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#the flickering of the lights just before the reveal of the art
sleep-deprivedracoon · 6 months
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Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! reader
word count: 3680 Summary: Satoru doing his best to get you out of your downward spiral. He failed Suguru but he won't fail you. Author's note: based on this prompt. I think I speak for most of the fandom when I say we all need some extra fluff and love from Gojo after the week we've had with the anime and manga. So this one is for all of us Gojo wives. Ngl, I am literally shaking right now as I dare to post this. I don't know if y'all will like this or if this just flops. CW: depression, food habits, angst, implied relationships, patterns of isolation, fluff, angst to comfort, helplessness, mentions of smoking
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Satoru Gojo stood before your door, an unusual sense of foreboding gnawing at the edges of his normally self-assured demeanor. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, one that clashed against the confident façade he typically wore like armor. He couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something was terribly wrong with you, something that went far beyond the physical injuries. It had been weeks since you returned from that mission, and something had changed in you—It was as if something was tearing you apart from the inside.
He'd delved into the mission reports, scouring through the details, looking for any signs of what might have transpired. The mission had been a success, technically flawless, with only a handful of unfortunate bystanders caught in the crossfire. You'd managed to take down a first-grade curse with no fatalities—by all accounts, it should have been considered a triumph. So why had it left you so shattered?
As the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side, his sharp eyes caught the flicker of a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.
Your smile, once a beacon of light that never failed to brighten his day, now seemed a mere shadow of its former self. It was as though the spark within you had dimmed, leaving behind an empty echo of what used to be.
"Toru," you greeted, your voice a little too forced, a little too brittle.
Gojo pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation he couldn't quite put into words. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that had become second nature to him, a silent declaration of affection. “Hi, sweets.” he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.
As he held you, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, that the ground beneath him was unstable. He hoped beyond hope that he was merely overthinking, that you were stronger than he feared. But deep down, he knew. He knew something was fundamentally wrong.
You gently pulled away, and he followed you into your apartment, his senses immediately assaulted by the disarray that greeted him. Sure, you were a chaotic person, but there was usually an organized chaos to your living space. Books strewn haphazardly on shelves, art supplies scattered on tables, and the comforting scent of incense in the air—all elements of your usual environment. The chaos was familiar, a reflection of your vibrant, unpredictable personality. But this... this was different. There was an air of neglect, a sense that even your usual disorder had lost its usual rhythm. He took in the scene—the scattered papers, the toppled books, the forgotten articles of clothing strewn across the floor. Each item seemed to whisper a tale of neglect; a story of a mind too preoccupied to care for its surroundings. He saw the remnants of a once vibrant spirit, now muted and worn.
He followed you into the kitchen, concern etched into his features. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.
You mumbled a half-hearted "yes," but he wasn't fooled. He opened your fridge to place a few drinks, and his heart sank at the sight. It hadn't been stocked in a while; the shelves almost barren. It was a stark contrast to the usual assortment of ingredients and snacks he was accustomed to stealing. He glanced at you, silently noting the tired lines etching your face, the weariness in your eyes that belied your attempt at a smile
You stood beside him, trying to deflect his concern with a forced smile and a weak excuse. "I've been lazy, just ordering takeout."
He glanced at the trash can, noting its emptiness. He saw right through the lie, but he didn't push it. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, taking in the disheveled state of your hair, the dullness in your eyes, the weight loss that had left you looking frail. It was a familiar dance—one he had witnessed before, with someone else he had cared for deeply. That smile you offered him, that empty, hollow smile with closed eyes, it hit him like a tidal wave of dread. It reminded Gojo of Suguru after Amanai's death—their once lively friend reduced to a mere shell, hiding behind a facade. The parallels between you and Suguru's descent sent a shiver down his spine.
The weight of helplessness settled like a leaden anchor in Satoru Gojo's chest. He cursed inwardly, the bitter taste of regret mingling with the dread that had consumed him. How was it happening again? Why was it always the ones he cared for the most? The memory of Suguru, his once-vibrant friend reduced to a mere shadow of himself, haunted him. He had failed Suguru, and that failure still weighed heavily on him.
The mantra of his own strength echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. He was the strongest, but in this moment, he felt powerless. Weak. Useless. Helpless. As you stood before him, offering a smile that barely masked the turmoil within, you felt so distant, so far away. It was as though an impenetrable barrier had risen between the two of you.
It had started weeks ago, with your return from that fateful mission. Even then, something had felt off. You had been fatigued, weary, and Gojo had been there for you, trying to help you unwind and recharge. But you barely spoke of the mission, your words guarded, your gaze distant. In the ensuing weeks, he had watched as you withdrew, not just from him, but from their students. He noticed how you declined Nobara’s invites to go shopping, how the playful banter with Megumi had all but disappeared. Even your calls with Yuta who was overseas had become brief, the once-lively conversations now reduced to strained exchanges.
He caught a whiff of smoke around you one evening, a scent that hung in the air like a lingering secret. He knew then, without needing to ask, that you had turned to cigarettes for solace. There were signs, always signs. The subtle shifts in behavior, the hollow looks, the moments of silence that stretched on longer than they should. But he had chosen to give you space, believing that time would allow you to heal and find your way back. It was a mistake, one he deeply regretted now as he saw the signs he had missed piling up.
Gojo's gaze settled on you once more, his heart heavy with concern. You had lost weight, your eyes dulled, your once-lustrous hair now a tangled mess. It was as though a part of you had withered away, leaving behind a hollow shell. The pain in his chest intensified as he realized that he couldn't afford to stand by and watch you slip away. He had to act, to break through the barrier you had unknowingly erected around yourself. But how? That was the question that haunted him as he searched your eyes for a way to reach you, to pull you back from the abyss you seemed to be falling into.
He turned to you, his eyes tracing the weariness etched into your features, the fragility in your frame. "Sweets," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of concern and determination. "We can't keep going on like this. You don't have to face this alone.”
As Gojo's concerned gaze bore into you, he couldn't help but notice the immediate defensiveness in your body language. Your chuckle, dry and forced, cut through the air like a fragile attempt to push his worries away. "I'm okay, Toru," you insisted, your voice wavering just slightly.
"(Y/n) …" he urged; his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to pretend with me. I can see that something's eating at you. You can rely on me, you know that, right? I'm here to shoulder whatever burdens you're carrying."
You met his gaze, eyes guarded, and shook your head, a hint of stubbornness in your expression. "Toru, really, I appreciate it, but I'm okay. You're worrying unnecessarily.”
You remained closed off, a wall of resistance that he couldn't breach. Your insistence that everything was fine felt like a dagger to his heart, but he understood that pushing you further at this moment could risk you shutting him out completely and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.
So, he accepted your words, even as they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Alright, sweets. Just remember, I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."
Ordering takeout seemed like the most rational thing to do, a glimmer of normalcy in the midst of the storm. He chose a spicy Chow Mein with Gyoza on the side, knowing it was a combination that never failed to put a smile on your face. As the two of you sat in silence, he couldn't help but notice how you toyed with your food, pushing it around on the plate rather than really eating.
He teased gently, "You know, you're starting to remind me of a kid being forced to eat their vegetables. Come on, at least take a few bites for me."
You glanced up, a faint glimmer of amusement in your eyes, and complied, taking a few bites to prove a point. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It was through these small steps, he realized, that he needed to slowly guide you back from the darkness that threatened to consume you.
After dinner, he bid you farewell, his footsteps heavy as he walked away from your apartment. Once out of your sight, he clutched his hair in frustration, a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him. He couldn't bear to see you like this, not again. He couldn't let another person he cared for slip into the abyss.
