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kkydult · 5 months

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— everything stays

childhood friend!anton x engaged!reader - fluff - 1.8k

a/n. it’s kinda inspired by the movie “past lives” but i haven’t seen it so yeah! hope yall like this there’s no cheating so dw it’s just cute and lovey dovey, i really enjoyed writing this look forward to the next ones 🫶

Late summers, end of August, pretty sunsets and sweet memories from your childhood in Korea came rushing through your mind. It was just like this on those days except you were running through the fields, the grass tickling your ankles as you threaded through. Behind you the boy you spent most of your summer with, he was chasing you trying to get back at you for eating the last piece of bread he had. You knew he would catch up to you soon enough, your legs giving out slowly after running around in circles trying to escape him. The grass became a mattress as you both fell giggling in between your heavy panting, you hoped every summer from then on would be filled with the joy you felt in that moment.

And as the years went by from primary school to high school it was just as you hope, he was there with you on weekends, weekdays, school breaks and it never died out the fun you had with him, just the thought of seeing him on early Monday morning felt like a gift. Perhaps you wished too hard, it was the summer before your freshman year in high school when the news broke that your dad got an opportunity working overseas and you had no other choice than to leave with your family. You wanted to be excited, you had always wanted to leave your small town but when you thought of Anton your heart wouldn't let you see the bright side of things. Telling him the news was the hardest part the words stayed stuck in your throat as you both sat on the playground swings you played on so much throughout the years together. The look he gave you when you struggled to explain the situation through soft sobs was one you could never forget, he just smiled holding your hand tight in his, like he understood and accepted it but you knew his habits. Him sitting by you patiently as you told him when you were leaving, trying to keep his cool for you but his foot bouncing on the ground showed everything he wasn't saying and even through that he found a way to reassure you, his words softer than ever, "It's just a matter of time, don't worry too much, I'll be in your future too"

You don't know how many times you thought about that moment on the swings, but it kept you hopeful and even after so many years you felt it could be true. It had been 8 years since you moved and you were finally back after all that time past, you had come to see your grandparents, over the years you had been too busy focused to school and adjusting to the new life you kept your mind off other things as much as you could but Anton was a recurring thought and as you sat in your childhood bedroom you couldn’t bare to stay still.

Asking your mami was no use, so you decided to take a walk to his house as you remembered it hoping nothing would have changed. When you left all you had was his house number and calling across the globe cost money that your parents preferred using to call your grandparents, you called a couple times in the first months but it felt pointless when you could barely hear each other. Times changed with the internet and you felt maybe that was the way but you couldn't find him through the data servers filled with Anton lees, you would have given up but you felt driven to see it to the end, till there was no more hope.

Standing in front of the gate reading the nameplate, you felt your heart racing as it was just as you remembered, did he even want to see you?

"Y/N" your head turns around in the same beat as your fragile heart, he was there, you didn't need confirmation you knew his face like it was your home, you felt your body move instinctively rushing into his arms without any other thoughts about the missing years, his arms wrapped around you perfectly letting all those years vanish into nothingness. You were back and you wanted to stay with him in his arms like this for the next 8 years.

"Anton Lee, my go-- are you real?" you pull back hands still wrapped around his biceps the smile on your face permanently stuck on, he chuckles shrugging his smile reflecting yours, eyes and lips alike. "Pinch me let's see" instead you fall back into his arms resting you head on his chest, his hand on the back of your head stroking you at ease, "I missed you... I--" before you can finish he lifts your chin up and for a second you thought he would kiss you as he stayed there watching your face in silence, "let's catch up over some food and drinks yeah?"

The place he brought you made you made more past thoughts reel in, when you'd pass by on hot summer nights biking together hearing all the laughter and joy being spread from outside envying all the adults that got to have fun like that, being here with him felt like a reward. He was so different from the last time but still so obviously the same old Anton. You watched him order the food and drinks admiring the boy you felt so fond of when you were so much younger, the way his body had changed -- swimming had made a huge impact -- the linen shirt he had on hanging loosely on him but the transparency showing a lot more, his hair was roughly styled but it fell perfectly on his face, you felt you could stare at him for hours till you finally look up at his eyes finding him looking at you with a soft smirk tilting his head to the side amused. "I know, I know, l’m the ideal type man you don't need to tell me so obviously" you force your embarrassment down rolling your eyes at his cockiness, "I like your outfit is all" he laughs pushing his hair out of his face shaking his head not buying your excuse, "Okay y/n thanks for liking my outfit"

The next couple hours flew by the more you sat in his presence the more you wanted to turn back time, if you knew it could have always been like this you would have tried harder to stay.

"I don't know if you knew but I had the biggest crush on you back then" he mumbles hiding behind his hand glancing at you quickly, you roll your eyes like it was the most improbable possibility when your feelings back then were exactly that, "I'm serious y/n, 8 years should be enough to bring a guy back to his senses but I don't know that I am" he scoffs taking a shot out of the soju glass he was filling up. The words took a while to hit you with all the alcohol in your system but once they did you felt embarrassed, you wanted to keep it from him as much as you could but you would be in the wrong, "Anton I'm engaged..."

"Since when? I see no ring, You can't lie your way out of this one y/nnie" he smiles watching you closely for your next move but you don't give him anything to work with and his face drops, filled with confusion, you try organizing your words before explaining the situation. You didn't even understand it yourself, you were dating the guy for a month and when he asked to marry you in public you felt obliged to agree, the more you thought about it less it seemed like a bad idea, you would have a stable household and you liked him enough to support him a few thirty years but you always envisioned yourself getting old with Anton. So you went see if there was still a chance but it happened all so quickly, you blurt it all out avoiding any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"Have you always been this careless? you can't just make bets on your future like that" he sighs looking at your hand, "he didn't even give you a ring y/n" his fingers slide between yours and his hand fit perfectly like that was where it was meant to be this whole time, he pulls away after a couple seconds looking at you straight in the eyes, "Call it off okay, I'll do it better" his tone was soft as usual but you knew he meant it just in the way his eyes glistened.

When you called your fiancé the next day you didn't expect him to make a big deal about it knowing he didn't like you as much as you liked him which wasn't enormously but he needed you because it was convenient. So him flying over to see you made you unsteady and when you saw him at his hotel room it got worse, but he couldn't force you into the agreement this time.

"Is this why you came here? To make a fool out of me?" he asked the moment you stepped in, he rarely got mad with you so the slight raise in his voice felt alarming. "Just find someone else, I can't be the one" you moan annoyed by his sudden caring toward you, he cusses at you "Can't you just suck it up?" you scoff walking towards the door before turning back to say your goodbyes, "You're not tying me down in any way, I could really have just gone my own way but here we are so just accept it and move on cause I'm leaving either way"

Leaving the hotel you let your legs lead you to wherever, completely worn out by the whole situation, when you realized where you ended up you felt it was fitting. You sat on your beloved swing letting the evening breeze flow through your hair, you shut your eyes letting it all soak in, for the first time in forever things felt like they were looking up for you. Opening your eyes you spot him walking over to you from a distance and the warmth in your heart enveloppes your whole body. He stood above you between your thighs, you lifted your head up to look up at him, "Can i kiss you now?" you just smiled giving him all the answers he needed as he leaned toward you the smiles on both your lips mixing into the kiss, his hand placed on your neck massaging softly and he let his lips take in yours so delicately like he didn't want to lose a single taste.

Almost like you never left everything stayed just as you left it, your love for each other faced the challenge of time and now you could enjoy it.

#via writes ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #kpop bg #5th gen kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #riizenet #riize fics #riize x reader #kpop #riize fluff #anton lee #anton x reader #riize anton #riize anton fluff #anton fluff #kpop scenarios #riize imagines #anton riize #kpopccc

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holy-puckslibrary · 4 months

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━ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — (soft)dark!QUINN HUGHES x gray!reader word count — 4k

note — i am so sorry for this (not really)

recommended viewing — sorority row (2009)

bingo squares and additional content warnings under the cut.

bingo squares —orgasm control, non-consensual voyeurism (+ pictures taken) and implied past mutual masturbation (dubcon — you’ll see) additional content warnings — dom!reader + subby-as-hell!quinn (ngl he’s kind of a pathetic loser here, but that’s why we love him), m!receiving oral (perhaps too much idk you tell me) + cum play x2, quinn rendered dumb and speechless by his raging humiliation kink and his need for degradation (and an itty bitty bit of praise — quinn: new kink unlocked), i have been plagued w ball play as of late so im subjecting yall to it, mention of edging and orgasm denial, oh and just some pheromone kink bits and a cute lil oral fixation moment or two, nothing to see here!

QUINN HUGHES WAS ENAMORED the moment he saw you.

Three rows from the front. Laptop cracked, but more for show than anything. All your glittery, coveted attention fixed on the cellphone resting in your palm while you tapped away, your lips loosely draped over the pen you were gnawing on.

You were positively mesmerizing.

He briefly contemplated sliding into one of the open seats beside yours, but a gaggle of your insipid "sisters" beat him to the punch.

As if he would’ve been able to capitalize on the golden opportunity anyway; it took half the semester for him to form a full, coherent sentence in your vicinity.

Ironically, Quinn was far more comfortable when you weren’t looking.

Or, rather, Quinn was more comfortable when you didn’t know he was looking.

He didn’t interact much with anyone outside of his coding cohort and the club team—athletic prowess only garners state-school clout when your sport is top dog, and this was a football school, through and through. As such, and at the hands of his tragic awkwardness, he rarely spoke to women, if ever.

And he never got face time with any as effortlessly beautiful and interesting as you.

Discovering that your large bedroom window faced the secluded side street he took to get home from practice each night felt like a sign. He’d struck gold, and it would be a shame not to put the knowledge to good use.

In his own shadowy domain, he could be whatever and whoever he wanted; he could be the guy who got the girl.

It was exhilarating, really.

Quinn supposed some of that rush should be attributed to the feeling of unbridled control his daily routine sorely and consistently lacked. He hardly, if ever, felt like an active participant in his own life.

But in the privacy of his own head—and the safety of the very curb he’s stood on now—there were no alpha douche-canoes to eat up your finite attention or loud airheads to crave your tutelage.

Between sundown and sun-up, you were his and his alone.

— Even if you were none the wiser.

As benevolent as you may appear, he knew you would never give a guy like him the time of day. Quinn was a lot of things, but stupid's never been one of them.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence if it weren’t for your shared smaller sessions on Thursday mornings. Just you and him… and ten other students, with the occasional appearance of your slacker TA—how romantic.

And if he couldn’t even get a moment alone with you, he definitely wouldn’t get a night inside of you, either.

So, he settles.

Quinn puts up with the bugs and tolerates the bushes, swallowing his pride (and his mortification), and takes what he can get.

He's accustomed to maneuvering in the dark—this stretch of pavement in particular—but he stumbles through the dimly lit street like he’s got two left feet that only grew in yesterday.

If you were privy to his impromptu audition for Bambi, you don’t mention it.

And if you clocked the obnoxious bulge tenting his jeans, you don’t acknowledge that, either.

Quinn isn’t entirely sure this is happening in his real, waking life; it’s far too good to be true.

This is not at all where he thought the night would go when your name flashed across the screen.

When he hesitantly clicked ‘accept’ and brought the phone to his ear, all while still palming himself to the memory of your head tossed back in ecstasy—the way it was before the lights went out abruptly —Quinn assumed he’d soon be gripping steel bars.

“H-How’d you get this number?” he asked after hearing his name.

You whispered it so ardently he could almost feel your breath on his cheek. It made him shiver and, momentarily, forget he’d likely been caught red-handed—literally.

“You made the group chat for our section, silly.”

Instinct compelled Quinn to chastise himself, but knowing you remembered that minute detail—a nothing of a fact, really—was enough to override the urge entirely.

And the complete lack of ire in your voice lured him into a false sense of security yet to be disproven.

He gulped and willed his hand to stop moving. “Oh, right. Uh, is there something you need? Did the outline for next week not go through? Because if not, I can just re-send it ri—”

“Meet me at the same door as last time,” you sliced through his rambling with a tone that was neither foreboding nor comforting.

Then, the line went dead.

For once, Quinn was grateful to be so eager to please. If not for that zeal, he couldn't have walked up to the service door of Delta Nu.

Risking the wrath of your underlings was never a goal of his, but considering how quickly they turned up their plastic noses at him when he came by to drop off notes from the class you missed, Quinn couldn’t imagine worse circumstances for Round Two.

When the backdoor swung in, you spoiled him in all your glory and the assurance of an empty house.

Out of pure exhaustion—and in his excitement to resume his ritual after a long week away—it slipped his mind; tonight is the best and biggest Kappa Tau rager.

Hence the ghost town

“Do you stand out there all night, stalker?”

Quinn’s head bobbed despite the apt insult. Then, he remembered you couldn’t see his reply, given that you were leading him up a staircase.

“M-Most nights, yeah.”

At that, you spun on your heel. Quinn shook like a leaf as you stepped forward. Gripping the railing, a hand on either side of his shrunken form, you invaded his personal space for the sole purpose of degrading him further.

The sneer hadn’t reached your eyes, but it speared him just the same. “God, you’re fucking pathetic.”

Quinn launched into an attempt at groveling, but his own verbal clumsiness rendered the effort futile.

However, his sputtered half-thoughts and litany of sentences that went nowhere were brought to a screeching halt by a single, manicured finger. Unable to process the touch and the wicked grin on your otherwise cherubic face concurrently, he froze.

His predicament worsened when you gently breached the tight seam of his lips to rest your interruption against his tongue.

You stepped closer; he saw stars. “I like that.”

It was at that moment Quinn realized you came straight down to the side-yard...because he could taste you. As you massaged his tongue with the pad of your finger, effectively rubbing your essence into his body, it took every ounce of strength to keep himself from busting right there in your foyer.

Still, he managed the mortification he sought to avoid.

“Are you… Are you humping me?” you barked with an incredulous snort.

Humiliation blurred his vision as you backed away from him; it wasn’t his fault your perfume elicited a Pavlovian bodily reaction.

You kept your finger in his mouth as you bit back genuine laughter, but that just made him harder.

“Y’know,” you hummed, contemplative. You paused to watch your pointer finger slowly thrust in and out of his needy mouth. Your smirk was noticeably wider when you spoke again. “My last boyfriend couldn’t even text me back—or remember that he was in a monogamous relationship.”

Quinn blinked. “Your last boyfriend?”

The question was garbled by your finger—and his own sucking. It didn’t matter, though. His reply wasn’t necessary.

At least, not yet.

“Mhmm, my last one.”

You repeated yourself as if you were speaking to a child and not to the grown man whose boner was digging into your skin.

It made him whimper. Your condescension was his kryptonite, apparently.

“But...I know my next one will be different; you’re too devoted to hurt me.”

He wasn’t given time to respond because as soon as you got your desired reaction—mewling akin to a bleating lamb and the whites of his eyes—you were dragging him up the remaining stairs and into the president’s suite.

