#and he could drink and get high without being addicted

[luveline]

Missing my zombie!steve husband 🫶🏻

quiet day at the camp… hope something bad isn’t brewing… zombie apocalypse au <3 fem, 2k

Steve loves the sound of the river, but he only allows himself a moment to lay down on the riverbank during laundry hours. 

You stand knee deep in the water with your pants and sleeves rolled up, the corrugated metal of an old shed roof that’s been repurposed into a washing board held to your chest. It was pointless to roll your sleeves up, you’re soaked to the bone, even your hair, but the summer sun keeps you warm. 

“Don’t get too hot!” you call. 

“I’m fine,” he says, unwilling to shout. 

“He’s fine!” Robin shouts from beside him. “Numbskull.” 

Steve stares at you, locking you in, so to speak, the nice shape of your hip and stomach, the mess of your wet hair. Tonight, he’ll help you fix it, but there’s no rush and no hurry to dry off while the sun is out, and the fences are up. He turns onto his stomach. Grass tickles his cheeks. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks quietly. 

“Fine. Can you tell me if she needs help?” 

“Sure.” He listens to the sounds of her moving, likely pulling the slim lengths of her legs against her chest to hug herself, the tan leaves of a book spread out just in front of her. 

Steve could really go for a cigarette. You swapped the last box you found for toothpaste, isn’t that how it always goes? You and Robin found a cheat code in the apocalypse, nicotine with a capital ‘N’. You swap Arctic chewable for socks without holes and boxes of Marlboro’s for the bathroom essentials. Everybody wants them, and you’re great at finding them. Steve never thought he’d crave a cigarette again considering he wasn’t addicted, having smoked for a couple of months in high school to feel cool with his friends, stopping when his mom asked him to. He doesn’t remember why. She’d asked, and he’d listened, as he used to do. Swim team, cross country, basketball, lifeguard training, mowing the lawn, not upsetting his father, taking out the trash, vacuuming, no drinking and driving; task after task after task. Some of it was easy. He liked doing the dishes, and he loved taking care of his mom even if she didn’t feel the same. 

Not that it matters now. Does it matter now? He’s never gonna see her again. She’s a memory. She’s a bad memory, most of the time. 

The more he reflects on it, he decides. She was a bit shitty, but she’s his mom, and she’s likely gone, so he’ll try to remember the cookies they made together and the way she’d smile at him after she tied his shoelaces before school. And also the mean fucking bitch she’d turn into when she drank two glasses of wine. 

“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks.

“That’s the wrong soap,” you say from the river. Your voice floats over the breeze. 

“Fuck off, soap is soap,” Eddie says, your not-so-new friend, Steve’s sworn enemy. 

“I’m just saying,” you laugh. “Look, I’ll wash, you rinse.” 

“I’m thinking about that time,” Steve begins, holding his hand out toward her, open but not expectant, “when my mom and dad came home early from his business trip in Missouri and found us sleeping together.” 

“I’d never heard your dad laugh before,” Robin says. 

“My mom really didn’t like you after that.” He smiles as she takes his hand. They were a lot more touchy, pre-apocalypse. He misses that sometimes. 

“I don’t even think she thought we were dating.” 

“She was disgusted.” 

“She said we were being weird teenagers.”

“I guess we were. I never had a friend like you before so maybe I can’t blame her,” he says. He has something special with you, you’re a best friend because you’re half of his heart, but Robin was his first proper best friend, and remains it. “I missed you a lot when we were stuck in Indiana. There were a ton of times where shit would go wrong and I would get mad at you because I knew you’d know how to fix it, but you weren’t there.” 

“You’d get mad at me?” Robin asks, squeezing his hand. “You jerk. Be mad at yourself.” 

“Can you wait for me next time?” he asks.

Robin’s quiet, then she laughs, “I’m nodding but you can’t see.” 

He wonders how she’s feeling. He admits to not doing that much in the past. Not that he didn’t think about how he made others feel, he was always worrying about that after Nancy, but he can’t say he thought of it in the moment. Steve forces himself to sit up and offer his arms for a hug, which Robin gladly accepts, her frazzled laugh on his neck as he pats her back. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“You know Y/N says I’m possessive?” 

Robin leans away, fingers curled around his elbow. “You’re fighting?” 

“No, just. She says I’m possessive, that I get mad about, you know, my people.” 

“Right. Isn’t everybody?” 

“I never thought I did. I’m not, like, too proud most of the time.” 

“Steve, this is super introspective,” she says, frowning, smiling, a weird expression somewhere melding in the middle of happy and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you’re not.” She laughs shrilly. “I woke up the other day and cried and then ten minutes later I felt fine. I’m far from okay.” 

Steve glances past Robin’s head to watch you in the river. You’re sitting down amongst the stones. It really isn’t too deep, water to your ribcage washing suds down to Munson, who’s smiling at you kindly, not smarmy or flirting, just smiling. 

“Why did you cry?” he asks quietly. 

“I missed my cousin, I think.” 

Steve curls his arm behind her head and encourages her in for a fiercer hug. 

“Think we should probably go help them,” she mumbles. 

He takes it for the brush off that it is; sincerity is too much to take, sometimes. If she wants to be evasive about it that’s okay, she already took the leap and admitted to getting upset. 

“I cried thinking about Y/N’s hands the other day,” he says. 

“Steve.” Robin rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. “I don’t even know what to tell you.” 

“What? I’m trying to show you I’m pathetic so you don’t feel bad.” 

“I know you’re pathetic, and I don’t feel bad.” She climbs off of the ground and brushes broken grass off of her legs. Steve climbs up next to her, nudging her with his elbow. “You’re mucho pathetic. It’s kind of crazy.” 

“I think I might try and drown him,” he says conversationally. 

“Why now?” 

“Why do you think?” Steve asks, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, nearly pitching forward on the wet bank closer to the river.

You and Eddie look up as they approach from different spots of the water. Your smile at seeing him winds him for the thousandth time, just so happy to see him, so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do for a few seconds. “Hey, honey,” he says, “can I help?” 

“Now you wanna help?” you ask, gesturing to your soaked front. 

You’re messing with him, and he doesn’t care anyways, you can talk to him like crap if you want to. He shuffles down from the mud of the riverbank and into the water, cold and wet like a shock against his ankles, softer as it climbs to his knees. You’re sitting where it’s more shallow, opposed to Eddie on his knees and almost drowning further down. He puts his hand on your wet shoulder and kneels down in the water beside you. “Wanna hug?” you tease. 

Steve hugs you. Doesn’t care that you’re soaking or that the water is freezing against his crown jewels, though he shivers by your ear, prompting your laugh like bubbles in his own. “It’s cold,” he says. 

“Freezing!” 

Not to be a freak, but he can feel your chest pressed to him, and he knows you get achy in the cold. He wraps his arms doubly behind your back and rubs at your sides. “How much laundry’s left?” he asks. “We’re gonna get hypothermia. Again.” 

“You didn’t get hypothermia,” you remind him, folding into his space. “Steve… is everything okay?” 

“Do I look mopey today? Robin just asked me the same thing.” 

“You don’t look mopey, but you’re being touchy. You’re cuddling.” 

“How am I not supposed to cuddle you, dummy? I’m keeping you warm enough to function right now. Without me you’d be an ice cube floating down the river.” He leans back to hold your face in one hand, your cheek under his thumb, water racing down his wrists and your neck. 

You push against his hand gently with your cheek. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

For lots of things. “I didn’t realise how cold the water was. I would’ve come to help you.” 

“It’s fine. I scrub everything and then Eddie catches it. We’ve only lost one pair of underwear,” you say. “The river’s like a long washing machine.” 

“How much do you have left?” he asks. 

“Nothing. I was just about to get out.” 

“Couldn’t have told me that before I came to get you?” 

“No,” you say, lifting your chin. Not challenging, but close. It’s an offer, Steve decides, kiss me or don’t kiss me. You don’t seem to realise he doesn’t decide, he needs you. If you always wanted to kiss him, you’d always be kissing, all the time, everywhere. 

Steve gives you a quick peck. “Come on, let’s go set up the line.” 

You somehow, together, make your way back to the tents without freezing to death after throwing your clothes on a drying line between trees. It’s warm enough that stripping down to your skivvies is mildly pleasant (away from the eyes of the other campers). You get dressed in the softest clothes you own upon Steve’s insistence, sweatpants and a dark hoodie, three pairs of socks and the tent door left open, before he lays you down on the sleeping bag, and settles between your legs, his full weight bearing down on you, his face nestled in the damp crook of your neck. 

“I couldn’t kiss you the right way,” he confesses. 

“Why?” You pull mildly at the ends of his hair. 

“‘Cos I always want more than one kiss.” 

“That’s a strangely romantic way to say you wanted to make out with me,” you whisper. 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, even though he does want to, and he did in the river, and he does all the time.

“You’re getting kinda heavy, Steve,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“It’s a good thing.” 

“How dare you.” 

“We got sorta frail for a bit.” You wrap an arm around his head, tip of your nose to his forehead. 

“Yeah. Lucky we’re in camp Eddie now,” Steve says. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” you murmur, so close to sleeping Steve can tell. You just need a feeling of security to nudge you over the edge. 

“Lucky we’re together.” He climbs off of you slowly so as not to rouse you too much, kissing your slack cheek as he settles on your shoulder. “You and me. I don’t care where we are.”

He ends up falling asleep not long after you, lulled by the rhythm of your light snore. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[neopuppy]

Gooner (M)

pairing. Jisung x female reader ft Jeno

genre. fubu AU(alternatively ‘I was half a virgin when I met you!’ AU), Jisung as Jeno’s younger brother/Jeno’s not the best sibling, M/F, filth.. yay👹

warnings. profanity, eavesdropping, incel vibes, y/n’s a bit mean, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 6.5k+

now playing. treat me like a slut//Kim Petras

smut warnings. masturbation, Jisung’s addicted to porn, switching, oral, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, rough sex, unprotected sex

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Sweet high-pitched moans resonate through the walls, loud enough to cancel out the ones emitting from overpriced computer speakers.

So loud. So God damn loud.

Jisung sighs, he’d heard your flirty giggles about an hour ago before his brother dragged you through the hallway and into his bedroom across from his. You’ve been here 3? 4 times? This week alone already. He tries to tune out the cracked whine in your tone, raise the volume on the video he’s been watching for five minutes, not really paying attention to what’s happening. How can he when you scream like your lifes being ripped from your body, crying out louder than a woman being chased to her death. 

He blinks to focus his gaze on the computer screen, reaching for the energy drink sat on his desk to sip at. This used to be more enjoyable, time to relax and unwind after school or work. That was before Jeno started hooking up with you. You’re just around all the damn time, always sprawled out on the couch, coming out of their shared bathroom with wet hair and one of his brothers oversized t-shirts. He doesn’t make an effort to talk to you at all, never has tried to get to know any of the random girls that come in and out of his brother's revolving bedroom door. 

Not that you make that easy, always greeting him when you run into each other, smiling and waving, even pinching his cheek when you stumbled out of his brother's room inebriated. You called him cute, a baby, a cute giant baby. It makes his skin crawl to think about it, softly petting his cheek with the back of his hand where you had tugged on his cheek roughly. He spent the rest of the day locked up in his room scouring the internet for videos showcasing girls that looked somewhat like you, your hair or lips, any minuscule feature close enough to yours to stroke himself to.

‘Look at you Sungie, you’re growing up right before my eyes.’ You said drunkenly, staggering back and forth on your feet as you trapped him in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to do or say, flinching away from your touch too slowly, he had to stand there gulping thick wads of saliva while you tugged on his cheek and reached up to smack the other side of his face. ‘What a cute giant baby.’

The fantasies brewing in his mind for the last few weeks spilled over as you tiptoed closer and blinked up at him blearily, a flirty smile pulling at your lips. 

He wanted to grip your wrists until they hurt, leave his fingerprints permanently etched on your daint limbs. One of his favorite videos came to mind, wishing to throw you down on all fours and shove the oversized band shirt up to unveil your bare ass, knowing damn well you walk around without bothering to cover yourself up after Jeno fucks your brain dry. He’s so lucky, always manages to pull girls like you, shameless easy sluts desperate to cry on his cock. 

That could be him if he had the balls to even look you in the eye and act out the various ways he imagines plowing through you. He was ready to say something, barely parting his lips open until Jeno blew his chances and dragged you back to his bedroom.

‘Your little brother’s so cute.’ You teased, poking at the olders chest. He scoffed and glared at you, slowly dragging his gaze over to Jisung standing frozen in the hallway before slamming his door shut.

‘Probably made his week talking to you, loser never leaves his room.’ 

Jeno’s such an asshole. He’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to tell you shit about his younger brother’s life. He does leave his room, he has to eat, meet up with his friends every once in a while.

That’s not the worst part, the worst part is that you seem curious about him. Always subtly mentioning him when he’s in the living room or kitchen. His brother scoffs and mutters under his breath usually, snapping at you to quit asking about that virgin.

He’s not a fucking virgin.. technically. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, you’d probably never give him a chance. Not that he wants a chance, he’s just horny, just needs to actually leave his room and interact with real women like Jeno always says. 

But why would he do that when a few clicks can numb his brain without any hassle, without any effort or convincing. Why would he do that when he can mute the video, get up to press his ear against the door and watch a point of view shot of some whore getting her back blown out while listening to you beg for more.

Harder. Faster. More more more. 

You sound like such a slut, such a cock hungry eager slut. It’s easy to picture your face getting wrecked, he knows how rough Jeno can get after years of listening to the squeals and cries coming out of his room. Girls limping their way out with shame written across their face, they never lasted long, got their fill and moved on to the next. You stuck around, further cementing what a whore you must really be..

Jisung sighs, head dropping back against his door, sliding down to his knees to shove his hand past the waistband of his shorts. He hasn’t left his room today, only once to act like he needed to use the bathroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to catch a glimpse of your outfit and makeup before Jeno ruined everything. The amount of shirts and sweaters you’ve probably stolen by now must be taking up space in your closet. 

You’d look good in some of his clothes too, better than you look in his brothers. You’d look better naked though, laid out on his bed with your legs spread open. He’s been hard from the moment he caught a hint of your signature perfume in the air on his way to the bathroom, it’s enough to make his dick twitch. Enough to lick at his lips and imagine what your skin must taste like. He hates perfume, but you always smell so clean, so feminine and fresh..

“Fuck.” Lotion, he needs lotion. His palm feels extra rough today, calloused up from beating his meat relentlessly over the last few weeks. He can’t keep track anymore, losing count of how many times he’s tugged on his cock everyday, drowning out any hint of guilt that tells him that this is wrong. Besides, how wrong can it be when he cums within minutes picturing your face turning to look back at him as he pulls out to make a mess all over your ass.

“Hey, dipshit!” A loud bang against his door has him choking on his spit, coughing and yanking his hand out of his pants as if he’s been burnt. “Mom called, said to buy dinner.”

Jeno knocks again, throwing out another rude name until he gets up and races to turn off his computer, flustered as he wipes his sweaty palms on his shirt and opens the door. 

You’re standing behind him of course, slouching on his brother's back, peering over his bicep when the door opens. “What'dya want?”

His brother always looks annoyed, he can’t understand why, they’re not that different. 

“Pizza.” You whisper, dragging out your request cutely, fingernails running up and down Jeno’s sides. “Pizzzzzzzzzza.”

He chuckles, grabbing your hands to loop your fingers together and tighten your hold around him. “I could go for some pizza.”

Jisung nods, ducking his head to avoid the way you bat your eyes at him behind Jeno’s back. It’s probably all in his head anyway, the small things you do when his brother can’t see you..

“Alright, I have a package coming in soon. Make yourself useful and bring it in for me before someone snatches it, will you?” Jeno says, shoving at his shoulder before turning away with you still attached to his back. “Told you he was probably jerking off.”

The way you laugh at that comment makes his chest tingle, lifting his gaze to steal one more look at you before shutting his door. To his surprise, you’re already looking back, the corners of your mouth lifting up slightly before you step out of view and the front door shuts.

Whatever. He really isn’t hungry, not for food anyway, not when he can still pick up the lingering scent of your body wash permeating off your warm damp skin. He shoves that thought aside before pulling on some sweats, gingerly placing his length between the elastic waistband and his stomach. 

The door rings not even 5 minutes after the two of you have left, groaning as he opens it and finds a large box that looks too heavy to carry to Jeno’s bedroom. “Asshole.” He knew damn well Jisung wouldn’t want to lift this shit, and he told him to anyway. Fuming for a minute, he rolls his eyes and squats to hoist the package up against one of his thighs, grunting as he kicks the door shut and drops it haphazardly to kick down the hall. That’s what Jeno would do with his deliveries, he’s sure.

He contemplates for a moment on whether or not to leave the box outside of his brother's door, shifting back and noticing he didn’t close it all the way. Probably wants him to leave it inside of his room like some lacky, better he assumes that and does it to avoid hearing shit later. Pointing his toes, he nudges the door open lightly, kicking the box inside only to pause when the warm air touches his face. It still reeks of sex inside of here, it still reeks of you. It’s strong, hot, thick on his tongue. 

Jeno’s room faces the street, catching most of the sunlights heat while Jisung’s window has towering trees to keep that out. He glances to his brother’s bed, it’s still messy, the top blanket wrinkled in places you must have been fisting, damp streaks where your lower half must have been resting. 

He shouldn’t itch to touch, to get a closer look, to lower his face and drag his tongue across the wet patch, but he has to. This—this is what he’s been missing out on, this is what his videos can’t replicate. The smell of your arousal, the warmth rolling off your feverish flesh, the taste of your cunt pouring down his lips. 

Jeno would fucking kill him if he found out about this, he thinks, grazing the tips of his fingers over the bundled up chunks of fabric, dragging over a damp spot between. He probably had you on all fours, face down ass up. Jisung salivates picturing it, the exact way he always imagines you looking back at him over your shoulder as he mercilessly slams inside of you. The blanket pinched between your teeth, cunt dripping out past his plummeting length making a sloppy mess all over his bed. 

This is why you sound so muffled sometimes, making his ears strain to hear all of your sweet begging. He bets you look unreal in this light, always imagining you illuminated under the low blue and purple lights in his room, hair tousled on his black sheets. 

He has to drag his nose against the topper, has to clench it between his fist as he lowers to the spot that undoubtedly rivered down from between your thighs. It’s so raw, so real, instantly bolting electric nerves through his length as his lips lightly meet the half-dried area. There’s still too many hints of Jeno’s deeper musk entwined in the other areas, but this is all you. This is all your fucked open pussy, jerking his hips against the edge of his brother’s bed the more he wraps his lips around the material. Fuck, what he’d give to sit between your thighs for a day like a pathetic dog with his mouth hung open pleading for a taste.

He should stop, get out of here before he gets too worked up, circling his hips faster as his chest tightens and his breath comes out faster. He ruts harder, pulling at the blanket and burying his face in deeper. How wet must you get to leave a mess like this behind? Can you squirt? Do your legs shake when you cum? Each drag of his tongue opens up a new possibility, reinventing the ways he’s dreamt of fucking you. He really shouldn’t have done this, now he’ll never be able to stop his mind from running wild.

“Fuck, does that feel good? Pussy so damn tight for me.” He repeats the same shit he hears Jeno spewing while fucking you. The envy he feels nearly outweighs how pathetic he feels. It’d be harder to swallow if he wasn’t so God damn bricked up at the mere thought of you.

“All that bullshit about men being the worst—“ Jeno’s voice echoes down the hall, the front door slamming shut. “When you’re worse than me.”

Giggles play out loud, only halted by lips smacking together. Jisung sits up in a panic, pushing the blanket back to cover most of the mattress. Cursing under his breath he peers around fast, losing his balance as steps ascend down the hall heading his direction.

Shitshitshit, what the fuck! He can’t move fast enough, stumbling to the floor with his painfully erect cock aching as he drags across. 

“It’s your fault, can’t keep your hands to yourself for a minute!” You squeal, thumping against the bedroom door setting him off in a scurry toward the closet. Jeno will chew his head off if he finds him in here, he doesn’t even want to think about it. Why the fuck would the two of you come back in here so soon?! What about the food?!

“You like it.” Jeno murmurs, pushing open the door to his bedroom right as Jisung manages to shut the closet door as quietly as possible. It’s a mess in here, clothes thrown around everywhere. He has to crawl back on his knees slowly to make sure he doesn’t make a sound, taking long quiet breaths to not be heard.

There’s no way he’ll get caught in here, you’ll have to leave eventually, right? The shutter door does nothing to help his confidence, scooting back into what he hopes is too dark to be visible from the other side if either of you were to look over for some reason(like him breathing too loud). Of course you fall to your knees in front of the closet, his brother’s hand shoving you down by your shoulder as his other works to unbutton his jeans. 

“You look best on your knees.” He says, probably smirking judging off the way you smile up at him and reach for the tops of his thighs. “Let’s make this quick though, don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Pftt, I don’t have to suck your dick.” You bite back, digging your fingers into his jeans. “I’m sure your little brother wouldn’t give a fuck about eating if he had me like this.”

Jisung gulps, willing himself to look away when you reach inside of Jeno’s pants to draw his length free. He doesn’t want to see that, well, he does want to. He doesn’t want to watch you touch his brother though. Doesn’t want to ruin the fantasy world he’s built in his head with the harsh reality.

“You seriously wanna fuck him, don’t you?” Jeno sneers, fisting your hair as you begin to glide the tip of his length across your lips. “You never shut up about him, he wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

Jisung wishes he could tell him off, glaring between the shutters at him. His lips twitch annoyed, fisting at the dirty pile of clothes under his ass. He’d know what to do with you, all he does is think about it, if only you’d let him practice..

“It’s cute, he always looks away when I catch him staring.” You tease, flicking your tongue out. “Never fucked brother’s before, bet it’d be fun.”

A gasp nearly gets sucked out of his throat, tightening his fist around the piles as a tremor runs up his spine. There’s no way you’re serious, right? Probably just messing with Jeno to piss him off. It works too, because he’s telling you to ‘shut the fuck up’ within the next second, probbing his dick past your lips until you’re forced to take it. 

You hardly even gag, making a quiet little sound as his cock disappears. Jisung can feel his thighs shaking before he realizes his hands are too, his bottom lip quivering. The way your lips stretch, the eye contact you manage to maintain despite his brother’s huge thick size struggling to fill your throat. It’s better than watching porn, you are better than watching porn. You’re the nasty perverse wet dream that’s made him wake up with sticky cum coated boxers come to life. 

He knows this is despicable, down right humiliating to watch you blow his older brother off and enjoy it, but between the cuts of vision he can pretend Jeno’s not there. Your lips are pulled back on his size, only he’d cup the back of your head and make you really gag, make your eyes well up with tears. He’d make sure to ruin your throat, have you raspy for days, making excuses for your scratchy voice. Nothing would please him more than knowing his cock punching your tonsils repeatedly had you sounding sick, clearing your throat and coughing. 

Instinctively his hand reaches for the prominent bulge tenting out from his groin. The tip of his cock wet enough to leak through his boxers making him grateful that he threw on sweats before leaving his room. Watching is one thing, but rubbing his cock to this would be too much, wouldn’t it? Does he even care at this point? 

The groans Jeno’s letting out are loud and throaty as usual, thick cock muffling your wet moans vibrating around his length. Jisung reaches inside of his underwear to stroke the precum pouring from his slit up and down his shaft. He curses under his breath, gripping the base tight as a moan rises up his chest.

With a wet pop you pull off, lips plump and debauched already, turning your gaze up as you take a firm hold on his length and expertly fist him. Jisung bites down on his tongue, pulling the small fabric tangled in his fingers up with his mouth to bite down on. A choked gasp breaks when he sees it, lacey red panties still stained along the seat with a creamy white film.

Fuck, these have to be yours. You’re the only girl that’s been around lately. They have to be the ones you had on today too. 

This couldn’t possibly get any nastier, not the typical scenario he imagines. Jeno’s never involved in those, it usually started in the hallway after you’ve showered. Dropping your towel with a sultry gaze locked on him, that’s how he knows this has to be real. You’re still dressed in one of his brother's shirts, and the panties he immediately shoves to his nose still smell ripe. Couldn’t have been stripped off your body longer than two hours ago. Between the wet sloppy sounds emitting from your throat and his hand stroking faster to match the pace, he takes deeper inhales. It’s stupid, envisioning a field covered in your used dirty underwear, falling from the sky even. 

“That’s it, get my balls too.” Jeno grunts, finally grabbing onto your head the way he would. He holds you in place and fucks against your pretty face, bursting tears out of your eyes that are working overtime to stay open. He’s full on fucking your face now, making Jisung’s hand sting from the burn of his slimey palm dragging against his throbbing cock again. He can’t cum like this, that would be mortifying. Especially because he never wants to forget this.

