slut to satisfy everyone's horny desires, including the incessant pleasure-seeking of the spirit that controlled him.

-The End-

Trick or Treat everybody!!

#ghost possession #gay ghost possession #gay transformation #male transformation #male tf #male body possession #male possession #body possession #body takeover

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txtmetonight · 2 months

Text

First Love/Late Spring

call summary ⋆ ★ Kang Taehyun was your first love. And you're slowly coming to a realization that he may also become your first heartbreak.

pairing *. * Kang Taehyun x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst, Fluff

warnings *. Underage Drinking/Smoking, Crude Language, bad grammar because I was lazy to properly check it

call duration⋆ ★ 10.3k...

a/n*. * lmao guess who got the flu and the stomach bug at the same time. I love my life. but this one is a little more fluffier and may have gone a little bit overboard with it...oops but that's alr

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed// @matcha-binz

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

You used to watch the night sky and the morning sunrise through your open window, wishing for something new. The birds chirped at your woes and the crickets stayed quiet for your tears, for the love in your heart couldn’t be contained in its chamber. You prayed and prayed to the ones above for someone to love.

A person to cherish in this small town of yours, a boy who could handle the sticky smell of fish that your family harvested by the seashore, who could adore every one of your insecurities and turn them into something more.

And in return for the cries that were wasted to mother earth herself, she whispered to fate to gift you with Kang Taehyun; your best friend turned boyfriend.

You’ve known Kang Taehyun for your whole life, quite literally because he was born in the room right next to yours, both crying out just intervals apart...or that’s how your moms explained it. You were a cranky child, and he was quiet, but then the roles switched as you both grew older and suddenly you were the meek one while he chattered with anyone and everyone.

That’s why you suppose at the ripe age of ten, you believed that he wouldn’t like you, not when other gorgeous girls were chasing his heart. More confident ones that stood their ground and weren’t cowardly in actions and thoughts. Opposites of yours in nature, perhaps were his types, you would often think about.

But he had proven you wrong in fourth grade at the Valentine’s Day dance, he had gotten on stage during the talent show section, sung his heart out, and then proposed that he liked you into the mic. He then proceeded to jump off from the not-too-tall platform and handed you red roses that were behind his back.

It was safe to say that you shyly accepted the flowers with a bright grin on your face, pulling him into a tight tug that caused a chain reaction of hoots from students around you.

The black hole Of the Window Where you sleep

You’ve been dating Kang Taehyun for eight years, close to nine, and though you haven’t noticed it until now, you’re slowly being sucked into a hole of anguish that you’re not sure you can handle. For as long as you can remember, he’d always been ambitious, too passionate about the outside world. This town you two were born in, has locked him in chains.

Held him back from chasing his dreams that you were guilty of thinking were unnecessary and stupid. Not that you would ever tell him that–of course not. But who could blame you, when all you wanted to do was to stay in the comfort of the ocean waves? You desired to stay, and he wished to go.

But that you would have many more years to think upon that, no? Maybe you could change his mind?

You’ve been staring at Taehyun’s house for a while, hair slowly swaying against the wind that blows by; cooling down your burning skin. You look at it from different angles, observing every tiny detail, every flaw that you could find in the dead of night.

The moon provided a sense of light that was strong and mighty. For years on, you’ve put away the terrifying thought of growing up, where he had to ultimately leave you for his own good. You wouldn’t believe it at first, so you tucked it behind a string of memories, but now it had slowly resurfaced as reality had set its unbreakable path for him. And you’re forced to come to terms with it.

How had time flown so much already?

Closing your eyes, your lips tremble as you sink your back against the tiles of your roof. Stars glittered the space above, watching curiously as a young woman tossed and turned. The same stars that have watched you and Taehyun tumble into the overgrown grass below, hide in bushes to scare the neighborhood kids, and kiss softly near the shimmery sea. You suppose that they would miss him too.

After all, you have only a few more months until graduation.

You and Taehyun had decided to skip school today and run towards the kids' playground, down by a passing of trees that wind up into a swing set and into a large play set that had a multitude of slides and ladders. Your uniform had been ruffled in its attempt to be free from your skirt, your socks were at different lengths, and your hair was a mess, but Taehyun thought that you were the most gorgeous woman alive. He couldn’t get enough of you he thinks, as you’re in arms, stupidly in love with him, with both of your bodies crammed in a tunnel.

He likes to think that time and space has stopped when it’s you and him together, just to make him feel better but taking one look outside, he knows that could never happen as much as he wished on a shooting star. Your parents were going to be worried soon, maybe you two should–

“Tyunnie, we should go before I sleep on you,” You yawn, rubbing your eyes as you try to peel off him, but it was hard at the way that he pressed into you with his nose at your nape. “I would just carry you, if you did actually fall asleep,” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead, before helping you crawl out of the tunnel.

“Nuh uh. You would’ve left me to rot and get eaten by the wolves!”

Taehyun sighs, “You’ve been spending too much time with Ryujin lately. She’s corrupted you, sweetheart.” He goes to clasp your hand with his, and suddenly your heart aches. You trace the pathways with your eyes, relishing the bittersweet moment that wraps around your throat holding you tight.

“No, she hasn’t.” You grasp his hand tighter, afraid that he’s going to disappear, hiding in the silence of your words.

Looking at you, Taehyun notices that you’ve been too quiet, and it hurts him at the way that you look crestfallen, with your stunning lips always downturned. He knows why. But he still asks for your answer, in hopes that you will still talk to him.

“What’s wrong? You usually would’ve talked my head off by now.” He softly jokes, brushing your hair out your face, carefully watching you contort your smile into something near plastic. “Nothing much. I–” You struggle with the way that your tongue ties in your mouth, but Taehyun was the beating of your heart, so he understands the way that your fingers shake against him.

The night breeze Carries

“I...I want peaches.” Your head shoots up at Taehyun, smiling as his eyes recognize the sweet smell that perfumes the area. “Fucking hell...” He grins, pressing his lips to your hands. “Peach trees!” You tug at his arms, as you both run in a whole other direction that your homes were but being a few minutes late to supper wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Trees that held peaches were your favorite trees. Pies that were made with peaches were your favorite pies. Wine that was fermented from peaches was your favorite beverage. Taehyun’s lips coated in the sweet peach nectar, were how you liked to kiss him best.

You loved peaches, he loved peaches. One night he had proposed that he had a dream with you that you two had owned a peach farm. You two were dressed quite funnily, with big straw hats that carried a family of mice, but it was cute. Oh, and Hobak was there too.

Your smile diminishes at the thought, but you won’t let it ruin your mood, not when you still must make more happy memories with Taehyun by your side. “It smells so good!” You whine, trying to gasp for breath that you left behind while on your hunt for the fruit. “Gosh, what am I going to do with you?” He laughs, which funnily disappears into an echo when he tries to reach for the fruit, but grazes with it when he jumps.

You snort at the way that his eyebrows furrow, putting up your hands when he tries to send you an intimidating look. “Get out of the way loser, let the pro do her work!” He rolls his eyes as you try to climb the tree itself, but he’s right behind you making sure you don’t fall off. When you get on onto a shaky branch, his hold on your hips makes you dizzy and dopey but you don’t let up on your mission for the fruit.

Grabbing the nearest one without straining yourself, you hand it to Taehyun who stores it in his pockets. And then you give another one, and then another, and then another, before both of your boyfriend’s pockets and your hands are full.

Turning your head, your eyes flicker to the ground and then you congratulate yourself for pondering a good idea. “Hey Tae, throw your blazer on the ground!” His lips twist but he doesn’t complain, putting his blazer on top of the soft grass just as you asked him to. Crouching against the tree, you gently throw the peaches onto the piece of clothing before you lift your body again, this time holding a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Catch me, baby!” You squeal, and Taehyun predicts it as he steps forward and swooshes you from the sky, barely even grunting when you land in his arms. He’s gotten used to the weight of your body against him, and it makes him fuzzy when you land a kiss on his nose when he curls his biceps.

“Hate you.”

“Sure, you do.” You gingerly say, looking into his eyes. You seem to be searching for something under the expanse of his iris, but when you don’t find anything, you wrap your hands around his neck, swallowing deeply at his penetrating gaze.

“You better eat a lot of peaches in the states.”

He scoffs, “We don’t even know if I got in or not yet.” You nod and grab the fruit from his trousers, feeding yourself with it. “You definitely did. My gut tells me it and whenever have I ever been wrong?” You know that even if he doesn’t get the letter through the mail, he’s going to leave anyway. You think that’s worse.

“Or that’s your stomach growling, idiot.” He flicks your forehead before he too takes a bite out from the peach in your hand, juices rolling down your hand. It’s sticky but feels nice on your skin.

“You’re not very nice, are you?” You stick your tongue at him but take his lips softly underneath the soft leaves of the peach tree. You two soon engrave the initials of your love in the bark, admiring the tan hiding below the dark brown of the wood.

Something sweet A peach tree

Wild women don't get the blues

You don’t think you’ve ever found Rei Yujin’s and Park Sungho’s teasing this annoying before. It was a stuffy spring day that forced the school to finally turn on their ACs for the sake of not overheating. It was finally break time, and a popsicle was in hand as well in the hold of the other younger two after they had begged you to buy them some. But you were on the verge of shoving the sweet treat up their noses if they didn’t zip their mouths shut soon.

“I heard that Taehyun is leaving soon?” Yujin slightly tugs at your hair as you pull out a book to read to ignore them, a great grin on her face as she nudges her friend. “Oh yeah me too! You’re finally going to be single soon (Y/n)!”

Ouch.

“What’s it with you two if he’s actually leaving? It doesn’t concern you guys at all.”

“No, I guess not...” The girl trails off, leaning back in her chair. You wish that they would leave you alone, though you know that they were just teasing you. But it still hurt. A lot. Fingers tracing the pages of the book, you flip each one without even scanning a word or two; you’re immersed in your own brain as of now.

“Oh Yujin, what if he finds a hot sexy girl? You know the one that we find on TV; Kate Winslet style with her rich, red hair and her beautiful skin and her–”

“Tits? You fucking pervert!” Yujin smacks his head and they're both giggling at each other, while you stopped listening to their words the moment, they mention Taehyun finding another woman. Your feet tap against the ground with an anxious tremor that you wish to stop. You haven’t cried in so long with others around; no, you’re not a crybaby. You’re strong and you deserve to sneak in some soju from your parent’s shed.

“You know what would be funny though. Taehyun forgetting her.” Sungho nods along with her, his head in his palms as he watches your back quiver, you’re finally catching onto their jokes, and you just don’t want to admit it!

But I find that Lately I've been crying like a Tall child

“That would! It would make a great show. Girl and boy who dearly love each other, but he leaves and finds another–shit that rhymed! "He rejoices and turns to you to make sure you’ve heard him. “Hey (Y/n) did you hear that? I rhymed. I fuck–(Y/n)?” Drops slowly splatter onto your book, marking the pages with your heartbreak.

You start to sob with flushed cheeks, unable to hold back. You’re busted up in all the ways possible as if their mere quips were stones that bruised your insides. You don’t know what you would ever do if Taehyun had forgotten you, not when you think of your life, you think of him.

The two kids start to panic at your outburst and start to shoo the other kids (it was just a poor boy, who was playing Mario on his switch) away to save your face. You feel ashamed and pitiful as Yujin tries to dry your tears and sends Sungho away to call your boyfriend, which you desperately try to croak out not to, but they can’t hear you through your blubber of tears. You feel like a kid again, like your joints were aching as they grew shorter and shorter, teeth painfully being replaced with their baby ones.

You’re (Y/n) (L/n) and eighteen years old, simultaneously portraying as a five-year-old crying in grief. In sadness of a wounding change that could alter your life forever.

“We’re so sorry (Y/n). We–we didn’t know, well–” She stumbles before she’s interrupted by the door opening, revealing one worried boyfriend and your...peer that looks like a sheet of paper. “Please leave,” Taehyun demands, and the poor kids squeak at the way that his eyes narrow, running past him in guilt and fear.

Slow steps that hold heaviness that weighed in his heart make your stomach churn as tender hands come to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart...” He tries, but you move away from his touch, and it breaks him a little. Taehyun grabs your fingers and presses them to his lips and then to his chest, soaking in the way that you cry even harder at the gesture. He’s seen you cry a plentiful of times, but it’s more intimate this time the way that the pain seeps through his veins, slowly suffocating him alive.

He then realizes that he never wants to see you cry. Taehyun starts to sob alongside you, quiet tears leaking from his eyes,

“Do you know how to make a scrapbook?” He starts off slowly, mouth shaking when he feels your fingers wipe away the tears that cascade beautifully down his cheeks. You nod at his question and release a shaky breath to let him continue. “I want to mark our moments together, on pages. Happily, together.” He stares sadly at you, which makes you giggle at the way that his eyes represent boba pearls.

“Did I say something wrong?” He cocks his head, and you say nothing but smile, whispering quietly that all you needed was a good cry session. Taehyun opens his mouth to say something, but the shrill ring of the bell stops him midway. Swiftly wiping your tears and his, he leans in closer by your ear.

“I love you.”

And then he leaves you to be as your classmates come pouring in, aware of the miserable gaze that follows him out.

You don’t know if you can do this anymore. A knife runs deeper into your flesh, each day as you look at the calendar, counting the days off to your heart’s demise. You don’t know why it hurts so much, watching him leave.

But you suppose you’ll love him forever, no? But maybe it hurts to think that he won’t love you but pondering about it longer, it would probably be worse if he still did for the reason, that you won’t be there to experience his heart for a while. A while too long for you to handle. But for Taehyun you’ll do anything for him to be happy.

And so that night, you let him sneak into your room, one hand over your eyes and the other over your shoulders, assisting you over the tree branches. “I don’t understand why you have to cover my eyes,” You pout and he just chuckles, slightly grunting trying to get past a thick branch without tripping.

“Because I want it to be a surprise–come on sweetheart, lift your legs for me for a second.” Your cheeks burn as you do what he says, squeaking when your flip-flops hit the ground.

“If you kill me then I swear I’ll haunt you forever.”

Taehyun snorts before he tightly grabs your hand, pulling you along away from your driveway. “You won’t die...if you hold onto me tight enough.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, feet dragging against the gravel wondering what he was planning. He was quite unpredictable; you could never guess what he would do.

“What do you mean–holy fuck is that a motorcycle!?”

His hands leave your eyes and reveal a shiny black motorcycle, polished in its glory. Two matching helmets hung from the handlebars, still as they put on a show for you two; it looked absolutely ethereal.

“Where did you get that?” You murmur, stalking forward to swipe your finger against the cool, metal, smiling when Taehyun kisses your cheek before getting on the seat. “Asked old Mr. Hwang for it, and after bribing him with money, I was able to get my hands on this!”

He then gently pulls you behind him and tucks your arms around his fit waist, handing you one of the helmets to put on. “I know how much you wanted this, baby. Go on a ride with me through the dark?”

Butterflies flutter through your stomach with great ferocity, their wings graze your throat. You think you’re going insane at the way that he squeezes your arms, looking at you for an answer. And who are you to deny him?

“Of course. I would love to.” You sweetly twinkle, clicking in the straps of your helmet and reaching your arms forward to do the same with your boyfriend...before you realize something. “Wait Tae, do you even know how to drive this!?”

“Er not really. But I’ll figure it out on the way.” He says with a little too much confidence that it partly scares you, to only receive a heart attack when the engine awakens to life. “Oh god, please don’t let us die!” Throwing your body closer, you close your eyes against his back, mouth pressed together when the wheels start moving.

