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chaconnehoonie · 15 days

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BFFS- S.JY & P.SH

♡ Sunghoon x Fem! reader x Jake

Synopsis: Your best friends show you how real men treat women.

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, threesome, cursing, Jakehoon call reader princess a lot

Smut warnings: Kissing, oral(f&m), handjobs, unprotected sex, double penetration, anal, slight manhandling, squirting, cream pie, reader maybe almost passes out, aftercare(i love)

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are like this in real life, MDNI!

A/N: This took me three days to write,, pls bear with me as I figure out my writing style. Jakehoon have me going brain dumb and I rlly needed to write this to get it out of my system, enjoy!

You slouched back in your seat, lolling your head to the side to watch the scenery as big open fields pass by quickly. Sighing in disappointment of your “girls day” gone wrong.

“Okay- what do you mean the Airbnb was cancelled? How do you even cancel one of those?” Sunghoon whines in the front seat while giving Jake directions to the nearest hotel. A real passenger princess, he is.

Jake’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, irritated at the faulty trip plan he had made for the three of you. “I don’t know.” He mutters through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t the one that canceled it. The host did, said something about a family emergency.”

Your eyes grow lazy as the sun sets, watching as the calming twilight takes over the sky. You couldn’t care any less about the Airbnb, just wanting to settle into the nearest bed and relax. So, when Jake finally pulls into the parking lot of the nearest hotel, you’re the first one to hop out of the car.

“Jesus, this place is scary.” You whisper to yourself but Sunghoon picks up on it, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “Sorry, Princess. I know this trip was supposed to be for you to relax and let go but we’re on a bit of a delay. The fun can start tomorrow.” He ruffles your hair a bit before you pull away to grab your suitcase. “Don’t even worry about it.”

He takes your suitcase in his hand while also holding his own, forearm flexing under his expensive Tiffany bracelet. “Seriously, Y/N. I’m sorry it’s not going as planned.” Jake is frowning next to you as you walk to the front desk and you shake your head at him. “Please, guys. I know you’re trying your best to make me feel better.”

You turn back to Sunghoon who is now holding your room key, ushering you to the fragile looking stairs that creak under each step. “Room 127.” He mutters out as you turn the corner, nodding his head towards the very end of a long hallway of doors.

Grabbing the key from him to run ahead of them, you open the creaky door to let them in first. “Thanks, Princess.” Jake follows behind Sunghoon through the threshold, kissing your temple in gratitude.

They both huff as they set down the luggage, immediately scanning the room to analyze your living situation. There’s two small beds with a nightstand between, an old CRT TV that probably doesn’t work, a scary painting of a cottage in a forest on the wall next to the bathroom door, and a tiny kitchen with only a small counter, mini fridge, and a table for two.

“Well,” Sunghoon sighs, plopping down onto a bed, “Let’s get comfy.” He smiles and even if this hotel is old and creepy, his grin makes you feel like you’re home. “Thank you, guys.” You’re hit with a sudden sense of sadness and guilt. “I know you guys like trips but this was so last minute because of me and I feel bad for making you guys go through this.”

Jake sits down next to Sunghoon, grabbing one of your hands to lead you to stand in front of them. “Don’t even worry about it. We planned this for you. No best friend of mine is going to get cheated on and then rot in bed for all of eternity.” Sunghoon nods in agreement, taking your other hand in his. “That’s right. We’re for lifers and I’d be an asshole to leave my bestie in the dirt just because she got a little closed off and depressed.”

You squeeze both of their hands, smiling down at their big, loving eyes. “You guys are sweet.” You feel a lump in your throat starting to form, and get suddenly too embarrassed of being emotional to be serious, “But you need to stop with the TikTok slang, I can’t take it seriously.” You joke and they both grin at your attempt to be funny, different from your recently quiet and moody personality.

“Why don’t you go take a shower and when we’re all done washing up, we can put a movie on my laptop, hm?” Sunghoon stands up and Jake follows, leading all three of you to check out the bathroom. As expected, the area is small with just a sink, toilet, and small shower. “Good thing I brought my own soaps.”

Just as you turn to grab your garment bag, a large cockroach is running across the floor and Jake is quick to step on it, hearing the loud splat as it’s squished against the tile. “Wow, I am not sleeping tonight”.

♡.

You mindlessly scroll through social media as your best friends are focused on the horror movie playing on the small screen in front of you, huddled up in a big blanket that’s covering them from head to toe, save for their eyes. All three of you are laying on your stomachs, and you’d feel them jerk and hear small squeals every now and then as they get scared, then teasing each other for being pussies which results in them rolling around on the bed trying to push each other off.

You sigh as you click on a certain story that makes your stomach drop, the video audio blasting as music plays through speakers and your screen flashes bright colorful lights while people dance and grind on each other.

“What are you doing? You’re not even watching the movie!” Jake nudges your side and you nudge him back, pushing him into Sunghoon who is laying next to him. “Yeah, we put this on for you!” Sunghoon joins in on the whining, reaching over Jake to steal your phone. “What are you looking at anyways-” He cuts himself off as he watches the video on your phone, suddenly tapping on the person’s profile. “Your ex? Seriously?”

You sink further into the bed with guilt, avoiding eye contact with the both of them as they stare at you in disbelief. “Why haven’t you blocked him yet?” Jake sounds hurt by this, maybe because you promised him you’d block the man after you left him. “I-I don’t know,” You huff, “I can’t just let go of him like that.” You watch the way Sunghoon’s jaw clenches in anger, then relaxes as he starts speaking again. “Y/N, he cheated on you. He doesn’t love you and you shouldn’t be trying to hold onto him like that anymore.” He doesn’t sound angry, but it’s serious enough to hit you where it hurts, taking a deep breath as tears start blurring your vision.

Before you have time to process it, Jake sits up and pulls you into his lap, sitting you sideways on one of his thighs. “You know he’s not trying to be rude.” He cups your face and wipes the falling tears away with his thumb. “We just want what’s best for you, and that asshole is definitely not the best.” Sunghoon hums in agreement, placing a hand on the back of your head and petting you soothingly.

“Let us show you how a real man treats his girl.” Sunghoon’s voice is low, almost a whisper and you can feel his breath on your neck. “W-what?” You sniffle, wiping any tears left on your cheek. “You heard me, babe. Let us make you feel good.” He pulls you off of Jake’s lap, laying you on the bed and kneels on one side of you as Jake kneels on the other side.

They both watch you with big, hopeful eyes, patiently waiting for your answer. You could moan just from the way they devour you with their gaze, so you decide to nod in agreement instead. Jake immediately leans down to kiss you, pressing his lips gently against yours while his hands hold your face. Sunghoon’s hands trail up your thighs and hips to hold your waist, pushing under your cropped tank top to grip your skin softly.

You moan quietly against Jake’s lips and he smiles at the way you’re easily relaxing into two pairs of hands. Sunghoon shifts lower, getting comfortable between your legs as he massages the flesh of your thighs. You moan into the kiss again, this time parting your lips slightly, but enough for Jake to slip his tongue through. At the first brush of his tongue against yours you stiffen, hands coming up to grip his hair.

Sunghoon softly squeezes your hip, grabbing your attention away from Jake and you pull away from the kiss with a string of saliva connecting your lips, blushing lightly at the vulgar image. Looking down at Sunghoon, he’s dangerously close to your core, with just your pajama bottoms and underwear in the way. “Can I take these off?” He asks softly, as if trying to make you as comfortable as possible. You whisper out a “yes” and Sunghoon smiles before pressing a kiss to your clothed thigh.

You look back up at Jake who is now groping you from over your thin tank top, watching the way your breasts squish under the weight of his palm. Your back arches slightly, pushing your chest closer to him while you pull him down for another kiss. His mouth opens as soon as your lips touch, letting you stick your tongue in and kiss him nasty enough for spit to trail down your chin and onto your neck.

Jake pulls away, kissing down your cheek to your jaw and neck, lapping at the saliva trail and sucking harshly at the joint of your neck and shoulder. Your back arches higher, grinding your hips against nothing as you realize Sunghoon has gotten your lower half completely bare. You pull your hands away from Jake and shoot up, covering yourself and blushing shyly.

“C‘mon, Princess, show me your pretty pussy.” He nips at your thigh, lightly tapping them to encourage you. Hesitantly, you spread your legs open as he stares down, licking his lips and smirking proudly. “That’s my girl.” He lifts off of his stomach to hover above you, knees on either side of you as Jake takes his spot between your legs. They moved so swiftly you almost didn’t realize that it was Sunghoon you were now kissing.

The way his lips move against yours is different than Jake, softer and less messy but just as hungry. He places his hands on your boobs, softly pinching one nipple and rolling it between his fingers. “A-ah” You whimper into his mouth, lightly biting his bottom lip and he whimpers back in response, shooting butterflies straight down to your core. Jake watches as more slick spills out of you, his cock large and heavy straining against his sweats.

He wastes no time, blowing cold air against your cunt and giving you no chance to complain about teasing as he licks a long stripe up your slit and retracts his tongue back into his mouth to hum at the taste. You shudder at the feeling of him softly kissing your clit, poking his tongue out to gently flick it against you as you press your body up and against Sunghoon.

He takes this as an invitation to continue undressing you, lifting your shirt over your head and staring holes into your chest. Before you can cover yourself again, he catches you and pins your arms above your head with one hand, while the other grabs your face, squishing your cheeks hard enough for your lips to plump up. “God, you’re beautiful.” He leans back down, kissing you softly and pulling away with a smack.

Behind him, Jake is sucking and licking every part of you he can, letting mixes of your slick and his saliva run down his chin and smear on his face. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks harshly. “Fuck- Jake, oh my god.” You moan loudly, pulling Sunghoon closer so he can kiss all over your chest, sucking dark purple and red bruises against your skin.

You assume this is what heaven is. Two hot men kissing and sucking on the most sensitive and intimate parts of you, their hands roaming all over your body to squeeze whatever they feel. You almost forgot that they’re your best friends.

Sunghoon pulls you out of your thoughts as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, softly taking it into his mouth and sucking on it desperately. This sends you over the edge, suddenly feeling too close to your orgasm that your thighs start to tingle and your breathing is unsteady. “Holy shit, g-gonna cum.” You barely have time to warn them before your thighs are closing around Jake’s head, one hand in his hair and the other in Sunghoon’s as he drools against your chest.

“That’s it, baby. Let him taste you.” Sunghoon groans into your ear, his length growing impossibly harder as you lose yourself. Jake doesn’t let go of your clit, instead going further and slipping a finger inside of you easily. “Jesus, you’re soaking.” He smiles as more slick spills out of you, wetting the bed and trailing down his forearm.

“Ah! Too much!” You whine as Jake starts curling his finger, never letting your clit leave his mouth. “It’s okay princess, have to get you prepped for us.” He adds another finger, moaning against your heat at the way he easily slips his digits in, curling them up as your hips chase the feeling.

Sunghoon takes your hand that’s in his hair and trails it down his body, landing on his hard-on. You look up at him as his eyebrows are furrowed, lip caught between his teeth as you gently palm him through his pants. “Go on, take it out.” He wiggles his hips cutely and you nod eagerly.

You fumble with his belt, having to stop a few times to moan and grind against Jake’s fingers. You finally loosen it, popping open the button and unzipping so you can tug his pants down his thighs aggressively. “Relax, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” You blush and look back up at him, and he can’t help but cup your face, using his thumb to play with your bottom lip. You stick your tongue out to lick the top of his finger and the sight is overwhelming.

He mutters a quiet “fuck” and stumbles off of the bed, pulling his jeans and boxers down before hopping back onto the bed and kneeling at your side again. You take his length in your hand, going cross eyed at how close it is to your face. He’s huge, and you’re starting to doubt your ability to please him. You inhale deeply, softly stroking him just enough to keep him content as you gather yourself.

You don’t notice the way he smiles down at you, taking in just how sexy you look holding his cock while being stuffed with Jake’s mouth and fingers. He’s never admit, however, how many times he’d jerked off imagining this situation or how many times he planned something like this with Jake.

You lean foward to kiss his bare thigh, leading a trail up to his base and up his shaft, then leaving one final kiss on his tip. He throws his head back at the soft feeling, already sensitive and ready to cum on your pretty face. Jake reaches impossibly deep inside of you and you can’t help the loud moan that escapes, warm breath fanning against Sunghoon’s length. He visibly stiffens before grabbing his cock and swiping it across your lips, coating them with shiny pre-cum.

You stick your tongue out just enough to taste him, but not enough to fit him inside your mouth and he groans at your teasing. The sound is enough to send a shock through your body, bringing you to your second orgasm. “Oh, fuckfuckfuck-“ you’re barely able to moan before Sunghoon quickly slides his cock into your mouth, forcing you to gag and choke through your orgasm.

Quickly pulling off, you take a deep breath before shoving Sunghoon back in your mouth, taking half of him down and jerking off the rest while Jake laps up the mess between your thighs. Your thighs start to shake, closing shut around Jake’s head again, attempting to shove him off of you with your free hand. Of course, he doesn’t let up and just uses his strength to force your thighs back open, this time hooking his arms around them to shove his face back in.

He aims straight for your rim, cleaning the mess that’s still leaking from your cunt. It’s a new sensation, something you haven’t tried out before, although now you’re not opposed to trying it again sometime. Who knows, maybe a second time with your best friend.

You gag loudly as Sunghoon’s hips snap and he shoves himself deeper into your mouth, but he halts when you don’t complain and instead take him deeper, testing how far you can take him until you’re reaching the base and nuzzling your nose against his patch of hair.

You breathe in through your nose to keep yourself there longer, saliva pooling in your mouth and spilling out onto your chin and down Sunghoon’s girth. “Fuck, babe, you’re nasty.” He pulls away suddenly, forcing himself out of your mouth and you get the chance to finally moan, acknowledging Jake and letting him know you haven’t forgotten about him.

How could you forget about him, with the way he laps from your soaking cunt to your rim, eating you out like he’s been starved his whole life. You even catch a glimpse of him rutting his hips against the bed, chasing any friction he can to soothe his aching cock.

“Jake” you rasp out, pulling his head up to look you in the eyes. The way his hair is messy and his eyes are wide and needy is almost enough to make you cum a third time. “You must be hurting…” you nod your head towards him, motioning to his very obvious painful boner. “Let me help.” He wants to reject you, feeling guilty after promising he’ll take care of you, why make you return the favor?

With the way you look at him with pleading eyes, though, he doesn’t hesitate to undo his sweats, pulling them straight down along with his boxers, and then reaches for the hem of his shirt to pull it off. Sunghoon does the same, using his own shirt to wipe the spit from your chin and neck.

Settling on his knees the same way Sunghoon is, he’s already breathing heavy just from imagining you touching him. So, when you take him in your hand and rub your thumb over his slit, he’s letting out a loud whine that has you craving more. You stroke Sunghoon in one hand while leaning towards Jake to take his tip in your mouth. He immediately bucks his hips forward, then pulls all the way back to apologize.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry- ahh!” You don’t care about his apology, only wanting to hear more of his needy whines as you lick from his base to tip, suckling on the head and looking up to catch his reaction. Just seeing him looking so wrecked just from a few seconds of touching has you moaning around his cock, stroking Sunghoon faster with a tight grip.

Sunghoon thrusts his hips, chasing your fist with every pull and tug, his groans and curses raising in volume each time. Meanwhile Jake’s eyes close tightly, one hand resting on the back of your head while the other holds your cheek, feeling the way it hollows as you take him down your throat. The image is far from unholy. Sitting there, taking one cock down your throat while jerking another.

Feeling bad for Sunghoon, you release Jake but continue stroking him, turning to take Sunghoon in your mouth. “Fuck, just like that. Pretty mouth knows exactly what to do, hm?” His praises make you whine, grinding your own hips down on the bed but missing any possible friction.

Of course, even after two orgasms you crave more. You need more whines and moans from both of them, showing you just how good you make them feel.

You turn back to Jake, taking his cock all the way down your throat, staying there, letting the drool spill from the corners of your mouth as tears do the same from your eyes. He’s choking out a moan, strings of curses falling upon deaf ears as you put your sole focus on getting him to finish. You know exactly what you need to do.

Pulling your head back, you gently lift his cock to stroke it as you turn your neck to lick and suck at his balls. His hips halt, thighs shaking as he grips your hair painfully rough. “God, Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” He cries out, legs continuing to shake as you take him back into your mouth, running your tongue across his slit until he’s filling your mouth with cum.

His whines seem to set something off in Sunghoon, who’s now cursing loudly as he shoots his own ropes of cum across your cheek and down your neck and chest. You don’t know why all it took was Jake to climax for him to finally cum, but maybe you’ll ask him about that another time.

They both stay kneeling, catching their breaths as you fall onto your back against the pillows, legs weak but still sticky between your thighs. “We’re not done, baby.” Jake leans down to peck your lips when he notices your worried look. Falling next to you, he lays down and pulls you on top of him, hands soothing down your sides in a comforting way.

He pulls your face down for another kiss, breaking it to speak lowly in your ear. “Want me to fuck you?” You already know you’re spilling down your thighs again, looking down to watch the way your pussy sits perfectly on his still hard length. You don’t reply, instead grinding down and forward, sliding yourself against him.

“Yeah? Think you can take it?” You’re in a trance from the way he’s speaking to you, holding you, like you’re precious to him. You nod eagerly, sitting up on your knees to rub his tip across your slit, hearing the slick noises of your arousal. Taking a deep breath, you slowly ease him into you, sitting down and wincing at the way he impales you just from a few inches.

Jake’s face is angelic, eyebrows slightly furrowed but his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, turning white at how hard he’s biting. You finally sit all the way down, feeling him twitch inside of you as you slowly rock your hips, falling forward to moan in his neck. His hands tightly grip your waist, holding you still as he pulls out then slides himself back in, throwing his head back in a loud moan.

You thrust yourself down, meeting his own thrusts halfway as he picks up the pace, low skin slapping sounds filling the room. You completely forgot that Sunghoon was behind you, until his hands are palming your butt, and his lips find their place on your back. His gentle kisses up your spine give you chills, clenching down on Jake who whimpers at the sensation.

“Think you can take both of us?” Sunghoon kisses your ear, giving you no time to respond as he stands back up to do something from behind you that you can’t see. “What?” You ask in a small voice, but it’s answered right away when you feel him spit onto the crack of your ass, saliva sliding down and coating your rim.

You try to turn around but Jake pulls you back into a harsh kiss, tongue massaging your own and pulling whines from your throat. He distracts you enough for you to forget about Sunghoon again, while he gently prods his tip at your entrance. “Hoon! What are you- ah!” You’re cut off as he easily slides in, the new sensation knocking your breath out of you.

“Ever take it in the ass, baby?” He leans down to peck your cheek, slowly inching himself in with each thrust. Once he’s fully inside, he pulls back out to the tip just to slam himself back inside. Jake takes this as the green light to also thrust into you again, bucking his hips up at the same pace as Sunghoon.

If you thought you were in heaven earlier, you wouldn’t know what to call this. This act of whatever love or lust this is. Perhaps it was just your friends’ way of declaring their love for you. Or, just trying to prove how a man should treat you, how he should fuck you. You can’t complain though, having both holes filled by big, girthy cocks is something you thought you could only dream of.

And as Jake sensually sucks on your lower lip, and Sunghoon is leaving dark hickeys on your neck, you think you might be in love. With both of them.

One particular thrust from Sunghoon has him throwing you foward and onto Jake’s chest, crying out in pleasure while his grip on your hips is painful. He leans down, keeping one hand on your hip as the other arm is crossing your chest, catching your neck between his forearm and bicep, puling you back up to kneeling with Jake still inside of your cunt.

With your back pressed to Sunghoon’s chest and his length deep inside your ass, you bounce harder, faster, both of them filling you so pleasurably you cry out, tears falling from your eyes as you scream with a horse voice. “Fuck- God, yes! I’m c-cumming!” You go silent with your jaw slack as your orgasm washes over you, every inch of your body tingling as you clench impossibly tight on both of them, with just the sound of light splashing and skin slapping keeping you conscious.

Your eyes are closed but you can feel the way Jake stops thrusting, filling you with his thick warm liquid and Sunghoon soon follows, releasing himself into your hole enough to have it dripping past your rim and back onto himself.

You collapse onto your butt next to Jake, noticing the large wet spot left on the bed covers. “Did…did I do that?” You ask shyly, blushing as Sunghoon nods and kneels next to you, pulling you to lay down with him and spooning you while you wrap one arm around Jake’s abdomen.

You feel like you’ve truly ascended, as if this is the universe’s way of rewarding you for every good deed you’ve committed. Having two warm men holding onto you, kissing you, loving you like you deserve. You’d take this any day, even if it’s with your best friends.

#enhypen smut #enhypen x female reader #park sunghoon smut #sim jaeyun smut #sunghoon smut #jake smut

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jyoongim · 2 months

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May I please request some Alastor fluff where he and reader are married in Hell, but he later finds out reader was actually married in her life before and now he keeps asking about her old husband and keeps trying to out-do him even though reader never really compared the two before?

"Oh he brought you flowers? That's nice. *Magically poofs up a whole a garden behind the hotel* I can do better though."

Obviously burning with jealousy like how dare reader get married to someone else beside him. Like ye, he died about a whole century before reader was even born but that's beside the point.

Bonus if said husband shows up later in hotel and he and reader aren't really romantically involved anymore but are good friends but Al's eye still twitches in annoyance whenever he's around.

Never mention that there was once another man in your life besides Alastor.

You were sitting in the lounge with Angel chatting. He had made a dirty joke on how you had ‘Mr. Fancy Talk’ wrapped around your finger. “What yer got a thing for older men toot?” He laughed. You glared playfully at him, admitting that you had been married to an older man when you were living. This led to you talking about your first husband.

”Wait so you tellin me that another guy got the goods before Fancypants? Ha!” You blushed, rolling your eyes. “No no I mean YES but it wasn’t a great marriage”

You gushed at how great of a husband Alastor, how attentive and caring he was towards your needs. Your first husband was a great man, but you were young when you married him and the only thing he was concerned about was you keeping the house clean, cooking, and work.

