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ashersanity · 14 days

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— “SWEET LIKE NECTAR.”

— summary. because to whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. in fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it? and there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con, coaxing, anal fucking, cream-pie, nipple sucking, lots of uh.. dirty talking, I got carried away there, big brother whitney gets a taste of his own medicine, male reader turned bastard himself, the shittiest writing known to mankind. this is a continuation to the first part ‘it’s all in the family’ which you can find here. third part is here.

— word count? I freestyled that shit once again in the notes app, it is my sanctuary and you cannot take it away from me, alright?

— asher’s note. “I find that revenge is only proper and that sometimes, you need to take matters into your own hands and fuck your stupid, arrogant, big brother. balls deep.”

Moreover, you should’ve probably have expected this one measly question to slip past your older brother’s lips, leering gaze openly taking your conflicted expression in as if taunting you to properly answer. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? ‘Course not, like you could anyway. He’d see right past it like he usually does, testing the waters — he’d call it, laying out the fresh bait for your conscious little self to latch onto immediately.

Because to Whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. In fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it?

And there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

Especially to this one bastard. Too damn nosy to discreetly mind his own business, y’know? Always the one to hover too close for comfort, bated breath feathering delicately against the soft skin of your flushed ear, to keep you tightly on edge. Long past that, it’s starting to get on your nerves how self-assured he is in his flawed reasoning, simply since he had you sloppily suck him off once on the worn couch and now, it’s what? Only natural to drag you around like some sort of thoughtless puppy? Shamelessly refer to you as his trained, little bitch who’ll get on his knees for the right price?

Gotta be fucking kidding then.

It was the alcohol. Nothing, but the intoxicating substance drumming along your veins that had you act in such a debauched manner, had your painfully hard cock straining against the front of your pants. Yeah. Right? That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you keep insistently reminding yourself of despite the growing, churning heat in your stomach, the not-so-subtle twitching of your hardening cock stirring beneath your ripped jeans or the individual droplets of sweat gently trickling down the navel of your slouched back. Alright, keep fucking lying to yourself then. Surely that’ll help you with your current predicament that you’ve stuck yourself into, muddied foot deep within the shallow trenches and a solid grasp firmly placed around your ankle, threatening to snap your dignity in half.

“Well?” Visibly irritated by your lack of answer, it’s Whitney’s increasingly impatient, snappy voice that unfortunately draws you back from your spiralling calculations — whether to respond with the humiliating truth or not. Can’t let it go, can he? Hence why he so nonchalantly has you sat on his used bed, the rusted springs hidden beneath the dusty mattress alerting your every subtle movement with a distinct creak reverberating through the thin walls.

“Well, what?” Idiot, you know very damn well what he’s getting at, it’s not like you suffer from some sort of amnesiac disease to utilise cluelessness and have him fooled with such blatant tactics.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Should be wiping that snide, awful smirk that instantly appears on his face as he carelessly articulates the question once more. Shameless in his pursuit, hungrily eyeing you up and down like an untouched piece of meat to greedily feast upon, sink his pearly, white fangs into.

Oh, thank the heavens that you weren’t consuming any sort of liquid right this moment because it would’ve been shot straight out of your throat, maybe your nose even considering the absurd sentence from your very own brother — step-brother, to be exact. Still in denial that you two could potentially call each other family, far too homely of a term than the puzzling relationship you both share. Speaking of, you haven’t replied to his question yet and by the looks of it, he isn’t looking too pleased with you if you were to stretch this on any further than it should be.

“N-No, I’ve actually fucked my fair share of girls.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely believing you with that stuttering, the uncertainty all too evident in your tone that only a complete, utter moron would’ve fallen for it. Fucking liar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely lying though, having indeed fucked a girl before, but does it really count if that same person were to be your younger sister, Kylar? At most, you’ve had your decent amount of experiences with others, dated a few girls here and there which is to be acceptable for the average boy of your age. However, beyond the intimate acts of holding hands and bashful kissing, you remained oblivious to the process of well, sex — save for the over the top, raunchy porn you’d occasionally watch and that sole encounter with Kylar that taught you far more than any cheap film ever could.

So, it’s still reasonable, is it not? Though this is Whitney you’re directly dealing with and you know better than to assume he’d take plain ‘no’ for an answer, often brash in his selfish desires. No, more like every time whenever he does act, it leads up to the very same, repetitive situation you’ve familiarized yourself to. You, beneath him. You, helpless in the face of his cruel actions.

Not this time though — fuck, that nasty, little scheme of yours slowly, but ever so surely lurking within the depths of your working mind, grateful for the blonde’s clear ignorance of the shit you were ready to commit to regain that minuscule shred of dignity back. None the wiser, preferring it’d remain that way.

And he can only sharply scoff back to your half-assed attempt at muttering obvious falsehoods. Too cunning of a bastard and god, does it mess with you. “Bullshit. You think I’d believe that? Fuckin’ cmon, admit it. You’ve never really fucked a girl before, huh?” That sickening, creeping nausea steadily filling the depths of your guts from the way he so arrogantly taunts you through his ‘light-hearted’ insults, inadvertently painting you as some sort of virgin loser that never so much as had the slightest chance of growing affectionate with another woman. Fucked your goddamn sister so that’s a one-up on you, huh? Hell, you know better than to let such an obscene admission escape you — since she’s your sister now too, that innocence you so greedily stripped away that one faithful evening within the four corners of her room.

Rather not indulge in such sinful thoughts at the moment, not when your prolonged silence is only confirming his self-righteous suspicions to which he so stubbornly convinced himself of. Knowing better than to reason with your older brother, it’s merely when you do finally relent with a reluctant nod of your head — still maintaining a thin layer of deceit, mind you — that his smug grin widens considerably in return. “So you’re an unused slut, basically.” Choice of words never was the delinquent’s forte, but his crude, frank vocabulary certainly is as he so eloquently puts it. “Hah — I fuckin’ knew it. Wouldn’t be cumming so quickly if you weren’t.” He huffs back in amusement at the sight of your apparent fluster, always so damn squirmy whenever he playfully pokes fun at one of your concealed insecurities. Oh, you really don’t know the dizzying effect you have on him, do you?