With a determined exhale, he removed his shades and reached for the black blindfold that he rarely wore when it was just the two of you. He tied it securely and looked back at the window to your apartment. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't let you slip away. He would fight for you, even if it meant stepping into the darkness alongside you.
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In the days that followed, Gojo remained steadfast in his determination to pull you out of the suffocating depths of depression that had ensnared you. He knew he couldn't do it alone, and admitting that fact was a monumental step for someone as self-reliant as him. It surprised even Shoko, who had known Gojo for years, to witness his newfound vulnerability.
He started with small, manageable gestures, well aware that overwhelming you would only push you further away. Slowly, he began to tidy up your apartment, one step at a time. He organized the scattered papers, straightened the toppled books, and restored a sense of order to the chaos that had overtaken the space. He did it in small iterations, so as to not catch you off guard.  He knew that even the semblance of cleanliness and organization could bring a sense of calm. Another day, he arrived with a bag of groceries, quietly slipping into your kitchen to prepare a meal. At times, he found himself sneaking food into you, taking advantage of moments when your mind wandered elsewhere. He'd feed you, offering fruits and treats while you mindlessly chewed on it, lost in thought. It was a silent promise that he was there to support you, to ensure you took care of yourself.
Then came the day he dragged you out, insisting that you join him and his students for a shopping excursion. It was an attempt to remind you that there was still joy and fun to be had, even in the midst of the world's worries. He made sure to bring his students along, Yuji and Nobara, who shared a single brain cell with their hairbrained schemes, and Megumi, who often found himself the target of their antics. As you wandered through the bustling market, you couldn't help but be drawn into the silliness that surrounded you. Yuji and Nobara's playful banter, Megumi's exasperation, and the way his students relied on you for the silliest of things slowly began to chip away at the darkness within you. There were moments when you couldn't help but smile, caught up in the absurdity of it all. Watching Yuji and Nobara embark on their ridiculous plans, seeing Megumi squirm in embarrassment, witnessing the camaraderie among his students—it all served as a poignant reminder that life held moments of levity, even in its darkest corners. Gojo reveled in these small victories, each one a testament to your gradual recovery. His approach was slow and deliberate, mixing moments of genuine concern with his signature goofiness.
"Hey, sweets," Gojo said, nudging you playfully as Yuji and Nobara attempted to outdo each other with their ridiculous purchases. "You see what I have to deal with every day? They're a handful. Why do I always end up taking care of brats?” He sighed in exaggeration.
The sound of your giggle was a melody that resonated in the depths of Satoru Gojo's being. He couldn't help but be drawn to the warmth in your laughter, a glimmer of the vibrant spirit that still lived within you. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, a gentle caress that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He leaned into the touch, his heart leaping at the connection.
"You know," you teased, patting his cheek affectionately, "you adopted these brats yourself. You're such a mother hen, Toru."
His lips curled into a playful smirk. "Well, what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for the misfits." He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "And I'm glad that this mother hen has you as my favorite rooster to come back to whenever I need a break from these rascals."
Your laughter, though still fragile, filled the room, a welcome sound that eased the weight in his heart. He was getting closer, step by step, to uncovering the vibrant spirit that resided within you.
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Several days later, the Tokyo Jujutsu High planned a retreat to an Onsen resort in Gunma. The students shared rooms, and Gojo, in his usual annoying fashion, had managed to finagle Yaga into assigning you to share a room with him. After all, you were both teachers and adults—it shouldn't have been a problem.
Gojo sat on the tatami floor of your room, dressed in a yukata, having just returned from the baths. He sipped on cold coffee milk, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere of the traditional inn. When he heard the sliding door open, he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. You looked ethereal in the Yukata, the fabric draping gracefully over your form. Your hair was still damp from the baths, strands clinging to your skin in a way that made his heart race. There was a newfound fullness to your cheeks, a healthy flush to your complexion that spoke of progress.
In that moment, he realized just how far you had come. The bags under your eyes were still there, but the overall transformation was striking. He clicked his tongue several times, pulling you gently to the tatami floor in front of him. He reached for the towel that hung around your shoulders and scolded you gently, "Sweets, you need to dry your hair properly. You'll catch a cold like this."
His fingers moved through your hair with a soothing touch, the room enveloped in silence save for the rustle of fabric and the soft hum of the night outside. He was meticulous, his actions deliberate as he dried your hair strand by strand. As he continued to pat your hair dry with gentle strokes, he noticed that you were trembling. Frowning, he stopped, his concern growing. And then he heard it—the soft, muffled sniffle that escaped your lips. In an instant, he turned you around to face him, his eyes widening as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes.
Before he could say a word, you began sobbing, your shoulders shaking with the force of your emotions. You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn't brush away your tears or offer empty reassurances. Instead, he let you cry, allowing the dam you had built around your emotions to finally break. He could feel the warmth of your tears soaking through his yukata, the shudders that racked your body, and the tremble of your hands as they clung to his robes. It was a raw, vulnerable moment, and he was there to bear witness to it, to share in your pain and offer his silent support. Gojo's touch was gentle, his hand stroking your back in a steady, rhythmic motion. He didn't speak, understanding that this moment was about you and your release. His heart ached with each anguished sob that wracked your body, but he remained a steadfast anchor, giving you the space you needed to let it all out.
As your sobs began to subside, your words spilled out in a torrent of emotion. You spoke of the mission, of how it had torn open old wounds, making you confront shadows from your past. The cursed technique of the first-grade curse had exploited your own memories, forcing you to relive the pain and uncertainty.
Gojo had been privy to your painful past, as you had confided in him long ago. He understood the emotional scars that had marked your journey, and now, he could see why you were descending into darkness.
Your voice trembled as you confessed your fear. You longed to return to the person you used to be, but you were terrified that you had lost yourself in the process. The fear that in losing yourself, you might also lose him gripped at your heart.
Gently, Gojo cupped your cheek, his sky-blue eyes locking onto yours. He removed his shades, allowing you to see the sincerity in his gaze. "No matter what version of yourself you present to me," he said, his voice soft but resolute, "I will love you. Whether you're happy, sad, angry, or anything in between, it doesn't change a thing. If you somehow turned evil, I'd love you. If you don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore, I’d love you. Even if you transformed into a worm, I'd love you. I will love every version of you that has been and that is yet to come, (Y/n). " He couldn't help but inject a touch of his signature playfulness into the moment. "Well, unless you turn into Gakuganji," he added with a mock shudder, "then you might be pushing it. But hey, I'll even love you if you morph into that old fart. Just… just don't test me on that one." He kisses your trembling lips gently. “I don’t think my heart could handle that.”
A small giggle burst from your lips, and you playfully swatted his arm, the sound like a gentle chime amidst your tears. It was a moment of relief, a brief respite from the weight of your emotions. Gojo couldn't help but chuckle in response, his grin boyish and goofy. “I will always love you (Y/n). Even if you lose yourself, I will walk with you to help you rediscover yourself. I am great at helping people find things. These six eyes are here for a reason, you know?”
You gently shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to kiss Satoru Gojo on his lips, your gratitude and affection evident in the tender gesture. "Thank you," you whispered against his lips, "for being you."
His lips curved into a soft smile as he returned your kiss, savoring the warmth of your affection. "It's been my pleasure, (Y/n)," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “After all, nobody is best at being Gojo Satoru other than Satoru Gojo himself.” He winks.
You continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know what you've been doing, Toru. All these days, you’ve been taking care of me, helping me even if I didn't want to admit it to myself. But I needed it, and I needed you."
Gojo's eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "If the roles were reversed, you would've done a far better and more efficient job," he admitted, a hint of shame coloring his voice. "I should've seen it sooner, (Y/n)."
You silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips, his mock pout making you smile. "Don't blame yourself, Toru," you murmured. "I didn't want you to find out, and it's not your fault. I feel lighter now than I have in days, although I am still struggling to cope.”
In response, Gojo spoke with unwavering determination, "I'll be here beside you, sweets. However you want and in whatever form you need.
“Whatever I need huh?” A wistful smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe turning myself into Gakuganji would help," you mused, a playful glint in your eyes. “won’t it, Toru?”
Gojo groaned dramatically, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His fingers danced along your sides and ribs, eliciting giggles and laughter from you as you squirmed beneath his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. His fingers attacked your sides and belly, evoking peals of laughter from you. The tatami floor beneath you seemed to come alive with the sounds of your giggles and Gojo's playful laughter. As he tickled you mercilessly, Gojo's thoughts were clear—he would do anything to keep that light in your eyes, to see you smile, even if it meant turning into Gakuganji himself. Anything at all. And with every joyful laugh that filled the room, he knew he was one step closer to bringing you back to him.
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Taglist - @hiraethsdesires Note to @hiraethsdesires: thank you, Hira. I thought I'd never be able to get back into writing again. I thought I had lost it. But it felt so nice to dive right into this again. The first character I had ever written for in this blog was Gojo. It feels just right to get back into it with him again.
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acidsoju · 16 days
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MUSE II
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(muse part one here)
genre: romance, college life, slice of life, some fluff, smut pairing: poetry major! soobin x art major! reader Warnings: nsfw, dom soobin, sub reader, unprotected sex, public sex, oral (f. receiving) word count: 5k summary: if soobin had been a sorce of inspiration to your painting, why couldn't you also be one to his writing?
“Roses are red. Violets are blue. What the fuck I’m supposed to do?”
“Ah, yes, that’s my favorite so far.”
Soobin rolled his eyes, crashing the little paper in his hand and throwing it somewhere around his room. In his swivel chair, he turned to look at his friend laying in his bed while playing on his cellphone, not listening to him anymore and barely answering the same ‘that’s good’, ‘oh, I like that one better’ sentences everytime Soobin came with a new idea.
“Shouldn’t you be rehearsing or something?” That finally caught the attention of his friend who, after taking a look at the time in his screen, gasped loudly. Taehyun grabbed his stuff as quickly as he could and stormed out of Soobin’s house after screaming around:
“See ya, Soob! Good luck with your thingy!”
Now Soobin was alone with his own thoughts in his room; his floor covered in his failed writing attempts. He leaned his head against the chair’s back, his hair swiftly falling to the sides of his face. Like a drummer, he twirled unstoppably the pencil in his fingers while trying to organized the ideas rushing throught his mind.
After winning last year’s poetry contest, he didn’t feel the necessity of trying again; but that changed after this year’s prize was revealed; a full year scholarship? He was on. But it seemed like the harder he tried, the harder it became to actually write something that wasn’t a full of crap.
Soobin still had a month to write and submit his poem, so he found himself staying till late hours in the uni’s library, reading how many hours long from Homer to Shakespeare to Komachi and then Dickinson; Soobin immersed in his big literaly world.
“We’re closing soon, son. You should go back home.” The old and sweet librarian would tell him, snapping him out of his world when the nights arrived.
One specifically night, he found himself roaming around the various departments in college, enjoying the strange atmosphere it created the night in the place. He felt such an outsider in such a familiar place to him. The sound of his footsteps died when he saw light coming from a classroom and he walked slower, trying not to make any sound in case it was, you know, a serial killer.
Avoiding making sound wasn’t really necessary as you had your earphones on, blocking any sound from outside. You sat down on a wooden stool facing a canva two heads bigger than you, your hand holding up the brush and and brushtrocking on it, plastering life into it. It wasn’t done but Soobin could tell you were working on some sea details at the moment.
He stayed crouched down peeking from the door longer than he thought, but he found himself mesmerized. It hadn’t been that long of a time since you two met but still, after that night he stood over at your place, you two had not talked again due to your busy, overwhelming university lives. Memories from that night with you came to his mind making his breath hitched.
He analyzed the scene in front of him some more; from your tired yet focused eyes, to the hand holding the palette in which you would mix some colors; your own clothes had stains of paint in some random places, some were still fresh and some looked old so Soobin assumed you used that specific overall anytime you’d paint.
Your hand stopped and Soobin hid himself just in time before you looked to the door. The hall was dark. Just what time was it? You didn’t know and your phone was still in your bag, but from the window you saw the stars of the night sky and decided it was time to go back home. Your eyes flickered to the door once more when you thought you heard some footsteps, but since you had your earphones on you assumed it was nothing and carried on.
Soobin rushed down the hall to the art department’s entrance, almost running. His heart beating loudly against his chest after almost being caught. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you but he would prefer if you didn’t catch him practically spying on you.
The very next day Soobin found himself walking down the art’s department again, curiously wondering if you’d be there again too. And you were; on the same clothes, with your earphones on humming along to the song while painting. This became of Soobin’s little routine after his actual routine in the library but it didn’t last long since one night when he had peeked to look into the classroom, he had seen no one.
The big half-done canva was there though and as his eyes went from the glistening sea to the bag on the floor, his heart started beating anxiously against his chest. He was about to leave when he heard the clear sound of footsteps stopping just behind him; he suddenly felt like he was about to die in a horror movie and when you towered over him and poke your head form his side, he couldn’t help but shrieked.
Next thing he heard was your loud laughter. He fell on his butt and tried to calm his anxious heart, feeling the back of his neck burning up. Your shoes appeared in front of him and he looked up at your figure; you smirked down at him, an eyebrow arched and your arms crossed in front of your chest.
“Well, I haven’t seen you around lately.” Soobin laughed awkwardly at your remark and stood up enjoying the way you had to tilt your head up to keep looking at him in the eyes. He had to admit that looking at you from a distance and from up a close were two completely different things. His eyes faltered for milliseconds to your lips.
“So…” He mumbled scratching the back of his head with his hand and trying to pull his best innocent smile, making his dimple show specially for you. “This is not what it looks like?” He didn’t sound convinced at all which made you snort. “Really! I just happened to be here and didn’t except anyone else to be here… I didn’t expect you to be here.” Wow, was he always this good of a liar?
You narrowed your eyes at him and ended up shrugging, deciding that there was no reason to believe he was lying and, after all, you both did go to the same college.
“Okay then, it was nice seeing you again.” You lazily smiled at him before walking into the classroom again, putting a sudden end to your meeting. Soobin blinked at the space you were just a second ago and without too much thinking, he followed you in. While you took your usual seat, he walked closer and stopped behind you looking at the beautiful painting in front of him. You silently gulped feeling the warm of his body radiating on your back and picked up the palette and brush, hoping the slight shake of your fingers would pass unnoticed.
“You really are talented.” He complimented nodding his head while looking at you inching closer to the canva, some lose strands of hair falling to the front of your head because of the sudden movement.
When his hand reached out and put the little hairs behind your ear, you flinched surprised at the sudden contact. His hand lingered in the spot just a moment before tracing his fingertips down your neck. You closed your eyes, enjoying his sweet caress.
“It was nice seeing you too.” He whispered in your ear, now his body towering over yours.
It was safe to say that that night Soobin couldn’t stop thinking about you; while deprived of sleep, he started writing down every thought that came to his mind while you flooded every space in his head. He didn’t realized when he fell asleep, head resting down on his desk and with half a paper written thanks to you.
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Knock knock. You turned your head towards the door to where the tall, pretty boy stood, gently leaning on against the door frame, a coyly smile for you. You nodded in his direction, greeting him with a small smile on your lips while your eyes told everything in your place: ‘what are you doing here?’ Soobin caught that; still he walked in and placed down his bag on a table. He sat down and took out some things from his bag.