Your decent to Hell was a result of your marriage. You had felt like you weren’t the best wife and your husband didn’t really spend time with you. It really took a toll on your emotional and mental being. But you held no ill will towards the man you once married.

With Alastor you THRIVED. He made you feel loved ironic ain’t it and tended to all of your needs. Alastor gave you anything you desired.

So you thought nothing of it when you woke up to flowers and breakfast. Alastor greeted you with a soft kiss as you rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes. “Why good morning my dear! I do hope you had pleasant dreams” he beamed, setting the breakfast tray on your lap. You blinked in surprise and smiled “Oh Al you didn’t have to. I could have cooked breakfast” you said, happily opening your mouth as he fed you some fluffy pancakes.

Alastor hummed “Nonsense! You should be pampered my dear and as your HUSBAND it is my job to make sure you don’t work yourself to the bone”

You hadn’t thought anything of it.

Alastor was full of surprises and such a gentleman.

So you went about your week.

But you knew when something was bothering your husband.

”baby…what’s this?” You asked Alastor confused as you walked around your new studio. Your little nook that you dedicated to painting,writing, and other little hobbies was now a full room with a view of a newly placed garden.

Alastor just smiled “I thought you could use a bit more place. Isn’t this better? Now you can enjoy the scenery and not be crammed in a stuffy corner”

You still thought nothing of it.

until….a letter came for you in the mail.

Your ex-husband had seen an advertisement of the hotel. He saw that you were managing it and wanted to swing by to see how you were doing.

You were weary to tell Alastor, but when you told him, he just smiled at you ”Then we’ll just have to put on a good show then wont we dear?”

A show indeed.

A knock at the door reached your ears and you opened it to reveal your ex-husband. You gave him a smile and welcomed him inside.

He enveloped you into a hug, twirling you around “Well I be damned! Thought the papers were lyin’ how ya been doll?”

The lights flickered.

You laughed “Well better than the living haha. So what brings you by what have you been up too?” You ushered him to sit on the couch.

He filled you in on how he died and what he had been doing in Hell the last few decades.

You tried to catch your breathe from laughing. “So wait? You’re telling me that the whole thing was a scam? Hahahaha”

He chuckled “Yea I should have known better. You would have slapped me straight”

You nodded in agreement still giggling. He looked around “sooo a hotel for redeeming souls….how you come up with that?”

You excitedly showed him around as you briefly explained that you were just a simple manager. Helping the Princess of Hell with her dream of helping sinners who wanted to see the pearly gates.

”Actually it was my husband’s idea” You smiled.

The man gawked “Y-Ya got married again?”

You nodded happily and taking a moment “He’s here actually i can introduce-” You bumped into something…someone.

You chirped happily “Ah Alastor! I was just coming to find you”

Alastor looked the sinner over. He was NOT impressed at all.

THAT is what you were married to before? Oh honey

You definitely leveled up.

”Alastor this is *ex-husband name*” “*ex-husband name* this is Alastor”

Your ex-husband extended his hand “How’d ya do?”

Alastor gave him a sharp smile, taking his hand “Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure” he swiftly shook his hand and swiped his hand after on his jacket Alastor baby PLEASE

Your ex-husband swung a arm around your shoulders, grinning “doll face here was telling me about your fine establishment here. I am truly happy she has someone to take care of her. You truly found a gem here sir”

Alastor’s eye twitched.

In a smooth motion, Alastor grabbed your hand, pulling you to his side, looping your arm in his, giving a tight smile “I couldn’t agree more”

He walked you back into the lobby, you ex following.

”MY wife told me a lot about you. I must admit I am shocked at how much you lack” Alastor eyes narrowed on the man.

The man sweatdropped, laughing nervously “Yea I admit I wasn’t the best husband but I did care about her”

You cooed, happy your ex could admit his wrongs but still thought of you in a good light.

Alastor hummed “Surely not the best” he feigned looking at his claws.

You talked for a bit more before your ex stood up to leave.

”Well it was nice to see you but i should really get going doll”

You pouted “No its way too late, why don’t you stay we have plenty of room.”

Alastor was quick to object “now now my dear if the man NEEDS to go we shouldn’t try to stop him. He probably has better things to do” he narrowed his eyes at your ex.

Get out

”He right doll, But ill be sure to stop by again…it was nice seeing you again.”

You gave him a hug which made Alastor growled and waved him off. You closed the door and turned back to your husband with a smile. You were happy that he was on his best behavior. You had feared he would eat the man.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist, giggling

”You know you’re the best man I’ve ever met right Al” you pressed a kiss to his lips.

He hummed, lanky arms wrapped around your waist, kissing you back

“How about we head upstairs and I show you why I am the best”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor imagine #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor

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astraystayyh · 1 year

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The wedding and the morning after

inspired by that cute twitter trend :,) very soft bang chan fluff. use of wife and husband a lot but they just got married so they get a pass!!!!!

if you guys enjoy reading please leave a reblog or comment it means the world to me <3

Your wedding ceremony with Chan was a simple one. You weren't one for extravagance and neither was he. So you opted for an intimate setting, only inviting your favorite humans in there.

You felt as if everything was more vibrant that day- the colors of the flowers you both hand-picked, the smell of food that wafted through the air, the twinkling lights you had installed because they reminded Chan of your eyes (or so he insisted).

But you knew it had a lot less to do with the decorations, and more with the man you married. Being with Chan was like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

You felt grateful that you were alive because you got to experience being loved by him.

There was music, lots of laughter, and admittedly, tears. You can blame Chan's vows for it. His words rang in your ears throughout the night- how he vowed to love you until his last breath, and long after that.

But he didn't need to make those promises, they were just honorifics. Chan has shown you time and time again that he was in love with you.

You knew by the way he tore down your walls, gently, at your pace, your hand tightly clutched in his. How he deeply cared for you, on your happy days but especially on your saddest.

You and Chan weren't perfect, but you complemented each other like two halves of one heart. You found in him a home, a safe place for you to exist and be loved.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers in your ears while the both of you sway on the dance floor. You could faintly hear the cheers of the boys who were watching you, but you paid no mind to them. All you could focus on was Chan's warm hands on your waist, holding you close.

"So are you", you beam at him. When you looked at Chan, you didn't simply see his beautiful features- his brown eyes, straight nose and plump lips. You saw a warm coffee shop, where you seek refuge on a cold day; you saw a sunset slowly casting down into the sea; you saw a field of tulips stretching into the horizon.

Looking at Chan reminded you of beautiful sceneries, of the smell of earth after the rain, of a hearty soup that fills your insides when you are ill. You saw in him every beautiful feeling you've ever experienced in your life.

"I don't know how I got so lucky", he kisses your forehead gently and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on your skin.

Chan's forehead kisses held a special place in your heart. You always felt them deep within you- as if he was kissing beyond your skin and into your soul.

"I'm the lucky one", you reply, standing on your tiptoes and pecking his forehead back. Chan blushes at your gesture, eyes crinkling closed like half moons. It made your heart sore, how affected he was by your touch even after four years of dating. You liked to believe you'd be seventy and still a giggling mess around each other.

Chan then twirls you around, your laugh echoing around the venue. He thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you laugh this way for the rest of your lives.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My feet are killing me", you whine to Chan as he parks in front of your apartment. You chose not to rush into your honeymoon, because you wanted to savor the quiet after your wedding, just the two of you. And you couldn't think of a better place to do so than your apartment.

It wasn't a huge one, but it had a makeshift studio for Chan, and a little balcony where you read. You painted the walls blue together and he bought you plants that you water everyday.

It was messy at times, but it was still your home. You knew that no matter what happened throughout the day, you can leave your worries at the door and head inside into each other's safe embrace.

Chan quickly hops to your side of the car, and opens it for you. He takes your heels off, throwing them into the backseat, before scooping you up bridal style.

"I've been dying to do this on our wedding night", he giggles excitedly and you smile, loosely looping your hands around his neck.

"Well now you can, husband."

"Say it again", he smiles as he leads you up to your apartment.

"My husband", you repeat and he quickly leans down to steal a kiss.

Chan opens the door to your apartment, finally placing you on solid ground. He loosens his black tie and you lean against the wall, admiring the view.

"Like what you see?", he teases and you smile mischievously, "This is what I married you for."

"So you are only with me for my looks?", he pouts. You would have thought he looked so adorable if not for him slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"I am", you smirk and suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder. You laugh as he runs towards the bedroom, with you perched on his back.

He then gently places you down on the bed, caging your body with his arms; any hint of playfulness gone from his eyes. His gaze is so intense, you feel a blush creep up your neck. He notices, of course, and he smiles softly at you. "Is my wife getting shy on me?"

"Shut up", you glare playfully at him, and he grins, "Make me."

"You are so cheesy", you giggle as you grab his tie, pulling him down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Morning, my love", Chan smiles at you, his hand threading through your hair gently.

"Morning, honey", you smile back, stretching slightly.

"Did you sleep well?", he asks, snuggling closer to you.

"Mhm, like a baby."

"I must have tired you yesterday", he smirks and you glare playfully at him, "Cocky much?"

"And you love it."

You're about to reply when your stomach grumbles loudly. "Is my pretty wife hungry?", he teases and you bite his arm in response.

"I'll take that as a yes", he chuckles, pulling you up with him, "Let's go make you breakfast."

"Make who breakfast?" you singsong and he smiles softly at you. "Make my wife breakfast."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

You are clad in Chan's oversized t-shirt and he's only wearing a pair of black shorts. The view of Chan's back muscles is so enticing you'd almost skip breakfast if you weren't so hungry.

When you are both done cooking, you happily dig into the breakfast while recounting the weddings events- how Hyunjin and Minho got so drunk they ended up confessing their love to each other, how Felix cried during your vows, how Seungmin and Jeongin surprised you with a song cover during your first dance. You can't help but sigh contently at how simple yet loving it felt.

You then wash the dishes while Chan dries them- an easy routine you both fell into as soon as he moved in with you.

You've been married to Chan for a day but you've loved him for what feels like forever.

When the kitchen is clean, you high-five him but he doesn't let your hand go. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing you closer to him.

"I love you", he whispers as his thumb slowly caresses your palm.

"I love you more."

"Impossible."

"But-", Chan silences you with his lips on yours, and you both can't help but smile into the kiss.

When he leans away, he bows down slightly, offering you his hand, "May i have this dance?"

You giggle as you curtsy back, "Yes you may."

Chan twirls you around the kitchen and you feel light as air. You then spin him around and you almost lose your balance, but Chan is there to steady you with a gentle grip.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to look around you. The kitchen is bathed in warm, golden light, and the aroma of freshly made coffee fills the air. You can't help but wonder what you'd look like to an outsider, waltzing in the kitchen with no music on.

But as you gaze up at your husband, you don't find it in you to care. You've come to learn that with Chan, even the silence can sound like the most enchanting melody.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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Black Metal and Bourbon (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, smut, NSFW, sex & intimacy, praise kink, brief thoughts of exhibitionism, p-in-v, fingering, hand job, some sub/dom dynamics, sub!Simon for a bit, soft!Simon, property damage, bike crashes (wear helmets everyone), violence, past toxic relationship, sabotage, attempted murder, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your fingers tighten around Simon’s waist, the helmet you’d been given pressed into his shoulder as the both of you slice through wind—an engine roaring below you from the Honda Rebel 500. The fit was a tight one, Simon not having a proper second seat beside the passenger kit he’d been quick to install not a few hours before when you’d hesitantly asked for a ride into a neighboring town. Your body was directly above the back tire, and Simon had been firm in his words when he’d been adjusting the back suspension in the bustling shop.

“You’re not lettin’ go until we get there, copy? I feel your grip loosen, I’m pulling over.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, needing the high-quality art supplies a twenty-minute drive away. The stores here didn’t have what you needed, and, not owning a car as this town was entirely walkable if need be, this was your only option.

Once you’d gotten on that bike though, Simon hadn’t needed to reiterate himself about holding on—you did that all on your own. Yet, that wasn’t to say you weren’t enjoying this.

Lips peeled back into a smile, your eyes stare out across the unfolding hills and mountains in the distance; fields of verdant grasses and trees. The vibrations of the Rebel left your head jittering, but this view was the clearest you’d ever seen.

Chuckling, the driver under your rib-cranking hold blinked at the nearly missed sound, only able to tell from the movement of your chest at his spine. Simon’s sunglasses glinted over the thin sliver of flesh that would otherwise be the only piece of his face visible, and his fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the open road. The man had given you his leather jacket, taking a spare of black coloring like an all-dark cat, his boots and pants matching the theme that carries over.

You shout above the whipping of the airways.

“This is amazing!” Simon puffs a laugh at that, though his heart patters ever faster like a dog at the turn of a key. He doesn’t answer, even if his lips itch into a smirk to tell you he’s appreciating the spinal re-adjustment you’re giving him.

Your laugh echoes out through the scenery, and your heart has never been more full.

It had been a decent amount of time since Simon and the others had come into town—three weeks since you’d been hired on your off days to go and paint the mechanic’s shop. A base coat had already been applied, then the secondary and the final with the help of a very animated Soap saying that no one could get to the tops of the walls better. Gaz had seen him hit himself with the soggy paint roller not five minutes later after trying to flip it, and that had been the end of the interference on your work.

All that was left was to start the mural.

There hadn’t been a peep from Graham or his goons—they’d even left you alone on your walks back home. As much as you wanted to be elated about it, there was a brief stint of paranoia in the days that had followed the party. Graham Whitaker was a coward, but he didn’t…let things go.

But holding onto Simon Riley as he pulled into the nearby town made that sharpness at the back of your mind flee in an instant. The mountains and fields dissipate to tiny houses and long stretches of connected businesses—sun-washed bricks surround you as Simon shifts the tires to dodge potholes.

His head moves slightly to the side, and you hear the call through your borrowed helmet.

“Where am I headed?”

“East side!” You rest the bottom of the helmet on his shoulder, seeing a sliver of his October browns through his sunglasses as he rips his eyes back to the road. “Look for the rose bushes!”

“Makin’ me go deaf,” Simon mutters to himself, but he does as you instruct. Parking in the street outside of the art shop, he moves out the kickstand with one foot—the other resting on the ground so you don’t tip. He gives you a look over his shoulder to get off first as the engine cuts and the jungle of keys comes to silence inside of his pocket.

Giggling, you let go of his hard waist and step out to the concrete of the sidewalk, turning around and fixing the strap of your carry bag with a hidden grin.

“I think I just found a new form of transportation.”

“Then you can forget about it,” Simon smirks, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them to the neck of his compression shirt. “Helmet, Sunshine.” He reminds, looking around for a moment.

You slap your hands to the side of the item around your head as you continue to giggle like a child, elated and feeling the throws of wanderlust—you’d never felt so alive than when watching the world pass by at your sides. How quickly you can form a routine of boring days, one after the other. You felt…light again.

A finger grabs at the visor, flicking it up as your crinkled eyes come into view for the gruff man and his raised brow.

“You drunk?” Simon stares, tilting his head as he looms closer, studying you up and down.

“No, Brown-Eyes,” you roll your eyes teasingly, waving his hand away as you unclip and pop the helmet off before it’s leveled back to him. He takes it and holds it loosely in one grip, blinking at you slowly. “I’m excited. Can I not be excited, then, huh? Not happy seeing me enjoy your company?”

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” Simon shakes his head but his amusement is heard, slipping past as you eagerly follow after, expression airy.

You hum, leaning into him and smirking.

“C’mon Simon, you’re completely taken with me—I can see it.” There was no question that the two of you had become close. There was rarely a night when he didn’t come to visit you at the bar; had even taken up walking you back home too, though there was little need to. Simon had said it was because he had nothing else to do, but you doubted it. Since the shop had opened, there had been no shortage of work.

The man grunts as he opens the door for you with a shoulder, sending you a blank eye. “Taken aback.”

“Fucking jerk,” you grin at him as you slip inside, face loose with banter. Simon chuckles lowly and follows, standing behind you as his boots clop to polished tile floors.

This place was exactly how you remembered it—holding an old feel with the beams in the ceiling and the raw brick walls. There are tables with paints and brushes, all neat and orderly with unique looks and designs to them, even the wall has shelves of old wood holding hidden nicknacks and unique wonders.

Simon gazes around with a glint of interest in his eye, understanding now that the painting was better off in your hands. He has to wonder how you managed to find a place like this.

“Over here,” you say. Walking to the very back, your hands are already reaching for the quality brushes you’d need for the mural. Simon’s hands slip into his pockets, stance casual in a way he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago.

It was no secret that Simon trusted very few people. It wasn’t just because of his past military experience, it was his life in general—each turn led to something that could go wrong like a gun in the hands of a criminal. But you had been nearly sly in the way you’d grown on him.

The quick-witted comments, the way you spoke and carried yourself; your light and unapologetic attitude. He was ashamed to admit how many times he’d stared at the bar from his shop’s garage—under the body of some car with grease up to his elbows, legs dangling as his back was on top of the creeper. Brown eyes that can pinpoint your form before his mind blanks and sweat pools at his collarbone.

It was something that Simon was afraid to name.

“Bloody expensive,” the man mutters in the present, fingers pushing at the price tag of some paints nearby. “You sure you need this shit?”

“It’s not shit, Riley,” you scoff, grabbing two large brushes and three smaller ones from wall buckets, pointing one at him. “But I have to agree on the expensive part. You should see how much I would spend when I was really into art. You’d puke your blackened guts up.”

Simon hums, giving you his attention as you peer at a table of rich paints in smaller cans a few feet away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks, the soft tinkling of piano music coming from somewhere in the back.

You pause, your back turned to him as you look at the label of a small aluminum container of enamel paint for vehicle detailing. Licking your lips, you clear your throat and ease out a nonchalant, “Graham,” and end the conversation there with less blood spilled.

Your Ex had almost sucked all of the individuality from you—you’d barely made it out as you are.

Simon’s eyes darken, clenching his jaw after a moment as looks away. It's only when you put back down the enamel paint can that he speaks again.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” he eases out, giving firm advice like orders. As if he wants you to believe what he’s saying to the fullest degree. “You know that?”

You snort, turning back around. “Yeah, I know it. Why do you think I threw the guy out? He ran through women like a damn kid with a stack of new playing cards.”

Simon blinks from over his mask as you walk to the counter, putting down your brushes and adding in a few containers of nice pigment. As your fingers ding the bell up front, your free hand digs for your wallet.

Before you can pull out the wads of cash that you’d need to pay, smelling of booze and all, a credit card hits the table. You stare at it in silence for a moment.

“Simon?”

“You’re putting it on my wall,” he rolls his shoulders to dispel tension from the previous conversion as the employee comes out from the back. “M’not going to make you pay for the tools to get the job done. Not a fuckin’ heartless bastard.”

“Heartless? No,” you tease, though your face burns and crashes with a fiery inferno of adoration. Inside of you, your stomach flips and your throat tightens. Oh, it was coming on bad, wasn't it? “A bastard…?”

“Shut it,” Simon glares from the corner of his eye as you raise your hands innocently.

“Alright, alright. A very handsome and generous bastard, better?” You hear a hum, a huff of breath.

“Getting there.”

The ride back was much the same, but it still filled you with awe. Your hands were looser now, even with the added weight from your filled bag, but that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of Simon’s presence. Once more your helmeted head was set at his shoulder blade, resting as your lungs pulled in fresh air even if it was a bit heated from the barrier. Simon had pushed the thing back onto your head the minute your leg was about to straddle the bike, firmly grabbing your chin and tilting your face forward as he shoved it on.

“Safety first, Sweetheart.” You had sworn you nearly went weak-kneed at that.

But the sturdy presence before you made a very comfortable headrest even if the longer ride was beginning to make your legs ache and give you a migraine from the noise.

Your hand was flat to the man’s covered flesh, the oversized jacket around your frame, and in that moment you discovered that you were almost entirely submerged in Simon Riley until it became impossible to remember who you’d been before him. You were drowned in his scent—his presence an ever-present weight of purpose and prospect.

Blinking over the view and feeling Simon’s pulse under your fingertips, you realize with a start that Graham had never made your stomach fill with butterflies over a simple word; never made you pause or have to re-think your thoughts because you’d entirely lost them when he entered a room.

With so much going on, and at the same time so little happening…what exactly were you supposed to make of it? There was no question you liked Simon—there was no question he liked you, either. It was obvious by the looks Price would give the two of you when you came by with lunch for them all; free drinks.

How the both of you would sit and talk, exchanging stories while Simon showed you the adjustments he had made to his bike. The issue was that you and Brown-Eyes were stubborn. Pigheaded.

Emotionally constipated.

Your eyes drag along the view, but they always shift back to the body that’s stuck in your grip; how his heat moved through his clothes, warming your wind-beaten hands. You’re right there at his back, hanging off him and you feel…good.

There just had to be something to make one of you snap.

Entering the garage, Simon once more parks his bike and lets you get off first, and you unclip your helmet and slip the object from your head with a puff of air.

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathe, watching him stand. “Drinks on me tonight, okay?”

“No need for that,” his brows pull in, confused. “If I didn’t want to, I would have told you.”

Your hands pass the helmet, which he takes as your fingers brush one another's lightly. You repress a sharp inhale, scoffing playfully at him as your eyes soften.

“I’m not going to leave without saying thank you and you taking it, Brown-Eyes.”

“Well, then I just took it, Sunshine.” Simon motions his head outside. “Now get going ‘fore I come to my senses.”

Laughing, you shrug and take your leave, all of your items safe in your bag for a time when you could use them next.

“I’m already gone,” you breathe, and a soft brown gaze sticks to your form as you cross the street and slip inside to clock in.

A truck parked down the street has its window glinting in the sunlight. It seems to agree.

—

Simon tipped back the last of his bourbon and sighed, putting it down on the bar top as you polished glasses.

“Anything happen today?” He asks you as you put the sparking material to the light, tipping it to try and find smudges before it passes your acute inspection.

“Nothing interesting,” you respond, humming. “Had to kick a few guys out, but it was nothing big.”