The numerous nights spent lazily fisting the base of his cock underneath the woollen covers placed over his bare, sweating body to at the very least obscure his depraved actions — not that he cared much whether he was scandalously caught or not. Much so, he’d prefer if it were you to ‘coincidentally’ walk in on him mid-jerk off session, lend a helping hand to big brother and let him use you however he saw fit. Fuck, yeah. That’d aid him in his ever growing lust for you, borderline animalistic in how he addictively sought you out as expected, like a sweet, sweet drug longing to be taken. A sweet nectar freshly ripe for the taking, plucked free from the gracious buds of the tree to gratefully sink his fangs into and savour the refreshing taste lingering on his tongue.

Feels so right to defile your prudish self, doesn’t it? So, don’t blame him then. Don’t blame him when he suggests — no, coldly orders you to strip off your damn pants which prompts another gaping stare of yours to the sudden command. Handsome, but so, so clueless, aren’t you? Needs to tell you to do everything for your sluggish brain to eventually catch up to his ever approaching rhythm, cocky grin plastered onto his lips signalling that your step-brother is indeed not kidding around as per usual.

“What’re you waitin’ for? I said, strip.” It’s not a gentle reminder nor a well-intentioned push in the right direction, it’s a repeated warning of his thinly veiled frustrations peeking its way through, past the useless restraints he placed onto himself when he could easily be given what he’s wanted. Not without force, though that is in Whitney’s nature to be as rough as possible, having grown accustomed to things going his way whenever he inevitably turned to bloodied brutality. After all, the bully doubts so himself that you don’t furtively desire this all the same too, conflicted movements headed towards the leathered loop of your belt as you willingly comply as tasked to. Good boy, knew you had it in y’a.

“Do I really gotta do this?” If it weren’t for the pretty, pink flush adorning the entirety of your face right now, your older brother would’ve definitely snapped back with a snarky remark of his own, however the sight itself is enough to let him have your dumb self uselessly hope a little further. What does it look like, little brother? Has Whitney ever backtracked on his truthful words?

“Yeah, you gotta cuz’ I told you to. Now just fuckin’ do it already, slut. I don’t got all day.”

“..Fine.” Having fully predicted such a response, heavy shoulders slouching lazily in defeat from the refusal, you shyly carry on with the clumsy strip tease of yours. Can never get your way with him, can y’a?

Goddamn it, shamefully reprimanding yourself for even following suit to his harsh retort though, can you really blame yourself? He’s got you — fucking, trained you like a dog. That’s what it is, a stupid, dumb mutt that can’t help but intrinsically cave in to its depraved instincts as his rightful owner happily taught him to, mindlessly huffing and wagging its fluffy tail to the sugary sweet praise whispered to him. Conditioning you to his every whim as a promising, rewarding treat awaiting in exchange for your dutiful obedience, not bothering to keep your remaining underwear either. Big brother knows best, huh? Look at that pitiful expression etched along your features, averting gaze straying away from his piercing own that’s settled precisely on the drooling tip of your fat, twitching cock dribbling out an alarming amount of pre-cum. How you resist the underlying temptation to automatically press your legs together, denying Whitney of that upfront, perverted view of your spread thighs. So damn easy to get you riled up in a matter of seconds when a tight, warm hole is involved in the filthy equation.

As ensured, you’ll receive as you wish, pup. Only natural to fulfill what you so gravely desire when you’ve been so good so far, right? Offer you the bearing fruits of your well-earned efforts in return while you thoughtlessly salivate over the mere idea, yeah?

“Whitney, this is kinda embarrassing..” Kinda? Practically humiliating to display yourself so lewdly like this, however not as if you hadn’t experienced this rarely either in the past few weeks that steadily transpired. Should’ve grown used to it by now, actually. Still, the lingering shyness of brazenly exposing yourself like this was too much to bear at times, especially with the other’s daunting ogling. Really has to unabashedly eye-fuck you every single time or something. It’s.. somewhat flattering to be thoroughly appreciated like this despite instinctively knowing it’s out of pure, utter objectification.

Aimlessly losing yourself in the middle of your straying thoughts, it’s the recurring shuffling of fabric carelessly being thrown onto the wooden, creaking floor that draws you back to the hazy reality before you. Fuck, a wet dream is a far more suitable term with how this is stereotypically playing out, the confident, sure movements of your older brother’s calloused hands busying themselves with the hem of his waistband and — oh, he’s surely tugging his sweats down, okay. His.. fucking dick, god — how didn’t you conveniently notice how rock hard his cock was beneath that cotton thin material? Leaving you to breathlessly gawk at the free view of Whitney’s drooling tip roughly smacking against the tensed muscles of his stomach, briefly connecting strings of pre-cum to meld with his cooling sweat. Retaking that relaxed, slouched position along the single bed as if he isn’t currently stark naked in front of your unmoving eyes. That distracting to you, huh? Horny mutt.

“Like what you see, slut?” That fucking conceited tone of his makes you want to respond with anything but an affirmative yes, though through the thick lump you swallow down your throat, it’s the muted nod of your head that further serves him to grin widely in satisfaction. Wanna prove him wrong so badly, so damn so. Yet, how can you when he’s shown you all the reasons not to?

Should’ve been paying closer attention then, baby brother. How your brain immediately shuts off in a haze of confusion, numbing static prickling at your empty mind once the blonde instead settles himself comfortably onto your awaiting lap. “Fuckin’ nice seat.” Would’ve been a more comedic remark if it weren’t for the provoking press of his bare ass flush against your pulsing cock, questionably twitching in approval from the brief physical contact. Christ, get a grip on yourself, you moron but, oh — Fuck. You could just.. fucking slip it in and it wouldn’t hurt to let Whitney take the lead as predicted, greedily relish in the slippery warmth fervently welcoming you? Since at the end of the day, you’re just a man, no? A simple man with stupidly horny urges and needs to gratefully sink his cock into the nearest wet hole that merely happens to be his big brother’s whorish one.

Still, that portion of your mind beckons you to reason along with the weirdly alluring pull of plainly muttering out fuck it, shove it in and— and, do the nastiest shit possible, y’know? Yeah, you should do it. Actually, no. No way in fucking hell should you proceed with it. Uselessly humping your hips upwards with a sickening jolt that draws a relieving sigh from the both of you. Stop it, you pervert. You’ve become no better than him, have you?