“Stop being so dramatic. And I promise nothing will happen to you or to me!”

His words bring you little comfort that quickly leaves your soul, the minute that he bends forward, speeding up the vehicle, forcing tears into your eyes from the intense wind that flies by. “Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit!” You cry, hugging him tighter against you, when the bike trembles a little.

“Open your eyes!” He looks back for a second before your hands slap his helmet forward, roughly patting his back when he finds it funny at the way you worry. But honestly, when you told him that you wished to go on a motorcycle ride with him, dead at night, you were particularly sure that you did not want to die while you were at it.

“(Y/n)!” Taehyun whines, making you grumble against him, but you still lift your face from his back and open your eyes just as he says.

“Woah...” The passing sea, just where it got too deep for anyone to visit was glowing green, almost as if some kid had decided to color the deep blue with a green glow stick. Just a few meters away from the coast stood tall trees that illuminated the green. “So pretty–you better not say anything cheesy!” You point towards the side mirrors, having fun at the way that he shakes his head and says, “You got me there.”

You don’t exactly think about where he was taking you to, nor did you really care. But how could you? With Taehyun by your side for the moment, everything feels right, like the earth has finally found its missing puzzle piece that’s been missing for a gazillion of billions of years.

But the place that he drives you to is something that jolts your heart, turning your gaze to his curious expression that expresses something shy of sheepishness; his own look that was only reserved for you to read like a map.

A large billboard stands tall and high, and painted in white letters on either side of the board read, “Welcome to Moaville” and the other “Goodbye, hope you’ll visit us soon again.” Taehyun cuts off the bike and helps you off before he takes the helmet from your hand, which you weakly drop.

“Why are we here?” You ask, but you immediately know why, when he pulls out a small picture-sized book with empty pages and a small polaroid that were both hidden in a satchel that were both masked from sight. You take the camera from his hands, and bring it up to look through the lenses, smiling when you find Taehyun already looking at you.

“Take a picture of me?” He poses, looking a little goofy but endearing, so you nod (you were already planning to anyways) and click the button on top, creating a blinding flash. Almost immediately the film starts to slowly make its way to the top which you pull out and shake.

“Did you make me look good?” He asks, walking to your side to look at the emerging photo. “You always look good,” You whisper, sighing when you were right; he looked almost ghostly in the picture but still handsome as ever.

Fingers placed on your chin; he pulls your face towards him. “You make me feel good.” He rasps and pulls you to sit down on the side where it says goodbye. Taehyun was someone you had to study through the lines, he was subtle in the way that he hinted at his true feelings, so you started to have a knack for observing when it came to him.

Ogling at the board, you imagine that if he had left you now, the sense of surprise would’ve bandaged the wound for now.

You envision him saying ‘goodbye’ and walking into the night, leaving you alone. But what pains more is the ‘I love you’ he cries to you.

You decide that when the day comes, you’re going to shut him off with a kiss because his words break the fragile bones that you hold, the ones that could puncture your heart from the way that it feels like it’s going to explode. Especially when Taehyun himself has gone glazy-eyed staring into the distance.

So please hurry leave me I can't breathe Please don't say you love me 胸がはち切れそうで

“We should start,” You say, taking the bag from beside him and dumping everything out, shocked to see the numerous pictures that slide out. “Where did you get all of these from?” You question, softly counting to yourself.

“I have my ways.”

“Creepy” You laugh, before you abruptly stop, stomach turning in at itself as you pick up a photograph of you and him; a seemingly innocent one, but it held many memories that you hold dear to your heart. “You still have this...” You lean on his shoulder, fingers looping around him while you hold the picture–or rather a newspaper clipping in front of you two.

“I saved it for memories...(Y/n) I have something to tell you.”

Eyes darting towards him, you feel a sense of dread start to eat you slowly up from your feet at the way that they go numb. “Sure. Go ahead.” Perhaps he didn’t expect your consent soon enough or he was lost in his own brain once again, but his ears turned red.

“My dad booked the tickets, I’m leaving next month, exactly on this date.”

You don’t say anything.

“But if my admission letter comes in, then I’ll probably have more time here with you.” He reasons, but he doesn’t sound hopeful, not when you refuse to look at him, but instead stare intently at the tiny faces peering back at you two, hair strewn across your faces, clothes wet. Not much older than ten or eleven.

After hearing the unbearable silence, you choose to comment. “We look so young.”

He softly rumbles, “We do, don’t we.”

“We should go back.” You close your eyes against the metal poles that cut into your head,

“Yeah. Just for a moment.”

“Come on (Y/n)! Don’t be a wuss!”

“I’m not a wuss!” You yell, but you don’t feel so confident in yourself, waves of anxiety rolling through your veins as the water below turns into a whirlpool of dizziness, closing in on itself. The sun burns through your skin and the jagged rocks underneath your bare feet makes you reel with discomfort.

You weren’t meant to discover this spot, nor were children even allowed near it, but a group of friends you desperately wanted to fit in with had cut through the thick woods and found this beauty of a sight.

And so, they were making you jump off the ledge of a very steep cliff, that for sure held fatal boulders that would for sure, rip you in half the moment that you made contact with them. Not that they carried though–the group at least. They whooped and whistled at each passing step you took, mocking the way that you shivered, contradicting the very hot summer heat.

“Guys I don’t think this is a very good idea.” A small voice cuts through the tension as one of the girls, Wonyoung, steps up before she’s shot down with menacing glares. “Do you want to go up with her too?”

It’s sick at the way that the group coos at her, but they don’t have to do much to intimidate her because with a shake of her head, she backs away and gives you a sympathetic smile. You huff softly as you kick at the ground, you should really learn how to stand up for yourself.

“What are you waiting for? Jump!” You’ve dazed too long into space to notice how much closer they’ve gotten to you, too close for you to turn back. “I’m not goi–”

Everyone freezes at the sounds of laughter that echo from the trees, breath stilling in their throats, and you take it as a chance to take a few steps away from the edge, but you’re quickly stopped when one of them harshly grabs your arm, twisting it. “You like Taehyun, don’t you?”

Taehyun? Looking back at the group of kids that also stumble around at the crumbling ground below them, one voice sticks out to you out of the five boys that made their appearance.

Black hair that flopped around and glasses that were pulled down to the very tip of his nose, without no doubt that was Taehyun and his friends. He wasn’t the first one to be aware of you yet–first, it was Beomgyu who waved at you excitedly, which set out a ripple effect.

Greeting them back nervously, your feet slide as the girl grins back at you again, a vicious smile that seemed to pierce.

“You're going to jump, or I’ll make Taehyun take your place instead.” You were bewildered at the way that she said it so assuredly. “No, he won’t. He’s not stupid.” You snort, trying to push her away.

“You don’t know that? One of the boys could accidentally push him in. In fact, isn’t Mark friends with him? Aw is poor (Y/n) going to let her friend take the fall for her.”

You shake your head as tears spring into your eyes, and she finally lets you go so you can spin around and face the sky itself before it dips down into the deep blue.

Your limbs are like jelly, and you almost pass out, but you still hold your ground. By now the group behind, softly chants its words of encouragement and your toes are just over the cliff, but you can’t let Taehyun jump in, he could barely even swim, nevertheless seeing him on the rocks below would just be horrible!

“You’re almost there (Y/n).” She gives you a little nudge, chuckling at the way you try to grasp onto the air for support for the one last time.

Though she’s right, you’re right there...and so you tuck your head and close your eyes, so you won’t see your blood once they contacted with whatever had in store for you.

And you jump.

One word from you and I would Jump off of this Ledge I'm on Baby

“What was that?” Huening Kai asks, perking up at the loud splash that the others definitely had heard too, from the way that their eyes curiously scan the area. “I don’t know–did someone fall in?” Soobin gasps, getting up and watching the group of kids, huddle around near the tip of a rock face, dangerously close with camera out.

“Should we go? Isn’t (Y/n) there?” Taehyun swerves his head up and nods, dragging the rest of the group to march with him as he searches for your features among the sea of people, just along the steep hill, that looked as if any more weight was to be added, then it would break off right under their feet.

But when he doesn’t find you, his nerves electrify, and his hands without even knowing tug one of the members (Beomgyu) by their sleeve, footsteps heavy.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He says, loudly, pushing past people to get to the very edge where a girl stands, obnoxious sounds of pictures going off, which forces him to gently tug her backward, asking with a nervous fervor where you were.

And when her eyes go blank and looks over to the side, he knows what had happened. “What the hell is wrong with you? Soobin call the ambulance!” Yeonjun who comprehends the gravity of the situation, responds quicker and already has 119 pulled up on his phone, eyes widened while the others join him, providing needed answers.

At the word of the police dropping by, the group disperses quickly, but Taehyun doesn’t let the girl go, pushing her towards one of his friends in the hopes that they wouldn’t let her slip out of their arms.

His hands ruffle through his hair, try to think logically but when he doesn’t see any sign of you, all of his rational reasoning gets thrown out of the window. So, he leaps.

Taehyun didn’t have the chance to hear his friend’s muffled words, but he could guess what they were saying, by the way that they screamed at him. The cold water overloads his senses, driving him out of control as the sharp edges of rock cut at his skin, drawing unknown amounts of blood.

His legs are stiff as he tries to reach back up for the surface, fingers barely even disturbing the top before they drop back to his side. Where were you? Opening his eyes, trying not to pass out from the intense stinging, he finds nothing but pure darkness with a few pieces of algae floating around.

His brain is muddled, and he can’t swim upwards, or even kick when his limbs have suddenly gained at least more than his weight, dragging him down. His nose scrunches at the lack of oxygen, hands slowly starting to stop flailing. Taehyun was starting to get tired...

Only for the sunlight to burn his eyes, the blue sky just overhead instead of the water bubbles that escaped his mouth. He chokes ferociously, but the warm pair of hands wrapped around him keeps his body grounded.

“Are you crazy?”

Taehyun softly smiles at the words, now able to tread water but you still don’t let go of his shoulders, wet hair sticking to your face making you look slightly crazed, but you still look stunning in his eyes. “You’re okay,” He weakly groans, when his wounds on his legs blaze with fire.

“Of course, I’m okay! Are you okay? Jesus! Why would you do that?” He shrugs and observes the large cut across your cheek, raw and red with a layer of skin peeking underneath. Taehyun’s fingers slowly move to your cheeks, heart full at the way that you don’t flinch against his salty touch, staring at him intently.

“I’m okay...the boys are calling the ambulance, and if they ask, say that she pushed you in.” He doesn’t leave any room for comments, pulling you close against him. You breathe heavily at his affection, a big smile that sent sparks through your spine.

“And do you remember when the police came in and they like started had to tackle down Yeji because she tried to run away from them!” You laugh, clutching your stomach, beach chairs pulled up at the edge of a very ‘homely’ cliff.

“I do! And then we still got grounded like forever, even though we didn’t even do anything.” You wince, you remember how bad the isolation was, stuck in your room only able to use made-sign language to talk to him through your bedroom window.

The chair beside you, groans as Taehyun pulls himself off from it, stretching as the early sun wisps around his body, eyes fluttering close against the fresh air. You watch him from behind, smile growing at how captivating he was, with the golden rays showcasing him like an angel. Turning around to face you, he holds out your arm to take and you giggle at the way that he pulls you into his chest. He’s warm.

Feet bare without any shoes, you both track your way to the edge once again, feeling deja vu at the way that your heart starts racing, but you’re not sure if it’s because of how ethereal Taehyun looks next to you or...the rushing water below.

You’ve both grown, so there wasn’t really a chance of drowning as your feet both grazed against the sandy floor, just enough to have your head bobbing over the surface, and rocks below were excavated away after your incident, but you tiedy to immerse yourself in the feelings of first love–with him by your side.

You both now look at the water below and agree to swim back to the sand shore, where you get a hit of nostalgia after you two were rescued, your town’s news reporters stand there with bated breaths and Taehyun has to roughly push past them as he covered you in his wet shirt. Looking at him, you already find him staring at him with gentle eyes that hold so much emotion you feel like you were already tangled sunk deep in the warm sea.

Jerking your head away so he couldn’t see your red blush, you sigh and decide to tell him something you haven’t told him before–though you know he’s suspected it before. “I jumped in because Yeji kept telling me that she would push you instead, so imagine my surprise, when I see you in the water with me.” You pause to catch his lips. “I would do anything for you.”

He grins, and grips your hips, nuzzling into your head and gosh he really reminded you of his cat. “I know you would...me too. I would do anything for you too.”

Your head spins at his words and you pretend that both of you could actually do everything and anything for each other. You wish that he could tell you not to come with him, willingly so you could heed his wishes with a tail tucked behind your back. That you wouldn’t have to feel so much sorrow because you didn’t want to leave and explore the world.

Tell me "don't" So I can Crawl back in

Taehyun clutches your hand tightly.

And you both jump.

You don’t actually smoke a cig as much as you used to. Cigarette sales for you were during freshman and sophomore years of high school when you would hide underneath the school bleachers, perhaps it was stress, or maybe because all the older high schoolers found themselves with you and Taehyun rather than in their own classroom because they claimed that you two were rather cooler than the other freshies.

And a group activity turned into two, because the others would have graduated a year later, you two had found comfort in heavy soju that sent you into a spiral.

But it was never too much that you had let your grades drop, no Taehyun would ever allow that. So, it wasn’t too bad and you two had limited yourself more and more as you both got older, only a few smokes every few months until you completely stopped.

You’ve never liked the smell that it left or the smoky haze, but it still felt nice to feel a little more grown-up, just a bit cooler than you literally were. You wish you were young again though.

And I was so young When I behaved Twenty five

You’re both under the science hallway stairs this time because the bleachers were closely monitored after someone was caught making out, but if you close your eyes, you can feel the tense atmosphere of the whines of your school’s ever losing football team.

Taehyun has his phone out, trying to blink through the reeking vapor. You're both trying to calculate how many days he has until he must leave, how many more opportunities you both have to recreate as many old photos as you both can to put in the scrapbook.

You two have already dressed in tight clothing and have posed shamelessly, climbed to the top of the town’s playground, screaming at the top of your lungs, redoing his first proposal to you, except this time during prom, where he stole the mic again and much more which included Soobin taking a picture of you two dripping wet from last’s adventure–which was a while ago.

Finals had come up, and you two were stuck studying until you passed out.

You and Taehyun passed with flying colors–thank god.

“We have fifteen more days” You croak, finger sliding against his screen. That was a day over two weeks and grad was just in another seven days. “You’re right, time’s been flying fast.” You nod, “Way too fast.”

“We should figure out a way to stop time. Or maybe a time machine.” He says, pulling out his camera. You both get in position, just as in the old picture near your Converse, mouths tugged in the same way, both looking at each other raising finger guns near your faces.

This photograph was probably your favorite one.

“(Y/n) would you be a sweetheart and go get the mail?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you get up from Taehyun’s bed and stalk to the top of the stairs to see Taehyun’s mom, holding a pair of keys with a soft smile that looks extremely like your boyfriend’s.

“Of course, I was waiting for Taehyun anyway, he’s taking a shower right now!” Your steps thud against each step, and with a childish grin, you grab the keys from her hand and skip out of the door. It was a very nice day today, and you suppose the grass is greener than ever and the birds are chirping as loud as they can be.

A few neighbors are mowing their lawns, waving hello when you walk past them, your own father rolling his eyes when you laugh at him. The mailbox isn’t far, and it doesn’t take you too long for you to insert the key, pulling the little door open to find a bunch of letters and a small package that was able to squeeze past the small space.