Simon’s interest makes his eyes shift to you like a wave, head tilting to stare as the warm light cascades over your figure. He waits for you to continue, but when you don’t, he prods with a slightly concerned undertone.

“Why?” Your lips twitch as you turn to look at him, exasperated.

“Put a cork in it, Big Guy, it was just a few who had too much to drink—I cut them off and sent ‘em home.”

Simon grunts, “That’s a girl.”

You ignore the way your heart jumps to your throat and the tingling of your arms. “Anything with you?” Your voice is higher than it should be. “Beat off any bartenders from your property?”

“Can only think ‘o one,” he speaks slowly, his voice wafting about as the both of you were the only people here. Your chuckle makes his heart constrict in on itself.

“Oh,” you tease, face pulling in with mock confusion. Your body moves closer as it leans into the wood. Simon’s lips twitch from where they're visible, the fabric of his balaclava pulled over his nose. “Tell me about her.”

“Yeah?” He speaks in a low murmur, eyes half-lidded in that dead-and-buried kind of way—only he could pull that off and still look so handsome. You had said once that he felt like danger, and you suppose that had to be true. Simon Riley was danger, and you had taken those snake fangs and put them directly in between the cross-hairs of your neck and your pulse, waiting, wanting for that fatal strike.

You had bet that the sting of those fangs might just be the best pain you’d ever felt.

Simon Riley was unabashed freedom.

“She likes to think that she’s the bloody boss o’ me,” Simon grunts, scars, and tattoos on full display; there’s blackened grease on his fingers, under his nails. You listen with bated breath. “Comes ‘round all the time now, hangs like she’s under a noose. I can’t figure her out. Not for the fuckin’ life of me.”

Simon doesn't know what he’s saying, but he can’t quite help himself when you’re looking at him like that. Your eyes going wider, your usually snappy and quick tongue silent as you take his words in like law. It was addictive to see you gobsmacked—the man has to stop himself from thanking Graham Whitaker for being such a fucking fool even if the thought of ever being near that man again made him want to clench his fists.

“And?” You push, trying to force your mouth into a playful smirk, but anyone can see it for what it is. Your faked emotion falls short, leaving behind only that which Simon can claim to be the sole owner of.

Astonishment. Admiration down to its base form—a woman gazing at something that should not be, and yet is here among the ashes and ruins of broken earth and open roads. A sliver of sky between the rain clouds.

“And?” Simon mirrors, that numb mock.

The both of you are closer now, puffs of air hitting the other. Everything in this bar became a backdrop, shifting colors and images like some dream. The dart in the ceiling was nothing to you—the tables that needed to be buffed, the bottles restocked; even the trash that you usually took out at this time was only a shape in the corner of your vision. It all blurred around him, and while you spoke again, Simon understood that he had left the city for something new; something that he could revel in and worship like he had his guns and his duty.

Your sentence is whispered.

“Why did you come here?” To this town? There was no answer for that. It was picked at random—even Price knew that. It was nothing special, not even to the bugs. But here…

Simon parts his lips and utters on the lightning of the air particles, all rushing past as if he was still on his motorcycle with you—your hands around his waist and your nails digging into his flesh.

“For a bartender that keeps making my damn head spin.”

For a long minute, there’s nothing that happens. The AC whirs and the lights outside flicker over the stretch of the empty street. In your chest, your heart hammers with the strength of the Titans. A mechanic, a veteran; a man with broken, October eyes.

How could he be the one thing you were looking for?

Your eyes stay locked, those shredded flecks of color holding secrets that you want to know instantly—you want to learn his tattoos and the way he thinks, know Simon's dreams and aspirations. To you, that was better than any physical destination or journey because it was one in and of itself.

Simon was an enigma.

“Keep talking,” you mutter, lips so close now that they brush the man’s own. He doesn’t blink as he watches you, his lungs unsteady in his chest as he takes down a deep breath.

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” His voice is raspy, and his accent makes you shiver.

Simon’s tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, sneaking back in as your gaze flickers down to watch pupils blown. “Because I like it when you speak to me like that,” you have to admit, a whine trapped in your throat that you won’t let out.

There’s a low chuckle that makes your legs close together, moving like honey through your veins.

“Can do more than talk.”

This is a game—a test—can either of you go this far? Is it more than lust, is it more than some strange attraction between two people who don’t belong here? A relationship of need rather than want?

You don’t care enough to test it, because if there’s one thing that this town taught you, it's that you don’t need to worry about the future so long as there’s something promising right in front of you.

And Simon Riley was as promising of a man as you had ever met.

Your lips meet his, and his hand is eager to snap to the back of your skull, pushing you into him as your eyes pull shut and the edge of the counter digs into your guts. Air is exhaled from your nose, mouth heavy, and skin hot as it digs and molds to the rough scrape of Simon’s stubble. His fingers pulse into your scalp, waves of something sawing you open as he stands quickly from his stool and pulls away only to push right back in.

Your hands move into fists on the counter, stuck in this dance of wet lips and shaky legs.

Simon groans into your mouth, shifting his head as a purr emanates from his chest and makes you respond with a silent gasp that he takes advantage of. A tongue slips to run over your own as the lights glint outside, pushing itself in before retreating just as swiftly before teeth nip at your swollen bottom lip. Your eyes snap open, locking with deep wells of brown that seem more endless than the depths of space.

You both breathe heavily, the bar silent to the two souls that seep into one another. Not once do either of you look away from one another.

The man seems hesitant, and before he speaks, the rasp in his voice is felt as he blinks.

“These parts in me have been shuttin’ down, Sunshine.” Your brows slightly pinch in for a moment, confused at this turn in tone—cocky had gone to still-stone as if Simon had laid eyes on Medusa herself.

But you know what he means. You’d seen it in his stature and how he spoke to others; you knew nothing much of his past beyond a handful of stories from his service and none of them had been pretty. And of his childhood, you knew nothing.

You know it can’t have been good.

Your head softly tilts, a small, delicate smile forming the words of some long-lost deity.

“I’m sure you have the tools to fix them, Simon.”

He blinks at you, fingers still stuck to your head. “Don’t know if I remember how to use ‘em.”

Simon’s giving you a way out of this if you want to take it; you know that he thinks you should.

“...Then you’ll just have to teach me, won’t you?” You whisper, stubborn as always. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets, right?” He hums, eyes the most open and soft you’d ever seen them as he melts—forehead connecting to yours as your smile grows wider, truer. “Then I’ll keep yours closest, Brown-Eyes.”

You both kiss once more, more delicate as the man takes a deep breath of you. Your smirk pulls along his flesh like a brand as he holds in a quiver.

“What’s a bartender without a bottle of Bourbon on her shelf?” He growls into you, and not wasting a moment rips his lips from yours and wipes at his face with the back of his arm.

“Such a mouth,” he mutters, moving as you stand there to push open the half-door to let him get to you. You stand waiting, pulse wild and lips tingling. “Cameras?”

Your head shakes without you knowing it, and a finger is hooked under your chin, maneuvering it as he sees fit. Another grabs onto your hip, kneading it slowly as you melt into him. Your hands grasp into the back of his belt and his eyes spark—hips canting instinctually.

There’s a hard prod at your inner thigh.

“Only one at the door.” You set your chin to his chest, gazing up. “Back room?”

“Won't have you on the floor,” Simon says bluntly, unphased. Your core pounds, stomach tightens as you have a sudden need to get rid of your pants and touch yourself as dampness pools through your underwear.

“Such a gentleman,” you’re breathless, voice airy. “Guess I’ll have to be on top.”

Simon’s breath gets caught as you slip past him, sauntering to the back door and pushing it open as you slip inside. You had already started fumbling with the zipped on your pants as the man pushed on the barrier just before it could close, coming in and letting it slam behind him as the click of a lock could be heard.

With your shoes off, you can feel Simon’s eyes burning into you as your fingers send the zipper down your navel, the sound of the metal teeth being separated from one another a call to action. When your thumbs hook the top, ready to send the fabric down, you let the man watch before your eyes shift back up to lock together.

Simon’s gaze was intense—unblinking and unmoving beyond the slam of his heart and the pulse of the erection in his pants, begging to be palmed as you stood only feet away. The man’s hands clenched, knuckles going white.

While holding eye contact, you let the pants—and your panties—drop to the ground with a whoosh of fabric. Simon tenses, but doesn’t look away.

You smirk, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m surprised.” Your hand captures his waist, one moving to stroke along the prominent v-line that’s hidden by his shirt. Simon’s heavy breath meets your head as his blown pupils make his eyes look black entirely. He’s almost in a trance. “Usually I’d be having to snap my fingers.”

“Better than that,” he grits out raggedly. You have to agree.

Your mouth finds his neck as he leans back against the door, letting you do what you wish as his hands settle on your hips once more, rubbing up and down as your own eagerness drips from you. Simon clenches his jaw as you bite down, taking and sucking on the skin as he hisses when you give him hickeys, eyes fluttering.

“‘Such a mouth’ you said,” you comment, hand falling lower to hear the jingle as you unclip his belt. He stares off as your hand rests and cups him, sharply inhaling when you rub your palm over the large tent. Simon fights the sway of his hips, but the widening of his legs is telling enough, pelvis knocking forward as you groan, a line of slick falling down your thigh. “I’d bet you’d like my mouth, Brown-Eyes, wouldn’t you?” Your joke and your teasing of his dick—your hickeys and your sly eyes—they all at once snap something inside of him.

You find yourself manhandled with a squeak of shock and a jump in your gut as your legs dangle, moved back, and pressed into the very door where Simon had been moments before. Your feet settle as his figure descends.

“Your mouth, Sunshine?” Brown eyes glint, staring you down from where he taps your legs open to the air, kneeling with an open belt and pre-cum staining his pants. “Want to see what mine can do?”

There’s no more than a dangerous smirk before his face slots itself into the clutch of your pussy.

You gasp, hands going down to his covered hair as his nose slides along your clit, making lightning go up your spine as you push down on him, grinding as a long stripe is licked, tongue flattening out at the nerve before a loud groan makes Simon’s mouth vibrate as it attaches itself to you.

Giving you your own medicine, teeth lightly bite, tongue flicking as your cunt clenches over nothing, fingers grasping guilty as your head knocks back with a loud whine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, toes curling as your hips move back and forth.

Your body can feel his smirk, your juices leaking out to drip at his chin, falling down his throat as this beast of a man sucks and mewls around your clit like he’s possessed. Hands grasped your thighs, holding them open. Well, one anyway.

Lost in the movements of his mouth, cursing and gasping as he keeps trying to build you up to the point of rapture with every hard flick and measured nip, there’s no way your dopamine-addled brain can comprehend the fingers at your cunt before they’re already inside and curling outward.

You moan out his name pleadingly, the pace of your hips instantly increasing as Simon’s chuckle makes your lungs constrict. A separate heart-beat lives in your navel, skin sweaty and slick making its way down his fingers.

“Being so good,” your voice breaks as Simon’s wide eyes from below meet you as your head lolls forward. He stutters, hearing the wet squelching of your pussy as his movements cease for a moment. You whimper, face pulling in, and he instantaneously gets back to it with increased fervor and ferocity as if he’d never just felt his cock twitch in his pants and his abdomen bunch up.

Your eyes widen, rapturous moans falling from your lips in blown-limpness as his mouth and fingers do sinful things to you.

The sounds coming from below were feral and animalistic at best, sopping wetness and loud groaning—it makes it all so much better.

“So thorough for me, Simon. Making me feel so good Brown-Eyes,” you babble, tightening your core and palming hands shoving him impossibly farther into you. “Such a fucking perfect mouth—perfect fingers, knew you could make me cum on ‘em, please, Simon, fuck, oh God right there,” you break off of the praise into desperate whines. Your quivering body shakes and ruts faster, Simon’s stubble making it all burn in such a way that leaves you gasping, back begging to arch as everything comes to a tipping point.

Simon can feel it by the way your walls flex and pull in, how their slipperiness gets so loose it’s not even a problem to finger-fuck you even as your cunt bares down like a noose. Your fluids drip past his elbow, falling to his pants as his pelvis involuntarily tries to get friction from his zipper by humping the air in broken intervals.

He’s breathing heavily, but not as much as you are, broken up by groans, grunts, and his open mouth licking of your engorged clit. He’d never admit to you how much your praise was making him want to bust in his own fucking pants.

“S-Simon,” you knock your head back into the wall, eyes going glassy as the knot in your navel goes painful, a vile itching so very close as your spine begins to arch for the man’s viewing pleasure. “So close, oh God, so fucking good. Need it, Simon, need it from—”

Your breath hitches, fingers twitching into tight fists of fabric and the hair underneath as your walls clamp down.

Orgasm ripping through you, your voice lets out broken, airy, moans of Simon’s name like a prayer, hips continuing to spasm and toes curling inwards. Not letting up his assault, the smug man’s tongue and fingers draw the entire experience out until your legs are too weak to hold you, having to be pressed back into the wall by white knuckles and fingers stained with your cum. You hear it drip to the floor and see it when your half-lidded eyes blurrily make out the ragged appearance of an arrogant Simon, clear beads falling off of his chin and his lower face decimated by your pleasures. The bottom of his balaclava is stained—sopping with absorbed juices.

You both stare—you, lust-blown, and Simon, ready to grasp at himself and stave off the near-painful erection that needs to be taken care of.

But you’re true to your words.

Not seconds after your release had flooded him, your hands pushed at his chest and shoved him to the floor. Simon grunts but lets your hands quickly fiddle with his zipper and send it down. Not a moment is wasted, and the man’s hands move your hips higher as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free and slap his abdomen.

Your hand curls around it and he groans long, pushing up into your hand as you stroke him quickly and mercilessly with the spread of his weeping tip. Simon’s words come out as a way to steady himself, but the work of your hand is easy to get lost in as his voice is a growl.

“Tase so bloody good, Sunshine, yeah? Be needin’ that every day,” his mouth is taken in a kiss, and you tase yourself on his tongue as he shakes and his fingers flex into your flesh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says as you lick his lips, panting below you as he quickly loses himself. “Not gonna…”

Simon’s orgasm builds incredibly fast—and not once does your hand slow in its course. He blinks in a blind panic, mouth letting off soft sounds of confusion as he looks down to see his red cock and how you play with it like a toy. You chuckle at him as his sounds get louder, legs rising, and the slapping of skin on skin addictive.

“You are good with your mouth—and your hands. Should have guessed really, you are a mechanic after all. Got yourself all worked up.” Simon's hand comes up to your head pressing your lips back to his as his abdomen tightens and quivers, thighs shaking as his hips try to meet your break-neck pace but just can’t.

What were you doing to him? Why can’t he last longer than a few mere minutes?

You break off and connect your forehead to his, brown eyes fighting to not go blurry and his mouth open with fast breaths. You push out as you feel his tip twitch and spurt prematurely, “Be a good boy and cum, Simon.”

He groans loudly, eyes fluttering as they try to stay locked to yours before the wet splatter of his rapid ejaculation layers yours as well as his abdomen sticky and soaked. It keeps going, not stopping until Simon’s eyes have come back down from where they had fled to the back of his head and his small grunted whine lets you know you should stop pumping him so violently.

You release his member and go to rub along his abdomen, massaging the skin and laying kisses on his clothed chest slowly. His hands loosen on your hips, thumb pulling back to carefully run circles into the flesh as you hum in appreciation.

Simon's quivering slows to a stop.

“You sure you only work a bar, then? Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon hisses, looking down at himself. “Made a fuckin’ mess, yeah?”

“Only fair,” you mutter, moving up to press your lips together as you both sigh. Simon’s breath hitches as your stomach rubs him. “I like having you under me. It’s nice to see you look confused.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, and a red sheen comes to his flushed face. “Won’t happen again.”

Your face goes mischievous, head tilting. Simon growls a weak, “Don’t.” You chuckle and hide your face into his neck.

“Don’t test it?” You ask into his flesh, your body still pulsing and needy at the display you’d managed to pull from the stoic man. Your tongue licks over your placed hickey with a newfound appreciation for the black and blue mark, blowing on it as Simon feels himself harden again. “Or don’t acknowledge that Simon Riley has a praise kink and when a woman tells him what to do he—”

Your spine settles to the floor, hands stuck on either side of your head and digging into the wood. Simon’s eyes glint primarily, and you keen to him as your arms move to wrap around his neck as your cunt tightens.

“Thought you said you didn’t want me on the floor?” He grasps your chin, moving his face to be above yours so he can speak plainly and dead-like. A surge of power takes over his voice, and you yield with a rising of your legs and a shiver as his fluid-slick abdomen slides over top of yours.

“That was before you made me cum in a matter of fuckin’ minutes by just stroking my cock. Now,” he breathes, “now I’m going to fuck you how you deserve.”

He grasps your legs and pulls them around his waist, locking them as he lines up his half-hard dick and bullies it inside of you, your arching back bends into him, but your shocked moan is cut off as Simon starts to move. The pressure inside of your pussy is tight enough to feel like it could snap—your gummy walls taking the curve of his veins and the grate of his head as the tip curves upward. On girth and size, Simon is the largest you’d ever taken, and your face pulls in with a mix of pain and pleasure before the latter takes over completely.

“Get me to be your toy, eh, Sunshine?” Simon keeps your chin grasped, not letting you look away as you try to garble words over the heavy slap of wet skin. “Keep me ‘ere so you can play with me like you’ve been doin’ from the start?”

“So full,” you seem to have lost that edge, staring up into brown eyes as your spine digs into the wood below you, your cunt taking the fast slaps of Simon’s prod as it reaches every part of you that you could ever ask. Every trust makes your legs tighten, clamping down to keep him there and ring pleasure like water. “Such a big cock, Simon.”

He huffs, but his pace increases, panting at you as your lips meet for a sloppy and slobbering kiss of teeth and saliva. Sweat falls from both of you, coating your faces and lower halves with more liquid to make this dance easier—staining already ruined clothes.

“Splitting you open, am I? So tight,” Simon grumbles, grunting as his elbows shift to stay beside your head. “Gettin’ me off so easily, need ta return the favor for making me feel so good, Sunshine. Bloody perfect cunt, takes my cock like it was made for it. Hear that?” Your skull moves to push into the side of his face as he bites at your neck, ravishing you as the forward and backward motion of his body makes your mouth hold back mewls of raw need. So many sounds—so loud and wet it was lewd, borderline obscene with every pump of the man’s hips that more just spilled out of you, pooling with every back and forth spreading of your hole.

Simon bites a long whine back and angles himself higher, making you shout and cry as a burst of white light explodes in your eyes.

“Making me want to fill you full of myself. Over and over, make you drip with it—go until you can’t walk. You’d take it too, yeah? You’ve got such a good look on your face, you bloody love it when I stretch you open like this—takin’ my dick so well, Sweetheart.”

You were both animals trying to get fix after fix—drunk off scent and a biological urge.

At the words, your pussy tightens around him even more, Simon holding back a loud groan and letting your little puffs of air grace his ears along with the ravaging dig of his fucking.

“You like that?” You whine, face burning as a hand descends to play with your clit. You gasp loudly and moan, not hiding the way your hips jump and rut and fight to keep Simon’s cock taking you raw.

“Simon!” You call loudly. “I like it—fuck I love it, Brown-Eyes. Keep touching me, please, please keep going. Keep talking, love it when you talk like that.”

“Makin’ fun o’ me,” he scoffs, “but the little temptress has the same bastard kink, eh? It’s alright, then. I’ll just help me get you off—”

The front door of the bar opens from beyond the wall.

The both of you stop all carnal desires instantly, wide eyes snapping back and locking with each other. A pin could drop, fast breaths and fast hips held back even as you both quiver and your nerves plead to keep going. The need doesn’t last long. Simon's fat hand covers your mouth as your eyes glint with panic before getting right back to it.

You try to speak, to get the words out that you should go out there, but it’s all cut off by the way he rubs you every right way. Your hand anchors to his back as someone walks around the bar, their voice muffled just like yours is, but this person has no idea you’re getting railed in the back room by the mechanic from across the street.

Simon’s eyes are dark and urgent, but his hands can't as the slap of skin that’s still incredibly loud, and the wetness that follows all but telling. Your moans and whines are hidden, kept back by a tight palm as he smirks down at you. His hips are bruising yours and you can feel the hard bone of his pelvis as it slots itself fully into yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, accepting the words with hard thrusts that make you whine like a dog, pawing at his gargantuan shoulder blades. “Keep quiet. I’ll make you feel good.”

Your heart hammers, walls flexing and clamping at the words. Outside the walking continues, searching for you, no doubt. Simon's hips increase, almost cruelly, and your cut-off cries spill from between his fingers.

The bastard chuckles and watches, letting your hips meet his as your release builds with the added need to finish quickly.

It was rabid now your back arched, how the person outside mattered so little to you now, in fact, maybe you even wanted them to hear you like this—being fucked so perfectly to the point where you had tears in your eyes and your body was growing numb; mind blanking to only pleasure and the grating press of a foreign entity all the way to where it digs at your cervix and makes you see starts with every addictive thrust.

You can’t hear anything over the previous sounds, that and rough breathing are the only things in this hot room—the air tense and ready; anticipation a drug of the highest order.

“C’mon,” Simon grunts into your ear, hand flexing as his lungs burn. He wasn’t far away either. “Let me see it—how your face screws up all nice and pretty for me.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you can only stare at the ceiling as the door of the bar slams shut once more, whoever there leaving. Simon releases your mouth and you fall apart with a spine-breaking arch and a high, feral, keen.

Your release is subsequently followed by Simon’s own, his body spasming as he gives three more violent pumps before the warmth of his cum seeps into your womb with a loud groan and a pound of his fist into the floor. He grinds you both through the aftershocks, the sparks of electricity that make both of your hips jerk just a few more times before you fall limp and useless.

Simon stays inside of you as he shifts to the side, hooking one of your hips over his thigh as you stay face-to-face as your bodies gasp and pant for air.

When the two of you come back to yourselves, some delirious minutes later, the first thing that you both notice is the tightness of your clothes and skin. Glancing down at the mess you’ve made of yourselves, you both slowly look back into each other's eyes, pausing.