Quinn’s spent countless hours wondering what your bedroom looked like, and even more fantasizing about what might happen if he ever saw it firsthand. His mouth splits after working up the nerve to compare the reality of your space to his mental notes, but before he can shove out any words, you’re backing him across the room with a devious glint in your eyes.

“W-What are you doing?” he asks when his back hits glass.

Right now, he’s pressed against his standing window into your most private moments. It feels wrong to be on this side of the wall.

Quinn gets none of the bubbly warmth he assumed he would if he ever found himself here. Instead, he feels unbelievably small as he drowns in a sea of poor choices.

“I think a little exhibitionism would be good for you, Hughes.”

"I-I don’t understand…”

You smile. His stupid heart flutters.

God, love’s fucking embarrassing.

Again, you crowd his space. This time, though, until there’s barely enough room between the window pane and your body for his wilted one. You press a single, fleeting kiss to his pulse point, your breath fanning over his clammy skin. His hitches in his throat.

“I want you to see things from my point of view.”

The words seep into his neck. Your intentions slam into him like a semi-truck going full speed. Anyone walking on the path—his path— would need only to venture a peek at your window to know exactly what was happening.

It would be too easy to watch him the way he’s watched you for weeks.

A taste of his own medicine.

The candy-coated threat shouldn’t have the effect that it does. Given how emotionally charged the air’s become—for him, at least—it makes sense for his body to get some wires crossed; the same sticky emotion causing him to wither in fear should not be making him harder than ever.

He isn’t expecting you to kiss him, so it takes Quinn’s mind a beat to catch up. Still, he melts into the affection like it's the only thing keeping him alive. Though, as soon as Quinn regains enough composure to actually participate, you kill the kiss as swiftly as you brought it to fruition.

He chases after your mouth, much to your amusement.

“What, sad there was no tongue?” you tease as if you weren't the one to ruined the moment.

Quinn doesn’t find you very funny right now.

“We’re going to play a little game.”

Your lips brush his as your hushed words march out, but he remains still. He knows better now than to ask questions prematurely. You hum in acknowledgment, satisfied.

Quinn beams. He's always been a quick study.

You take him by the wrist and guide him into the space you just vacated.

Physically, he knows he’s stronger. It wouldn’t take much to overpower you, but that means nothing in the face of your mental sway. Quinn can’t move because you don’t want him to—because you haven’t told him he can.

And any hope of gaining the upper hand crashes out onto the concrete the moment your bare knees hit the carpet.

Quinn knows he’s a dead man when your hands coast up his thighs.

“Put your hands on the window sill.” He does without hesitation. “Keep them there. You move, I stop. Understand?”

“Yes, I-I understand.”

“Good boy,” you say.

It’s more of a taunt than true praise, but his bulge twitches all the same before your eyes. The slight betrayal announces the internal chaos in the wake of the unexpected praise.

Quinn knew he liked that, but he didn’t want you to know it, too. What little control he managed to horde dissipates.

The delight on your face confirms the worst; you plan to do with that information what he hoped you wouldn’t. “God, I am going to have so much fun with you.”

It's an uphill battle, trying to keep his eyes open and his hands where they are supposed to be.

Quinn tastes nirvana when you finally flick the tip of your tongue over his cherry-red tip, the skin having adopted a luminous intensity courtesy of the few street lamps nearby. Glowing, after too much teasing.

Normally, he veered toward edging and denial JOI content, especially if the voice actor sounded anything like you. Tonight, he’s never hated a concept more. Still, he's making sure he behaves because he knows you’ll reward him handsomely.

You can be sweet when you want to be.

Like right now, for instance. You’re snuggling your face into his body, generously nuzzling his painfully stiff length with your cheeks. Whenever the friction mounts to anything substantial, you pull back to decorate his hips and inner thighs with little pecks.

They're reminiscent of the chaste parting kisses you’ve given his cheek in the past just to make him squirm.

You lap up what you can of the escaping arousal, hungrily drinking down all he has to offer. You do your best, you really do, but there’s just too much. The successor to each puddle arrives faster than you expect, and quicker than you can keep up with.

So, you stop trying.

You’re both so desperate, anyway.

Quinn bites back a scream when your dominant hand loops around the base of his cock; the cruel, beautiful beast only settling once the middle finger finally reaches the accompanying thumb. The pressure is light, but encompassing enough to make him dizzy.

So dizzy, in fact, that he actually appreciates your one rule.

However, nothing could have prepared him for what torture you enact next.

Blinking up at him, you rub the leaking tip over and between your lips. With one hand braced against his bare thigh and the other unchanged, you gently tug downward as you suckle the bulbous head.

The sensation is unlike anything Quinn has felt in his limited experience, which he wears like a scarlet letter. The little huffs that make him feel like a dog panting in mid-July remind him that while he's gotten a blowjob or two before, they were nothing like this one. They weren't from you. It might be unfair to lump those instances in with the magic of your mouth.

You can’t compete where you don’t compare.

So, Quinn showers you in soft, airy whispers. Even when you pull back until only the ridge preceding the tip rests past your spit-stained lips, he goes on and on about how good your mouth feels and how much he adores you.

And, if he were slightly more coherent, maybe he would’ve caught the obvious squeeze of your thighs at his flushed cheeks and the reciprocal effect your lazy teasing.

His hips go rogue when you try to swallow him a little deeper, jerking forward and sending the firm tip to the back of your throat. Naturally, you lose your grip and gag around him, your eyes watering more and more with each subsequent unintended impact.

Quinn is bashfully apologetic, but you’re quick to remove him from your mouth.

“Shouldn’t you already know I like to choke on it?” your raspy voice goads.

You shoot him a wink before hollowing your cheeks to accommodate his wide girth, your tongue flattened and pressed tautly to the underside.

The shallow movement triggers images he shouldn’t have, bright and flashing through his head: of you, on your knees like this for that jerk-off ex-boyfriend of yours—of you, from a distance and fuzzy, forever immortalized in a single film unit pinned to the back wall of his closet.

Quinn does know you like to choke on it. He knows you like to be choked, too.Quinn knows a lot of things about you—likes, dislikes, sleep patterns, study habits… sexual preferences.

Your bizarre reaction to his Peeping Tom antics makes him wonder what you might know about him…

He’s given no time to fall down that rabbit hole on account of your nose brushing his public bone once more. Quinn cannot fathom how his length disappeared down your throat so smoothly, and it's useless to try, given how thoroughly muddied his head’s become with your tongue gently petting the delicate skin of his sack.

With your lips stretched around the base—and your thumb tucked into your palm to subdue innate reflex—you begin massaging what you can. Until you realize quinn has absolutely zero volume control. As crazy as his loud and breathy moans make you, you’ve come too far only to get this far.

Viscous, glasslike threads hang between your withheld mouth and his anguished cock in the lower fringe of your vision. Above you, Quinn is struggling, whimpering like a lost puppy caught in a storm.

Lips parted ever-so-slightly, his forehead rests against the frame, limp. He's white-knuckling the historic, but recently refurbished wood, trembling in your barely-there hold because he’s that aroused. Mindlessly teetering on the border of “too much” and “not enough," all the while mumbling unintelligibly between choppy breaths.

You could get drunk on those pretty sounds; you’re sure of it.

Maybe next time, you will.

“I know I said everyone was out, but I don’t think you want Ms. Patty busting through the door before you have a chance to.”

The thought of your sixty-year-old, strict-as-fuck house mother catching him with his pants around his ankles is just horrific enough to coax him a bit closer to the ground.

Quinn bites his lip in a show of good faith.

“Good boy,” you hum your approval while stroking him. “Now, tell me what you want. Tell me what you need to cum in my mouth, Quinn.”

“I need—f-fuck!” he grumbles, at war with himself. Ultimately, primal need overpowers the fickle social invention that is a shame: “I need you to play with… with my b-balls again—please.”

Delaying his wish, you wrap your mouth around him one last time. You need to elicit that one-of-one sudden, uneven intake of air—the giveaway gasp, the tremor of truth. Insatiable, you fill your throat to the brink. The distinct, thick scent of the day’s natural musk swirling with the sheen of hard work on the ice keeps you there until your vision blurs and drool pools under your tongue.

Motivated by a sticky, overdue reward and a whine bursting from deep in Quinn’s throat—the sweet sound of total surrender—you succumb to your own desire to make him feel the best he’s ever felt.

You lick at them gingerly at first, and with a doughy, flattened tongue. You meant to test the waters, to take things slow and drag out his orgasm, but a string of colorful language tumbles from his pretty, pink mouth to derail your plans.

With the dam crumbling, you have to suck one into your hot, wet mouth.

His reaction does not disappoint.

Your spit-soaked hands rise to his recently abandoned length as you devote equal attention to the pair with your mouth. Quinn swells and heavies on your tongue and everything is throbbing.

Including the tight heat between your knees, pulsing around the mere thought of him fucking you there instead.

“S’close, ‘m gonna c-cum soon—Shit!”

Amidst the drawn-out expletive, you detach in order to aim his release on his behalf (though very reluctantly), knowing full-well Quinn is far too gone to be capable of anything.

His eyelids flutter seconds before snapping open, intent to watch you watch him fall apart.

Oh, and fall apart he does…

Crude and ear-piercing, and over faster than either of you would’ve preferred, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little flattered by it. You enjoy how easy he is—how pliable.

His hips jerk too easily and his hands wander aimlessly, and you can’t bring yourself to chastise him, entirely consumed by the show unfolding at your hand. It's like he can’t help himself; can’t help but twitch and drip, can’t help but whimper and beg for anything and everything.

He won’t even let you pull away to catch your breath without whining. At one point, whether by accident or designed to keep you from retreating, Quinn’s knees squeezed together, effectively caging you in from both sides.

A messy concoction of cum, spit, and tears paints the lower half of your face. Quinn’s chest heaves as he watches it collect and drip down your neck and into the valley of your chest, soiling your delicate pajamas beyond repair.

Unfazed, you leave the emotionality to him while you lick your fingers clean. Once you’ve finished, you mop up the dissenter spray on your cheeks, chin, and décolletage, and greedily swallow it down, too. It's when you delve between your tits to scoop out the remainder of his spill that Quinn just about keels over.

He falls back against the window, and you shift back into your heels.

He rights his pants, and you wipe your mouth with the corner of your bathrobe.

For a while, you observe one another, having not been this close—or alone—together before.

That’s not to say you didn’t notice him, though.

You actually struggled not to, and it drove your now-ex insane. His enmity toward Quinn came to a head this afternoon. Unable to deny your raging, juvenile crush, you finally pulled the trigger on something that was a long time coming—and for reasons beyond that not-so-unfounded jealousy.

“C-Can I have a head-start before you call the c-cops?” Quinn asks.

He’s so timid, you can’t help but laugh. He blinks down, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he rifles through yours, searching for malicious intent or knotted strings—fury behind an unspoken threat.

You let him look; this is a conclusion he needs to reach without you holding his hand.

When the investigation runs its course having turned up nothing dubious, he slides down to the floor beside you. He’s reverted to avoiding eye contact, unfortunately. Quinn watches the tremor in his fingers instead.

“I am sorry, y'know, about… Well, uh, you know.”

You find the way he dances around committing a felony (repeatedly) weirdly endearing.

While you very well could put him out of his palpable misery—you can actually smell it on him—there's no fun to be found in that. As such, you force Quinn to wrestle with his words a bit longer.

Eventually, you offer him a shrug that isn’t the least bit pacifying.

“You’re going to make it up to me, don’t worry.”

His eyes snap to yours just as you knew they would. His throat quivers in the wake of a sharp gulp.

The nervous tick cracks your nonchalant demeanor. You roll your eyes. “If you’re going to keep watching, you might as well make yourself useful.”

Quinn’s eyes narrow, perplexed. You grin in anticipation.

“My vibrator’s dead, and I can’t find the right charger. Time to get your ass off the bench, Hughes.”

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frenchfrywrites · 11 months

Text

Simeon’s new neighbor

MINORS DNI

Warnings: trans masc top vampire reader, trans human bottom Simeon, blood, both of yall r fucked up.. so like morally gray/dubious things and such, attempt at religious themes and guilt, fingering, humping, blood drinking, fear wetting (nonsexual (if you can believe)), strap on, scent kink, lmk if i missed anything..

tysm to @pulpbeing for helping me w inspiration w this fic :)

It’s a spring Sunday morning when Simeon wakes to find the house across the street from him– the one nobody had lived in for years, and he was certain would never find a buyer– has finally found its new owner. He smiles to himself at the sight of the vintage car in front, and the new doormat placed outside the front door. While there’s not many other signs of life, yet, Simeon hopes that the homeowner will settle in nicely and make the place their own.

It’s out of the ordinary that his new neighbor moved in during the night, Simeon thinks briefly, but refocuses on how happy he is that someone moved in at all. He hums as he brews himself a cup of coffee, exciting himself with imagining what his new neighbor is like. He wonders if they’re friendly. He wonders if he’ll see them at church this morning. Knowing he’ll be seeing a new face around the small town leaves Simeon energized, and truth be told he probably doesn’t need the coffee at all. There’s enough pep in his step anyways.

But his age is catching up to him, and in order to keep from yawning during the service, he downs the cup he’d prepared (though not before adding copious amounts of milk and sugar to make it bearable).

Simeon does little else before going to morning mass, and when he gets there he scans the familiar faces. All the grannies swarm at him, asking him about his week, how he’s been, among other things. He does his best to give them his attention, but he’s losing focus as he continues to analyze the congregation.

He tries not to let disappointment sink in as no new face enters the church. The sunny day turning cloudy does little to help his emotional state. Simeon rationalizes that perhaps his neighbor is tired from the move, and even if you never go to church that doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. Smiling to himself, he decides he’ll make you a dessert as a welcoming gift.

It’s not long before he’s standing in front of your door, reaching out to ring your doorbell, holding the sweet treat in the other hand.

“Who’s there?” a beautiful voice calls from within, and Simeon feels rejuvenated, excited, and giddy all over again.

“Your new neighbor!” he responds, figuring that if he only responded with his name, you’d be entirely confused.

“Hello?” you open the door, and Simeon’s heart nearly stops. You’re nothing short of impressive and deeply intimidating in your beauty. He thought he was wearing his Sunday best, but compared to your outfit he might as well be wearing rags. Every strand of your hair is perfect, and you’ve no blemishes or disfigurements. In fact, if it didn’t sound silly to say aloud, he'd say you’re glowing. And what impresses him even more so, is that your beauty seems so effortless.

His jaw drops slightly, leaving him gaping at you like an idiot. He’s embarrassed to be standing before you like this, as he imagines he must look so frumpy and boring compared to your elegance. You don’t seem to mind though. In fact if Simeon were to guess by your expression alone, he’d say you’re endeared and pleased with him at your doorstep.