“Fuck, ah shit, swallow it.” Jeno demands, spilling down your throat and reaching down to pinch your nose. Make you choke and gag like a pro. He won’t cum from this, he’s seen this happen so many times, beat his cock to compilations, but it’s the lewd gargled moan you let out. It’s the way his brother rips his cock free from your lips and wads of spit soar out, painting your chin with the most disgusting vile mixture of thick nut and drool.

“Fuck!” Jisung shouts, wrapping your panties around his length as he tugs himself to completion.

“What the fuck?!” The closet doors flying open before he can even finish climaxing, furrowing his eyebrows and grabbing at another piece of clothing to cover his groin. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

“Oh my God!” You squeak, scurrying to stand up and clean off your face. “You were in there the whole time!”

“Were you seriously fucking jerking off?!” Jeno shrieks, grabbing the younger by his arm to drag him out of the closet. “The hell is your problem pervert?!”

“N-no! I wasn’t!” Jisung panics, lifting his hands to defend himself.

“My panties!” You screech, bending over to snatch them away from his crotch, accidentally brushing his still sensitive twitching length.

“Ahh!” His hips chase your fleeting touch, face burning up as you scream again and drop your freshly soiled underwear.

“Oh my God, he came in them!”

“Ugh, told you he’s a fucking virgin that wouldn’t know what to do with you.” Jeno sneers annoyed, motioning at the younger. “Stand up man! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m not a virgin!” Jisung snaps, face on fire the longer he stays on his knees listening to this with two sets of judging eyes on him. 

“You came after only putting in the tip dude! That doesn’t count!” Jeno shouts, groaning and grabbing him to get up. “Why can’t you be normal!”

“You’re a virgin?” You interrupt, seeming intrigued, shyly lifting your thumb to your mouth to bite on.

“No!” He corrects, shoving at the older. 

“Don’t lie.” Jeno shoves him back. They go back and forth for a minute, Jisung frustratedly balling up his fists and standing straight.

“Fine! I’m like—half a virgin.” He says regretfully, lowering his gaze.

“He jerks off too much that’s why.” Jeno announces, spilling all his business. “Can’t hold his shit inside a real pussy, horny bastard.”

“Dude!”

“I’ve never been with a virgin.” You add, bouncing on your tiptoes. 

“He couldn’t handle you, I’ve already told you.” Jeno repeats, flicking your chin. “He doesn’t deserve a pity fuck from you anyway.”

Jisung wants to disagree, ready to grovel for a pity fuck if you’re really down for that. Keeping his gaze lowered, he tries to ignore the way his dick still reacts to the idea. He’d perform magic to erase that almost first time from his memory if it meant he’d have an actual chance to be inside of you.

“Wouldn’t be a pity fuck.” You mumble demurely, tucking your chin to your chest. “He’s cute.”

Jeno throws his hands up, breaking into a laugh. “He won’t last more than 3 minutes inside of you, you’re still tight even after I fuck you.”

Jisung swallows hard, gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. “Bet I could..”

“Yeah!” You agree, smacking Jeno’s chest. “How much do you want to bet?”

Jeno laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Just say you wanna fuck him, we don’t need to bet shit.”

“Fine.” You respond, shrugging, trailing your gaze from Jeno to Jisung. He stares back wide-eyed in disbelief.. now this has to be a dream.

“Pittttttttty fuck.” Jeno sings, slapping your ass as he passes you on the way out. “Don’t forget who fucks you right just because you’re into this helpless loser shit my brother has going on.”

He shouts something about eating all of the pizza if the two of you take too long, leaving you to stand awkwardly shuffling across from Jisung. Clearing his throat, he nods and motions for you to exit the room. “Are you sure about this?”

“Are you not? I mean, you ruined my panties, I think you owe me one..” you say coyly, bumping into his side making red hues rise up the back of his neck. Jisung nods much too fast, leading you to his bedroom which is much different from Jeno’s. A lot more cluttered, dark, less of an inviting scent.

He scrambles to light a candle, spraying a bit of cologne when you step in and suck a long breath in through your nose. “Smells like..”

You trail off, dragging your fingers down his computer desk and eyeing the small trash can full of tissues underneath. “Fresh cum.”

Jisung pretends to laugh, shaking his head and waving his hands ‘no’, adding a few more sprays. “I guess it’s true, I mean you are always alone whenever I come over..”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you sit down on his bed, adjusting the shirt you borrowed from Jeno to cover your upper thighs. “But you like me, right?”

He wants to fall to his knees, grovel and perch his chin on your knee and beg you to stop making this even more humiliating for him. “Y-yes..”

“I know Sungie, you’re not good at hiding it..” you grin, leaning back and patting the space beside you. “Come here.”

Jisung listens, sitting down stiffly next to you. His nerves feel insane, burning through his veins, face on fire. He can’t even look at you, can’t even think about having to touch you.

“Look at me.”

You say that like it’s so easy, as if it’s simple enough to turn his face a centimeter to face you. He gulps, scratching at the cotton material stretched over his thighs, mentally pepping himself up to turn. “Ji, I said look at me.” 

And he has to now, with your fingers pinching his chin, sitting closer to him until your lips are only a breath away from his. The same mouth he just watched suck cock like a professional whore, lips still swollen from taking Jeno’s monstrous size. “You seem nervous.”

Shaking his head, he reaches for your throat, that’s usually how it goes in porn. Those girls always liked to be choked, get manhandled and fucked into the floor. Judging by the way you let Jeno treat you, he doubts you’re any different. His hand can practically wrap around your neck, surging a rush a thrill through his gut as he pushes you down on his bed and traps you with his fingers stretched around choking you. “Not nervous.” He grits, kicking your thighs open with his knees to mount you. 

“Are y-you sure—“ you struggle to ask, tugging on his wrist. 

“Shut the fuck up.” His brother had been stern with you before, you seemed to like it. Even now with wide surprised eyes he leans in and nips at your upper lip, hands beginning to tremble. “I should use a condom with an easy slut like you..” he whispers, pouty pink lips dragging against yours. “You let anyone fuck you.”

Confidence, he has to stay confident. Has to steer the control his way, make sure you know that he’s the one in charge here. His cocks thrumming incessantly, screaming to be set free, begging him to finally fuck something other than his poor useless hand. 

Gripping onto your jaw, he licks across your lips, digging his knee higher to prod your bare middle. Fuck, you’re soaking through the cotton material of his sweats. He knew it, you really are the most erotic dream, ripped straight from the most lust crazed filled thoughts. “You need to beg.”

His knee rubs against your core to emphasize his request, cupping your jaw and chin firmly to assault your mouth further. It’s all too good, stirring his aroused heat into a rapid inescapable fire. Every inch of his skin burns, desperate to remove his clothes and draw you into the depths of hell with him. He can’t stop licking between your lips, can’t stop nibbling on your juicy pout long enough to take anything off.

“Ji—s-slow down,” you whine, gripping his narrow hips to drag your cunt up his thigh. “You’re g-getting too worked u-up.”

He should listen, this is exactly what happened last time. Kissing felt too good to stop, dragging his free hand over your perky breasts shot off too many sparks of electricity throughout his system to slow down. The warmth spreading over his thigh just too damn good to do anything other than pull his length out quickly.

“C-can’t.” He mumbles breathily, wrapping around your neck again for leverage. Pushing your thigh open to direct the tip of his aching cock inside of you. He looks devastated, anguished by the pain visibly throbbing his size. He’s so hard, the tip of his length so red and ready to burst. Biting down on his lip he practically lets out a scream as his cockhead finally drags between your sticky wet folds. “A-ahh!”

“D-don’t!” You cough, slapping his hips. “D-don’t you d-dare cum!”

Fuck. Just listening to you angrily reprimand him makes his balls tighten up even more if possible. Tip not even penetrating your tight hole yet, he takes a few deep breaths, head hung between his shoulders watching his length dangle above your pussy. There’s no way he can let go this easily, too scared to even plunge an inch inside of you the more he psyches himself out and stares between your lower halves drunkenly. 

“‘Mm sorry, s-sorry.” He curses, jerking his hips lower until the fat cockhead gets sucked inside of your warm cunt. Chubbed velvety folds wrap around him as if to draw more in, twitching violently where he struggles to not move and keep control of this moment.

“N-no! You can’t, not y-yet!” You exclaim, reaching a hand up to ball up a chunk of his hair up and pull his head back. “Pull out! D-don’t you dare cum!” 

With all the force you can find, you push his hips hard enough to make him slip out, earning a loud guttural shout as he falls out to the side. Even the two inches he managed to get in leave your hole open, hungrily clenching to be fed again. “G-god.” Whining, you sit up and rip off Jeno’s shirt, stradling Jisung’s sturdy thighs.

“You seriously have to be beating off 10 times a day to be cumming from that.” You half-joke, pushing his shirt up to scratch your nails down his chest and slowly bring him back down. His cheeks light up in flames, ruddy bright even in the dark of his bedroom.

“S-sorry, I really wanted to.. make it good for you.” He says pathetically, sniffling and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“It’ll be good for me if you last longer than a minute baby.” You jeer lightly, scooting back to remove his sweats and get a real good look at the size of his long lean figure. Surprisingly fit for someone who hardly ever leaves his bedroom. “Forget all that shit you watch in porn for a second. Just focus on me, okay?”

It’s evident by the state of his trembling figure and sad wet eyes how badly he wants this. How badly he needs this. Slowly lowering your middle down on his hips, you gently position his girthy length between your wet folds, hands smoothing up his trim waist to his chest to hold on to. “S-slow, like this.”

The small amount of willpower you have helps you ease up and down his length to coat him in your wet slick. Jisung bares his teeth, reaching to circle your waist with his big hands, anything to feel your smooth skin. He has to shut his eyes for now, especially when he first looks up and sees your chest bouncing up and down almost like slow-motion.

This- this is better than porn. God, this is better than anything, the smell of desire clinging to the roof of his mouth, your sweaty bodies rubbing together. How the fuck is he not supposed to cum like this? How the fuck does he stop himself from the humiliation of premature ejaculation? He can go for hours falling down a hole of pornographic content, abusing his fleshlight until the batteries run dry. But this is too much, too good to squeeze the fleshy meat lining your hips, too fucking good to drag his hands back up and follow the shape leading up to your tight waist and heavy breasts.

“You’re doing so good.” You manage to say, losing yourself to the pleasure with each passing rub of your clit grinding against the lifted ridge of his cockhead. “Can you take more?”

Jisung nods rapidly, screaming for more, digging his fingers into your hips for more. He can’t, he really can’t, but he wants to so fucking bad. He wants to be inside of you already, wants to feel the tight clamp of your cunt gripping around him until he’s near death.

“Yes yes, p-please.” He has no idea how obscene he looks begging from your point of view above him, thick lips parting open dribbling saliva from the corners. He’s even prettier like this, helpless and powerless to your word.

“Stay put.” You say sternly, lifting your hips to wrap around the middle of his cock. “Let me move slow, okay?”

He can do nothing besides nod again, eyes blinking open needing to watch as you rub the tip against your hole and bite down to suppress a cry. He’s just as thick as Jeno, you think, maybe a little less, still long enough to leave your cervix bruised. “F-fuck you’re.. big.”

It’s the hardest test of strength to not slam his hips upward, to stay in place the way you told him to. His teeth clench as the last inch of his size disappears inside of you, the heat from your inner walls gripped around him makes his lower back arch, tears well up in his eyes.

You try to move slowly, try to circle your hips and stretch yourself open on his length. 

“F-fuck I’m—I can’t do it.” He cries, scratching your hips and upper thighs roughly. “Too wet, too warm.”

“You c-can baby,” linking your fingers through his, you move his hands to his chest and roll your hips faster. Keeping your hands held together as you build up speed and lift up and down a little faster until a burn scorches up your thighs. “You’re doing so good.”

“Ahh, p-please!” He begs, eyes and nose scrunching up the faster you ride his length. “N-need to!” 

“Do it,” encouraging him, you grab onto his neck firmly with both hands, forcing his face to look at you. “Fuck me.”

Jisung’s chest rises steadily, shoulders stiffening as his teeth grit and he reaches for your waist to toss you down on his bed. Without sliding out more than a few inches he thrusts erratically to chase after the release that’s been begging to be let out from the second he got an inch inside of you. Hard thrust rock your back up higher, still clawing at his neck and shoulders even as his weight drops down on you faster and faster. The entire floor feels like it’s shaking with each powerful collision of his hips clapping against the back of your thighs and ass.

“Y-yes yes!” You moan prettily, the same moans that have gotten him through 5 rounds of fisting his cock like no tomorrow. The same moans he wished would be for him finally singing from your lips for him, only him.

“My n-name,” he stutters, face red and sweaty, lips covered with spit. “P-please say m-my name.”

“Jisung,” you whine, that seductive sweet whine that can make him lose his mind. High-pitched and shattered, sending his hips into a furious pace the more you continue to repeat it. “Sungie, Jisung.. p-please don’t, d-don’t stop! Jisung!”

“Ahh f-fuckkk!” He can barely control his hips as he pulls out with the wettest pop, dripping wet cock slapping down on your stomach. It already hurts too much to even bother with stroking himself to finish, hips writhing forward leaving a slimy path of your own arousal lined up the middle of your stomach.

“Jisu—“ your palms swipes up from the base of his size, cock still fat and long even beneath your stretched fingers. It’s enough to empty his balls until they literally ache. Having to hunch forward and whimper through it. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the sight of your abdomen painted in the milky white cream jumping in rivulets out of his twitching dick.

“Holy shit..” you sigh out, catching your breath under the sticky weight of warm cum beginning to dry on your skin. “That’s— you came so much..”

“S-sorry..” he murmurs, moving to your side to lie down, head spinning too much as he blinks at the ceiling. “For all of that.”

“Why? It’s cute..” you say shyly, somehow pulling that soft shy tone out of some hidden bag of tricks you must have after all that. “Never a bad thing to like fucking that much..”

“Think I just like you that much.” He admits, eyes shifting to the side to gauge your reaction. He shouldn’t say that, given the reason you’re even here to begin with, but how can he not?

“I can tell,” you smirk, dragging two fingers through the mess painted on your stomach. “I’m sure we can figure something out.. I know how to work your brother if you haven’t noticed.”

Jisung hums, sitting up feeling strung out and exhausted. “I should clean you, right?”

“That’d be nice.” You nod, watching him get up to find a clean towel.

“How was it? I mean, like, how did I do?” He asks, sitting down and lightly dragging a small towel from your chest to your stomach.

A sneaky smile pulls at your lips, sighing and relaxing. “Not bad for a gooner.”

Jisung blows out a breath nervously, scratching his cheek and shrugging. “I don’t know you’re talking about.”

Sitting up, you reach for his right hand, lifting it up to your face to trace over all the rough calluses lined up and down his palm. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll forget how your hand even felt.”

“What?”

“Jeno’s not my only fuck buddy.” You wink, shoving his hand away. “Let’s get dressed before he eats through everything.”

Jisung helps you get up, not wanting to further question what you mean by that. Instead he finds a clean shirt to hand you, confirming that he’s right, you do look better in his clothes.

“You’re not getting this shirt back by the way.” You say, pinching his cheek exactly the same way you had weeks ago. “Cutie.”

Dabbing at his blushing cheeks he watches you head out before following after you. Needing to calm himself for a minute. 

You can keep it.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

#jisung smut #park jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #neopuppy fics #jisung fanfic #park jisung fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #jisung x you #nct dream x you

[strawberrymatchawhore]

moonlight

rafe cameron

“i just wanna get high with my lover, veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo”

summary- you make the mistake of getting too high and letting your horny addict bf take care of it

warnings- dubcon/noncon, filming, semimeanbf!rafe, drugs, party, alcohol, nutting inside without permission, fucking while unconscious DO NOT READ IF U R UNCOMFORTABLE WITH STUFF LIKE THIS PLEASE.

you stumble onto bed as your boyfriend rafe guides you back into his room, it was nearly 2 am. the both of you leaving from a party that one of the kooks hosted. you underestimated the amount you drank and smoked, your head pounding as your body began to heat up.

“rafeee its hot.” you whined fanning yourself, staring at him taking his shirt off and changing into his pajama pants. his biceps flexing as he picks something from off the floor. you couldn’t take the waves of warmth coming onto you and you started taking you clothes off, unable to as youre too gone to correctly take off the top you were wearing.

you feel strong arms roughly pull you to your feet, helping you take it off. the blurry sight of rafes dilated eyes staring down at you, biting his lip. he stares down at your chest heaving up and down, you swallowed.

“how much did you smoke” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“fuck i dont even know like 1 joint maybe 2.” you slurred giggling at out of it you sounded, legs giving up you sat back down on the bed.

“jeez y/n really.. and i know youve been drinking too, how stupid are you ?” he sighed, hands running through his hair. you could tell he was high too, the way he was slow and his flush cheeks.

“im not stupid, i was just having fun.” you argued, confused. blinking at him, maybe realizing the amount of shit you actually consumed tonight.

"i always gotta take care of you huh baby ?” he sighs grabbing your jaw, thumb rolling over your puffy lips. you look up at him with your glossy eyes, your heartbeat bumping against your chest. you open your mouth to say something but he roughly grabs your hair and pulls, your scalp stings at the action.

“god you drive me fucking insane.” he climbs onto the bed and gets on top of you. sloppily kissing you, you whine at the force and put your hand on his bare chest. he moves his hand from your face and down between your legs, two fingers slowly getting shoved into you.

your eyes squeeze shut, your brain not being able to handle this sensation. you mumbled his name grabbing his arm and squeezing, whimpers leaving your mouth as he curls his fingers.

“rafe please” you whined, arching your back when he makes slow circles around your clit. the room was quiet, but you could hear the sounds of how wet and rough he was fingering you.

“that feel good ?” he breathily says, he speeds up. and your eyes roll, grabbing harder onto his arms as you cum of his fingers. your body growing more tired from the strong orgasm you just experienced. weed really does enhance everything to the next level.

“spread your legs f’me.” words fly out of both ears as you try to listen to him, but physically you couldn’t. he laughs and uses his hand to open them wider, the view of your pussy makes his cock even harder than it already was. you were wet, so wet.

you feel him pushing into you slowly, a little groan falls out of your mouth from the stretching. no matter how many times you guys have had sex, he was always too big and never really fit inside.

you open your eyes and a phone camera is above your face, you didnt mind. you and him always did shit like this.

“w-wait the condom.” you slur, forgetting that you werent on birth control.

“shh its okay baby, you can trust me.” he convinces you, and you back off. his steady pace quickens when the coke finally is at its peak. your soft moans getting louder as he snaps his hips against yours, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust making you dizzier each time.

“is this what you wanted sweetheart ? got all cute and fucked up for me to fuck you like the pillow princess you are ?” he teased, his big veiny hand choking you. this felt so good, and the only thing on your mind was how good his dick felt.

“open your eyes baby, look at the camera. show it how much of a pretty slut you are for me.” your tits bounce up and down, mouth falling open. you shyly turn to the side, he wont allow it though. he grabbed your face and spit in your mouth, slapping you.

“whatd i just say.” he looks at you sternly and you pout.

you squeal at the sudden changed position of your legs, pushed against your chest. the feeling of him fucking you gets stronger, he went deeper in and out.

“fuck- mmm youre so beautiful and perfect, and youre all mine.” he grips your thighs and fucks you harder. he shuts off the camera and tosses his phone to the side.

it started to get overwhelming, your eyes tearing up from the pleasure as you slowly passed out. rafe noticed but that didn’t stop him, no it felt too good. he couldnt just leave you untouched the way you were looking to be filled with his cum.

his face shiny from the sweat, he looks down and pushes on your stomach. he could feel his tip thrusting up at you, groaning he slows down to kiss your cheek damp with your tears.

“oh fuck fuck fuck, im about to cum.” he grinds his hips into yours as he fills you up. he pulls out and leans over to grab a towel, cleaning up the evidence. but before that he couldnt help but stare at the sight, all perfect and filled.. hole dripping with his cum. its not like you would be angry right ? i mean with a few words and you would be the one apologizing for his actions. its rafe, you will always forgive him.

#rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #obx #obx fanfiction #rafecameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #obx smut #outer banks smut #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #dark!rafe cameron

[elementroar]

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

So this actually started out more of a 'funny' post, but I realized that it really is a very important insight into how A.B.A. and Paracelsus function and interact, especially for his earlier days in XX/Accent Core +R

And I wasn't joking about the vore. It's not in the erotic sense...but it certainly is in the 'literally eating parts of your partner ' sense...

Also apologies for the long word dumps, it got wordier and longer than I expected.

Paracelsus (used to) REALLY love blood

It goes without saying, Paracelsus really loves blood. Well he used to anyway.

By STRIVE, he says he felt he lost his sanity whenever he gets hyped on blood in the past. To the point, he has sworn off blood (and violence) as if it was an addiction. Basically, he has managed to go clean sometime between their last appearance and STRIVE.

To not go too far into his backstory again (which you can read here), Paracelsus is a magical axe that fed on blood and increased his own power with blood; and would use warriors as hosts to cause more bloodshed and thus gain more blood and power for himself. Paracelsus doesn't need to 'eat' blood to survive (he was left host-less for about 20 years, and now abstains in STRIVE and is just fine), making the addiction metaphor seem to be accurate.

Back in XX/ACCENT CORE, he needed to drink fresh blood to transform into his superpowered Moroha mode (this is mechanically replaced by Jealous Rage mode now). Similar to his current gameplay, he could get blood and transform by A.B.A. piercing someone with his bladed end; or if A.B.A. fed him one of three blood packs she'd have on her.

He reacts pretty much like a dog getting a treat, anticipating it when she reaches into her pockets for a pack too. And he truly didn't care where the blood comes from, even if it's from A.B.A. herself.

A.B.A. coughs up blood and all Paracelsus wants to do is have a taste. Note that he barely actually reacts to her or himself getting hit or fighting in the old games. It's kind of a stark contrast to his many reactions and concern for her wellbeing now.

Make no mistake, despite being "kinder and gentler" than how he treated his previous hosts - by not completely mind controlling her into a frenzy and caring enough that he doesn't want her to die - Paracelsus was truly obsessed with drinking blood still, and all the fighting skills and power he imparted on A.B.A. was to make her strong enough to defeat opponents and gather blood for him too. Hence the 'manipulation' he felt guilty of in STRIVE.

And he gets even more bloodthirsty in Moroha mode aka what Paracelsus is without his 'sanity'.

You're the worse you when on blood

Prior to STRIVE and Paracelsus' current sludgy form, his powered-up form gave him a goat's head and his persona changes into that of his old berserker self.

This increase in aggression and bloodlust also affected A.B.A. through their empathetic bond, making her also take joy in violence and also clearly hyperventilating and tweaking out in some animations, like she's high.

Not to mention that to fight in this mode, every time Paracelsus makes a successful attack, A.B.A. also gets damaged (hence 'Moroha' mode as it means 'double-edged'). In-universe, this could mean that Paracelsus is sapping both the blood of an opponent and A.B.A. at the same time, indiscriminately as he says.

And he seems somewhat crueler in this form, as he has an even more violent and vicious state above Moroha mode called Goku Moroha mode. He enters it by consuming another blood pack, but he also seems to bite down on A.B.A.'s hand without a care and holds onto it while he transforms.

The impact of all this on A.B.A

Picking up Paracelsus was truly a double-edged sword/axe for A.B.A. On one hand, he was older and savvier about the outside world (even though he spent like 20 years just rusting away on the ground somewhere) and having him as her emotional support key and literal weapon led her to actually daring to explore the outside world, and he provided and (attempted to) advised her on things she didn't know about.

On the other hand, Paracelsus' satiating his bloodthirst was still his main objective, and it was also hurting A.B.A. Although Paracelsus was making some effort to not outright get her killed, A.B.A's additional resilience as a homunculus probably also helped her survive take being Paracelsus' host as long as she did.

Paracelsus was the original toxic element in their relationship, and it's likely over the years he's come to realize and regrets the harm he was doing to A.B.A. constantly, and why he has completely sworn off blood and violence entirely by STRIVE.

However, his bloodlust fueled and amplified the worse tendencies of A.B.A. from early on, and this seems to have stuck with her till the present in STRIVE. Her current extremely violent reaction when feeling jealousy or anxiety is likely how she's been conditioned to do so by Paracelsus, even when he himself is no longer the source of that bloodlust.

The difference now is that A.B.A.'s new powered-up state of Jealous Rage is mainly fueled by her wrath and fear instead of Paracelsus' bloodlust. Paracelsus becomes sludge now, affected by the toxicity of her unstable emotions going haywire and her will becoming decidedly dominant over his. The one who is toxic has become inverted.

What's more, it seems that the skills Paracelsus imparted on her before also carried over and stuck with her, allowing her to fight independently since Paracelsus isn't trying to encourage her to violence this time. She's become so dominant that she now can even force a new form/transformation onto Paracelsus when she does her Overdrive The Law is Key, Key is King while in Jealous Rage.