You’re the first one to snort, before you have to hold your loud laughs back behind your hand.

“Well, I sure do have some more secrets to keep,” you say through your fit, knocking your head to Simon’s chin. The man is smiling, his eyes crinkled and mouth jerking in a series of chuckles.

“Proper few.” The laughter died down to a simmering emotion of amusement.

You smile at Simon, and he stares back, a hand coming up to touch your cheek delicately before it traces the lines of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?” You ask him, and those browns blink at you in question. “What I said before we decided to fuck. About keeping your secrets.” Simon’s face gets slightly more serious. Your hand cups his cheek, feeling the stubble on your fingertips.

“Simon,” you say, “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing, okay?”

He watches you for any glint of hesitation—of a lie. But there is none.

“Why,” Simon asks. Your answer is simple as you smirk, recalling words from a while ago.

“You’re just going to have to stick around to find out.”

Simon shoves his lips to yours and drags you back on top of him.

—

You both exit the back room two hours later, clothes ruffled and bodies far dirtier than ever. You have a limp in your step, a pulsing ache between your bruised legs, and yet you’d never felt better.

Simon presses a kiss into your temple.

“Walking you home,” is what he says, and you sigh through an adoring look. You were tired, incredibly tired, and you hoped that Simon would share your bed tonight so he could hold you like he did back there.

“Deal,” you wink, and the man huffs a chuckle, back to that same stoic mechanic that you knew.

It’s only then that you realize that Celina had never shown up for her shift. Pausing behind the counter, you blink and look around, confused as you flatten out your clothes. Simon catches on quickly, brows pulling in with concern.

“Something wrong?”

“Celina,” you tell him, “she never showed up.”

A beat.

“...Probably kept away,” Simon tries to lightly say, implication enough to make you scowl.

“No,” you utter. “She would have tried to break the door down if she actually came in. She never would have walked away.”

The man hums, pulling down his balaclava and looking about.

“What do you want to do about it?” It wasn’t mocking—he was being honest. Your lips thinned out in thought.

“Well…I can’t leave the bar unattended, she needs to be here in order for me to go home.” You motion a hand helplessly, shaking your head and walking forward. Through a sigh you grumble, “I guess I have to call her or I’ll—” A shadow darts from across the street and your head snaps to the dark window.

Words coming to a swift stop, you gaze outside with blank eyes, mouth open in confusion. Simon stands taller, not having seen the strange event but not liking the shock on your face as he pivots to the view to study it.

Brown darts over the street lamps and the closed body of his shop, along the sliver of the obsidian street and the tops of bushes in the plant boxes. But there was nothing there and Simon glanced back at you from over his shoulder with furrowed brows.

“Thought I saw someone in a…” you frown, eyes not leaving the window as your heart tightens. “In a mask.”

“Mh,” Simon watches for a moment before he grunts and tension seeps into his muscles. “Mask?”

“Like yours,” you say quietly, suddenly very still. “Without the skeleton.”

Simon moves back slowly, one foot backing up before he’s behind the counter again and shifting nearer to you—your eyes flicker upward but swiftly return to the view. He pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants, and no sooner had he put it to his ear that you saw the individual again. This time it wasn’t just one shadow, it was three, and there wasn’t just a flash of black mist and then poof gone again—it was worse than some schoolyard prank.

There was a bat. There was the swing of a strong arm. The glass explodes with a resounding shatter and the shrill yell falls from your mouth not milliseconds later.

Getting tackled down, Simon keeps your head to his chest as he shifts to hit the ground first, body sliding slightly before you’re forced under him and protected by his bulk. Grasping at him, you clench your eyes shut as large projectiles are hurled through the broken window and make contact with the bar shelf right above the two of you.

But Simon doesn't move for a second. Not as the bottles shatter and drown him in alcohol and colored glass, not as the bricks fall back from gravity and strike his spine with a loud thump. He holds you to him, curled over your body as if in reverent worship, grunting as he takes the beating without thought to anything else but your safety. Loud shouts and laughter echo in from outside, but your wide eyes only stay and focus on Simon, his fingers gripping across your back and creasing your shirt. You flinch as a spec of glass knicks your arm, slicing through it with a sharp drag of an uneven edge.

Simon growls into your scalp, but as he attempts to squish you farther into him, the barrage, just as it had come, entirely stops.

Staying there, breathing heavily and your mind panicked, you have no time to think before Simon shoves himself up and snaps his enraged eyes forward. Like a large beast, his hands are in shaking fists, alcohol dripping from his shirt and glass pinging against the wood. You can smell blood.

“Simon,” you say in concern, moving to stand up quickly as you try to get your breath back.

What the hell had just happened?!

“Stay there!” he barks, eyes tight as they dart back and forth to nothing until they find something.

No one was there anymore, but in that absence, the true damage was brought to light. You ignore Simon’s words and shift until you can peek over the top of the counter, fingers shaking and mouth dry. The man beside you is stone-still, his darkened eyes lighting like fire and brimstone as the anger can all but be tasted in the air.

The mechanic’s shop across the street. Seen through the broken remains of the bar as if a tornado had come through on the dusty air.

It had been ransacked.

—

The illumination of the police lights takes over everything, pushing the dark away as Sheriff Russel tries to get statements from the two of you. But your attention keeps getting brought back to the stiff-standing presence of Simon.

He hasn’t spoken beyond clipped sentences, even when he’d called Price, Johnny, and Gaz to explain the situation.

“Can you explain what you saw?” The Sheriff eases, and your attention is drawn back.

“It wasn’t much,” you stutter, shaken. “Shadows—men wearing masks. One had a bat and hit the window before they started throwing bricks.”

Simon’s eyes shift over the damage, numb gaze finding more broken glass, thrown paint, and dents in the garage door. The front had been trashed with garbage, and the lobby was ruined—it was by some miracle that the bikes had been left alone for whatever strange reason.

It didn’t make him any less full of wrath.

Your hands are still shaking, and your arm still leaking small droplets of blood down your flesh. Simon’s injuries were worse; he’d taken the brunt of it, but he didn’t seem to care at all, even as the crimson liquid stains his wet back.

“Simon needs medical attention,” you speak lowly to the Sheriff, head moving forward. “Can we do this later at the station?”

“I’m fine,” the man in question grunts, voice deep with anger before turning and walking back to the two of you. Not once do his eyes stop searching the area; on high alert even now and not eager to be out in the open. Those old instincts were creeping back over him, and he wanted to get you somewhere safe so he could handle this situation himself.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible and while property was one thing, your comfort was another.

How dare anyone do something like that to you.

“You’re bleeding,” you explain, eyes tight. A hand brushes over your arm, taking it up and inspecting the small cut that you wear.

Feet shift, and through a clenched jaw Simon utters, “So are you.”

“You know what I mean, Brown-Eyes,” you try to make him listen, but it’s fruitless.

“Don’t worry about me,” the Sheriff walks to assess the damage, letting the two of you speak in hushed whispers and firm looks.

“You sound stupid,” you hiss, and Simon’s fingers rub your skin softly, his study of your body taking place in a slow sweep. “Of course I’m going to worry.”

“Need to stop shaking.” Your face creases at the comment.

“I’m not shaking.” Simon grabs your hand and puts his fingers through yours, raising it between you so you can look. Your eyes shift down, and your limb can clearly be seen vibrating like an engine in his hold; the fingers unable to close fully.

Not speaking, Simon cups it with his other hand and presses, grounding you as your lungs take a deep breath before you can clear your throat.

“I’m fine,” your words barely make it to the air.

“...Now who’s sounding like me?” The man mutters eyes creased as he stares. “Breathe.”

You listen, taking another deep breath and staring at Simon’s chest.

“Up ‘ere,” a finger moves out to tap under your jaw, making you tilt your head up to lock with his browns. “There we are, then. Focus. M’right here.”

“You’re good at this,” you grumble, put off by your own separation from your body.

Simon tilts his head. “Had to be.”

You spare a strangled huff at that.

How quickly things could go wrong—you had thought that tonight would be the best night of your life, but now it was just one single instant that things had made sense, the rest a stain on your memory.

“You know it was Graham and his friends?” Simon nods, still watching you and making sure you’re calming down properly, waiting for that adrenaline crash. He knows. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Right now?” The man pauses. “Nothing. You’re coming down with me to the Bed and Breakfast. Staying there.”

So that was how Simon shifted his priorities, walking you down the road as more and more police showed up—there would be more talking in the morning, you had given them everything you’d known so far. It was also how you were mobbed by three more concerned mechanics as you entered their temporary living situation until houses were purchased, blue and brown eyes blinking at the two of you quickly.

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Gaz had asked, but you were much too tired to speak beyond leaning into Simon’s shoulder and grunting.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny had muttered, only in boxers as he’d shoved out of his room. “Heard the sirens—what’s been happenin’ without me?”

Price had been the one to finally settle everyone and push out a stiff order to leave Simon and you alone for the night. With various glances and tense looks, you were both allowed into your room with little more trouble.

It was tiny but clean, and Simon had locked the door with a grumble and moved you over to the bed so you could sit, moving off to run a bath.

You heard the pipes squeak—the whoosh of water as it entered the tub.

Your mind has still not entirely caught up to itself as Simon leads you forward and begins undressing you; taking off your top and letting you shift out of your own pants. The bathroom tile is cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself when you’re entirely bare as you can’t find the words to speak. That is, before Simon takes his shirt off and you see the damage that’s been done.

You gasp, hand reaching out but stopping above the cut skin surrounded by a million bruises and large welts.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, delicately touching the skin. None of the slices were deep, but the horror was still there. “Simon…”

Brown eyes soften, and the balaclava is removed as well before a kiss is dug into your forehead. The shade of his hair matched his eyelashes, and now with the full picture, he was as handsome as you imagined him to be, though to all others the scars and the crookedness of his nose might be a shock. You hadn’t expected anything different.

“Just bruises, Love,” he pets your neck, thumb running over your pulsepoint.

“You’re all cut up,” your eyes water, but your stubbornness holds them back as you try to take everything in from his willingness to show you his face to the events of tonight. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that he would do something like this, really, he was always a jerk but he was never…never bold like this.”

Cupping his cheeks, you kiss his jaw, salty water tracking down your face as you hear Simon take in a breath. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly, curling over you as if another barrage of bricks was imminent.

But there wasn’t going to be any danger here. Not with three other veterans down the hall.

“He ever…?” You shake your head, shakily uttering a quick response to Simon’s trialed-off question.

“No. No, I’d never stand for that.” The man’s broken body loosens, a long sigh exiting his nose in blatant relief.

“Good,” is all he says. “Deserve better.”

You sniffle, getting a reign on your emotions. “I’ve got better.”

During the shared bath, you clean the others’ wounds, your back to the wall as you run water over the stretch of Simon’s shoulders, washing away the blood. Your nails drag over his skin as he shivers, not looking back at you as he reaches behind and takes one of your hands into his. The black stain of his tattoos rubs along your bare arm as fingers intertwine, your limb moved and held to his abdomen as you kiss one of the knobs in his spine softly and hum to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin.

Simon doesn’t respond, only leaning back into you more.

—

Two days pass with no sign from Graham or his friends—Celine, either. Everyone in town was on edge, and in that time you’d been put on paid leave from the bar on account of your involvement and the potential involvement of your coworker. So, you spent most of the time at the shop with Simon, as he’d asked you to so he could keep an eye out.

You had thought that maybe this was a one-time event, and had believed it, as well. Graham had made a point, and being the idiot that he was, he’d pay for it. If he was smart, he’d be out of the country by now—there was no mistaking Simon’s vendetta now. Price had to reel him back in the day after the vandalism.

You’d woken up to an empty bed, having been fitted into one of Simon’s incredibly large shirts and sweatpants for pajamas, and heard arguing. Feet padding like a cat, you had pressed your ear to the door and listened with held-back breath, as if only a peep would make the heated conversation stop.

“He made her bleed, Price. He put her in danger!”

“Get your head on, Simon, you aren’t in the service anymore,” Price had hissed, shadows slinking along from under the door. “You can’t do anything about it.”

There had been a low growl, an aggravated breath.

“I can’t sit ‘ere when he’s waiting like a fucking robber. This is my responsibility— happened on my watch.”

“Since when did that fucking happen, Simon, eh? What’s been going on with you two?”

A pause. “...It’s complicated.”

“Then un-complicate it—you’re thinking like a damn soldier.”

So here you are, fixing the streaks of miscolored paint that had been spattered over the mechanic’s shop as Simon comes out, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Good thing I didn’t start on the mural yet,” you comment to him, stepping back and putting your roller down. The rag is offered and you take it with a small smile while you slide it over your fingers. “Else I would have tracked him down myself.”

“Would ‘ave helped.” October eyes flicker along the drying paint—the marks still visible. “M’sorry.”

“If you won’t let me apologize,” you raise a brow in challenge. “I won’t let you either.”

Simon’s eyes crinkle from behind a new balaclava, missing the skeleton details. “Cheeky.”

“It’s called being truthful, Riley.” You sigh through the tilt of your head. “But the bad news is that I had to use up the paint, and I’m not even halfway done with this. It didn’t help that they used a darker color than what I wanted as the backdrop.”

“Want to take a drive out, then?” The question is swift and honest as it's aimed at you like a distraction from the anxiety. Simon motions his head to the garage. “Got a bit before I’m needed, m’sure you could use a break, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” you utter, moving to rest a hand on his bicep. He almost purrs at the touch, leaning in.

“Want to,” Simon grunts slowly. “Bikes are still good. Bastards knew I’d skin them if they touched ‘em.”

“I’m sure,” you chuckle, teasing him through a smirk. “Big Bad Simon Riley.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes at that, turning back around as you follow after, laughing.

You both get onto the Rebel, and the brown leather jacket moves your way along with the helmet, slipping it over your head not seconds later as Simon grabs his spare.

“Are you sure you shouldn't ask for another helmet?” You had brought it up the first time as well—the prospect of a crash.

“Only a small ride—I’ll go slow, Sunshine.” Knuckles tap the top of the helmet in reassurance. “Matters more that you’re the one wearing it.”

Your face creases up, but you sigh and nod, wrapping your hands around Simon’s waist and tightly holding on as the engine starts rumbling below you. Moving your feet up to the rests, you scoot closer as the man pushes off the ground, flipping the kickstand back up before he leans forward slightly and lets the bike do the work.

As before, the two of you get out of town and nature opens up—but as soon as you really start to let your worries slide away and focus on Simon’s pulse and the freedom he gives you, there’s a cold wind from the west. Coming up and dragging along with it, a dark rain cloud sits over you both about a seven-minute drive in.

“Should we pull over?!” You shout in question as raindrops begin to patter off your helmet. The bike makes a strange chirping sound, and you blink over Simon’s shoulder until your attention is taken away by his answer.

“Soon!” You nod, trusting him to know, and ease back. Your fingers trace the small bulge of scars at his waist, shivering.

One minute later, you’re about to say you can see the town ahead when that chirping starts again. Brows furrowing, you grunt in the back of your throat and yell, “What’s that sound, Simon?”

He glances back briefly, unable to hear you.

“The sound!” Simon’s fingers flicker, head moving down to the bike below him—the hum of the engine was too strong up here, he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

“What are you—?!”

There’s a great shriek of black metal, and the Honda Rebel 500’s front wheel breaks off from the motorcycle fork and the bike flips.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @aldis-nuts, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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tojisun · 6 months

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dbf!simon is very much dear john by taylor swift coded

my goodness?? no yea absolutely!! im??? WHAT???? i cant move on, this hurts terribly

toxic!dbf!biker!simon was sent to me so i can hurt all of us and yk what? im actually sorry for this one because dear gods simon is mean

!! made simon unlikeable (ooc, even) and im really sorry for that; suggestive; age gap; power imbalance // biker!simon mlist // prev - 01, 02

simon’s late.

of course he is. when was he ever on time? when has he ever prioritized you above all else?

he said he’d pick you up at six and promised that he’d bring you the helmet that’s only ever reserved for you. it’s a pretty pink one with a little skull painted on the right top of the shell, personally customized by simon.

“reminds me of you, sweet girl,” he whispered the first time he presented it to you, grinning as though he’s the only man who’s made you feel special; as though he knows he is.

he promised to bring his bike because he said it’s faster; because he said he’s got somewhere to bring you. some place, probably in the outskirts of the city, where he can spoil you. because that’s all you are to him anyway: a secret. a fling. someone who he knows he can always turn to.

and you should’ve known that simon’s promises are ephemeral. that all that they’re good for is to make your stomach swoop and your heart flutter, long enough that when the betrayal hits, it hits harder. you should’ve known that his promises are but cacophonies that get smothered in the wind because simon doesn’t follow through. he never has.

but you never learn, huh?

too busy being in love, too busy being starry eyed. too busy counting down the hours, minutes, seconds because for some reason, for some stupidly heartbreaking reason, you think he loves you back. you think that he even can.

you think that once simon comes, he’ll be all apologetic, begging for your forgiveness as he whimpers his i’m sorry’s and his i’ll do better’s on your forehead or on your cheeks or even on your lips. that he’ll cradle you in his arms like the precious jewel that you are, careful and tender, before helping you get on his bike.

but an hour has already passed and the next hour is just eleven minutes away from being completed, still, simon has yet to show up. your messages remained unseen and your calls continued to be unreturned.

you’ve bitten your lips raw, not enough to bleed but just enough that you feel the sting whenever you sigh. you’ve taken to walking around the lounge area of the library to stretch your legs out and to give your numb butt a break, occasionally bumbling towards the water dispenser to grab a quick drink, because you wished that all these little things can eat up time faster. you wished that if you just distracted yourself enough, then time will speed up and simon will finally come.

still-

“hello everyone, the library will be closing soon. i repeat, the library will be closing soon. please proceed to the checkout for those who want to bring home items, otherwise, thank you so much for coming in today! we open at 09:00 am tomorrow!”

oh.

you gather your things with a sigh, pretending that the back of your eyes aren’t stinging as tears begin to prick and pool. you ignore your trembling fingers as you swipe at your phone again, checking to see if simon’s called or messaged, only to feel the remaining pieces of your heart shatter at seeing nothing from him at all. you throw your phone back in your bag before zipping it close and slinging it on your back. you stomp out of the library, your breaths stuttering at the weight of your heartache.

you fall into a quiet autopilot as you get on the bus and trek back to the dorms. you remember that your mom had asked if you were going to come visit soon and you decide that perhaps what you need is a change of scenery for now so you dig for your phone just to tell her you’ll be home for the weekend, dutifully ignoring the desire to check if simon’s replied.

(it takes a heartbeat before you do check, thrums of morbid anticipation being chased away by the lack of notifications from him. this seals your need to flee back home.)

you mumble a hello to your roommate and to her girlfriend before locking yourself in your room to pack a duffel bag. you continue to pretend that you are not hyperaware of your phone as you stuff your bag with clothes, your laptop, and your books.

a knock brings you back to reality.

“hey lovie?” your roommate asks, her voice trembling from exhaustion.

“yeah?” you respond as you pad towards the door and open it for her. she smiles when she sees you. “what’s up?”

“someone’s downstairs, buzzing for you.”

“oh,” you say because you already know who it is.

“yeah,” she replies, standing up taller in sudden attentiveness, her previous sleepiness dispelled at hearing the dejected timbre of your voice. “you want me to chase him off?”

“no!”

you cringe at the ferocity of your reply, which makes her flinch, and you awkwardly clear your throat when the moment settles.

her girlfriend peeks around the corner to check on you two. “everythin’ alright?”

“yeah,” you say, coughing. “i, uh. i got it, thanks.”

you wave off their concern as you snag your keys from the counter and slide into your shoes before taking the elevator back down. you worried your bottom lip again, your brows furrowed as reality rushed back into you—simon’s come to your dorm. simon’s come to you.

you play with your fingers as you step out of the building, your lungs constricting at seeing simon parked just a few feet away. his helmeted head is turned towards the entrance of your building, and even though he’s got his face hidden by the visor, you know simon’s seen you.

still, he doesn’t stand.

he doesn’t make any effort to come to you. so you stay there by the building, blinking your eyes at him, waiting for simon to come close. for simon to be the one to take that first step into apologizing—because why else would he be here if not for that? if not for a pitiful and pathetic apology which you will digest as you are starved of any inkling of affection from simon?

but simon continues to remain still and even if you are desperate for everything he has to give, a bigger part of you knows this is too much. so you turn, sniffling as tears trickle from the corners of your eyes, and move to walk back into your dorm building.

“love, wait!” simon calls, but you remain facing the building even as your ears pick up the sound of scuffed boots against gravel, speeding towards you.

you whimper when simon’s hand closes around your wrist, tugging so that you are facing him again. his helmet’s still on but the visor’s pushed up and you bite a whine when your eyes meet his stormy ones.

“i said ‘wait,’ sweetheart,” simon murmurs, his hold tightening before he tugs you ever so closer to him. close enough that you see the lines on his face and the lone scar that runs from the side of his temple before disappearing into the tresses of his hair. close enough that you smell a faint vanilla sticking to his leather jacket. close enough that you see a littering of faint hickeys on his exposed neck.

“fuck you.”

simon’s head rears, not expecting the vitriol from your voice. he barks out a laugh.

“where’d my sweet girl go?”

“i’m not your fucking sweet girl!” you snarl, shaking his hold off of you. “i’m not your fucking anything!”

simon sighs like you are being difficult on purpose. like you are the one at fault. like you are the one who made him wait for two hours as he hanged onto the promise that you whispered to him nights ago. like you are the one who didn’t show up and forced him to find his way back home even amidst his heartache. like you are the one who chose to fuck someone even when you knew he was waiting for you.

because simon knew. he wouldn’t be here in front of you if he didn’t.

and isn’t it almost laughable how you thought he was going to apologize?