“W-What’re you doing..?” Is all you can pathetically muster to his blatantly obvious actions, knowing full well what he’s truly doing. Riling you up. Teasing along the edges of your withering limits till it collapses fully onto the ground. It’s what he does best, driving you insane on the daily from school, to outside, to home and his room you frequently pay visits to at night.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m about to fuck your cute cock, pretty boy.” Pretty. Ah, that shouldn’t be your main focus with how he announces it so casually, essentially admitting he’s planning to ride you. Struggling to grasp onto the foreign concept of him, well— being on the receiving end of sex. Doesn’t he like, usually prefer to be the one in the dominant position? In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had selfishly decided to fuck your ass next, fill it to the brim with his seed. Yet, here he is, contently rubbing himself on your flushed, oozing tip, swearing gently as it barely grazes against his puckered hole, thoughtlessly clenching around practically nothing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this to stake my claim on you, alright? Not fuckin’ fair if some bitch gets to fuck your virgin dick first so, hah— I’m making you into a proper slut. My slut.”

Very convincing, Whitney. Not so much so when he’s shuddering eagerly above you like a man about to be given the slightest taste of heaven itself, namely your cock it seems. Hot. Shit, it is a pretty hot sight, you’ve gotta admit.

So, is this purely a flimsy excuse of his to fuck himself stupid on your dick? Need that much to blindly persuade you he isn’t some sort of drooling cockwhore deep down? Nice try, big brother. Well, you can effortlessly see through his nonchalant act, the barely discernible, rosy flush dusting along his cheeks confirming his secretive, depraved and filthy desires simmering deeply within his core.

“Fuckin’ — ah, help me put it in already.” The resounding gasp escaping him is so breathy, so unlike the dominant, assertive Whitney you’ve familiarized yourself with that your lethargic brain hardly registers his direct order, sounding more like a frantic plea than anything else. Put it in? The little, stuck-up bastard is having difficulty sliding it in, resorting to your aid to lend a helping hand to his futile struggles? That’s cute. The indiscernible trace of a smirk beginning to form onto your lips from his uncharacteristically submissive demeanour, still withholding a decent amount of control in this situation here. Ah, what’re you even saying? He’s given you full leverage to wreck his tight, little hole as you happily please, fuck yourself deeper in that wet warmth you’ve been subconsciously seeking out. You’re the one cupping him within the palm of your hand, oddly contented with this newfound revelation, this switch of power dynamics.

“Can’t you put it in yourself then? It’s not that hard, is it? You’re the one always wanting to do everything so I think it’s only fair you do it.” Indulging in the scowl that appears shortly on his straining features only to dissolve under another one of his tough exteriors. “Fuck, you want me to? Can’t put it in yourself, huh?” He counters snidely, grasping for the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the night dresser nearby, accompanied by barking out a sharp huff of laughter as you cuss out loud a fuck! from the cooling, sticky mixture squirted plainly onto your cock.

“Shit! That’s cold! Why’d you pour it on me? Aren’t you supposed to put it in your— y’know? Your—“ Pausing bashfully in your tracks, immaturity running so deeply you couldn’t even properly stammer out the term if you wished to.

“My what? My ass? I’m not putting that in there, I can fuck myself on your cock just fine without that crap.” Lewd. That’s so lewd how he outwardly states it, blazing face hidden behind your cupped palms as though such a gesture would make this alright, make whatever he’s doing — smoothly grinding on the tip of your lubed, quivering length, how his hole teasingly snatches onto your flushed, leaking cock head only to disappointingly let go again. Fuck, fuck — Fuck. Doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Intent on driving you mad before he even manages to shove it in.

But, as previously stated before, there’s nothing more you hate than to lose, don’t you?

Really, he should be the one blaming himself for your rash and impulsive movements, shouldn’t be letting out that surprised yelp, silenced by a high-pitched gasp as you finally have had enough of his provoking mockery to mutter out a sharp fuck it and drive your increasingly impatient cock right in. Head stupidly thrown back in sheer shock from the unfamiliar yet admittedly pleasurable sensation of having his tight, virgin hole stuffed full of your cock right about now. Clear outline of your entire length pulsing deep within him by the noticeable quivering of his toned tummy, which you don’t hesitate to firmly plant your palm against to draw another satisfying, strangled whimper past his lips. Whore.

“Ah, fucking shit— You’re so fucking tight. Relax a bit for me or I can’t move.” Might as well be snapping your dick in half from the unbearable clenching of his unused insides, warm insides that you’re pervertedly staining white with every glide of your forceful thrusts, every harsh slam of your hips against his ass. Can’t stop yourself though — God, no. Not when the addictive heat of his hole envelops you so damn fucking well, rendering you both to mindlessly cling onto each other, entangled bodies slick with hot sweat trickling steadily down the navel of your arched backs. Namely his. And oh, he really does feel so good. Never mind all the shit he’s done, the stingy tugs of his fists deep within your messied hair, urging you to fuck yourself deeper into his trembling frame. This is the sweet taste of revenge you’ll so dearly savour, hungrily imprinting every choked moan to memory for later reminiscing.

Isn’t he so cute too? Tightening fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders for proper stability, an immediate roll of his eyes to the back of his skull whenever you angle your hips to hit that overly sensitive spot that sends a sickening jolt up his spine. Bound to be leaving marks, though that’s the least of your concerns with how goddamn pretty he looks when fucked stupid, fucked utterly brainless to match the feverish haze of his glazed over eyes. “See? I think you secretly enjoy it, Whitney. I think you— hah, fuck — enjoy that I’m taking the lead for once. ‘S that it? You like havin’ my cock inside you, huh? Like it when your little brother fucks you?” No matter how many times he may blatantly refuse and deny it, through the clawing of his nails, etching bloodied scars into your back that are sure to reside in your skin later on— You fucking know by the squeeze of his slutty hole, ring of cream having nicely settled around the base of your cock. The cocky bitch loves it.

“F-Fuckin’—“ Big brother having trouble speaking? “Bastard, shut— ah! up!” The pitiful whine echoing deeply from his throat almost makes you want to cease your endless blabbering, but y’know what? Fuck that. May as well endure the severe consequences of his actions, from the second you had arrived here, it was bound to end solely in one conclusion. You, balls deep in his ass. You, stupidly drunk off the mere act of ruthlessly fucking your older brother cuz’ shit, does it feel so amazingly good. “If you keep looking at me like that, it only— hah, makes things harder for me here. God, Whitney.. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me, ‘kay?” Not really doing any better than him either, any semblance of control within you possibly thrown out the window with every pleasurable stroke of your cock being sucked so sloppily by his stretched out hole. One thing the delinquent was right about — You being the equivalent of a dumb mutt. A dumb, drooling mutt huffing over his bare chest, depraved instincts kicking in to suck on whatever happens to be nearest and that consequently leads to your dazed gaze zeroing in on his swollen nipples.