In the game files, this red form is called the "Hyoui" form, meaning 'possession'. It being red is interesting because it seems to be a callback to Paracelsus' moniker of being the Sanguine Gale. The concept art also shows the pretty disturbing way he's being morphed into it by A.B.A. when she does the Overdrive.

When in her Jealous Rage mode, the bottom half Paracelsus' where his axe blade is, somehow becomes more axe-like than it ever has been in the games. In the earlier games, his blade half didn't change, only his head does into the goat-head. What's more disturbing is that eyes already started appearing on the axe half even while Paracelsus tries to maintain his original face as much as possible.

When executing the Overdrive, A.B.A. swings with the axe half as the sludge pulls from Paracelsus' face to form this new toothed red axe head. Is it a new persona? Is Paracelsus still conscious in his face half or in the axe half at all? Does 'possession' have double meaning where A.B.A. is possessed by her own wrath, but also Paracelsus is now the one being possessed by A.B.A.'s will into forming the red axe form?

The interesting thing too is that A.B.A. executes the Overdrive with precise strikes, liked a skilled warrior. IMO, at this moment A.B.A. ironically became the exact kind of warrior that berserker Paracelsus would have wanted and caused him to even revert back into that primal early form of his that was barely sentient. They gained perfect synergy for the attack, but both are literally out of their minds.

What started this post

Just a funny thing but the reason why I even thought of, and then looked into all this, was because of A.B.A.'s biting of Paracelsus at the top of the post. I was wondering why Paracelsus doesn't say a word of protest when she does this to him, then remembered that he used to kinda drink her blood (and turns out he too has bitten her before), and I think he's prolly thinking "I deserve this".

#guilty gear strive #a.b.a guilty gear #paracelsus guilty gear #long post is long #my analysis #paraba #arc system works #aba guilty gear

[onlyfezco]

Obvious - Fezco

Summary: You insist on meeting your cousin Rue's drug dealer and an interesting friendship develops in the process.

Fezco x Reader

Word Count: 4,840

Author's Note: Started this in March of 2022 and it's finally getting posted lol. This is my first Fezco fic since Angus' passing which is so hard to type I'm crying at that. I still miss him. A lot. Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Rue was your closest cousin. Not that you had many, and the few you did have lived somewhere outside of East Highland, but that was beside the point. She was a year younger than you, so the two of you spent most of your childhood glued to one another. When her dad died, you saw the toll it took on her. You realized then that she started using but she played it off like she had it all under control. That’s what an addict does. Eventually you did confront her about it. She said it was mostly weed, so you let it slide. One day she had you drive her to restock her supply. That’s when you met Fezco for the first time.

“So you’re the guy selling my baby cousin drugs,” you blurted out after Rue did a quick introduction then started making her way to Ashtray behind the refrigerated drinks.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” Rue shouted at you annoyed. “You’re only a year older than me.”

“A year and three months,” you corrected. You only got specific with the three months to annoy Rue. You crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed the ginger sitting on the counter in front of you. “And how old are you?”

Fez observed you carefully. It’s not everyday some random person immediately brings up him selling drugs directly to his face. Especially a cute random person. “You always talk to new people like this?”

“Only when my cousin’s health is at stake.” You sighed and shook your head. “Look, I don’t have beef with you. I realized a while ago that Rue’s gonna do what she wants. I just want to make sure she’s being safe about it... well, as safe as you can get with drugs.”

Fez nodded along as you spoke understanding your concern for your cousin. He knew Rue wasn’t going around promoting that she was doing drugs or that he sold. You were just looking out for her. “I get it.”

“I’ve heard too many stories about people overdosing on Fentanyl or something they didn’t know was laced with Fentanyl. I don’t want to find out that happened to my cousin.”

“You don’t have to worry, ma. I don’t mess with that shit. All my stuff is good.”

You squinted at him taking in his words. “Better be. Otherwise I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Fez chuckled. He didn’t doubt for a second you wouldn’t fight behind Rue. “Understood.”

“You go to school with Rue? I ain’t never seen you ‘round before.” Fez went to most of the East Highland High School parties to deal. Since he’s never seen you there, either you didn’t go to that school, or you didn’t go to parties. Either way, he was missing out on you. 

“Oh God, no,” you said. “I go to Centenary.”

“Oh, so you smart smart.” You smiled and rolled your eyes at Fezco’s statement, and he decided right then and there that was something he wanted to see more of.

“Something like that,” you replied giggling.

“You ready to go, Y/N,” Rue popped up practically out of no where and asked. Damn, why did Rue have to be so quick.

“Uhh, yeah,” you said to your cousin. Rue shoved her hands into her dad’s old maroon jacket and started to walk out the store. You turned to Fezco and said, “I’m gonna be watching you, sir.”

Fez smiled at the thought. “I look forward to it, ma.”

After that, you made a few impromptu trips to Fez’s store without Rue. You told him your grandma lived in the neighborhood, which she did, so it wasn’t a lie. But Fez did point out that before Rue, you had never came to the store before. 

“I mean I could always go somewhere else for my carbonated beverages if you want,” you said as you turned on your heel to leave the store without making your usual purchase.

“Nah,” Fez replied grabbing your wrist stopping you, “I ain’t say all that.”

When your mom told you that Rue overdosed, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe if you had told your Aunt Leslie what Rue was doing, she could have got some help. But you knew Rue. Ever since her dad’s death she had been struggling. She would have to finally deal with that grief if she was going to stop, and you knew that was the last thing she wanted to do.

A few days after Rue’s overdose, you went to visit Fezco. You weren’t sure if he knew or not. Even though he was her dealer, he was close to Rue, so you thought he should know. And it would be better coming from you than to hear it on the street.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N,” Fezco greeted you with a smile on his face. 

You tried to smile at the red head, but it was weak. “Hey Fezco.”

“What’s wrong,” Fez asked, immediately knowing something was up.

You walked to him fiddling with your fingers nervous to tell him about your cousin. “Uh... it’s Rue,” you said looking up at him with somber eyes. “She overdosed.”

Fez’s face became tense. He didn’t question it. He wasn’t shocked, just sad.

You couldn’t take looking into his piercing blue eyes any longer and set your eyes on the candy on the counter. “She’s still at the hospital going through withdrawals. Aunt Leslie’s going to put her in rehab when she gets out.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Fez said as he placed his hand on your arm to comfort you. Your eyes met his again and you could tell he genuinely felt bad.

“Its..,” you paused and laughed. “I was going to say it’s okay, but its not. She didn’t die, so that’s great but... I didn’t know it was this bad with her.”

Fez dropped his hand and leaned against the counter behind him. “Why’d you come here, ma?”

You looked at him confused. “What are you talking about? Rue’s your friend, I thought you should know.”

“She is but... you ain’t come here to blame me?”

You were taken aback. “No, Fez. It’s not your fault. Rue made a choice. And if she didn’t get her drugs from you, it would be someone else.”

Fez was quiet as he took in what you said. You wanted to, no, needed him to understand this wasn’t his fault. 

“Listen to me Fezco. Rue’s got a lot of problems that she has to deal with. She was using drugs to cope with her grief. I know you wouldn’t want her to OD. I’d rather know she was going to you for her fix, than some random guy who didn’t give two shits about whether or not she lived or died. So I don’t want you putting any of this on yourself, okay?”

Fez gave a small nod to let you knew he understood. You don’t know if he actually believed what you said, but you were glad it was out there. 

Over the summer, you visited the store more frequently. You did see him outside the store once at a pool party. Of course you pointed out that you’d never seen him at a party before. Your crowd was a little different than the East Highland High School bunch. Fez played it off though, but you knew he was only there for you. 

An unexpected hangout occurred one evening when you stopped by the store on a cloudy day. The flow of customers was already crazy slow, then it started raining and store had been empty besides you, Fez, and Ash for the last hour.  

“Aye, bro, can we go home? I’m bored as shit,” Ash said coming from behind the refrigerators. 

Fez looked to you sitting on top of the freezer that held the popsicles and ice-cream before he spoke. “Uh, yeah. Go head and pack up.”

You hopped off your self designated spot in store. “Welp, I guess that’s my queue to head home.” 

“Nah,” Fez said and stopped you in your tracks. “You ain’t gotta go home.”

“But I gotta get outta here,” you interrupted giggling. 

“Nah, ma. I was finna say you could come to my place and hang... if you want.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Fez’s and your relationship mostly consisted of you just hanging out at his store while he worked. The two of you texted every now and then, but that was about it. 

“Oh... Uh, sure,” you managed to stammer out. Then you realized that didn’t sound very enthusiastic so you added, “Yeah, I’d love to come over.”

You followed Fez and Ashtray home in your car since you drove yourself to the store. You were anxious the whole way there and the rain definitely wasn’t helping. 

Fez’s place looked homey. The living room felt familiar; the couches reminding you of your grandma’s house. 

“You want anythin’ to drank,” Fez asked making his way to the kitchen.

“Uh, no, I’m good. Thanks though,” you replied slowly making your way to where he went. It was always awkward the first time you went over to a friend’s house. 

Fez reappeared from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He eyed you for a second before speaking. “You want to watch a movie or somethin’?”

The rest of the evening was spent on Fez’s couch, watching old 90′s movies. Even Ashtray joined you for one. It was nice. It felt normal, not like you somehow became friends with you cousin’s drug dealer.

“Oh my God, Fezzy,” you shouted excitedly. “You won’t believe- Rue,” you paused when you saw your cousin coming from the back door that led to Ashtray. You glanced at Fez, then back to Rue. “What are you doing here?”

“Just popped in for a visit,” Rue answered. Her hands fidgeted in her pockets of her dad’s jacket. 

“Unhuh...,” you hummed knowing she didn’t just stop by to see the boys.

“What are you doing here,” Rue asked curious.

“I came by to see Fez,” you stated quickly. “You just got out of rehab, Rue.”

Rue rolled her eyes at you. “Yeah, and I had no plans on staying clean. I learned my lesson cuz. I know my limits now.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You only know your limits cause you overdosed Rue! You almost died!”

“Key word being almost.”

“Oh my God,” you shook your head again turning away from the conversation. “I’ll talk to you later, Fez,” you said then turned to walk out of the store.

“Hey, Y/N,” Rue said and you stopped in your tracks. “You’re not gonna tell my mom are you?”

You huffed exhausted by your cousin. You telling her mom should be the least of her concerns. You still faced the door but turned your head to look at Rue. Your eyes glossed over with frustrated tears. “I wish you cared about yourself like the rest of us do.” 

Two weeks went by before you saw Fez again. The ginger was starting to think you blamed him for Rue’s relapse. Even though you had told him Rue made a choice to do drugs so it wasn’t his fault, your silence made him think you thought otherwise now. 

It was Sunday afternoon when Fez heard someone at his door. He looked through the peephole and saw you, then quickly opened the door.

“What’s up, ma?”

“Hey... I went by the store first but you weren’t there. I know I should have called or something, but I just wanted to see you.”

“Nah, you good. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“Nah, come in,” Fez said then stepped to the side to let you in. 

“Thanks,” you replied as you walked past him. You had only been in Fez’s place once, but it felt familiar. You just stood in the entry way while Fez closed the door. “Um, can we talk?”

“Yeah, come on,” Fez said nodding towards the living room. 

Fez took his usual place on the couch and you followed suit sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry about ghosting you these last two weeks,” you said, not being able to make eye contact with him. You felt guilty for ignoring him even though your issues were with Rue. Fez just sat there quiet. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you needed him to say something. “Not to sound cliché, but it was me not you.”

“It sure felt like it was because of me,” Fez said.

You turned on the couch to face him more. “It wasn’t, Fez. I promise. I’m mad at Rue, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but she got her drugs from me and Ash. I could have told her no.”

“And then she would have thrown a fit and went somewhere else. Probably somewhere dangerous.” 

“Why you keep makin’ excuses for me? You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

“What,” you asked, your eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Fez, no, I don’t want to be anywhere else but near you.” You spoke before you could realize what you were saying but it was true. Fez finally looked towards you and you averted his eyes. The silence was too loud. You were careful with your next words. “If I have to tell you every day, then I will,” you said slowly then looked back up at him. “Rue’s choice to do drugs, and keep doing them after her OD, is hers and hers alone. It’s not your fault.” 

Fez took in what you said and how it made him feel then began to shake his head. “Nah, y/n. You tryin’ to justify it still don’t make it right.”

“Fine,” you said exhausted, throwing your hands up in the air. “It’s not right! Rue coping with drugs. You selling her drugs. None of it is right, okay! But Rue is family and you’re my friend. So I’m not going anywhere,” you shouted then just fell back into the couch crossing your arms over your chest. 

Fez just watched you from his place on the couch. Anger and annoyance evident on your face. The situation sucked, but Fez didn’t want to lose you. He was worried if Rue overdosed again, not only would he lose a sister, but you would never forgive him. Regardless of how much you told him it wasn’t his fault she was on drugs, he was the supplier. But, if you wanted to keep being friends with him, who was he to tell you no. 

“Aight, ma,” Fez drawled out in his usual tone. 

“Aight what,” you asked for clarification. 

“You’re right... and stubborn,” Fez said, trying to stifle a laugh. 

You eyed him cautiously. “Elaborate.” 

Fez stayed sitting forward, but turned his head turned towards you and let it fall back on the couch. “Rue’s gonna find a way to do drugs whether or not I give them to her. She was on them before she met me.”

You uncrossed your arms resting them in your lap as you sighed feeling sorry about your cousin. You hated the mess she got in and wished for nothing more than her sobriety. While you were thinking about Rue, Fez’s hand grabbed your forearm then slid down to your hand, pulling it so it was on the empty cushion space between you two, so he could hold it.

“And you’re right about us being friends,” Fez continued. You bit your lip trying to stop your grin from getting too big, and Fez returned a small smile. 

After that day, you had seen less of Fez than you usually had in the summer. It was your senior year, so you were busy trying to keep your grades up while staying active in your clubs. You explained your schedule to Fez so he didn’t trip at the fact that he was seeing less of you. 

Things between you and Rue were strained. After you talked to Fez, you talked to your cousin and told her if she kept doing drugs you weren’t going to stick around and watch her kill herself. You were no longer holding any sympathy for what she was going through. Your Aunt Leslie and Gia managed to keep living without having their grief hold them back, why couldn’t Rue at least try? But Rue became spiteful, not caring that you were cutting yourself off from her. 

You missed how things were in the summer. No stress. Rue was in rehab so you knew she was safe. Spending afternoons at Fez’s store. Missing Fez was how you found yourself at an East Highland party. One of your friends brought it up and you were quick to agree to the outing. You knew he would be dealing at the party, and that was more than enough of a reason to go.

“Hey,” Rue said plopping down on the couch by Fez.

“What’s up, kid?”

“What’s going on with you and my cousin,” Rue asked, cutting straight to the chase. She was never one to beat around the bush.

“Whatchu mean,” Fez asked.

“Y/N doesn’t do parties. Especially not East Highland parties. And I know she’s not here for me.”

“Shit, she might be here for you,” Fez replied nonchalantly but he was hoping you were here for him. He missed seeing you on a regular basis. 

“Nah, she’s not even talking to me right now. Cut me off cause I won’t stop using. Trying to teach me a lesson or some shit,” Rue said while she rolled her eyes. “So much for family.”

“Don’t say that shit, Rue.” Fez was getting agitated, because he knew how much you cared for her. “That girl loves you. She just wants you to do better.”

“If she loved me, she wouldn’t leave,” Rue argued, her shoulders tensing up. 

“Nah, kid. That’s not how love works. She just doesn’t want to sit around and watch you kill yo’self.”

Rue sat there stunned, your words replaying in her head. “That’s exactly what Y/N told me... how much have you two been hanging out?”

Fez just shook his head as he took his blunt from behind his ear and lit it. “She misses you. Talk to her, Rue.”

You had been at the party for about an hour now. Attempting to play it cool as if Fez wasn’t the sole reason for you being there, you were trying to wait before you went and actually spoke to him. You noticed him a few minutes after you arrived. The two of you made eye contact and waved, but that was it.

Finally managing to leave your friends, you were making your way to Fezco when Rue stepped in front of you.

“Oh sor- hey Rue.”

“Hey, cuz,” Rue said. She looked... nervous. She was fidgeting with her jacket’s hood strings. Her eyes looking practically everywhere else but at you. “Um, can we talk for a sec?”

You looked past her to see Fez still sitting on the couch. Some guy coming up to him to make a deal. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s step outside.”

Rue nodded, then you both made your way to the front door. There was too much going on in the backyard to have a private conversation there. You opened the door and let Rue step out into the cool night air first. 

You leaned against one of the front porch beams while Rue just stood there awkwardly and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. 

The silence between you two was awkward which was a first. You tried to wait for Rue to speak, but she struggled to find the words.

“What’s up, Rue?”

“Umm, I just- I,” Rue stammered out while she fidgeted in her spot. “Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N. We’ve never not talked to each other like this and I hate it. I miss you.”

You sighed, sorrow filling your eyes. “I miss you, too, cousin.”

Rue’s eyes glossed over as she started to smile. “Uh, I haven’t been using as much anymore.”

You reached out and placed your hand on her wrist for a moment. “That’s great.”

Rue nodded, her eyes dogging around. “Yeah... I met someone.”

“Oh,” you replied, your eyebrows rising up in surprise. You were thrilled Rue was using less, but you knew if her sobriety was because of a person, it wouldn’t last long. “Do I know them?”

“No, she’s new. Her name is Jules.”

“Jules,” you repeated, making sure you pronounced it right.

Rue nodded, her smile growing bigger. “Yeah, she’s here tonight. Pretty blonde in the bright pink mini skirt.”

“You look happy.”

She ran her fingers through her curls, pushing her hair back. “I’m working on it.”

It was quiet for a moment as you looked down at your cousin. “Hey, Rue.”

“Yeah?”

“I know we haven’t been talking, but... you know I’m here if you need me.” You placed your hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“I know,” Rue said nodding. Then you placed your other hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. Since you were on the step above her, you towered over her in the hug so you sat your chin on her head.

“Okay... you can let go now, Y/N,” Rue said after you were holding onto her a little too long.

“No, gotta make up for lost time,” you said, hugging her tighter.

“It wasn’t that much time.”

“It felt like forever,” you said dragging out the r then placing a bunch of kisses on Rue’s head.

“Ew, okay okay, I get it,” Rue said squirming in your arms. “Why don’t you go and kiss Fez?”

You stopped abruptly, pulling back slightly to look down at Rue. “Why would you say that? Did he... did he say something to you?”

Rue gently pushed herself out of your arms. “No, but it’s obvious something is happening between you two.”

“What,” you asked shaking your head, nervously running your hand over your hair. “Nothing’s happening. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends who wanna fuck,” Rue replied. She was always the blunt one in the family. 

“Rue!”

“Am I wrong,” she asked, her eyes on you.

“Uhh-I mean...”

“Un huh. Just tell him how you feel,” Rue said as she started to make her way back into the party.

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

Rue turned around so she was walking backwards now. “It is when the other person likes you back.” Then she turned back around and you lost sight of her in the sea of people.

“But...,” you shouted then began to whisper since you no longer saw her, “how do you know he likes me?”

Now you were nervous. You weren’t really one to flirt, at least not on purpose anyway. It was one thing to act normal around Fez and pretend you didn’t have a huge crush on him, it was another for someone to tell you he liked you and pretend to be normal. What if Rue was wrong? What if whatever sign she was getting from Fezco, was just him being a good friend, and not him being interested in you?

You made your way back into the party, but completely passed by the living room and went straight for the bathroom. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a line so you went right in. You locked the door then went to the mirror to look at yourself. Everything was still in place. Your lipstick was perfect. Your hair styled the way you liked it. Now, if only you could get that look of fear off your face. 

“Breath, Y/N,” you said to yourself. You took a long exhale then inhaled. “Rue wouldn’t lie to you... well, maybe about drugs but not about this. And it’s Fez. Just put out some feelers to see where his head is at.” You nodded at yourself then turned the faucet on to splash a little water on yourself. Then your eyes grew wide as you thought, looking at yourself in the mirror again. “But what if he’s just being nice? IT’S FEZ! He’d never intentionally be mean to me. So how will I know if he’s only being polite and not actually flirting with me. Ughh!”

You dried your hand on a nearby towel then turned away from the mirror. You took some deep breaths to try and shake off the nervous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. “Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine.” You thought about every time you hung out with Fez over the summer. Going to his house for the first time. Him giving you candy for free at the store. Him holding your hand on his couch. Fez was a good friend and you didn’t want to lose that, but you couldn’t keep holding your feelings for the ginger in. 

“Hey Y/N,” Fezco said once you stopped in front of him. A small smile growing on his lips. Somehow his eyes managed to shimmer in the crappy living room lighting. 

“Uh can you give me a ride home? I don’t feel so hot and I can’t find my friends.”

Technically it wasn’t a lie. You didn’t feel great. Your anxiety about asking Fez how he felt about you made you sick to your stomach.

“Sure thing, ma,” Fez replied, getting up from the couch without a second thought. Add that to the list of reasons you liked Fez. He would drop everything for you. The party wasn’t done so there was still money to be made, yet here he was, walking you out the party to his car.

The ride was quiet and awkward which was unusual. You only felt awkward around Fez when you had to bring up Rue’s drug addiction. Glancing over at Fez, he was oblivious to the worry that was going on in your head. His eyes focused on the dark road ahead as he nodded along to the music. The streetlights highlighting his freckles as you drove through the neighborhood. 

“Do you like me,” you asked, interrupting Fez.

Fez’s eyes left the road for a moment confused at your sudden change in the conversation. He readjusted himself in his spot before he spoke. “Yeah, course I like you. Wouldn’t be giving you a ride home if I didn’t.”

You shook your head annoyed. “No, Fez. I mean do you like like me? Like if we were in middle school and you found a note in your locker that said ‘do you like me? Yes or no.’ Which one would you circle?”

“Oh.”

Oh. OH! What did he mean by oh. Your brain was running a mile a minute now. Fez better say something else and quick. 

After what felt like forever, but was only about 5 seconds. “Yeah... thought it was obvious I was feelin’ you.” 

You let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. “Obvious?”

“Yeah, I mean I thought you was real cute that first day you came in the store grillin’ me about what I was sellin’ Rue.” Fez chuckled to himself remembering that day.

“You thought I was cute,” you asked baffled. This was all so confusing for you. 

Fez shook his head, eyes still focused on the road. “You gonna just keep repeating everything I’m sayin?”

“Uhh, yeah,” you replied, your eyes wide trying to prosses what he was saying to you. “It doesn’t make sense and you’re being so nonchalant about this.”

“How am I supposed to be?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, your hands flailing around. “Not like this! Just a minute ago I was freaking out wondering if I would ruin our friendship, or if there was even the slightest chance you liked me back... and you do. My brain can’t comprehend.” 

Fezco put his car in park and you realized you were in front of you house. “Well, comprehend, ma.”

You slouched back in your seat staring out at the road ahead of you taking it all in. Rue was right. “What do we do now?”

Fez reached over the center console and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Well, we could start with a date?”

You turned at looked at Fez, biting your lip to stop your smile from getting too big. “I’d like that,” you said, nodding your head.

“Cool,” Fez said smiling. 

“Cool,” you repeated grinning right back. 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. 

“You know what. I’m feeling way better now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah... don’t think I’m quite ready to go inside yet.”

“You got something in mind?”

“Not really,” you said, pausing to think for a second. “Just not ready to leave you yet,” you replied, squeezing his hand a little while rubbing your thumb back and forth on the back of his hand.

Fezco’s checks got incredibly hotter as he looked away from you avoiding your eyes. He let go of your hand and put his car back in drive beginning to drive off then said, "I think I know a place."

#fezco x reader #fezco one shot #fez x reader #fez fanfic #fezco #euphoria fan fiction #euphoria one shot #euphoria

[crazyk-imagine]

Obsession lies Beneath

Pairing: Dark!Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Characters: Dark!Benedict Bridgerton, Fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton

Warnings: Slight dark fic content, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, Benedict gas lighting reader, special tea use, Benedict getting high, reader is innocent, reader not your average dark fic reader, near the end of season 2, reader can be oblivious

Word Count: 2,016

Requested by: @flowercrowns-goodvibes probably something along the lines of him being obsessed with reader and wanting her to marry him, and basically trapping her with no other choice because he knows she’s the only one for him. maybe through arranged or forced marriage or kidnapping

A/N: This is my first dark fic so if it's kind of off or not a normal dark fic, yk why

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After taking the drug infused tea, he got addicted and couldn't do anything else to calm himself other than create terrible art and then came you.

He had no idea what to do then, it felt like there was nothing he could do but then there you were, and he was hooked (in more ways than one).

It was the latest season for young, eligible ladies to do their best at finding a man to call husband and, from his dear sister, he hears you have no one to call your own.