“love, is this about-”

“just leave, mr. riley,” you breathe out, the fire of anger that burned within you was extinguished into quiet sputters of your agony. “i made it back anyway. you don’t have to be here anymore.”

simon huffs a humourless laugh, the sound almost resembling a growl instead. “oh, so i’m ‘mr. riley’ now?” he pulls you even closer. “what happened to calling me ‘simon’? or even ‘si’?”

he leans towards you, his helmet bumping your head. “what happened to calling me ‘daddy’?”

simon steps back far enough that your hand misses his head, a hit that would’ve been futile anyway given his helmet.

you choke on your sob, the sound ripping from the base of your throat and tumbling into the cool air. and even then, even amidst the display of your heartbreak, simon continues to just stare you down.

“fuck you,” you repeat, your voice a quiet rasp.

simon hums, his boots crunching against the gravel as he turns. then, he says, “call me when y’r ready to talk to me like a mature person, kid.”

you run back into your building, not bothering to respond to him or to watch him drive off. you barely make it into the elevator before you crumple to your knees, your head dizzy with the intensity of your misery, your heart shredded into pieces.

made myself tear up too yey!!! @prttyangelz u got me sobbing teehee <333

#suns.f #prttyangelz #dbf!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley #simon riley #suns #ask #PLEASE DONT GET MAD ST ME FOR THIS!! i just love dabbling into diff aus :((

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suashii · 23 days

Text

something short and sweet for samu :3 established relationship, osamu calls reader honey, ~700 words ❤︎

the morning air is clean and crisp, even more so on this secluded trail than it is on the city sidewalks. you usually wouldn’t find yourself here, surrounded by trees, pebbles crunching beneath the soles of your shoes, but when osamu had invited you to join him on his run—insisted that you accompany him—you couldn’t say no. while the scenery is unmatched, attempting to keep up with the man makes it difficult to enjoy the chirping of the birds and the cool wind on your face.

he’s ahead of you—far enough that you couldn’t touch him if you reached out to grab him but close enough that he’s still in your sights. with each stride you take, it seems as though he takes three more.

“w-wait,” you wheeze out, slowing to a stop to catch your breath. your knees bend and your hands come to rest on them as you suck in a deep breath of air. “i need a break.”

your words stop osamu in his tracks. he turns around to face you and a smile takes over his face. his eyes are partly shielded by the brim of his hat but you’re almost positive you’d see the humor swimming in the gray irises if they were visible. “already? it’s only been, like, fifteen minutes.”

“cut me some slack,” you tell him, standing to your full height with your hands on your hips. you’re still trying to steady your breathing but the stance is almost a defensive one. “you do this every week.”

you mean that he runs this path every sunday morning to start his day, that he’s familiar with the route and has perfected a tempo that works for him. he knows you mean that but he still can’t help but poke fun at you.

“what are you talking about? you run too.”

you laugh, more out of disbelief than humor. the curl of his lips is telling and deep down you know he’s trying to get a rise out of you but you can’t help but take his bait. “yeah, on a treadmill. at my own pace. keeping up with you is impossible—your legs are too long.”

the comment draws a chuckle from his chest that seems louder than it truly is in this hidden spot within the trees. the sound never fails to brighten your mood, though, you cross your arms and paint on a frown to keep from folding so easily.

“you told me this was going to be a ‘relaxing jog’ and it hasn’t been either of those things.”

despite your posture and expression, osamu can tell you aren’t mad. you’ve been together for years and he can count the number of times he’s genuinely upset you on one hand. he knows your tells—like how you refuse to look at him and how you go quiet. he’s glad he’s only brought out that side of you a select few times and even though he’s sure you’re joking now, he never intends to push you that far.

his legs move automatically, closing the distance between you two. when his arms open, you step into them and let yours drop to your sides as you let your forehead rest on his chest. you can feel his heartbeat, still elevated from the exercise. he encases you in the warmth of his embrace. it’s comfortable and familiar and you’re starting to think that you’d be content standing here forever when osamu’s voice rumbles against you.

“shall i carry you the rest of the way?”

you snort and smack his chest. the offer is unserious but you know that if you say yes, he’d be willing to do it. there’s something tempting about the idea of clinging to osamu’s back for what’s left of his workout, but you didn’t tag along to be a nuisance. you tip your head up to meet his eye. “how about i set the pace?”

he hums in agreement. “i can follow your lead.”

“and…” you start, taking a step back so you can see him better, “i want breakfast as an apology for your misrepresentation of what this would entail.”

your second condition is enough to make osamu laugh, although, this time you allow yourself to smile at the sound. his laugh is pretty high up on the long list of things you love about him.

he nods. “fine. but i was gonna make you breakfast anyway, honey.”

#i thought this would be longer lol #but idk it’s kinda cute :3 #just a little samu for the soul #hopefully someone enjoys!#osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #osamu drabble #haikyuu drabble

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marigoldenblooms · 1 month

Text

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary).

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~ The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming.

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside.

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours.

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet.

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids.

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!”

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft.

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you.

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her. You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?”

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant?

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.”

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.”

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?”

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?”

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.”

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew.

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company.

------------------------------------------

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed.

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash.

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest.

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!”

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down.

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks.

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night.

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 7 months

Text

Santorini Serenity

pairing: Jacaerys x aunt reader

summary: The Targaryen and Valeryon family went on a vacation, how will it go?

Word count: 3,3K

Warnings: groping, smut, Fingering, Handjob, Dry humping

The azure waters of the Aegean Sea shimmered under the midday sun as the Velaryon family disembarked from their private yacht onto the picturesque island of Santorini. It was a rare occasion for the family to come together for a trip, and Jacaerys Velaryon, with his striking Valyrian features, stood at the center of it all. His aunt, Daelys, watched him from a distance, feeling a mix of pride and curiosity.

As the family settled into their luxurious villa overlooking the caldera, it became apparent that some rooms needed to be shared. Jacaerys, a man of grace and charm even in modern times, found himself assigned to the same room as Daelys. Their eyes met, and they exchanged polite smiles, though they hadn’t spent much time together before this trip.

The room was adorned with minimalist Greek decor, with white walls, splashes of cobalt blue, and large windows that framed the breathtaking view of the sea. It was spacious but cozy, with a sense of tranquility that contrasted with the hustle and bustle of their daily lives.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Jacaerys and Daelys sat on the room’s balcony, sipping on glasses of local wine. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the cliffs below created a soothing background.

Jacaerys broke the silence, his voice carrying a trace of his Valyrian accent. “It’s quite something, isn’t it? This view.”

Daelys nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Absolutely. I’ve seen many places, but Santorini is unlike any other.”

As the evening deepened, conversation flowed effortlessly between them. They talked about their lives, their dreams, and shared anecdotes about their family. Jacaerys revealed a more relaxed side, free from the responsibilities that usually weighed on him. Daelys listened intently, appreciating the chance to get to know her nephew better.

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon them, Jacaerys looked at Daelys, his eyes reflecting the lunar light. “You know, I’ve never had a chance to spend time with family like this. It’s been…unexpectedly wonderful.”

Daelys smiled warmly. “I agree. Sometimes, it takes a change of scenery to bring people closer together.”

Their hands brushed lightly as they reached for the last pieces of baklava on a shared plate, sending a subtle jolt of electricity between them. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, and the connection between aunt and nephew deepened under the Grecian stars.

After finishing their wine and savoring the last moments on the balcony, Daelys and Jacaerys exchanged sleepy smiles. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of the sea, lulling them into a sense of tranquility. They bid each other goodnight and retreated to their separate beds.

The room was cast in a soft, ambient glow from the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Daelys slipped under the crisp, cool sheets of her bed, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She couldn’t help but think about the day’s conversations and how she was getting to know her nephew in a way she never had before.

Jacaerys settled into his own bed, his thoughts filled with the enchanting beauty of Santorini and the unexpected connection he had formed with Daelys. He stared up at the ceiling, pondering the complexities of family dynamics and the mysteries that had yet to be uncovered during their trip.

Daelys shifted in her bed feeling a little uncomfortable, she always found it hard to sleep at least the first night after changing her sleeping arrangements, she is the type that got used and adapt fast but the first night was always the hardest.

Jace on the other hand could not for the life of him understand why he couldn't just bring his bed on vacations, he can never adapt no matter what. Hearing Daelys shift gave him some hope that she too was awake and may keep him some company. He turned on his side to look at her, the sight of her made him suck in a breath.

She had one of her legs out of the blanket, something that was globally famous for keeping someone cool but not too cool like it would if they removed the blanket entirely. She was still in her shoty satin shorts and matching tanktop. She was facing away from him giving him a full view of the rilling up short showing the bottom half of her behind.

Jace could feel himself growing hard under his shorts. He knew his was wrong, Daelys was his aunt for god's sake, he cannot think of her this way. He gulped when she shifted yet again trying to get comfortable, popping her behind even more.

"Daelys" He hissed unconsciously. She tensed up for a second before relaxing again as if she forgot that he was in the room with her.

"Hmm" Was her answer. She didn't want to speak up feeling that if she did she would ruin the incoming cloud of sleepiness she's been chasing for a while now.

"C-can I join you in bed?" Jace asked. He felt like an idiot when she didn't give an answer for a second.

"What for? Are you afraid of the dark, Jacey?" She teased. Her voice sounding almost hoarse, a sound between sleepy and awake. Jace gulped, she just sounded so freaking hot. The waves from her voice went straight down to his cock.

"No, I just- nevermind" Jace feeling ashamed moved to turn his back to her like she has done this entire time.

"Come here" She scoffed. Jace sat up faster than lightning shocked. He found her twisted awkwardly to look at him. She patted the space by her side where there was barely space for him to fit, the beds were tiny after all.

"You sure?" Jace asked. He was already peeling off the very thin blanket. His bare feet touched the tile floor feeling them to be a little cool which sent a shiver of relief through his body. He hoped she could not see the bulge forming in his shorts.

"Just come here" She demanded annoyed. She turned to face the wall again. Jace scrambled to lay behind her on his side so he wouldn't fall off the bed.

She threw a small section of the blanket over his stomach but not enough to cover his legs at all. Her leg was still out of the blanket for some kind of temperature balance. She shifted a little again to get comfortable only for her behind to brush against his very obvious hard on.

Jace froze and waited for her reaction, she did not react for a couple of minutes giving Jace false hope that she did not feel it. Daelys unknown to Jace smirked behind her hand before shifting again rubbing her behind against his cock.

"Stop moving" he begged, almost whining. She ignored him and moved more again. This time she did not try to hide the fact that she wanted to feel him. Jace tried to move away but there was no space.

"Maybe I should move back-" Jace wasn't able to finish his sentence before she twisted around to face him. His eyes widened when her lag snapped out of the blanket and wrapped around his waist. Now the blanket was pushed to behind her and in front of the wall instead.

"Why are you running away, Jacey?" Daelys pouted. She used the leg around his waist to pull him closer. Jace gulped feeling her heat against his groin. She was warm, he didn't know if she was truly warm feeling no skin.

"I-I I am n-not running away! Jace explained. She smirked, she moved her hips rubbing against him. This time with the closer contact it earned a moan from him.

"Stop it, you are my aunt" Jacaerys hissed angrily. One of her hands moved up to grab his hair and pulled his head back to expose his neck to her. She moved closer to his neck and kissed his neck, light pecks but they resulted in goosebumps all over his skin.

"Daelys" Jace moaned, she continued the movement of her hips. "Stop" He begged, almost sounding like he was crying. His cock has never been this hard before in his life.

"Jacey" Daelys moaned, against his throat. Jace wrapped an arm around her waist with the full intention of pushing her away only for his body to betray him and pull her in instead.

"I can't put it in" Jace groaned. He pulled his hair out of her hand and looked down at her. Daelys pouted but nodded her head anyways.

He smirked slightly gaining back some control. His hand moved from her waist back to her back feeling her spine up to her neck and back down, touching each and every vertebrae on her back. She shivered in his arms quickening the movement of her hips.

"Jace" She whispered, breathless, she was feeling the effect of her rubbing in her lower parts. She was getting wet, she was more than wet at this point.

"Shh" Jace was quick to shush her. His hand reached the hem of her shorts and slid inside. He did not pull them down instead opted to moves his hand over the flesh of her ass under the silk.

"No undies? Dirty auntie" Jace giggled in her ear. She smirked and bit his neck, Jace groaned at the feeling. "No marks" He warned. She nodded and let go of his skin and licked over it to soothe the skin there.

Jace's hand wandered over her smooth skin, grabbing a handful of her ass. Daelys moaned at the tight grip and rocked her hips with difficulty as he held the flesh preventing any movement.

"Jace, please" She pleaded. Jace shushed her again and moved his hand between the ass cheeks.

He continued wandering until he founded her sopping hole. She gasped at the feeling of his fingers touching her for the first time ever. Her nephew was running his fingers up and down her slit, a thought that has never occured to her let alone for her to live through it.

Jace felt bravery surge into him and he pushed a finger inside. She shivered at the prodding. So he pushed a second finger inside, she was no virgin he knew. He knew from all the guys she brought home. All the guys he watched her make out with. One will never leave his mind though, Artor Clegane, a man, not a boy, but a man who was like 6'2 feet tall she reached his below his shoulder, he played american football and he once heard them having sex. He knows that Artor must have hurt her, no way a man his size and a girl her size could have painless sex, but she always had a stupid smile on her face when she was with him until he of course cheated.

"Fuck" She whined, with Jace no longer holding her flesh she was able to move her hips again. hey created a rhythm of movement. His finger moved in and out curling inside of her in search of that soft spot that made her head go blank, in the process getting her wet.

"Good" She giggled. A gasp tore through her lips when he finally found that spot, hidden inside of her velvet walls. The second he touched it her movement grew more desperate, the bed was beginning to move at this point.

"Is that it, auntie?" Jace teased, curling his fingers again to touch that spot. She let out a loud cry at the feeling. His free hand snapped up to cover her mouth. He added a third finger, he could probably push his entire hand inside and she wouldn't complain.

"Fuck...yes yes yes" She cried against his palm. Jace pulled his hand out of her earning a moan of disappointment from her. He pushed her to lay on her back instead.

He moved between her legs and pulled her shorts down harshly, probably ripping at least a small piece of them. He did not waist another second to push his finger back inside of her. This time her hole was low on the bed, so he wrapped his free arm under her to pull her hips to the level of his own. He started rocking again, imagining that his fingers was his cock inside of her instead.

"mmmgods" Her thighs tensed up. The inside of her thighs was fully coated in her slick, if someone saw it they would think she had pissed herself.

"Such a whore" Jacaerys smirked. He found it funny how she thought she was the one in control minutes ago when she rubbed herself against him. He was merely being a gentleman like his mother taught him, she made him snap, not many could do that, in fact only one woman can do that, Sara Snow.

"yes, whore, y-your whore" She threw her head back feeling her orgasm closing in on her. Jacaerys quickened his pace wanting feel her cum on his fingers, the only thing he can push inside of her, maybe he push his tongue too someday but never his cock, he wished he could push his cock inside of. If only she wasn't his aunt.

"Cumming" She warned. Her hand snapped up to the headboard to brace herself. She was sure that the people in the room beside theirs could at least hear the banging against the wall, she hoped it's not someone they knew, she couldn't remember who was near their room and who wasn't. Was it Rhaenyra and Laenor? Were they in the room beside them? Was it Lucaerys and Joffery? she hoped no, Luce maybe an adult but Joffery was nowhere near there.

"Fuck me" She cried, her back arching as her whole body spasmed. The orgasm ran from the roots of her hair down to the very edge of her toes. Thighs shaking, arms shaking, whole body was shaking. Jace smirked watching her cum on his fingers, sensing her walls beginning to get too tight around his fingers he pulled them out not wanting to hurt her. He slowly set her hips down on the bed. Watching her blissed out face, eyes rolled back into the back of her head, as she laid on the pillow.

"Fucking hell" She whispered. Slowly gaining consciousness again, she truly felt like she lost her consciousness for a second.

"Was that good?" Jace asked. His palms running up her thighs to her mound rubbing her clit, her body jerked back but welcomed the touch as it soothed her. The buzz of the orgasm she just had did not have time to shimmer away before coming back.

"Oh fuck, very good" She whined. Her body moving between jerking away from his touch to chasing it. It was like her body had a mind of it's own, one second it was too sensitive for his touch, the second it chased his touch growing hungry for it in a second.

"Good good? or just good?" Jace smirked, moving his thumb faster. Her back arched off the bed, thighs beginning to tremble again. She hadn't come down fully from her orgasm yet and he was building a new one out of her.

"Good good" She cried. Her body went into a full shock as his thumb swiped with a new pressure. Her eyes were getting wet and tears soon were falling down her face. She wanted more, needed more.

She sat up, and held his hand in place between her legs. Jace smirked down at her moving his thumb, not needing her to tell him to know she was close already. "Don't you dare stop" She threatened. She looked ridiculous, glaring at him with tears running down her cheeks. Mouth falling open with pleasure, eyes fighting hard to keep open.

"Shit yes" She fell back on the bed as her orgasm crashed through her. Jace pulled his thumb away when she began jerking away from his touch fully. He even seized touching her all together not wanting to overwhelm her.

She opened her eyes slowly and watched him. He was watching her closely, watching her reactions. Watching to see if she was alright and that alone made her want to jump his bones but she can't he was her nephew. Her eyes trailed down to his shorts, a tent was obvious where his cock was, a little of her slick had gotten on it as well.

"Lay down" She ordered patting beside her. She moved onto her side, with a little difficulty finding herself exhausted from the mind blowing orgasms he gave her.

Jace obeyed her ordered. He watched her as she moved to push down his shorts and boxers just enough to pull out his cock. Her hand wrapped around his girth feeling his weight in her hand for the first time, he saw the surprise on her face at his size and it feuled his ego.

"Rub it" He hissed, growing impatient. Daelys did not need to be told twice. She began moving her hand up and down slowly at first, wanting him to get used to her touch.

Jacaerys gulped at the feeling of her soft hand moving up and down his shaft. Something he alone did, he never was brave enough to ask a partner to give him a handjob. Even Sara Snow. Yes she did give him the occasional blowjob now and then but it was like she was challenging herself with his length she tried to fit him in her mouth barely any use of her hands.

"Shit" He clenched his thighs together when she moved to use her other hand as well. She cupped his balls, having to pinch his thighs to get him to open them again to give her access to them. They were heavy and big, filled with cum for her.

She smirked as she gained more speed in her movement. Jace slapped a hand on his mouth to muffle his sounds. He whined and cried with each touch. She moved her thumb, swiping it over the small slit on the reddened top of his cock.

He was beautiful, big with heavy balls, with a singular vein on the left side of his cock. She admired his cock, one of the biggest she had seen, she wished that she could have it inside of her but that was not possible, she was his aunt, they cannot have sex, or penetration at least.

"I'm gonna cum" He cried, or more like whisper-shouted after a couple of minutes. At least he didn't last two minutes like most men. She knew he would be able to pull at least two orgasms from her with his stamina, if only she could put it inside.

"Cum, Jacey" She whispered into his ear. A moan like sound left her throat and straight into his ear. His mouth fell open and his eyes closed. She watched as white pearly drops sprouted out of his tip. His cum was all over his stomach, up to his abs.

He cried from overstimulation as she resumed her movement earning a couple more drops, his cock twitching in her palm. She let him go eyes wide, and curious. He was barely able to open his eyes only to find her on her belly near his with her tongue out.

"Shit" He cursed when her tongue touched his stomach, collecting his spend and tasting it. Her eyes raised to look at him with a smirk.

"Salty" She joked scrunching her nose. Jace slapped both of his hands on his face to stop himself from laughing, his aunt found it in herself to joke when they were in this situation.

"Fucking hell" He moved his hands away from his face when she dropped beside him on the bed again. He couldn't even look at her. Lucaerys and Joffery were in the room beside their, did they hear? How is he supposed to face either of them ever again?

#hotd #house targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #jacerys velaryon #jacaerys valeryon #jacaerys strong #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys fic #jacaerys smut #jacaerys imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of dragons #house of the dragon smut

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marlynnofmany · 3 months

Text

Fun and Dangers with Hovercycles

When the spaceship is grounded for a mechanical checkup that most of the crew helps with, but your knowledge of alien tech is limited to “That button means go, right?” then there’s not much to do. I’d been stuck with cleaning duty on other similar overhauls, which was fair enough. But it sucked. So I was delighted today to find that Mur was giving the hovercycle a once-over in the cargo bay, and didn’t mind letting me help.

“Is it hard to ride?” I asked while he shone a flashlight into the fuel tank, standing on the tips of his tentacles to get a good look. “I’ve never actually gotten to.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he replied. “The balancing function is top-notch, and the brakes are reliable.”

Paint sorted through the toolbox, organizing wrenches and whatever. “It’s a little high off the ground for my taste.” She craned her lizardy neck to look up at me. “But that may not bother you.”

“Probably not,” I said with a smile. “Can I try it? There’s never been a good chance before. It’s always in storage unless we need it for some rush delivery on the far side of a space station.”

Mur sighed and clicked off the light. “Yeah, and that’s usually my job these days. Mimi is a great rider, but he’s usually busy, and Coals is respectable but doesn’t like to…”

“I don’t like to either!” Paint exclaimed, holding a scaly hand to her chest. “He always has a better excuse!”

“Why don’t you like to?” I asked.

“Too fast, dangerous.” Paint shook her head. “I don’t like the pressure of urgent deliveries when a minor distraction could leave me and the package smeared across the scenery.”

“Okay, fair,” I said.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Mur said. “It won’t tip over, and the brakes have an impact sensor.”

“It feels that dangerous!” Paint insisted, lashing her tail and looking away.

I said, “I guess you can’t really drive slower without being late, huh?”

“Oh, some deliveries have plenty of time. But it’s still too high off the ground.”

“Can I try?” I asked again. “It really doesn’t sound that scary to me.”

“Sure, why not.” Mur tightened the fuel cap and consulted the checklist. “We’re almost done here.”

The rest of the checklist was quick. I helped by holding things and occasionally reaching with my long human arms, while Paint was in charge of the toolbox and unscrewing things with her claws.

“Annnd done!” Mur said as he finished the checklist with a flourish. “Let’s take it outside where you won’t crash into a wall.”