Fingers cramming underneath the stack of white paper, you manage to pull everything out in one go, just a few falling out from your grasp, clicking your tongue when they touch the concrete below. You bend your knees to grab one.

“No fucking way.”

Now all the letters are on the ground.

Because you’ve let them go from the shock of seeing Taehyun’s name printed on the backside with San Fransisco, just right below it–Taehyun had gotten accepted.

Your arms don’t feel attached when you robotically pick everything up, Taehyun’s acceptance letter shaking in your hands. Flipping the envelope around, your fingers itch to open it but you quickly tuck it under your arm and walk back to Taehyun’s house in a much duller mood.

You suppose that you’re happy, Taehyun gets to spend more time with you, and he’ll be able to stay longer in this small town. But it still stabs you inside–he’s leaving in any situation, and you can’t do anything about it.

When you get back to his house, you let yourself in through the cracked door and meet his parents by the dining table, placing all but one of the mail down on the countertop, mouth cracking open as you hold his acceptance letter up.

“Taehyun got mail back from California!”

“Seriously?”

“What.”

Two voices overlap with each other, one a little more joyous and higher his mother and father rising from their seat in surprise. The other was weak with a tone you couldn’t exactly recognize. Facing the boy behind you, your hands deliver the letter to him, a smile disappearing at the way that he trembles.

“Tae go ahead and open it, oh god we’re so proud of you.” His mother pinches his cheeks, and his father pats him on his back, but he doesn’t react to any of it, just staring at you instead.

Something’s wrong and you know it.

“Mrs. Kang, did you guys not check the mailbox recently? They usually send acceptance letters quite earlier than now.” You make talk as Taehyun slowly rips open the letter, popping off easily so he can slide his fingers to pull out the paper. “We did...I made Taehyun go down, just a week ago...and you said that you didn’t find anything right, honey?”

“Mhm.”

Looking up at Taehyun, he avoids your eye, reading the paper out loud, for everyone to read, voice shaking in his throat. But he’s unable to make it through the first few lines, when his dad who was eager enough to read faster than Taehyun’s unbearably slow pace, points out probably the biggest heartbreak of your life.

“Taehyun! They’re letting you fly out to them, early!”

Eyes shooting towards Taehyun’s you’re surprised to see them well up with tears, looking down at his feet as he nods. His mother tugging the paper out from his arms, confirms it with great excitement that you couldn’t reciprocate, hugging her son tightly against her, smothering him with kisses.

Taehyun’s face held something close to when he was caught stealing candy when he was younger...he’d known all about the acceptance letter and that he was going to leave you early, not the opposite that he had promised.

Yet now I find I've grown into A tall child

Taking a step back with anger, you want to throw a tantrum, you want to rip the letter in half like a child. You want to cry and whine while holding onto your mom, telling her to make it stop, to not let him go. You greatly wished to clutch onto his leg like a petulant toddler.

But you don’t. Instead, you ask, “When does he have to...go?” Your voice is weak, but the parents don’t take notice and reply with a merry “May sixteenth.” The day after graduation. Taehyun’s hand reaches out to you, but you gently swat it away and tap on his mother’s shoulder with a smile that blubbered when it spoke. “My father had just texted me; I have to go home.”

Mouth twisting at your abruptness, she nods, “All right then! Tell your parents not to make dinner, we’re going to celebrate tonight!” You agree to mention it to them, but you’re not sure you want to see Taehyun that night, so you quickly walk to the front door, saying goodbye.

You’re furious, and you bet that if anyone looked outside their window, they would’ve asked who that big baby is that’s stomping wildly across the road, not looking both sides to realize that there was a car that doesn’t even dare to beep.

“Watch out!”

Your body spins around, as your skirt hits the bumper of the car, but you're safely in the hands of your lying boyfriend, eyes big as saucers when he looks down at you. “(Y/n) how many times did I tell you to check the road before crossing the street!”

“Yet you couldn’t tell me that you were going to leave early!?” You pull away from him and keep on marching down the road, aware of the way that Taehyun follows your footsteps, keeping close by. “I’m so sorry (Y/n), I just didn’t know how to tell you!”

“Oh, fuck off, Taehyun!”

A mother cups the ears of her young son’s ears, sending you two a glare that you couldn’t care about. “(Y/n) Come on, please! Listen to me!” He cries, running ahead to stop you from your tracks, taking in all the kicks that you throw at him, angrily giving up when he scrunches his nose too hard at a very strong particular punch to his stomach.

“Were you going to leave me without telling me?”

He huffs, trying to regain his breath but he shakes his head. “No, of course not, I–”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when you actually found out. Do you think that I was going to care? You’re me leaving anyways!” You’re harsh with your words and he winces.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t mea–”

“No, it’s alright.” He hangs his head shamefully, and he shakily sobs when you come closer. “I couldn’t come to terms with it. I didn’t want to leave you sooner, I just wanted to pretend that you were going to be with me forever, even though...”

“You should stay, but you can’t” You wipe the tears from his face, and you find it ironic that this time, you’re in his place, comforting him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I could never be too mad at you for a long time. You’re probably going to come visit us anyway, so I don’t know why I blew it out of proportion.”

The look he sends you churns your stomach a little, but he pushes you along to your house, smiling through the crack of the door before you close it on him.

“Get pretty for me, baby.”

When it comes to the time for the dinner party that his parents both hosted for him, you two locked yourself in his room that night, admiring the way that the other looked for the last few times.

Graduation had come fast as you and all your other friends and your boyfriend sat at a round table, all wearing the same attire. You’ve come to enjoy the lovely atmosphere and the beautiful memories, you’d shared with each other, which you’re now using against them in a game of “Who’s going to cry first.”

Jay and Gaeul were currently sobbing against each other, Sunghoon was holding a staring contest with a tree, Ningning was cursing as her tears fell, trying to gaslight the others that she wasn’t actually crying...and everyone else was doing something somewhere in the middle.

You, Huening, and Taehyun laugh, teasing the people that you’ve grown up with, holding a bittersweet heart that wishes to never stop beating for them.

“Alright, shall we start our ceremony then? Please welcome the graduates of 20XX!”

One by one, everyone leaves to get their diploma that many have shed tears into, cheering as they run to their family waiting for them in the crowd. You watch with big eyes and chuckle when Jake manages to trip over the steps and flip his econ teacher off, drumming your fingers on your table, patiently sitting to be called, exchanging looks with your boyfriend.

“Kang Taehyun!”

You yell loudly as the boy next to you shushes you when he gets up, but his face is flushed with happiness when he walks across the stage, and you’re unable to tear your eyes from him–he’s quite mesmerizing, to say the least.

And when it comes time for you to walk, he swears that you look like an angel that has graced everyone with your presence, but Jake gags and pushes him away to hug you, congratulating you. You’re severely happy and your cheeks hurt, from the amount of smiling that you’ve done in the past few hours.

A hand creeps up to your shoulder, and suddenly there are a bunch of carnations sitting in your hand, feeling shy when Gaeul points it out and starts teasing you and your boyfriend for being sappy.

And I don't wanna go home yet Let me walk to the top of the big night sky

You don’t want this day to end, you want to stay young forever you think. But you managed to capture the feelings with a click of a camera, tugging Taehyun to kiss, when the flash goes off and everyone screams “cheese”.

Please hurry leave me I can't breathe

The open window didn’t help your lungs, as it struggled to take in air, heartbeat shattering against its cavity in a tremendous matter. Next to you sits Kang Taehyun in his glory, using the scenery as an excuse to look at you. It was midday but the roads weren’t littered with cars, leaving a clear path for the Kang’s family car to roll down easily. The radio chattered with nonsense, but it was turned down over an important conversation Taehyun and his mother were having.

“Please be careful when you get there!”

He scoffs and crosses his arms, “I feel like you’ve told me that over a hundred times. I promise I’ll be safe!” Flinching, when you smack him over the head, telling his mom that he was being incredibly rude and that he should apologize to her–just to make him a little annoyed for your fun. “Oh, I can’t believe how grown up you two are. I just remember when the both of you were able to fit in the palms of our hands.”

That cues Mrs. Kang's emotional tears and her rambles about life, comforted by her husband and the silent chuckles that you leave behind your hands. But you understand how she feels, heart aching and eyes bloodshot even after the relentless sobbing you did last night with Taehyun, lying down in his flower garden. You two were able to finally talk about...what you guys were going to have to be. He said

“Long distance, lovers” had a nice ring, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth. And after much back and forth over what title to pick, you decided that a label wasn’t needed if you knew the other with magnificent love.

You wonder what the boy next to you feels–but you don’t really want to face him yet.

“Taehyun you’re sure, you’ve got everything, from here on we can’t do anything else if you’ve forgotten anything.” His father reminds him as he rolls into the airport parking lot, sighing deeply when he finds you two in awe of the airplanes that fly out, disappearing into the blue sky in mere seconds.

“I’m sure. I made (Y/n) and Mom check it for me too.” He then gets out of the car and helps his dad unpack two large suitcases that he was able to shove his whole life into, clenching his fists when the trunk of the car closes right behind him.

He lets his father carry his suitcase so he can hold you flush against him, smiling blindingly with eyes that get bigger at the glass elevator and even larger at the great doors that lead him inside to where he could check himself in.

“Shit this is huge...” You murmur up to him, clutching the back of his leather jacket, when the cool rush of air filters in once the sliding doors open. His parents are just right behind, watching you two with their own feelings of sadness, smiles unable to reach their eyes when you kiss his knuckles softly as you two walk up to the counter.

“One ticket for Kang Taehyun!” The elderly woman handed him the paper slip, before telling him to hurry it down to get through security check-in because his flight was going to leave soon. Gulping at the ticket in his hand, you find that you suddenly have a distaste for these particular passes.

You’re not sure what’s worse right now, either that time was going too slow because you don’t know how long your feet are going to give up under you, watching him leave or...

Time going too slow was the worst.

You wish that you could hold him back, but your heart seems to beat erratically, too hard for you to even understand as the approaching gates of the security check-in come into place, families and friends saying goodbyes to their loved ones just beyond a glass window.

The whirling crowd of people seems to disappear as you set your sights on your boyfriend, giving his hand a tight squeeze when you feel the tears start to drown your waterline, blinking them away when the threaten to spill over.

He doesn’t say anything, but squeeze your hand two times more, putting every ounce of his comfort in the gesture.

“Oh, Taehyunnie!” His mom throws herself in his arms, finally indulging in her distress, and you feel like you're watching a drama where she rubs his cheeks and holds him close while he rejects his affections with a red face.

You decide to stay back and let them have their family time, watching them wistfully when Taehyun also starts to tear up, nose beginning to twitch. He whispers sweet words of affirmation which they nod to and at last back up, beckoning you to come closer.

Mrs. Kang stares at her husband before she awkwardly coughs, wiping away her fallen tears. “Dear, we should go get some chocolate from the vending machine, I’m just a bit hungry.” And as he opens his mouth to object, she drags him away, winking in your direction, making you and your boyfriend laugh quietly, turning to each other when it gets too hard to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach.

“You better have fun.” You smile, dusting down his shirt, looking him straight in the eye when he nods slowly. “It won’t be the same, without you being by my side...” He starts to choke and stops your fiddling by tugging your arms over his shoulder, pulling you close while he buries his head in the nape of your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your jaw.

You choose not to say anything, just wanting to relish in this tender moment, your lips pressing gently to his temple, closing your eyes when he hugs you tighter.

Breaking apart, he quickly looks at his watch, and kisses you ever so softly, so warmly that his lips melt into yours, his grip on your clawing into your skin, penetrating the deeper levels, just past your nerves that jumble nervously.

“I’m going to miss you a lot.” You think you’ve spent all your tears already, for you don’t cry and Taehyun seems to have the will in him to suck it up, but there’s those lingering sobs that echo in your hearts and ring in your ears, a connection that you both shared. “I promise to call you every day, actually scrap that–facetime you every day and–”

He yelps when your palm covers his mouth, taking it away when he stops his rambling, staring at you with curious eyes. “You don’t have to do all of that. Just promise me that you’ll visit me again, in our town. I don’t care how much ever it’s going to take you, but please... see me once more. Promise me that.” Your pinky shakes as it raises, holding it towards his heart.

“I–okay. I promise you, sweetheart.”

Taehyun is sincere and it breaks your heart a little. Pulling his finger apart from you, his lips find your forehead, attached to your hairline for quite some time before he’s being forced to pull apart, when his father taps on his shoulder, cocking his head towards the growing line. You swallow deeply and hesitantly let go of his t-shirt, letting it drag through the tips of your fingers.

Taehyun exhales and sends you a watery chuckle, “I love–”

But it hurts, so you shut him up with a swift kiss to his lips, just once more. “Me too. Have a safe flight.” And then you weakly push him, quivering when his parents hug you.

Please don't say you love me 胸がはち切れそうで

You think you're going insane, chasing Taehyun through the glass panels, his parents just behind you while you slide your palms over the cloudy barrier, mimicking Taehyun who just does the same, walking at a fast pace. Until...

He’s gone.

Nights you’ve spent awake, you’ve imagined yourself crumbling onto the ground, crying your heart out, but you don’t. You find yourself turning back and following his melancholic parents back to the car, where they’ll drop you at your house, and perhaps, you’ll cry then.

Months go by and you’re still waiting for a call from Taehyun, the time is a little bit over four in the morning, but you think that another day is about to go amiss. He’s gotten a little busier lately, but you suppose that you would do anything for him, even if it meant waking up at ungodly times so he could call you, patiently sitting in your bed for a response that would never come.

One word from you and I would Jump off of this Ledge I'm on Baby

You know that you told him not to worry about keeping up with you every day, that it was unnecessary, but you feel a certain amount of soreness in your muscles and in your bones.

The line rings for a while before it turns silent again and your heart burns, but you put it aside and instead decide to climb out of your window to watch the moon. The times that he’d called you, he seemed joyous and jubilant, with a bright smile that outshone the sun and the galaxies of burning stars. You think that’s he happier there, but that’s okay.

Everything is okay.

Though you wish that he faked his gleeful smiles, telling you “no” that the States sucked and the friends he’d made on the way could never compare with this small town. Just so you can, feel pitiful for him, for yourself, and all the stars that miss him on your rooftop. But you know that he’s ashamed.

Tell me "don't" So I can Crawl back in

As long as he came back to you.

One word from you and I would Jump off of this Ledge I'm on Baby

This is the second wedding you’ve been to, in a span of a few months. And it’s the first one that’s taken you out of the little town and out into the world.

Taehyun hadn’t kept your promise.

You blankly stare back at the wedding invitation in your hands, eyes furiously reading it over and over again, because there was no way that was real. Taehyun wasn’t getting married–who were you kidding? Taehyun wasn’t getting married, no not after just six years...that would be crazy. Extremely insane.

So why hasn’t he visited you so far? So why were you crying? You’re not sure, but your heart aches as you drag your eyes to the woman who is his fiancé. She’s pretty, but you’re sure that she could never compare with you, not eight years of love, since fucking fourth grade. Since that Valentine’s Day dance.

Taehyun’s wedding is going to be February thirteenth, just a day before your anniversary where you spend your day in your room crying over missed love.

You don’t know if you want to go anymore or not, or to even forgive him.

So I can Crawl back in

You wish that he hadn’t sent you this, so you could forever live in the shadows of your delusions that he would come back for you. But you would do anything for him. Even if he asked you to relive the heartbreak of your first love, once more.