You cleared your throat. “Did you need anything?”
“Oh, I can’t be here?” He tilted his head.
“I don’t really mind… But why are you here?”
“I’m participating in this year’s poetry contest.”
You hummed nodding your head, turning around in your seat to look properly at him. Did he wear glasses before? This was the first time you noticed them. It suited him really good. He didn’t say anything else to you and instead focused all his attention down on his notepad, nibbling down on his pencil.
Just when you turned back to the canva, he lifted his eyes and grinned, trying to suppress his smile from growing bigger.
Truth was, you didn’t really mind sharing the classroom with other people. After all, you had your earphones with you just in case you needed to block anything that could bother you from the little world you were creating. Still, you didn’t really expect to feel the burning of his stare from time to time on your back. So nervewrecking.
Long hours passed day by day where the two of you were sharing a common silence. Only making small talks from time to time when Soobin would feel his head clouded or when you would start getting annoyed at some failed attempts.
As more time you spent together, Soobin started noticing more things about you; the way you’d block him from your own world completely, humming quietly to whatever came to your mind and sometimes even muttering things to yourself which he found kind of cute; or the way you’d massage your back after long hours of painting; how you’d rubbed your temples while sighting or the quick glances you’d steal from him when you thought he wouldn’t noticed.
Oh, did he not noticed all those times you’d look at him with your pretty eyes?
He could notice from the corner of his eyes when you’d turn, pretending to stretch and look outside through the window, how your eyes would trail to him and lingered on himself. He had ended up hurting the inside of his cheek after so much biting to suppress his grinning. And from time to time he’d lift his gaze, caughting you staring at him and enjoying the red in your ears.
“Pretty.”
You were startled when he suddenly talked standing behind you, interrupting the unspoken pact of silence between both.  When had he gotten so close? You tilted your head and looked up at him as he towered over yourself to peek closer at your work. The back of your head hit his low abdomen and that made him look down, a smile spreading in his face that made your cheeks burn up. His hands placed on each side of your face and his thumbs gently rubbed your red cheeks.
“So pretty.” He mumbled and from the look in his eyes you were sure he wasn’t talking about your painting. His eyes moved to your lips, his index finger tracing the corner of your mouth while his own lips slightly parted open. You thought he was going to kiss you and you really wanted him to, but you felt your heart sank in your chest when he pressed his pretty lips into a smile, looking back up at your eyes and let go the hold in your face.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You got up dropping your brush and palette to the floor and turned to him; he could barely react when you grabbed the collar of his shirt in your fist and pulled him down to your height, crashing your lips against his. You kissed him hungerly, melting at the sweet taste of his lips, before parting away from him and looking at his eyes still covered in shock. You felt your ears burning up, but still managed to talk. “Well, you don’t have to look that surprised.”
He chucked, getting out of the sudden shock and his hands grabbed your hips, pressing you against him. Yeah sure, he had played just a little with you trying to get a good reaction from you, but this? He couldn’t imagine you’d react like this and, being completely honest, he loved it.
Soobin hummed delighted when you closed the distance between your lips again, your hands sliding to the back of his neck, tugging at his soft hair. Soon your back was pressed against the cold wall of the classroom, sending shivers down your spin. You felt the hardness of Soobin’s cloth dick rubbing against your tight as his hips started bucking up, making you gasp softly against his mouth, his tongue meeting yours at your sudden open mouth.
His hands moved down to grab your ass, rubbing harder against you before lifting you up easily to match his height, pressing your against the wall. Your legs rounded his waist and pressed him impossibly closer to you, your core aching while he rubbed up his still clothed, hard cock against you, barely being able to relief some ache. Breaking the kiss, Soobin started leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your ear, licking experimentally and moaning against it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; he moaned so fucking prettily.
“Fuck baby, I missed you so bad,” he whined, slowing down the movements in his hips while locking his lips with yours again, his tongue against yours owning every inch of your mouth. His grip on your loosened before he placing you back down on your own feet. As soon as you stood on your own, he fell down on his knees looking up at you with pleadingly eyes, his hands caressing and squeezing your tights. “let me show you how much I have missed you, mmh?”
“Wa-wait” You gasped at the cold air hitting your skin when Soobin pulled down your overall pants to your ankles, leaving you exposed only with your panties and shirt in front of him. His long, slender middle finger slid against the wet cloth between your legs and you sighed, trying to press togheter your thighs. Soobin gave you an annoyed look and clicked his tongue before grabbing and putting over his shoulder one of your legs exposing you more to him, after throwing away your overall to a corner in the room.
“You’re so wet baby, did you miss me too?” He mumbled sliding your panties to a side and caressing your wet folds with his index finger. Your hips buckled and that made him chuckle. “Eager?” He got his face closer to your core, his breath hitting against your bare skin and kissed softly your clit, again making you flinch. “Want me to eat you up?”
“Soobin, hurry." You whined not liking his teasing at all. He obliged and pulled down your underwear, his eyes never leaving yours before he closed his mouth against your aching hole. Both of you groaned at the same time; Soobin at your such delicious taste, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and you at the way the man on his knees eat you up so good. "Mmh- agh, Soobin, s'good."
All the moans that came from your pretty-self went directly to his aching cock. He switched places with his mouth from your folds to your abandoned clit while inserting easily a finger and then two in you, in and out faster every time. You covered your mouth with a hand, biting down ignoring the fact that you were going to leave some marks on your skin, trying to appease all the noise that scaped uncontrollably from you.
Soobin groaned against you when you started grinding your pussy against his face, matching the pace of his fingers fucking into you. You were so close; you looked down and moaned at the beautiful image of the man eating you out so deliciously, cumming on his fingers. He switched againt his fingers for his mouth and rode you through your climax, hearing the sweet whimpers from your overstimulated self.
"Sob-soobin---fuck."
Your knees trembled and he helped you steady yourself up, putting down your leg and holding you tight by your waist. Soobin crashed his mouth against you making sure you'd taste yourself and started unbuckling his pants. He grabbed your hand and put it right over his hard dick, eyes piercing through you after pulling apart from your mouth.
“Feel that?” He questioned you, grinding against your hand while your eyes glued to his pretty swollen lips. “You make me so fucking hard, baby- god.”
“Soobin, please.” You whined; he smirked loving the way you’d say his name.
“Please what, princess? Say what you want.” You started rubbing your tights together, trying to relieve the aching between your legs.
“Need you to fuck me right now.”
Just as you said that Soobin pulled down his boxers, his hard, fat dick sticking up to his abdomen, the tip shiny from the pre-cum. You bit your lip; you wanted to eat him up so badly. But when he noticed the intention you had to get on your knees, he stopped you grabbing your hips harder, his dick trapped in between the two bodies.
“Where do you think you’re going? Thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He tilted his head and rose an eyebrow; you opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off. “I wanna pound so hard into you, baby so turn around and lift your pretty ass for me, okay?”
Soobin watched you turned to face the hall, putting your ass in full display for him, his hand wanking on his member, a soft gasp living his lips at the godly sight. He pressed his dick against your ass teasingly, grabbing your hips and pressing them against him. After some pleading from your part that had his cock twitching, he positioned the tip against your wet, so hot, entrance and planted a kiss on your back before pushing forward into you; his mouth forming a ‘o’ and a groan erupting from down his throat as you clenched around him, taking him so well.
“So tight for me, ri--ah- right?” He hissed feeling you sucking him up perfectly with your gummy walls while you grinded against his hips for more friction. He started pounding deeper into you, a moan scaping from you as you pressed against the wall trying not to fall. “So damn pretty.”