Although it may be troubling for your family, it does leave room for happiness within him, in his hazy mind.

There’s no one eligible enough to marry you, not when he plans on having you for himself (even if you don’t know it yet).

He closes his eyes, imagining you in more ways than one should. No one knows about this, the way he thinks of you.

How could they? They’d think he was insane and lock him up or banish him into his room with nothing to entertain him with.

Either way, a life without being able to see you is not a way he could live- survive even.

The first time he started thinking of you in a mature way, was an accident but once was enough for him to become addicted, a habit he can't break.

His brother couldn't have known what would become of him when he first offered the tea to him, it's not his fault.

Benedict doesn't remember how he got it since his brother was traveling but, as he sips his tea once more and it flows through his veins, he doesn't care.

His mind slows down the more he drinks and the more he drinks, the more he creates. He sets the cup down, staring at the page and sighs. He groans loudly to himself, "why isn't it, right?"

-

You follow Eloise, who happily drags you along with her.

After her minor falling out with Penelope, she didn't explain much about what happened nor did you ask, feeling it wasn’t your place to do so. She needed a friend and found- or re-found you.

You knew the family when you were little but moved away because your father had gotten a business proposal to work out of town and now that your family is settled and has gained a profitable fortune, you decided to come back to the one place you felt... at home.

Daphne, Eloise, and Anthony were the ones you spoke to the most during your youth, not speaking to the others as much and felt you could build a bond with them but didn't want to make them uncomfortable.

Benedict though, he noticed you; he always did. It became a habit over time, another thing he couldn't break, a nasty habit he knows some would say.

She enters with ease, not minding the noises coming from her brother, who disagrees with the sound of someone entering.

With the tea fully sated in his stomach, he stares at you for a little too long; not that you noticed.

You almost never do, not that he minded, it fills his obsession, and he enjoys the fact that you're a little too oblivious to his antics. You wander around the room and his skin feels like it's on fire.

Have you gotten more beautiful since the last time he saw you (two days ago).

You stand beside him and the scent of your perfume wafts through his nose, he closes his eyes, memorizing the scent to memory.

His eyes open, pupils dilating but no one notices as he offers a small smile. "Has something caught your eye?"

You turn your head to face him, a shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Sorry, I was curious about this one. You seem so," you pause and work on finding the right word. "Focused. I've always wanted to see an artist at work."

Could this be the sign he's been waiting for since you two grew into young adults? "Have you? Perhaps-"

"You've helped me enough, we're leaving now," Eloise pulls you alongside her. "We'll see you at dinner."

His chest heaves after he rolls his neck and turns to his left, reaching for his cup. This seems to be the only thing keeping him sated as he waits to see you again at dinner.

-

He enters and his eyes are on you, the seat beside you is open, giving him the opportunity to take it before anyone else can. His hands shake as he reaches for the utensils, freezing when your pinkies accidentally bump into one another.

He feels hot the longer he sits beside you. He makes small conversations when you initiate it but there's only so much, he can do without making him sound like a complete idiot.

God knows what would happen if he was to make a fool of himself in front of you, the person of his dreams.

His mind wanders and he's lost in thought with... you are laying on the couch beneath his window, showing just enough skin to make him lose his cool. He'd lean closer towards you and lean in, listening to every little noise that comes from you.

He would stare into your eyes until he's close enough to gather the courage and kiss your perfect lips. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to close his eyes at first, longing to see every twitch of your eyes, even though they're closed.

He'd study you every moment he could (and does). He owlishly blinks, finding you looking at him, a questioning look on your face. "I'm- I'm sorry?"

"Are you feeling alright?"

Oh, your caring nature, how his heart beats faster when it's directed at him. You're too kind to someone having such crude thoughts as he; fitting really.

He messes with the napkin in his lap. "I- I- I'm fine, believe me I am more than fine," he mutters the last part under his breath, not wanting you or anyone to overhear him share his thoughts.

-

He ponders the drawing, trying to figure out what's missing but can't and rips the page out of his sketchbook before crumpling it and tossing it across the room.

The ball of paper lands at your feet, you don't know what to do. "Is everything alright?" You ask.

His body tenses. "Are you spending the night?"

"Unexpectedly, the carriage broke, and repairs won't be able to start until tomorrow when there's more lighting." He nods, glancing down to find the cut on his hand from when- he discreetly wipes his hand before you can see it.

"Are you working on something else?" You step closer, inspecting it with intense interest, one Benedict could barely wrap his head around.

"Aren't I always?" He jokes.

You chuckle at the joke because it's true, lately he hasn't been able to focus, nor has he been able to continue with one project. "Are you drawing a model?" You tilt your head, trying to figure out the position you're seeing. "Is that- you draw nude models?"

He nods, "I do, it's one of the important ways an artist can capture the human body on paper." In his haze, he sees the way your eyes trail back to the page even as flustered as you are, you're human and seeing something like this, his art; it exhilarates him. "Would you want to be my model?"

Your head snaps over to him. "Me?" You stutter, "I don't- I don't think that'd be such a good idea. I'm not- I'm not the model type."

"Nonsense," he shakes his head. "You are the perfect model."

"I don't think this is an appropriate topic we should be discussing, Mr. Bridgerton-"

He grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. "It's a harmless conversation between adults, is it not?"

He takes in your figure, then your dress, and your hair; all of it, reminding him of a little lamb (one who's wandered into the wrong den). A little lamb away from its family, all alone and waiting for its hunter to snatch it up.

"I suppose but-"

"I mean, it's not as if you'd actually be willing to model for me. It's just a conversation about art." Said the lion to guide the prey into his trap, he thought to himself.

"That- that's true."

Are you truly thinking about offering to accept and be his model? Even when you know if someone were to find out, your reputation would be ruined?

"I want to do it."

"Do you?" A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lips. And the lion caught the lamb. "Why don't we start now?"

You hesitate, fiddling with the sides of your dress. "I don't know. I don't think now is the-"

"If we do it now, no one will know. Everyone in the house is asleep and if they aren't, they know better than to disturb me when I'm working."

"I," you gulp before nodding. "Okay."

Maybe he's right, now would be a more idle time to practice.

"Okay?"

You give him a reassuring look.

-

He turns, the chesire cat like smile never fading even as he adjusts you to the position, he knows will come out perfectly.

You're nervous, letting him see you this way, so exposed, your heart beats at a mile a minute. You don't know whether to let him continue or leave while your morals are (barely) intact.

He glances up; the charcoal dancing across the paper brings you out of your thoughts. "Can I move? My arm is hurting."

"Not yet."

"But-"

"I said, not yet!" He elevates his voice.

You gulp, not saying anything further, deciding it's best not to aggravate him further.

After a while and 2 candles later, a satisfied sigh escapes him.

Your shoulders feel lighter, knowing that he's happy with his latest creation.

"You," he starts off.

You open your eyes, turning your head to face him, seeing his proud expression.

"You are my best model, I- you are my new muse."

You start pushing yourself up.

The smile falls from his face, "what are you doing?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "I'm getting up because we're done," you say even though it sounds more like a question the longer you stare at him and take it his expression.

"We have more to do," he sets his sketch book onto the table beside him. "You are the inspiration I have been looking for. You are the reason I will thrive in school, even if my brother paid for my seat."

He kneels beside you, "we will be well-known because of your beauty," he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "And my skills." He switches between looking into one eye and then the other. "But I can see tonight was a lot, you're tired and should get some sleep."

You don't say another word as you sit up, holding the blanket close to you.

-

He helps you with your corset, making you feel as though you did something wrong.

You shouldn't have done this.

He wraps his arms around your waist. "Get some rest, we'll get a head start tomorrow."

"I- I don't-"

"Don't tell me no, please. I can't do this without you," he spins you around to face him. "I wouldn’t survive without your help. You are the reason I can create again. Please don't leave me alone."

How can you say no when he stares at you like that?

You can't tell him no and then come to the house and pretend as if you didn't do this, pretend as if everything is okay.

"What if someone found out about you modeling for me tonight? What would happen to your family?"

You furrow your brows, suddenly your thoughts spiral back to the beginning of tonight and it's something you shouldn't have agreed to but it's too late to back out; you're too involved and he's the only one who can save you.

You no longer feel at home.

-

Tag list

@readingwithsass

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfic #crazyk-imagine #dark bridgerton fic #dark bridgerton fanfic #dark bridgerton fanfiction #dark benedict bridgerton

[fandomxpreferences]

Gotta Get Lost In the Sauce

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader (over 18)

TW:drinking and drugs, drunk shenanigans, throwing up, fluff

Summary: You've always been a party animal, but luckily JJ knows exactly how to take care of you.

Word Count:2.2k

There are a lot of reasons JJ loves you. He loves your smile, he loves your laugh, he loves your quick wit, and how you can befriend anyone just by being your radiant self. At the top of the list though, is that you're the life of the party. 

You're always on board with his dumb ideas and you're always the last one to call it a night. He's lost track of how many times he's had to practically force you to bed as you try to give everyone a second wind with more shots under the pitch-black sky. 

Usually, he's right there with you. The two of you are kindred spirits, and more often than not it gets you into trouble. The rest of the group has carried the two of you inside as you cling to each other's sides giggling about an inside joke more times than what could possibly be considered normal. 

Tonight, however, JJ has been nursing the same beer over the span of several hours. He knew it was going to be a night that he's on duty when you challenged John B to a drinking competition. The two of you have been matching each other shot for shot since sunset, and it's safe to say you're losing. 

You've got an impressive alcohol tolerance, but it's no match for the Routledge. JJ's been keeping an eye on you the entire time, ready to step in when you inevitably get careless. You're known for dancing on tables and running off into the night, so it's no surprise when he sees you performing your own concert on top of a log as the entire boneyard watches. 

He sees your footing get closer to the edge before you realize and he's out of his chair moving toward you at lightning speed. He gets there just in time, catching you in his arms as you stumble back and hurtle toward the ground. 

It takes you a second to get your bearings, but once you realize whose arms are around your waist you give him a sloppy grin. He returns it with ease, happy to see you so carefree. Most men would be jealous of everybody's eyes on their girl, but not JJ. 

He's proud that you're his and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you're always leaving with him. He considers that a win in his book. 

He takes in the glassy look in your eyes and ruffled hair, feeling his heart swell with love. Every day he swears he can't possibly love you any more than he already does, and every day he's proven wrong. 

"Hey, cupcake." 

His dimples peek out as he beams down at you, and it makes your chest fuzzy. Part of your intoxication is from the near-lethal amount of Tequila you've consumed along with a joint, but most of it is just JJ. 

You're always riding a high when he's around, even when you're stone-cold sober. 

"Hey, J."

Your voice is sweet and slow like molasses, the register an octave deeper than usual thanks to your inebriated state. JJ always loves your voice, but something about it when you're like this turns his insides to goo.

"You having fun?"

You're standing up straight now, his strong hands holding your waist firmly to keep you steady. You blink up at him through your lashes in a way that drives him mad and nod your head.

"The most fun ever." 

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a second so he can inhale your coconut shampoo and addicting perfume. 

"Good, baby."

You're about to respond when John B's slurred voice rings out behind you. 

"Yo, Y/n! You gonna come do this shot, or are you tapping out?" 

Your eyes light up as you break free from your boyfriend's hold, and you stumble over. JJ sighs as he watches your retreating figure, worry growing in his gut for your safety. He's never been one to cut you off, but tonight is shaping up to be a first. 

You make grabby hands for the shot glass and JB hands it to you, spilling some on the table in the process. You gasp dramatically as if he's just committed a crime before bending down and licking up the clear liquid. 

JJ's standing beside you now, his eyebrows raised in pure amusement as he looks on at the scene in front of him. 

"You can't go around wasting tequila, Jb! It's the nectar of the Gods!"

He doesn't say anything as he holds up his shot glass, and you clink the drinks together before tapping them on the table and throwing them back. The liquor slides down your throat with practiced ease, nearly tasting like water this far into the night. 

"JJ come dance with me!"

You hand laces with his, pulling him to the makeshift dance area as he laughs behind you. The two of you start having a dance battle, giggling loudly without a care in the world.

His arms reach out to pull you into him and he takes a moment to admire your beauty as he stares down at you. His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, and he nearly combusts at the way your body melts into his touch.

He pull back after a moment, the two of you continuing with your horrendous dance moves that look like something out of an 80's blockbuster film.

You stop and look around, taking in the raging kegger that's still in full swing. There's a pungent aroma of beer and drugs swirling around and you close your eyes to soak it in. This is your favorite way to waste time, and the pure joy nearly brings you to tears. 

Before it can fully sink in though, your eyes shoot open as an idea pops into your head. JJ recognizes the mischief twinkling in your eyes immediately and shakes his head. 

"Don't even think about it."

His words fall on deaf ears as you race forward, your feet kicking up sand as you sprint away. 

"God damn it."

He sets his beer down and takes off after you, doing his best to catch up. You're surprisingly fast given your state of being, and he mentally swears when he loses sight of you. Last time this happened he was by your side and it was the pogues chasing the two of you down. 

You'd both managed to escape that night and didn't show back up until the next morning. The thought of you out here all night alone spurs him on, and his legs move impossibly faster. He catches a glimpse of your shadow and shakes his head when he realizes what you're doing. 

"Fucks sake." He mutters to himself, though there's no anger or annoyance in his tone. 

He's able to catch up now that you've slowed to a jog, and he laughs when he sees you stripping down to just a bra and underwear. 

"Baby, what are you doing?" 

His voice startles you and he bites his lip to stop from chuckling when you nearly jump out of your skin. 

"Schwimming."

If your pronunciation is anything to go by, you most definitely should not be in the ocean alone right now. As much as JJ wants to be irritated at your erratic behavior, it does nothing but make his adoration grow. 

He watches you plunge into the waves and thinks fuck it before stripping down to join you. The two of you stay there for God knows how long, just laughing and playing in the salty water as the bonfire flickers in the distance. 

Eventually, you start to shiver and JJ ushers you back onto the beach. He wraps you up in his embrace, happy to share his body heat with you. You're thankful that you were wearing surf shorts and one of JJ's tops tonight because otherwise, you don't think you'd be able to pull your clothes back over your damp skin. 

Once the two of you are dressed, you make your way back to the party with wet hair and bruised lips. John B motions you over for another shot and JJ shoots him a glare. The man just shrugs with a lopsided grin and you continue toward him. 

He moves to hand you the glass and you hold up one finger while starting toward a bush. 

"Where are you going?" 

Confusion laces his voice and you stop for a second to answer. 

"Just give me a second to puke and rally, then you're going to lose this bet."

JJ takes a step forward and grabs your hand before you can move and starts guiding you up toward his bike. 

"Okay, I think that's enough for tonight."

He almost caves when that adorable pout covers your features, but he knows you're already in for a world of hurt. 

"But I'm not done yet. Come on, J! The night s'young and if I leave I'll forfeit the bet!"

Your pleading does nothing to help and JJ shakes his head. 

"It's almost two am, baby. Your night is over, come on."

You cross your arms but do as he says, grumbling under your breath the entire walk. 

"When did you become an old man?"

He ignores the small dig and continues supporting your weight as the exhaustion starts to consume you. This always happens; your energy starts to dissipate once you're away from the party environment and it's only a matter of time before you crash. 

He holds out the helmet he reserves just for you silently, waving it around when you don't take it. You finally slip it on your head against your wishes, and he helps you onto his bike before climbing on. 

You're stubborn, refusing to hold onto him and instead keeping your hands planted firmly on your thighs. He smirks to himself and revs the engine, causing the bike to lurch forward. It forces your body to slam into him and your arms instinctively lock around his waist. 

"That's better. Hold on, cupcake. The last thing I need is for you to fall off."

You scrunch up your nose when you realize what he did, but keep your hands laced together on his abs as he speeds off toward the chateau. He makes it there in record time, even with being mindful of his turns so as not to make you sick. 

He steps off the bike first before lifting you off, your body nearly limp as you fight sleep. However, the movement seems to wake you up and you rip the helmet off before bending over. 

Your stomach lurches as you empty your stomach, groans emitting from your throat. Every time you think it's over, another wave hits you and you're left dry heaving as every muscle in your body aches. 

JJ never leaves your side, rubbing your back in soothing motions as he holds your hair back. 

"It's okay, baby. Let it run its course, fighting it makes it worse."

By the time your stomach settles, tears are flowing down your cheeks as you gasp for air. JJ gives you a second to catch your breath before picking you up to carry you inside. 

He knows that whatever energy you had left was just sucked out of you, and he's proven right when your body flops against him like a rag doll. 

His feet carry the two of you inside, going straight to the bathroom. He sets you on the counter despite your protests and starts meandering around to grab what he needs. He goes through your skincare routine with ease, having memorized it after countless nights and mornings watching you from the shower. 

Your eyes have drifted close as your body sways from side to side, and JJ knows you're practically useless at the moment. His hand reaches around you to grab your toothbrush and toothpaste before tapping your chin with his forefinger. 

"Open."

You groan in response and his finger pulls your bottom lip until you comply, and he starts brushing your teeth. Your tongue darts around your mouth and JJ laughs. 

"Stop trying to lick the toothbrush, you weirdo. Here, spit."

He holds a cup to your mouth and you do as he says before he turns on his heel.

"Stay right there."

He walks off to find you a fresh pair of clothes but he's interrupted when he hears a thump. He drops the sweatpants in his grip and bolts in your direction, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees you. You've managed to fall to the floor, now crawling lazily in the direction of the spare bedroom. 

"Oh, baby. Come here." 

He bends down and scoops you up, carrying you the rest of the way. When he sets you on the bed, you flop back and he smiles. 

"You're a mess. Can you change?" 

Your head shakes from side to side dramatically and his cheeks start to hurt from the wide grin he's been wearing for the past hour. 

"No."

He crawls onto the bed and strips you down, careful not to jostle you too much as he slips his t-shirt over your head. The last thing he wants right now is for you to get sick again. 

You don't give him a chance to put pants on you before clambering up the bed and sprawling out under the covers. It's not the most graceful with flailing limbs and jerky movements, but it does the job. 

He changes into the sweatpants he originally grabbed for you and climbs in next to you. You instantly gravitate toward his body, and he kisses your head when you curl up around him like a koala. 

Your nose nuzzles into his neck, and he thinks his heart might just explode. 

"G'night. Luh you." You hum, and he runs his fingers through your hair the way you love. 

"Goodnight, Y/N. Love you too."

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx

[pursuitseternal]

Chapter 2: Jealousy, Lust, and Satsifaction in “A Night with the Ascendant:”

Ascendant Astarion x Spawn (Lumina) | E | 7.3 K of galas and smut

Summary: a tenday in his bed, a tenday bereft of his company in his absence, Lumina’s own plotting takes shape. With the perfect opportunity at hand, she tries to get under the Vampire Ascendant’s skin and steal his attention. Little does she know just how much she already has of it…

CW:(Spawn) harem dynamics, jealousy, manipulation, obsession, praise and dirty talk, A!Astarion being over the top possessive and sexy, possessive marking smut, suspicious drinks (magic, not noncon, I promise), “you’re special”

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥

Blessed and blissed out for a tenday, that was Lumina’s life of late. Days spent feeding on the fresh kills of venison and cow brought to her cell by his armored guards, days spent sleeping off the burning ache he caused each and every night. There was no part of her little body he hadn’t sought pleasure from, no hole left unfucked, even those too tight to let him in without ample coaxing and touch and praise.

There was no need for compelling, those dark tendrils of his powers all but mute in her mind. Oh, she was his—obedient and pliant and eager. And she had been rewarded every night for such a stellar performance. He only used that connection as her master to summon her from her room. And each time, that Tiefling consort glared holes in the back of her head as she swayed her hips up the stairs.

Morana… she hadn’t been vicious. But she certainly wasn’t nice. She had seen this pattern a hundred times, some with Spawn that had since met their end. The obsession, the allure, the unbreakable infatuation from the newly born until he tired of them.

Tired of them all.

It was only a matter of time, she had mocked today… and then he would tire of those flexible and firm legs of her, of her human flesh and bright hair. He would tire of lending her books as payment for her unimaginative pleasure, the first consort had sneered.

But Lumina let it roll off her shoulders, washing it away in the baths she took each day now. A luxury and necessity to finally clean off all the dried stick of his cum from almost every crack and crevice of her body. He had sent her oils and soaps that smelled of him… it was addictive. Enticing. Every day, she could smell him in her nose, his sweat and perfume, his cum and musk. Made her mouth water for the chance to let her prove her ever growing affections for him.

Affections… she knew better than to set her heart on anyone. Yet, she couldn’t fight that gnawing of her gut watching time pass, reading her books. It should be about now… any moment and his power should tingle up her spine, the wave of his call for her like breath down her neck…

But it never came. She dug her nails into her thigh, where her flesh slipped from beneath the high dart of a slit in her skirt.

No.

Instead, she heard another gate unlock, another door swing with a creak on its hinges. Bolting from her bed, she had to see who he had chosen in her stead. Through her gilded bars, she watched that swishing dark blue tail of Morana wave at her. A flash of dark crimson in her dark eyes, and the Tiefling threw her a wicked, victorious smirk before treading up those stone stairs.

“Gods dammit,” Lumina cursed, her undead skin flushing hot with jealousy and rage. She wailed that book toward her bed, loving the distraction of how it smacked into the wall before falling unceremoniously into her bed. Pinpricks stung her eyes, tongue dry in her mouth. She curled into the corner of her bed, knees hugged into her chest.

Making her feel so empty, in her body and her heart.

She stayed like that, tears burning as they seeped out hot and angry, her face hidden in her hands. Her nails clawing into her cheeks, her neck, her knees, wherever just so she could feel physical pain to lessen the ache of envy in her gut.

It wasn’t terribly long, she thought, before that telltale step of feet on the stairs meant someone returned. She couldn’t look, didn’t want to see a flush on Morana’s dark cheeks or smell his spend on her skin. But there she was, stopped in front of her cell, her skirt parted around that slit to barely show the inside of her thigh.

His scent caught her nose, and she wanted to hurl. Even as her stomach gnawed empty. She carried his scent.

“Hmmm, little Lumina, you poor thing. You’ll learn,” Morana tutted her tongue, swaying on her legs enough to let the slick sound between them reach her ears. “He sends his warmest regards, however, but he will be away for a tenday now… And he wanted me to begin overseeing the preparation for his return, when we will be joined by several of his.. guests. He will need his best consorts and concubines ready to… entertain them all.”

“I believe I understand full well,” Lumina replied with a flat tone, ignoring the visions of clawing her fingers around that infernal dark neck.

“Lord Astarion wanted me to give you a little something,” those dark red eyes gleamed, her bluish lips smirking to reveal her own set of fangs. She ran her fingers up her thigh, gathering still-wet slick from her dark blue skin. Holding them out, she crooked her other fingers at the little blonde wretch who had lost her heart.

It was too easy, watching that little human tremble and sniff as she could scent his cum on her fingertips. “Open, he said to give you one last taste of him before he had to leave. A shame he couldn’t bid you farewell himself, he said, but he wanted some of the vintage he has savored the longest before his journey, me of course.”

Lumina gritted her teeth, it smelled so good, he smelled so good. She wanted it, licking her lips as she came closer and closer. It happened so close, so involuntarily, the way she licked those fingers clean with one hard suck.

“Oh, I can start to see why he’s liked you for so many nights…” Morana’s deep voice sliced through her flittering fantasy. “You’ll be part of this soirée, but you’ll have such a small role, fucked over some table by some rich, plump Patriar while I entertain his Lordship from the comfort of his throne as he barely glances at you from across the room…”

Lumina hissed, fangs bared before she turned and skulked back to her bed.

Morana flashed a smile, heading back to her room to clean herself. But the second her back turned on the little welp, she scowled. She had managed to obey… in her own way around his compelling magic. She slipped off her gown, conjuring and warming water in her bath in an instant with her limited magic. Letting the heat thaw that bitter shard in her soul at what had happened.

It shouldn’t have ended this way, not with how it had begun just like old times. His pride on his face as he sipped his last glass of wine, waiting for his carriage to be readied. He had patted his lap, a seat she had so silkenly sidled up to take. Her hand teasing him through that crushed velvet of his breeches. Only to find him soft and unaroused. She pouted, tracing her fingers over its tip, her tail swishing before wrapping itself nicely around his strong leg.

She watched him bristle at its pressure, a chilled smirk on his lips as he spoke about his trip, his return.

His instructions were clear and concise, his expectations for his return were the usual… and then he kissed her. Biting into her neck as she always offered…. Only to have him suck her blood and spit it across the floor the next moment.

It was her mistake next that turned the tide, her little sultry quip about how he must have lost a taste for the spice of Tiefling, preferring that bland milk of a human he had been tasting so often of late…

Morana sank deeper into the water… She shouldn’t have provoked him, shouldn’t have opened her mouth for anything but his cock.