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popawritter12 · 8 months

Text

Yandere!Clark Kent + Yandere!Bruce Wayne x female!reader

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent

𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕒| 𝔸𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕖| 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖| 𝕥𝕧 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖: Dc movie series (?

ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕖: Scenes of jealousy, attempted aggression.

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥:1 of 1

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: I spent several days trying to do something coherent, I didn't like Batman vs Superman nor did I find a coherent way to make a Yandere story of these two. But hey, this is the final result, which is located after the events of the new flash movie (I mean, the new reboot of the DC world)

{AND YES, I PUT A PHOTO OF BATMAN VS SUPERMAN BECAUSE I THINK IT WAS AWESOME}

⋆ටᆼට⋆ ⋆ටᆼට⋆ ⋆ටᆼට⋆ ⋆ටᆼට⋆

Coffee, cooked mate, tea, black tea, green tea, smoothies, croissants, ice cream.

You smell the sweet atmosphere and feel the warmth of the cafeteria atmosphere fill your soul and body with happiness. As if you have changed from a horrendous and heavy environment to one full of happiness and peace and love, you smile, thinking about what to ask for.

For a few days you longed for a break from work, and finally you had it, you could finally have breakfast in complete peace, without worrying about whether you arrived late or late to a place or to do such a thing.

After talking to the clerk about what you were asking for, you sit down to think about your life, and what you could do today. Walk in the park? Watch a movie? Or maybe just lie in bed and sleep like you've never slept in your life.

Or maybe... visit Barry, one of your best friends.

Yeah, that sounded like a great idea, catch up and talk like they did before they got into college.

But... Something went wrong, something interrupted the little rest you had, and you knew that thanks to the people who suddenly went outside.

As if everything were a chaos orchestrated by destiny, as if it were God who had decided to let humans take the reins of their destiny, you see how a kind of fabric is torn in the sky. A hole in the shape of torn cloth reveals two men, peering out of the gloomy chaos that had ensued.

People watched, took photos with their cell phones or recorded videos, or were directly shocked by the bizarre situation in which they lived. The surreal thing about this fact was that a part of you thought that Barry was in danger.

A pang that runs through your stomach as if it were your body telling you something, forces you to start pushing people.

Elbows, shouts, pushes; everything seemed like chaos with the people who began to mobilize.

You walk out of the cafeteria, looking directly into the hole that had opened up.

As strange as it may seem, or as fearful as you did not express, you were able to see two people in the distance that you casually or conveniently knew.

---Bruce? ---Questions with a small voice ---, Clark?

All the noise that people were making because of the shouting, or just because of the amount of people moving slowly fades away, as if your brain was only focused on the two people who were there, above, staring at you, as if they were watching you. searching.

It is then that the hole gets bigger, and an immediate desire to run or hide from what was going to happen ran through your mind and body taking over you

But... everything was in vain, everything had already been determined, everything had already been done, as if destiny had already been written on a stone.

You can see it, the world you've known, the people you've always loved, or even your very existence disappears.

In a blink, you go from being at work, watching the world be destroyed by something you didn't even understand, to waking up from your bed.

You remove the sheets from your body with violence, throwing the sheets on the floor. You look around you, scared; it was your room, but almost completely different.

Instead of posters of your favorite bands, there are posters of people you didn't know. From titles like "The woman in the cabaza" or "The dance of the end of the world" were movie titles that you had seen in your life.

Instead of losing your mind, or starting to panic, you know you can't lose your mind now.

Inhale, hold, exhale, inhale, hold, exhale.

You kept up the routine for a few minutes, until you even managed to keep the peace, even now.

---Remember; everything is fine, everything is fine, ---You inhale again, trying to keep the peace ---, everyone is alive, it was just a nightmare, it was just one more nightmare.

After a few minutes that at this point seemed endlessly insufferable, a sudden call interrupts your attempt to keep all your ducklings in line.

Seeing the cell phone, which was on top of a small book that was on top of a wooden shelf, you take it in your hands.

"Barry <3"

A small hope that everything was a nightmare appears, so you answer.

---Hello? (Name)? --- You hear his voice, like a worried older brother.

---Barry? ---You questions, happy.

You listen for a moment as if Barry did sounds of a happy person, as if he is celebrating that you still remember him.

---It's good that you remind me...! --- He cuts off his own sentence ---, I mean, I'm glad you're okay

---Yes, I'm fine... ---You answer, averting your gaze ---, I just... woke up.

--- Thank goodness --- He whispers, as if he were nervous ---, by the way, can we meet somewhere?

---Yes, s-sounds perfect ---You whisper, trying to hide your nervousness ---, where can we meet?

---I can hear you're nervous, did you have another nightmare? ---He asks.

You blink a few times, remembering that he knew about the nightmares you had for practically your entire life.

---Yeah... It was horrible ---Your voice cracks ---, I can't believe it felt so real!

---Huh? But if all your nightmares feel real... ---He mentions, confused.

---B-But... I could see as if the world was destroyed, something in the sky opened up! ---You explain, nervous ---. Everything was fine, it was my day off but... when I went outside, something in the sky opened up and...

---Oh... ---He whispered, this time more confused ---.., wait, did it open and something or someone peeked out? Like a person or...

---Bruce and Clark! The two of them peered out of the hole that opened ---You express, worsening your condition.

Barry is silent, it was noticeable that his words were stuck in his throat. It is then that, after a few seconds and listening to you sob with fear.

---(Name)... ---Barry called you.

---And I thought it was a dream because everything was being quite strange, and... ---You explained, getting out of bed and looking at the posters in your room ---, I'm in a stranger's room!

---(Name)

---It looks a lot like mine! But it has very... strange tastes, I've never met any of these bands or movies ---You say, investigating the room further.

---(Name) ---He calls you once more.

---What's happening?

---It was not a nightmare.

---What? ---You ask, before listening to someone knock on your door.

---(Name), I need you to go to the park in front of your house, Bruce and I will be there, okay? --- Explains Barry, you could see that he was trying to stay calm.

---O-Okay... ---You whisper, ending the call quickly, looking at the door.

After a few seconds of mustering as much courage as possible, you go to the door and open it. Your fear is suddenly replaced by surprise when you see who was there.

---Clark?! ---Your voice is shot throughout the house, to your surprise, you can see it there; completely calm.

He was carrying a white ceramic cup with flowers, which seemed to have something inside.

---What's up, (Name)? ---Clark asks, confused ---, are you okay?

You look at him for a few seconds, trying not to say something that would probably be very incoherent. You look at the cup that he was carrying in his hands.

---It's nothing... Did you need something? ---Questions, playing with your hands.

---Oh, nothing, nothing ---He repeats, with his cheeks a little reddish ---, I just wanted to bring you a cup of coffee, as I saw that you didn't get up.

You blink a few times, before seeing how he extends the cup towards you.

---Thank you... ---You whisper, before taking the cup in your hands.

--- By the way, --- He mentions, before suddenly changing his tone --- who was that you were talking to?

You can see that because his body was tense and his tone of voice had changed, he sounded different than what you were used to.

--- It was Barry --- You answer, drinking from the cup between your hands ---, he said he needed me to go to the park near here.

--- Oh, --- His voice changes even more for a moment, erasing the smile on his face, but suddenly it's back to normal.

---I'll go now ---You say, happy ---, say hi to Louis for me.

As you walk past your good friend, he suddenly grabs your arm, not forcefully, and in fact hardly exerts any force in his grip.

--- (Name) --- he calls you ---, can I go with you?

---Hey?

Your smile disappears, before scratching the back of your neck with one of your hands.

---Well... Barry says that Bruce will be there, don't you think it would be better if I go alone?

Yes, you were perfectly aware of the certain tension that existed in their relationship, therefore, it was best to avoid conflicts.

---All the more reason I must go... ---he whispered, tightening his grip on your arm a little.

---That?

---No, no, nothing... ---He lets go of your arm, nervous ---, I just want to make sure you're safe.

---But... I'll be with Barry and Bruce... ---You answer, confused ---Besides...

--- (Name) --- he calls you again, taking you back, now grabbing your arm, --- May I go with you?

You can see that his body acted unconsciously, as if he really needed to accompany you before anything else in the whole world.

"Well...okay." You relent, letting a heavy sigh fall from your lips.

You can see how his attitude and face change, his grip is quickly removed, and a smile appears on his lips.

---Okay --- he whispers.

＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／

You can feel how the tension in the air increases with each second of silence that was between the four of you.

---Uh, well... ---Barry whispers, playing with his hands, before walking next to you ---...It's good that we're together now!

---Yes, thank goodness... ---You whisper, before looking at your best friend ---.., Barry, could you tell me about the nightmare?

Bruce looked at you, you could see a soft smile tugging at his lips, before speaking.

---You didn't tell him anything, Barry? ---Bruce asks, intrigued.

---Eh, no, she doesn't know yet ---The young man answers, before looking at you.

---Know what, exactly? ---Asks Clark, again being serious.

---It's complicated.. ---You whisper, before taking a breath ----.., apparently I had a nightmare, as is recurring, but they're telling me it wasn't!

One of your hands goes to your lips, your nails settling between your teeth, until Barry takes your hand.

---Hey, hey, hey ---He's calling you ---, I know this is all complicated, but for now we're not in danger, so let's sit down and...

You can not just one, but two hands grab Barry's wrist, abruptly pulling his hand away from yours.

---Keep your distance, Barry/kid ---Both Clark and Bruce say at the same time.

The surrealism of the scene, along with the sudden reaction of both of you, surprised both Barry and you.

Barry quickly pushes them away, his tone changing suddenly.

---What's wrong with them? ---Barry asks, confused and frowning.

Neither of us could say anything, because you directly speak louder than usual

---What's wrong with all of you? ---You ask, with anger in your tone---. We can't fight now, especially not over something as small as him grabbing my hand! --- You approach Barry, taking his shoulder ---, don't fight, do you really want to make a scene having, I don't know...? More than 28 years?

After the nightmare that seemed to be real, the display of obvious jealousy on Clark's part, and an obvious attempt at another jealousy scene, you were on the brink of losing your mind.

Clark and Bruce don't act like they used to, where did your kind reporter who was actually one of the strongest superheroes on the face of the earth go? Or your good friend who showed you appreciation very rarely? By whom were they replaced?

You can see that both men stare at you, while Barry tried to calm the situation by talking, positioning himself in front of you. But that only caused the look of both of them... Yanderes to intensify, they will begin to lose patience, as if they were on the verge of taking Barry and... damaging him a little, with their own hands.

You know what I mean, don't you, (Name)?

＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／

I don't give a shit what the world thinks; The Bruce that appears in the last Flash movie is great, or at least I like how the actor looks.

#obsessive love #yandere #yandere male #yandere dc #yandere bruce wayne #two yanderes #dc #clark kent #yandere superman #yandere batman #yandere superhero #yandere x you #yandere one shot

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definitelynotamhafan · 9 months

Text

Punishment (Darkness pt. 1)

“Hurting someone is easy…..But healing? You wouldn’t know about that, now would you?”

Alone. That’s what you first felt when you entered the world. When the first winds produced by the primordial goddess sent you to the Egyptian dunes scorched over by her light, when your eyes had opened for the first time, when the only thing shielding your eyes from the fiery ball of madness in the sky was the sun goddess herself.

Am-Heh, that was the name spoken in fear by many, even by Ra herself. Once a goddess which you trusted, which had suddenly banished you to the underworld.

Devourer of millions, Eater of enternity, The One in the Dark. As much as these titles swelled you with honor, as much hurt and pain they stabbed in your heart.

But now, those times of sorrow and pain are now over. Trapped in the underworld as you were, you didn’t have much to complain. You sat in your lake of fire and scorching lava, watching the bubbles blow from time to time, chatting your days away with whatever poor soul you could find, which had maybe gotten lost from the field of reeds, or escaped Osiris’s watchful eye. Your boredom however, was increasing moon by moon. And trust me, the dark confines of the land of the dead were really starting to piss you off. That was, of course, until you heard a scream.

Screams here were rare, since there were only dead people, who had nothing more to fear. Well, that was except for the newcomers who failed the weighing of the soul test. But of course, they never let out screams that loud.

You grabbed your headdress, pulling on your black shendyt, as you dried the lava off yourself. You tiptoed towards Osiris’s chambers, not knowing what the incredibly evil pea-looking bastard was up to. He wasn’t there.

I wonder why…

Your eyes gazed towards a hole in the sky, well, what you would call the sky of the underworld. There it was. After millennia of being stuck here. An exit. You crawled out, dragging your whip with you, which you managed to recover from a chest under Osiris’s bed, which hadn’t been hidden quite well.

The stars. You hadn’t seen them in ages. They looked even more beautiful than you remembered.

——— It has been at least a moon or two since you had escaped from the underworld, your betraying lover’s scorching eye searching restlessly for you each day.

“Honestly Ra, give me a break.” You mumbled to yourself, pushing back your grown out hair out of you face.

You groaned to yourself as you pulled the veil over your nose and mouth, preventing the specks of golden sand to creep where they shouldn’t be. Just as you were about to walk over to the Foreign God and complain about the poor condition of the tent which he had you in, you noticed a red haired beauty laying on his bed. If it wasn’t for red hair, you wouldn’t have recognized him in the first place, and yet….. how could you? You barely were there for Nut’s birth, let alone his.

You had only heard rumors, of course. Of the Great Seth, who Osiris was pretty much simping for. Every minute you would spend in your lava bath, casually trying to enjoy your exile as an ex-god, Osiris would strut in, waving his hips like a schoolgirl and twirling his nonexistent hair as he rambled on about how perfect Seth was. Damn. Now you could see why he was so obsessed with him. No wonder he acted like that.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a whistle from behind you, and a friendly shoulder pat.

“Well well, Am-heh. Like what you see?” The Foreign God asked.

“Shut it.” You elbowed him in the ribs. “The tent you gave me is ripped!”

“Awwwww, can’t you handle a little wind?” He teased, his hand tracing your shendyt.

“Paws off, this fine ass belongs to someone else.” You retorted. “And no. Sand has gotten in places I didn’t even know I had in the first place!”

“Alright, alright. You can sleep in my tent tonight, if you’re so insistent.” He winked suggestively.

“You smooth fucker.” You mumbled as you entered the tent, dragging the little luggage you had, only to be interrupted by a groan.

the red haired sleeping beauty was waking up, and he wasn’t exactly pleased.

“What the hell? Don’t you know how to keep quiet for at least half a-“ He stopped himself as soon as his red eyes landed on yours. They widened in horror as he realized what you were, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it in your direction, which happened to be a pillow.

You caught the pillow in one hand, effortlessly before chuckling.

“And who might you be? FG’s little boyfriend?” You teased. “What? You act like you’ve never seen a god before.”

“Y-you…..Y-You!” He stammered out. “You’re him! Am-heh!” He pointed at you, shivering.

“Relax, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you.” You chuckled, reaching to tuck out a red strand of hair which had gotten in Seth’s face.

He pulled away as if he had just been bitten by a venomous snake. He backed up against the wall, staying as far away from you as possible.

“I know about you! I read the scrolls-! And the hieroglyphs on the temple walls! And-“ he raised his voice.

“I know….I know…” you tried to calm him down, putting your hands out in a protective manner. “See? I’m harmless! I can’t do anything.” You showed him you hand, which was marked by a curse.

Its black veins molded in with your skin, the ink-like substance making your very existence a pain in the ass. The little flakes and specks of silver and gold, which had been your only map to the sky in your exile to the underworld. His Ruby red eyes stared at your open palm, his own cursed one reaching out to examine it, only to pull back away.