Soobin eyes were fixated where you and him met, licking his lips and whimpering when you’d clench around him. His pace fastened and he had to bite down on his lip so hard to avoid cumming when you started pounding against him as well, matching his pace. Your fingers rubbed against your knob, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, feeling so close to your climax.
Soobin slid his hand around your chest and grabbed your pretty neck, straightening you and pressing your back against his agitated chest. His mouth reached your ear and he started moaning for you, one hand pressing on your neck, the other pushing his fingers into your mouth while his dick devoured your insides.
“You take me so damn well, baby- fuck.“ He groaned, feeling you clenching at his words. “So fucking pretty, please, make me feel good and cum over my dick, okay?”
It didn’t take more for you to cum, Soobin panting at the feeling of your juices covering his throbbing dick and he thrusted a few more times before cumming too, ropes of cum filling you. He didn’t stop thursting into you until there was a white ring of cum at the base of his dick and you were whimpering so hard that even the fingers in your mouth couldn’t muffle down the sounds.
Soobin turned you around after pulling out of yourself and kissed your lips, not leaving you catch your breath. His hands cupping your face and rubbing sweetly.
“I think…” You said after pulling apart between agitated breaths while Soobin helped you put back your clothes. “We should get out of here before someone comes.”
“Good idea.” He put back on his own trousers and gently kissed your lips again, before going for his stuff.
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“You looked so fucked up right now.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Soobin ignored Taehyun’s comment and put down his tray of food on the cafeteria table. He knew he looked bad, after all he had go back late to his place last night and of course, his racing mind and heart hadn't let him sleep at all so he had no other choice but to work on his writing which had resulted in him finally finishing up the submission poetry for the contest and sending it up.
That was why he still had some bed hair and bags under his eyes that thankfully his glasses covered almost completely. Still if you’d look up at him from close, like his friend Taehyung did, you could noticed his sleep deprived self.
He started munching down his lunch when his eyes landed on you walking into the cafeteria, mindlessly looking down at your phone instead of where you were going. Soobin’s eyes were glued to you, his mind flashing back to yesterday, he fought the smile on his face.
Of course, his urge to smile really died when someone sneaked from behind you and hugged your waist, lifting you up in the air and making you gasp in surprise before giggling so beautifully. He hated it. Soobin watched the way Yeonjun put you down before kissing your cheek and hugging your shoulders, walking you to a free table.
“Oh my god, what did that salad even do to you?” Taehyun asked concerned watching Soobin stab furiously the poor lettuce, an annoyed grimace on his face. When his friend didn’t answer him, Taehyun looked where Soobin’s eyes were and hummed as if he got everything. “Are you jealous? Do you like her?”
But Soobin didn’t answer. He just watched carefully how Yeonjun placed a tray of food for you and opened his mouth, you spoon-feeding him before eating yourself.
“Are friends usually that close to each other?” He mumbled to himself but Taehyun perfectly caught that and snickered, earning a death glare from his friend. His eyes went back to you, chatting non-stop with Yeonjun who’s face lazily rested in the palm of his hand while listening and nodding to whatever you were saying.
Taehyun was actually scared Soobin would brake the fork on his hand when Beomgyu joined you and Yeonjun on the table, ruffling your hair and placing down some pudding on your tray. That should be me, thought Soobin, glaring at the boys surrounding you. His eyes met Yeonjun who, for a second, looked defiant into Soobin’s eyes, but then his gaze softened and he interrupted you mid-sentence, lifting up his finger in Soobin’s direction.
Soobin did felt his nerves shutting down and himself relaxing when you turned around and looked at him with your beautiful, so soft, lips stretching into a pretty smile and waving your hand in his direction. Soobin smiled lightly and waved back.
“So you two fucked yesterday?” Repeated Yeonjun earning a glare from you while you snapped your head at him.
“You should scream it out loud in case nobody else heard you.” You told him feeling your cheeks burning up when two girls from the table next to yours turned to look at your curiously.
“Sure thing. Hey! Y/n and Soobin are fuc- Mhm!” You shoved some untouched food into your friend’s mouth muffling whatever the fuck he was going to say and ignored the annoyed look he gave you, munching the food. “You could have killed me."
“I wish.” Gyu mumbled.
“Ah, please!” Yeonjun pulled your chair closer to his and trapped you in between his arms, not letting you a chance of scaping. “You both know you’d be so bored without me, I’m the actual fun part of this friendship."
Taehyun seriously thought Soobin would stab Yeonjun with his plastic fork any minute. Slowly, he took the mortal weapon from his friend’s hand and replaced it with an apple. If looks could kill, Yeonjun would be ten feet underground already.
That day, Soobin didn’t show at your classroom which only made your heart sank, barely being able to concentrate in your painting. As you confessed to your friends, you had really started to like this pretty boy but it scared you so much that you two would only be a fling.
A sighed scaped your lips as you walked down the hall in complete darkness after turning off the light from your classroom. The cold of the night hit you as soon as you put your foot outside and you hurried to the entrance where the same police office man of everyday nodded in your direction.
“Hey pretty.”
Soobin waited for you outside on the other side of the entrance. His back rested against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. He smiled softly at you and waited for you to react. You, on the other hand, started malfunctioning. Was it possible that he was there just to fuck again? What was the situation between you two?
“Hey,” You answered, barely smiling and looking away from his intense eyes. He took a step away from the wall and closer to you, making you flinch but you managed to lock eyes with his. “you’re pretty late.”
“Am I?” He nibbled down at his bottom lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “I had some thinking to do, sorry I didn’t show up.”
“It’s fine, it’s… it’s not like you had to-
“I like spending time with you.” He cut you off, knowing where you sentence was going but he wasn’t going to let it happen. Your mouth hanged open in the air, the words losing sound and you just nodded. “So, I have something to confess.” You hummed, letting him know you were listening. “Today I almost went to prison.”
“What?”
“I really, really, wanted to kick Yeonjun in the face today.” Your eyebrows knitted and he feared you were going to get mad at him, but instead you answered:
“I mean... I get it, but why?"
Soobin chuckled softly and took a step closer to you, cupping your hands in his. “Don’t you know why?”
“...I can thing about some things but I’m not really sure until you tell me.”
“I like you,” He lifted your hands closer to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. “like so much. I really like you.”
You grinned, feeling the anxiety from all day’s lifting from your chest. Your arms hugged the boy’s torso and placing down your head against his chest, you heard his beating heart.
“I hope this is not a rejection hug?” He mumbled burying his head in your neck and hugging you tightly against him. You chuckled and kissed his cheek.
“I like you too, silly. I was actually so sad you didn’t show up today, I thought this was a onetime thing for you.”
“Well, it was actually two.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know, but it isn’t like that.” Soobin lifted his head and cupped your face in his big hands. “Actually, there’s something I have to show you. Do wanna crash at my place tonight?”
You sat down on Soobin’s couch sipping at the warm coffee he had made for you and waited impatiently for him to finally show you what he had written for the poesy contest. He took a seat next to you, red tinting his cheeks as he offered you his notepad with slightly shaky hands. You smiled and took it, leaning in closer to him and making yourself comfortable in his embrace before starting to read:
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
That night, Soobin and you fell asleep in his couch with the background sound of the tv on and animation movie’s credits playing on screen. Your body on top of his, with your face burred in the crook of his neck, one hand placed against his chest moving up and down from his soft breaths and the other intertwined with his free hand, while his other hand hugged you tightly to him.
“And you said he wrote this about you?” Gyu repeated incredulously, looking at the screen of his phone that showed this year’s poetry winner posted on the uni’s page. You scoffed at your friend’s remarks and took the phone out of your ear, placing it near your boyfriend’s. Soobin looked at you confused.
“Tell him I’m your muse.” You said silently. Soobin snickered and held your hand that grabbed the phone.