Pretty, so fucking pretty. It’s not fair.

Deserving of every torturous inch his tight hole greedily swallows up, the sight of his neglected, puffy nipples almost too much to bear for your watering mouth.

A little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it?

How careless of you to overlook such an area that so desperately needs your loving attention too. Bad little brother you are for that, huh? “Promise to make you feel so good.” Sighing out a guttural groan as the softened pad of your thumbs find home to idly flick at the erect glands, eliciting another strangled curse from the delinquent once again. Sensitive here, isn’t he? “Shit.. Every time I touch your tits here, you tighten up like crazy, hah. Want me to suck on ‘em too?” It’s more of a fervent heads up for your upcoming actions than a polite request, pink tongue curiously poking out to glide along the sheen of sweat settled thickly on the rosy buds. “M-Motherfucker.. Don’t you fuckin’ dare— hmph!” Hastily cut off by the palm of his own hand clasped upon his mouth, he can’t help but to cave in at your perverted antics, specifically that weird obsession of yours with his chest or tits as you so obscenely call ‘em. Shivering lightly at the rhythmic lapping at his nipples which is soon followed by the roll of your tongue against the sensitive flesh, fully latching onto one of them to appreciatively suckle on. The things you do to him, a full on body shock simply from having his pretty tits toyed with, his nipples coyly sucked on by the moist engulf of your warm mouth. “W—What?? Stop, ah, that!” How the fuck do you get to him like this every damn time?

And why the hell does it have to feel so fuckin’ good too?

Screw you, really.

Having managed to get past his carefully placed barriers he put upon himself, a means of protection for his fragile pride that you so selfishly tear away at. Because it’s fun to, an absolute power rush to intently observe your slutty older brother fall apart on your fat cock, split his ass open while you’re at it. Teary eyes threatening to spill free more droplets down the length of his scarlet cheeks, bitten lips oozing fresh blood from your nipping teeth and tongue to gently suckle at as a well-deserved reward. Golden locks becoming increasingly more disheveled from every bounce on your cock, the guidance of your hands locked firmly onto his hips to witness the disappearance and reemergence of your leaking tip to reach that one single spot deep inside him.

And it’s real adorable when you draw your hips further back only to be halted by the weight of his legs wrapped securely around your waist to prevent you from pulling all the way out, so stubbornly too. “Oh, want me to cum inside?” The derisive pitch of your laughter has the blonde simmering in his humiliating position, too caught up in the intoxicating pleasure of being fucked so mercilessly like this to bother uttering out a curse of denial. Fangs bared, seething glare shot solely towards you, it’s you. Of course, it’s you who has the final say, the upper hand regardless. As always. “I-I swear to fuckin’ god, if you pull out now— I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole.” He threatens as per usual, but the shaky incoherence of his speech riddled with whiny moans discredits his shitty attempt at intimidation, coaxing you to readily follow suit to his orders.

Ah, look at him. Fucking bitch in heat.

Can’t say no to that face, can you?

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway, Whitney.” You mutter out soothingly in the shell of his ear, slightly unsettled by the softening tone you’ve taken on to address him. Is it due to the pathetic appearance he’s taken on from your relentless bullying? ‘S not fair he gets to look all cute and pouty while you’re struggling to keep up here, stuttering hips clumsily humping forward to make up for the messy pace because ah— fuck, you’re nearing your fill and so is Whitney, by the looks of it. “You can’t—“ Cutting himself off in a soundless gasp as your balls heavily smack against his ass, mind gone completely blank from the sheer euphoria of having his hole filled to the brim. Can’t? Sure, he can handle just a little more, can’t he? Cmon, he can do better than that. Drool dripping freely from his parted lips for yours to plant sloppy kisses against, stifling his open moans. Drawing your hips one last time to relish in the tight warmth of his wet insides— really, you’ll miss it, fuck— you barely get to process the thick ropes of cum spurting out of his bobbing cock, accompanied by your own climax shortly after. “S-Sorry, oh my god— I’m so sorry, you feel too good. I can’t—“ You sputter out uselessly, a hollow excuse when you continue on with your sloppy thrusts, burying yourself to the hilt to shoot your thick load into. Staining his walls white with your seed since your hips can’t stop themselves from fucking your cum deeper, not till he squirms and swears at you to stop it altogether.

Alright, so maybe you did end up going a tad bit too far this time, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it. Or so you mumble to yourself to soothe your ever growing worries of where this may lead after the shortly lived, euphoric high you’ve just experienced. Nervously lifting your gaze to seek his as you’re greeted with.. ah, it seems you did fuck up. If anything, you’ve dug yourself a hole so steep you couldn’t possibly climb out of it now. Okay, he looks pissed. Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to mend things between the two of you, right? It’s as you finally muster up a foolish smile to meet his sour expression, that his frown significantly deepens in return.

“..So, uh. Did you like it?”

You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?

Should’ve probably expected this one. The shockingly loud slam of the wooden door closed shut on your face, promptly interrupting your frantic pleas and apologies. Heaps of dirty clothes thrown right into your arms for you to awkwardly pick up from the floor soon after. “Whitney, don’t be like that. Whitney, c’mon. I’m sorry—“ You’re not actually all that sorry, it’s just he looks too cute when angry, really.

“Fuck off!!”

Stubborn as ever, huh? At least, you’ve got to imprint those slutty sounds to memory for later use, having gotten your answer to leave him be for the time being. And oh, glancing down to be met with the sight of your still-hard, neglected cock tented pitifully against the front of your jeans has to be some sort of revenge for your previous animalistic actions, surely. Seriously? Didn’t you just cum too?

..Well, you’ve always got the bathroom to take care of that.

446 notes · View notes

runscold-runsdeep · 18 days

Text

Squeeze

Terzo X Omega - Dark Cardiophilia

Warnings/disclaimers: dark cardiophilia, fluff-ish, arguing, near death experience, heart failure, arithmetic heartbeat, demonic magic induced injury, Google Translate Italian for one phrase.