“I thought you said there were impact sensors for that,” I reminded him as he clambered into the seat.

“Eh, they’re not perfect.”

Paint hit the controls for the bay door, toolbox already set aside, and I followed as the hovercycle whirred quietly out onto the alien landing pad.

I reflected that this really was an ideal place to practice riding. Only a couple other ships were parked at the moment, some distance away, and the settlement was set far enough back that people wouldn’t be bothered by the noise and whatnot of landing spaceships. Everything else around us was dry, rolling ground, with hills in the distance and not so much as a cactus to dodge around.

“You twist this to go forward,” Mur said. “Turn it the other way for backward, or just a little to slow down. It’s pretty intuitive once you’re moving.”

“Just don’t twist it too far!” Paint said. “It can go really fast!”

“Right, I’ll be careful,” I said. “Do I steer by leaning or turning the handlebars?”

Mur gave me a few more pointers on the basics, with Paint adding cautionary tips, and soon enough they let me get on. It wasn’t really human-shaped like an Earth bike, but it was close.

“Okay, so I’ll just aim to go over that way, then circle back,” I said. “This way for forward, this way for backward?”

“Right,” Mur said, tentacle-walking up onto the ramp.

“Start gently!” Paint said as she scampered up beside him.

“Got it.” The motor was already on and burbling away, so I held on tight and gave the throttle a minuscule twist. The bike scooted forward.

With Mur and Paint offering encouragement behind me, I eased it out across the smooth ground with no trouble, giving a couple experimental leans to get a feel for the auto-balancing mechanism. It really was good. Then I sped up a little, and was honestly impressed with the stabilizing gyros or whatever. Even on sharp turns, I didn’t feel like I was in danger of being thrown off or skidding out of control, which was pretty great. I still had a traumatizing memory of bike-riding as a kid and running over a tin can that slid out from under me. But there would be no scraped-up arms today! This hoverbike knew what it was doing. I gave it some proper speed.

I zoomed over a couple low hills, laughing at the change in pitch while the hover engines adjusted to catching air. I spun in tight circles and a gradual curve, leaving a faint trail of dust behind me where the wind of my passing had kicked it up.

Then I got a look back at my coworkers on the ship’s ramp, and they were waving their hands urgently. I straightened out and looked around in alarm; was some local beastie or natural disaster right behind me?

Nope. Not unless it was invisible. Which I wasn’t ruling out.

I powered back toward the ship, worried now, and braked to a stop that felt pretty darn perfect for my first time out.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Paint yelled, rushing over.

“Yeah, why?” I looked behind myself again.

“Wait, you weren’t out of control?” Mur demanded. “You were going that fast on purpose?”

“Uh, yeah? Should I not have?” I took in their worried faces. “It felt pretty safe. You’re right about the balance; that’s great.”

“WHAT?” Paint exclaimed while Mur laughed. “Why would you go that fast on purpose?”

“It’s fun?” I asked, shrugging. “I really didn’t think it was that big a deal. Do neither of you like going fast ever? I mean I can understand not wanting to worry about getting an urgent delivery there on time, but what about casual joyriding?”

The way Paint was sputtering for an answer and Mur wasn’t even trying to come up with one told me I’d stumbled into another unexpected bit of culture clash.

Paint finally settled on, “No, that is terrifying!”

Mur straightened up from where he’d collapsed into a puddle of tentacles and helpless laughter. “I’ve been doing all the time-crunch bike deliveries because I can hold on best! You’re doing the next one.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling a bit myself. “You know I thought you were trying to tell me there was something chasing me, right?”

Paint covered her eyes. “I can’t believe you flew over that big hill deliberately.”

“Oh, that was great!” I said. “I want to do that again. Can I?”

Paint spun to walk back up the ramp. “Have fun! I’ll tell whoever’s in the cockpit not to call for bandages unless you ask.”

Mur told her, “You should probably tell the captain about the roster change too.”

“On it!”

“Thanks,” I said. When Mur waved me forward, I zoomed back out into the desert for more joyriding. It really was fun. I made sure not to do anything reckless like standing up during a jump, as much as I wanted to. The crew in the cockpit was probably worried enough already.

I looked forward to the next urgent delivery, though.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #hovercycles #hoverbikes #humans like going fast #but who doesn't right?#...right?

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doublekanble · 2 months

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heart

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic-platonic

word count: 5.5k

or, alastor is a man of many things, and you believed he can never love without hurting his love. tw: a small paragraph of al eating your heart.

1. “–I was right.” you coughed, the more you do, the more your voice choked on itself. Your body seized and shuddered with every beat of your heart as blood spew from the wound, already giving up on getting yourself away when you can barely breathe. He wishes he could’ve made it easier for you, but he got caught up. “you really are selfish…”

As the hand he’s holding onto quickly grew cold, Alastor hoped, for all its worth, that when he fall, however long it’ll takes, you’ll find the strength to finally accept his love for you. For now, he set his left ear over your heart, his hair stained red, Alastor listened closely for what he thought was the last time, as you and your life stops entirely.

(having done this time and time again, for the first time in a long time, he felt a longing for warmth, your warmth, the one seeping from you and dissipating with the cold air in the night.)

2. If there is ever a need to described himself, then Alastor would be the first to say that he is a man of many thing.

The charming popular radio host of New Orleans, the life of the party, a bachelor second to none. He’s your friendly neighbor who greets you with a smile and a caring friend. He’s the perfect son and an amiable stranger. Everything you want, he will be. Everything, except all you ever wanted from him is someone to talk to.

You’ve always a strong fascination for writing from years gone by. From the gloomy and miserable words of a poor but astute poet, riddled with nihilism and pain, to a long-gone romanticist who wrote fairy tales and chasing love he couldn’t held in his hand, or a myth, lost to time and rewritten over and over again. All the books you ever care to curated in your home is that of the classic and the dead.

Perhaps that’s why he’d grown so attached to you and the poetry you sewn into existence with clumsy words.

With his unfortunate lot in life despite his mother’s best effort –god bless that woman, Alastor would, in time, learn how to play charade better than anyone else, barely remembering the last time he bother to show care to anyone else with love and honesty rather than bemusement. He doesn’t need moth-bitten books to guide him through conversation when he can just as easily play the role of a salesman, granting you the option to pick between a piece of stale bread or the last supper. But only a salesman in the end, his words and gestures is with all the saccharine and none of the sugar.

Although he could never hope to weaves paintings with his word, ever only a mockery of one, Alastor welcome his shortcoming in strides, as long as people bought into his act. For the love he lacks in his heart, valuable you, his treasured companion, would make up for it all.

In stark contrast to his hidden callousness, you were a much more genuine person. The books and stories you gathered throughout your short-lived life give you a means to convey the feelings that made up your whole existence. In the occasion where he manage to pick the right topic, you would choose to hastily penned out your thoughts, writings border-on obsessive as you speak of vivid strokes of emotions no single word in any language can ever hope to capture. And yet, your heart, enraptured by the scenery, frantically beat so loudly in your chest as you speak of worlds end and death departed with shared poison; it would also spoke of a love so ordinary and mundane.

You’d never mourned the Danish storyteller that chased love endlessly, simple deeming it a life worth living. He wondered if you ever regretted telling him that.

(you sing praises to the odds and the out of sort while cursing at the commonplace of life, Alastor charmed the ordinary and laugh at the macabre death brings. as long as you’re there by his side, he have no need to love anything else.)

3. Just like everything else about you, your close proximity to Alastor is not the standard, and should always be seen as an exception.

That evening, you both got shooed away after a particularly early dinner, his mother’s only excuses was that you, the esteemed and beloved guest, already help with cooking, so it’s only natural you’ll get to spend the rest of the stay resting up. Even if the most you ever did was being so horrendous at chopping veggies, Alastor ended up taking over your load instead.

He laugh about it, saying that you’re pretending so you don’t have to do the work. His mother slapped him on the back of his head, while he nearly chop off his own fingers, she comforts you about your culinary skill. You smile at him when she turns her back on you both, knowing full well Alastor’s fighting his instinct to throw the first thing in his hand at you.

You two stand awkwardly on the porch and stare at the only available seat before Alastor argues that he did the most work so he should take the rocking chair. You point out how he’s practically whispering in the hope of his mother not noticing, he doesn’t bother to deny it.

After some mindless chatter, Alastor would suddenly joke about how if he were to ever read the same works as you, maybe he’ll be able to conceived a love so vicious and gentle too. You, sitting just by his feet, only gives him a sheepish smile. It wasn’t until before you’re at the front of his door, already bid his mother goodbye and ready to go back, that you would throw a remark at him.

“I think you’re a pretty vicious guy on your own,” you walk the three step down and continued through the front walk nonchalantly, hands in your coat pocket instead of linking with his like usual. “If you were to love someone, you’ll hurt them in the end. Even if you were to read all of my books.”

You stand at his gate. Although you’re waiting to see whether he’s going to go with you, you might as well have been gauging his reaction. Unconsciously, as he catches your gaze, he relaxed his grip and stride towards you like a panther to a sitting duck.

“You’re welcomed to, by the way. Just don’t dog-tag them.” Faint stinging shot through the heart of his hands from where his nails was digging into. His laugh sounds more like choking as he ignores your offer for now.

“Now, I wasn’t aware you have such a dreadful view of me, let alone thinking I can’t – what?” incredulously, Alastor barks “Love?! HAH!I supposed one of us are going to have to break that pathetic news to my mother.”

The moment he reach you, he catches a soft sigh falling from your lips, “It’s not that I think you can’t, Al.” the nickname that he imprinted on your frontal lobe sounded like nails on chalkboard, “It’s that I think you shouldn’t.”

“How delightful…”

You turned and began to walk on your own. If Alastor was anyone else, he would’ve taken this at face value and get offended at your eccentricity.

“And where, pray tell, does these impressions of yours come from?” He snatched your left arm, pulling it from its resting place and do the job himself. You give him a look, he smiles.

“I’ve been watching you.” His expression must’ve been something, enough for you to instantly stop on the sidewalk as you stammered and tries to pull your arm from him. “Not like that you deviant! I was just trying to get a read on you, since everyone kept talking about you being unattached and all.”

“Yes, yes, I know. What now, you want in on the chase? It’s ok dear, I know I’m utterly irresistible!” Refusing to let go of you, he only laugh on as you scowl. It’s well known to everyone that Alastor have been available for the longest time since anyone ever known him. It was also a well-kept mystery, the fact he have never courted a single person throughout his entire life.

“Utterly hogwash, that’s what you are.” Huffing to yourself, you finally would relent your arm to him. Your shared steps echoing across the darkening street, it’s near curfew. “I do have to say, I see what they meant, about you being a good spouse and all that,” He smiles a bit brighter at that, “But I just can’t see you being vulnerable with anyone else. You despises things not going your way, and love just have too much uncertainty!”

“Yes, yes,” he repeats, as if soothing you from a tantrum, “Weak and frail Alastor, the poor soot of New Orleans, unable to tear his ribcages open and show everyone his organs the same way his beloved whimsical friend here does every day ~.” You hiss as he settled his own weight against you with his head on your shoulder, nearly knocking the both onto the ground, “I guess you’ll just have to be with me for the rest of your life then! If you don’t, I’ll simply drown in my own piled up misery! What a life it’ll be!”

“Sure you will. Now get off and take me back home you dramatic coot.”

4. At that time, there was no need for Alastor to inquire your meaning of “vicious”.

In direct contrast to your trusting nature, you’re also perceptive and doubtful to a fault. The first slight of your tongue was a comment on how he can stop smiling around you. Always with that same gaze as you have now, lying underneath him. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he said to you that day. But it was enough for you to stood up and walked from the table with a ten-dollar bill pin under your half-finished lemon tea. The issue was quickly resolved with a phone call to your home, but he quickly learned that you don’t take kindly to – and quite frankly, refused to participate in – saccharine sweet insult.

But at what point did he stop hiding himself and let you read him freely, he thought. If he bit down on his tongue until he bleeds and shut you out like how he did to so many others who couldn’t even take one step near him, then maybe something could’ve turn out differently.

Replaying that moment over and over in his head, for the first time in his life, Alastor think about the concept of love, really think about it. It simply was an aspect of life that he never pay mind to, equating it with romance book and kissing under starry skies, and thus, utterly useless. When he think of love, all he have to go off of is his dear old mother, who sacrifices and suffers so much for him, which, in time, he pay her back with everything he have. His life was only about her and himself and the bodies under the forest floor and it was everything he wanted and more. Until one rainy day, with his eyes on the script he’s writing out for tomorrow’s broadcast, bleary-eyed and hearing the bed calling his name, he thought about you.

When he came to, he already dropped his coffee cup. The brown liquid burns, even through his slipper.

After that, Alastor would start picking out books from your carefully curated shelves, sitting in your armchair and skims through the lines while you spread across the ground like an old cat, he tried to find the feelings that you described to him in the same page you’d read a million times and over. But as he does so, he would soon find that there’s not a single word in any of those old and yellowed pages of yours that is able to captured the quickly spreading rot in his heart. In a frenzied, Alastor would burn through your small library faster than you could ever hope for.

(Alastor knows that time and time, again and again, as long as you’re willing to reach for his hand, he will never let go of yours.

at some point, he’d stop caring about whether you’re willing to at all. why would he, when the meaning of being able to love you became all he care to know at all.)

“You don’t need to love like I do, you know that, right?”

He turns to you, on your stomach, lying in your nest of blankets and pillows with a pencil in hand putting down incomprehensible charcoal shape.

“Bragging now, are we?” he gets up from the armchair and settled down by your side, eyes watching your hand while propping the book he was reading in his lap. You crank your neck and stare at him with a look, “And how are you so sure I want to love like you, dear?”

“You’ve been plowing through my books.”

He sends you a beaming smile, acting innocent while playing with your hair.

“You offered.”

“Aren’t they all the one I told you about?”

Your eyes on the book he’s holding, then the one he just placed back into the shelves. It feels like he’s back in his mother’s kitchen, with his dirty nails behind his back and a poor excuse for the missing bread on the dinner table. Except this time, there’s just you and him in your small living room, and you’re looking awfully smug about it.

Raising his hand in the air, he sigh pitifully, “Ah~, guilty as charged, darling.” and offers nothing else. The silence afterward is enough of a white flag anyway.

Pleased with what you got from him, you turn back to your work, seemingly unaware (or even worse, maybe you don’t care at all) about the gnawing in his chest and the storm raging in his head while his hand weaves through your hair.

The last time you talked to him about love, you more-or-less called him and his love hazardous. While Alastor have no trouble with accepting it from anyone else, with you, it feels as if you’re discarding a part of him to the dogs. Although his knowledge on many topics far exceeds yours, when it came to pure and genuine emotions from the heart, you’d know enough to examine him under all type of love there is, and time after time you’d deemed him impossible to ever love. And despite knowing loving and love is wholly separate, it tears him open to even considers that you’d thought of him as unable to love and be loved and something about it is just so incredibly agonizing to the point of wanting to rip you open so you can see just how unlovable you are too.

But in your living room, sitting right next to you the way no one else is allowed to. He sigh, making sure his words doesn’t come off as unpleasant as he feels.

“If I don’t have to love like you, then how do you supposed I should be doing it?”

“I’m not sure, but hopefully not at all.” You said offhandedly, but you might as well just drove a knife through his stomach, but it’s you, so he let it be, “If you can’t help yourself though, you’ll probably do something really horrible.”

“What do you supposed I’ll do?”

You turn to him, a hint of surprise in your eyes at how close he is now, but you let him be, “Undecided. But you seems like the type to let it eats you alive.”

“I’ll let my love eats me?” Laughing in disbelief, he could almost call you cute with how you nodded to yourself, resolute in your idea about him.

“You’ll let it eats you, yes.”

Alastor chuckled to himself as he tap your sketchbook twice, you hand it to him.

“Well, I’ll need to make sure that I won’t be alone, aren’t I?”

You laugh openly and said that’s true, he’s too selfish to be taken alone. Alastor couldn’t care about how much of that was just more of your usual jest and how much of it is your view of who he is. If you, who love so selflessly and readily, agrees without push back, that someone as selfish as him will doomed whoever it is that he loves so much, then who is he to deny.

At that time, the line of charcoal you put onto the paper come together to show a shadow of a small man dragging a coat by his unseen feet, a mock-up from one of the stories that you loved. Alastor stop wondering if he ever could love something like the poems and stories you’ve read a million times over, instead, he think it’s best if he loves the way you expected him to, the way he can see himself doing.

6. To be loved is to be changed.

You told him this while he stand in your kitchen, trying to shoo you back to the table so he can work without fuzzing over you. And now, while he’s holding you, so cold and so unlike you, Alastor wondered whether you would like it if your bones were to be buried in the same spot as the others.

As much as he’d love to keep it near with him, there’s not a single excuse in the whole round earth that can ever help him convinced his mother of letting him uprooted the garden out back and buried you down there, neither can he bring you with him everywhere. Alastor wants to try taking you to the morgue after he’s done, but how do you explain bringing in a set of skeleton with missing ribs? It’s simple, really.

You don’t.

He lifted you up in his arms and sat back on his sofa, your lulling head settled just below his chin, wanted to savor what’s left of you for just a bit more before rigor mortis sets in and makes you even less of what you are now. The gramophone in the corner of his room spewed utter nonsense as Alastor closes his eyes.

It’s Tuesday tomorrow, but he will have to roll up his sleeves and get to work on cleaning out one of the guest room in his hunting lodge if he doesn’t want the ants to take you first. He’ll have to call in sick, too. Alastor likes to think that when he sees you again, you’ll at least have the will to appreciate the troubles he went through for you and not complaint about being locked up inside. You and the love you have for him, akin to small river, a gentle stream, with orange and yellow leaves floating across, tucked in a forest somewhere. It widdled down the rocks and carved a path for itself. The same one that you oh so heartlessly withheld from Alastor.

You'd appreciate being bury in such a scenery, it’s a shame you won’t be, though your body would’ve made way for the prettiest flowers. But you’ll have to take what he can afford to give. To be loved is to be changed, after all.

(when, not if. having gone on for this long, he’s sure that you’re suspended in between life and death in the hell you refuses to ever believe in. half of him prayed that there’s not a river there so you can drown yourself in it just to forget all about him. the other half prayed you’ll remember nothing at all, even of the literature you love so much.

at some point, where will you stop being yourself? when you forget enough of yourself? Alastor doesn’t need to care about the semantics. he knows he’ll choose you time and again, even if you forget how you love.)

7. You take your time reading through farewell letters.

Unless the cats and dogs on the street can write, then there’s only a few, you kept a significantly smaller number of friends by your side. But it must’ve been hard to even focus with Alastor sitting right next to you.

“Darling, surely we can-“

“Please don’t make this any harder than it already was, Alastor.”

Desperately holding onto your wrist and halted your pace for just a second, he all but plead a hopeless case.

“You’re not thinking straight! Are you really just going to up and leave because someone told you so? After living your whole life here?!”

Your hand, moving like clockwork, already finished with the letters, refusing to stay in his. You pulled back from him and place the rest of the letters in a small wooden box with a deer carved on its lid. “You know it’s not just that.”

In times like these, he wonders if it was himself who have gone mad. As if the whole world is in on one big joke and you are just following along with it. Any moment now, you’ll burst into laughter and tell him that everything is a lie. You’re not moving to Washington to help a friend you know for some years with their business, and you’re not leaving him, not after everything he showed you. But you’re holding onto the letter with his mother’s name written on the front with misty eyes as if you have no other choice. So he held you by the shoulders to the point digging his nails into it and turned you to look at him.

“Then what else is there?! For Christ sakes-“ you look as if this is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do in your life, he felt as if this is the hardest battle he have to fight, “Please, mon Chéri, talk to me...”

Alastor collapse onto you, his whole weight pins you down on your small couch. Head on your chest, he listens as your heart beats just a bit faster. You let him.

“…what do you think we are, Alastor?”

Without hesitation, he reply.

“We are whatever you want us to be. Whatever it takes for you to stay.”

For someone like you, a romantic at heart, just like who he is now, that should’ve been enough for you to at least considers the possibility of forgetting about what’s right and wrong. For sure, it would’ve been enough for you to stay, if you were anyone else.

But you’re you, and he’s only himself. The romantic in you see through his act for the longest time and still fall in love with him, but just like how your love is selfless and kind, it’s also viciously rational. If you were anyone else, you would’ve ignored the rational part of yours.

“I’m sorry, Alastor.” All this time, he was desperately proving himself to you. Doing everything in his power just so you’re willing to forget your rationale and love him just as much as he loves you. “We’ll die loving each other.”

He doesn’t care if he die, Alastor wants to scream out. He’s ready to die to love you, he have been screaming out all this time. But despite all of his effort, you deemed him a love not worth chasing after till death, while he already planned the path to hell with you.

Your fingers, shaky and gentle, brush through his hair. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have to place himself bare and vulnerable like this. But if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t have love you at all. And if it’s death holding you back from loving him, then so be it.

8. For a long time now, Alastor knows you more than anyone else.

You were never a dancer, not by choice either. Its pathetic in the cutest way, how you froze up and refused to move, the way you stutters and try to pull from him only ever makes him want to bully you more. But from the way your brows draws together, to the way you’d tripped over yourself chasing after his footstep, all of it, Alastor earned from you.

From the way you stayed up overnight, to how the bottom of your shoes dragged against the pavement as you walk. From the tip of your pencil, to the bottom of your bookshelves. Every books on your shelves and every sketches. Alastor swear with all his life that no one else knows better than him when it came to you.

He knows intimately the curves you’d penned on your signatures; he knows how you’d change your mind at a moment notice about anything, he knows how you take with you small things on the side of the road that you deemed pretty enough and he knows you still have a lot you want to do here that you’ve told your lovely friend. So it’s only normal for Alastor, the person you grown to love so much, to know exactly why you refuses to even considers being by his side, and it’s just his luck that he also knows just how to write a letter with words just like yours.