“Hello? Ah, Beomgyu, hi. Yes? Yeah, thanks, I’m so happy right now. Actually…” Soobin’s dreamy eyes went up to look at you and his smiled widened. “Being real honest with you, I couldn’t have won without y/n, she’s my most perfect muse- Hello? Beomgyu? I think he died.”
a/n: this poem actually belongs to george gordon (lord byron) because i'm not that of a brilliant poestist (am not at all)
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megistusdiary · 1 year
Note
this idea literally just popped into my head after seeing some art on twitter but hear me out pls ok
reader grinding themselves down on alhaitham’s abs. that man is RIPPED -🔮
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ALHAITHAM IS SO FINE. i need him so bad you don't even know. his drip marketing looks so mf good like 😇😇🙏
also i love love love this concept ty for putting it in my box, 🔮 anon ♡♡♡
warnings: dom!alhaitham and sub!gn anatomy/pronouns reader
ab grinding lol, degradation, no gendered terms used but you grind against him
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alhaitham sat beside you, focused intently on his book, squinting at the pages in the low light. the lamp beside him was close to going out, flame flickering when a soft breeze blew into the room.
you were instead taking some time to rest, weary from your long week and desperate for some time to be with your lover.
though he wasn't the most physically affectionate, he knew exactly what you needed and would always deliver.
"you seem unfocused." alhaitham commented, not bothering to look up from his book.
ah, he caught you staring at him, cheeks warm as you returned to busying yourself with sketching in your notebook idly. "sorry, i didn't mean to stare. i just zoned out i guess."
"you've been staring at me like that all week." he paused to close his book will a short thud, placing it on the table next to him and turning to fully face you. "if you want something, just spit it out. i can't read your mind." alhaitham let a little smirk fall onto his face, leaning back against the chair. "yet, that is."
"well.." you trailed off, chewing on your inner cheek. your brain had been plagued with many...tempting dreams this week, each one waking you with an ache between your thighs that you had to take care of before leaving.
there was one specific scenario that seemed to be on repeat in your brain, and you couldn't help but ponder if alhaitham would be agreeable to experimentation.
"well?" he asked as you cleared your throat.
"it's kind of an odd ask. i don't want you to think i'm weird."
"despite what kaveh has filled your head with, i'm not the prude he believes me to be." he simply answered as you sighed.
"okay, well, you know- woah!" you gasped as alhaitham reached to drag you over onto his lap, settling your chest against his as your noses practically touched.
"do i have to coax it out of you, or can you spare me and use your words?"
your mouth felt dry, lips parting as alhaitham gripped your waist, letting you rest your thighs around his torso. it just so happened the way he sat you allowed you to grind yourself against his abdomen, feeling the definition through the layers of clothing as you bit your lip.
"you-" alhaitham cut himself off, watching your hips roll against him as the corner of his lips quirked up into an uncharacteristic grin. "you're really that desperate? rubbing yourself against me like some kind of animal?"
"i'm sorry, i just- this dream, i had a dream about you. and you told me to do this, and it felt so good, then-"
alhaitham silenced you by pressing your lips to his, moving his tongue into your mouth and allowing the kiss to grow sloppy. "the citizens of sumeru are finally allowed to have dreams and you spend them on grinding against my abdomen?" alhaitham arched an eyebrow as you hid your face into the crook of his neck, hot with shame.
"why do you need to imagine some shoddy version of me when you have me here?" he asked, using his own strength to roll your hips against him at his own pace.
"can i, can i please take them off?" you whined into his ear, breath hot against his skin as he nodded.
"lift your hips." he instructed you as you begrudgingly sat up to remove your pants. you went to settle back over him before he stopped you. "those too." he hooked a finger into the waist band of your undergarments, snapping it against you as you shivered, slowly peeling the fabric off.
your eyes widened as he lifted his shirt, revealing the blemish-fres expanse of skin to you, gesturing for you to come closer to him.
you hovered over his lap, feeling him collect slick from you and rub it over your sex, hearing you whimper and try to press your thighs closer.
"come on and get to it already." alhaitham snapped as you moved forward, pressing yourself against his abs and shivering at the contact. you squeezed his shoulders, finding a pleasurable rhythm to grind yourself against him with. you bit your lip as you focused on your hip movements, though some noises spilled out as you trembled against his form.
at some point, he grew bored of your pace, instead grabbing your waist and grinding you down harder and faster at the same time, feeling the slick spreading over his skin and watching you toss your head back, eyes fluttering shut.
"oh- that feels good-" you mumbled, thighs beginning to shake as he moved you in little circles letting you feel every dip and bump of his abs until you finally came, white liquid coating his skin and shirt as you fell against him.
you seemed boneless, enjoying the warm bliss of alhaitham's chest until you felt the tent in his pants prodding up against you.
"don't act like you're suddenly exhausted. let's recreate all those little dreams of yours, hm?"
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the-fiction-witch · 4 months
Text
Bump
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Media The Artful Dodger
Character Jack Dawkins
Couple Jack X Reader
Rating Sweet AF
I continued on my rounds checking my paperwork, as and when required popping in to anyone who wasn't urgent enough to come into the hospital. I checked on my way to the last house for the day, so I put my paperwork away and carried my bag with me, to the familiar deep blue front door, I fixed my jacket a little and swung the silver knocker a few times. The door swung open revealing young Elis Mayflower in her usual dress, "Ohh 'ello Dr Dawkins, we were expectin' you" She nodded and opened the door to let me in "Thank you, Elis," I nodded and took off my hat and jacket which Elis happily took "Where is she?" "Upstairs Doctor" She nodded I nodded and made my way up the stairs bag in hand. I headed down the hall past the paintings and small mostly unused rooms, until I stopped just before the last door.
The door was open a crack, light cascading from within, the sweet gentle sounds barely audible. I pushed open the door enough my body could slip inside, the well-polished wooden floor covered in dancing shadows from the fire, the flames in the fireplace danced and flickered sending the smell of oak wood and tyme across the room, the sound of the wood cracking and popping, the dark purple walls littered with almost too many paintings to even see the walls any longer, the window to the side shuttered up and then a curtain over it letting not a single bit of the harsh light from outside find its way, The various furniture littered the room.
The Main feature of the room, of course, the large wooden bed. With four tall wooden posts and a railing that normally hung purple curtains but they were missing today, the bed sheets were tossed into one corner of the bed, and sitting in it was the most perfect of sights.
Y/n sat in the bed, her back sat up but she had so many pillows between her and the headboard she must have been six inches from it if not more, her legs our straight, her hair free from any braids, and twisted, plaits or anything else, allowed to hang completely free with a slight kink to the hair where it so often lived plaided up and hidden below her hat. Her hair slightly in her face hiding it from me, she wore only a cotton shirt with long billowing sleeves that stopped just below her thigh, I thought for a moment I recognised it, as well as a pair of purple woollen socks that reached her knees with one white stripe around the top, her toes wiggling as they where warmed by the fire, her hands stroking her stomach, as she looked as if she was hiding a small barrel under her dress.
The small wooden and silver box on her table, the small silver ballerina twirling slowly as it paid her the music box song, the slight clicking and tinniness to the song as the music was plaid. And she sang with it, her voice gliding along the notes not loud enough for anyone beyond the door could hear her, as her hands stroked her stomach, tenderly, carefully, almost like she was afraid but loved all the same, her eyes on her enlarged belly and nothing else as if it and she were all that existed.