No, instead she had to be insolent and find herself on her knees between his own, working his half-softened dick as he had to close his eyes and clutch the arms of his chair. Every trick she knew and he loved failed. Every suck and stroke of her mouth, every tug and grab of his balls, every push of her finger even into his ass… none of it made him hard as long as he stared at her or grabbed her black and arching horns.

No, he had to shut his eyes and grit his teeth, refraining from touching her anywhere to make him fully erect. It took her standing before him, his eyes still closed, as they pleasured themselves for him to finally have the right… enticement, he had said.

It took the wet and beating sounds of their own touching for him to finally come, coating her mound and thighs in his seed. And only then did she think she heard him sigh that most hated name from his lips. Lumina.

Once he opened his eyes, his gaze glinted with unsatisfied hunger and scorn. Looking her up and down, he sneered to hear the carriage rumbling up the drive. His voice had been like ice, exacting and sharp, ordering her to take his precious seed and make his Little Light suck it from her fingers. So at the very least she could have one last taste of him before he left… since his carriage was ready and waiting.

Lord Astarion had ordered her back to the cellars with a brush of his mind, one last reminder that she should not fail him again, that Morana had other duties to perform, an evening’s work of entertainment to flawlessly execute if she wished to be spared his wrath.

Perhaps his wrath would be better than his neglect, his loss of affection. But Morana rolled her shoulders and sank into the waters up to her horns. She had nothing but time.

But then again, so did they all.

A tenday was nothing for an immortal, but for Lumina, having to wander around the palace to avoid that arrogant Tiefling, not to mention the others, time dragged at a glacial pace. She kept herself to the gardens and her room when they were allowed to wander the Palace at night in his absence, but what she really wanted was him.

She would creep to the door of his rooms, his study, just to smell him. It was enough to ground her until she reached for her last book from him, turning back to page one to begin reading it all over again. This night, she fell asleep with her nose pressed into the pages, dreaming she could smell him, her master, his skin under her touch, his taste of salt and bitter and musk on her tongue… if only she could awaken at his side again, feel his fingers part her thighs again…

But instead it was Morana’s deep laughter that peeled into her rooms from the hall. “Time to perform, Little Light. The Master arrives tonight, so you’d best prepare yourself for his guests.” Every word panged her with hope and despair in equal measure.

Her wardrobe swung open under her shaking hand, a few deep cut, extravagant gowns waiting to be chosen. Her pale fingers settled on one, thin and black, one that would make her skin glow like pearls and her hair the deep lively golden of straw. Touch dancing over the gossamer and silks, she smiled, a plan to make herself simply irresistible forming in her lust-drunk mind. He would regret leaving her, if it was the last thing he lived to regret.

Once the doors were opened, the handful of consorts left to wander up to the hall, Lumina gave one last smoothing of her raven black skirt. And she smiled. Dressed for seduction. Dressed for revenge.

She filed in line, following in Morana’s wake and the handful of the rest of the spawn. Drawing short of the Ballroom’s grand door, Morana held up her hand. “The Master will want us to mingle, to entertain and sparkle and delight. We may feed from any of the guests, so long as they ask. Do not overindulge, do not divulge any of the Master’s secrets or habits, do not fraternize with the guests, or you will be punished. And remember, he is watching. He is always watching.”

Lumina locked eyes with the Tiefling the moment she looked her way. All her adamantine hardness steeled her over. She was ready. Whatever was to come. It wouldn’t be worse than her life before, she knew that much. Even if it was just the internal pleasure she would get from making him watch her perform for someone else…. She would make him pay.

But the second the doors opened for them to slip inside… she lost her breath. He was… stunning. Crimson gaze cut through the crowd, half-lidded and scanning each one of his spawn as they stepped in on preternatural silent feet. He reclined in that grand chair at the end of the ballroom, the likes of which she had never seen, wrought iron and wine red, winged and imposing. But not enough to take the eye off its occupant. Not when he was dressed so elegantly in gold stitching and jewels in his own midnight black tunic and trousers. Not when his pale face leered with distant promises of pleasure on his sharp features, his eyes ringed with kohl and ears bejeweled with shining hoops of purest gold. Those long, elegant fingers that had ruined her for all others’ touch teased around the edge of his goblet, swirling it lazily as he separated his crossed legs.

Letting them spread wide, as wide as that massive chair.

The second his eyes moved from the spawn before her to rest on her face, she felt that swirling tendril of his power in her mind. A caress, a beckoning, but not one that compelled her to his presence. She was sure for a moment she felt his touch raking her body from the inside of her mind but for as sudden as it possessed her, it was just as fleeting and gone. Then his eyes moved on to the next spawn behind her, and those sweet tendrils of desire dissipated.

Lumina let her breath go, her lungs burned even though she didn’t need the air anymore. It was more the burning of her cheeks as his eyes left her face. The fire of her need to prove herself. It was a good start at the very least, she smiled, wide and brilliant enough for her fangs to catch the candelabra light. Shoulders back, hips sauntering, breasts on full display, she wasn’t surprised as the mass of slightly tipsy Patriars approached the circle of spawn. Nor was she surprised when many of them sought her hand to kiss in greeting.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Morana sway her way up the ballroom towards their Master, bending to her knees before him, tail twitching from the slit of her sparkling sapphire gown. She waited at his feet the perfect paragon of obedience, but his chest only rose and fell faster, and she was sure if she looked, his eyes would be on her. Not the Tiefling at his feet. She gave a hearty, musical laugh at some comment about how she glowed once they all learned her name. Her circle of suitors. She could practically hear the metal in his hand bending as he gripped his goblet tighter.

For her, she may as well have been in a nearly empty room. The rest of the spawn had dispersed, already sequestered into corners or window casements for their guests' pleasures or to feed. She smelled blood in the air. Perhaps at the worst, she could drink tonight right from a vein.

At least the music was merry, and Lumina could sway to its beat as she crossed to the table of refreshments. The chatter of all the male guests faded from her ear the moment she heard heavy, measured steps approach from behind her.

“You’ll find the red to be to your liking, Little Light…”

She chuckled, reaching for the silver decanter of the wine he mentioned. “Thank you my lord, for your suggestion…” Throwing an easy smile over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of just how close Astarion hovered behind her. Careful not to touch. Closer enough for his breath to wash down the deep v cut of her back. “You are always so… attentive… to my needs.”

He gave a little grunt of approval, taking the empty chalice from her cool hand. Filling it himself with the decanter, he raised it first to his lips. She held her breath, those wine-red eyes of his never leaving her face. Even as he swallowed loudly, she hid the little shudder that ran through her body and straight to her sex. “You had better ready yourself for the night to come… who knows whose blood you may consume or whose cock will end up buried inside you sweet slickness, my Light…” He handed her the half-drunk cup, scanning her every expression as she took it from his hands.

As she let her cool digits sweep tenderly over his in the process.

“If I’m lucky,” she flashed him that innocent and taunting smile in reply, “both will fill my belly before the night is through.” Head tilted, gaze lowered, she swept her skits to one side in a deferential curtsy, one that slid the slit of her skirt full up her thigh. Giving him a peak of the nothingness she wore beneath. Rising back before him, she met those half-lidded crimson eyes with a confident, impertinent smile. “I hope you enjoyed your journeys, my lord. It was ever so… uneventful without you. Peaceful, even.”

Before she could raise that cup to take the slightest fraction of a sip, his hand reached to close around her throat. Leaning in, he was all fangs and hot breath and hissing voice as he rasped against her lips. “Do not forget your places my sweet, precious, Little Light. I am not here for your peace,” he snarled. A ravenous, claiming, biting kiss consumed her lips and made her twitch in surprise and pain before he released her with the smallest of shoves. “You, Lumina, are here for my pleasure. And tonight, I get to decide just what that may entail and with whom you may seek it.”

And just as swiftly as he had appeared behind her, he quickly turned and made his way back through the crowds. Lost in the sea of bodies.

She stood trembling for a moment, lost herself somewhere between the victory of antagonizing him as he had her for a tenday, and the defeat of feeling his wrath. Of having him leave her body after barely touching her. Setting her cup back down on the table, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to take a drink without spilling it from how much her hand shook.

And then she felt a tug on her mind, an order from him to move to the library to meet her guest for the night.

Lumina grimaced, watching as all of the other spawn yet accounted for in the shadows began to move through the room, their patrons for pleasuring assigned too. Her head swam, even as she grit her teeth and locked her stare with Morana. That fucking Tiefling, standing at the side of his empty chair, tail twitching languorously, lips sipping from an even more elegant chalice than the one she had set aside.

Her feet moved of their own will, out the door and down the halls that brimmed with flickering light. Licking her lips, she set her heart on at least draining whatever plump patron was behind the thick oaken doors before her. She kept her gaze on her pale hands, steadying them as she turned to shut the door, her back to the interior of the room.

The scent of books, the crackle of fire in the grate, the distant whine of the music from the ballroom down the hall… it would be positively romantic, picturesque even, if only it wouldn’t be some unknown wealthy patron waiting behind her back. If only…

“Why the hesitation, my Little Light? Not in haste to please your Master?”

“M-Master?” Lumina spun on her heel, almost tangled in her slitted skirts to see him. Untroubled, lazy, and amused, he leaned against the rounded arm of the chaise longue. The perfect picture of the Sunwalking Regent—the scarlet of the chair was striking under the sable of his clothing, the firelight catching the jewels in his tunic, making his crimson eyes illuminated.

Licking his lips, she felt those tendrils tickle down her spine before releasing her. “Like I said… you were made for my pleasure, and you are mine to command, mine to decide with whom you will find your own pleasure.”

She had drawn so near, he grabbed into her skirts, inserting his fingers up her thigh already.

“And you will only be mine now…”

His touch was lightning itself, jolts of bliss wracking her as he slipped those two skilled fingers right for her sex.

Lumina bucked, but he only gave her a few shallow strokes before he pulled out. Swallowing her hiss, biting her lip, she couldn’t have felt more desired.

“Now, on your knees darling….” his voice rumbled as his hands pulled her down to the thick carpet, plush, elegant and bloodied in color. The same shade of his eyes as they glowed.

“Yes, my Master,” she breathed, obeying in an instant.

“Those eyes of yours glimmer with surprise, my Light,” he growled as he cupped her chin and dragged her closer until there was no space left between their bodies. “Didn’t think I would pick you, did you?”

“No,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on his belly, on the way the jewels sparkled with his every ragged breath.

“You are wise to be honest with me, little spawn. So I will be honest in return. I didn’t think so either,” he jerked her chin, making those eyes meet his, making her lips part in shock and a hint of pain. “It’s not what’s done on these nights, you know. It’s not how it has been for over a century…. But for you, Little Light, nothing is as it has been.” Eyes narrowed, his gaze flicked to her neck as he twisted her head in his grasp. “I am equally surprised.”

Lumina gave some half-hearted start to a reply, one he just swallowed with a kiss at any rate. Demanding, his kiss consumed her—all tongue down her throat to taste her in place of his fangs to devour her this time. “Trust me,” his voice like gravel in his mouth, “I was far from happy about it. You’ve really caused turmoil in my little kingdom. So much so, I’ve broken all my own rules just for you.” His brows furrowed, irritation coloring his voice. “I reject my oldest plaything for you, you unman me so much, I couldn’t even get hard in her presence before my departure…” He looked at her wide eyes, the memory obviously fresh yet in her mind. “I thought of you as I pleasured myself. I was angered by the hold you have on me, irritated that you have so much control over me, my Little Light. And yet…”

He ached. He burned. He pulled her dress right off her shoulders, the gossamer, light as spider silk, giving way with such ease. Snatching her hands, he slammed them on his chest, scratching them on the clasps of his ornate jacket. “Hurry,” he snarled into his kiss, giving that pouting bottom lip and bite just for good measure. “I know you have been burning up for me, Lumina, in my absence. I could feel it, my eager, ambitious, little spawn.”

A sigh passed her lips, her body betraying any lingering vestige of anger as it melted into him. Clasp by clasp, button by button she stripped him quickly and deliberately. While he made rough, tearing work of her dress, leaving it in shambles to puddle around her knees.

“Blazing for you, my Master,” she moaned into his kiss, his hands lifting her little frame by her waist. Nails dug into her flesh, making her clamber into his lap, making her legs wrap around his hips until her folds stretched and soaked him. It was a matter of moments for him to free his cock and bury it inside her again. A matter of bites and blood and scratching and bucking until she rode every vicious thrust he made into her.

She was a vision, the same he had kept in his mind all those days away. The firelight caught in the golden of her hair, her eyes glimmering as they fluttered open and shut in her own growing bliss. Her pale fresh stretched for him, so tight and wet instantly, her rounded hips bucking with smooth grace, her breasts swinging and swaying as she let him have her.

So soon, she unraveled, walls clutching him in waves, golden hair spilled back as she arched and twitched in orgasm on his thighs. Warm hands wrapped her hair around his fist, pulling her back hard enough to make her whimper. Fangs raked their icy points down her neck, the cold brush making her blistering orgasm flame somehow higher. “Please,” she moaned. “Please bite me…”

“Of course,” he nipped at her skin with smooth blunted edged teeth first. “You are mine after all, to do with as I wish.” Hard and colder than she remembered it, he sliced into her neck, the sound of skin giving way like the piercing of an apple’s flesh. She hissed and writhed, her own fangs bared as the pain swelled over her pleasure.

The moment his mouth flooded with her blood, he shoved himself to the hilt over and over again, letting his seed spill inside, letting her milk his every twitching spurt. Mouth filling even as he emptied himself.

Glorious. More than he had longed for in his absence.

He had stilled inside her, lips sucking and drinking down her blood. But that cock pulsed with each swallow, pushing at the end of her channel with how he just held her in his lap. The warm pad of his tongue swirled over those wounds, swipe and swipe licking her clean until it ceased to flow. “Such a good… delicious…” he licked again, “little spawn you are…”

Through her hazy vision, she smiled at him, the sight of her blood on his chin making her stomach gnaw and growl with her own hunger. A playful cock of his head, his crimson eyes scanned her in the flickering light, one hand pushing on her belly until it rumbled against his touch.

Until she could feel him pressed against her stomach from the inside and the outside. “I know you’re hungry, my pet,” he consoled her, that other set of skilled fingers teasing in her hair so softly, straying through the fluttering loose ends at her temple. “If only there was something I could offer you to… sate your hunger, Little Light…”

“Is there?” she squirmed on his lap, the slick between them still sticky with every movement.

A single brow arched, his expression one of inscrutability and lust. “There are many things I could offer you….” he purred. “I thought about it many a time when I was away.” His lips brushed her ear, his hands still lazily tracing over the pinpricked skin of her belly and teasing through her hair.

Lumina practically curled into his chest, the sweetest of simpers on lips. Glowing. She was glowing at him. Not a more aptly named being in all Faerûn, he decided right then and there. “You did?” she bubbled over, fangs showing in her smile.

“Mmm,” he hummed, another little shift inside her walls just for emphasis. “Many a time. And in all sorts of fantastic positions, the likes of which you have never known and will never try with another being… so long as you walk in this realm.” She would be blushing, he was sure, if she had any living blood in her right now. That would be… quite the sight. Her cheeks and lips and nipples and cunt rosy from blood and his constant stimulation. Astarion licked his lips just at the mere passing thought. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” his voice rumbled as he asked. “To be mine… forever?”

“Is that not already what you have made me, Master?” she purred her reply. “For I am so very grateful you did.” She turned her face to hide her bashful grin against her shoulder. An error he corrected with a sweep of his hand back around her chin. “Not many go from mortal to undying, from raw hands and rags to swollen lips and fine gowns.” Her eyes darted to the side, hiding the flicker of ghosts behind that bright gaze. “Not many know what makes being a… spawn… better than being someone’s slave.”

He paused, scanning her face—so earnest, so eager. It made something inside his heart… hurt again. Something that hadn’t for almost two centuries. Not since... He shook his head.

“No need for anything like that from the past now,” he flashed her that sultry smirk. “I ask you of your future, one where I might provide for your every hunger, one where I would expect you to do the same for me, my Light.” He shifted her on his thighs, a hand absently stroking into those golden locks. “That is what you want, isn’t it?” Mouth brushed hers, his lips teased over her own as he lowered his voice into a rasp. “I am what you want, aren’t I?”

“More than anything,” she sighed. A hand stroked against his cheek, trying to pull him into her kiss. “Being apart from you was torture, my master.”

“More torture than the kind you enjoy at my fingertips, little spawn?” he slipped his hand between her thighs, catching that hardened nub of hers where it strained.

Lumina sighed, leaning away to allow him a little more room, booking her hands behind his neck as she arched in pleasure. His smirk at her reaction was feral, wicked, and possessive. But just as he could feel her reawaken for more, he slipped his touch away, pushing her off his lap, off his slightly softened cock. “Allow me to offer you amends, then, for the torture you had to endure to be parted from my side, my darling.” He swept his arm to the side, the columns of bookcases darkened the edges of the room, embossed titles and oiled leather spines glimmered through the shadows. “My library is yours. Choose as many as you like, come when you wish…”

He stood with a grunt, managing to lace his breeches back up absentmindedly as he watched her face melt into one of awe and wonder and adoration for him.

Making something in his chest grow painfully hard.

Ignoring that sensation, he reached for the pewter chalice on the side table before crossing over to where she had begun to peruse his collection.

Her nostrils flared at the scent. “For me?” She took the chalice in her hands, the metal still warm from the fresh source of the contents within. “A little blood to keep me going for you, is that right, Master?”

“Let’s just say,” he smiled, lifting her face, the pads of his fingers beneath her chin, “a little something to sweeten the deal. A little something to seal your admission that you wish to be mine for all time, Lumina.”

She doesn’t think twice before she raises the cup to her lips, but the instant it coats her tongue, she knows something is… different. It’s rich in flavor, strange and familiar in her mouth all at once. “This is still warm, my Master?”

“Indeed,” he leaned against the mantle, lazily watching her every move. “Warm, freshly spilled, living, thinking blood,” he paused, reaching for her as if he could touch her at this distance, “only for you, my Little Light.”

Lumina dared another mouthful, its power already making her body shake. Making her feel more alive than ever before. It felt so very good. Too good perhaps. She didn’t even give a second thought to its source, to whatever poor guest maybe was bled or left to die for her meal. It was.. addictive the way it made her feel. It made her nerves tingle, her face flush hot. It made her hands warm, her sex hot and dripping and clenching as she locked eyes with him from across the room.

Her hands shook as she tried to set the chalice down on its stem. The cup toppled over with her clumsiness, but she had drained every drop of that sweet, powerful elixir.

“Not to your taste, my love?” he purred, his hips cocking as her body shook, as she took small steps closer. Her eyes were dilated wide, her skin flushed and alive. He could smell her arousal, hear her heart pumping slightly harder. “I was so hoping you would say it’s the best you’ve ever had, my darling.”

Her nostrils flared as she crept closer. That blood was in her veins, the magic already taking hold, he could see it. And it made him smile.

“It’s nice to see you indulge,” he said, pulling her naked form against him the moment she was within reach. “How do you feel? Your first thinking blood, hmm?”

“I… feel…” she whispered, leaning into his body, shivering as her skin brushed against his smooth chest.

She hesitated as she scanned his face. “Do you feel alive?” He smirked, rubbing his hand across her cheek and into her shining golden hair. “Do you feel strong… happy?”

“Yes,” she sighed, her eyes locked into his face. Looking for answers to unspoken questions. “But I feel so much more than that. I can’t… tell you what.”

He cradled her against him, hands running over her body with a bit of tenderness and a bit of command. “Shh shh,” he hushed in her ear. “Perhaps the blood I harvested for you was a little strong. You deserve the best, my Light, only the strongest, most potent, most powerful blood will do for my… mistress.”

That power coursed in her veins, every sense sharpened with its vigor. Looking into his face, she would see every twitch of his brows, every flicker of his eyes on her own countenance. “Your mistress?” she hesitated to let the words from her lips as if she feared they were a lie.

His lip twisted to one side, an amused smirk as she licked her lips clean still. “Oh yes,” he hummed, pulling her across the room. A single door slide opened as he approached, hidden amongst the heavy-laden shelves. The darkness swallowed them as she followed him inside. His scent was heavy in the air as he called flames to light the candlesticks within. The chamber within was elegant and luxurious, a smattering of bright colors and pastels, on the walls, the curtains, the bedspread.

He stopped at the bedside, hands at her lower back to pull her flush against him. “You will be here, my Light.” He nodded his back towards the open door, “One door to allow you into my cherished library at your smallest whim….” A flourish of his hand, and one glowing Mage Hand appeared across the room, opening another broad door on the opposite side. “And another door to my chambers…” his brows furrowed into that look of possessive hunger and seduction, his voice dripping that warm and velvety promise of pleasure. “Since you will be in my bed every night henceforth…” Astarion gripped her ass hard in his palms, letting his nails dig into her soft and supple flesh. “Or I in yours, if you’ll have me.”

Something in her full belly swirled at his words, his invitation didn’t feel like one of his commands… there was no pull of his magic, no tendrils tickling her will. It was a true offer, a genuine invitation to let him into her bed and between her thighs.

She stared into that sultry smirking face, the light dancing off his sharp features, his eyes extra piercing with those lines of kohl making them captivating, intense. She shivered under that stare. He clearly had this all planned, prepared well in advance, every detail ready for her approval and admiration. And she loved it.

She turned to pull herself against his body, his skin so hot against her belly, his scent so delicious and familiar as she took a deep breath. “I’m always willing to have you, my master,” she sighed, blushing with hot cheeks for once as she met his ravenous gaze. “I’ll have you right now again, and again if you wish.”

“There is nothing… I’d like more,” he sighed, his mouth descending sharply. His kiss is all power and passion, his body pushed up against her bare skin until she was nearly tumbling into her new bed. Hers. It was all hers. As he pushed her down, as he pulled his legs free from his trousers and sank himself inside her again beneath him, he finally felt a burst of heat in his chest.

He had thought of nothing the last tenday apart from having her again, from giving her a place at his side where she couldn’t stray too far. He wanted nothing more than his cock buried in her, her hair wrapped around his hand or beneath his face as he slept, he wanted her with him always now. No other concubine would do.

She had ruined him. And so, he plotted to reward her with all this… the thought was almost too much, his victory at making her his alone.

This little girl from the little shop, pulled from the gutter by his hand to be his saving Light. He would give her everything, and he would take her everything from her. An equal exchange.

Something about her simmered beneath the surface since he had first caught a glimpse of her in that rank old shop, the keeper’s only piece of chattel worth offering for his debts. His chest had been tight, his throat had burned to see her being used and neglected. He would do so much better for her.

And now, as she bucked to his every thrust, hands clasped around his beck and eyes fluttered shut as she came so flawless on his cock, he had finally given her the value of her true worth.

She was his Light, his diamond in the rough. And now she was his forever. That blood in her body was already working its magic. Her flesh was warm, her power increased ten fold, not that she would know it… Soon she would do so much more than feel warm to the touch, but she would figure that out in due time.

A few final, erratic snaps of his hips, and he filled her, pulse after pulse as he groaned. Eyes locked on her face, he watched her lips tremble to feel him come so hard just for her. Breathless, he kept himself up on his arms, a few lingering drags in her channel for extra pleasure. “Perfect. You are perfect every time,” he breathed, leaning down just enough to catch those pretty pink lips in a kiss. “And you’ll be perfect forever.”

Slowly he lowered himself to crusch her little body into the bed. “It’s all I could do to think of you. When I wasn’t meeting with boring nobles, I would dream of your sweet lips and your even sweeter cunt.”

“I thought of you too,” she admitted so quietly. “I would sneak to visit the halls to your rooms, just to catch your scent…”

“Tch,” he teased, a dark arch to his brow, “naughty for a spawn… but it was your well-deserved right at my mistress.”

“You’re serious about all this… my master?” she barely spoke, eyes darting around her new room, how fine it was, how impressive it was.

“Do you doubt my sincerity?” He looked at her exacting and yet somehow playful. Mischievous perhaps. “Doubt my devotion to you?”

She smiled, again that luminous grin that made his heart ache. “I did, yes, in your absence, my lord. Your other spawn…”

“You’ll never have to worry about them again,” he interjected. “Not one of them will harm you,” his mouth turned in a sadistic, threatening smirk. “And godsforbid one of them so much as insults you, my mistress. They will wish…”

She put her hand on his mouth. “No one needs to die or be punished because of me, my lo… lord.”

His brow arched, curious, as her hand left his lips, revealing his smirk. “Your…? It seems there was more you wished to say.” His fingers softly grabbed her chin to open those pouting lips of hers. “Don’t make me pry the word from your tongue…”

“My love,” she blushed as she said. “I… I love you,” she paused and held her breath.

The look of pure contentment on his face made him appear… youthful, innocent, as if he hadn’t just been threatening to kill a spawn for insult it threat. “Do you know happy that makes me? To hear my feelings returned?” his voice low, pressed in his throat.