“Ah, hello!” he finally shakes himself out of his stupor. “My name is Simeon, I live across the street,” he gestures behind himself, to his house.

You don’t even spare his house a glance, your eyes instead staying locked on him, and Simeon feels his heart throb at how they’re an unusual, but mesmerizing, bright amber color. He licks his lips, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. “Um- I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, so I made you a-” he prattles on, telling you about what he made, and what’s in it. From there he rambles a bit about allergies, anxiety setting in over the fact that he may have presented something inedible for you.

“Simeon,” he gasps softly at the sound of your voice cutting him off. You’re smiling, and Simeon finds himself mimicking you, though his smile is a far more bashful one. You introduce yourself to him, and Simeon thinks your name is as beautiful as you are, “would you care to come in?” you ask, opening the door for him. He enters your home without a second thought.

The two of you get on like you’ve been friends for years. You make him tea and guide him to your living room where you’re able to talk to him for hours, about a myriad of topics, until Simeon’s grumbling belly regrettably leads to him excusing himself for dinner. You walk him to your door, waiting and watching at your doorstep until you see him wave to you from inside his house.

Simeon is a social butterfly, and gets on with just about anyone, but he feels different with you. He feels like a kid with a crush again, and it’s not just that you’re good company, he feels utterly at ease and refreshed in your presence. For the rest of the night he flits around his own house in a haze of bliss, already thinking about what he wants to discuss with you next.

He finds himself at your doorstep the following evening, because that’s the time you told him you were the most available. You welcome Simeon into your home happily, and insist on making dinner for him. Strangely you don’t eat, but you tell him it’s because you had a filling lunch, and promise him you’ll eat later in the night. Simeon feels only mildly awkward being the only one eating at the table, but that feeling melts away slowly as you start up conversation again.

Like the previous night, the two of you talk until Simeon’s body catches up to him and he’s yawning more than he’s speaking. He leaves with a smile on his face, and waves to you happily from his house. He knows that his feelings towards you may become an issue later, because he can’t imagine a world where they’re reciprocated, but he’s enjoying himself too much to worry about it now. He figures he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

The next few nights he finds himself too busy to see you, but that doesn’t mean you’re off his mind. Rather, Simeon finds himself thinking of you nearly obsessively; until the first body turns up.

The town Simeon lives in is a small one, and when someone is found dead, everyone knows the details and feels their absence. The community mourns, and Simeon feels shock and fear ripple through it. This body was mangled and gored, and the main theory is that an animal did it. Despite there being an official theory, all eyes are on Simeon’s new neighbor, the outsider.

Whispers only die down once the family receives a bouquet from you on their doorstep. You’re not welcomed yet, but you’re no longer a suspect.

Simeon finds himself confused, and seeking someone to talk to. Before you, he would have gone to confession, but now he hurries across the street when the world around him turns a deep blue and twilight sinks across the sky.

“Simeon,” you greet him happily, ushering him in immediately.

“Hi,” he breathes, again taken aback by your presence like the first day he met you. The memory of you that’s been running through his mind doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing before him.

The two of you stare at one another in the foyer. You clap your hands, “I don’t think I ever gave you a tour of my home, did I?” Simeon shakes his head, grateful for you taking the lead of the conversation.

He follows you eagerly as you guide him through the first floor that he’s seen most of. You go through the kitchen, the dining and living room, your study, and the downstairs bathroom. Then you lead him upstairs. Simeon finds himself entirely distracted from the grim events of the week as you move from room to room.

Upstairs you show him your little library– and you pause here for a while, because of course Simeon has to jealously browse your collection– the room where you do your work, and finally your bedroom. Simeon can’t help but feel bashful when you kindly show him your room. He hopes you don’t notice. If you do, you’re kind enough not to mention it.

Your house is like a museum, Simeon thinks. There’s more artifacts, antiques, and collectables in each room than he’s ever seen in his life. You have things from every era, and he can’t help but be in awe of how much care and love you put into them.

There are some oddities within your home as well. He notices you have every mirror and window covered. Simeon wouldn’t dare bring it up though, fearing that he’d come off as rude or invasive.

After leading him through the upstairs, you bring him back down to the living room.

“There’s a basement too,” you mention offhandedly as you sit down, “but it’s unfinished.”

“Your house is amazing,” Simeon confesses. You smile, and he continues, “thank you for taking me on a tour, I was…” he trails off for a moment, “I was having a rough time with the recent events, and this was a needed distraction.” In response to that you hum,

“I’m happy to have been able to help, Simeon,” you rest your head on your hand looking at him through your lashes, and Simeon feels a guilty pang of lust grow in his loins. “When death presents itself so violently and suddenly, it can be so consuming,” you muse. “I wish I could have done more for the family, I hope my condolences provided a moment of comfort.”

“Ah, I was going to tell you,” Simeon starts, “I’m sorry that some of us worried that you had something to do with this! I didn’t think that at all of course. I don’t think you could hurt a fly,” he reassures you. You laugh at that, and Simeon feels his cheeks heat with flush.

“I see how grief could make some see a coincidence where there is none,” you say once your laughter dies off, “but let's not talk too much about all this. You came over for a distraction, no?” Simeon nods, “then let’s talk about something more lighthearted. You said you’d read some of the books you saw in my library?”

From here the conversation turns, and the two of you talk deep into the night.

“I’ll walk you home,” you tell Simeon once he finally admits he needs to leave. Suddenly, any and all exhaustion is gone from Simeon’s body.

“Are you sure? I’m just across the street,” Simeon says, though deep down he wants you to come over.

“I know, but it’s so dark. It’d make me feel better even if it’s just walking a few feet,” you say, pulling on your shoes.

The night is quiet, save for the chirps and calls from nocturnal critters. There’s light conversation between the two of you as you walk Simeon the very small distance between your houses.

“Here I am,” he says awkwardly, unlocking and opening the door to his home. You stand outside the doorway, illuminated from his porch light.

“Good night Simeon,” you say softly, reaching out to tuck a stray hair away from his face. Awestruck, Simeon stands in his doorway dumbly, watching you turn to leave.

“Bye,” he breathes, when you’re already halfway across the street.

He watches you enter your own house, and it’s only when you’re out of sight that he closes the door, and grabs at his chest. He laughs, a relieved and elated sound.

“Oh Father, thank you, thank you,” he murmurs between his giggles. He goes through his nighttime routine, feeling like he’s walking on air, like he’s in a dream.

Simeon had believed that his crush was silly, that there was no possibility of his feelings being returned. Perhaps that’s still true, that your intentions were purely platonic, but it felt like so much more than that. He sighs wistfully, looking out his bedroom window at your home. You’d done something that felt so intimate so easily, like it was nothing at all. It was everything to him.

The weeks pass, and spring turns to summer, and summer eases into fall. Simeon finds himself at your house more often than not as the months pass. Helplessly he falls deeper and deeper in love with you as you make him dinners, and talk with him, and do puzzles, and quietly read together, and drink fine wines on your living room loveseat with him. He texts you during the day, and during most times that he’s not able to be with you.

Simeon’s not been this happy in a long time, and everyone around him knows it. His community has eventually warmed up to you too. It’s hard when they don’t see you in the day time, and you not going to church is certainly a difficult thing for some to stomach. Simeon praises you enough that they finally come around to accepting you.

It’s not all love and bliss surrounding him, as there’s been more deaths. It’s no big city, so typically Simeon’s town deals with maybe two to three deaths a year, and very rarely are they violent ones at that. The police say there’s leads, but when they issue a curfew, the town begins to doubt them. Simeon feels safest when he is with you, but he can’t deny the way that terror has settled into his town.

Another person is reported missing a week before Halloween, and Simeon feels like he’s going crazy. He knows the curfew is quickly approaching, but the urge to see you overpowers his logic and he finds himself in front of your door.

It’s only then that his typical anxiety surrounding breaking rules– and even more powerful, his catholic consciousness and the fear of always being watched– sets in. He worries that even knocking will alert someone that he’s breaking curfew, and instead gives the door a try. To his surprise, it turns under his palm.

Simeon pushes in and finds himself in the house he’s grown to love.

He calls your name, but there’s no response. Quickly, he hurries through the rooms on the main floor, but finds each space empty. As soon as Simeon attempts to take the first step upstairs, he hears the crash from below him.

The basement.

Simeon would have never guessed to check there, so he thanks God for the noise you’ve made. He honestly forgot you had one, but as he searches for an entrance he remembers how you’d mentioned it when you’d first given him a tour of your house.

He finds the door relatively easily, now that he’s looking for it. It’s cracked open, an invitation to join you if Simeon’s ever seen one. The lights are off, and he finds that strange, but he’s gotten used to your oddities by now. Softly, he calls your name as he makes his way down the stairs, trying not to startle you.

Simeon’s brain takes a second to process the scene before him as he reaches the basement floor. At first he thinks it’s a lump of clothes, but he soon realizes there’s a body inside of said clothes. A body. Not your body, either. He registers that there’s blood everywhere, and he can’t believe he didn’t notice that first. He can’t believe anything he’s seeing.

A soft, choked sound leaves him at the massacre displayed before him. He’s stunned, unable to think of how to react, or where to begin. Simeon’s hands are shaking, his pulse beating rapidly in his ears. Distantly– hardly audible at all compared to the pounding in his head– he hears the soft puttering sound of liquid dripping. At first he thinks it’s blood from somewhere, but then he notices the wetness in his pants. Weakly he nearly laughs (it comes out as a strained moan), because now he feels more shame than he does terror.

“Simeon?” a familiar voice shocks him to his core. He turns to look at where the sound came from, and is not entirely pleased with what he finds.

Your familiar, beautiful face is covered with blood, your eyes shining a bright gold, staring right at him. Simeon should run, he should turn and scramble up the stairs out of your house to the comfort of his neighbors. But he’s frozen.

“Simeon,” you coo his name, stepping towards him. He has a million thoughts at once, adding to the powerful headache he has growing.

“A demon?” he whines weakly, finally finding the strength to speak. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and then you’re smiling, showing off your animalistic, lethally sharp canines.

“No, no,” and maybe it’s because Simeon’s brain is working really hard to keep up with him, but weren’t you further away before? “I know I don’t have the sparkly skin like some more popular of my kind,” you nearly giggle and he feels his knees try to buckle. “But can’t you guess what I am?” you tease.

“Vampire,” he breathes, no uncertainty laced in his voice. You nod,

“Oh good, that’s right,” you praise, slowly taking him into your arms. Simeon melts like butter into you. You coo, “aw sweet thing, don't fret, I won’t hurt you, I could never hurt you,” you assure him. Simeon doubts you, but there’s not much else he can think to do.

You hoist him up carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm,” you start slowly making your way up the stairs. “I didn’t mean for you to see this, of course. I don’t mind others' opinions of me– though you seem to care a great deal on my behalf– anyways I do care what you think. We could have gone a while without you ever finding out. Naughty Simeon, you shouldn’t have been breaking curfew anyways,” you tease, rambling as you take him swiftly all the way up to your room, and into the adjoining bathroom there.

“Would you take off your clothes?” you ask, setting him down on the toilet, and starting hot water for him. Simeon sits motionless, feeling confused and still quite terrified. You look back at him, and your eyes glow a bright yellow, “You’re safe,” you assure him, “and it’s going to be okay,” and with every word you speak Simeon feels relief and calm wash over him. He exhales a soft breath, almost forgetting what he was scared of in the first place. He remembers your request, and does as he’s told,

He shakily, with your help, finds himself comfortable in your tub.

“If I had the working blood to do so, I’d be blushing,” you tell him as you sit next to him, on the floor of the bathroom. When he doesn’t respond you sigh, “lots on your mind, I suppose.”

The two of you sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“God forgive me,” Simeon finally breathes, turning to face you. There’s still blood caked on you, and it makes him gag. You frown, clearly upset by this. Laughable that you’re more upset by his disgust than the dead body in your basement.

“I’m sorry, I should let you go, and– and leave in the morning. I apologize for ever–” Simeon cuts you off with a sad sound.

“It’s not you,” he confesses, “I– I’m disgusted that I still love you, even though you’re…” he gestures vaguely.

“A cold-hearted, bloodsucking, undead, uncaring killer?” you prompt, smiling at him. Simeon, despite it all, smiles back.

“Yes," you tongue licks your blood stained lips,

"And you love me?" You sound so hopeful. Simeon doesn't hesitate,

"Yes," he breathes. You reach out tucking a stray hair behind his ear like you did so many nights ago.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, and instead of answering, Simeon closes his eyes and leans in.

Your lips are cold, but Simeon soon finds he doesn’t mind so much. He’s dreamed of this moment, and while it didn’t come about in the way he imagined, his heart still flutters and soars at the feeling of finally having your lips on his. He reaches up, cupping your cold face with his warm, wet hands, pulling you closer. You moan softly, licking his lips with your cold tongue.

Briefly, Simeon thinks that God must be watching him right now and cursing him for his choices. Then again, if He is all knowing, He knew Simeon would never stop loving you. Maybe God thinks creatures of the night deserve some love too.

You pull away, your eyes so bright Simeon wonders if they’re actually glowing.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you knocked on my door all those months ago,” you confess. Simeon smiles bashfully,

“Me too,” he whispers. You lean in and kiss him again, and Simeon knows he’s in the deep end now. There’s no way he’ll ever return to his normal life again; if it meant not having you in his life, he’s not sure he’d want to.

This time, Simeon can taste the blood that’s still caked on your lips, and it grows harder and harder to ignore the fact that you’re still clothed and covered in gore. He pulls away this time.

“Get in the bath with me?” he requests softly, never feeling so emboldened in his life. You moan softly,

“Are you sure?” you ask, and the slow heat that had settled in Simeon’s body (just from a bit of kissing) now feels like a raging fire.

“Yes, please,” and you don’t need to be asked twice. It’s like he blinked and there you are naked in the tub with him. Simeon doesn’t hide the way he ogles your now bare body. He shimmies his way forward, closing the space between you, and grabs a washcloth. You watch him carefully, unblinking, as Simeon carefully washes the blood from your face.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper sincerely when he removes the cloth from your face, and sets it down elsewhere.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?” Simeon jokes, smiling at you. He pauses, “speaking of mouths,” he mumbles, looking at you hopefully. You laugh, catching his drift and opening your mouth for him.

Carefully, like you’re a wild animal, Simeon runs his fingers along your teeth, marveling at how sharp your canines are. “Would you suck my blood?” he asks breathlessly. You lick his finger, and he pulls back a bit.

“If I ever started, I’m not sure I could stop,” you tell him honestly. Gently you take a hold of his wrist, and press your nose against his pulse point. You look at him as you lick across his skin, “it’s hard not to, when you smell so good,” you confess. Simeon flushes and squirms under your gaze. He glances down, trying to avoid eye contact when it becomes too much for him.

“You’re hard,” he breathes, noticing your clit peeking out from between your pubes, his voice cracking with excitement. He looks back up at you and you’re grinning.