Word count: 800+

///Author’s note

I finally got it written!!! It’s short, and probably undeserving of a banner that took too much effort to make, but I wanted to scrub off the rust and get back into the swing of things. I’m gonna be adding a tag list to my fics from now on, so be sure to let me know if you want on!

🫀⸸⛧⸸🫀

The room was dark, the only light being the flicker of the TV displaying a horror film with Terzo scooted as close to Omega as he could, the mortal being curled up into the demon’s side. Omega enjoyed this closeness though, wrapping an arm around Terzo to keep him cozy. Despite the volume of the TV not being turned down low and Omega not having his ear pressed against Terzo's chest, he could still hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, occasionally quickening in response to the suspenseful moments in the movie.

Unable to resist the urge, Omega slid his hand down to Terzo’s chest, feeling the gentle, rhythmic beat of his heart against his palm, which made Terzo smile and lean closer to him. Despite his best efforts to concentrate on the movie playing in front of them, something about Terzo’s heart in that moment kept drawing his attention away. A sort of curiosity was nagging at him.

Ever since he was summoned and his natural talents for healing and caretaking were discovered, he found himself dedicating most of his spare time in The Ministry’s infirmary whenever he wasn’t with Ghost or alone with Terzo. The infirmary became a sort of sanctuary, a place where he could learn about the intricacies of the human body and its many ailments. However, amidst all the knowledge he was gaining, there were curiosities that lingered in his thoughts, and one of those questions kept pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. What happened if a heart was squeezed?

He tried to push this thought away once more. He would never test such a thing on his partner of all people. He would rather be sent to the ruthless hounds of Hell than to purposely hurt Terzo to answer such a ridiculous question… But at the same time, he also wanted to know how exactly Terzo’s heart specifically would react to such a thing. As he thought over this dilemma, his mind was clouded with conflict. On one hand, he felt a sense of guilt for even considering such a cruel experiment. On the other hand, curiosity gnawed at him, and whatever damage was done to his heart, he could always reverse it.

A purple light in the corner of Terzo's eye caught his attention, forcing his eyes away from the TV to look in the light's direction. Omega's hand was in a grasping position, aglow like ignited hand sanitizer. As Terzo's gaze lingered on the mysterious light, his lips parted to question Omega, but all that escaped was a wince. As Omega’s talons closed, a tightness formed in Terzo’s chest and a sharp pain began to shoot through his jaw and arm. As he felt his heart begin to stumble, his eyes widened, realizing now what Omega was doing. The sound of his pounding heart filled the room, drowning out all other noise as fear and confusion clouded his mind.

“O…Omega..!” Terzo gasped out, clutching at his chest and watching helplessly as Omega's claws tightened their grip around his heart, slowly squeezing it with his demonic powers, “Omega, s—stop!” He leaned against the ghoul, the pain and his failing heart causing his consciousness to wane.

And at once, Omega did, letting go of Terzo's heart and placing his large hand on the mortal's chest, taking in the pain he had inflicted. His own heart started to falter and ache now as he absorbed the injuries that had once belonged to Terzo.

Terzo closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he took in several deep breaths, trying to regulate his heart and his nerves before his eyes shot open, his head jerking to face his partner, glaring at him. “Tu... Tu fottuto idiota!” He exclaimed, “Wh—What the hell came over you?! You almost… you could have fucking killed me!”

Omega, who more than expected this reaction from Terzo, sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do that?” Terzo pressed his hand to his chest, as if trying to reassure himself that his heart was still beating.

Omega shrugged. “I was curious.”

“…You were curious.” Terzo repeated as he blinked at the demon, as stunned as he was furious. “You tried to kill me just to satisfy some curiosity?!”

“I mean,” Omega exhaled, pausing to choose his his words, “I wasn’t trying to kill you—“

Terzo glared at the ghoul, his white eye bearing a more intense coldness than it normally did, which made Omega cower just slightly.

“…I—I, uh… I wasn’t gonna push you that far. I was gonna stop before you reached that point. And I did.” Omega stammered, averting his gaze from Terzo’s.

Terzo huffed, shaking his head slightly as he curled back up with the demon, snuggling up against him. “Just… warn me next time you try something stupid like that.” He grumbled, “And look, I've missed a part of the movie because of you!” He complained, which forced a small chuckle from Omega as he pulled Terzo close.

“Want me to rewind it?” Omega offered, nuzzling his nose against the top of Terzo’s head.

“No, I’ll figure out what I missed later.” Terzo settled back into Omega’s hold as the ghoul draped his arm around him. Omega turned his attention back to the TV, feeling content at last even though his heart still throbbed and ached with an unsettling rhythm. He hoped that the discomfort would pass soon…

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #cardiophiliac #heartbeat #ghost bc #dark cardiophilia #rcrd's fic #terzomega

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blueysobssesions · 5 months

Text

The room was filled with the soft hum of an old vinyl record player, creating a cozy atmosphere. Leon Kennedy leaned against the wall, observing as you carefully placed the needle on the record. The room was dimly lit, with a few candles providing the only source of light.

As the familiar tune of "I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys began, Leon couldn't help but be captivated by you. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and a small smile formed on your lips. The lyrics started, and you walked towards him.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust."

You reached out, inviting him to join you, and Leon pushed himself off the wall, meeting you in the center of the room. Your hands naturally found each other, fingers intertwining as you swayed to the slow rhythm of the music.

"I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rust."

Leon's blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The weight of their missions, the constant threat of bioterrorism—all of it vanished as you moved together in a dance that spoke volumes without the need for words.

"If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the lyrics, a playful sparkle in your eyes. Leon's lips curved into a rare smile, and he gently twirled you, creating a dreamlike atmosphere in the room.

"You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours."

The chorus echoed through the room, and Leon pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you. The scent of his cologne mixed with the subtle aroma of the candles, creating a comforting cocoon for both of you.

"I wanna be yours."

The song continued, and you rested your head against Leon's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. In this moment, you both found solace in each other, a sanctuary from the chaos that awaited outside those walls.

As the final notes of the song played, the room was filled with a sense of tranquility and connection that only music and love could bring.