“You.. love me too?”

“Of course I do,” he smiled wider. “Why else would I bring you as mine tonight, give you such powerful, living blood and gift you these rooms as my mistress?” Those long, skilled fingers teased through her golden hair, his thumb dancing across her cheek. Her skin warm and flushed and looking alive with that fresh and potent blood in her body.

She giggled, giddy beneath him. “It seems far too good for me, my love.” She let the name free from her lips this time. Those lips were too much a temptation for him not to devour again. “Nothing is too good for you now that you are mine alone, mine forever, my Little Light.”

His… The possessiveness made her purr, curled in his arms, warmed and cared for. For once in her life.

“You’ll let me show you my affection for you once more, won’t you?” he rasped into her ear, cock still hard and shoved deep within her.

A cheeky smile on her lip, she rolled him on his back. It was so easy… in the morning she would realize it had been too easy. But for now, she was drunk on the sight of him under her, his tousled hair and rakish smirk as she began to grind. “More than willing to have you show me, only this time, allow me… my love.”

When she finally stirred, every limb ached, her legs dried and sticky. Her arm reached beside her, the softest sheets cocooning her in luxury. Slowly, the night returned to her… the rigorous fucking, the new chambers, his mistress, his chosen… his love. Her nerves tingled as she stirred. Opening her eyes, these new rooms were bathed in light.

Light.

Not from candles or fireplaces or torches. Daylight. The kind she had been barred from, the dangerous burn you to nothing kind of light.

But now, warm beams cut through the air, the particles of dust dancing merrily in their shafts. She reached a hand into the closest beam. It warmed her skin, bathing her in light she thought she would never see again.

The moment of euphoria and hope darkened even as she sat up. Alone in her new rooms, she could hear movement from his chambers through their connecting door. Her heart sank and fluttered, her mind racing.

What had he done to her…

#ascended astarion #ascended astarion x spawn #spawn harem #ascended astarion smut #astarion x oc #astarion angst #astarion x female oc #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 romance #baldur’s gate iii #baldur’s gate 3

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Addiction

Part One: A Chance Encounter

Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol and being drunk

A/N: Ok, so not smut, but its coming, we have to set the scene first 😉

You felt your phone buzz in your hand, the screen illuminating your face in the dark dining room as you looked through your text messages. You rested your back against the bar located in the corner of the room.

Darien: Wish you were here. London is boring without you

You: That’s impossible. You’re literally in my favorite city right now

Darien: I’ve been in my hotel ever since work ended. My team went out to the pubs without me

You: You should really be going out with them

Darien: Always thought my first time in London would be with you. Love you

You: I-

You were stopped from responding by a glass of liquor being shoved in your face. You looked up to see Sierra in front of you, double fisting two glasses of what you suspected to be a rum and coke, your choice of drink for these industry events. You were among the Hollywood elite tonight in a New York City restaurant, celebrating some actor, whose name you couldn’t bother to remembers, fifth trendy and over-priced alcohol launch. You were far from a celebrity, but often made the guest list of these events on behalf of your boss. Working as the assistant for the VP of publicity at Atlantic Records admittedly had very few perks, one of them being able to rub elbows at parties with the latest TV heartthrob or whoever managed to be at the top of the Billboard 100 chart that week.

Did you sound a little jaded? Sure, but you were also borderline tipsy.  

“Was that Darien?”, she asked, looking around the room as she took a small sip from her glass. “Ooh, Bad Bunny. That’s five.” Sierra bounced on her tippy toes as you narrowed your eyes to get a better look across the dark room. The two of you had spent the last hour trying to identify as many celebrities as you could. You were losing, having accidentally mistaken Kevin Jonas for Joe Jonas. You tried to argue that it was an easy mistake, given that they were brothers, but Sierra was unwilling to give you a pass.

“I don’t think that’s Bad Bunny, and yes. He just got done with his meetings for the day. He decided to stay in the hotel for the rest of the night I guess.” You took a big swig of your drink. You way past the part of the night where you were still feeling the effects of alcohol. “All of his colleagues went out to some bars.” You slipped your phone back into your clutch, tucking the bag underneath your arm again. You’d respond to him when you got home later.

“Dull Darien”, Sierra slurred her words as she giggled out the nickname she had given your boyfriend when you started dating over three years ago. You caught her just as she stumbled over her heels, making a mental note to watch how many drinks she had.

Sierra had been your best friend since essentially birth. Your moms were best friends, and you grew up two houses down from one another. When you were kids you were attached at the hip, and not much had changed over the years, as she became your plus one to all of these events. She knew you better than you knew yourself, and she was never shy about how she felt about your boyfriends. There had been Jerky Jacob, your high school boyfriend, Bossy Brian, a guy you had dated right out of college who Sierra was convinced was a narcissist, and finally Two-Timing Trey, who had earned the name for obvious reasons.

“Enough with the nickname, S.” You warned with a dramatic roll of your eyes, knowing she had no intention on stopping. “He’s not dull, he’s just-“ you were having a difficult time finding a word that wouldn’t edge her on. “He’s boring. Just say it. Not an exciting bone in his body.” You opened your mouth to object, but quickly closed it. Truthfully you had no defense. Darien was boring, and that was putting it nicely. The first time you met him, you definitely didn’t feel the usual butterflies of excitement, but you were just getting out of your relationship with Trey, and you weren’t looking for thrill or adventure, you were looking for safety, and if Darien was anything, he was safe.

“I’m just saying, you’re hot as fuck, you could probably have any guy you wanted. Hell, you could probably walk up to any of these celebs and go home with them.” You scoffed, tipping your glass up to get the last drop of top shelf rum. The dress you were wearing was borrowed from one of your stylists friends, a sequin cocktail dress from 16Arlington with a rather large peekaboo cutout at the front that showed off your cleavage. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want some random celeb. Maybe I like my dull boyfriend.” Your words sent Sierra into a fit of giggles, partially from her inebriation and partially because she knew you were lying through your teeth. “Please don’t pretend like if Drake came up to you right now, you wouldn’t jump at the chance to leave with him.”

“Damn, my money was gonna be on Brad Pitt. He seems like more your type.” You turned on your heels to see a tall figure, his chestnut curls hitting right at his eyebrows, a frame to his gorgeous blue eyes, the rest of his hair cut into a mullet. You immediately noticed his handsome smile as you studied his face. You had learned early on in your career how to identify which guys were someone and which ones were wannabes in this industry. He was tall enough to be an athlete, but too lanky. He still had life in his eyes, something that a lot of actors lost when they realized they were selling their soul for a recurring role on a CW drama. That left someone in the music industry. You recognized him, his face was hung up in the halls of Atlantic Records, but the name escaped you.

“He’s a little bit out of my age range. I prefer my actors to still have a will to live.” Your joke earned you a chuckle from the-, the mullet suggested alternative band, but the cocky stance and southern drawl to his accent made you think rapper- the rapper. “Well, tell me-“, he paused to allow you to fill the silence with your name. “Y/N, and this is Sierra.” You gestured at your friend who was having trouble standing up straight, her hand gripping the bar to steady herself.

“Well, Y/N, Brad Pits loss is my gain.” His words were suggestive, no doubt, but he spoke with such a confidence, you weren’t sure if he was actually flirting with you, or if that’s just how he talked with everyone. “I’m Jack.” He extended his hand out to you, and you cautiously accepted, quickly breaking apart.

“I know where I know you from. You’re Jack Harlow! I love your song”, she snapped her fingers carelessly, hoping it would jog her memory, “Business Class.” She punctuated her words with a hiccup.

“Close enough.” He chuckled, his gaze never leaving your face. He was trying his hardest not to look down at your body, even though he thought you looked fucking gorgeous. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” Jack’s eyebrows perked up when you spoke. “I see your face every day on my way to work.” You could tell you lost him when his face fell. “Sorry, I should probably explain. I work for Jason.” You could see the dots quickly connecting in his mind. “Oh, fuck yeah, I love Jason. He’s keeps me out of trouble.”

You felt your phone vibrate against your side. You were inclined to ignore it until you felt it pulse a few more times. “Sorry, I have to get this.” You just missed Jack’s look of disappointment as you looked down at your phone.

Darien: Couple of pictures of the view from my hotel. Wish you were here.

You scrolled through the photos, all different, slightly out of focus angles of the Thames. Leave it to Darien to also take the most boring pictures.

“Must be really important.” Your head shot back up at Jack, who was now resting his elbows atop the bar. “Oh, it’s nothing.” You shook your head as your phone slipped back into your bag. “Just a family member.” You weren’t sure why you lied in the moment. Jack didn’t know you, and besides the initial flirting, he wasn’t trying to make a pass at you. At least as far as you could tell; you were just starting to sober up.  

“Let’s ask Jack.” Sierra was now standing in the middle of the two of you, leaning a little too close to Jack for comfort. He backed up as he smelled the vodka on her breath. “Jack, Y/N is dating this guy right now, and I think he’s just the most boring person on the planet.” Jack looked at you with a smirk on his face as you tried to hide your embarrassment, feeling the heat creep up your neck. Jack was hotter than any guy you had previously dated and was already more exciting than your current boyfriend just in five minutes of conversation.

“I mean, the only thing he likes talking about is Game of Thrones and his Lego collection.” Sierra continued, ignoring your pokes to her side to get her to shut up.

“He sounds like a fucking nerd.” Jack uttered under his breath, but you heard him loud and clear. Sierra did as well, frantically nodding her head. “He totally is.” She lowered her head, most likely thinking that was going to help her whisper, but her next words were loud above the blaring music. “Plus, she told me the sex is terrible. Like he barely lasts for more than a couple minutes.” You caught the look of smugness on Jack’s face as he listened to how unsatisfying your current sex life was.

“Okay, I think that’s enough. Time for you to go home.” You yanked at Sierra’s arm, causing her to fall into Jack. He caught her just in time, helping to hold her up. You roughly grabbed her phone out of her hand, pulling up the Uber app. “Fuck”, you cursed under your breath, seeing that the closest Uber was about 30 minutes away and surge pricing had gone into effect.

“Hey, I’ve got a car waiting that you guys are more than welcome to use to get back to your place.” Jack could tell you were more than done with the night, and he hoped his gesture would smooth out your less than successful meet cute. “Are you sure, we really can wait for an Uber.” As if she had timed it, Sierra’s knees buckled, Jack catching her under her arms. “I’m sure.

****

You rubbed your hands up and down your arms, crossing them over your chest as you left the venue. It was colder now than when you arrived, and you were wishing you had that coat that was laying on your bed back at your apartment. Jack followed behind you, Sierra’s arm draped over his shoulders for support. You quickly located the black SUV waiting at the curb, and opened the door, watching as Jack helped Sierra into the back of the vehicle, immediately slumping over to lay across the seats.

“Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate you letting us borrow your car. How are you gonna get back?” You looked at your feet as you asked the question, resisting the urge to look up at his face; his eyes were even brighter underneath the streetlights.

“I’m actually staying right there.” He pointed across the street to a tall metropolitan style building, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. He stuck his hands into the front pocket of his trouser pants, his shoulders pinned to his ears as he tried to stay warm as well. “The car was just in case I wanted to head to another party, but the hotel bed sounds a lot more appealing right now.” There was that tone again, so suggestive, as if he was inviting you to his hotel room as well.  “Have a good night, Y/N. Hope I see you again.” He extended his hand out, his nails perfectly manicured, and you found yourself wondering what his hands would feel like exploring your body. You let that thought ruminate in your head for a second before coming back to reality. You grabbed his hand, returning the gesture, the two of you lingering on the sidewalk. “Goodnight.”

Jack watched as you climbed into the vehicle next to Sierra, before jogging across the street to his hotel.

“He seemed like a nice guy”, Sierra remarked as she rested her head against your shoulder, closing her eyes, “and he was hot as fuck.” She let out a hum of amusement as she started to drift off to sleep.

“Yeah, such a nice guy.” You flipped the room key around in your hand that Jack had planted there. You grazed your thumb over the engraved letters, “The Waldorf Astoria Hotel, Room 1423”, emblazoned in gold lettering on the plastic card.

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#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

[ur-mousey]

If you’re doing requests could you write smth smutty with jeffery from class of 09 x female reader w some dubcon

Benzo-Addict ~

Yandere! Jeffery x F! Reader

Part Two is in progress. Will contain heavy smut!

warning college AU, mature, non-con, heavy drug use, hostage situation, violence. 1.8k

..............................

** Choice ** Head home, hang in the res quad with the other losers, or hot box it in a classroom with Nicole and Jecka. * click *

>>>

"Nicole, what the fuck is a benzosexual exactly?" Your head whipped to the side at record speed. "Sounds... not good?" You popped a chip in your awaiting mouth. The salt and tang collided on your tongue. A moan then threatened to emerge with each solid crunch. But, you'd held it at bay.

"I feel like we had this conversation before..." Nicole mused through a hit of the shared joint. With a sigh, smoke mingled between the girls, whispering with the dust flurries kicked up through their shuffling.

The classroom you all snuck into felt stiff and desolate, a reminder of how teachers truly made the space. Professors rotate, and it's wholly evident. The walls remained bare through full seasons and multiple decades. Autumn fades without color and Spring rises to meet its end.

This educational prison stood in the glory of its bareness, except for the singular doodle of Homer Simpson on the whiteboard. And the desks were neatly arranged, bolted down into place. Only the chairs beckoned students to sit. They awaited for the next class’s arrival. However, it being a Friday afternoon meant that classes seldom came to these halls

"It's because we had." Jecka retorted before gesturing to you, "She just wasn't here for it."

Nicole scoffed, "Sucks for her that she missed all the pedophiles and rapists, and now we're stuck with molesters and rapists who don't go after minors' asses."

Jecka puffed her chest up before sighing dramatically. "Remind me, why are you still Hitler? Grow out of it."

“I’ve grown -obviously- because I can’t call every man a pedophile in relation to me. Your whore sister, in 6th grade, she’s surrounded by them by the dozen… See!? Development, bitch.”

"Okay, Nicole equals Hitler, but what's a benzosexual?" You urged the pair on. You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. But you decided to ignore it for now.

"Someone attracted to the unconscious," Jecka twirled her fingers. A singular strand glowed too brightly in the setting sun. "There was just this dumb jock named Kylar at our high school who was constantly -and I mean it, constantly- putting weird shit in girls drinks."

"Isn't that illegal? Like, report him."

"He played lacrosse," Nicole muttered. "Reporting it wouldn't do shit. Sports players get molested all the time by their grimy coaches, and it’s the girl's fault.”

You reached for another glorious bite, munching on it with deliberate ease. "Truly the Pessimist," You hissed through gritted teeth. Nicole's stare momentarily flashed to your face, eyes redden and lazy, smoke swirling out her nose, before she leaned further in.

"It's Jeffery, huh?"

Your phone was currently blowing itself shitless. The silence whirled with a frenzy of buzzes. All from your ex-lab partner, you'd assumed. Not a single moment was left undominated by his insistence for your attention. Jeffery needed a response to whatever you didn't care. Up, the buzzing went, utilizing your spinal cord as a ladded. The vibration climbed through your veins, propping its feet between your bones.

You retrieved your phone. 20 missed calls and 50+ texts.

"Forget creeps like Kylar when there's Jeffery. God couldn't even keep him away from us."

Jecka cackled as she leaned her chin upon your shoulder. "Good luck playing into his fetish. Being his... mommy!? And all. Meow~"

You flushed all red, "Don't read it!"

Jecka teased you unabashedly about Jeffery. You made the mistake of defending him after the first week of classes. To you, he was just a smart guy, albeit a little bit socially awkward. Scratch that: he's a lost cause in social interactions. It wasn't horrendous or anything. It made talking to him before stress-free. Now it's a different story.

Jeffery was immensely helpful to your 90 average in Environmental Science. He demonstrated class problems repeatedly until you held comprehension of the subject. There were times he had crossed the lines of your acquaintanceship. One random Monday, Jeffery gave a hentai DVD to you and a notebook that explained his depraved inner thoughts; 'I love watching 40-feet cat women step on guy's penises. The sight made my hand go faster till total completion.'

And frankly, you didn't want to know that. Jeffery, the weird otaku obsessed with NaruParty13, whom you felt bad for, proved to be a complete freak.

With your first semester ending, you closed the chapter of being his lab partner. In came new housing, with your boyfriend and away from the dorms, and less frequent trips to the dining hall, which meant fewer interactions with Jeffery. For literal fuck sake, you shared zero classes together, nor were you a part of the same major. Your paths strayed from one another. You entertained small talk here and there when it felt inevitable. Any sane person would let this lack of relationship go. Not Jeffery. 

"I'm not playing into anyone's kinks aside from my own." You stuck your tongue out, shoving Jecka away.

"And sometimes your sleaze boyfriend."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm perfect 10 with a high libido." You mocked, matching your pitch to Jecka's. "And Cody's not a total sleaze."

Nicole tapped your shoulder with the joint in hand, "He's as depraved as any other man. Hence the usage of the word total."

** Choice ** Snatch the weed, or confront Jeffery. * click *

>>>

You could deal with Jeffery another day.

You were like a kite soaring through the sky. Your mind fell far into a different plane of existence than your own, but you didn't mind. The world was spinning. And, if you were in a room, you couldn't tell. No amount of stable ground could keep your feet stationed. Your vision was decorated in fuzz and pixels. And, in a twist of fate, you thought yourself tumbling forward.

You had taken it. Nicole's shit- that joint was strong as fuck. The first drag knocked your chest back in reverie. Yet you kept ripping. By the time you had left campus, you were inflicted with giggles, and you'd remained starry-eyed throughout dinner.

Then came the Friday night club scene. You downed shots like a bad bitch. Ghandi would be proud.

>>>

You stumbled through the shared flat with Cody. Your lips entangled with each other in battle. His hands groped your hips and pinched its flesh with fervent joy. His lips were chapped and his tongue held the remnants of beer. You enjoyed its taste against the mint of your gum.

Your boyfriend pulled away. Your name breached passed moans and whines, sobering your tequila-filled belly slightly. "Babe, please grab the Percocet... In the cabinet." Cody damn near whined. You nodded furiously, and your brain rattled against your skull.

He smacked a sloppy kiss on your forehead before shooing you away.

** Choice ** Sober up with water, or take a dive into prescription pill wonderland. * click *

>>>

And down the hatch, the Percocet goes.

>>>

"You... you little shi- Fuck!"

Cody? Was that you?

His words felt miles away and your head ached. You knew Cody was crying really ugly. Was he talking to you? Were you dying? You were neither here nor there. And faintly, you registered the sound of skin impacting skin. It was unmistakable.

Cody screeched, "That hurts dipshit!"

"You ruined her. People ruined her," A disembodied voice spoke over you. You groaned, head swirling with more things than one. Could it be a dream? Where were you? How were you here? If you opened up your eyes, would you be able to see? "She was absolutle... Beauty! A perfect girl rivaling those of the anime girls in Doki Doki Daisuke.

It was as if God answered my prayers and brought her to life in front of me. That's who she is to me -perfect as the day I met her... Before she met mean girls like Nicole. And, before she allowed you to defile her."

"Fuck," Cody screeched. "What the hell are you talking about!? We were dating before that whore, Nicole!" Who are you talking to?

Cody? I'm scared. I can't... get out of my own head.

His voice continued. "Look man, she was never going to be with you. We started going steady in high school. You were some bizarre loser, a complete neet, who got assigned as her lab partner. For fuck sake, she would've ignored you still without me or her friends. You are just a nuisance who can't take no for an answer! Is this your final attempt to get her to look at you!? Huh... HUH!? Well? Is it working? Does she see you now? Fuck no -she's unconscious! Guess who you're talking to? ME!!!"

Fingers carded over your scalp, itching at your crown. You tingled all over, and the coldest breath ghosted over your cheeks. "I would treat her better. I would put her on a pedestal that rivals Yuno Gasai, whom I believe to be the sluttiest and most desirable anime girl."

Was that voice Jeffery? You managed to whine at that, and you were promptly shushed -consoled like a child.

"She's like this because of you. You're supposed to protect her. What boyfriend allows his girlfriend to get this drugged out."

Silence.

Cody? Are you still there? Like actually, there? I don't understand. Why is this happening? What even is happening to me?

After a while, your boyfriend tsked, "She's a fucking addict, and it is hot as shit. Imagine what a drugged-up slut would do to please you."

Pause.

"Besides, You aren't at all above it. Don't act like you're better than me. Ain't it true that you roofie bitches? Hehe, now you're coming after my druggie girlfriend. Some SHIT!!"

"Y'a know, you talk too much," Jeffery whispered. And you found the strength within yourself to peel your eyes open. You were home. The few nicknacks you displayed glared into your retinas. Once, twice, it felt unbearable to blink. Your gaze started at the carpet, swooping to the left then the right, along the walls, and down to center

Your boyfriend's stared back at you. Then came the...

Screamss

You hadn't comprehended the missing beats of Cody's responses until then. In that state of limbo, words tied together rhythmically. Now, each plea and wail came out differently past battered lips. He begged you to run through swollen tongues and lisps.

Each pause was a catch of breath. Cody's chest rose and fell in quick succession. His face was bloodied. Swirled vermillion, slathered by a pair of hands. Where the original wound is, you couldn't tell. It was all over the place. Ropes circled his chest, soaking up red, and kept him strapped to a wooden dining chair.

"Co-" You sputtered. You couldn't stop the onslaught of coughs that inched its way up your throat. Before you could say anything more, Jeffery's palm smashed against your mouth. He finally gained your attention, all while waving a knife around.

"My darling sweetheart," Jeffery cooed with adoration. "I'll handle the trash. Go back to sleep. I was just about to silence him."

You wanted to vomit. You hoped that the acidity would transport you to a reality where you were kneeling over a toilet. Or a bush, fuck it. It could be anywhere than this. You'll take on hang-over Central despite wanting to die. You'll say fuck drugs and then by next week, you're on it again.

You can't stay away from Percs and Robo.

Jeffery's appearance was dishevled, a stark contrast from what you were accustomed to. His hair was overgrown and unkempt with inky stands that poked from every angle. It was utterly impossible to look away. His crazed eyes darted across your face, searching within you for something you weren't sure you had to offer.

He turned from you, speaking to Cody. "Stop screaming! Or I'll gut you if you interfere before what's coming next."

** Choice ** Figure out what's next, or miss part 2, bitch. * click *

.............................. Thank you for reading! Please leave ideas in the comments! Request rules are here! I overestimated once again how fast I could write. And my new job is so exhausting, I'm constantly on my feet. But part two will be out soon 🥳 I promised a creampie, and that will happen. This is just the setup. I got too invested in the plot.

>>> NEXT CLASS OF 09' POST: Benzo-Addict part 2

Due to the nature of the game, I tried writing differently than what I consider normal. But I had so much fun writing for this fandom. It'll be so entertaining to write up my toxic lesbian idea next. 🫣 Hope you guys like my work, and go check out my pinned post for more fanfic!!!!!

#class of 09 #class of 09 the re up #jeffery class of 09 #nicole class of 09 #jecka class of 09 #jeffery x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #college au #yandere #yandere otaku #tw drugs #tw noncon

[murmiss]

Headcanons about Yandere Simulator!COD.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Warning: mention of suicide, mention of alcohol, drugs, mental problems, possibly traumatic moments, etc. My personal vision of the character. OOC?

I think he's perfect for the role of Yandere.

His childhood was disgustingly shitty, and you can't blame him for that.

Born into a dysfunctional family, Simon was doomed to a hard life from childhood. His father was a drunk, a bloody alcoholic who prided himself on being able to drink for weeks and stay on his feet. A dirty man, with filthy and sadistic tendencies taken out on those closest to him. A freak who broke everyone he knew, trampling on his own son, turning the poor child into an unwilling broken doll.

Simon remembered those lonely nights in the old shed next to the house, cluttered with trash and rusty tools, like it was yesterday. The cold wind blew through the cracks between the boards, leaving goosebumps on Simon's skin and forcing him to pull his legs tighter together, curling up in a ball to keep warm. A night in the old barn was Mr. Riley's favorite punishment, a man crashing home after another rave binge to find out his son had gotten an F in school? Late for first period? Or maybe spent his pocket money on some silly comic book? - no matter what, Simon will fly instantly to the Locked Shed. No matter what happened, Simon was always drawn to his older brother, who, unfortunately, wasn't as good as his younger brother would have liked. Tommy was a jerk, that bad boy in high school who publicly cursed the teacher, broke the toilet faucet, and did stupid things. But the dumbest thing in Tommy's life was drugs - this jerk decided to prove once again to everyone that he was cool, not realizing that very soon this addiction would consume him, like everyone else who once got addicted. And Simon hovered between two fires, like a child dreaming of a normal family, like a son who had never seen his father smile and never heard praise. And the mother? Mrs. Riley-a dandelion of God, withering rapidly in her husband's dirty hands. She was a beautiful woman, the only person in that family who cared about Simon, and he loved her immensely, and still does. Mrs. Riley died when Simon was 14. It was a cold Sunday morning when a loud gunshot rang out, waking Simon from his sleep. Feeling an animal fear, he rushed to the sound, recognizing a sight that forever shattered his poor mind. On September 6, Mrs. Riley shot herself in the temple.Haunted by her husband's nightmares and torture, she couldn't take any more of this abusive behavior, couldn't watch her firstborn wither under drugs, couldn't see Simon hurt.But her act didn't make it better, hell, that kind of thing never makes anything better. After that day, Simon withdrew more than ever. Hitting his father was nothing, hunger was nothing, being forced to kiss a poisonous snake was a challenge.