“Yeah,” you let go of Simeon’s wrist, “and you are too. You’re so wet for me” you sound proud, but more than that you're thrilled. Simeon furrows his brow, because how could you tell when you’ve not yet touched him? “I can smell it,” you explain, sensing his confusion.

Simeon flushes from being found out, and because he is- to his surprise- wildly turned on by the way you’re able to smell his arousal.

“Oh,” he breathes softly, and there’s a moment of stillness between the two of you. Then, your lips are pressed against his, and Simeon is wrapping his arms around your neck, pulling you between his thighs. You hold onto his hips to prevent yourself from slipping, and Simeon can tell you’re holding back your strength, but your grip is still pleasantly strong.

Now, instead of his fingers running along your teeth, Simeon uses his tongue to explore your mouth. Your fangs are scarily sharp, and your mouth is cold, but none of that bothers him. He can feel your pussy rut against his thighs, and he moans into your mouth.

“Will you,” he pulls away to start, “would you make love to me?” you groan at Simeon’s request.

“You’re so cute,” Simeon opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off, “is that really something you want?” you ask, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“It’s all I’ve been able to fantasize about for the last few months,” Simeon confesses easily, and you groan again.

“Fuck, okay, yes, me too,” you seem thoroughly flustered, and Simeon feels a sharp bit of pride jolt through him at the fact that he’s able to make you feel that way.

You kiss him again as one of your hands drift from his hip to his cunt. Simeon gasps and curls in on himself a bit when he feels your fingers against him. For so long he’s only been the one to touch himself, and it’s exhilarating to feel someone else press against him. You rub easy circles onto his throbbing clit, and Simeon hiccups.

“Fuh-oh-feels so good,” he whines against your lips, slipping a bit in the tub and mashing his mouth against your chin. You huff out a laugh,

“Are you going to last long enough for me to get my fingers in you?” you tease. Simeon takes your words seriously, and shakes his head, jerking his hips and making the water slosh,

“Probably not,” you coo, leaning down to nuzzle against his neck. You inhale deeply, and moan,

“I want you to be able to take my strap,” Simeon’s breath hitches, “will you be able to after cumming, or do you want me to make you wait?”

Simeon whines, his eyes fluttering shut. It feels too good to have you playing with his most sensitive bundle of nerves, he can’t think straight enough to give you a response. You pinch his clit and his eyes shoot open,

“Yes sir,” he rushes out, “yes, I-I can do it.” You smile, showing off your fangs.

“Good,” Simeon’s back arches when one of your fingers slips down and into his aching hole. You’re so cold, he wonders if he feels like a furnace inside. He squeezes around you, panting for air, feeling far too close to cumming already. Faintly Simeon can feel you still rubbing yourself against his leg, and the water splashes gently against the sides.

One finger quickly turns to two, and you’re stretching him open, your thumb still rubbing insistently against his clit. In the brief moments before his orgasm comes crashing into him, Simeon remembers how the French call it the little death. He’d laugh if he weren’t so busy spasming around your fingers, his eyes rolling back into his head and his mouth dropping open in a silent cry. His legs tremble, and his hands shake. It’s never been as intense as this.

“There we go, there we go little angel,” you coo, “ohh, look at you,” you sound foggy and far away as Simeon rides out his orgasm. He can vaguely sense that you’re still rutting against him, and feels the way you’re licking at his skin.

It takes him a moment, and then he’s coming down, breathing heavily and slumping into the cool water.

“Simeon?” you test, but he’s downright dumbstruck, only mumbling incoherently in return. You huff a laugh, and instead let him warm your fingers until he hums softly.

“Hi,” he says dumbly, a bashful smile on his face.

“You’re back,” you tease, pulling your fingers from him– causing Simeon to whine.

“I still want to,” he clears his throat, “um, take your," he coughs, "cock,” he stumbles a bit but finally gets out, “if you’d let me.”

“Oh angel,” he feels butterflies in his stomach at your use of the nickname for him. “I’d love to.”

The next few minutes are filled with you moving from the bathroom to your bedroom. You insist on drying him down yourself, teasing and touching Simeon all over until he’s squirming and giggling. It’s frightening how easily he can forget about the body in the basement. It’s like it never happened at all.

You guide him to your room, your cold hand fitting perfectly in his, and lay him on your bed. Simeon thinks it’s funny that you have a bed at all. He wonders if you ever sleep. Absentmindedly he plays with his hair while watching you take out your harness. He feels heat growing between his legs as he catches a glimpse of your strap.

Soon, you’re on top of him, with lube in your hand. Simeon spreads his legs making room for you between them.

“You finished pretty quick in the bathtub,” you muse popping open the lube. Simeon covers his face, feeling a bit embarrassed. You coo, using one hand to move his arms so you can see his face, “aw don’t be shy, I’m flattered, really.”

“It’s because it’s been so long since I had someone– um– touch me like that,” it’s not something that’s bothered him much, the fact that as he’s aged he’s had less and less people make advances on him, but confessing it to you suddenly feels so embarrassing. You don’t seem to judge him though,

“That’s alright sweetheart, I’ll be gentle,” you promise, spreading lube along your fingers. Simeon smiles, again finding himself feeling safe in your presence.

Just to be safe, you slip a couple fingers in him, stretching him out, slicking up his insides for you. Then you lather your cock with lube, and press against him.

“Wanted to have you like this for so long,” you tell him, rubbing against Simeon’s hole, then against his clit. He presses his hips back against you, so desperate to have you filling him up.

You lean down, taking one of his nipples into your mouth as you slowly push into him. One of your fangs lightly grazes against it, and Simeon gasps. Mistaking it for a sound of pain, you pause, looking up at him with a worried gaze.

“It’s okay, keep going, keep moving, please,” he babbles desperately. You switch to his other nipple, and comply with his request, slowly moving deeper into him.

“Oh,” Simeon sighs when your hips press flush against his.

“Okay?” you pull off his chest to check in.

“Yeah, yes,” he groans, “feels so good,” he tells you as he wraps his legs around your waist, keeping you impossibly close to him. “You’re so deep, ‘m so full,” you lean down to kiss him, stopping him from rambling more about your cock.

Slowly but steadily, you begin to fuck into him. It’s an agonizing pace at first, but Simeon realizes you’re trying to be careful with him, and he’s lovestruck all over again.

Finally he can’t take it any longer. “Faster,” he whines against your lips, “please sir.” You’re happy to comply, picking up the pace to satisfy him. Simeon keens, letting your tongue into his mouth. He drools and pants around your tongue, losing his composure and control. Simeon can’t believe how free he feels.

“Mhmm, angel,” you pull away from him to groan, licking your lips, “you’re so good, you taste so good,” Simeon whimpers at the praise, feeling his pussy gush. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, lookin’ like that, smelling like that,” you drawl, your speech slurring.

“Bite me,” Simeon begs, wanting so badly to have you drunk off of him. Your brows furrow, like you’re upset by the idea, and yet your hips stutter. “Puh-lease,” and with his wanton plea, you lean down and lick at his neck.

You’re fucking him hard and fast now, getting Simeon closer and closer. He lets out a pleased noise when your fangs sink into his flesh, and then you’re drinking from him. It’s a weird sensation, not one that hurts at all.

It takes him a minute to realize it, but Simeon thinks you might be cumming. If the gurgled moans, and the way you’re ramming your hips into him at such an erratic pace is any hint. The idea of you getting off from the taste of his blood sends him over, and for the second time tonight you make him cum.

Minutes feel like hours and milliseconds simultaneously, but soon Simeon feels woozy.

“Ah,” he moans, feeling lightheaded. You dislodge from him, licking at the fresh wounds on his neck. Then you’re pulling away from him. All Simeon can manage is a weak whine. Shushing him gently, you pull your strap out of him, and gracefully plop down next to him, taking him in your arms.

“Sorry, I think I got carried away,” Simeon says what he thinks is “it’s okay,” but it sounds like a whole lot of nothing coming out of his mouth. “I think I should get you a snack or something,” you muse.

Exhaustion hits and when Simeon wakes up again you have water, juice, tea, and ten types of snacks available for him. He feels sluggish and nauseous.

“Do you need any help?” you ask, and Simeon looks over to find you sitting in the armchair in the corner of your room, looking at him.

Simeon shakes his head, shakily grabbing the glass of juice and drinking it down. His body, eager for sugars and nutrients, immediately feels better.

“What are you doing over there?” he asks carefully. You look nervous, an expression that he can’t remember ever seeing on you before.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” you say. Simeon laughs,

“A bit late for that,” he teases, and pats the bed. You come over slowly, settling in next to him like a guilty dog. He smiles at you, “if you’ll have me, I don’t expect that I’ll be leaving you any time soon,” you light up.

“Oh what a relief,” you cuddle into him, “because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

#oh the agony #cw blood #cw monsterfucking #cw scent kink #cw religious guilt #written by someone w no religious guilt so uhhh idk how real that tag is lmao #spice #sub obey me #sub simeon

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1800-page-not-found · 6 months

Text

Another Lifetime | Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

I caught up with the manga and I think I'm going insane.

I was gonna make him a yandere but i switched up in the middle lol

ig i write for jujutsu kaisen now to yippie

Yall ever have those fucked up dreams of having a child or taking care of them only to wake up and realize your child doesn't exist, and will never exist?

If you do, then you can understand how Gojo acts in this story.

If you don't...just imagine how it feels to lose the closest person or animal to you, and for the entire world ignore the fact that you lost them and expects you to pretend they never existed in the first place. Something like that.

Something is wrong. Very wrong. You can feel it in your bones. Everything's the same, but different.

This... Gojo Satoru is not your Satoru.

What had happened that day? If only you were there to witness it. It was the first time you heard that the Gojo Satoru had fainted.

When he wakes up, he smiles, like his usual cheery self. But something's different. There's a hint of grief.

Everyone else seems to think he's fine. But perhaps its because they don't know him how you know him.

But now, do you even know him?

Day by day, he starts to stick less and less to his morals. He feels empty, a terrifying attribute for a man deemed the strongest. You just hope this Gojo Satoru will stay on the 'good' side.

Or maybe you never knew him at all.

Maybe, he held a facade, even in front of you. Maybe he was that broken this whole time. You wonder what happened that day.

But that's the past. Now...You wondered if you would survive today. It was no longer comforting, being alone with...Gojo was now a frightening experience.

"[name]." He smiled at you, yet it felt cold. Cruel. Evil.

"Yes, Gojo?" You answer back. He pauses.

"...You no longer call me Satoru." He is very close to you. It's suffocating.

"I thought you'd like to be called more formally." His smile drops. It's eerily silent, his eye pierce into you, seemingly tearing you apart until nothing is left.

"I see. Well! That's not what I really wanted to tell you!" And just like that, Gojo is happy. You can no longer tell if he means it or not.

"I escaped! That day-I was set free." He's spouting nonsense again. What does that mean?

"[name]." He grabs your wrist tightly. "are you afraid? Do you not like...the real me?"

The real him?

"Gojo, what nonsense are you spouting. Of course I like you." He smiles again.

"Just wanted to make sure. ⁱ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ⁱ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᶜʳᵃᶻʸ."

You exchange a few more sentences, and part ways. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes boring into your back, looking into your soul.

It's chilling. Gojo isn't smiling. Blood...Blood everywhere. Is this the day humanity ends?

"Gojo! What are you doing!?" You shout at him.

He turns around to face you. "Ah! [name]!" A smile that could only be perceived in nightmares appears on his face. "I got rid of them. They were going to hurt our family!"

You freeze.

He sees your reaction, and only grins in response.

"That day, I died. I really died. I couldn't use reversed curse technique. It was scary. 'How am I here then?' you might wonder."

He looks deranged, hysterical.

"It wasn't Jujutsu. A whole entire third world opened up." His face contorts to agony. "I lived a whole entire new life [name]! Free from curses, free from Jujutsu! We got married! We had a child, [name], a child! I was so happy-and, and-" He sounds crazy. He grips his hair, almost to the verge of pulling it out. "in a single moment-it all disappeared when I somehow came back to life."

--------

I...had a child? No, no, this is just him trying to get into your head!

--------

"It's not real."

"BUT IT IS, [NAME]. OUR DAUGHTER-SHE WAS REAL. ⁱ⁻ⁱ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ…" He mumbles the last part. He crumbles to the ground, a sobbing mess.

This man...he is your Satoru. Just...broken.

But...if it's your Satoru, then you can accept it.

"Satoru..." You bend down. You're... crying.

He looks up at you, eyes red. "ʸᵒᵘ⁻ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵇʸ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ…" His voice is weak.

"I'm sorry." You pull him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry I couldn't accept you and comfort being at your lowest point."

The two of you hug for a long time, until Satoru pulls out a glass orb of sorts which glows a faint gold color. "Satoru?...What...What is this?"

"My baby...Our baby. I can bring her back, [name]."

But nothing's ever free in this cursed world.

"What price...must be paid?..."

He starts to sniffle, and breaks out into tears again. "I have to kill people [name]. I hate this. I hate this so much."

You pause. "How many?..."

"A thousand lives."

It honestly wasn't a hard decision. You hold your daughter's soul securely, then standing up.

"[n-name]?" Satoru looks up at you, wiping his tears away, just as yours start to pour.

"Satoru. From this day on, I will become a curse user. I'll take the blame. You have never hurt an innocent person, and I will have claimed a thousand lives. One day we'll meet again. Let me do this for you, please."

--------

It was terrible. Satoru knew that one day, your fate's would intertwine again. And on that day, you'd take your last breath.

"Under Jujutsu Regulations, t-the curse user known as [n-name]-he choked out a sob-[l. name] must be executed."

It was the first time after the day you left him, that he had cried again.

You didn't put up a fight. You smiled as blood poured out of your mouth. You held a piece of paper in your hand when you died.

It read:

I ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ, Sᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ. Fʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀs ʀᴇʙᴏʀɴ, I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʟᴏᴠᴇ. [ᴅ. ɴᴀᴍᴇ] ɪs ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ɢɪʀʟ. I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʟɪꜰᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ.

I ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡɪsʜ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ.

Sᴛᴀʏ sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢɪʀʟ. I ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴛs.

⁻Yᴏᴜʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ [ɴᴀᴍᴇ].

He cried for hours, holding your dead body. You named her the same name you had given her in his other lifetime. He...never told you what you named her.

--------

"Daddy!" A girl shouts gleefully as she gets pushed forward on a swing.

"Wheeee! Isn't this fun, darling?" Satoru pushes his daughter carefully.

"Very! Hehe!" The little girl giggles.

--------

Satoru opened his eyes as he awakened on a grassy field. 'I fell asleep...where am I?' He looks around to see a faint figure on a hill, painting.

Walking closer, he sees, it's you. It's...you?... "[n-name]?"

He runs and hugs you so tight, you think you'd have died again from his hug.