“I don’t trust you.” He hissed.

“I know.”

#Ennead #ennead manhwa #ennead seth #ennead mojito #egyptian mythology #egyptian gods #seth ennead #foreign god ennead #Foreign god #seth #Ra #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #EgyptianGod!reader

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hermit-lover · 10 months

Note

Hellooo I’ve come again to ask for another request since yours are still open!! :)) I can’t remember if I wrote this already but I loved the platonic xisuma oneshot you wrote and was gonna ask for another one but this time X asking Boatem to babysit the reader for the day and the reader and Boatem Crew getting into lots of shenanigans!! : DD thank you and have a good day/night!!

-🪨

Boatem Babysitters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Character: Boatem x Child!Reader

Type: Series blurb (3) (3.3k)

Theme: Fluff, platonic

Summary: When Xisuma is needed off-world, its up to Boatem to keep you safe and entertained. Lets just say their better at one aspect than other.

TW: Mentions of respawn mechanic, panic, jokes about kidnapping

A/N: Lovely to have you back 🪨 (Rock anon) :D. Boatem is not childproof at all, this is a horrible idea X, but some good shenanigans.

The sun was bright in the sky, hot rays basking your shoulders and cheeks. Squinting against the onslaught you toddled after your dad, following the familiar green armor. His hand tucked safely around yours. It always annoyed you that you couldn't feel all his skin this way, but the smooth cold press of the armor was welcome in the heat.

"You remember what I told you?" Dad asks suddenly, pausing before a strange splay of houses, with a pole of boats going into a large hole. The houses were mismatched but somehow felt woven together. The start to a large-chair? of rocks, what seems to be a mountain range, a factory? and a couple of homey looking houses. The scenery almost completely distracted you from the question, but you managed a response.

"Course!" You chirp back, eager to run around this new territory and touch EVERYTHING. A stern but gentle squeeze of your hand reminds you where you should be focusing.

"Can you repeat it?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow underneath his purple tinted visor. You've always wanted to try on his helmet, but he says its to delicate to play with. You sigh, dramatically.

"Behave, follow any orders they give, don't run away, don't eat food off the ground, and avoid nighttime and dark spaces." You recall the words he had engrained into you from the moment you had started getting other babysitters. Speaking of, the prospect of seeing the funny cat man, the bird, and the mustache man excited you. They had never babysat before!!! Maybe you could get away with not following some rules! Papa K was always quite strict when it came to enforcing things. Dad sighs, letting some tension drop from his shoulders and letting go of your hand.

"Good now-" He's cut of by the sound of rockets, and his head turns to follow the sound. Excitement rushes through you suddenly, and you cant hell but crane your neck to look for the source. A black blur swoops down, and lands clumsily onto the grass. Straightening out almost as if flustered.

"Sorry if I'm late! I got really into building and-" Its the mustache man!!! His posh accent contrasts dads own, and he sounds so fancy- paired with his suit- you want to have a tea party with him!!

"Your alright." Dad assures, "I was just going over the rules." He nudges you gently towards the mustache man. "Kiddo, this is Mumbo, Mumbo this is my kid."

Mumbo- but you prefer mustache, nearly stumbles over himself to offer you a handshake. Sort of silly, you think, because kids don't do handshakes, but it makes you feel special. His fingers are long, and very gentle and he shakes your hand softly. Theres a weird red stain on his palm, and when he pulls away you realize theres some on your own hand. Curiously, you sniff it- then sneeze harshly as dust infiltrates your nose.

"Ah- sorry!" He's wiping his hands down the front of his jacket now, smearing the red dust onto the black suit coat. You giggle at his antics. He flushes. "I-um Impulse and Grian should be here soon." He informs both you and Dad, but the words are instantly lost on you.

"What's your base?" You ask, tilting your head and trying your best to coax him with puppy eyes. Mumbo crumbles immediately.

"Uh well-" He turns to point at a weird...tree Gollum? Holding a van? "Thats my starter base- the tree is called Tereesa." That pulls a giggle from you. Tereesa- like tree- a smart name. He smiles, eyes crinkling and creating a sort of sparkle you enjoy. "-And that's the beginning to my mega base!" He's pointing to the big weird chair, but before you can ask-

"I'm here!" A loud voice announces behind you. You jump, spinning around and nearly crashing into Mumbo. Instantly hands clasp your shoulders to stop your decent. The voice belonged to the bird! Golden hair and bright red feathers glitter in the sun- he probably didn't need rockets to fly- which explained how he was so quiet.

"About time!" Dad scolds him, "I was waiting for at least two of you to be here- sure Mumbo could probably handle it but I like more eyes."

"Sorry X." The bird rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "Well im here now! and so you can skaddle off to whatever important admin business and we!-" He leans towards you and Mumbo, nudging you with his elbow. "Will have a great time."

Dad pauses only a moment, squinting at the pair suspiciously before sighing and shaking his head.

"You better keep 'em safe- alright?" He asks, and the pair enthusiastically nod. "Okay- good bye hug." Dad opens his arms and you throw yourself in, nuzzling into his armor. A wave of sadness passes over you- and you lean back with puppy dog eyes.

"Do you have to leave?" You ask, his eyebrows furrow, but his eyes stay impossibly soft.

"I'm sorry Kiddo, I told you I'll be back before sundown." He reassures you, reaching forwards to pat you on the head. "Love you." He smiles.

"Love you too!" You respond enthusiastically, finally letting go and letting him stand. He pulls up his communicator- and is gone in a flash. The momentary silence is deafening.

"Sooooooooo..." The bird starts, "What do you want to do?" hmmm, what DO you want to do? You consider your options. You could....see their bases?

"Show me around?" You request, turning to face the pair. The bird looks enthused and Mumbo smiles as well.

"Course!- though thinking about it, maybe we should avoid the Boatem hole-" Mumbo trails off, thinking hard.

"Yes. We absolutely should avoid throwing Xisumavoid's child into the void." Another voice agrees from behind you- WHATS WITH IT AND PEOPLE APPROACHING FROM BEHIND???

You spin around, nearly knocking into the bird and Mumbo, who catch you again. This sight is very different- not the cat man but a new person! He has a yellow top hat, odd yellow suit, and a HUUGGGEEE purple bowtie. You almost want to ask if he got dressed in the dark!- but his eyes shine with amusement and affection, and his stance is casual. He smiles at you, offering you a handshake.

"Impulse- Wonderful to meet you." You reach for it immediately, his much larger hand easily grasping yours. Its warm and surprisingly smooth- but something odd presses between your palms-

You pull away and find a small hard candy in your hand. A gasp pulls from your throat before you realize it. Candy!!!! He gave you candy!!! Instantly he moves up the list of 'favorite people'.

"Oh c'mon Impulse thats a cheap move- buying favor with candy?" Bird man sounds disappointed, but you honestly couldn't care less. Impulse holds up his hands in surrender.

"If it works it works." and it works indeed.

"Thank you Mr.Impulse!" You chirp, remembering your manners before cramming the candy into your mouth. It's sweet and smooth, coating your tongue in mouth watering goodness. It's a flavor you can't quite place, but you don't care, its amazing. He chuckles, seeming amused by your reaction.

"Theres more where they came from." Impulse winks, and Mumbo stifles a laugh. His gaze snaps to the offending spoon. "What?"

"Sorry its just- your offering candy to a child you just met-" Mumbo breaks off into giggles and you gasp in realization. Your eyes widen and you stare at Impulse, gaping.

"Dad told me not to accept candy from strangers!!" You squeak, shuffling to frantically hide behind the pair.

"No no-" Impulse seems slightly panicked now, "I'm babysitting you just like those two- Xisuma trusts me." You just glare out from your spot behind Mumbo. He sighs, "Look, do you even know the bird's name?"

Hmmm....

oh.

"No...I guess I don't..." You squint at the bright red bird now, who squawks and glares at Impulse, before turning sheepishly around.

"I'm Grian." He offers a hand, its smaller then Mumbo's and Impulse's, but has a pointed claws extending from his nails. Your slightly worried he may hurt you- but hes extra careful to avoid that. Then, he spins around to face Impulse. "Now they know!" he declares, making the other shake his head fondly and approach.

"So whats the plan with activities?" Impulse asks, and you break into a grin.

"Show me your bases!!" You bounce on your toes, looking at the mismatched group excitedly. Nods all around.

"Mumbo's first!" Grian decides, grabbing said mans hand, and your own, to pull you towards the structure. Admittedly from afar it seemed quite cute- but as you approach...

Its large claws and gaping maw hang over you- its shadow completely consuming you and your small group. Instinctively, as Grian pulls you closer, you start to slow, tucking behind the cozy looking red sweater. The creature- Tereesa, as you learnt, stares down at you. Its beady eyes dig into your soul. Shivers run down your spine. Grian is talking, but the words are muddled compared to your heartbeat in your ears.

You jolt as a hand is delicately places on your shoulder.

"It's okay. It's just a build, it cant hurt you." Mumbo's voice is low, his grip tightening only a moment before releasing. The tension releases from your shoulders- right- just a fake tree.

"So what do you think?" Grian spins around with flourish, seemingly happy to take the role as tour guide. You fumble- having not payed attention.

"Its cool!" You nod, hoping your convincing enough "Sorta scary." he nods, too enthralled to notice anything wrong- but Impulse laughs under his breath.

"Next we should go see Scar's!" Grian declares, the other two nodding along. But this begs the question-

"Who's Scar?" You ask, Grian looks offended- but Impulse cuts him off.

"I think you call him 'Cat man?'" He tilts his head, watching to make sure it's correct. You gasp- of course!! Jellie!!! You bounce excitedly.

"Yea! I wanna see Jellie!!"

"Oh- so you know his cats name but not his?" Impulse laughs, nearly knocking off his top hat as he leans back. You glare, crossing your arms.

"He never told me his name! And Jellie likes me so I like her and want to know her name!" You defend immediately- and its true!! When Jellie had escaped she had spent her afternoon basking in the sun on your lap while you colored outside. When the cat man had found you two he was so frazzled he didn't introduce himself! Now you'll remember. "Can we go see Jellie??" "Of course!" Grian chirps, butting in. "I'm sure Scar will be delighted to show her off- she's practically his prized possession!" His wings flare out- but he catches himself. "Right-can't fly-" He murmurs, offering you his hand. You eagerly accept, threading your fingers together, then sticking your other hand out. You fumble. You have two hands...but there's three people! What happens now? Mumbo steps forwards, accepting your hand, and, seemingly sensing your distress, offers his other hand to Impulse. Who shakes his head, but accepts. Now satisfied, you tug the line forwards. Scar's base turns out to be the series of houses, a winding path beginning to be strung amongst the homey, pointed roof houses. The color pallet of reds, browns, blues and grey blends into a pleasant environment of peace and warmth. The roofs in particular catch your eye- copper! It was easy to find, but apparently really annoying to make the nice blue Scar had. There was so much of it! Scar must be super cool!! Thankfully- instead of sneaking up on you like the others- you notice Scar immeditly. He to wore a top hat, but his was a lovely shade of red compared to Impulse's bright yellow. A matching suit, and monocle. What's with people and dressing so fancy here? Then, just as you had noticed him, he notices you. "Well hello there!" He calls, waving with the hand not on his cane. Not wanting to let go of any hands, you tug forwards. Your group shuffles towards him as he strides to meet you. "What's with this little entourage-hm? Getting up to some mischief?" The words are accusatory, but the sparkle in his eye and gentle smile tells you that even if it was the case, he wouldn't be mad. "No Mr. Scar, we're here to see Jellie!" You inform him, practically vibrating with excitement. "I like your base! Lots of blue copper!" "Thank you, thank you." His infectious smile grows at the compliment, and blush dusts his cheeks. "And it would be my absolute pleasure to present lady Jellie-" He bows, gesturing into the very house he exited from. Peering inside- you spot her! Fluff curled up on a plush couch just inside. Unable to help yourself you squeal, letting go of your new friends to dash inside- minding to wipe your shoes to not track mud onto the carpet. At the commotion, she lifts her head, blinking sleepily.

"Hi Jellie- remember me?" You blink back, grinning at the small creature. She perks, letting out a long thrill. You reach a hand to cart if through her soft fur- giggling when she presses into the touch eagerly. Her wide green eyes watch you contently, pupils wide and comfortable. Scar always took such good care of her- her fur was free from tangles, and she smelt vaguely of flowers. You pet behind her ears, and enjoy the purrs that vibrate her small body. "She likes you a lot." Scar's voice rumbles behind you, gentle enough to not startle. It's almost reminiscent of Jellies purring with the sheer amount of fondness it's laced with. "I like her a lot." You respond, craning you neck to glance at the fancy man. He grins widely at you. "Are you planning to spend all your time here cuddling Jellie?- Not that I'd object to it, certainly makes our job easier." Ah so he was told. You hum, genuinely considering it. You liked Jellie a lot! But...there was more bases...so many cool things to see... "Sorry Jellie, but I think I want to keep exploring." You tell the cat, watching her watch you. She meows, and you'd like to think she's saying 'Go have fun!' With that you stand, turning and offering your hand to Scar. "Okay- I want to see Impulse's base now" Scar's hand is warm, calloused and scarred skin odd against your own, but he's so careful and sturdy in a way that's distinctly him. You don't mind. The group is still waiting, stopping their conversations at the sight of you and Scar. Then, you notice another problem. You had two hands, as did Mumbo, Grian, and Impulse- but due to Scar's cane he could only hold one hand! and if he was holding yours- he couldn't hold someone else's! But...you didnt want to NOT hold his hand.... Before you can worry any longer Grian accepts your hand, taking Mumbo's, and then Mumbo holds Impulse's. The line is a lot more uneven this way...but it solves your problem! "So you said you wanted to see Impulse's base, but I think we should stop at Pearls before- she'll want to say hi!" Scar informs you, and you nod along. Pearl..thats such a pretty name! Maybe..

"Is her base the purple one?" You ask, and Scar nods. Excitement sparks, its such a good color!! "That's a great idea Scar." Mumbo adds, making the other man beam. "Hey- I'm the tour guide!" Grian objects, "Maybe I'll just avoid Pearl's base completely in protest!" "Well that wouldn't be very nice!" A new voice cuts in, and you realize abruptly you were basically already there. Their bases were so close together!! You squint for the new person, and find a lady leaning against the fence of her porch, watching the group with a smile. "Hi!" You greet, waving your hand, still clasped with Scar's. Your toothy smile clearly catches on, and she grins back. "Heya Kiddo!" Skipping her steps, she effortlessly strides to you. "Want a tour?" Its clearly mostly to annoy Grian- but you cant help the excitement. "Yea!!!" You nod enthusiastically, and he huffs, releasing your hand to allow you accept Pearls. Her hand is soft, but still bore the marks of tons of building- like Scar or Papa K's. As she gently guides you to her garden you decide you like it. The garden is a wide range of flowers all in bloom, purples, reds, yellows, blues, pinks- every color imaginable!! You want to touch them- but the fear of breaking the delicate blossoms holds you back. Pearl begins to name them, pointing to each and explaining a bit about them. Her voice is soothing, but carries and energy to keep you from falling asleep. As the sun beats overhead, and the gentle breeze ruffles your hair, you cant picture a more perfect day- A loud yelp makes you jump. You spin around, terror clutching you for a moment. Your original group had wandered a bit, until lingering around the large tower of boats and pit. Impulse, Mumbo, and Grian. Where was Scar? Horror clutches you as you notice his hat at the edge of the hole- and you lunge forwards before you can think. Your legs carry you quickly, and you skitter to a stop, landing harshly on your knees. Reaching to pick up the hat and peer in. Did he fall in? Was he okay? Why wasn't anyone doing anything? When your unable to see him down the hole, you lean further, peering into the dark depths below. Further...just a touch more- The ground under your left hand crumbles- and the sudden lack of support sends you forwards- For a second you feel weightless, fear clouding your mind and tears springing to your eyes- Wind whips by- Then your abruptly caught- slight pain pulling in your shoulders at their newfound strain. "I've got you-" A voice growls, labor clear. Your tucked into a chest- immediately burring into the soft material- and your brought to the surface. The grass under your feet has never felt more reliving. Knees buckling, you bring your savior down with you. "You're okay." A hand pats your head, the voice rumbling the chest you were clinging to. "You're safe."