Simon grew up, and with it grew his hatred and repressed aggression towards his father.One day in a club Simon watched his father attack a poor girl. She simply refused to spend the night with him and the drunkard, not confused, began to beat her as if he were a wrestler in the ring Simon could not do anything, just as he could not save his mother, stop his father's beatings or convince Tommy that drugs are evil. And he didn't understand why his father wasn't in jail. They'd find the girl, but when they did, no one would really care what happened. The freak always gets away with it.

After the death of his mother, Simon was forced to work part-time at the local machine shop. Old man Carson was happy to help the neighbor boy, so he took him into his shop as an assistant without any questions or demands. Yes, and Simon was a handy and understanding guy.

Simon started out washing cars, and after working like that for half a year, he was promoted to Carson's apprentice: the old man explained and taught the boy mechanics, letting him stay up late reading books about cars.

The old man was able to replace Simon's father, teaching the teenager simple things necessary for basic survival. For example, Simon, at 16, learned how to fix some appliances and how to use tools. But Mrs. Carson had already taught Simon cooking, laundry, and household chores, and he, as a bright boy, grasped everything on the fly. Simon noticed Mr. and Mrs. Carson had a son, which they never had, for unfortunately Paula Carson was barren.

Simon lived as a two-family household, mostly spending his days at his mentor's house, but when his father began to rage and throw himself at the neighbor's door, Simon would return, falling asleep again in his little room.

The work in the workshop brought quite a good income and Simon, having entered the desired college, was even able to rent a small apartment on the outskirts of the city, and finally moved out of his home, so as not to see this den, and not to put, in Simon's opinion, the family of his mentor in danger.

The old man Carson told him fatherly: "Simon, you'll be happy when you find love. Simon thought so, but he couldn't imagine what that love looked like. He couldn't believe it would happen someday, not just pass him by like it always did.

But one day that day has come. First day of college, Simon is walking toward the auditorium when a stranger suddenly sweeps him off his feet like a small tornado. It was just a moment when he looked into your eyes-- He felt like he was going to drown in them. The way your eyelashes fluttered as you stood there, rubbing your forehead after the blow and babbling something, was in his head. From that day on, he couldn't imagine his life if you weren't there for him.

"Finally, I'll be happy."

But is this how it's going to be? Simon can't contain his anger at seeing you talking sweetly to some cocky kid in the back of the class. And the voice in Simon's head whispered sweetly: "eliminate."

#call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly tf141 #fanfic #headcanon

[808airsoftbros]

Obsessive Step Mother (Bae Suzy)

Author: A yandere oneshot I've written in Wattpad. Hope you all enjoy it and if you want to see more of my works do check out the Masterlist.

To whoever reads this,

I've completely lost count of how long it's been since my stepmother imprisoned me inside our home without any means to contact the outside world.

However, the only way I could eat it was with my stepmother Bae Suzy or her butler delivering me food, it was delicious and nice which helped make my prison more bearable but regardless, I'm always finding ways to escape.

But leaving this hellhole isn't going to be easy or simple as there are security cameras all over the manor and outside. All the windows and the doors are always locked and even if I managed to lockpick the door the alarms will go off as soon as I step foot out of the mansion.

I've learned all of this from my previous attempts of escaping and I was met with harsh punishment by Suzy. Consequences went from being locked into solitary or the basement, nearly starving me to death, and rape.

Yeah, my stepmother doesn't play games or joke around too much, Suzy and I go way back into my childhood days. It all started when my Appa and Eomma had officially divorced due but I don't know the reasons as I was too naive, Appa had decided to remarry and hooked up with Suzy.

What my Appa found bizarre was how addicted and attached Suzy was to me, she wouldn't leave me alone nor let me out of her sight for a millisecond.

At first, Appa didn't think too much about it for a while until I entered high school, and things started to get concerning.

My Stepmother had forbidden me from dating any girls or barely any freedom at all, of course, I kept on protesting and arguing but it all ended with severe repercussions.

My Appa finally had enough of it and attempted to file for divorce for such erratic parenting but Suzy had clever tricks up her sleeve and it turned out that Suzy had sinister plans in mind.

She hired a hitman to assassinate my Appa and inherit all of his income and the whole manor, thus leaving me in her care.

That's basically how I'm here trapped in confinement for a while, I'm currently about 18 years old and I thought being an adult would grant me freedom from this prison but I was more than wrong...

When I tried to start a new life from scratch, I worked at a local grocery store far from home but somehow her bodyguards managed to catch me and bring me back here.

That's all I have to say for today...

Y/N's POV

Concluding writing in my journal for today, I heard a soft knocking on the door meaning it was time for dinner.

The door slowly opens revealing my devil of a stepmother, holding a tray of food and drinks for the two of us.

"Dinner is ready, darling, I hope you're hungry~." She said to me before putting it down on the table.

Looking at the plates of food on the tray, it appears to be curry with rice, ramen, and Korean beef.

Each dish looked delicious and mouth-watering as my stepmother knows how to cook well, she places a towel napkin on my lap and tucked one in the collar of my shirt to avoid getting any crumbs or small spills on my clothes.

"Now, open wide~!" She instructed me as she scooped up some Korean beef and I did what she asked before she feeds it to me.

The beef tasted delightful as always just like the rest of her food, she continues to feed me like a delicate and fragile child.

With each bite I took out of her hand, she watched me like a predator eyeing her prey making eating unpleasant.

It was obvious she has serious mental health problems but I doubt she couldn't give a shit about it as long as I remain here.

After we were finished with dinner, it was time for my stepmother's special dessert, she called in the butler to pick up the dirty dishes on the tray, and once he had taken away the plates for us, he left us alone in my room.

My stepmother goes up to the door and locks it to make sure that I don't try to flee, she was wearing a black bathrobe and she gave me an evil smirk before slowly walking towards me.

"I hope you're not too full, honey because it's time for dessert~." She said to me before removing the bathrobe revealing her lingerie.

Her smooth and silky skin was literally to die for as she takes good care of herself just for her precious stepson.

"On the bed, sweetie and mommy will take good care of you~." She instructed me and I quickly got onto the bed by instinct.

Crawling on the bed towards me, she takes off all of my clothes leaving only underwear before cuffing me to the bed frame.

"You love how mommy takes control of you, huh~? Good, because I love it too~." She whispered to me before attacking my neck leaving hickeys all over it.

One of her kinks is to leave marks on her territory because of how lovesick she is but there's nothing I can do nor do I have a say in anything.

"Oh, one more thing, mommy has something to put on you~." She informed me before revealing a pink collar and my eyes widened in terror.

Putting on the collar around my neck, she latched on a leash as well putting her in a position that allows complete dominance over me.

Seeing no point in the handcuffs, she takes them off before tossing them aside in my room and she places my hands on both of her breasts.

"Now, shall we enjoy ourselves~?" She proposed to me and I nodded.

"I want an answer, baby boy~." She demanded me in a sweet but psychotic tone and I gulped.

"Y-Yes, mommy," I answered her and she smiled.

TIMESKIP

Last night left me all exhausted because of how sexually demanding she was and my legs are bloody sore.

My snowballs have been utterly drained out and I have bruises in places that I thought were impossible.

But I knew all the hell and torture is far from over, as my stepmother has more ideas planned in her agenda.

I have no idea if she was actually safe or not but I believe she would one day want to have my kids. Whether or not it's true.

Today, she was out for another business meeting in a foreign country leaving only her butler,  maids, and bodyguards to watch over me.

Once again, I tried to escape but of course, everything is sealed off and there are eyes in every corner leaving no options for a stealthy escape.

However, there were many tools and resources I can utilize thanks to my training in boy scouts as they taught me to be resourceful and I can make do with anything like ropes, tape, lamps, you name it.

Searching around the room, I found the handcuffs from last night, there was a lamp and drawers full of my clothes.

The door was locked but I had an idea as I looked in my closet to find a broken vintage fan, I yanked off one of the metal blades and used it to pry open the door.

Getting outside of my room, and rushed to the security office to avoid detection by the cameras as they rotate periodically.

Knocking on the door, the guard opens up and I ambushed him before going inside to shut off the cameras and security alarms.

Finally, I got to the front entrance when the coast was cleared and got the door opened with no problems but I was caught by one of the bodyguards.

"Mister Bae, please return to your room this instant!" The guard ordered me and I grabbed a vase.

Throwing the vase with all my might, it landed a direct hit on his head causing him to fall on the floor unconscious.

Walking out of this hellhole, I made sure that the tracker was taken off before I left the manor for good.

Finally, I was free from my stepmother and I begin a new life without her always breathing down my neck.

I grabbed some money from her office so I can buy some food and clothing to last me until I find a job.

Taking a taxi to town that is the furthest from the mansion, I stopped in the middle of a city that is unknown to me but I was excited.

When I thought everything is going well for me, I happened to spot a black luxury SUV parked on the curb beside me.

The window rolls down and I was surprised that I had coincidentally been caught by my stepmother and boy she wasn't too pleased to see me here.

"Y/N, get in the car... Right. Now." She coldly ordered me but I sprinted the fuck out of there and ran deep into the crowd where it will be harder to find me.

I can hear the guards chasing after me but I hear the chatter as they were having a difficult time trying to locate me but I was smarter than them.

Going into a clothing store, I bought some clothes and changed into another outfit to blend in with the crowd.

The idea had worked when the bodyguards had walked past me like I was a nobody to them leaving me free from my stepmother's grip.

From that point on, I started a new life without her by working at a big office building as an office clerk.

A few months passed by and so far everything was going great until I had gotten a meeting with a client.

"Hello, you must be Miss Bae, right...?" I asked until I had looked right at the woman making me freeze.

Getting a closer look at her, I realized that Miss Bae, the client I was supposed to meet turned out to be my stepmother.

"Hehe, thought you could get away this time, did you~?" She asked me as she stood up from the chair.

"Well, shit..." I muttered to myself.

#kpop #actress #kpop idol #bxg #x male reader #kpop yandere #bae suzy #miss a suzy #suzy #miss a #step mother

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Four

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5214

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece- He's traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn't except is to meet you, his niece's school teacher who couldn't care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ blog; language, absent parents, abandonment as a child, anxious feelings, mentions of food and drinks, tiredness affecting life, mention of drug use but no actual usage, Dieter working with Sponsor and secular 12 step program, mentions of divorce, Dieter being a cool uncle, I think that everything and like always please let me know if I got anything.

A/N: We survived Chapter 3! It was a doozy of a chapter, but I was loving reading through everyone’s comments!! Starting this chapter, I was super nervous because it was already plotted out, but I was worried if it was going to flow well enough after our big blowup. We get lots of things this chapter though, so I didn’t want to scrap it. Big thank you’s to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a champ beta reader for me, and to @purple-elm for lending her knowledge in recovering/addiction- so appreciate you both. I’m excited for you all to read and can’t wait to hear your thoughts!! PS: reader finally gets her nickname next chapter!! xx

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

They say Rome wasn’t built in a day. 

The same could be said about your relationship with Dieter. 

Relationship?

Friendship?

Acquaintance-ship?

Two people forced into proximity, each attempting to mend their broken, dejected lives— owning their wrong doings through humility and self reflection. 

It had been weeks since the disastrous evening at Diem’s. You wouldn’t say the tension between you and Dieter had gotten better, but you could say it hadn’t gotten any worse. 

You had hoped the fog would have lifted with each passing day, but the more time went on, the guilt of your actions seemed to establish a spot within your mind, replaying each moment in a series of vivid flashes— a torturous occurrence. 

It didn’t help that you and Dieter now crossed paths on a regular basis. Him in your classroom for brief periods to drop off Wren. You at Diem’s place for your girl chats and the random movie nights. 

Each run in was cordial with minimal communication, mainly because you were terrified of saying something wrong, but then it became not knowing what to say at all—so you kept dialogue brief and to the point, never veering too far from your comfortability. 

*

Routines are an integral element to your everyday life. From the minute you wake, your body’s natural response is to begin working through each daily duty without a single thought. 

School mornings unfold in the same manner each day, from the moment you click off your alarm to stopping at the bakery for your breakfast sandwich, your routine has you feeling confident and motivated to tackle any challenges that may arise during the rest of your day. 

Routines work well, until they don’t. 

That first trickle of wakefulness, your hormones performing their cyclic functions, seeping into your listless body. The sound of the birds chirping and morning commuters rushing to their respective destinations has you rolling on your side. You groan at the vague memory of your sleepless night, playback of your fight with Dieter still haunting you in your dreams. 

A few cautious blinks, your eyelids working against the light filtering in from your bedroom window, vision slowly shifting into a clearer image as you focus on the red numbers on display— 

7:30

“Shit!” Your body shoots up into a sitting position, frantically rubbing your eyes in hopes that you had read the time wrong. 

7:31 clicks over. 

You overslept! But your alarm?? You check the little device that’s been your morning comrade for years, mentally berating it for not alerting you, only to discover it’s your own fault— setting the time for 6:30 pm instead of am. 

The first bell rings at 8:00, leaving you 30 minutes to race through getting yourself ready and to school on time to prep for class. 

There’s no wiggle for a shower or taking your time to properly wake up. It’s a mad dash to get dressed, only to find your usually clean and organized closet in a state of distress— clothes half hanging on hangers, mingled piles of clean and dirty clothes and no real distinction of which is what. Your only option is to pull from your weekend wear of very casual and not something you would ever wear to school, except for in times like this— desperate times call for your favorite vintage band tee and distressed jeans. 

A quick wash of your face and a few swipes of mascara before you’re slipping into a pair of your favorite sneakers and dashing to grab a cup of coffee. 

Upon your arrival into the kitchen, you notice that you had also forgotten to set your coffee maker before bed. You try to not let it frustrate you, but the thought of having to endure the day on not only a lack of sleep, but no caffeine as well has you on the verge of tears. 

Your shoulders sag, your head tilting back and eyes closed as a mumbled annoyance bubbles up from your throat. Accepting that you can’t change the outcome for your lousy morning, you lean into your optimistic thinking and wish the rest of the day goes well. You grab your school tote as you head to your car, thankful the drive there from your house is a short one. 

You don’t make a stop at the teachers lounge to say your ‘good mornings’ to the office staff or grab any important papers that might have been slipped into your teacher inbox since yesterday. 

It's a brisk walk through the school halls, avoiding any eye contact with your neighboring teachers, mentally crossing your fingers there’s no mention of your less than appropriate school attire. 

Door unlocked and propped open, a few switches flicked upward triggering the fluorescent overhead lights to flash on, you made it with merely minutes to spare. 

You take a moment to collect yourself, clearing your mind from the morning blunder before you put on your cheerful facade for 20 little humans. 

The classroom is filled with bits of your personality and things that bring you delight. Classic educational posters of shapes, colors, numbers and the alphabet mixed about with various paintings you had done to add more vibrant color to the otherwise boring beige walls. 

There was a small area of wall space next to your desk reserved for artwork that was gifted to you from your students. You allot time every day to share your love for art with them, letting them explore their creativity through drawing and painting. By the end of the week, you would have a nice little collection you would gather to take home to store for safekeeping. 

A few picture frames, a photo of your mom sat beside one of you and Diem from when you were celebrating her signing the purchase of the hotel, teaching tools and organization trays along with a computer all sat neatly on your desk. 

Your most favorite item that lived on your desktop was the little vase you filled every week with fresh flowers from the farmers market. Always a small bundle of poppies assorted colors, depending on the flower vendor. They brought you memories of your childhood, sitting on the front porch as your mom knelt in the soil-beds, planting and sharing her knowledge of plants and flowers alike. You glance at them throughout your school day, a quiet reminder of home. 

You begin to prep for your class, mindful of the fact you still need to unload your paperwork from your bag. A thorough cleaning of the whiteboard, writing out of the day’s assignments and activities, then pulling the read-aloud book of the day. 

As you’re sifting through your notes and paperwork at your desk in the back of your class, arranging in the order of your day’s lesson plan, your students start to wander through the door with vigorous hugs and enthusiastic goodbyes from their parents. 

“Good morning students! Go ahead and grab yourself a book and sit quietly on the floor up front.”

“Good morning!!” Their little voices ring through the room, the sound alone has redeemed the mood of the day. 

A glance at the clock and you have 5 minutes before the bell announces the start of school and the majority of your students are reading quietly. 

“I’m gonna miss Uncle Dude!! Can we still get ice cream after school?”

“Yeah, we can!”

“Yay!”

The conversation between Dieter and Wren grabs your attention as you continue your morning prep. 

Dieter and Wren were usually the last to arrive to class every morning. From your desk you would quietly watch their interaction, him kneeling to her level and her little hands resting on his shoulders— as if she’s the one coaching them through their departure. 

You don’t always catch much of their conversations, even knowing both of them on a personal level outside of your classroom, this brief moment together is reserved for them. 

Giving your agenda one last look and comparing with your lessons, you notice a single paper for the first assignment of the day— there should be a stack of 20 plus one. 

In your frenzy of a morning, it must have slipped your mind to check if any of your lessons needed to be copied and now with literal minutes before the bell you didn’t have enough time to run to the office and back, nor did you have anyone to watch your students while doing so. 

“Ugh! This can’t be happening?!” Thinking out loud your frustration, trying to decide if you can push the lesson off until later in the day or just scrape it all together. 

“You okay?” Dieter’s gruff voice draws you in, it’s honeyed and sincere as it floats through the air.

“Umm, yeah—“ His expression was undemanding as you took him in. His chestnut hair slightly disheveled, but with purpose. The amber of his eyes held your gaze, unequivocal as he surveyed your distress. “Actually, no I’m not. I way over slept, which means I didn’t get a chance to grab any coffee or make copies for this morning’s lesson—“

Ding

The ringing of the bell interrupts the conversation, your students scattering to put books away and await your instruction. 

“Please have a seat on the floor and sit quietly for a moment while I talk with Mr. Bravo.” You announce in your teacher-like voice.

“Go, I’ll watch them.” 

“What?” Your head snapping back over Dieter. 

“Go make your copies. I’ll watch them until you get back.”

“I can’t just leave them alone without a teacher.”

“They won’t be alone, they’ll be with me. Plus, I played a teacher on a tv show once— can’t be that hard doing the actual thing.” 

“I’m going to ignore that last part.”

You’re not sure why Dieter is even offering to help you, you don’t feel like you deserve it— but you really need it and he’s convincing in his own way. 

“Okay— but no mention of this to anyone! Don’t let any of them leave or talk you into anything— they can be very persuasive.”

“We’ll be fine! Go!” He gives your arm a little pat as he smiles, an authentic lopsided toothy grin— it’s been a while since you had seen him genuinely smile. 

Without a second thought, you grab the worksheet and make your way to the printer located across campus in the main building of the school. 

You ignore the questioning looks from the sweet office ladies, they know your presence in the office at this time is out of your usual routine. Thankfully, none of them decide to investigate the matter or mention anything about your attire. 

The giant printer takes its time as it spits out the warm, freshly inked paper into the tray, taking its sweet time. The whirring of the machine drowning out your thoughts of Dieter back in your classroom, hoping the kids aren’t wearing him down.

As you near the classroom door, you’re imagining your students overthrowing authority and running circles around Dieter with him tied to a chair— the imaginary makes you chuckle. 

What you’re met with is anything but a cataclysmic event, it’s far from it actually. You quietly lean against the doorframe, not ready to announce your arrival back, taking in the sight of your students still sitting in their designated spots on the floor as Dieter stands before them animatedly answering questions. 

“Okay, I’ll answer one more.”

“Uncle Dude!!” “Pick me!!” “Uncle Dude, me next” Each student’s hand shooting up at once, they’re little voices vying for his attention. 

“Kid with the funny haircut in the front, hit me with your question.” He says as he points to the kid who had a scissor mishap last week, resulting in a wonky style that he decided was cool enough to wear. 

“Uncle Dude, how much money do you have?”

“Uh, that’s a weird question, kid. Your haircut makes a lot of sense now.”

“Alright students! Time to say goodbye to Uncle Dude.” Pushing yourself forward as you make your way to the front and stand next to Dieter, saving him from any further innocent but invasive questions. 

“Noooooo!” They respond in unison to you cutting off their Q & A time. 

“Well, maybe we can have him come back another time if he’s not busy. Everyone get settled at your desks so we can get started and I’m going to say goodbye to Uncle Dude.”

Once you’ve made it to the back of the class, you wait for Dieter who’s giving Wren one last hug goodbye. 

In this moment you could feel that fog that had still been looming over the both of you, finally starting to burn off. And for the first time, you could picture yourself getting to know Dieter better, instead of wanting to run in the opposite direction of him. 

He catches you staring as he makes way back to where you’re waiting for him by the door. That lopsided smile etched across his face again, this time accompanied with a wink— your stomach spontaneously doing somersaults at his little quirk. 

“So, Uncle Dude?” 

“Mister is way too formal.” 

“Yeah, I guess it kind of is. Um— thanks for doing this for me, I know things between us are not—“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head as he cuts you off before you can really mention how strained things still are between you two. You don’t sense any malice in his response, so you try not to read too much into it. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, or something.” 

“Yeah— yeah. I’ll see you around. Thanks again, Dieter.”

Exchanging goodbyes, you both go your separate ways. 

You are so focused on passing out the freshly printed worksheets to your students, that you don’t catch Dieter standing in the doorway, unmoving as he observes you moving about the room so carefree in your element. 

Once the bell announces the first break for the day, you take the opportunity to head to the teacher’s lounge in search of a snack, realizing you hadn’t eaten breakfast or had any time to pack a lunch before leaving this morning. 

Arriving back to your class, with an orange and water bottle you grabbed, you’re grateful there’s still 10 minutes left of the break, plenty of time to sit and enjoy the quiet. 

You plop yourself down into your chair, eyes closed, taking a moment to breathe and daydream about what you’ll have for dinner. 

Deciding you wasted enough of your break, you set out to eat your orange, when you catch sight of a cup sitting on your desk that wasn’t there earlier. It’s obvious to you that it’s filled with coffee, but how it found its way into your life is beyond you. 

As you pick it up, its contents shift and its rich velvety aroma permeates the air around you. That first cautious sip is heavenly, an instant surge of dopamine the second the bittersweet liquid hits your throat. 

“Mmm.” Not even caring no one can hear your audible enjoyment. 

As you go to place the paper down, you notice black pen marks on the side. Twisting the cup to get a better look, you see a message written knowing immediately who left the coffee. 

You beam at the words and can’t help but think of this as an olive branch extended to you as a gesture of mending open wounds. 

“Let it Gogh. Hope your day gets better! - Uncle Dude”

*

“How did you feel after the fight, for lack of a better word?”

“I was pissed, angry, frustrated— sad.”

“Those are all reasonable reactions. Let’s focus on the sadness you felt. What were you feeling in that moment?”

“I think at first, I was sad that my sister thought so lowly of me— it hurt to hear her agree with this woman who I only just met.”

“Did that sadness change into something else?”

“Yeah— then I was sad at the realization that I had caused my sister so much pain over the years. That I was a selfish asshole— sorry.”

“You’re fine.” 

“That I was a selfish jerk who was so consumed by the chase of the next high and the high itself, that I couldn’t see how it was affecting anyone else around me.”

“Okay. Now, the anger part— do you think that feeling correlates with sadness? Maybe the anger you were feeling wasn’t directed at the right person, that deep down the person you are truly angry with is yourself?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense. I mean yeah I was pissed hearing the crap being said about me— but I guess, if I had been sober like I said I was, these things wouldn’t have been said to begin with.”

“How does that realization feel?”

“It sucks, but it’s the truth.”

“At any point following this argument, did you have the urge to use?”

“No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because, I want to stay clean— prove to myself, and my sister, that I’m stronger than my addiction.”

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that. Now, the goal here is to use your coping strategies to continue to help you when situations like this arise. How do you think you’ll handle things in the future?”

“Continue calling you regularly to stay in check, revisit my 12-Steps, use that 54321 Method, it has been helping me focus, and leaning on friends and family the most.”

“I can email you over a few book suggestions too that helped me get through some dark times if you’d like?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course, Dieter. I'm here to support you however you need it.”