⤹ - Bluey here! Thank you for reading this completely >.<

➜ ┊: ( masterlist ) ᵎ ✰

#blueyheartzposts #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader

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callmemana · 1 year

Text

Rhett Abbott Fanfics: 2

Key: smut - 🌸/ fluff - 🦋 / angst - ☂️/ personal favorite - 👓/

Addic(k)ed @glodessa 🌸👓

A Change Of Heart? @glodessa 🌸👓

A Little Something Extra @mothdruid 🌸🦋👓

A Place Like This @ereardon (OC) 🌸👓

As Long As I’m Living, My Baby You’ll Be @callsign-sagittarius 🦋☂️

Alley Cats On A Rusted Roof @jungle-angel 🦋☂️👓

Baby Daddy Rhett @basiccortez 🦋☂️👓

Baby Its Cold Outside @floyd-luvr 🦋👓

Bad News At The Rodeo @glodessa ☂️👓

Burning Love @floyd-luvr 🦋☂️👓

Can’t Let Them Forget Who You Belong To @glodessa 🌸👓

Cowboy Trouble @hederasgarden 🌸☂️👓 (+Rip)

Confessing While Sleeping @bussyslayer333 🦋👓

Christmas Dinner @rebelliousstories 🦋

Christmas Tree @wildbornsiren 🦋👓

Do You Touch Yourself? @glodessa 🌸👓

Dirty Xmas Song @jungle-angel 🌸🦋👓

Drive @h0neyfire 🦋☂️👓 (tw: anxiety attacks)

Good Luck Panties @glodessa 🌸

Heading Home @a-reader-and-a-writer 🦋👓

Horsemanship @bradshawsbitch 🦋☂️👓

Hotel Sleepovers @glodessa 🌸👓

Personal Pornhub @glodessa 🌸

If Your Daddy Sees Us Like This, Sunshine @glodessa 🌸👓

Invisible @floyd-luvr 🦋☂️👓

Knockin On Heaven’s Door @undiscovered-horizon 🌸🦋👓

Kiwi @sebsxphia 🌸👓

Last Christmas @greymoonfeelings 🦋☂️👓

Lingerie Lies @glodessa 🌸🦋👓

Reconnect With Nature @twinklelilstarkey 🌸👓

Sanctuary @ghxst-heart 🦋☂️👓

Silent Falls The Winter Snow @lt-bradshaw 🌸🦋☂️👓

Stfu & Take It @glodessa 🌸👓

Shhh, You Gotta Be Quiet! @glodessa 🌸👓

Show Me The Ropes @hederasgarden 🌸👓

Still Daddy’s Little Girl @glodessa 🌸👓

Silent Night @jungle-angel 🦋👓

Transference @wyn-n-tonic 🦋☂️👓

Out In The Middle 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 @jungle-angel 🦋☂️👓

The Christmas Gift @bradshawsbaby 🦋👓

Wayfaring Strangers @sunlightmurdock 🌸👓

What Are You Doing Rhett? @glodessa 🌸👓

#rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott fic #fic rec #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott fanfic #callmemanaficrecs

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steeleidolon · 2 years

Text

watashiato

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the Plate.”

Even beyond a pressing need for caution, it would have felt wrong to disrupt the relative quiet of Sector Five with the rumble of engines, with the possible interest their presence might draw. Their roundabout route revealed that the sector itself was always a quiescent sort of village. Homes and businesses cluster together in the natural crags that survived Midgar's construction. Away from the thoroughfares and foot paths, away from the colorful kaleidoscope of maintained buildings--wheel-less transit vans and repurposed shipping containers alongside plaster, brick, concrete, and more--the piles of refuse are the same as anywhere else in Midgar.

The expansive jumble of discarded metal bleeds with the runoff of recent rains, stippling the red rock further with rust, lending a humid tang to the ubiquitous chemical sweetness of mako smog.

The area around the Church, though, is clear. Clear and silent, except for the distant rumble of industry, the settling creak of the veritable junkyard all around, and the sound of moving water somewhere unseen. The stained glass windows are intact, if dirty, illuminated from within by faint slashes of light through cracked and fallen roof tiles.

They parked nearby, tucking their bikes around the flank. The right angle of a crumbling half-wall might have marked a caretaker's home or the boundary of cathedral gardens at some point in the past. Its purpose has been lost to time, but it serves to keep the muscular machines out of sight.

“...It might not be too late or too early.”

Natural as anything, this--this moving together, in tandem on a mission. Evening to sleep to morning to gearing up to loading out, filling the short-wave communications in motorcycle helmets, keeping eyes on, ready as heartbeats, ready as breath. The skew of time is strange. It is impossible to know the exact date without approaching a newsstand or accessing other media, but they can extrapolate from billboards and other hints. Sector Seven has become a landmark. If it exists, then they are not in their own time--or at least, not where they intersected again.

‘94. ‘97. Something like that.

Here they stand on the stairs up to the imposing structure. The edifice hardly changes through the years. It bridges the gap of time, anachronistic, out of place. Motionless, inert, living, breathing. The steadiness of stone, a hushed resonance drawing those within its orbit and repelling grievous harm--even after a failed launch of a ShinRa prototype rocket from the other side of the Planet pummeled it with debris.

Riddled with scars, pocked with wounds and a dressing of ivy. A past that refuses to bow to the present, whatever present that might be.

There is no better place to lay Ifalna’s ashes to rest. Kunsel keeps an eye out while Zack works the doors open on their groaning hinges, letting more dusty light into the columned sanctuary and its carpet of lilies.

#verse: blurred [time]lines #wingsdreamt

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classico-fazbear · 1 year

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scrap baby sat outside in the rain near the old pizzeria.... by herself ...poor dear ..she had a rusted endo..... one hand was a claw..... ...

@glamrock-baby

Freddy knew it was bad idea.

He just knew, deep in his servos, that it was a bad idea.

To leave the sanctuary-his sanctuary-was guaranteed for his own misery, nothing but disaster for himself, as always. And yet, there the brown bear was in a steady yet jolted trot, far away from his defined home, taking on the marvels that humans dared to call 'fresh air' or 'nature at it's finest.' All it reminded Freddy of was the explosion of a scolding he was going to give a certain rabbit and fox for egging him on to leave the safe factory boundaries in the first place. So, that's what he decided to focus on with a rather determined scowl, the exact words he'd drill into that pair of trouble.

"To have my own little adventure..." Freddy muttered to himself in a slightly mocking tone, shaking his head slightly. "...This is the last time I listen to either of those dunderheads...!"