Slowly, your heart slows, and the tears fade, while your limbs still shake- confidence begins to dribble back. Eventually, you lean back, blinking up at the person who caught you- Grian. His eyebrows are drawn into a worried expression, but he smiles upon seeing your face. "That was scary, huh?" you nod in agreement, sniffling. "Where is Scar?" You ask, still caring despite the shock of the event. Grian chuckles, clearly still recovering himself. "Don't worry, he's okay- he's back home." "B-but why was his hat here?" You ask, now searching for the offending garment. "Uh- well- Xisuma can explain later." He promises, seeming to awkwardly avoid the topic. Not want to cause any more stir, you simply nod, vowing to remember to ask later. Mumbo appears in your vision, and offers a hand. You take it, letting him basically pull you to your feet. The rest of your group lingers nearby, clearly wanting to approach, but also wanting to give you space. They all apologize, check in to make sure your okay- and Impulse gives you more candy. Then, a small warping noise. You gasp, spinning excitedly to see him. Dad stands right where he left, having just warped back from where he was. He spots you as well- and you waste no time in launching yourself at him. "DAD!" You squeal, letting your self burry into his chestplate. You wish it was the soft material of his shirt- but when he hugs back you deem it okay for now. "Hey kiddo!" He greets, voice tired, but warm. "How was your day with Boatem?" "I nearly fell into a big hole!" "You What."

#hermitcraft fandom #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft #hermitblr #atlas writes #hermitcraft fic #grian #xisumavoid #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #impulsesv #pearlecentmoon #boatem #hc s8 #dadsuma

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hyunverse · 1 year

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wingman ʚɞ felix

lee felix && reader.

genre — fluff, pining, drabble.

about — you confront felix about his failed dates which you've set up. all hell breaks loose . . . or does it?

note — hi hi! do leave ur feedbacks, i love reading them ₍ᐢᐢ₎ requests open!

felix is tired. the whole day has been nothing but complete shit. as he walks down the hallways of the university, all he could think about is crashing onto his sofa and sleeping until the sky turns black. he’s not even thinking about what to have for lunch, too occupied with the thought of going to sleep.

“idiotic lecturer,” he hisses under his breath, both hands clasped onto the straps of his backpack. he had worked tirelessly on his assignment, only for the pages to be ripped up to pieces by his lecturer.

the hustles and bustles of the building makes felix’ head dizzy. he quietly cusses again upon realizing that he forgot to bring his headphones. being stressed makes you forget a lot of things — felix makes a mental note to calm down.

"lix!" a voice calls out — your sweet, sweet voice.

felix briefly looks back, turning around quickly when he remembers that he's avoiding you. immediately, his steps become faster. you've been blowing up his phone with angry texts from last night, and he knows exactly why.

"lee felix, i know you heard me," you yell, trying your best to catch up with your best friend, "please, stop avoiding me!"

as much as felix wants to curl up and hide from the world, he pauses in his spot at your last words. the blonde simply can't bear to see you plead. a deep breath is taken before he turns around to face you.

"i don't get it, lix. this is the third time i've set you up with my friend and you ghost them."

you're visibly frustrated — he hates that.

"the date was kind of boring y/n," he mutters, looking at everywhere but him, "i don't think we clicked that well."

a sigh slips past your lips, "did you even try?"

"i did!" he defends.

brown eyes glance around the area to ensure nobody's nearby. only artworks stare back at felix.

"i always try to like the people you set me up with," felix adds, "but i just can't. maybe you should stop setting me up with people."

"i just want you to go out and socialize lix. that's all. you barely go out, for god's sake. sometimes it feels like you yell at your computer more than you talk to people."

ouch.

his eyebrows furrow, face screaming disbelief. you've never said anything of the sorts to him, always so caring. so gentle.

"you're not in charge of my social life, y/nnie."

"but i'm your best friend! i just want to know why you keep on ditching my friends."

his lips part to talk, yet nothing but heavy exhales slip out. the tip of his tongue grazes his lower lip to wet them. at the meantime, your eyes bore holes into his pale skin, constantly pushing for him to answer. the pressure and the sounds of the airconditioner compressors intensify, boiling felix' blood.

"why, lix?"

"because i'm in love with you, okay?"

"what?"

the moment felix realizes what he had just said, his breath hitches. suddenly everything is silent — no sounds, just pure fear. fear of you turning away and abandoning him, fear of not being friends anymore, fear of —

"felix?" you mutter again, "do you mean that?"

his rings decorated fingers scratch the back of his neck, the other hand busy checking his pulse.

"lix?"

"i mean it, really."

"oh," is all that you manage to say.

just oh? felix could feel his saliva getting thicker, and that feeling in his stomach sinking even deeper.

"yeah. . ." he mumbles, and for the first time in forever, awkwardness surround the two of you.

"well," you breathe out, "i like you too, actually. . . been setting you up with all these people to try and. . .you know, get over you. felt like you didn't like me and if you had a partner, it wouldn't be as hard to get over you because i'd feel like i have no choice but to do so."

"huh?"

it's your turn to turn embarassed. you could feel your whole body heat up.

"yeah. . ."

"all this while, you've been setting me up because you didn't think you had a chance?" felix utters in disbelief, eyebrows raised, "i've been in love with you since forever."

the words sends you spiralling, cheeks turning red. a whirlpool of emotions overcome you — happiness, disbelief, stupid — name it. you're possibly feeling every emotion available except grief.

"i feel so stupid, lix" you can't help but smile; he thinks it's adorable.

felix bites the inside of his cheeks and the grip he had on his bagpack straps tightens, "you've been setting me up on dates for months now, how about i set you up on one this time? a date with me, at the park tomorrow?"

you swear you've never felt this giddy before.

"of course, lix. i've been waiting for this since forever."

#rin.delivers!#felix x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #stray kids x reader #felix oneshots #lee felix oneshots #felix imagines #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff #felix fluff #felix imagine #felix oneshot

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foxglovethicket · 2 months

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Wild Things

Summary:

Some Nesta x Rhysand for day 7 of @sjmromanceweek !

Devour me, he used to urge her. Devour me, Nesta.

I love you so.

Devour me.

She would nip at the tips of his fingers in play, pretending to be a little feral thing. And he would pretend not to see the wildness in her eyes and dripping from her hair and glinting off her canines when she smiled one of her rare open-mouthed smiles.

(AKA, the toxic Nesta x Rhys fic that has been rattling around in my brain for months)

Chapters: 1/1

Read on AO3

November 11th. The first snow of the year numbs Velaris like novacane.

White snow, white sky, white salt on the roads. Clean and blank and pure for a new year—her twenty-fourth, as of sometime mid-morning. Upon waking, shivering under her dove-grey duvet, Nesta thinks: twenty-four is the year of not fucking things up.

The kitchen is the fire to her hearth. The spray of small yellow rosebuds in a vase on the island, Gwyn’s flame-lick of hair, Emerie’s embrace, the round smiles that fill their cheeks, the pastry waiting at her seat in a white bag, spots translucent with grease. It’s all warm. it all makes her blood move, down to her fingertips, where they prickle with feeling.

***

Want is a funny thing. The question—what do you want?—I want, I want, I want, like a black hole eating the stars. Nesta wants a lot of things: to be warm, awake, clean and untouched like the snow on her bedroom windowsill.

Emerie and Gwyn had asked her months ago what she wanted to do today—today, she has some extra measure of choice, today she’s allowed to want a little harder.

Today, Nesta wants to read and she wants to dance. And she wants—

No. No. So they tuck their feet up on the couch and pile on the blankets and Emerie makes her hot chocolate just the way Nesta likes it and the next few hours are pages whispering as they are turned, steam rising from half-empty mugs, snow curling down outside the window.

***

It had ended just how it had started: cold wind whipping off the Sidra to slice their cheeks wide open. The first time, it made their mouths split into smiles; the last, into trebuchets of hurt. Neither of them is good at pulling punches. His coat was on her shoulders. He said something, then she, and it was suddenly a vile thing on her skin; she ripped it away and threw it down onto the rain-soaked cobblestones. She didn’t throw it over the bridge, into the river, because that would have been irreversible, but now, now, she wishes she had.

That was September, the last long day before time jumped back and the evenings stopped clinging to the sun.

You’re fucking mine, Nesta.

I’m fucking gone.

She doesn’t think about it. She ruined everything, and it didn’t matter, and she doesn’t think about it.

***

Anyways, she’s good at being fine. She’s twenty-four now and she’s going to be fine forever, starting now. Gwyn has a carefully curated getting-ready playlist blasting from her speaker as she curls her hair. Emerie bites her lip as she draws eyeliner across her lid. Nesta sips from a wine bottle as she stares at her jewelry box: there are the little pearl-drop earrings he gave her when they went to Adriata for a weekend in August. I know you already have a favorite pair of earrings, but I thought these could be nice for the Patron’s Gala, maybe. If you like them.

Nesta fishes them out of the drawer and puts them in. She looks at herself in the mirror until her eyes turn red, and then she drops them back in the jewelry box, and stabs large silver hoops through her ears instead.

She turns off the light in her room and goes to the kitchen. Carefully, she pours the rest of the bottle of wine into a plastic Mountain Dew bottle, sucking the spilled drops from her fingers like it’s precious, and not a fourteen-dollar bottle. She plucks her coat off the hook and her keys from the dish by the door.

The three of them are laughing and chattering as they leave the apartment; Gwyn threatens to buy her a birthday girl sash, Emerie says, I think it’s too late for that, Gwyn says, The party store on East 12th is open until 11, I checked. Nesta says, I will strangle you with your own sash if you even think about it. They only laugh at her threat, and she can’t keep her face from smiling, and it doesn’t even bother her when the snow at the curb smears over her boots. She’s untouched. She’s new. She’s only started learning how to live.

***

It doesn’t really matter how it ended. There one minute and gone the next. He was there and gone, there and gone, like seasons, like purity, like the flash of a camera imprinted on the back of your retinas, there, and there, and there, and gone.

So he’s gone. And good riddance.

She used to like to hold his hand. Liked the strong, slim bones of his fingers, the veins that crawled up the back of his hand; liked running her fingers over the scar on the knuckle of his ring finger. He had a freckle on the inside of his left wrist, too, one she liked to press her lips to. I love you so, she would whisper. I’ll eat you whole.

Devour me, he used to urge her. Devour me, Nesta.

I love you so.

Devour me.

***

They step inside the club and check in their coats and the music is so heavy she can feel it pressing right through her muscles and into her bones. She tips her head back. Her spine is one long bass note. Yes, yes, yes.

Bodies shift around her, swaying like stalks of kelp in a western current, and she, an otter twisting among them as she dances. Sleek and warm and with only one wild and carnal drive: hunger.

She wants to devour this scene. The red lights. The upward-reaching limbs. The abandon. The singing mouths, the smell of vodka, the smell of perfume and cologne that surges when pressed too closely among the others.

“11:11,” says Gwyn, not long after they arrive. “Make a wish.”

You already know what she wishes for.

Emerie hands her a shot instead of a birthday candle. It sears her throat and then lights her aflame and she throws herself back into dancing and dancing and oh, when she tilts her head back like this, baring her throat, she feels knifelike and untouchable and violent, like she could strangle the whole world in her fists.

She imagines it. Sinking her teeth in. Getting the snow banks messy. Starting everything over so she doesn’t have to make so many mistakes this time. Sometimes, when Nesta buys a new book, she’ll bring it on the train and accidentally bend a corner when she goes to shove it in her bag in her haste to get off at her stop. Later, she’ll look at the crease, run her finger over it as if she can smooth it away, and fight the urge to buy a whole new copy—one she hasn’t irrevocably marred. She never does buy a new one; she knows, on some level, that it’s ridiculous to even consider it.

No creases this year, she reminds herself. She’s drunk now. Half of her blood is vodka. The music goes even louder, like a reminder or a threat. Emerie is grinding up against a striking blonde girl now; Gwyn is making eyes at someone across the room, sweeping her hair off her collarbones like a challenge; Nesta feels a drop of sweat run down her temples and sucks more swollen air into her lungs, her body greedy for it in the club’s heat.

All the lights go gas-flame blue, and that’s when she sees him.

***

So it ended. Fine. But it had started once, too.

Nesta had been in ballet as a child—no surprise, considering her family: upper class in a pearl-necklaces-and-endive-salads way. Everything was satin slippers and hair slicked back too tightly into unforgiving buns, until her mother died when she was fifteen and her father didn’t care enough to make her continue taking classes. It left her with a lithe body, a hatred of the Nutcracker, and a severe case of perfectionism.

Her favorite show to dance had been Sleeping Beauty, so last winter, when she heard the Velaris Ballet was showing it, she went to see it twice. Once, with Gwyn and Emerie, and again with Elain, except Elain canceled last-minute and Nesta thought about canceling both their tickets and staying home, but didn’t.

So, of course. He picked up Elain’s ticket.

During the show, she could drink up the colorful dresses, the masterful dancing, the beautiful shapes the dancers’ bodies made as they moved gently across the stage. When intermission came, she had no such distraction. There was only the stranger sitting next to her in his night-black suit, and of course he was devastatingly beautiful, how could she not notice? Admiring him was inexorable.

She caught him admiring her right back—those dark blue eyes making a steady, unapologetic map of her face.

It happened in textbook steps, alarming in its simplicity, really: He introduced himself. They talked throughout the rest of intermission. At some point during the third act, his knee made its way to press against hers, and he didn’t pull it away, and she didn’t pull away, either. When the lights flooded back on, the spell broke, or maybe it was cast?, and he asked her if she’d like to see the Balanchine performance with him the following week, and she wrote her number on the back of his hand with a sharpie she’d found in her purse. He had beautiful hands, like a piano player, and she asked if he played, and he said Tchaikovsky was his favorite to play, it was why he liked coming to the ballet.

Several weeks later, she would lie with her head in his lap, those nimble fingers combing through her hair, and ask, Play for me?, and he would, and it would become her favorite sound. And after that, she would sometimes sit on the edge of the bench, or kneel beside it, or stand behind him as he played, and close her eyes and imagine herself moving to the sound. Pas de bourré, pirouette.

But not yet. That would come later.

***

She sees him and the world keeps moving, even though she feels like it shouldn’t. She sees him and the world doesn’t end. It should. It doesn’t.

A current of blue bodies around her. He swims right through them. She doesn’t look at Gwyn or Emerie when he reaches her because she doesn’t have to see their faces to know their reproach.

She’s been locked into those stunning eyes since she first caught them; in this blue light, they are so, so dark, like midnight, and just as devastating. And they devastate her, they do.