I couldn't hold back a smile, I must have looked an absolute picture, smiling so widely my cheeks hurt, red with blush to see her this way. I softly closed the door and took soft steps to lean my shoulder on the bedpost not enough to draw her attention, so I stood and watched for what could have been a thousand years, until her music box stopped and thus her song ended. "You're glowing," I spoke up, She jumped a little at my sudden words but she looked up with a sweet innocent smile, "Ohh, Hello Doctor Dawkins," She smiled, "I didn't hear you come in," "I didn't want to disturb your sweet song," I cooed unable to drag my eyes away from her just wanting to look at her a little while longer. She smiled "Aren't you going to examine me, doctor?" "Alright," I smiled moving to sit on her bed, I set my bag on the bed and opened it up to search through for what I needed. "How are you feeling?" "Much the same," She nodded leaning on her arms so I could touch her stomach, I checked her over as we spoke making sure everything was as it should be asking her short questions about how things were going and much of it was the same as last I saw her "So, When will it be?" She asked excitedly,
"Well, that's the question isn't it," I chuckled "I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately children are sort of a law unto themselves, when baby decides its time, then baby will come." I explained "You, I or anyone else doesn't have much of a say in it. But baby will let you know when it's time" I told her stroking her sweet cheek "Alright?" "Alright," she nodded, "I admit I am half tempted to get you a room at the hospital, just so you're close by," I told her, "I want to be here, where I'm comfortable." She said stroking her bump "Are you sure you don't want to be at the hospital?" "I'm sure," She nodded "Alright, as soon as you feel a contraction I want to know" I warn her, "I'll run all the way here if I have to." I winked "Can I? Please?" She pleads I smiled and got my stethoscope from my bag I gave the end a little warm with my hand before I tugged up her shirt just far enough to see her bare stomach, I put the other end to my ear and listened as I rested it on her skin, I shifted it across her skin until I found the best place to hear the rhythmic beating, for a moment I was frozen as I heard the gentle beats, each caused my own heart to swell and I had to fight back the tears "Here," I smiled and handed her the listening end and she happily put it to her ear and listened with the most excited smile I had ever seen a girl have,
She sniffled, tears slowly falling staring at her stomach as she listened "Hi Darling," She cooed and you could see the movement as the baby kicked, "You think he can hear me?" "Of course, he can, He can hear you talk to him, hear you sing to him, You're his mother, he loves you more than anyone will ever understand," I told her kissing her forehead, "Can he hear his daddy?" She asked as she took my hand and settled it on her stomach so I could feel him kick, "Of course, He can." I smiled giving her bump a sweet kiss "Hi little guy," I smiled as I rubbed my nose on her stomach and I gave her bump and our baby kisses. "It won't be long now, I'm sure of it." "Good, I don't want to be pregnant anymore Jack" She laughs returning my stethoscope to my bag,
"No?" "No. My feet are so swollen I can't wear shoes, I don't fit in any of my dresses anymore, I leak everywhere, I'm throwing up all the time, He's kicking me like I'm a football," She explained "It's not fun being pregnant Jack." "You said you liked it?" "I did when I was a couple of months and I had a cute little bump I could stroke as we walked through town." "You were adorable." I smiled thinking back to when she was newly pregnant, wandering around town with her little bump in her dress, I admit it made me feel very proud of myself. "And still are." "I'm as big as a ship Jack." she pouted, "They'll try to hollow me out and sail me to Africa," "You're a ship?" I chuckled, "ummmm" She nodded, "Well then, Permission to come aboard?" I smirked climbing over her to start kissing all over her face and neck which caused her giggle "Ohh yes a very beautiful ship, the most beautiful ship in the world, I shall have to steal her and sail the world single-handedly with her!" "Jack!" she laughed as she pushed me off her, "What's this anyway?" I glared tugging on her shirt, "I borrowed it," She giggled, "Borrowed?" "Well you've been working so much," she innocently smiled "We missed you." "I've missed you both too." I smiled, "But I need to do all this extra work, so I have lots of time off for when baby comes. I don't wanna be stuck up the hospital and leave you here with our little one, I wanna be here to help, and cuddle, and watch him grow. I don't wanna miss anything."
"Good, You can stay up all night when he cries then." "Ohh I know I will, I know what a trial it is trying to get you out of bed when you don't want to." "I don't like to be awoken," She pouts, "I just want this to be over." "Over?" I asked a little worried, "You know what I mean, I'm just… It's been a long nine months Jack, I'm tired." "I know you are," I smiled and kissed her lips "It won't be too much longer sweetheart."
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Text
Jack, Malleus: Beasts, us Both
Alright, TWST... you friggin' troll 😭 You got me good with those Jack frames... No wolf inspo reveal, I see how it is-- 😂
Because of the angle we're staring at the image from... that macaron Jack is holding looks like a massive GMO green grape… AM I JUST SEEING GRAPES EVERYWHERE BECAUSE OF R*LLO... This would mark the first Disney100 art with some notable changes (how he’s holding the macaron and the angle he’s bending at), most likely to make it look better for a card layout.
A Tale as Old as Time.
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A young lion prince and his hornbill attendant were captured in a photo frame. With finger-like feathers, the bird had plucked a strand of fur from the large cat. He lacked amusement, beak poised in a manner that suggested a light telling-off. The cub, for his part, looked upset at the lecture.
That’s right, lions don’t grow their manes out until they’re older.
Jack sometimes forgot that—with his dorm leader prowling around, the most prominent image he had of a lion was that of Leona. Strong, cunning, and self-assured. Nothing like the prince in the painting.
“How cute,” a low voice drawled. “To think that Kingscholar too was once this small and helpless… Fufufu.”
Jack’s eyes cut to the tall, dark man next to him. With long limbs and regal horns protruding from his head, Malleus Draconia resembled a gazelle.
“It’s hard to imagine Leona-senpai like that,” Jack awkwardly confessed. “I met his nephew once, but that only took me more out of it. He was… energetic and bright.”
“Implying that Kingscholar is lacking in energy and a cheerful disposition?” Malleus smirked. “Ah, yes. Much change occurs between childhood and adulthood, some of it attributed to social influences. That child had best be cautious. Perhaps Kingscholar’s attitude will rub off on him, smothering that sunshine.”
“Leona-senpai has his good points too!” Jack blurted out. He didn’t catch himself in time—the words just came, a reverberating bark in the museum.
“Oh? You’re rather quick to defend him.”
The wolf beastman gasped and reeled himself back in. “Y-You don’t see it because you’re not in Savanaclaw, but I can tell… Leona-senpai cares about his students a lot. He’s looking out for us in his own way.”
“Such as when he attempted to have me trampled?” Malleus suggested, his tone quiet yet challenging. “I do so fondly remember that.”
“Urk!!” Jack’s ears flattened. “He does take it too far sometimes. I don’t agree with everything he does. The idea of doing everything you can to protect others, though… that’s something I can understand.”
"It is?”
The first year nodded firmly. “There are stories about wolves working together to chase off invaders who wandered into their snowy territory. Once, a wolf family even took in an orphaned kid. I have my own younger siblings to look after, too.”
“It appears as though you and your ancestors feel a strong sense of duty to your packs,” Malleus noted. Something akin to amusement danced in his eyes. It quickly flickered out, giving way to a deep melancholy. “Family… Hmm. I cannot say I can relate. I have no siblings to speak of. There is my grandmother, but she is my only living relative."
There was a shift—a small, imperceptible change in Jack's stoic face.
"... Sorry to hear that."
"Think nothing of it." Malleus waved a dismissive hand. "The circumstances are as they are. We cannot rewind the threads of fate, only weave new ones.
"Still, it is strange. I have not had the chance to meet my mother nor my father. They were already gone long before my hatching. I should feel no attachment to such strangers. Even so, I feel as though something is missing without them."
He gave a dark chuckle, curling fingers over his heart. "Perhaps there is a part of me that longs for that kind of a family, too."
Jack frowned. His chest throbbed with a dull pain.
“That's..."
Sad.