"I can't stay long Satoru but... I wanted to check up on you. How is [d. name]?"

He smiled. "She's turning seven next month! She's also inherited your cursed technique."

"That's lovely. I'm so proud of you Satoru."

"Of course! I'm not the strongest sorcerer for nothing! It makes me the best father!"

You two talked for what seemed to be like an eternity.

"I have to go now, Satoru." You smiled softly.

"I know name. I love you. [l. name] [d. name.] loves you a lot too. She's never forgotten about you or what you look like, and I intend to keep it that way."

Your eyes widen in surprise. He gave her your last name.

"Goodbye. I love you, Satoru." You whispered as you faded away.

#angst #angst to comfort #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst #satoru gojo

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usergyu · 4 months

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hi everyone! it's jen, back at it again since i always come around with a long, heartfelt "end of the year" wrap up! i just gotta be there. i hadn't had the time to come up with an actual heart-to-heart message this year, so i would like to share something else with you guys instead (aka my personal ending ment hehe) i hope this finds you all well! 🩵

a message for the upcoming year - "if you knock on a door and it remains closed, it means there is nothing behind it. theres no magical, mysterious, alternative life you are being denied. there is nothing you are missing out on. what you are grieving is an idea of what might have been. if you feel you have spent too much of your life in disappointment and regret, perhaps is that you have tried to turn too many dead ends into pathways, empty rooms into more than they were ever intended to be. if you knock on a door and it remains closed, it means that the path is unfolding somewhere else, and you're now one step closer to finding it. it is not your dreams that must be released, but your sense of posibility that must be awakened."

another one goes... "if today was difficult for you, i hope you know that tomorrow can be better, i hope you know that the moments that are uncomfortable or hurt or dont make sense will pass. i hope you remind yourself of all the times you didnt think you were going to feel better but you did. as you go through your days, remember that every moment is just a moment.

when you cant take it one day at a time, try to take it one breath at a time, take really good care of yourself and know that it's okay if you don't accomplish everything you told yourself you needed to today. you dont have to start a new routine or healthy habit today if it feels like too much. you dont have to be as productive as the people that you see everywhere. your life is yours and you only have this one. tomorrow it will feel a little bit better. and then better. and then better. you are safe. you will have everything that you need."

and finally, before the next 12 months begin, here's your checkpoint - if you're carrying a weight that doesnt belong to you, it's time to release it. forgive yourself for those lessons that were learned a little too late. you're human, navigating a path that's both complex and beautiful. embrance the wisdom you gained, even if it came at a cost. remember, growth knows no timeline and you're exactly where you need to be.

your timing is yours alone, nobody else's!

@hyunpic ♡ @shorelinnes ♡ @xiaoxiongmaos ♡ @choibeomggyu ♡ @yeonjune ♡ @choi-soobin ♡ @heelicopter ♡ @minhosblr ♡ @innielove ♡ @crazy-form ♡ @facethesuns ♡ @dokyeomis ♡ @moonsua ♡ @hooned ♡ @lveclouds ♡ @exocean ♡ @dowoonyoon ♡ @bcomgyu ♡ @seungkwan-s ♡ @xiaojuun ♡ @usertae ♡ @bestleader ♡ @yutito ♡ @tmpttion ♡ @dykeyeonjun ♡ @wayvmp3 ♡ @oddinarys ♡ @woozis ♡ @jeonwonwoo ♡ @tbzuyeon ♡ @twiceland ♡ @soujisetas ♡ @yeonbins ♡ @heesungs ♡ @ddominho ♡ @isitstraightvodka ♡ @euphhorias ♡ @beomieblr ♡ @gyusgal ♡ @jaeyuned ♡ @5oobin ♡ @hueningkai ♡ @pookiez ♡ @waketoearth ♡ @deerseungs

to my cosmos (bc who am I if not the one who writes a bunch of words to yall lol):

🍜🐕 chesca: you are NOT at all the mean words stuck at the back of your mind. no way! you're as pretty as the flowers, the water, the weather, (specially the ORANGE SHADES) in each of those monet's paintings. with that, art might not be everyone's cup of tea, sure, but is still ARTWORK for a reason. you're not behind on anyone, you don't need to rush, to keep up, i've told you this before, so please... take great care of yourself. i want you to be as proud of yourself one day as i am on the daily. one day that will turn into everyday. you will get there, you will be your greatest inspiration one day.

🌻 sun: of all the things i wish to tell you, felix wrapped it all in one go: just take your time, if you want to take a break, take a break. dont force yourself to do something. if you feel tired or if it's too hard for you, no need to stress. you still have time. every single person is good at something. you still have so much time. this is your checkpoint: tend to your wounds, let them heal, if it hurts too bad, i'll help you bandage them til you are good to go. i promise!

🐱 maja: as a grand poet (lee know) once said: "no matter how you look at the sky, it is still blue. when it rains it turns gray. there are also times when it's dark but above the clouds, it's still blue. it'll all be over soon, it's just an extra headache if you worry about it". you will be alright! and yes, even if that one issue (or a few issues) is still weighing down in your heart a little, it's just a bigger cloud. the bluest of skies will still be there, for you, and so will i!

🎨 agnes: i wish i could just cup your face with my hands and yell at you about all the necessary things you need to remind yourself. for now, here goes something: "you are not meant to be ornamental, you are meant to be a person. that means taking up space and being loud and standing up for your needs (and sometimes wants) and being inconvenient because that's what people are." 100 becomes 99 if a number is missing, the set will never be whole without that 1 number to it. the space will be there for it to take up, bc 1 belongs there. much like us, much like the world. so please, just allow yourself to be.

finally - to all of you beautiful people, if you guys must, just take a moment to yourselves, to reflect upon everything. love is such a beautiful and messy thing, but when it comes to the end of that line, what are we if not love personified? whenever i write these, know that i am speaking to you all specifically, heart to heart. i dont know about the rest of the world, but I know about my friend-tuals. you guys deserve the world, i dont care what anyone says, you. deserve. peace. so rest well, we got another 12 months ahead! among such violent ends, you are bound to be a wonderful start.

i hate goodbyes, but if it means opening up space for a better something, i'm willing to bid farewell for a change. so much has happened, which makes me think... what a privilege it is to be able to still be here, able to use words to reach out to you all. thank you to everyone on this list. we will all be okay, eventually. we will be okay! let's meet again soon, and then again and again and again. i love you guys so so much. happy new years!!! 🎉

#i honestly cant put into words how much yall actually mean to me in whatever level of it lol #this was all like written in a rush since i've been both busy and dealing w stuff but it's from the heart 🫶#anyway we (me) still got 1:30hrs to go but happy new yearrrrr 🎉 ilu!!!

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majimasleftasscheek · 2 years

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tigerfish ramblings

I really enjoy thinking about them healing and coping with each other so I hope yall enjoy! this will prolly have some repeats from my last hc post but this is a lil more in depth

they could meet up in prison, Saejima noticing the new guy who’s just entered the regular population, apparently housed in a medical prison due to severe injuries. it was recommended Nishiki stay where he was but he insisted he didn’t want to be pitied for the current state of his body. anything that happens to him now is more than deserved—he’s convinced he should suffer for everything he’s done.

so Saejima sees this sad sack, struggling with something, and decides to help him. Nishiki doesn’t want it but something about the way Saejima insists is different. Saejima’s not here to feel sorry for him. he can tell Nishiki’s an independent sort of guy. Saejima’s just pragmatic: thinks if this guy’s got a mind to keep living despite his trauma then he might as well put in the effort to make living worth the time—get help when you need it; it’s a waste to spend it struggling. so he offers that help and Nishiki’s never really considered that—that he doesn’t have make every living moment hell for the sake of some self imposed punishment. he begrudgingly accepts. he’s still unsure if he should be allowed kindness but this gets them to talking.

they find out the two of them are Tojo fools, Nishiki being wildly impressed Saejima’s the 18 Count guy but the big guy’s not so proud of it. it hits Nishiki coldly, that someone so legendary is here with him now, rotting away in jail, nothing to his name other than murder. he relates that he was a patriarch himself and now he’s nobody, fundamentally dead to everyone who’s left alive to care. they both have a sad little laugh over the things they’ve done only to end up in the same place, perhaps already forgotten.

Saejima’s had all the time in the world to think though, to understand that what he did will always follow him so he looks to the future. what’s there to do than move on and face the hauntings that plague him? however, Nishiki’s still fresh in the realization that everything was for naught. that his life’s work afforded him nothing but irreversible damage and a legacy to be ashamed of. Nishiki wants to move on but can’t. it’s too soon and too real. Saejima’s hopeful, though.

he wants to see his sister, Majima, his boss, he wants to know what’s happened since he was put away. Nishiki doesn’t want to see anyone. doesn’t believe he’s deserving of seeing anyone. Nishiki wants to undo everything and wonders, would Saejima do the same? Saejima doesn’t see the point in asking. what would it change? would it make him feel better? to pretend he didn’t do such terrible things as if wishful thinking could minimize his actions? no, now is just acceptance and punishment. taking responsibility. Nishiki... he has trouble with that. he can’t wrap his mind around moving on—to a degree he doesn’t want to. he wants to stew in loathing and blame. it’s all he’s ever really known of course, being in Kiryu’s shadow. Nishiki regrets decisions while Saejima regrets things he hasn’t yet done. Saejima knows he can’t change the past so there’s no point trying to live in a time that no longer belongs to him. Nishiki wishes he could. that it was that easy.

Nishiki thinks Saejima would have been a great patriarch because he cares. he cares like Kiryu does. he’s kind to people that don’t deserve it like himself. Nishiki thinks it’s great that Saejima has people waiting for him since he can only wish that for himself. Saejima asks about this Kiryu guy and Nishiki’s quiet. doesn’t even know how Kiryu’s doing after the bomb. he hopes he’s okay, alive at least; it’s Kiryu, he has to be. Nishiki laughs, saying he should have been more like Kiryu, more caring and brave and steadfast. maybe things could have turned out different. maybe he could have been better. Saejima tells him that anyone can be better, but they don’t have to be like someone they’re not.

Nishiki’s shocked. his entire life was a comparison to Kiryu and this guy, this legendary guy who’s too good to him, doesn’t compare him to Kiryu. it’s not normal for Nishiki to feel valued. it’s not normal for him to think someone’s not lying to him. but Saejima must mean it right? to see value in someone like him who’s done nothing but self loathe and self punish. maybe he’s just being nice but Saejima’s so blunt and sure of himself that Nishiki can’t help but believe him. he was right about this guy, Saejima cares a lot. too much. Saejima has to get it through Nishiki’s thick skull that he cares just the right amount.

so maybe Nishiki can feel vulnerable around Saejima. feel like himself again. someone that doesn’t have to put up fronts. someone that doesn’t have to worry about how he looks when he cries about better times when life was easy and simple. when he remembers his sister and how he feels like he failed her. Saejima gets that. he mentions Yasuko and hopes she’s okay. hopes that everything he’s done hasn’t destroyed her life but he knows it’s not the case. how cruel it was for him to leave her without a word, without a plan. Nishiki would say Saejima is someone Yasuko would be proud of, not for his actions but the person he’s become. remorseful and mournful. human. Nishiki forgot how to be that and for the first time in a long time, he’s been able to feel real again.

but the guilt comes back. Nishiki fails to see how Saejima can think he deserves more than even basic human kindness, how he should have died in the explosion, how he’s a waste of space. Saejima grabs him and tells him to sack the fuck up and realize that living is their penance. to survive is to do better, be better. that’s how they’ll make up for the things they’ve done and if it takes the rest of their lives then that’s how it is. punishment is living through the consequences. judgement is the guilt and burdens they’ll have to bear. he says they deserve to live because they deserve to face their responsibilities. it’s about doing good with the time they have left and that means being more than just worm food. it’s why Saejima’s so compassionate, why he’s so helpful. he’s not going to take more from the world than he can give. he’s already taken so much just to end up with nothing. what a real waste it would be for them to rot away when they could do so much more to atone.

it’s curious, how Saejima wants to be strong for others than himself. Nishiki wants to try but thinks he can’t. Kiryu was always the stronger one, in every sense. Nishiki is nothing without Kiryu. Saejima sits him down, tells him he doesn’t know who the fuck this Kiryu guy is at all so he doesn’t matter. Nishiki has to stand on his own here and it’s terrifying. he can feel himself being judged but it’s not Saejima doing it, it’s himself. he’s afraid. he’s seen what he can do, what he became. yet he’s equally ashamed of the weakling he was. Saejima commends him for still being here, despite the damage to his body, despite the hurt he caused, despite the fear he has. there’s no weakness in that.

Nishiki takes a long time to feel comfortable as himself again. he wants to be his own person, to really try to be better. but what can they do really, while in jail? Saejima says it doesn’t have to be some grand gesture. it can be small things. simple things. even if it’s just offering a friendly hand to someone who didn’t think they deserved it at all.

forgiveness isn’t easy, nor should it be, but the act of trying to get it, to be better to deserve it, to wallow in the pains of coping and healing is both punishment and freedom. Saejima laughs, “shit’s gonna be difficult but it wouldn’t be fair to us or anyone else if it weren’t.”

#F E E L I N G S #my hcs #tigerfish #saejima taiga #nishikiyama akira #my art

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this-is-fox-speaking · 4 months

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hi i’m late to the hatchetfield lore but i just wanna rant about smthn really quick.

what did mr president whatshisface (i cant remember his name like ever, last names aren’t my strong suit for characters) make a deal for?

at first me and a friend assumed it was the same deal stephanie had to go through: sacrifice the thing you cherish most. we assumed he had sacrificed his wife/stephanie’s mother for his position of power, perhaps. but that doesn’t actually make sense, when you think about it a bit more. because there’s a difference in both stephanie and her father’s cases, if this theory is true in any capacity.

if the president sacrificed his wife for his own gain, that’s a selfish act. stephanie sacrificing peter was a selfless act, for the greater good. the first being a selfish act means his wife wouldn’t be what he cherished most. what he cherishes most would be himself.

the lords in black are sadistic creatures. the epitome of knowing they can do whatever they please to these humans, and make them bend to their will. if anything, i imagine they specifically make whatever deal they feel at the moment. this is supported by the christmas list line from wiggly, himself, to me. it’s a good reference to black friday, sure, but think about it. a christmas list is something temporary, an at the time list of things you want at the moment. so it’s simply a scene of wiggly saying “what do i want most at this time?” because he knows he can get whatever he wants. so do all the other lords in black.

they could’ve easily made an entirely different deal with the president. what’s interesting about the president, too, in comparison with the lords in black, is that he doesn’t care for anyone but himself. truly, he’s what her cherishes most. he’ll do whatever he can, and force others to do whatever he wants em to (like forcing stephanie to act like a good daughter for his image and nothing more) at any cost. well, almost any cost. see, despite all of this of his character he is afraid of the lords in black. they took something from him so drastic he refuses to ever make a deal with them again, and pushes this new deal into stephanie specifically. so it isn’t a question of mr president working for the lords in black. he asked for something, and gave something in return. but with all of this, there’s nothing i can really guess at this time of what it could’ve possibly been. i could be reading too deeply into all of it, but at the same time.. starkid’s hatchetfield tales (specifically nightmare time) have never been ones to miss or forget details easily.

so with all of this, it’s impossible to guess. the president only cares about his image, will do anything to keep it- especially to his own daughter, to the living lives of others even- but will not make another deal with the black lords ever again. he’s only done it once. he clearly does not work for them. he, himself- his position, his ego, whatever you can count specifically- is what he cherishes most. wiggly doesn’t need anything to be powerful, he simply toys with the humans who dare call his and his brothers names. the president is not selfish enough to make another deal with the black lords.

what kind of deal did he make with them?

edit from fox fully caught up on nightmare time and seeing the notes: IM AWARE I GOT HIS NAME WRONG I DONT THINK ABOUT THE MAYOR MUCH. OR AT ALL. SORRY YALL

#fox·borks #IMPORTANT NOTE IM CURRENTLY ON NIGHTMARE TIME EPISODE 3 #IM ONLY IN THE BEGINNINGS OF THE STORY JANES A CAR #IM DEFINITELY MISSING DETAILS #IM JUST GOING INSANE FOR NOW CAUSE THIS IS SO FUCKIN INSANE. THIS LORE IS INSANE #starkid productions #hatchetfield lore #hatchetfield

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raideneiseuthymia · 2 years

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Uncertainty

Summary: You finally confess your long harbored pining to Diluc

Warning(s): Mutual pining, confession of feelings, one curse word and mentions of anxiety and a lil crying.