Nesta thinks, You can’t unruin this. She thinks it so loudly that there’s no way he doesn’t hear it. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. He just looks at her, and she just looks at him, and, light with drink, she sways with the other kelp, sways right into him.

She can smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s holding a drink—a gin and tonic. He always liked gin. Elderflower gin, something that sounded fairy-like and ancient, something that smelled divine and didn’t hurt going down. She takes the cup from his hand and downs half. It’s cheap; burns like hell. He takes it back. Holds her stare as he drinks down the rest and drops the cup on the nearest flat surface.

He’s already drunk; she can tell because his face is a little too devastated when he looks at her.

His hands on her waist. Her waist in his hands. His hips pressed to her stomach. Her stomach burning gas-flame blue.

Nesta, he mouths. His eyes drop to her lips. His forehead drops to touch her own, as if he could press a feeling straight from his mind into hers.

Don’t, she says. Or maybe she thinks it.

He kisses her.

She kisses him back.

It’s inevitable, after that.

Gwyn and Emerie don’t even bother to stop her. They know better. He leads her downstairs, to the front of the club. She collects her coat. She follows him out onto the snow-driven street. A fresh coat has fallen since she and her friends went inside those few hours ago. It makes her think of new slates and starting over.

It makes her think of the way her boots crush the powdery snowflakes to grey slush.

You can’t unruin this.

He lives close—close enough that they can’t justify anything other than walking. She doesn’t look over at him and he doesn’t take her hand as they walk, and it’s almost as if they’re colleagues, with this space between them. Space enough for her ghosting breaths to dissipate entirely before they could ever reach his face.

And then—the bridge. The quay. Inevitable, she knew it, knew they’d have to cross the slushy Sidra, but. But.

She can feel him looking at her.

They reach the middle of the bridge, and she can’t keep going anymore. She’s shaking, knees knocking together embarrassingly, like a child. Nesta stops and she turns and she looks at the snow on the bridge and hates it for how serene it seems.

“I missed you, Nesta,” he says.

Past tense. He doesn’t anymore. He has her now, is what he means. He won't let go again, not like last time.

“Are you cold?” he asks. “Do you want my coat?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head, still looking down at the snow. His shoes scuff the snow as he steps closer. He takes her in his arms and he is just as warm and comforting and safe as he ever was, and it makes her want to cry, but she doesn’t. She does let him hold her. Even though it makes everything worse.

Rhys tilts up her chin and she keeps her eyes closed. He kisses her, so gently at first that she shudders, and then her mouth opens to him like a rose, and she presses harder into him, and he isn’t gentle anymore.

Her lips, cracked from the cold, split and bleed when he bites into them, and their kisses change to copper.

***

Nesta threw up before their first date. She stood in front of her mirror, trying to like the grey dress she was wearing, but she started thinking that maybe a dress was too much, and then she envisioned herself sitting stiffly next to the man—Rhysand—for the whole two and a half hours, not looking at him, and the thought—the thought of the awkwardness made her physically ill. He wouldn’t like her anymore, and then she would never be able to go to the ballet again, and and and—

She threw up neatly into the toilet, flushed it, brushed her teeth, and left.

By the time she was walking up the steps to the theater, she was trembling like a fawn, but she needn’t have worried. He was charming—his hand holding the door for her, his hand steering her respectfully from the small of her back, his hand alighting on her knee during intermission and lingering there, light and steady, until the lights began to dim again and he pulled it away.

The second half of the performance, she watched him. The way his breath caught at the crescendo of a number. The way his fingers tapped on his thighs in time with the notes. The way the bare light that reached them from the stage cast a glowing outline around the beautiful parts of his face, which seemed to be all of them.

The ballet ended, and he invited her to get a late-night coffee; he knew a cafe, one run by real Italians, so she should know it was good. By midnight, she’d made him laugh so hard he’d choked on a sip of his cappuccino, and he had made her feel coltish and new and brilliant, and finally, entirely at ease.

He was always very good with prey.

***

Nesta isn’t prey. She has a mouth full of teeth and she uses them. He’d do well to remember that, for fuck’s sake.

She bites down too hard and Rhys makes a noise in his throat. She pushes him away and they stand there, panting, staring at each other.

“Nesta,” he says.

They stand on the bridge. The snow numbs sound, numbs hurt, numbs everything.

“Come home with me, Nesta,” he says.

She goes home with him.

***

He loved her too hard. Maybe that was the problem.

Rhys wasn’t clingy, desperate—nothing so plebian as that. It was more authoritative. More intense, like a bruise. He always, always wanted her. Sex, of course, but more than that.

When it was sex, it was hungry. It was always too much, and it was never enough. It hurt every time, but it was never painful. There was sweat and tangled hair and open mouths and tenderness, always, and gentleness, only sometimes, only after. His hands were always tight around some part of her flesh, as if he were afraid she’d disappear the moment he let go, as if he could have more of her if he held more tightly.

She could never stop herself from sinking her teeth in, anyways. His shoulder, his neck, his arms, his side. She’d never made a habit of it before. It was something primal only he could bring out in her.

When it wasn’t sex, it was a different kind of want. Uncontainable, devastating. He wanted her like it hurt him. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if he liked her. He just wanted her.

One hot day that summer: billowing, gauzy curtains, Nesta in those lavender sleep shorts he liked so much, the hair around Rhys’s temples curling with sweat. Still, he held her close against him as they lay on the couch, her stomach to his stomach, her chest to his chest, her chin tucked against his shoulder.

Nesta asked, “Why did you ask me out that day at the ballet?”

His arm banded around her more tightly. He said, “I liked the way you watched them. Hungrily. I wanted to make you look at me like that.”

***

They step inside Rhys’s townhouse and the familiar smell hits her like a truck. It’s just the smell of a home—a home he’s lived in. Recently, without her. She wonders if his coffee machine still refuses to work unless he thumps the side of it as it gets going. She wonders if he ever got around to replacing the batteries in his TV remote. She wonders how many other women he’s brought here since everything ended. Maybe he fucks them in their own houses. Maybe he brings them here, has them on the couch, pushes the dove-grey pillows to the floor to make room for their bodies. She can’t imagine him fucking them in his bed, or she’ll throw up right here on his doormat.

The door clicks behind her, shutting out the cold. The air inside is warm and still, waiting for something. His hand touches her waist, moves her until her back is against the wall, and she thinks this is it, this is the part where he kisses her and takes her apart—but not yet.

Rhys kneels on the floor, takes her calf in his hands and slips off her boots, one by one, setting her feet down gently as if she were a child, or a queen. Something precious and vulnerable.

His soft fingers, piano-player’s fingers, trail up her body as he rises, hitching her dress up with them. She knows how this ends and it hurts. He kisses her wet cheekbones, one and the other.

“Nesta,” he says. He kisses her lips and she tastes salt.

She sinks her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulls him closer.

Their kisses get harder, serious. She hitches her leg around his hips, presses into him—his beautiful fingers are everywhere. They tangle in her hair and pull her head back so he can better lick her throat. They count her ribs, looking for a way in. They move over her hips, down, cleverly stroking the wet seam of her underwear, starting out gentle, just how he knows she likes it.

She reaches for his belt. She wonders, where will he have her? Will he bring her to the couch? Will he have her right here, against the wall? Will he take her back to his bed, or would that mean to much?

Rhys shudders into her touch, eyes rolling back. His mouth is saying things like Fuck, Nesta, I missed you, yes, harder, more, Nesta, Nesta, Nesta—

He chokes on his own breaths and pulls her hands away. With a few tugs, her dress is over her head, and he sinks to his knees again. She looks off to the side, towards the door, not wanting to face the way he looks up at her. Devotion poisoned by possession. His hands are hot on the backs of her thighs.

“Look at me, Nesta,” he orders. He pulls her underwear away—embarrassingly wet. The expression that flits across his face then—it’s a bit too relieved to be a smirk, but close.

She puts her hands into the silky onyx strands before her.

“Eat, then,” she says, unkindly.

He does. Like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Like he’s afraid she’ll stop him, take it away from him. She wishes she would, but she doesn’t. She’s too weak to give up something this good. Something that feels so inevitable—what’s the use?

Nesta comes right there, silently, except for one gasping breath that she immediately stifles. It’s horrible, it’s so, so horrible, how badly she misses him in that moment. It hits her, a pain so sharp she nearly flinches. It��s so horrible. So obvious, how he’s ruined her.

A tug on the backs of her knees, and her body falls obediently to straddle him where he kneels on the floor, her lips coming to meet his, hungrily taking the taste of herself from his tongue. He pulls her back, back, until he’s lying flat on the floor of the hallway, and she’s sitting over him, fumbling to yank off his shirt, to shove down his pants. Her body remembers how to move with him, remembers the steps to this. It remembers, even if her mind feels heavy and watered-down.

There is a bright spark of pain as she sinks down onto him. Rhys looks up at her from the floor. His eyes glint like a country sky at night, his sin-dark hair splays across the floor like a sunburst, his mouth parts like submission.

Nesta takes his throat in her hands and squeezes. “I hate you,” she tells him, and he lets her. Her knees press into the hardwood. He jerks his hips up with a groan. She says, “I hate you, Rhys.”

She feels a tightness in her throat that means tears. She won’t cry. She lets go of his neck and bites into her palm to hold them at bay. She won’t cry, she won’t cry. Her fingerprints fade whitely from his skin.

Rhys flips them over and settles his body over hers, between her knees. He fits in her body like he’s made for her. Her head fits just so in the space between his neck and his shoulder. She breathes him in through her nose, out through her mouth, as he begins to fuck her. He had always smelled so good, like something she shouldn’t eat. Sweet and rich, with some kind of spicy undertone, like pepper or ginger. Achingly sweet with a stinger.

Rhys takes her hand away from her mouth and pulls her wrists over her head.

“You love me, Nesta, you love me so,” he says. He threads his fingers in between hers. “You love me so.”

***

Nesta closes her eyes as he washes her hair in the shower.

“Nesta,” he says, smoothing soap away from her brow. “Stay.”

She tilts her head up, but doesn’t open her eyes. “You keep saying my name,” she says.

She can feel the sigh come out of his chest. He says, “I’m afraid I’ll forget how it sounds.”

In spite of her will, her body begins to tremble. Anger and fear and rage and desperation all well up at once, and her eyes fly open, lashes dripping under the stream of the shower, and she means to say a hundred things—a hundred accusations and castigations—but only a single word comes out, choked in steam. “Please.”

His face changes into a shape she doesn’t know well. “Nesta,” he breathes, pulling her body into his.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, she thinks. But she lets him towel her dry and brush out her hair and braid it down her back with his nimble fingers, the way she taught him, once. He pulls one of his t-shirts over her head—her favorite one, god, she hates that she has a favorite—and tucks her close to him under the covers. His sheets smell like his detergent and him, and it’s miserable, knowing he’s letting her go after this, even though that’s what she wanted in the first place. Catch and release. You can’t uncrease a paperback cover. You can only buy a whole new book.

God. Twenty-four hours as a twenty-four year old and she’s already fucked everything up. She’s already let him ruin her.

They lie there in his bed in his sheets in his townhouse on the river. She’s still drunk. She’s still here. His heart is still beating just a few ribs away from hers. She counts those beats, those bloodier sheep. One-one. One-one. One-one. One-one.

She’s not entirely sure if she’s dreaming when he says it. She hopes she is. She wishes so badly that she is.

I won’t go, he promises into the dark, into the sweet warmth. Just eat me whole.

***

Snow falls overnight.

In the morning, when Nesta looks out Rhys’s window, her eyes hurt to touch anything at all, it’s so bright.

He is behind her, suddenly. His arms come around her, his chest pressing to her back. He fits. It is suddenly, terrifyingly, as if she never left.

“Nesta,” he says, one last time.

She turns in his arms, fitting herself into the crooks of his body. She is real, she is new, she is blinding like the pure fallen snow.

Nesta makes a decision.

“Rhys,” she answers, speaking against his heartbeat.

When she smiles up at him, secretive and small, her ribcage opens up and curls around him like the legs of a spider.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #nesta x rhysand #rhysta #rhysta fic #can we all be normal about rhysta today? pls and thx #sjmromanceweek2024 #sjmromanceweek

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bories · 9 months

Text

masterlist ⋆｡˚☆

can you guys tell i love werewolves?

quick background info: i like to imagine reader as charlie's "adopted shortly after bella left him" kid. so she's close w bella but also kinda lagging behind when it comes to hearing about whats going on around her. this also takes place in eclipse <3

!!! i took some inspiration from @the-wolf-moon-diaries' Hold a Light Back to My Soul and the idea from @lunajay33's My Beast and i highly recommend their stories!

i definitely gotta write a pt 2 where we meet up again, don't i? damn

weird dog ... seth clearwater x reader

word count: 1512, warnings: swearing, running away, giant wolf?? a tad boring

Some days can be rough as hell around here, and dealing with them can be just as hard. There's not much to do in Forks, besides drive down to La Push, or wander in and out of the small stores around town, or even wander the hiking trails. But regardless, you need out, you gotta go.

Everything keeps piling up, looming over you, and it's all about to come crashing down. You're sick of hearing about some vampire army, and Bella's stupid love triangle, and now even werewolves--so you decide to leave. Slipping into some boots, you run out the door, barely caring if you make noise.

Not sure of where to go, you just pick a direction and run. You break out into a sprint until you get stomach cramps.

Slowing down, you walk and catch your breath as you reach the entrance to a hiking trail. It's far too late into the night for anyone to be out there unless they're camping, and even then they'd be holed up in their tents for the night. Regardless, though, you deviate from the path and just wander through the trees, not wanting to run into anyone.

Never slowing down, you begin to think about your safety in the forest so late.

It'll be fine, you tell yourself, Besides, if I get lost, someone'll just come find me like they found Bella that one time. With vampires and werewolves, it can't be that hard.

You roll your eyes at the thought of both species of weird being unable to track you down.

Your stomach stops hurting and you keep strolling through the forest, dodging trees and hopping off any big rocks you find. Taking in the forest around you, you start to wonder how long you've been gone.

No more than, like, half an hour. Maybe 45. D'you think Dad has noticed yet? you ask yourself. Definitely not.

After a few more minutes worth of walking and avoiding thinking too much, you stop in a little clearing. It's less of a clearing and more like trees getting a little more sparse, but you don't mind.

You sit on a rock and look up. The trees here are far apart enough to get a small, but clear shot of the sky.

"Nice," you smile. And for a few minutes, all you do is stare at the stars in silence.

Your eyelids start to feel heavy as your body really relaxes. You slide off the rock so you're sitting on the ground, leaned against it, still looking up.

I mean, this isn't the most uncomfortable pillow I've used. And I don't think I'd make it home anyways, you think, justifying sleeping against that rock to yourself. I'll go back in the morning if no one finds me by then. Sounds like a solid plan.

You yawn and close your eyes while turning onto your side against the rock. The quiet sounds of the forest lull you to sleep as your mind wanders. It wanders from the Cullens, to La Push, to how you miss the beach, to how you might go there next time you want to run away for a night, to how you'd even get there alone.

Being nearly asleep, you don't pick up on the fact that the forest is suddenly void of sound. Any animals around you have left, the leaves having stopped rustling, even the wind no longer blowing. But it's not until you hear the crunching of twigs behind you that your eyes shoot open, wide and aware. You hear panting, slow and steady, and you don't dare move.

Shit, is it a bear? 'If it's black, fight back,' right? We only have black bears around here. God, should I get up? Playing dead only works on brown bears--shit. Mind racing, your eyes squeeze shut until you come to a decision.