So when was it that you got a friend you trusted so wholeheartedly, so faithfully, so much so, you’re your dearly cherished Alastor became a second thought in your mind? Weren’t you a romantic? Weren’t romantics idiots who can’t think straight when it come to love? So why was it that you alone refuses to let yourself love him and remained so loyal to someone you only considered a friend, someone who couldn’t even tell your lettering from his? Was it them? Who fed you lies after lies to captured you in their own hands? Was it them who taught you the telling and sign of a madman? Is that why your view of him was so horrible, you' refused to ever fathom life with him?

He knows you would’ve hated him for this, but Alastor adores you, and sometimes you just don’t know what’s best for you, even when it’s staring at you from across the front walk and following you to your home.

So if someone as rational as you can be swayed back to his lodge for just one more visit, then your friend surely can be swayed too, to come and visit you some other time, down here in your beloved New Orleans.

9. If anyone ever ask anyone else, then they will say that Alastor, beloved local radio host of New Orleans, is a man of many things. But if they were to ask you, then he’s one of the person you cherished the most, and your dearest friend.

He’s everything, the charming popular radio host of New Orleans, the life of the party, a bachelor that’s second to none. Alastor plays himself as your friendly neighbor who will always greets you with a smile and a clenched fist behind his back, hiding a stain just on the cuff of his sleeve in the early morning, a caring friend that offers you help just in the nick of time. Alastor is his mother’s perfect son, who spent more time comforting her about your whereabouts than to care for his own fracturing mind; an amiable stranger, gripping the newspaper detailing yet another disappearance with a bit too much force. Everything you have ever wanted him to be, he was. And yet, to his utter bewilderment and maddening grief, you refused to let him be anyone other than a friend you talked to about everything.

In the letters you saved from your beloved pen pal-turn-missing person, they would call you mature and wise. Sentimental words and kind, to his eyes, all are but hollowed gestures advising, agreeing, and offering you a place up in Washington until you can forget all about him and move on with your life, leaving Alastor to be nothing more than a nostalgic blot on the tablecloth, nothing more than yearning in early Junes. Until you forget the fact you ever love him at all, all because you decided that you couldn’t afford to let yourself be love by him.

Keeping all of it in mind, Alastor decides your dear friend should be bury far away from the comfort of your room. Three years, seven months and eleven days after your death, Alastor dragged a body into the woods. Not just any old one like usual, but not anything else too special.

It’s odd, even though you’ve been gone for the more than a year by now, it’s almost as if you’ve neve left his side. Maybe it’s the rest of you, lying peacefully in your nest of pillows and blankets, in your room that he diligently maintain. Maybe it’s your shared books he sometimes takes from his shelves and skims through in the dead of night after a hard day. Maybe it’s the locked box, sitting by his work desk welcoming him home after a night out, the same one he held in his hands, void of blood and anything else.

Or maybe it’s the reverberating sounds of heartbeat, so unlike his own. In both his waking days, in his reveries, over the sounds of the jazz band down in his favorite speakeasy and following him into the woods. Ever so silently, oh-so gently, utterly viciously in his left ear.

In any other case, Alastor finds he absolutely adores the idea of your ghost haunting him until his fell into his grave.

(you said that he should never love because he couldn’t be in control. he mourn the fact you never even let him prove you wrong. Alastor would’ve let you dance on his rotting corpse if that’s what it takes for you to let him call you his.)

10.

Somewhere in his heart, Alastor had hoped that you of all people can evade the hand of rots.

It’s a genuine shame that in the end, all of the words in the world will do nothing to stop you from sharing the lot with the others, he thought, staring down from where he straddled you with his hand peeling off layers of skins and fat. Warm fingers brushes against your hollowed cheek, before raising a small hammer and bringing down onto your bare chest. Alastor wants to preserve you for as long as possible, but to do that properly, he might as well take all of your innards out and sewn you up. It’s not that he’s not open to that idea, Alastor love every part of you. It’s just that he’s sure you’ll be extremely upset when you find out. So he’ll have to get comfortable with doing things the hard way, no matter how hard it is to do so.

With steady fingers in spite of the drumming in his ears, Alastor patiently picks out every pieces of bones he could, placing them into a small, wooden box. With a wistful smile, he closes the lid and set it aside. He miss you already.

Pushing your lungs out of the way, he dig his hands in. With blood runs up to his wrist, Alastor tries to be as gentle as he can while pulling your heart out. One hand holding onto it, another carefully cutting away everything that ties it to your body.

Distinctly, every part of you was always warm, and over time, Alastor, who’s hands are as cold as winter itself, find comfort in your touch. It was almost like you were made just for him, and him, you. And now, with your heart, cold and silent in his hand, Alastor realized what a miserable life it will be to go on living without your warmth with him from now on until he’s six feet under. But it’s ok, he’s sure of it, because above all else, what he’s been chasing after this whole time is in his hand.

For a brief moment, Alastor wondered if he were to meet you in another lifetime, one where you aren’t so complicated and so in love with the idea of living a fair life and a right love, would you have let yourself be wrong and love him. But he’s glad that your love, with all its beautiful intricacies that causes him this much pain, with a wound in it, still look as beautiful as he hoped.

Sinking his teeth into it, into you, the taste of iron and metallic flooded his mouth and drown his senses as he closed his eyes shut and nearly buckled under the taste of you. There’s not a single word in the book to describe the visceral sensations running through his blood and spreading through his every veins. Alastor shivers, the back of his head felt numb, his fever grows as he desperately takes his time and savor you. It’s a shame you can’t last forever, but he’ll take what he can get for now.

(as his teeth tears into your veins, he hears a sounds, so familiar, somewhere in the corner of his ears. it wasn’t until he caught his own heart beating that he realized that the rhythm he’s hearing isn’t his at all.

until the day you two can meet again, until then. he pray he will never forget the sounds of your heart, beating so gently.)

#alastor #hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots

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sourbinnie · 11 months

Text

☆ overcome.mp3 ☆

/ happy ending /

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst with a hopeful ending ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> ot8!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> forgiveness doesn't come easy but they already knew that. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

first part -> hyung line | maknae line

a/n: here's the happy ending that i promised and we're done with the series ¡! you can choose which ending you prefer to read.

chan ✉

staying all alone that night made you process a whole lot of things. mostly how much you loved chan and how much he meant to you for you to give up. but that didn't mean that what he said didn't hurt you and affect you in a way. second chances are not given, they're earned and you wanted for him to prove that. for him to show you that he really wanted this and he wanted it as much as you did.

when he opened the door in the morning to check on you, he didn't expect to still find you in your shared bedroom. even after crying all your tears out, you didn't have the strength to face him because you didn't wanna give in too easily. you were determined to try and make him understand what you felt.

"hey babe. i called but you did not answer." he said simply and you just looked at him taking in his appearance. the bags under his eyes, the clothes that he wore yesterday and the regret in his voice. "i don't even know where to start, i just don't know why i said that and i'm sorry."

"i know. i just needed some time chris, it's okay. well i mean what you said it's not okay but i don't wanna lose what we have." you said as you grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and holding onto them. "but i need you that if something like this happens again, i won't hesitate to walk out the door."

"i won't take you for granted. i just need one more chance and i'll show you what you truly are worth. i just can't believe i said those things and-." he tried to explain again but you stopped him

"chris. i know and let's try not to repeat that mistake, okay? i'd rather not talk about it because i don't wanna remember but just please know that i'll stay." you said and he sighed as he nodded. he felt like a weight was off his chest but at the same time he knew he had to be better and do better. it hurt to know that he hurt you but this was his chance to fix it.

minho ✉

you knew how he was. he was 100% gonna chase after you left even if you insisted that you wanted to be alone tonight. you still hoped he would come after you anyways, even if it still hurt. even if he found the worst words possible to express his anger, you wanted to see him. it might've been delusional or stupid but you needed to hear him say sorry a few more times.

and there he was, absolutely exhausted from running. leaving his work scene even after winning another show but caring a bit more about saving his relationship than celebrating with his bandmates. you looked at him right in the eye and you could sense regret but you needed to hear from him first.

"baby, love, jagi i'm so fucking sorry." lee minho was on his knees in a public scenery begging for forgiveness. you would've never painted this picture in your mind but here it was right in front of you. "i would do anything for you if i have to. i know i look like a fool and you're probably dying of embarrassment but if you decide to end things, i don't think i'm gonna be able to take it."

"just like i'm not taking what just happened. listen minho and please get up." like he was in your command, he got up immediately. "i don't know what your ex boyfriends/girlfriends were like but i'm not gonna stand the hurtful comments you make. however i'm not gonna let you go but i need some time yeah?"

"how much time?" you've never seen him so determined yet so desperate at the same time. he really wanted to be with you and it showed but it wasn't enough. actions spoke louder than words and you hoped he would demonstrate that.

"i'll let you know, for now just let me be." you said walking away not before he hugged you tightly and did not let go for a solid minute. you ruffled his hair as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. maybe time would heal the open wounds after all.

changbin ✉

"did you truly feel that way?" you asked when he arrived home from the studio. you were so ready to leave but you needed to know before you did if this was anger speaking or if he truly felt what he said. you were a firm believer that words were spoken for a reason. he sighed and left his things before looking at you, trying to take in the scene that you might just leave him if you didn't say the right things.

"no. i could never feel that way about you even if i wanted to. i was angry and that's not an excuse but i need you to know that the truth is that. take me or leave me, i would rather you be with someone who didn't provoke as much damage as i did tonight." he said and you could see the tears coming out like a cascade. it hurt to see him this way and you didn't know what to do. "love i'm sorry, i know i don't deserve it but would you please stay tonight?"

"why? what's gonna change?" you asked, crossing your arms as you looked at him. he looked so fragile and broken at the same time. he expected for you to be mad but you just looked disappointed and that hurt even more. "binnie please say anything just to make me wanna stay."

"i love you. i want to be with you so badly even if all my insecurities are telling me no right now, i need you so bad. i know i'm not enough, i know i shouldn't have said any of those words, fuck them, i always wanted you and that's never gonna change." he said wiping his tears away and getting close to you. you didn't take a step back this time as you took in your arms and cried with him. "i won't ever make you feel like that ever again (y/n), please stay."

"okay. i'll stay for tonight but we'll talk in the morning clearly yeah?" you said as he nodded. he needed to make things right this time and not let you down.

hyunjin ✉

you could hear a lot of movement coming from the other side of the door. you thought hyunjin left but it looked like he didn't as you headed towards your kitchen where the noise was coming. he was there doing the dishes, he had done every task that was left unattended before. if that made him think that he was gonna forgive you, then he didn't know you.

"yes i know. it's not enough but i was complaining like an idiot and not doing anything." he said as he sighed looking at you. you were still mad at his comments and it looked like it wasn't gonna be easy for him but then again that's what he loved about you, you stood there proud like you were. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have said anything and i don't know what it was that put me in a mood to say that shit to you. it doesn't matter, what matters is you and i hope you know that i will change if i have to because i can't be creating drama like this anymore."

"it's not that jinnie. i usually don't mind putting up with it but today it was too much. your words just hurt me in a way, made me feel like i was worth less than you and them for that matter." you explained and he nodded. he felt like crying but he didn't want to in front of you. he felt hopeless and so fucking sad that he made you feel like this.

"i know. i'm sorry, you're worth more than i could ever ask for and i don't want you to feel any different. i know it's not easy what you do and i'm gonna help around more because we're a team right? we both need to put in the effort." he said as he got close to you, carefully planting a kiss on your forehead.

"a team, i like that." you muttered as you gave in to his arms and rested your head on his chest.

jisung ✉

being without jisung was hell but you needed time. even if he tried to contact you in every way that he could, it went ignored for now. it was probably painting the worst image on his mind but one day you showed up back to the apartment you shared together. it surprised you to see him there, sleeping on the couch, you would've thought he was staying at the dorms.

"baby? you're here?" he asked as he opened his eyes and tried to compose himself in front of you. he got up so fast, he almost fell but he tried to put on his best look as he didn't know why you were here. well it was your house but after what happened, he lived there thinking the worst. "babe can we talk?"

"yeah that's why i came here. to give you a chance to explain yourself." you said firmly and it took him by surprise just like your arrival. he wanted a second chance so badly so he decided to look for the best words and to tell you the absolute truth of it all.

"okay. i'm gonna start by saying i'm sorry and letting you know that even if i did fuck up real bad, i still want you and only you more than anyone or anything. i don't think you're difficult and i definitely don't think you're bad. i just said the worst words at the worst time didn't i? now that i'm saying it out loud i don't think i even deserve a second chance. but i'm gonna fight for you every day because i truly believe you're the one (y/n)." he said and he expected not to cry but he still felt the sobs leaving his body anyways.

you welcomed him in your arms as he couldn't stop crying and sighed. jisung wasn't truly mean spirited, he wouldn't say words like that because he meant them you thought. it would take long to heal but you were willing to give him another chance.

"it's okay. we're okay but we still need to talk about it whenever we can yeah?" you said as he responded "yesyesyes" which made you laugh. you wiped his tears away and hoped that things like these wouldn't happen again.

felix ✉

i waited an entire day to text felix again. as much as i was doubting myself, thinking that maybe i am too clingy, there was a part of me hoping he didn't mean it at all. expecting that the worst was just out of anger or fear and not a pure emotion he was feeling so hurtful and devastating. i got an immediate response saying he would come over and before i could respond, he was already at the door.

opening up the door to see a distraught and tired felix was a surprise. it was a competition through your mind telling you that you shouldn't care about what he did but in the end your tender side always won as you took in his appearance.

"love i'm sorry. i'm so fucking sorry." he repeated over and over as he came in but he didn't just pass through, he fell right into my arms as i held him. "i'm the fucking clingy one, i'm the one who can't be without you and you're not a bother at all. i invited you and every frustration got the best of me and i took it out on the person i love the most and i-."

"i know." i didn't exactly know because there was still this side of me that was deeply hurt by his words. but i was willing to understand where he was coming from and what was happening that led him to get so angry.

"i don't deserve your forgiveness. i don't even deserve to be standing here in front of you or you holding me but please know that i will always be sorry about this." he said looking me in the eye. bloodshot eyes suddenly closing as i leaned in and met him for a kiss. it was a painful one because it felt like a last one but i savoured every moment that i could get with felix.

"i still want you felix." i said and he closed the gap again as he met me for another kiss. he wanted me as much as i did and sometimes doing something about it spoke louder than a million words.

seungmin ✉

as you unlocked the door of your unshared bedroom, you didn't expect seungmin to be sleeping on the floor on the other side. you crouched down as you slowly poked him to wake him up and that's when he opened his eyes, they were reddish and his hair was a mess.

"i didn't even notice i fell asleep at the door." he said as you both got up and the tension was still there. you didn't know how to feel and he didn't know what to say exactly. he was convinced you were mad at him but you just looked so sad that it broke him. even when you closed the door and he pretended to walk away, he stayed. he wanted to see you so bad yet every part of him knew that you needed to be alone.

"minnie do you actually want to break up with me?" you asked and you never saw him shake his head so fast. he didn't cry very often but he was willing to cry in front of you if it meant that you would see how sorry he was.

"never in a million years. i know what i said is not okay and that i should've never mentioned it in the first place." he said as he took your hands and looked at you again. "i'm sorry love, i'm sorry for making you feel unappreciated and unloved because that's the thing i want you to feel the least."

"i just thought you were going to leave me when you said that." you sincerely said and if his heart didn't break before, the sight and the words before him were killing his heart slowly.

"no, never. you can't get rid of me that easily baby. i will always stay and tell you the truth." he said as he kissed your cheek and as soon as he placed it, you gave him a little smile that warmed his heart back again. maybe you wouldn't get over this quickly but then again he did not expect that to happen, he would be there in the healing process.

jeongin ✉

he did let you go that night but he insisted that he wanted to talk every minute of the day after it. as much as you thought that you needed time, you needed to see him again before it all crumbled apart. he was there waiting for you in your apartment as you got back from work. who knows how long he had been standing there, looking a mess and hoping for the best.

"(y/n), god i missed you." it filled your heart with so many feelings that you could not express the way he said those words. you were so hurt and you could tell by just looking at him that he wasn't doing well either. he wanted to lean in for a kiss or just have you in his arms again but he contained himself from doing so.

"i missed you too innie. i think we need to talk before... we do anything." you said and he nodded as he stood there awkwardly but he knew it was his turn to talk, to mend things and to make it right this time like he didn't do it that night.

"i'm sorry, i know that it wasn't an okay thing to say. i know exactly why i'm with you and i wouldn't want to be with anyone else in any other way. i want you because you've taught me so much, showed me so much of myself and loved me unconditionally from the start." he was in the verge of tears but he swallowed and continued talking. "i don't think i'm able to be without you, just right now it's been hell."

"i feel the same way, i don't like being apart from you even if i'm mad." you said honestly and he nodded 'cause he felt the same way. "i would like to take things slow, i don't forgive you fully but you're there innie. i wish i could erase the pain but i can't."

"i know, i'll show that i mean it baby. i'll show you how i actually feel." he said and you believed him. you truly did want him to show you what needed to be shown. before he could leave, you hugged him so tight and that's when he let the tears actually go.

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evilminji · 4 months

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Pondering Doors Again >.>

Thinking about a concept I saw in a Manhwa. "Dungeons feed of the death that occurs within them" and how the Protagonist went "alright, Bet. A stable and prosperous society for outcasts has a LOT of Death! What with the need to eat food and people growing old and thus, inevitably, at least SOMEONE dying every day".

Because FARMING is and always has been a slower but more profitable way to accumulate food then Hunting. More reliable too.

And? What better way too feed your hunger(HungryHungryHUNGRYItHurtSIMSO-) then by BECOMING a Trap Door? Not every ghost looks human. Not every ghost WANTS too.

Maybe you want to Live. Yes, you are fighting, fighting, fighting. Not even Death can take you. But given half a chance? Given the infinite freedom of the Zone and all of Time stretched out before you? Do you? WANT to think anymore? WANT to keep fighting FOREVER for every scrap of food to fill your endless NEED for food? Your obsession with being full?

You can stop.

Like meditation.

Instead of MAKING a Lair... become one. You could always change your mind, if you felt like it. Souls rarely if ever DO, but you COULD. Then? You wait.

There are house ghosts. Dwellings that die. You blend right in. Are you angry? Vengeful? Do you blame the world? Perhaps you'll call them in. Like Hansel and Gretel. Look upon my house made of candy, children. Isn't it tempting? Isn't it sweet? Come closer. Listen to my siren song.

Chomp.

But, maybe you are tired. Hungry. Old bones and cold, barren soil. Barely the strength to paint gaudy veneers over straining, decaying wood. Like long abandoned circuses. You try for the appearance of cheer, but your tattered visage. betrays you. Yet, just like them, while you may not be able to entice those you truely wish to come? Vermin find safety and comfort in your walls.

And is that not how nature heals? First the weeds? The insects and vermin? Little things that build to great forests over time? Blobs hide within in you. Safely out from underfoot. What do they care, if you can not provide them scenery? You are safe. And they? They feed you in turn.

Like little worker bees. Drifting out, gorging on ectoplasm, and returning. Nesting safely inside you, they radiate that Ectoplasm and leech it into the Lair around them. You feed. And Feed. And FEED.

You make more places to hide for them. Bushes. Trees. You only half remember them now, so the colors are off and the forms shakey at best. The blobs do not care. More flock to you in response. You grow stronger. Make more trees.

You finally, FINALLY attract a curious and skittish ghost. They linger by the entrance. Watching. Uncertain. They know traps and hunters hide out here. Who would leave a perfectly good Lair up for grabs? This is a trick. A nasty little trap. Right? It has to be! Their luck can not be this good.

But it is. Because bottom feeders find each other all the time. Lairs that have little to offer and Ghosts who couldn't possibly defend anything worth keeping. All the Zone is stronger then them, why not be weakling together?

And they always take the chance. Because hope is eternal.

Inching forward in a cautious float, ready to dash away, they eventually realize the Lair really IS up for grabs. It really CAN be theirs. Which of course... means they have to fix it up of course! They are THRILLED. Look at all this ROOM! Why, these trees are LOVELY. A good start! They just gotta tweak THIS and then THAT aaand... there we go! Oooh, now over THERE would be a great place for a- *excited muttering*

And a proper ghost? MUCH better at bringing in Ectoplasm then a blob. Then dive in and out, fetching plants to transplant, decorations, building supplies. They invite their friend to crash with them. Become roommates. Their roommate gets a partner. They meet someone. Eventually somebody has a kid. And so on and so on.

All the while, they are feeding their Lair. Do they know it's not a NORMAL Lair? Yeah. They aren't dumb. Blobs disappear sometimes, if no one leaves for too long. House ghosts don't do that (or so they're told). But? They aren't powerful ghosts. They are weak ones. They CAN'T defend one of the nice spots from jerks who want to take it.

But a Lair that can defend ITSELF? And doesn't seem to want to eat them? Meh. Whatever works, man.

And you know what happens? Eventually, you reach a sustainable mass tipping point. Enough ghosts, set up in houses and cabins and castles and caves. All within a single Trap Lair. That they radiate enough ectoplasm to sustain the Lair itself. Enough that it can FINALLY pull the infamous and legendary "never leave" trick.

What is that trick?

Simple! You are a ghost. You'd kinda like an apple. You get up to leave you Lair to go get one. Oh, hey, an apple tree! That's new. Oh, these are really good! You sit back down. You never leave. Why would you leave? You are happy and have everything here. Your friends and family are here. Have another cake. Sit back down.

That is the trick.

The Trap of the sort of Trap Door.

They are known as Honey Traps. Heaven's Gates. Dream Doors. And they build slow to become quite dangerous. Entire cities exsist inside them. Ghosts go in and never come out. The take the energy you produce, small kernel that it is, and feed it back to you. And Ghosts? Efficient generators that they are, produce far more then they are given. Little into more. Little into greater. Building and building.

Until it has the strength to weave dreams.

Trap and entice. Blind and numb you. Bread and circuses for the masses, pay no attention to the bars that keep you here. You LOVE the comfort of your cage! You can leave whenever you want! You just never want too.