The day following the blow up with you and then Diem giving him some hard truths, Dieter had reached out to the Sponsor he had been working with while in treatment. 

After their conversation, Dieter came to the realization he had no right to be upset with anyone but himself— a hard truth to swallow. 

Every week since then, he calls his Sponsor for a cheek in to review his Steps and see which areas he wants to improve on more until their next session. Afterwards he usually goes for a drive to clear his head before he heads back to Diem’s house. 

Tonight is no different, except when he pulls his car into the driveway, he remembers it’s movie night and he had forgotten to mention to Diem he’d be late to it. He takes a minute to himself, also realizing you would be inside too. 

The moon gives off an understated brilliancy as the silence coated the world around him, unguided thoughts streaming from his subconscious. 

While you both had been around each other and shared minimal words, there was still a tension among the two of you and Dieter wasn’t sure how willing and open you would be to talk to him about it. 

He recalls that one morning at school drop off, you had seemed a little stressed and tired, offering to help you seemed like a great way to initiate a good starting point in mending the situation between you. 

You were receptive, showing no signs of harboring any hatred towards him, a step in the right direction. 

The way you looked at him, sincerity washing over your features, he felt a palpable sense of relief— you must feel the same way. 

He didn’t push for more or beg for a chance to prove to you that he had changed, so he led by action and hoped you would see him, a man who was willing and capable to do the work he needed to make a change in himself. 

Shadowed movements float across the house window, a sign to make his way inside. 

There’s an even placidness when he walks through the door, the muffled sound of the tv hardly detectable as its display radiates a glow throughout the living room space. 

“You missed movie night.” Diem’s voice, barely above a whisper, alerts him to her presence in the kitchen. 

“Sorry. I had a call with my Sponsor then went for a drive— totally slipped my mind that it was tonight.”

“Don’t apologize— But maybe a text next time, so I’m not worrying you’re dead on the side of the road or something.” She joins in the entryway and engulfs him with a hug. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“How’d your call go?”

“Good— It was good. Some days I think I’m strong enough and don’t need to call, that I’m fully prepared to navigate through my shit on my own. And then I realize how dumb that sounds.” He huffs out a single sigh, a hand resting in his jean’s pocket as his other rubs the back of his neck. “But they help, so I keep calling.”

“That’s great.”

“How was the movie?? Wren asleep already?”

“Frozen 2 again, so I guess you really didn’t miss much.”

He already knows Wren spent most of the movie reciting her favorite lines and singing along to every song, she usually convinces them all to join in. 

“They’re still passed out though, I was just getting ready to attempt to put Wren in her bed.” 

He looks to where Diem is pointing, the couch where he hadn’t seen a heap of pillows and what he can only assume is you and Wren sleeping. 

“I’m going to wake them, hopefully Wren will go back down easily. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives a kiss to his cheek before making her way to where Wren is fast asleep in your arms. 

He watches as Diem slowly wakes you while untangling Wren’s little body from your arms, cradling her as if she was still a tiny baby and whispering to her sweet little praises, then disappearing down the hallway. 

A yawn escapes as you stretch from where you’re still sitting on the couch, twisting and pulling, loosening your joints and muscles for your walk home. 

Grabbing your phone and keys from the coffee table, you set out on your journey back to your house, but you’re startled when you nearly bump into Dieter in the middle of the entryway. 

“Easy there.” He steadies you, placing his hands on your upper arms as you find your balance. 

“Sorry, I didn’t even see you there. I must be more tired than I thought. You missed movie night, Wren had to carry most of the songs herself.” You voice is still laced with a small trace of sleep. 

“Yeah, I had an appointment and totally blanked on what day it was. I’ll be here for the next one though.” He notes the way your head tilts a bit when you’re really listening, the way your lips turn up just a tad, not a full smile but enough to convey the sentiment. “It looks good on you.”

“Hmm?” Your brain still muddled and drowsy, confused by his comment. 

“This—“ His hand reached out to you, his fingers flicking at the lapel of his brown fuzzy overcoat. “Looks good on you.”

You look down, realizing what you were wearing, a twinge of embarrassment filters through you. 

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, I forgot I had it on. I had forgotten a sweater and got cold, Wren brought it to me to wear. It was so warm, we fell asleep I guess.” Over explaining the situation as you begin to remove it from your body— he finds it funny that Wren immediately went for his coat before an actual blanket. 

“Keep it— It’s cold out, it will keep you warm on your way home. I’ll get it at some point.”

The fog has lifted, gone— replaced with an airy breeze that swirls in and around the both of you. 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Besides, I’m sure Diem will love not seeing it around for a bit.”

“That explains her eye roll when Wren came running out with it.” 

“Well, I guess this is good night then.” 

“Good night Dieter.”

He opens the door and you make your way out to the front porch, a gust of wind sweeping through has you immediately grateful for his coat. 

When you reach the sidewalk at the end of the driveway, something tells you to turn around. 

There, as if waiting for you to safely make it across the street in the direction of your house, Dieter stands watching. 

You give him a little wave, a final goodbye. 

When he waves back, you sense this might be the start of something new. 

*

Some weekends were extra work days for you, catching up on grading and planning out any projects that you had added to lesson plans last minute. 

There were times when you were caught up on everything, leaving you two full days of no plans or expectations. 

It was a beautiful balmy Saturday, the sun had begun situating itself at its highest point, the perfect day to explore downtown. 

After tending to your little garden, watering and pulling weeds, you had decided to walk down to Bart’s Bookstore to browse their intake of used books. 

Any free time you had, you always wound up at Bart’s, whether it was to pick up your next read or leaf through potential reads on their patio, enjoying an ice cold tea and sandwich. 

The outdoor bookstore was open concept, literally no walls, just a tin roof and shelves displaying their contents in an outdoor setting. While they did have operating hours, they also ran by the honor system if you came and found something after they closed— leave your money, take your book. 

You took your time perusing each shelf, hoping to come across something to replace the novel you had just finished. 

Making your way down another aisle, you spotted a familiar face sitting at a table, Dieter. 

From what you could tell, he was alone, reading but able to make out the title from where you were. 

This was the first time you had run into him outside of your normal setting of school and Diem’s house, not really sure if you just pretend like you didn’t see him or use this as an opportunity to sit and talk with him. 

Your feet decide the latter for you. 

“Dieter?”

He looks up, squinting as his hand attempts to block the sun shining directly in his eyes, that lopsided grin slowly widens at recognizing it’s you standing before him. 

The hem of your sundress billows as the breeze picks up, a small stack of tattered books tucked under your arms, he decides that you look ethereal as the sun drapes its glowing rays around you. 

“Hey! What are you up to?”

“I came to find a new book, just finished my last one.” Glancing down to the books you’re holding, in case he hadn’t seen them. 

“Find anything good?”

“Not sure yet, but they seem promising. You alone?” 

“Yeah, decided to get out for a bit, while Diem and Wren are out shopping. Seemed like the best place to be with this nice weather we’re having.”

You nod in agreement. 

“Would it be okay if I talk to you— if we talk… I mean— if you’re not busy, would it be okay if we talked for a bit?”

“Sure, take a seat.” Gesturing to the open chair across from him. 

Placing the books on the metal table, you sit in the chair, scooting it forward to the table as you find a comfortable position. 

“Thanks. I’ve been wanting to talk with you— I-I’ve just been so nervous and wasn’t really sure you’d even want to talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?” He leans back, a leg crossed over the other with one arm draped over the back of his chair as his forearm of the other rests against the table— his fingers rubbing against each other as he waits for you to share. 

“I’ve been wanting to apologize for what I said— screaming at Wren’s party and telling Diem to not have you stay with her. I should have never—“

“It’s fine. Water under the bridge.” His chestnut locks begin to move about as another breeze moves around, he tucks the loose strands behind his ear. 

“No, I need to apologize— you didn’t deserve how I treated you and I’m ashamed that’s how things went down.” 

“Thank you. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure— yes.”

“Why did you hate me so much? Diem mentioned something about your past— she wouldn’t tell me though.”

Your fingers toy with the edges of one of the books, you take a deep breath and decide to share with him your feelings behind being so harsh towards him. 

“This is going to sound so dumb, but my Dad was an actor— still is? I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in years.”

“Really? I did not expect that.” 

“Yeah. He left when I was little, maybe 3 or so. He had this wild idea that he was destined to be some big time actor, and was going to be famous— the works.” 

“What happened?”

“He never came back. He called every few months, and sent my mom some money. But then the calls just kind of dropped off. After about a year of silence, my mom received divorce papers out of the blue. It was just her and I after that.” You take a minute, glance at him to see if you can get a sense of what he’s thinking— his expression empathetic towards the words you’re saying. 

“So, I grew up with an aversion for anything pertaining to actors and Hollywood. I decided they were all just out to better themselves, leaving their families for a better life.”

Your throat feels dry after baring yourself to him, grateful he gave you the opportunity to share this piece of your life with him in such a raw manner. 

“I’m sorry, about your dad. My parents are in the industry, and while they didn’t outright abandon Diem and I, they weren’t all that active in our lives growing up. I thought I could do it differently though— make it as an actor, but do it better. Upside to having famous parents is it’s a shoe in with getting booked, everyone already wants to work with you because of your name— no one cared if I was any good or not. So I had to work ten times harder just to get some sort of recognition for my acting skills. I think the attention and the fame eventually did get to my head— I lost who I was and why I wanted to become an actor in the first place. The drugs kind of numbed it all, made me think less about how I was hating everything around me and kept me going. And, well we all know how that ended.”

“I’m so sorry Dieter.” Your eyes fixed onto his and you grabbed  for his hand, giving a gentle squeeze, a quiet ‘thank you’ to him for sharing his story with you. 

He turns his hand and reciprocates the gesture, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of your hand. 

“You’ve already seen me at my worst, why not give me a chance at my best.”

Next

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

[cowgurrrl]

Don't Let This Darkness Fool You

Summary: Joel's journey to sobriety [1.1k]

Author's note: idk how i feel about this

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, ANGST, TW ADDICTION, misuse of drugs and alcohol, mention of Sarah's death and Ellie's time in FEDRA school, chronic pain, symptoms of withdrawal, Joel trying to make peace with his past, happy ending

The first time Joel goes to a meeting, he sits in the back and says nothing. He watches person after person get up and talk at the front of the room like it's the easiest thing in the world. He doesn't move. He can barely breathe in the musty church rec room as he listens to their stories and finds pieces of himself in each. The survivor left to carry on when everyone else died or left; the bereaved parent; the ruthless dealer shaking down clients to make ends meet; the addict.

Joel never felt the need to examine his relationship with substances. He drank and smoked and made bad decisions as a teenager and into young adulthood, which is partly how he became a single parent at twenty-two. After Sarah was born, he didn't have the time or energy to party anymore. Sure, he had a beer or two here, but never anything close to a bender. He always had to wake up for work and make sure Sarah got to school on time. He would just be setting himself up for failure if he drank heavily.

Then Sarah died, and nothing mattered anymore. The FEDRA doctor gave him a bottle of painkillers for the stitches on the side of his head, and he never thought twice about it. At first, it was manageable. A drink here, some pills there. His kid had just died. He was allowed to grieve however he wanted to, or that was his reasoning, at least, when it became harder to get under control. He would go from being fine to the throes of withdrawal and back to the hazy stupor that rendered him incapable of function. It was a cycle. One that Tess and Tommy hated, but he was always sober when they needed him to be, or he tried to be.

That entire year spent with Ellie, he was more scared of what would happen if he did touch the stuff than if he didn't. His objective was no longer how fast he could get his next fix. It was how fast he could get Ellie fed or somewhere safe. When they finally settled in Jackson, he felt like he could relax without the help of a neat whiskey or a handful of menacing white pills. He was good. He kicked his nasty little habit that followed him for decades and cold turkey at that. He was fine. Until the trauma from the previous twelve months finally caught up with him.

His back was permanently fucked up from falling off the horse in Colorado. He got horrible headaches, which were probably the result of one too many hits to the head and neck. His wrist clicked in pain every time he moved it too fast, and he couldn't sleep. The Jackson doctor cautiously prescribed him anti-anxiety medication and painkillers. And goddammit, if those little pills didn't make him feel the tiniest bit better. He could feel the spiral start again but was too scared to voice it or ask for help.

It wasn't until that night when he stumbled home drunk and a little high after a patrol shift and found Ellie doing homework at the dinner table. He slurred an apology, and she eyed him like a dangerous stranger when he sat across from her. They got into a fight. Joel doesn't remember what it was about, but he remembers going to bed feeling stone-cold sober even though the alcohol was still thrumming through his veins. In the morning, Ellie admitted that she hated when he drank because it reminded her of the FEDRA soldiers loudly coming home from QZ bars. Drunk men with authority and weapons are enough to scare anyone, let alone a little girl. Joel promised her it would never happen again, and he fully intended to keep his promise, but he'd be lying if he said it was easy to quit.

His hands shook in pain for the first few days, and he constantly felt sick. He was sweaty and irritable and uncomfortable. It didn't help that the other patrolmen would ask him to join them for a drink after patrols. He almost folded once. He was almost over the threshold of the Tipsy Bison before he doubled back and ended up at Tommy's door, crumpling in on himself from pain and withdrawal. It was Tommy who mentioned something about the drug addict's anonymous support group. "I'll even come with ya." His brother offered as he rubbed his back like Joel was a fussy infant instead of a grown man.

So, that's how Joel found himself white-knuckling his way through a DAA meeting with Tommy at his side. Tommy assured him that everything said in the meeting was privileged and couldn't leave the church doors. Joel was safe to say anything, and he would receive support. Still, he was so scared. He just sat and watched. It would take two more months of tears, sleepless nights, and fighting temptation before he found the strength to walk down to the front of the room.

"Hi, my name's Joel and… I'm, uh," he stumbled. "I'm an addict." He shared the bits of his story he felt comfortable sharing, but his hands wrung nervously the whole time. He was waiting for the room to turn on him or for the world to end (again), but it didn't. He said the worst things about himself and everything was… fine. "I just… wanna do better for my," he breathed deeply. "For my Ellie." He awkwardly thanked the group and moved to sit back down when the group leader, a kind-looking woman named Shawna, stopped him.

"How long have you been sober, Joel?" She asked softly, and he cleared his throat.

"'Bout four months, ma'am." He said, and she quickly turned to grab something out of her bag. Before he could ask what she was looking for, she pressed a dented circle into his hand and smiled.

"Now, it ain't as pretty as the ones back in the day, but you should be just as proud." She said before encouraging the group to applaud Joel. He felt silly receiving the praise, but when he sat back down, he couldn't ignore how much better he felt.

He didn't look at what Shawna gave him until after the meeting. He thought it was a personal thing he should see only when alone. He waited until his boots were off and he was comfortable on the couch before fishing the wonky thing out of his pocket and looking at it. It was obviously made from scrap pieces of metal, and the engraving was all wrong, but the words "4 months sober" still made him beam with pride. Joel stared at it for a few minutes before walking upstairs to Ellie's empty room and scribbling a note on her desk.

When Ellie gets home from studying with Dina and Jesse, she finds the coin on her desk beside a note in Joel's blocky handwriting. It reads, "Every single one is for you. It's all for you."

#joel miller angst #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #tlou angst #the last of us angst #the last of us fic #joel and ellie

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Back to black

John Egan X Pilot! Reader

Summary: The relationship of Y/n and Bucky when they're both at their lowest.

Warning: Toxic relationship/ manipulation/ cheating/ mention of sex/ swearing/ use of Y/n/ abuse of alcohol/

Word count: 1.2k

He left no time to regret

Kept his dick wet

With his same old safe bet

Me and my head high

And my tears dry

Get on without my guy.

Their relationship was toxic, they would fight and make-up all the time. Their arguments would always end up with them being naked in the bed. She was a female pilot; he was a pilot too. They were on the same base, so they always saw each other. Some of the other pilots grew tired of them always fighting, but no matter what happened, they’d still be in love with the other, they were addicted to the thrill and the highs and lows of their relationship. It distracted them from the horror they saw all the time, the sex was an occasion to let everything out, it was often raw and real, they tried to get a grip on reality. But when he drank, he could be really mean. Y/n tried to get out of the situation, but she was like a drug addict, always needing more. So, she would cry in her room, her tears represented all the things she couldn’t have with him; a walk in a park, slow dancing together, going on dates and having deep conversations with him. She had to face the fact that the relationship she was in wasn’t the one her mother described, it was the one her father warned her about.

You went back to what you knew

So far removed

From all that we went through

And I tread a troubled track

My odds are stacked

I'll go back to black.

‘’What do you mean you’re going to London?’’ she asked as she looked at him packing his bags. ‘’I need a break from all this, I need to drink, to get out of here!’’ he said, putting his shirt in his bag. He was going to drink in London, getting back to his old coping habit, or he was going to find another woman to have sex with, his ladies-men reputation was well known by the woman. ‘’Right, cause running away is easier than stay and talk about your feelings’’ she chuckled, but it was filled with anger in her voice. He clenched his jaw as she gritted her teeth. There it was, the anger building up in her stomach, she wanted to punch the wall, choke him and hit him, but she contained herself, like always. ‘’I’m going to London, so whatever you say, won’t change my mind’’ he mumbled, with hint of frustration in his voice. Talking to him was useless, he was going to get drunk, probably going to cheat on her, come back with flowers and do it all again. She felt her throat squeeze, she didn’t want to cry in front of him. ‘’Why did I come here, anyway.’’ She whispered. Bucky looked up at her. ‘’Have fun in London, you know where to find me when you come back. Or I’ll probably be rotting in a potato field in Germany, enjoy your weekend, John’’ she said as she slammed his door. The idea of her being dead didn’t sit well in his mind, but he needed to get out of here, he was starting to lose his mind.

We only said goodbye with words

I died a hundred times

You go back to her

And I go back to

I go back to us.

She coiled up against her door, crying again. They had a fight, she looked at the letter in her hands. A woman named Lexie wrote to him; saying how much she enjoyed the night they spent together in London, and it went on with details of their steamy night. He cheated on her many times before, but it was never confirmed, now, to hold a letter, she felt like her heart was shattering with each word she read. Tears fell on the paper as she continued to read it. Bucky could hear her cry when he entered the building, since she was a woman on a base filled with men, her and the other woman had a private building. He knew that she was crying because of him. She thought she was dying, her heart was painful, each breath she took was hurting her lungs, her head was pounding from all the crying. It wasn’t the first time she ‘died’ it happened multiple times before. When he knocked at her door, he didn’t expect her to open it that fast. ‘’What the fuck do you want?’’ she tried to yell, but her voice cracked, showing all the pain she was in. ‘’Darling, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I feel so fucking bad right now, please let me in’’ he pleaded. She didn’t have any energy to fight with him, she let him inside her room, he closed the door, slowly, as he looked at her. She looked so tired, in pain and hurt. ‘’I know you won’t forgive me, and I’ve said it before, but this time, I promise you that I truly fucking mean it, she meant nothing. It’s really hard for me to talk about my feelings, I was about to go crazy, the second I kissed her I regretted it. Y/n, please look at me’’ she didn’t want to hear him, but he sounded so sincere. ‘’How do I know this time is different?’’ she whispered. ‘’I don’t know what to tell you, but I swear on everything I have, I’m going to change, no more messing around, I love you, and I can’t keep hurting you.’’ His eyes filled with tears. ‘’Y/n, I love you and I’m begging you, please you have to believe me, you can ask Buck, I’ve thrown away all my alcohol, and I – ‘’ Y/n cut him off, placing her hands on his. ‘’Just shut up and kiss me’’ she said, her voice filled with pain, again. Bucky kissed her, putting his both hands on her cheek. He tenderly kissed her lips. ‘’I love you so much’’ he praised between kisses.

She didn’t know if that promise was true, but she was going to take whatever he was willing to give, because they needed each other, one couldn’t live without the other. The adrenaline, the love; they craved each other. So whatever he gave her, she was going to take it, or she was going back to black…

#john bucky egan #john egan x reader #major john egan #john egan #john egan imagine #master of the air imagine #master of the air #callum turner #callum turner x reader #Spotify

[mi-i-zori]

When Her Blood Burns

CoD - Krueger x Fem!Medic!OC/Reader (Callsign : Nephilim)

SYNOPSIS : What I think Nephilim and Krueger’s relationship would be like.

WARNINGS : NSFW. Mentions of wounds, violence, blood, death and torture, smut, switch!Krueger and OC/Reader, mention of kinks. Kind of religious metaphors, though they do not indicate any of the character’s beliefs.

I do not give permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

Based on his Reaper skin, as well as other similar attires of his, it’s obvious Krueger doesn’t mind going on a battlefield without any kind of protection for his torso and arms. Just him, and his massive balls I guess.

So my headcanon is that he could be at least a little bit masochistic, and definitely a sadist sometimes. Addicted to the adrenaline flowing from the idea of being injured, in a dangerous environment or in the middle of a certain type of stimulation.

On that note, I also don’t think he would mind his carnal adventures being a little risky too.

So I’m gonna throw him into Nephilim’s life like a goddamn feral raccoon. Always up to no good, enjoying being scolded when the pretty medic patches him up after inevitably getting injured in one way or another. Focusing on her soft, steady whispers as she comforts the injured soldiers and civilians who end up in her care ; coming up with fascinating stories whenever she needs to soothe the minds of the terrified children she holds in her arms after saving them from the wicked hands of the terrorists she and her group are trying to destroy. He is shameless when it comes to flirting, drinking up the tiniest reactions that slip through her tough façade. Loving the way she sometimes allows herself to actually be shy in front of him.

He takes the time to slowly unravel the web she hides behind as he holds her flushed skin against his. He drinks every noise flying past her lips, hands holding her hips and breasts in a bruising grip - grunting and growling as he pounds into her. The feeling of his teeth sinking into her shoulders sends her over the edge, pleasured tears dripping down her face and nails tearing through his arms. Waves of scorching heat never fail to rise from every touch they share, burning flesh and mind as their climax drips between them like lava flooding an endless valley, filled with their most primal wilderness.

As he watches her struggle to catch her breath afterwards, pressing corrosive kisses down her spine and slowly descending from his own high, Krueger thinks he could not have found a prettiest angel.

Yet those thoughts come to a screeching halt once he actually witnesses first-hand the real reason behind her callsign. When he sees her fly through the ruins littering the battlefield, all bloodied and bruised, leaving a trail of utter destruction in her wake. Her curses rise like a storm as she tries to maintain everyone in one piece, the emergency medical supplies working flawlessly in her dexterous hands. She doesn’t hesitate when it comes to dragging the enemy soldiers’ names and faces in the dirt, tearing their own supplies from their soon-to-be cold carcasses whenever she can.

Krueger shivers madly when he sees her bring the most cold-hearted war veteran to shame during an interrogation, making her targets whimper and beg before filling their very souls with lead. The burning wisps of her cigarettes light her blood-soaked fingers with each drag, a cold breeze whisking the smoke away from her lips as soon as they part, frozen eyes staring into the night before meeting his.

An Angel and a Demon live in harmony behind the humanity of her mesmerising features. Should any of the Sacred Texts hold even the slightest ounce of truth, he might indeed be the only man to taste the flesh of a Nephilim, at least since the first Divine Purge. The first mortal to savour this rare kind of danger multiple times and come out of it as unscathed as one can be.

It makes him wish he was in her enemies’ place as he watches her with a new kind of interest, lust rippling through every single one of his muscles.

And he does ends up being in their place, in a way, once she really gets more confident with him and their relationship. He realises the façade was not always a fluke when she forces him to kneel, not budging under his touches - for she’s in a bad mood tonight, and it’s finally time she let go of her own chains. He acts like a brat when she digs her nails into his skin into a series of scorching touches while restraining his hands, smirking and not uttering a single sound. Until he can’t take it anymore. Her scent is too tempting behind the blindfold, her touches too mesmerising, her voice too hypnotising.

She takes advantage of his heightened senses, turning his own little tricks against him. Whispering honeyed threats in his ears, pressing her bare self against his back, hands wandering up and down his body without ever going where he wants them to be.

He’s never been so hard.

And he cracks, savouring her coos as he pleads and begs, fighting against his restraints. Whimpering when she finally goes down on him, only to deny him his release. Stimulating him far beyond his limits like he has done countless times to her, biting his lips until blood floods from under his teeth. She licks it up, the flavours of his skin, sweat and blood mixing with the taste of her lips as she kisses him, riding him feverishly until there nothing left of them but groans, moans and pants - whimpers, cries and thundering heartbeats. Rendering them both as brainless as one can be.

After this, Krueger realises that, as dominant as he likes to be, he may or may not have a huge mommy kink.

#oc : nephilim #cod x oc #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x oc #cod x reader #x reader #call of duty x reader #fem!reader #cod oc #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw3 #cod krueger #sebastian krueger x reader #sebastian krueger x oc #sebastian krueger #krueger x oc #krueger x reader