You abruptly stumble to your feet and start screaming, trying to scare away whatever's behind you, until you actually turn around. Your scream shifts from "trying-to-assert-dominance" to "trying-not-to-die-tonight" as you register what's found you. Not a black bear, but a brown wolf. A huge brown wolf. It even pulls away from you, startled by your screaming.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" You stagger backwards and trip over a small rock, falling on your ass. You curse to yourself and look back up at the beast. It watches you, and for a moment, you two just stare at one another.

Your eyes are full of fear, mouth open, ready to scream, chest rising and falling with every uncertain breath. The wolf huffs and its head dips down towards you as it sniffs you. In response, you weakly try to shuffle backwards, unsure of what to do. It lets out another huff, backing away, never breaking eye contact.

To your surprise, it sits. It sits there and just looks at you.

You take a deep breath in and out and try to calm yourself. "Hoo... Okay," you're cautious to speak, afraid of what might happen. "Hey there, uh, buddy?"

It doesn't move. "You, uh--you won't hurt me, huh? Right?"

It huffs. "Great. Very trustworthy."

Standing up slowly, you're wary of the wolf still watching your every move. You relax as the wolf seems uninterested in attacking you.

You sigh, "Now what? One wrong move and I might as well scream for the Cullens to come bite me."

You start talking to yourself, "This is what you get for being stupid. 'Oh, it's just the big bad trees. What's the worst that could happen?' I said. Yeah, right. Idiot."

The wolf's head cocks to the side as you scold yourself.

"And you," you gesture towards the wolf, "what're you gonna do? God, what am I doing? Threatening a giant wolf? I really am a genius."

You stop rambling and take a breath. "Okay. This is fine."

Your shoulders finally slump as you take in the wolf. It's as tall as the average human, taller even, with brown fur that looks darker at night. It's eyes are brown and captivating, almost unnaturally humanlike. Regardless, you can't help but find it beautiful.

"You're not that scary, are you?" You flash it a weak smile, "I bet you're just like a big puppy. You're so big that if you were red I'd call you Clifford," you laugh.

Taking slow steps towards the wolf, you raise your hand as non-threateningly as you can. "Can I pet you?" It watches you with curiosity.

"That's kind of a dumb question, isn't it? You can't really," your hand is inches from its head, "...respond." It leans into your touch as you begin softly stroking its fur.

"See," you chuckle, "you're not so mean."

It huffs and lies down. "What, you're tired? I bet you had a long day of scaring campers, didn't you?" You sit down beside the wolf, "I'm tired, too, you know? You actually kind of woke me up."

It watches you blankly. "I accept your apology, don't worry."

With a yawn, you start petting its fur again. "Pretty soft for a wild wolf," you mutter.

Your eyes start feeling heavy again and you lean against the wolf. "You don't mind, right?" Your words come out slowly, tired.

A huff in response. "Great, thanks. You're a much better pillow than that rock was," you trail off and close your eyes.

As your body relaxes against the wolf, the pace of your breathing matches the wolf's, and your mind starts to wander again. Wandering from how warm the wolf is, to the sun, to how you used to stare at the sun as a kid, to how you miss sunbathing on the beach, to planning your next day at the beach.

You barely mutter a "G'night," and drift off to sleep.

Throughout the night, the wolf watches over you as you sleep curled up with it. At sunrise, it stands, leaving you lying on the ground, and it begins to nudge you awake with its snout. You're startled awake by the wolf in your face and sit up, finding your bearings.

"Oh," you say, rubbing your eyes. "Right, good morning, I guess." The wolf pants at you, mouth open. "God, I really spent the night out here... Shit--has dad noticed?"

The wolf watches as you stand up and look around, looking for the direction you came in. Once you recognize the way home, you turn to say goodbye to the wolf. It stares at you, tall and unmoving.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm about to be in huge trouble."

Its tongue licks its nose. You smile with a sigh and shake your head, "I'll miss you, too. Don't scare too many people while I'm gone, alright?"

It bows its head as you pet it goodbye. "I'll find you again. I'll come back, tonight or tomorrow. And you better be here."

You turn and begin walking away, thinking to yourself, Weirdest dog I've ever met.

You look back once and it's gone. As silently as it had snuck up on you the previous night, it had gone.

#i love me a good wolf boy<3 #seth clearwater #seth x reader #seth clearwater x reader #x reader #twilight #twilight new moon #werewolves #werewolf #im too lazy to add more tags

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xsapphirescrollsx · 10 months

Text

Celestials

Written: Nov 10, 2020

dark!Walter Marshall/Arch Angel Gabriel x Black Female Reader

Rebloging supports writers!

He leaned against the car, crossed an ankle over the other and stared down at the bated breaths of the mortally wounded man not too far away. His spirit seeps away like his blood upon the pavement. From holes too deep to heal it pours out and pools underneath his back, under his arm, down to his fingers.

“Please help me…” the man whispered to the air.

The being observing the mortal coil looked up to the sky momentarily wondering if the man indeed would be heard. But his eyes fell back to the man, who’s blank stare lingered long after his heart stopped beating.

“You are loved above all things.” said the being.

He unfolded his big black feathered wings and pressed the palms of his hands into the roof of the car. Leaning back further, studying death, in all its glory as he did so many times before. He wondered, with sadness, that one day you would look like this too, again.

“It is now my time.”

“You’re time for what?” asked Walter, who had appeared as nothing more than a whisper of a body.

The being turned his head to the left where Walter stood. The being pointed at the ground, while Walter’s eyes landed on his own body.

“No.” Walter took a step toward his lifeless shell. “I--no..save me!” he shouted and turned back toward the winged being.

“That isn’t my area.” said the being and stood up straight from the car. “Looks pretty permanent.”

Walter shook his head, something akin to tears pooled in his eyes, but they didn’t shed, only made what should be his eyes glisten.

“However…” said the being. “There are a few loop holes..if one were to be asked for service.”

“What is it?” Walter asked quickly, he looked back at his body and thought anything, anything would be better than this. He had so much more to do.

“Is that a yes?” asked the being.

“A yes to what?”

The being crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Walter. “It’s an open yes, take it or die.”

Life as Walter knew it was upside down. What was left of him lay on the ground rotting as he thought about the being’s request.

“I’ll do it.” said Walter finally. He stared back at the being taken in the smudge of a face that had no identifiable features. “Yes.”

Human brains are hard to navigate at the best of times. Their free will makes it inherent that they do what they please. It was a hard mold to fit into but the being tried. Memories unfolded, along with the sensations that having a human body entailed. But they, who this being was beyond the world, wasn't too different in regards to a human soul.

Where their spirits were immense, so was his and it took time to press and squeeze this eternal energy into a place so small. But the being liked it here, encased for once, his focus centered on what it meant to be human and live as they do. After a few weeks comatose Walter awoke one evening after shift change.

Suddenly taken in by the hospital gossip, the nurses stayed longer in the break room than they normally would have. A trick of the mind, while their spirits are strong, their thoughts are narrow and susceptible to the slightest change.

Walter groaned as he sat up in the bed and swung his legs over the edge. He wondered how the others above thought of him now. They were probably watching, not that he could see them with human eyes. But he could definitely sense something elsewhere, silently observing just as he had done not too long ago.

He stretched hard, opening his arms, unfurled his wings and yawned like had slept the last thousand years. A tingle in his fingertips coursed up his arms, down his chest and settled in his groin. The hospital gown rubbed against his cock, it hardened more and Walter couldn’t help the chuckle that followed as he stared down at it.

He had certainly missed that.

The man in the next bed gasped. Walter ignored it as he flipped through memories like a book and found his heart rushing when the images landed on the pretty face from the coffee shop. No, she was more than that to Walter. In fact, you were more to the being too.

Walter glanced around the room at the bouquets of flowers dotted with little white cards. Too bad you never realized the impact of your life, he thought. He got off the bed, his ass hanging out of the back of the gown and strode toward the wardrobe. He rummaged through the clothes, found a few things that looked good enough. He put it on and grabbed the long trench that belonged to the man in the next bed.

He opened the window to the sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. And before they stepped over the threshold. Walter turned to the man in the bed who was staring at him with wide open eyes. He jumped up on the edge, smiled as he held the side of the tall window.

“You’ll be okay for another year,” said Walter. “But you might want to stop jerking off so much--not sure that ticker can handle much more.”

The nurses' voices made the man turn to them to get their attention. He pointed to the window, but when he looked back, the man was gone.

You had just finished counting the money, putting away product for the next day as Walter watched you from across the street. In your well worn apron you walked across the shop to grab your stuff from the counter. Key in hand, you stepped out into the cold and locked the door behind you.

Beautiful girl, thought Walter. Even with the tired look in your eyes, the sag in your shoulders from a day's work, he could see why Walter wanted you. But what made him want you was nothing short of yearning. And being an angel, yearning was just as immortal as their lifespan. He knew your soul, had seen it over and over again throughout the ages. And what a wonderful surprise for him that Walter had led him to you.

“Don’t,” said a voice from his side. Walter turned his head, the ghostly frame of the body he inhabited appeared. “Don’t hurt her.”

Walter chuckled and continued to follow you with his eyes down the street until you disappeared around the corner. “You and I want the same things Walter.”

“You just want to use her.” said Walter’s spirit.

“Ever since she stepped down I’ve always searched for her,” said Walter.

“She’s like you?” he asked.

“At one time, yes.” said Walter. “Centuries ago of course. She’s died thousands of times by now. You would think she would tire of mortality.”

Walter began to walk, across the street, down the same path, trailing behind her once she came back into view again. “From time to time I’ve found her. I like to spend what little opportunity I have with her. You understand?” asked Walter.

Walter’s spirit strode behind his now winged body. Not affected by the cold, the snowy gust blew through him. He was quiet for a few seconds as the angel continued to speak.

“I won’t hurt her, it’ll be your body after all.”

It sounded too much like a threat to Walter, he tried to grab for his own shoulder but his hand passed right through. “Wait!” Walter’s spirit shouted, but he kept walking.

“Trust me, after this---she will be yours until the end of your days...well again.” Walter laughed.

The being wanted a piece of you. He sniffed the air and found your scent unchanged even after centuries. He wished he could take you back with him. The human heart in his chest pounded hard against his ribcage and inspired him to pace back his heavy breathing. He had to be quiet.

Walter stepped down out of your window. The sound of the shower beyond the cracked bathroom door became the only invite he ever needed to be near you. Walter tossed the jacket on the floor and began shedding his clothes a piece at a time. A child of God waited for him, whether she knew it or not, was about to face the almighty carnal desires of an under sexed angel.

Walter’s spirit appeared again through the front door. His voice bounded through the room,“This isn’t-”

“Hush,” commanded Walter and he did. “She’ll be yours after this. Open yourself Walter, feel what I feel.”

Walter’s translucent figure faltered where he stood. He grabbed at his chest and for a moment swore he could feel his own heart beating.

“Yeah, it’s easier to do when you’ve been newly parted.” said Walter, but his eyes were still staring at the shadows behind the door as the shower shut off. “So relax…” whispered Walter.

Walter rushed forward, wings flared open helping him move across the room at lightning speed right at you. He pinned you up against the wall next to the open bathroom door. Still damp, a towel draped down the front of your body was the only barrier between you and the man.

The way you fought like nothing would be the same again was adorable. The threats that crossed your lovely lips magical, it had been so long since he heard them anyway that he ignored the tears that followed.

He had to hold your head in his hands, it forced you to open your eyes and truly see the person before you.

“Walter?”

Confusion looked back at him.

“Close, but not quite.”

Your eyes moved from his face to the great feathered wings hovering behind him. He could tell as you watched them your mind was being blown wide open. As he moved, they moved, as he spoke they twitched with his meaning. “I’ve missed you.” said Walter.

He brought your hands up to his lips. Kissing them, licking sometimes too, tasting your clean skin he kept his eyes upon yours. “We only have this night…” he whispered.

“I heard you got shot. This isn’t real..” you squeezed your eyes tight, tried to pry your hands from his. “This is not real.” you whimpered and tried to move away.

Walter pulled you close, wrapped his big arms around your body even though your legs threatened to fold where you stood he dragged you along. The moments clung precariously on a few seconds before it collided with a series of shuffles. Walter plucked you from where you stood, threw you on the bed and covered your body with his.

You tried to piece together what was happening, how it could happen but it was your downfall. Walter pushed inside of you without so much as a warning. His wings bunched in tight along the length of his body as his hips began to move fast and hard. Electricity shot through your body the second his cock pulsed inside of you. Everything leading up to the last thirty minutes began to evaporate from your mind and be replaced with the bliss in this moment. Sliding in and out, pressing his heavy chest into you, he suffocated your entire being with his.

And when you squealed from the pleasure thumping throughout your body, Walter didn’t stop. He took it as an invitation of your heavenly spirit reaching out to his. Always amazing, always overly tender, the bodies of humans, the tip of his cock ached for release.

Your eyes lifted to his, matching his intensity, Walter’s hand grabbed your wrists when you tried to hold his face. It had been awhile, but he licked his lips, leaned down and kissed your lips. You clenched down tight around him, sucking him in further, pushing him over the edge. The moment he hit the crescendo, almost filled to the brim with such delicious ecstasy the being inside of Walter was ejected from his body.

The being stared at the bed, black wings began to shed and crumble at the same time Walter groaned hard. He hung his head over you, his shoulders swaying and he collapsed on top of you.

“You really shouldn’t meddle in their lives Gabriel.” said a feminine voice behind him.

Gabriel, the being, swung around toward the voice. The tall, plumpy figure stepped forward. “Barachiel!” shouted Gabriel.

“They chose to walk away for a reason. Your infatuation with her borders on unforgivable. And you promised to keep your distance when they both stepped away, remember?”

“What are you doing here?” asked Gabriel. He looked back at the bed. The feathers had disappeared, what was left were two naked bodies, one male the other female. “She..I--”

“She heartedly dislikes you. Has since..well the beginning of time. Learn how to lose gracefully Gabriel.” said Barachiel, she crooked an eyebrow at the scene. “Well, at the very least you have helped them find each other again. It’s been about--what, three thousand years?”

Gabriel fumed, as he began to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. “He said yes to an open request, Barachiel!”

Barachiel shrugged and kept staring after the figures on the bed.

“What happened?” you asked, your breaths came fast as Walter moved off you. He sat back on his folded legs and gazed back.

“I….” he tried to remember, to form any sort of logical theory as to why he was here, naked..with the cute woman from the coffee shop.

You grabbed for the nearest pillow, covered your body as you scooted away from Walter.

“Look at them Gabriel, even now their spirits recognize each other. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Walter’s eyes dropped to your hand on the bed, he reached for it and you didn’t pull away. “Can we just say this was a weird beginning?” he asked.

“So weird,” you almost chuckled if it weren’t true. “I just..I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Like, not just because of the shop either...”

Walter nodded, with his other hand ran it through the wild curls brushing his forehead. He pushed them back and then came to sit directly in front of you.

“Disgusting.” Gabriel hissed. “...but yes.” he added. He stopped pacing and conceded that this time the two of you had won.

Walter caressed your cheek before kissing you tenderly on the lips. He pulled back, it seemed so obvious that all of this was strange, that the rational part of him called for caution. But while you were here, staring back at him, he felt the panic of loss before it gently subsided.

“I never want to know a day again without you in it.” said Walter.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Nothing worse than arch’s turned human.” he said.

#Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall x Black Female Reader #black female reader #x black reader #I block accounts who won't reblog and just like

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