Suddenly, the bear froze in place. Hard. After a few moments, and with a slight snap, the bear reached his paw out in front of him, finally noticing the water droplets hitting the chestnut fur of his arm and paw pads, the liquid seeping in below.

Ah...so it was raining. How long had it been--

"Blast it all!"

Now, it was no secret that Freddy was built to last. He was living proof after all these years. But water was no friend to any character who hosted a metal endoskeleton. The bear was rather eager now to find some sort of shelter from the downpour as his blue eyes scanned the scenery around him. That's when he spotted it.

A building, just a ways ahead of him. Without a second more to let himself tick, the animatronic bear made a clunky jog towards the structure. At first, he merely moved around the outside walls of the place, neither surprised or impressed by the state of decay and even more disgusted that it reminded him of...a pizzeria.

Freddy made a noise of disgruntlement, rounding a corner, part of him determining that he'd have to get inside somehow but that noise quickly turned to that of a garbled shout of shock.

There was another animatronic. Sitting alone in the rain.

"Oh my..." The bear's ears lowered as he approached the other, it didn't take long for him to see the damage, the rust, the hook. Slowly, Freddy knelt down on one knee before Scrap Baby, a look of concern flowing over his features...he couldn't tell if she was active anymore, it saddened him greatly to think that she wasn't. "Hello? Can you...hear me? Can you...move?"

// For @glamrock-baby

#Took The Request (posted)#Freddy Fazbear #FiveNightsAtFreddys #fnaf #FNAF RP

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perfectstayz · 4 months

Text

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#holiday rentals #perfect stayz #no booking fees vacation rentals

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alethiometry · 1 year

Text

get to know a blogger // tagged by the lovely @aeide!

Share your wallpaper:

i have a dual-monitor setup where on the left is a vertical non-4k monitor (i really thought i was gonna use it more for coding but now it's just where discord / game wikis / spotify live lol) and on the right is my main monitor which is curved 4k, so i had a hell of a time finding something that works for both — but this shot of leyndell actually works beautifully because the erdtree sanctuary area fits perfectly on the left, and the rest of the city sits nicely on the right. the resolution discrepancy isn't too jarring either, which can be tricky when you're trying to make a single image flow relatively seamlessly between non-4k and 4k. i mean it's definitely not perfect, but i think it looks really really good

Last song you listened to:

"carnival of rust" by poets of the fall

Currently reading:

a memory called empire by arkady martine

the hands of the emperor by victoria goddard

Last movie:

oooooo. uhhhhhhh. i think i rewatched the princess bride relatively recently?

Last show:

yellowjackets season 2 episode 2 "edible complex" babEYYYYY

Craving:

scrambled eggs

What are you wearing right now:

pajamas

How tall are you:

5'3"

Piercings:

just the earlobes! i don't wear earrings often though

Tattoos:

a small joshua tree design thing between my shoulderblades

chrysanthemums on my left bicep

a twin peaks owl + roses on my right thigh

the girl + triceratops skull from this promo pic from jurassic world fallen kingdom on my right calf. absolute dogshit movie but i really really liked the still lol

i do want more in theory but haven't decided what of / where on my body.... maybe a shark on my ribcage idk

Glasses? Contacts?

usually contacts. glasses if i'm having a really slow/lazy morning, but i don't wear them out

Last thing you ate:

blackcurrant candy drops

Favorite color:

dark purple / red / burgundy! anything from the range of eggplant to red wine.

Current obsession:

YELLOWJACKETS!!!!!! 🐝

elder scrolls online... i want to spend my real actual hard-earned american dollars on an in-game furnished house SOOOOOO BAD... i might do the math to see how long it would hypothetically take me to earn enough monthly crowns via the eso+ subscription vs a one-time crown purchase ughhh i hate this for me but also the game is quite fun! do i know what's going on? not really! but i am vibing

these stupid blackcurrant candies that i paid jeff bezos way too much money for to ship from the uk but goddamn they're good. simpkins established 1921 finest all-natural and original travel sweets blackcurrant drops hmu babe i would shill for you on instagram in a SECOND.

Any pets:

none, but i really want a dog!

Favorite fictional character:

kassandra from ass creed odyssey :)

The last place you traveled:

catalina island! but i'm also going to chicago soon!

i am tagging: @winedark @doomcountry @ellrond @dinluke @reiverreturns @thychesters and anyone else who wants to do this!

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judjira · 2 years

Text

a rude summoning

AN: mina !!!!! ngl guys mihyun is my ult so i put a lot of thought into this one lmao sorry it took so long, also a sneak peek of the next apartment girl in line: tzuyu !

pairing: mihyun apartment au wc: 1565

“Oh no.”

Mina can feel it happening before it actually happens.

“Mina? What is wrong?”

Her bedmate turns over, concern in her eyes.

“I believe…it is happening again.”

Tzuyu furrows her eyebrows, and Mina can see her blinking wearily, before widening them in realization.

“You mean…?”

Mina nods, even though Tzuyu probably does not see it.

“…would it be alright if you informed Lady Dahyun?”

Tzuyu disappears with only the sound of flapping wings. Mina sighs once more, sitting up in bed and drifting over to the dresser in Tzuyu’s room.

It was bad enough that it had happened thrice earlier this week, but right as she was about to sleep? Did the universe really hate her that much?

"Bloody Mary.”

Oh, dear. It sounded like children this time, perhaps adolescents. Did they have nothing else to occupy their time with?

"Bloody Mary.”

What is it going to be tonight, she wonders. Three wishes? Their future? The image of their spouse?

"Bloody Mary.”

As the words are uttered the third time, Mina closes her eyes. There is a tug on her gut, like a heavy weight is pulling her down, down, down, into some unknowable void of space and time.

When she opens them, she is someplace else. Definitively not her room in the Sanctuary.

Before, it used to be in noble dressing rooms, with opulent and shining gold mirrors that were a statement of wealth and status, or in small, rusted, handheld mirrors in the most squalid of homes and slums, or even in the wilderness, in clear ponds and lakes when the moon shined just the right way.

Now, however, it is a bathroom, as it usually is these days, in one of the local condemned buildings that litter the cityside, uncared for and left to rot. A single candle is set by the sink, illuminating the dilapidated comfort room, as well as her summoner.

She used to be summoned by kings and queens and nobles that asked for her sage wisdom or prophetic counsel, or by peasants and common-folk that sought a way to better their lives, or even by witches and warlocks in the woods that desired her spectral power.