The Lair makes certain of that.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

#danny phantom #danny phantom prompt #dp prompt #minji's ponderings

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gigabyte-flare · 8 months

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He Comes Alive (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: As you settle into your new routine working for Leon, one day he decides to take you on a nice hike where the two of you make a gruesome discovery.

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

This part does contain a graphic depiction of an unalived individual. Reader's discretion is advised.

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

While at first you had been nervous about not meeting Leon’s expectations, you find yourself looking forward to getting up each morning to get ready to work at his house. Before you knew it, a couple weeks had gone by, nestled into a nice routine as October rolled in. Like Leon had told you that night at the gas station, he had you painting, cleaning sawdust off the furniture, holding stuff while he took measurements; stuff you could clearly handle. Each day, he’d hand you a $100 bill from his wallet. At first you’d argue that he was paying you too much, you had agreed on $10 an hour, but he’d insist the extra $20 was a bonus for doing such a good job. You found it impossible to make him budge on this, so you stopped arguing with him about it.

A part of you wonders if Leon just wants the company; out in public, he was quiet and usually kept to himself, but when he was working at his house with you? An actual chatterbox. You learn that he is a retired federal agent of some kind, having come back from a mission in Spain and deciding to retire early in a remote, quiet part of the country. He originally wasn’t planning on buying a fixer-upper, but he told you how he fell in love with the scenery up here.

“It’s only going to get better,” you tell him as you’re painting a wall in his kitchen with a paint roller as he works on installing new cabinets, “wait until the leaves start changing. You’ve never seen anything like fall in New England, I promise.”

Then, to your surprise, Leon began to ask about you. You tell him how you had been forced to go to college for accounting and dropped out when you finally couldn’t take it anymore, much to your father’s disapproval. You watch Leon’s face grow serious as you tell him about how hard your father is on you.

“You really need to stand up for yourself, sweetheart,” you must have heard Leon tell you a thousand times now.

“I know,” you reply, “but he just wants what’s best for me. He just has a weird way of showing he cares. I promise he’s not a mean guy.”

You continue to tell Leon about your family until Leon finally interjects, “Not to change the subject, but can I ask you a personal question?”

You stop mid-roll with the paint roller, looking over at him as he finishes installing another cabinet door, “sure. Shoot.”

“Got a boyfriend?”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat; that certainly wasn’t a question you expected him to ask. Leon must see the look of shock on your face, because he immediately starts apologizing.

“No, no! It’s fine!” you assure him, collecting yourself, “no, I don’t. I casually dated a couple guys when I was in college, but nothing serious.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“Sure!”

“Are you a virgin?”

The butterflies in your stomach immediately start in, your face turning beet red as you attempt to compose yourself to answer his question, “y-yes… I am. I guess you could say I’m picky. I want my first time to be with someone special.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon smile at you before focusing his attention back on the kitchen cabinets, “there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart.”

Him calling you sweetheart was nothing new, you had gotten used to the nickname but this time, he said it with very clear intention and it shot straight into you, causing your clit to pulse in arousal. You try your best to ignore it.

“Can I safely assume you’re not a virgin?” you ask him, trying your best to just focus on painting the wall.

Leon chuckles, clearly amused by your question, “no, I’m definitely not. You could say I’m quite experienced in the matter.”

You weren’t surprised, especially considering Leon is 15 years older than you, a fact you often forgot because Leon was just so easy to talk to and get along with. Your mind begins to wander, imagining Leon being the one to take your virginity, how good he must be in bed with all the experience he has. You immediately shake the thought, ashamed you’re thinking such lewd thoughts when he’s right there. In an attempt to distract yourself, you look around the kitchen as you roll paint onto the wall, your eyes settling on a calendar Leon has hanging on one of the walls, which jogs your memory of a town event coming up.

“Has anyone told you about our annual Harvest Festival?” you ask, turning your attention back over to Leon.

“No they haven’t. What’s that?”

“It’s more like a carnival than anything, it’s an event we’ve had going in town since… 1947 I think… 40 years now, just celebrating the harvest and the coming of fall. There’s carnival rides, livestock and most importantly, food. You should check it out if you get a chance. It’s the last full week of October.”

“Maybe we can go together and you can show me all there is to see,” Leon replies as he hoists another cabinet onto the wall.

Your heart skips a beat at his response, “i-if you want to go together… we certainly can.”

“I’d love to go with you.”

“O-Ok…!”

Leon finishes getting the cabinet up, brushing his hands together before looking at his watch, then to you, “let’s stop for lunch, sweetheart.”

You finish painting the section of the wall you were working on before looking over at Leon, giving him a nod of acknowledgement as you set down the paint roller. You watch as Leon grabs stuff out of the fridge to make sandwiches: bread, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, onion and what had to be the rarest roast beef lunch meat you’d ever seen. Despite that, Leon made killer sandwiches, so you always look forward to having lunch with him.

Plus you were, you know, having lunch with Leon.

He sets the sandwich stuff down on a clean spot of the kitchen counter, turning to you, “go ahead and get comfortable in the dining room. I’ll bring the sandwiches in when they’re done.”

“Sounds good, I’m just going to hit the bathroom first, though,” you reply as you walk out of the kitchen.

You pass through the dining room, out into a hallway, you walk by what you assume is the basement door on your way to the bathroom. You do your business and come back out, noticing on your way out that the basement door is padlocked shut.

“That’s odd,” you say to yourself as you stop and look at the padlock.

You look around the door but you don’t see any sign of the key, not even on the small table that’s next to the door, which is even more odd. You then make your way back to the dining room, where Leon is already eating his sandwich, yours set in the other seat at the small dining table.

“Why’s the basement door padlocked?” you ask as you take a seat at the table.

Leon finishes chewing, nodding in acknowledgement of your question before he speaks, “there’s a lot of personal stuff down there, files and junk. Because I used to work for the government, there’s some classified files down there, too. I keep it locked just so that stuff stays safe.”

“Ah ok, that makes sense, sorry for prying. I just happened to notice it when I walked by, that’s all,” you reply before taking a bite of your sandwich.

“No need to apologize, it’s only natural for you to be curious.”

You take this quiet moment eating lunch together to really admire Leon, but discreetly. Today, he is wearing a tight fitting black t-shirt, which only accentuates his muscular body. Your favorite part of him, however, had to be those beautiful blue eyes. You constantly find yourself lost in them when you talk to him.

He suddenly makes eye contact with you, giving you a playful smirk when he notices you checking him out. You squirm in your seat, your heart racing as his ocean gaze seems to peer straight into your soul. There is no denying it now: you are hopelessly in love with Leon Kennedy.

“Mom, Dad! I’m home!” you call out as you walk into the house from the door that leads to the garage.

Your mother looks over at you from the kitchen sink as she does the dishes, “hey there, sweetie! How was your day?”

“It was good!” you reply as you hang up your purse and denim jacket in a small closet next to the garage door, “I painted some of the kitchen walls while Leon got the new cabinets up.”

“Hmph!” you hear your father from the living room where he’s sitting in his recliner, watching the news.

You watch your mother let out a heavy sigh as she shakes her head. Looking to you, she mouths ‘ignore him’ before focusing her attention back on doing the dishes.

“It smells amazing in here, what are you making for dinner, Mom?”

“Pork roast with potatoes, onions and carrots, sweetie. Figured that’d be a nice meal for a crisp day like today. Go ahead and relax, sweetie, I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready!”

About an hour and a half later, true to her word, your mother calls you down for dinner. At first, you all eat dinner in silence as your father reads the newspaper. An ad for the annual Harvest Festival catches your eye, reminding you of your conversation with Leon earlier that day.

“I was telling Leon about the Harvest Festival today,” you say, pointing out the ad in the newspaper.

“Oh, that’s right! Is he going to go, you think?” your mother asks.

“I think we’re actually going to go together,” you reply, your cheeks immediately start to turn pink as you shift in your seat.

“So, what? Are you seeing him now, is that what this is about?” your father growls, his eyes glaring at you.

“Wait-- what? No!”

“How old is he?” your father asks, his tone still angry.

“He’s… 36…” you reply, trying to avoid your father’s gaze.

“And you’re 21. Absolutely not, you’re not going with him and that’s final. In fact, you’re going to call him right now and tell him you quit--”

“Mick, you’re being ridiculous!” your mother cuts him off, slamming her fork down onto the table.

“I’m trying to protect our daughter! There’s a 15 year difference between them, that’s not acceptable!” your father argues back.

“Mick we’re 10 years apart, how’s that any different? She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions. How many times do I have to drill that into your thick skull, Mick?”

Your father grumbles, angrily stabbing his fork into the pork roast and taking a bite, aggressively chewing.

Your mom shakes her head, looking back over at you, “I’m sorry sweetheart. You absolutely can go to the festival with Leon,” your mother looks back over at your father, narrowing her eyes at him, “right, Mick?”

You watch your father roll his eyes before responding, “yes, dear…”

A couple days go by after you got into that argument with your father, but thankfully it’s business as usual. You wake up early as usual, getting yourself dressed and eating breakfast before you head out the door to go to Leon’s house. As you drive down Hemlock Drive, you notice the bursts of color on the trees changing into their autumn colors. It wasn’t quite peak foliage yet, you reckon about another week or so before that happens.

You park your car in its usual spot in front of Leon’s house, climbing out and approaching the front door. You simply open the front door and walk inside; Leon had told you that you were always welcome and didn’t need to knock. Upon walking in, you see Leon’s got his leather jacket on and that he’s packing a backpack.

“Whatcha doin’?” you ask, trying to look to see what Leon is up to.

“Good morning, sweetheart! Figured we’d do something different today; you deserve a break for working so hard,” he replies as he continues packing the backpack.

“Like… what?”

“I was thinking we could do the Basin trail today, especially since the fall colors are starting to pop up. I’ve heard people in town talk about it and wanted to see it for myself.”

You swallow hard, your anxiety immediately heightened, “you… do know there’s something in the mountains that’s been attacking hikers… right?”

Leon stops, turning to you, giving you a confident smirk before opening one side of his jacket to reveal a gun holster hanging from his torso with a 9mm handgun tucked inside.

“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

You give him a nervous nod, “i-if you say so…”

Leon gives you a reassuring smile before returning his attention back to finishing packing the backpack.

“There, bags are all packed and ready to go. I even made us sandwiches so we can have a little picnic in the mountains, doesn’t that sound nice?” Leon asks as he zips up the bag before handing it to you.

You grab the backpack, slinging it onto your back as you watch Leon grab the other backpack off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder as he gives you a wink, “ready to go, sweetheart?”

You follow him back outside, watching as he locks up.

“Are we taking your bike?” you ask as you look over to his motorcycle.

“No, we’ll be taking the Jeep,” he replies as he walks off the porch, turning to go to his Jeep parked on the side of the house; you follow close behind him.

He walks up to the passenger’s side door, opening it for you. You climb inside, slipping the backpack off your back and setting it onto the floor of the Jeep, as Leon climbs into the driver’s seat, putting on his seat belt. He turns the ignition and the Jeep comes alive with a low purr as you put on your own seat belt.

“I hope Metallica is ok,” Leon says to you, smirking at you as he shifts the Jeep into first gear and starts driving.

As if on queue, ‘Master of Puppets’ begins to play. Metal isn’t exactly your thing, but the tune is undeniably catchy. As Leon drives you down Hemlock, you watch, almost hypnotically, as he shifts the Jeep from one gear to the next. The first thing you notice is you feel every single bump in this road; you find yourself grabbing onto the Jeep’s roll bar above your head to steady yourself. You think you hear Leon chuckle under the loud purr of the Jeep.

Once on the main road, the ride was a little more steady, but not by much, you reckon that is just how Jeeps ride since this is your first time in one. Your gaze shifts from Leon’s hand on the stick shift, to out your window, watching the pops of color in the trees pass by, the sun finally cresting over the mountains. You suddenly feel Leon’s hand caress your thigh, causing you to jump a little as you look back over at him. He gives you a playful wink, his hand returning to the stick shift.

Before long, he pulls into the trailhead for the Basin trail. The Basin is a rock formation formed by thousands of years of water running through it, first formed during the ice age; the erosion from the water making a natural, crystal clear pool. Parking the Jeep, he climbs out, putting on his backpack as he walks over to the passenger’s side, opening your door and letting you out. Setting out onto the trail, the two of you walk side by side, taking in the scenery as the two of you make small talk about what’s the next agenda in Leon’s house, the weather and even the upcoming Harvest Festival. You do mention your argument with your father, causing Leon to shake his head.

It doesn’t take long to come upon the Basin itself, you hear Leon let out a soft ‘wow’ as he approaches the large fence blocking off public access to the pool of water. You stand next to him, leaning up against the fence to admire the Basin. You’d seen it before, but it had been years since the last time you saw it; it is still just as beautiful and mystifying as you remember.

“Cool, huh?” you ask.

“Very,” Leon replies, as he tries to nonchalantly reach over and snake his arm around your waist.

You feel yourself blush, but you let him, feeling him pull you closer to him as wraps his arm around your waist. For a few minutes, the two of you admire the Basin in silence, the sound of the water rushing in creating a sense of clarity. There is no doubt in your mind that you love Leon, and you’re starting to sense he feels the same way, or at the very least is attracted to you. From the corner of your eye you see Leon turn to you, a subtle smile forming on his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asks.

At first you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, it takes you a moment to process it but when you do, your heart immediately starts racing. Turning to him, your face undoubtedly beet red.

You swallow hard, working up the courage to answer him, “y-yes… you can.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, he shifts himself so that he has you pinned to the fence with his body, his hands gently cupping your face as he leans down, pressing his perfect lips against yours. It doesn’t take long for him to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping in to explore your mouth. You do the same, your tongues dancing around each other as Leon’s hands trail from your face, over your torso before finally resting on your waist. Meanwhile, your hands run through his blonde hair as you softly moan into the kiss.

The sound of a wolf’s whistle startles both of you. Leon stops, turning around to find two college aged boys, undoubtedly from Plymouth State University, staring at the two of you, snickering before they move on, walking in the direction that you two had come from. Leon lets out a frustrated sigh.

“We should get going, we can continue this later,” he purrs, looking back down at you and winking.

You nod as the two of you walk away from the Basin, Leon’s arm once again wrapping itself around your waist to keep you close. The two of you hike in silence, enjoying the sounds of nature. Unfortunately, the moment is soured when a powerful odor hits you like a ton of bricks, stopping you in your tracks.

“Do you smell that, Leon?”

“I do… I unfortunately know that smell anywhere. It’s the smell of death.”

You pace around, trying to ascertain which direction the smell is coming from, “you don’t think… it’s one of the hikers… do you?”

“Could be a large animal, but we better check it out, in case it is one of the missing hikers. I think it’s coming from this way,” he says, gesturing off the trail.

As you both start heading off the trail, into the woods with you taking the lead. The odor is becoming stronger and stronger as you go further away from the trail, a clear sign you were heading in the right direction. Coming up over a small incline, you see what you were hoping not to see at the bottom, a person. You immediately cover your mouth and nose with your shirt, the stench at this point overwhelming. As much as you don’t want to, you get closer, being careful not to slip and fall going down the incline. Leon catches up with you, still following behind you.

As you get closer, you can see the person is lying on their side, their skin an eerie white. From what you can see, the person has bite marks on their neck, much like what was described on the other hiker that was found. You look all around the person for anything that can identify them, your eyes finally settling on a ring that’s on their middle finger, your heart immediately sinking. You recognize the ring as your class ring, which can only mean one thing:

It’s Nate Dion.

His plan couldn’t have worked out any better. Not only did he successfully win over her affections, which he wasn’t concerned about, but stumbling upon the body in the woods was no accident. He led her to the body. He wanted her to see what he is capable of, how powerful he is, how he can provide for her. Obviously, she doesn’t know this, not yet anyway. Now is not the right time to show her, or to give her his gift.

Unsurprisingly, she threw herself at Leon upon the realization that it was the chief’s son. And, of course, he would hold her, smirking down at the body as she cried into his chest. Now, they were back in his Jeep, driving back into Oakvale to the police station. He looks over at her, seeing how she lays her head against the passenger’s side window, her arms wrapped around herself. His jacket is draped over her shoulders. Reaching over, he rubs his hand on her thigh to reassure her. She places her hand on top of his, squeezing it in acknowledgement.

“It’ll be ok, angel, we’re almost at the police station,” he says to her.

He turns his attention back onto the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice as he struggles to get his primal urges to breed under control. Finally he pulls up on the Oakvale police station, parking in one of the spots and killing the engine.

“I’ll go in and let them know what we found, angel--”

“I’m coming with you. Please don’t leave me alone, Leon…”

Looking over at her, he gives her a gentle smile, “of course, let’s head inside together, then.”

He gets out of the Jeep, walking around to let her out of the passenger’s side, immediately wrapping his arm around her in a protective gesture as they both walk inside the police station. Both of them walk up to the reception desk.

“We need to see Chief Dion,” Leon commands, resting his free arm on the counter as he glares down at the receptionist.

The receptionist pushes her glasses up off the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry, Chief Bob’s currently in a meeting--”

“Please! It’s urgent, we found Nate…” his angel suddenly blurts out, the panic clear in her voice.

“What!” the receptionist exclaims, looking over at her, “is he…?”

“Yes, he’s dead, just like the other hiker they found the other day,” Leon replies.

The receptionist immediately picks up the phone, dialing a number, “Chief, Leon Kennedy and Mick’s daughter are here, they’re saying they found Nate…”

The receptionist hangs up the phone, looking at his angel, then to Leon, before continuing, “he’s expecting you, please go through the door on the left over there. His office is the first one on the right.

“Thank you,” Leon replies before he walks over to the door in question, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

Upon walking through the door, Leon finds the Chief’s office, walking in with his angel in tow. As soon as they enter, his angel lifts her head to address the Chief.

“I’m sorry, Chief… he’s… he’s…” his angel begins, but then immediately breaks down sobbing.

Leon wraps both his arms around her, trying to comfort her, “he’s dead, Chief Dion.”

“God…” Chief Dion says, looking to the floor, his eyes darting back and forth in disbelief before looking back up at Leon, “if I pull out a map, can you point out where you found him?”

Before Leon can even answer, his angel replies, “I can Chief…”

“R-Right… I’ll be right back then.”

Leon watches as Chief Dion leaves the office. He coaxes his angel over to a bench on the opposite side of his desk, sitting himself and her down as he holds her close, running his hand through her hair to love on her; to entangle her into his web even more. Leon buries his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deep before placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Before long, Chief Dion comes back out with a map of the trails in Franconia Notch, rolling it open to show his angel, “sweetheart, can you point on the map where you found Nate.”

Leon watches her turn her attention to the map; she ponders for a moment before pointing to a spot just off the Basin trail heading West, “right about here…”

“Off the Basin trail?” Chief Dion says, perplexed as he takes the map, looking at it with an eyebrow raised, “how on Earth did he end up over there?”

Shit Leon cursed mentally, he hadn’t thought about where he had originally grabbed him from, no matter, it’ll be fine.

Leon watches Chief Dion grab his transmitter, pushing the button to speak into it.

“Attention all units, I need Police, Fish and Game and EMT at the Basin trailhead immediately. Nate has been located. He’s… he’s dead…”

Chief Dion turns his attention back to Leon, “would both of you be able to stay here until I get back so we can collect a statement?”

“Of course, Chief, not a problem at all,” Leon replies, giving the Chief his best, kind smile.

“Thank you, I won’t be too long. Hang tight,” Chief Dion replies as he leaves the office, heading out the door to the receptionist area.

Leon wraps his arms around his angel even tighter, adjusting himself so that she could relax in his embrace. He watches her intently as her breasts rise and fall with each breath she takes. He can’t help but smile down at her.

Once we’re done here, I’ll bring her back home, and make her a nice dinner. Then I’ll continue where I left off earlier. It shouldn’t be very difficult to get her into my bedroom and--

“WHERE IS HE?!” a male voice shouts from the receptionist area, breaking Leon’s thoughts.

“Mick, you can’t go back there! Get back--!”

The door suddenly bursts open, an irate man charging through and coming into Chief Dion’s office.

“You…” the man practically growls as he looks down at Leon, “you son of a bitch!”

“Dad, what are you--”

“What were you planning on doing to my daughter?! Lure into the woods so you can have your way with her and then ditch her somewhere?!”

Leon rolls his eyes as he stands up, coming face to face with his angel’s father, Mick, noting how his face is red in rage, “what are you talking about?”

“Working on the house my ass! What the fuck are you doing dragging my daughter out into the woods alone with you?!” Mick continues, “I knew something wasn’t right about you!”

“Dad come on, please stop!”

“No! I am doing what’s best for you, this guy needs to fucking go!”

Mick suddenly comes at Leon swinging, landing a couple punches into Leon’s stomach before Leon is able to dodge them. Leon is unphased by the punches Mick did manage to land. Mick continues his assault, one punch missing and going straight through the sheet rock in Chief Dion’s office. Mick takes a second to shake his hand off before he continues to launch punches at Leon. It is taking everything in Leon not to snap and attack Mick with the full force of his abilities.

Leon, finally having enough of Mick’s mindless flailing of his arms, curls up his fist and punches him directly in the center of his face, breaking Mick’s nose instantly. Leon watches as blood runs out from his nostrils, his pupils dilating as the smell of blood goes straight to his head. He can feel his fangs descend and he fights off the urge to feed as Mick tries to get his hands around Leon’s neck. Leon reaches up, trying to grasp Mick’s hands to pry them off, however he’s too inebriated by the sight and smell of blood to be able to pry him off.

Chief Dion and several officers come through the door, the officers grabbing Mick from behind and managing to get his hands behind his back to handcuff him. Leon rubs his neck with one of his hands, looking down at his other hand, seeing faint signs of his black veins. He’s able to finally get himself under control, the black veins disappearing without a trace and feeling his fangs retract.

“What the hell is your problem, Mick?!” Chief Dion exclaims, his voice filled with disappointment.

“I am just protecting my daughter,” Mick replies, his angry gaze focused on Leon.

In that moment, Leon knows one thing for certain:

The father needs to go.

Part 4

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