Pairing(s): Diluc x GN!Reader

Word count: 1,746

A/N: Yall....tell me why this happened to me, literally this Thursday... i’m in a crisis and had to write about it because these words are swirling in my head fr. I cant escape my feeling for Diluc and the man this happened with also its kinda rushed fr like the situation happened to me irl

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You didn't know what possessed you to return home, perhaps after all these months of running from your emotions, you were finally willing to face them. Or maybe you just missed the comfort and pain of one-sided pining. In all honestly, you didn't know why you wanted to return to Mondstadt, perhaps it was the wind calling you or the dream of the man you were utterly in love with calling you home. The thought had been stuck in your head for hours, to reunite with the man you loved and for some unknown reason, you couldn't deny the yearning.

The trip back home was peaceful yet filled with anxiety. You were going to have to face all you had left behind. You were going to have to confront the feelings you had tossed aside all those months ago. You had been running for so long that going back, returning home was scary. You were basically returning to the unknown.

Your mind was constantly running, racing with thoughts. Anxiety over how Diluc would react to you being back. Would he hate you? Would he despise you for leaving all those months ago without notice? And if you returned…could you truly be around him again? Would those feelings for him be back? Would they be worse?

It felt like the wind shifted when you stepped foot on the grounds of Dawn Winery. You felt like you were suffocating but at the same time, you yearned to continue, to find Diluc. You truly didn't realize how much you missed him, not until this very moment.

“Y/n!” Adelinde yelled with enthusiasm as she opened the front doors to you. “I am so glad to see you, it's been so long.”

“Yes, it has. Maybe too long,” You joked, walking through the doors as she moved out of your way for you to enter. Your eyes scanned the area, taking in the familiarity, nothing new had changed. Except perhaps the few new scattered papers on Dilucs desk.

“I’m sorry,” She apologized, pulling you a chair out at the dining room table. “Master Diluc isn’t here right now but he should return soon, please feel free to wait here for him.”

You nodded in response, smiling at the comfort you were feeling. It was so familiar here, it felt like home.

The wait was comfortable, your anxiety was put to ease. That was until you heard the doors open and in stride Diluc, his eyes on the paper in his hands before they locked with yours. Shock and confusion were laced on his face.

“Y/n?” His tone was soft but confused he wasn't expecting you to return to Mondstadt but least of all he had not expected his home to be the first place you returned to. But to say he wasn't glad would be a lie.

“Diluc.” You got up from your spot and gave him a light hug making sure to be careful with your actions.

He pulled away from you, a smile on his face as he asked you a few questions. “When did you return? Were you waiting for me?”

“An hour ago and yes I was.”

You had left Mondstadt months ago, without a word but Diluc never reached out, for those months you wanted to reach out to him but your anxiety refused to allow that. You were running from your feelings so how could you do that if you kept in touch? That doesn't mean your decision didn't hurt.

A joking tone fell from his mouth as he light-heartedly teased you falling back to how you two used to joke with each other all the time. It was like you hadn't left and the time you did meant nothing because of the comfortability between you two. “ Is it because you wanted to talk to me? Awe, did you miss me?”

There was a long silence as you thought, trying to form a response. You wanted to be truthful but at the same time, you didn't. You didn't want him to know but you did. You wanted to spill the unfiltered truth but you didn't want to scare him away.

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to talk to you, I’ve always cared about you.” Your words were soft but uncertain, a blush burning your cheeks. You were scared he would read through your words and understand the deeper meaning. Your heart raced and your jaw clenched as you watched his eyebrow raised in question. You knew you had dug yourself a hole.

“What does that mean? As a friend? Or as something more?” He light-heartedly joked. You could tell he was intrigued, but he sure was not expecting your response. He wasn't expecting the truth to fall from your lips.

“Both, maybe.” You wanted to run away and hide, shelter yourself from the rejection you were expecting to be faced with but only more questions fell from his mouth. The atmosphere shifted almost instantly from playful to serious.

“What do you mean both?”

“I wouldn't know how to explain if I even tried,” You spoke trying your best to keep your cool. Trying not to run from the room. Trying not to run from the man you loved because some part of you needed to know if maybe this could be; if you two could be something more than a friend and if not then maybe you could finally get over him. You were trying to keep the conversation light and joke to take away from the seriousness of your words but it was not working.

His voice was soft as he spoke, “You liked me?”

There was a debate in your head. You could avoid the question but something told you not to. “I did.”

He almost looked shocked at your confession. He hadn’t seen the signs that you liked him, he had ignored them thinking there was no way but now it became clear as day.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?” His eyes were soft as he looked at you, it was almost like he knew something you didn't. A sigh fell from his lips as he covered his face with his hands, you almost felt like he was mad at you.

“Are you upset with me? Do you see me differently now? I hope I didn't ruin our friendship.” The anxiety was building up, your hands shook and tears pooled in your eyes, irrational thoughts running through your head like a tsunami. You felt like you had fucked everything up, if only you had reworded your words, you should have lied. This can't be happening, today of all days. You shakily wiped your eyes as you waited for his response but you only felt his gloved hand on your arm.

“No, No I have no reason to be upset with you,” He mumbled trying his best to form the words to talk to you. “I just wish I knew sooner–” A sigh fell from his lips as he looked you over, so many thoughts in his head. His voice was nothing more but a whisper as he finished his sentence, “–I would have gone with you. No hesitation.”

Perhaps it was the weight of his words or the way he said them that made it feel like your whole world was crashing in but at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Tears fell from your eyes as you listened to him speak. If only you had told him sooner but it was so bittersweet; it was cathartic.

He would have chased after you. He would have chased you to the center of Teyvat.

“I would have chosen you.” His hands cupped your face as he forced you to look at him, his gloved hand wiping the tears that kept spilling. “I would have asked you out…do you still have these feelings for me?”

Yes.

“I do think I still have them for you,” You spoke the partial truth. You couldn't let him know that you were in love with him. You couldn't even put into words how you truly felt about him. You had loved him from the beginning, he was always your first choice. He was always the one. In every universe, in every space in time, you would choose him. Over and over again, you would always return to him.

A small smile graced his lips at your words, he too had those feelings about you. Even before now, before you left he had fallen for you but he was afraid. The way you dodged his questions, the way you always said you didn't want to date. He assumed you didn't harbor feelings for him, he assumed you did not want to date him but he still loved you. Even after all those months of your absence.

He refrained from sending you letters, worried you'd take it as him keeping tabs on you. Worried that, perhaps, you would see through his mask and realize he was in love with you. That he cared about you.

“Good.” He wiped the tears from your cheeks as he smiled down at you. “I accept your feelings. I will admit that I have those feelings for you too, even back then. Do you think you will stay? If so I would like to nurture our feelings for each other. If that's okay with you,” He added.

His words ran through your head, the softness of them all. The unfiltered truth and the fact he would have chosen you, he would have dropped anything and everything for you. The fact that you were that important to him. You were that special.

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

You had both, in your own ways, ran from each other. The mutual pining was too much to handle, the thoughts of him not liking you back and his of you not wanting to date forcing you two apart. But it was like fate, or maybe the wind had brought you two back together. It was like some invisible force had pushed you together knowing that it was meant to be.

Yet still, you wish, you wished either of you had told the other. You two would have been together soon and it would have saved you both a lot of heartaches. But now you both knew, knew about the feelings for one another. Now you two could flame the fire between you two without the uncertainty.

#diluc x reader #diluc imagine #diluc imagines #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x you #diluc ragnivindr imagine #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc ragnvindr imagines #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #genshin imagine #genshin imagines #genshin impact x you

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rainydaylately · 2 years

Text

❥ 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣 ❥

❥ 𝙚𝙡𝙞 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 ❥

❥ author's note: HI BICHES welcome to the first fic for this page!!!! i havent many like “request here” type of post but that’ll be up soon but i will be taking request for any paul dano characters + more real soon!!! hope y’all enjoy freaks heart emoji

❥ summary: the town is a bunch of chismosos and shit talk you but who tf cares tbh, eli thinks ur moms a hoe sike ur the hoe and "cleanses" you

❥ warnings: hardcore sex *hearteyes* u also bitch slap eli sunday, fem afab reader i can also make a amab or genderneutral if yall want xoxo gossip girl

it was always a wonder to you on how the church functioned the way it did, scriptures and prayers almost yelled out enough for the heavens to hear with curious ears. definitely, there was really nothing else to do in the meek and dull town residing in scorching california. practically every day the entire town would pass into the church, praying and crying and screaming out to the man in the clouds to help them. forgive them, odd how many were yelled at. begging on their knees for forgiveness like starving dog wishing and slobbering for just a bite of meat.

perhaps it was for the better, a new look for a quaint town. church was always there and welcomed all, but you found it best to keep yourself away from the aura that nipped at you. leaving imaginary stings as it just felt, off. often, you'd walk past the church whenever you went out in town to run daily errands. politely giving sweet "hellos" and "goodbyes" before running off with your group of friends that you adored for days and nights full of gleam and laughter.

nothing grew in the deserted earth of the town, but when you were out having fun it felt like a field of tulips in bloom. standing proud and tall for the sunshine to expose their happiness.

at this age finally leaving adolescence and entering adulthood would be a grand experience, one where you would explore willingly. of course, many people liked to spread rumors about the many townsfolk going out late at night and not coming back till the next day. deeming them "wild" and "improper," funny how many of the most judgmental souls are in reality controlling hypocrites who hide behind the bible.

the older townsfolk had the biggest mouths though, coming up to you with a concerned look on their face. aged hands taking yours with their finger pads stroking against soft skin only to mask their words that wanted to dig under your skin. thick skin being the result of those snobby and back handed compliments, but the one time that your blood began to boil was the comment, "a lady like you needs to slow down, go find yourself a husband to calm you. eli sunday has yet to have a woman of his own, why don't you head by the church for him."

now, in religious practices everyone is taught not to hate, love thyself or whatever eli sunday has mentioned, but you know damn well eli sunday hated you and your guts.

well perhaps you shouldn't have called him a blind sheep leading the herd off a cliff but really that's what he was attempting to do, and successfully doing so as the herd of sheep yelled and threw insults at you. shaming and ridiculing you as you walked out of the chapel that day on an unfortunate afternoon.

but besties that, you never fancied eli sunday or try to talk to him or any of that nonsense. you had your own life and he had his own strange life following the word of a novel that has been altered generation after generation.

once the town began spreading their rumors about you, you never batted your eyelashes. whispers and murmurs whenever you passed by. words spreading like wild fire to the devil's ears, and this devil was eli sunday.

painting himself not to be nosy, he walked up to two elders in the middle of a conversation after mass.

"oh my apologizes, was i interrupting you two?" eli softly asks, like poisoned honey imitating sweetness when in secret is actually lethal.

"goodness no eli, we were just discussing about that girl running around the streets at night. [name] she is, you remember her, yes?"

he nods with a gentle bow, "yes i remember quite well actually," smugly remembering the memories of your snappy remarks as he chuckled to himself.

"that girl has been possessed by a demon," another man joined.

"oh don't be so rude, she's young!" a woman walks into the circle.

"all the more lethal!" an old man shouted.

"now now there no need to yell about this," eli raised his arms up to mellow down the crowd that assembled.

"but eli she's a devil woman!" many of the crowd agreed. conspiring numerous rumors and lies about you and what you were doing all night out.

truly, you weren't doing anything wrong. going out dancing at night, picking fun of overly drunk men at the bars as they attempted to flirt with you before practically passing out on whisky. even just running down the creek with your friends to raise the fabrics of your dresses and pants to step into the water. finding rocks to throw into the water. but alas, many of the judgmental received their kicks in tearing down others but frankly that would never happen. you'd be damned before anyone laid a hand on you.

finally returning after the eventful night, you quietly walked into your house with the scent of fresh bakery from the kitchen. a lovely morning filled with the fresh spring breeze, summer just right by and you debated how you would handle california's hell season with the blistering sun.

you walked to your mother and greeted her with a hug, asking how she was during the time you were gone. you two sat at the dinner table eating the warm pastries as she filled you with all the information.

though, her face shifted. questioning her she responded.

"i've heard about what the towns people are saying about you," she pauses whilst you set down a pastry and folded your hands, "i'm just worried about you."

"worried why? you know the town is only saying things to get some sort of kick," you reply in mostly disbelief towards your mother.

"i know honey," she caressed your hand, "and you know i want whats best for you and for nothing to every happen to you right" you nod.

"well that's why i arranged for eli sunday to have a meeting with you! nothing odd just a short session to rid anything...if anything is there at least!" her tone was laced in sweetness to not upset you. but to have eli sunday? eli sunday who's head looks too big to stand on his neck come and do what? prance around you while shouting a paragraph from the book of lies? hard pass.

it would be an absolute honor for eli sunday to rid of all the sin and evil from your body, in his mind he knew there was some sort of demon inside of you to make you refuse to attend church and choose fun over christ. reading that allowed would definitely sound strange. oh and do not read this text around any hardcore religious adults, fair warning bozos.

eli's hair neatly slicked back with his proper little suit nice and fitted as he walked to your home that evening. your mother being gone as she needed to visit one of the women in charge of fabrics, leaving you and eli alone for the session.

unamused at the knock on your front door, you did not get up from your seat on the couch to answer it. there was another knock followed by silence, then another knock.