Now, however, it is a pair of teenagers, probably on some bet or dare to scare the wits off of each other, unknowing of the true meaning of the legend of Bloody Mary.

Mina sees them before they see her, and there are in fact two of them, a light pink flush over the one in front. She groans, turning to the one by her side.

“Ugh, I told you this was stupid! Ghosts aren’t real, Minjeong.”

The one behind her, only crosses her arms, pouting.

“You haven’t even asked anything! You have to ask the ghost a question, or else it won’t answer you!”

That isn’t true at all, really. Mina can answer them at any time, her presence in the bathroom obscured by her own will. These two seem interesting.

“Ugh, whatever.”

In the olden days, perhaps Mina would have felt slighted by the blatant disregard for her nature. It would have warranted a curse, maybe, on their bloodline, something about their firstborn, but now, all it does is bring about a bemused smile to Mina’s face as the the girl in front leans forward to the mirror, face set into a stern frown, cheeks still red.

“W-who’s the person I’m going to…marry?”

Ah, a classic question, then. Easy enough to answer. Usually, Mina graced these kinds of whimsical questions with the same amount of solemnity that was given, which is to say, none at all, and resorted to scaring whoever asked, but she’s at least the slightest bit curious as to the future of this girl.

Peering into the mind of the girl in front of the mirror, she learns things.

Her name is Yoo Jimin, and she is a highschool girl in her last year.

Her future is rather clearcut, as futures are nowadays. Not like in the olden times, when people barely lived up to thirty.

She’s meant to be a lawyer, and that no-nonsense attitude of hers seems to serve her well in a court of law.

As for her spouse…

Oh!

How interesting.

It seems her spouse is the very girl that goaded her into this whole ritual, a girl by the name of Kim Minjeong.

Now, that is just heartwarming.

Mina just loves these kinds of stories. They’re the ones that truly strike a chord with her, true romance between young souls.

A giggle unconsciously leaves her lips.

“D-did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“There was a laugh!”

“A laugh?”

“Yeah, it was like a woman giggling, or something!”

“Okay, I know you’re trying to scare me, Jimin, but it’s not going to work.”

“I’m serious!”

Mina stifles another laugh, their banter uplifting her mood entirely, completely forgetting her sudden summoning. She ups the ante, waving her hands.

The candle flickers, and Minjeong immediately rushes to Jimin’s side, hand grasping Jimin’s tightly.

“Okay, I believe you!”

The fear on Jimin’s face, however, is forgotten, as her cheeks heat up red, blinking down at their intertwined hands.

Mina uses this time to speak, coming out of the shadow of the mirror to stand directly where Jimin should be standing in her reflection.

"Your future spouse…”

Jimin’s head snaps up to the mirror, eyes wide and face paling.

“…is standing right next to you.”

There’s a haunted silence, for just a few moments, before a disbelieving breath comes leaves Jimin’s lips.

“R-really?”

Minjeong, on the other hand, is still scared witless as her eyes dart around the room, holding onto Jimin’s hand.

“Yes, for real! I’m scared, okay, this was just a stupid prank! Can we go home, please?!”

Jimin stands there, dumbfounded as she stares right into Mina’s eyes, ghostly images flaring in her pupils.

Then Mina winks, and multiple things happen at the same time.

The mirror cracks, the candle blows out, and the girls scream in unison.

There’s the scrambling of feet and a series of yelps as the girls stumble out of the bathroom.

“Come on, Jimin, let’s go!”

“Sh-she spoke to me! She actually—I saw her in the mirror!”

“Good for you! If you want to keep talking to her, be my guest!”

“W-wait, Minjeong, wait for me!”

Mina laughs, her night fully made as she watches the two run from the building, as quickly as they can.

Then she feels the tug on her gut again, as a familiar, sleepy voice whispers into her ear.

“Minari…come back to us.”

Mina smiles, and as cute and heartwarming as the two girls were, nothing makes her warmer than the soft call of her Lady’s voice.

“Minaaaari…Tzuyu’s worried. So am I.”

The pull of this summoning is unlike any other, not for how her ghostly body responds to it, but how her heart does, leaping and jumping in her chest as she lets herself get pulled.

“Mina…come back, please. I’m sleepy and I need my good night kisses.”

With a laugh, Mina closes her eyes, her form shifting spaces and warping through her summoning.

The next time she opens her eyes, she is in front of a dresser, in the Sanctuary. Not just any dresser, but the landlord’s dresser, in the landlord’s room.

And sitting in front of her dresser, candle lit in hand, is Lady Dahyun, eyes drooping as her head lulls forward.

“Lady Dahyun.”

Mina softly calls, heart bursting with warmth despite the natural cold her body feels in her form.

Dahyun’s eyes open, and it’s then that a lazy smile comes upon her lips.

“There you are, Minari. Where’s my kisses?”

Mina chuckles, although a quiet and familiar sadness comes upon her.

In the reflection, her form is clearly seen, body as tangible as can be, with her flowing white dress stained red with dried blood, and her long, jet black hair going down her shoulders, bangs almost completely covering her eyes. She stands next to Dahyun, smile on her face as she beholds her lover.

But in the space next to Dahyun, she is invisible, intangible, and certainly incapable of touching the Lady of the Sanctuary.

That does not stop her from leaning forward from where she is, pressing her lips against Dahyun’s head.

Dahyun should not feel anything besides a cold touch upon her temple, this she knows, but the way Dahyun smiles, lips curling up ever so slightly, almost fools Mina into believing that the gracious Lady has received her love physically, as she has always hoped to give her.

“That’s better. Now, get some rest, okay? Tzuyu’s waiting for you in your room.”

Mina bows her head, manners never leaving her.

“Very well. Good night, Lady Dahyun.”

The Lady only smiles, bright as she can despite the exhaustion so clearly evident in her eyes.

“Good night, Minari.”

Later on, Mina tucks into her bed, the allseeing eyes of the angel who’s been waiting for her taking note of the familiar slump to Mina’s form, caused by the impossibilities of her intangible body.

Pure white wings wrap around her, a soft smile upon her angel’s lips as no words need to be uttered between them. Tzuyu knows her pain.

And as she closes her eyes, Mina forgets for a moment that she is a ghost.

For how can a ghost feel the warm touch of a lover so corporeal?

#apartment au #drabble #mihyun #twice fanfic #twice fic #mina x dahyun

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