"[flop ass name] i've come for our session," he states loud enough for someone to hear inside, "i'll just let myself in."

weirdo. he opens the door revealing you seated upon the couch. bored and not wanting to pay attention to the dressed up man who closed the door behind him.

eli only looks around your house to take in everything, the decorations and the little vase of flowers sitting on a nearby table. his dumb smile plastered on his face as he looks you down, as if to belittle you and show you that he's the one in power at the moment.

"so, your mother wanted me to have a session with you. rid any demons that may have possessed you," he begins, "it'll be simple, i'll check you for any signs and have you say a prayer with me."

"i'm thrilled," you roll your eyes and eli shoots a glare.

eli crouches in front of you with a grimace on his face, "i can already feel it."

"feel what?"

"the demon, it's here."

"how? that's ridiculous,"eli begins to spew nonsense about feeling the presence of the demon, even saying the demon has a hand wrapped around your throat to control you like some sort of puppet. once he finished explaining it grew silent, the look on his face made you laugh. a giggle at first then laughter, the so called horror and fear was all just a mask and you knew it.

"i don't understand what you find so amusing [name], i'm trying to help you," eli became upset.

"no you're not, you're only trying to make yourself look better to the town," you say, "you promise all the redemption and shout prayer after prayer but turn your back whenever an untrue rumor conspires against someone."

"that's not true-"

"yes it is." you cut him off, "it's happened to so many people in the town including me."

the tips of eli's ears began to burn red, becoming angry from your attitude problem.

"those people and you are not following the ideals that god has provided in the bible." he stated.

"to hell with your ideas," your reply to your words was a sting from his hand slapping you. enough to turn your head in shock, turning back with a smile you spoke up, "do it again."

eli's face twists with disdain in contrast with the heat that begun in his chest and up into his face, looking down at you with your smile that laced with evil he sucks in air through his teeth.

"what's wrong eli?" you ask innocently, then raise a hand to caresses his face. it's soft, who would've known.

his hands became clammy when you pushed yourself off the couch and kneeled down with eli, trailing your fingers against the top of his suit.

"you seem tense," you whisper for only eli to hear, "i can fix that."

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss against eli's lips. Shockingly, they're soft. Eli's hands become shaken, clammy as he has no idea what to do or where to put them. Only squeezing his eyes shut before slipping a glance to see your pretty face so close. His mood erratically changed from anger to shock, then to yearning once you pulled away.

Looking directly at his dumb flushed state, you laugh at him. Confused, eli opens his mouth before shutting it once more in embarrassment. A burning sensation was dusted from the tips of his ears, traveling from his face down to his chest. Only god and himself would know the heat only traveled further downward with the way you inched closer to him.

"you look so pathetic like this, but i can't help that i like it," you press another kiss against his small lips. There's no love or affection but only hunger and lust, and also inexperience on eli's behalf. It didn't matter though, he was going to become such a nice little plaything for you.

Seating him on the couch, his shirt was unbuttoned exposing the marks of sin. Dark reds and purples littered across his neck and chest creating its own painting of beauty. The evil would adore it yet the heavens above would find it disgraceful. How dare eli sunday allow this to happen? How dare eli sunday, the priest of the town, the one who everyone turned to confess there sins to was turning his back on them. How dare he quiver and shake as you undid the belt of trousers.

He was pent up and easily turned on, by the looks of it he seemed to at least turn his back on god once or twice. Wondering how he looked teary eyed and on his knees begging for mercy, it lightened you core. Building up a wetness within your panties that would later be addressed.

"[Name]..." he breaths out as if telling a deep and dark rooted secret that he was afraid god would hear.

"Yes eli?" you look up from you placement, on your knees with his cock in hand. Not yet starting anything but the simple feeling of your hand had him breathless. "Is something wrong eli?"

"No i just," he was cut off by his own voice moaning out as you lick a long, slow stipe from the bottom to the top. Taking his head first then agonizingly inching down until your nose met with his pelvis. It was so much in such a short motion that had eli mouth agape, the feeling of cumming already near when he looked down at you with your eyelashes fluttering as you looked up at him.

Pulling away, you take a breather before sinking back down. This time, bobbing only a few inches whilst you sucked him eagerly. Your hands trailed up against his thighs, using your fingernails to drag across the exposed flesh. Sure enough to leave painful scratches from the treatment. Soon enough, a hand traveled to his hip. Holding it down in attempt to stop his stuttering hips to suck him off better. The mess of spit had traveled down your chin, even dripping against the length of his cock.

With his hips still attempting to thrust themselves more into your mouth, you felt yourself gag around his cock. Going deep enough to make your eyes roll back and tears to drip along your cheeks.

"fuck i-" Eli realizes the word that left from his mouth. Your hair was tangled around his fingers before he takes another hand to cover his mouth. Thighs trembling as he begins blabbering out apologies.

"Forgive me please, forgive me for I have sinned," he kept chanting in a pathetic pitch. His moans enlaced themselves with his please before he suddenly whines as he cums in your mouth. Painting the inside of your mouth as your mouth is still around him.

Pulling your lips off of him, his cock was still rock hard and eager but he began to speak up.

"Please let me taste you," it didn't come out as a question but rather a demanded plea. You smile at him as you sat up on the couch, laying back as Eli began to remove the fabrics of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear as his hands shakily but swiftly remove them.

Eli dove between your legs like a starved man, sloppily and hungrily lapping your folds with his tongue. the warmth of his tongue was delightful and looking down at him you noticed his eyes were closed and hair disheveled. you grab a fistful of his hair in order for him to slow down, finding the movements that began to make you quiver.

as his pattern developed your breath was practically gone, gasping and sucking in the air as much as you could. your juices as well as his tongue creating the most disgusting slurping noise, though eli loved it. he moaned against you, fingernails digging into your thighs deep enough to scar little crescents like moon shining into the window. the only witness of this unholy act.

eli was so lost in your taste, not caring about anything else or whatever punishment he may receive in the future. this couldn't be a sin. no, if the act felt this good it must be from god themself.

it was adding up when eli attempted to slip a finger inside of you, slow and deep as it stretched you. not painful now, but it filled you with relief when he added a second and began pumping to find another spot. with his tongue and finger working wonders on you, you released on his mouth and he gladly cleaned you up with his tongue.

eli let his head fall back, waiting for any movement from you yet you didn't budge.

he glared, "why aren't you-" a slap was met to his face. your breathing was the only thing heard in the quiet living room. the smile to his face was turned you on even more, pulling you in to kiss you as you began your movements. sloppy and deep, hitting the spots hard whilst you were still sensitive from the previous orgasms.

maybe you still hated eli sunday, maybe it was all the pent up tension, or maybe you were the succubus sent down to drag him down to hell. no, eli did not believe there was a demon possessing you. his eyes rolled back as sweat clung to his forehead, hips meeting with yours to hit so perfectly together.

his mind was racing but also blank, not knowing what to focus his attention on. But he knew damn well his was in love with this feeling. Like he thought before this must be some godly thing that he was expierence. a spiritual awakening is what this had to be. or perhaps you were the god he prayed to each day and night, the one who he seeked forgiveness to. yes, deinfetly.

both you and eli were getting so close to your high, having no shame with the with the noises being woven into the quiet night or even the mixtures of reds and purples like a the most ethereal of paints. with the final thrust, eli had come undone beneath you. clinging onto you as you followed along shortly after. intertwined in the night for only whatever god above to judge.

#eli sunday smut #eli sunday x reader

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rinbowaman · 11 months

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Toy Story - Teaser JakexReader

Okay so an anon ask had me remembering of a teaser i started for Jakes story, but had never finished it...until now. Please also note, the title of this series has nothing to do with Pixar's animated series lol.

Warnings: MDNI18+ (no smut, but smut related things are implied) this story will have chapters that will contain smut...*ahem* just read the teaser and you'll see.

Not proofread, i just went ahead and finished this asap so i could get it out to yall since its long overdue. This takes place in the same AU as MGR/MRE/HHP and HeethanxReaden are referenced and will make appearances in future chapters. Readen will be referred to as h/n or Eden. enjoy!

With a tender kiss to your lips, all your hesitation and worries disintegrated.

“There. Better?” he inquires as he gently embraces your waistline.

“H-how…since when were you…like this?”

“Mm-well…since I was old enough to grasp and understand the concept of sex and relationships, I guess.”

You and Jake had been dating for about a month now. Having just moved here, transferring to your new college so you could be closer to him, you started to wonder if perhaps you had taken steps way too early. Yet…

‘Did I? Is it truly wrong? He’s so caring and loving to me…does that all change just because he told me his secret?”

“Jake…I don’t regret a thing…but I can’t lie to you. I’m not sure how I feel about your…your-“

“…Sexual deviance.” He softly finishes for you, after taking notice that you had a hard time completing your sentence. Laughing as he bit down on his lip, a habitual trait he commonly does, he leans in and rests his chin on top of your head.

“Yeah…I get it. Which is why I never really told anyone…but I love you. I won’t ever do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.”

Your curiosity peaked, considering that you were a virgin when you met him, he was your first, in regards to various acts of intimacy. But he didn’t display any sense of being a deviant, not one bit. In fact, he performed and conducted the act in a rather normal way, as normal as sex could get at least.

“What…um…what types of…sexual deviancy are you…like into?” you felt uncomfortable for asking, but you couldn’t like that him relaying his secret to you made you feel relaxed around him, enough to ask him such a personal question.

Moving his head back, he slightly tilts it as he looks at you before looking off to the side, tucking his lips and licking them in the process.

“Well…I definitely have a fetish…quite a few of them actually.” He scoffs a handsome smile towards you, tapping his fingertip on your nose. “I also like to touch…and be touched. I like to see you naked more than clothed, even if you’re wearing my favorite outfit. In my opinion…you look better naked and wrapped in straps of leather than you do with any one of your pretty dresses…” his voice trailed off, his smile gradually fades.

“Do I have to worry about….will you try to like…hurt me?”

Laughing, he shakes his head as he kisses your nose.

“No baby, I don’t have a pain kink. That seems to be Heeseung’s thing.”

You nodded and chuckled, what he said was true, his friend ‘Heeseung’ but whom you refer to as Ethan, his English name, definitely had a side to him that you caught a glimpse of. It the way his eyes changed, going from a wide eyed, almost like a cherub, yet they would morph into a harsh narrow shape, stabbing out a dark and deadly gaze.

Ethan was quiet, and very scary, yet, he always seemed to be tamed by his new girlfriend, H/N, the pretty girl that shares some of the same classes as you. Though they’ve only been dating for a few days, you could tell that there was a different side to Ethan ever since he started dating her. You wondered if you could have that same effect on Jake.

“So you’re not into pain?”

“Nope. Just intense pleasure and some other stuff.”

“Like…like bondage?”

Jake raised his brows in amusement at your audacious inquiry.

“Why do you ask? Do you really want to know?” he teases you before leaning in and whispering the remainder of his words into your ear. “Do you want…to be laced in leather straps…and watch me take my time in pleasing myself to you? Because if you do…I’ve got a collection…some that are fitted just for you, doll.” He peels his head back, cradling the back of your hair with his hand as he rubs your arm.

“You don’t need to worry or think too much about it. If you’re willing to….then just take your time in getting to know more about me. It’s not my intentions to scare you, I just wanted to be honest because…you make me feel a certain type of way that…it just makes me go crazy sometimes. I can’t hide it from you anymore, I want to share it with you…have you a part of it…appreciate me for the way I am.”

At times like this one, you’re reminded as to why you fell for him. He was gentle, caring, understanding, and not at all demanding or possessive like his friend Ethan.

‘How does h/n even deal with him? That man is so scary and even though he cares about her, his obsession just adds more to his intimidating aura…at least with Jake, I don’t have to worry about that. He just has…some deep sexual preferences. I suppose I can deal with that better than the traits Ethan has, though it seems like it fits H/n, being that she is happy and loves him. If she can love Ethan for who he is…then I can still love Jake for who he is.’

‘The anti-hero, eh?’

You had to hand it to h/n, for someone of her age and level of experience with life, or lack thereof for a better term, she really spoke in great wisdom. She claimed it was all through her father, since he was older and always enhanced their bond by molding her to be an open-minded person. She was so lucky to have such a figure in her life, whereas with you, you weren’t so fortunate.

Your mother was the only parental figure you’ve known, your father being absent since your birth, yet you never really cared enough to put any thought to it, until you met h/n and saw the result of what a father could do for his little girl. At least you have her to consult with…because at the end of the day, she was right, Ethan was the anti-hero, but that didn’t change Jake from remaining as the hero of your life.

Thanking h/n for her input, you remained at the library for just a bit longer before texting Jake, asking him to pick you up.

“I’m ready babe.”

“Okay doll, will be right over.”

After you got back to his frat room, he carried on with his routine habit of asking where you wanted to eat for dinner while he settles his paperwork on the desk.

“Jake?...”

“What’s up doll?”

“Could you…show me…?”

“Show you what?”

“…I took some time to think about what you said…about sharing your secret…having me become a part of it…and loving you for who you are.” You paused as you found it much harder to speak than you originally had thought.

“I am willing…I really am. It’s all new to me…but I don’t want you to hold back…love me like how you truly want to love. I’m in this for the long run…and I don’t want to lose you. I’m willing…to learn and understand all aspects of your love. So please…show me…right now.”

Tilting his head in surprise, he raises his brows and was left speechless with his mouth gawking.

“……you sure?” he asked, his words heavy with his accent as he takes a knee and submits himself before you, holding your hands.

“ you sure, doll? I don’t mind if you need more time to-“

“no…I want to. Please…show me.” You gently cut him off, eager to embrace this man fully for who he was.

Kissing you atop the tip of your nose, he looks you in the eyes before standing up.

Walking over to his closet, he pulls the door open and reaches up to grab onto something, you weren’t sure what it was since it had been wrapped in a large cloth. Setting it down for a moment, he walks over and lights the series of scented candles he had decorating his room. Reaching over by the entrance, he shuts the lights off, leaving the room illuminated by the candles alone.

‘Huh...so that’s why he has them in his room…no wonder.’

After flicking the lights off, he walks over to each window, and shuts the black satin curtains. His choice of tapestry was another indicator you didn’t give much thought about, at least not until now. The smooth shine of the fabric reeked of sexual passion, not to mention that, when paired with the dimmed candlelit room, it enumerated a sense of desire and lust in full imagery.

After shutting each curtain, he walks back over and removes the item from the cloth wrap. Turning slowly to you, he walks over, and asks you to stick out your hand, keeping the item hidden behind his back.

“We can take turns using them on each other.” He states calmly, his voice was soothing.

Reaching up, he drags the flogger against your hand, along your forearm, and up to your shoulders as he drapes it around the side of your neck.

With a soothing yet peaked tone to his voice, he answers back with a soft smile as he shifts his gaze from your eyes, to your breasts, and to your hips. Staring at his lips, you noticed the sudden appearance of a vintage piece that adorned his bottom lip.

'When did he....put that on?'

“Using 'them'?” you inquired of what he was referring to in his statement a moment ago.

Taking a pause, he leans in and kneels back down in front of you. The sensation of the protruding bone of his elbow was all you felt as he rests it on your own lap, propping his hand up and resting his chin against his palm, his nose and lips just an inch away from your face.

…….........

“My toys.”

#enha x reader #jake imagines #jake enhypen #kpop smut #jake hard hours #jake sim smut #jake x reader #jake hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #jake smut #jake scenarios #jake sim #enha #enha drabbles #jake fic

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jeonqkooks · 2 years

Note

Jen!!! Congrats on the 2k!!! And I think it’s so wholesome that you do blogiversaries. So, also, a huge congrats with that as well!

May I request a Jungkook scenario? I love me some angst, so I chose two prompts off of that list.

#12 + #22

Thank you so much! Your writings are a blessing to this world! <3

empty hands | jjk

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

rating: NC-17

genre/warnings: established relationship (?), infidelity au, mentions of sex, angst, jk cries 😔

word count: 892

note: thank you for sending in this request! and for being such a sweetheart 🥺💘 this is my first time writing a toxic/shitty reader lol so that was fun to explore even tho this is only under 1k words. i hope you like it!! (btw this is unedited but wbk, pls don’t know kill me yall)

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Leaving Jungkook speechless is something you excel at.

When you walk into a room in nothing but a pair of red lace lingerie and perch yourself on his thighs. When you push him against a wall and gaze directly into his doe eyes with a hungry look in your own irises. Honestly, Jungkook often loses all ability to form words when it comes to you.

Right now is one of those instances, but it’s different this time. You aren’t fooling around, you aren’t about to engage in a heated night tangled in the sheets together. You aren’t even in the room and you still manage to leave him dumbstruck.

When Jungkook came to your apartment after work, you were already in the shower. He didn’t mean to see it, but when your phone lit up with a message from someone whose contact is only a smiley devil emoji, curiosity got the best of him.

He must have been standing there for half an hour, unmoving and unable to process the visual and the words on your screen.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

He whirls around, not realizing that tears were streaming down his face, collecting at his chin and falling onto his shirt. He can’t think. Every single word that he has learned since birth, wiped clean at the sight of the messages on your phone.

The stranger, whom Jungkook could only associate with a purple emoji and a shirtless chest next to your half naked body in the photos attached in the text thread, obliterated Jungkook’s entire world with three words and an emoticon.

Missing you baby :)

He opens his mouth only for silence to continue enveloping the space between you and him. His throat is dry, his eyes sting too much with the burn that accompanies tears, and his heart… doesn’t seem to be there anymore. Caged in by his ribs, where it should be. No, it’s lost somewhere inside his own body, as if it’s hiding from the blow that will inevitably come when the two of you part.

Taehyung and Jimin—the people that Jungkook trusts with his life—they’ve warned him before, haven’t they? They’ve tried to talk him out of this relationship more times than he can count; they’ve told him that you were bad news, that you would only destroy him in the end, although perhaps the thrill of it—the imminent danger that he has always found excitement in—was what pushed him to pursue you.

His friends wanted the best for him, but he only wanted you.

And look where that got him?

The things you said to the other man—the pure filth that you promised you would do to him if you were there—made Jungkook sick to his stomach. You always did have a way with words, luring people in with honey dripping from your voice.

How foolish of him to think he was worth something to you. Special. Different.

It’s clear that he’s just another body to keep you warm at night. That makes him even more humiliated that you’re watching him cry.

You step closer and put a hand on his chest. “Hey, tell me what’s wrong.”

His body flinches away from your touch before his mind can even recover. He hands the phone back to you and takes a breath, as difficult of a task as it is right now.

“It was open,” he mumbles weakly, wiping the moisture from his cheeks with shaky fingers, “and I read it.”

You look at the device and at the incriminating evidence plastered on it. Your brows knit together slightly and you heave a sigh. Jungkook might even say you look a tad annoyed that he came across your secret.

“Jungkook, baby…”

A perfectly manicured hand reaches out to him again. The red on your nails looks like the blood flowing through his veins, pumping from his runaway heart to keep him alive. He used to consider it a privilege to have those hands on him, but now they only disgust him.

You bite your bottom lip as you stare at him. There isn’t even a trace of shame or guilt on your features. No string of apologies falling from your mouth, no begging for a chance to explain yourself, no nothing. You just look sorry that you were caught.

You don’t say anything as Jungkook begins to move around the room to angrily gather his belongings. There’s only the sound of clothes being hastily thrown into a suitcase. Pieces of himself that he’s left behind on purpose over the course of the past few months.

He doesn’t think he could handle a single word from your mouth even if you do decide to speak up. It’s the worst fucking feeling, like he’s only ever been the only person in this relationship and now that the illusion has been shattered, he’s the only person who will have to deal with the fallout. The consequences of his own recklessness and total disregard for his heart.

“You know,” he chokes out as he steps around you to get to the door. Jungkook meant to sound calm, but halfway through, he realizes that there’s probably no point to it. It wouldn’t help him preserve any dignity, because God knows how long you’ve been playing him like a fiddle. “All my friends told me you’d break my heart.”

— permanent taglist: @mi55delulu @fan-ati--c @highly-functioning-mitochondria @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @morauvmi @jeonjcngkook @shownusshoulders @jungkooksseuphoria @yoongukie-ff @curioughts @taegismochi @libra04 @hrts4kook @jeonsorchid @here4btsfics @mytearsriscochet @lvoekook @btsstan12 @i-dont-give-a-fok @callmejimmeo

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts angst #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #ficscafe #bangtaninn #clubzerooclock #52hertz

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we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono · 18 days

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hi potato!!! omg im not sure if we're mutual yet but i love your art a whole lot!!!!💗💗💗💗 and you're also in brba/bcs fandom too?? that's awesome!!! hiii!! do you perhaps have a brbabcs oc? I'd love to know!

(or, if you dont have, maybe you want to make it..? 👀 abby can them can be friends...)

hey there! yeah im a huge fan of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, but not really active in this fandom… i typically just lurk around, reblog and enjoy the silly memes on YouTube. if i feel inspired, i’ll just draw the characters (mostly jimmy & kim cuz im so normal about them ) and then bail. my squishy brain can't stay in one fandom for too long, it's always jumping around to another new interest. im glad you like my art ❤️ you got a beautiful drawings too!

oo your ask inspired me to create an OC for BCS/BRBA! here she is! her name is Joy

she doesn't have much details and backstory yet, but im planning to flesh her out more if im not busy with other things.

with how messed up the brbabcs world can be, figured that putting my OC as a Los Pollos Hermanos employee would fit right in. she’s also Lyle’s close friend! let’s just hope she doesn't face as much tragedy as the other characters lmao

gonna put on read more for the question about being mutuals because this post is already long ⬇️

[shaking and crying rn i hope i don’t upset anyone..]

so.. uhm im very picky about who i actually follow & follow back because i need to limit it for the sake for my dashboard. preferably id have to REALLY like and rather follow blogs that i vibe & familiar with the contents that i want to see than something… i dont really want to look at 🙏 this is just how i curate my experience

in general, i also dont feel comfortable with others dming me personal things and it feels anxiety-inducing. unless it’s a specific topic like art discussion about drawing tips, ocs design, request, art trades, collab and maybe commission

im SO SORRY 🙏 🙏 it’s nothing personal i swear, really! and im letting yall know that i will always recognize and remember all the people who consistently ✨ like and reblog ✨my stuff and you're all honorary mutuals to me even if i don't follow you back and i appreciate you all sm!!! <3 i go bounce bounce seeing everyone being super sweet in my notif

if yall interact often and you’re super nice in the notific you’re already a mutual for me! 🩷 sending me question and art suggestion never bothers me! i love to talk, get to know and interact more with people in this lovely app! :)

thanks for the question!

#thank you for taking your time sending me this lovely wholesome ask <3 i hope u have a good day #ask #🥔 potato.ask 🥔#art by me #bcs oc #brbabcs #breaking bad oc #brba oc #los pollos hermanos #fandom #drawing #doodle

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fastlikealambo · 2 years

Text

A Court Of Blood And Dreams: Vampire! Morpheus x Black Fem Reader AU

sneak peek # 1.

Sneak Peek # 2

Summary: Vampires have been out of the coffin for the last hundred years or so and after a long war, humans and immortals live in somewhat peace. The easiest way to make money is to donate blood for the rich vampires who want the real thing and after losing your job, you’re out of options.

You also neglected to read the fine print.

What you thought was a red cross watch tv while giving away a few pints of blood situation has turned into an invitation to be the human blood bag for one of the most powerful vampires in the world.

An invitation you accepted when you signed on the dotted line.

Little do you know, you’re about to marry the most powerful vampire king in the world.

Note: I need more time but I didn’t want to leave yall hanging so I hope you like another glimpse into this world :) This draws on the movie The Invitation for inspiration but you don’t have to have seen the movie to understand as this is highly AU and the lore comes from everywhere.

Though this fic is focused on morpheus x reader, the endgame is probably gonna be morpheus x reader x calliope.

Don’t forget to reblog, reply, or like this so I know if you like it!

Trigger Warnings: Murder, vampirism, roderick burgess being a sexist crotch pheasant

2011.

“The King!”

The whispers of the growing crowd fell silent as Morpheus, Vampire King of The Court of Dreaming, walked slowly to the front. He had no reason to run to the scene, the amount of blood he smelled already informed him of his human bride’s demise. There was nothing that could be done and he would not waver in front of his court.

He could not waver.

His walk ended with nearly tripping over Calliope, who held their bride in her arms. She rocked her back and forth, nearly oblivious to Morpheus’ presence until he knelt down beside his loves, both undead and dead.

“I found her like this, I tried to turn her but she was already dead. Someone did this Oneiros, someone in this room murdered her!” Calliope screamed into the crowd.

“As tragic as it is, my king, the girl probably did this to herself. Perhaps it might be best if you removed your hysterical wife from the room.” Roderick Burgess, another member of court, spoke up.

“You are a snake Roderick Burgess.” Calliope spat back, baring her fangs.

“Enough. If anyone in this court knows anything about what has occurred here tonight, you will speak now.” Morpheus said.

The room remained silent.

“Someone answer me!” Morpheus yelled.

And yet, nothing.

Despite Calliope’s pleas, Morpheus gently took his human bride from her and carried her from the room. By moonlight, he washed her body, slipped the wedding ring from her finger and into his pocket.

They buried her in her wedding gown.

As the vampire king threw a blood red rose into her grave, he came to a decision.

He would never take a human bride again.

TEN YEARS LATER.

“ Today marks the 37th anniversary of the end of The Blood War, The War That Drained The World, a time marred by death and destruction for humans and vampires alike but now we celebrate thirty seven years of peace. Don’t forget to pick up your Memorial Meal at Mcdonalds! Free for the first 50 veterans!”

The commercial fades out into the background as you fidget in your seat, picking at the threads of your sweater, trying to do the math to figure out how you could split your donor money into rent, car payment, groceries, possibly a new sweater to replace this one.

“ You can come back now sweetheart.” The nurse said, her smile failing to hide the fangs peeking through her lips. You follow her, ignoring the texts coming through your phone from your landlord whom you promised you’d pay in an hour.

This was your life since your mom died.

Dodging calls from your landlord,

Defaulting on your student loan payments,

Losing your job,

And now you’ve done the one thing you promised your mother you wouldn’t do, “donated” your blood to vampires who can afford the real thing.

“Sorry, did we just pass payroll? ” You said, confused, watching other humans pass you with checks in hand, various degrees of relief and despair on their faces.

“We’ll be stopping by there on the way out, my supervisor just wants to talk to you first, it won’t take long, I promise.” She said, not looking back and you force yourself to keep pace with her.

You don’t have the time to ponder much when the nurse pushes you forward into a poorly light office with a vampire in an ill-fitting suit awaits you, same semi-empty smile on his face, like poorly disguised hunger.

“You’re the donor I’ve been hearing about! Please take a seat, we have much to discuss.” He said.

“We do?” You didn’t want to but you sank into the plastic chair.

“We do! First, here’s your passport, we didn’t know you didn’t have one but it’s all very official, you shouldn’t have a problem in customs, the court took care of that.” The supervisor said, taking a second to stop from bustling around his office to slide a very real looking passport on the desk in front of you.

“I think there’s been a mistake, I’m here to get paid. I gave you my blood and now I’m supposed to get a check just like it said in the brochure. I have to meet my landlord so whatever this is, I’m sorry but I have to go.” You said, starting to stand up but the nurse’s extremely strong grip on your shoulder sits you right the fuck back down.

The smile never leaves the supervisor’s face but widens a bit, his fangs fully on display as he pushes a packet in front of you and flips to a page.

“You may have read the brochure, but you neglected to read the paperwork, Paragraph C Subsection 2 right above your signature. You agreed for your blood to be tested as part of your donation agreement and should the results of that test be of interest to our private clients, they are to be notified for additional donation requests. You signed, your blood was tested, and the results were astounding enough for our clients to be notified.”

“ I don’t care if you found glitter in my blood, I want my payment and I’d like to go home now. “ You said, adding some bass to your voice that begins to shake when the nurse closes the door.

“ Allow me to break this down for you: you have something rare in your blood that makes you valuable, valuable enough to warrant an invitation from a very powerful client of ours to join them at their home. You can accept the invitation and the protection and financial compensation that comes with that or you can decline that invitation.”

“I-” He puts up one finger to silence you.

“Upon a verbal decline, that protection and financial compensation is null and void, this clinic will be paid for the inconvenience and my lovely nurse and I will drain you dry to find out just what makes your blood so special. You wrote on your paperwork that you have no next of kin so no one will care what happens next but something will happen next. You have thirty five seconds to decide.”

“Are you fucking-

“Thirty four seconds now.”

Your phone kept going off in your bag, in near tandem with the beating of your heart.

This wasn’t going to stop, was it?

Even if you had managed to get the money for rent for this month, what about the next?

You had already lost so much and now your choices were die here or die possibly later.

“ I accept the invitation.”

“Excellent, King Morpheus will be most pleased.” The supervisor said, handing over the passport and tickets.

“Vampire royalty isn’t real.” You said, begrudgingly taking the passport.

“I’m sure you’ll find out when he kills you. Don’t forget to fill out the customer service survey on your way out!” You’re not so politely shoved out of the office by the nurse with no money and a passport you have no idea how they got.

“Forgot to mention, your flight leaves in one hour, boarding pass has been sent to your phone.” The supervisor pops his head out before slamming the door back in your face.

“One hour?!”

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x black reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream x calliope x reader

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