No brothers, no sisters. No parents, not even aunts or uncles or cousins. Just one big, empty castle, and the creature caged inside of it.
Pacing past ruined wings, furniture strewn about as if a mad beast had run through it in a frenzy. The space filled with loneliness, a hollow feeling that couldn't be fended off.
He shuffled his feet. Resolve slowly solidified. Jack reached for his voice.
"... I don't think you need to worry, Malleus-senpai. You still have people who care about you. Family isn’t all in the blood." Jack bashfully rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes averted. "It's in the bonds too."
He gestured to the painting before them. "The lion prince lost his dad, the previous king. In grief, he ran away from home--but he still had friends that guided him when he was lost and scared. A warthog, a meerkat, a baboon, a hornbill, the lionesses in his pride. They all came together to show the prince he was loved and needed. Because of that, he was able to come home with his head held high."
Jack clenched a hand into a fist, offering a stiff smile. "Family's something that everyone has, one way or another. They're the ones who always have your back, blood or not.”
Malleus’s face momentarily lit up with surprise.
“My, I didn’t expect to hear such a motivational speech from you. I hear from Sebek that you’re quite standoffish.”
“D-Don’t get me wrong!!” he sputtered, face heating. “On any given day, I’d tackle things on my own. But doing that all the time is pointless.”
“Which is why you choose to follow Kingscholar’s leadership?” Malleus asked teasingly. “You seem to admire him a great deal and acknowledge him as the leader of your pack here at Night Raven College.”
“N-No!!” Jack snapped. “Th-There are just some things I’m not strong enough to do by myself, times when I have to team up with others for a common goal!! Until the day I have the strength to act completely on my own…!”
Malleus laughed softly, his lips lifting into a mysterious curve. "Be at ease, Howl. You needn’t be so defensive. I see your point with crystal clarity.”
“You… You do?”
“That is correct.” The dragon prince’s eyes creased. “You, who seeks strength, shall surely find it—and with that strength, you will not be daunted from protecting what is most precious to you, family and friends alike. You’ve helped me to realize the same. We are both the same kind of beast, fufu.”
Jack took one look at Malleus’s ominous smile and shuddered. It could have decimated the stars, wiping out all the light in the night sky in one fell swoop.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good thing…”
He glanced back at the painting of the lion prince and the hornbill advisor. The distress on the cub’s face suddenly resonated with him.
Jack groaned.
It looks like I still have a lot to learn.
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spicewrites · 7 days
Text
°💧Serenity in vulnerability💧°
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♡First time making love with Hwei, With GN AFAB Power (?) Bottom reader and Soft service Dom Hwei♡
🔞NSFW minors dni 🔞
Tw: Porn with plot!! Angst, Smut, established but newish relationship, Hwei struggling with vulnerability, Hwei having trust issues, flustered Hwei, teasing turned flustered reader, oral reader receiving, marking, hair pulling, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied masturbation, mentions of female anatomy, body worship, unintentional orgasm denial, breeding kink if you squint, mentions of female aligned clothing, crying (happy tears!) , Aftercare
Pet names for reader used: my muse, angel, my love,
You had been invited into Hwei's home studio so he may once again paint his most precious muse but there's a hot pink glint in the eyes of the visionary and a tension in the air that's thick like warm honey.
It always filled you with butterflies and made you feel like royalty whenever your boyfriend wanted you to be the sole subject of his art piece. Always putting his skills on full display to portray you in the most beautiful way he can, taking tender care to bring the beauty that you didn't see within yourself to light. Though there was a lingering feeling in the air the past few times he's brought you here
Recently he has suggested you to be put in more revealing outfits, and comprised positions. And if you would comply with his request, those said sessions you'd be left on the pedestal alone for prolonged periods of time while he disappeared in search of certain supplies. Only to return with various small jars of paint of pastel hues in hand and a flushed face
"May I ask you something my muse..?"
Hwei questioned as the both of you walked through his home, trying to hide the apprehension that laced his usual melancholic tone. He lightly coughed into his sleeve as the two of you entered his studio, the golden light of the late afternoon sun pouring in from the windows.
The nervousness was so evident in his voice and his eyes swirling with an unusual magenta hue. It caused curiosity and a pinch of excitement to stir in you bringing you to a brief pause before you answered
"Hmm? What is it?"
He hesitated before he replied, his gaze casting to the doorknob of his creative abode, he awkwardly stepped aside as he turned the knob. He let you through the door before him while he gently placed a hand upon your upper back, then followed in closely behind you. you could almost feel the hot air of his heavy sigh fan across the nape of your neck
"I was wondering.. and you have every right to reject! but.. y/n could I ask to see you nude and to paint a portrait of you bare ..? You're just so beautiful and I can't stop thinking about it"
His request has already made you feel stripped nude, your face goes hot, as you wrap your arms over your still-clothed body as a means to calm yourself as you feel your heart skip a beat. Your words caused him to stammer, his once composed, dreary demeanor now turned to that of a deer in headlights.
He looks at you with rosey eyes pleading, begging for your acceptance as he locks the door behind him. Your face flushes as his words freeze you in place, so you reiterate with a question of your own, needing to confirm what he really meant despite it being painfully obvious
"Hwei you.. you want to paint a portrait of me naked?"
Hwei's eyes started to swirl with cautionary yellow hues flickering with a firey red as panic started to settle in. He can clearly see how you're uncomfortable, his breath is caught in his throat, he puts a hand over his mouth as his eyes dart around the large open studio, while he slowly nods.
He knows he's probably stepped over a boundary but yet, he's long yearned to see you in your most natural form. Your truest self laid before him so that he may hopefully indulge in it. To worship you like the divine being he sees you as, so he had to jump on the opportunity when it presented itself
While yes it was a major step to be stripped bare for his eyes to see, to fully let down your guard and let yourself be on full display for him. It was the way he always was so gentle and mellow with his requests that touched your soul, putting your comfort first and foremost before fulfilling any of his desires that made your heart swell thus allowing your nervousness to dissipate
Seeing your lover so flustered wasn't an unwelcome sight either, confirming to you that he cared and loved you so deeply. He looked rather adorable as he so politely pleaded for your acceptance, you could see how red the visionary was becoming. How his eyes would dart around the room, one moment, then the next scan your body up and down as he so desperately searched for your answer.
Hwei was growing more anxious by the second, the wait felt unbearable, his heart pounding in his chest, as his stomach began to do flips. So he threw his hands up and waved them in front of his face, the words stammering out of his mouth, to try and relieve the rising tension between the two of you
"I-I'm sorry..! Just forget what I--"
"You may"
You interrupted his flustered babblings by taking his hands in yours, gently stroking the backs of his trembling palms with your thumbs. Your words caused time to stop, his body a blaze as your acceptance processed itself in his mind, still unable to believe that you said yes
"Y/n..? Are you sure..? Are you really sure..?!"
He didn't want to push you but your willingness to be so open and vulnerable took him by surprise and almost frightened him, a feat even he might not be able to overcome in the near hours if the situation leads to it. You nod your head to reaffirm your statement and decide to take advantage of the situation to tease him a bit in his moment of weakness.
"Hwei it's alright, as long as no one else interrupts us~ we could do more than just paint hm?"
Your musings send shivers down the man's spine. The sultry tone of your voice and the way you loosen the first few buttons of your shirt to expose a bit of your skin causes him to practically malfunction. You can see his throat bob up in down as his widened eyes dawn a bright magenta hue. The red color that adorns his face deepens as he watches you with his mouth agape. You make his heart feel like it might just stop as he stumbles to sit at his workspace, unable to take his eyes off of your little show
"Hmm? What's wrong~? Isn't this whatchu wanted?"
You continue to provoke him as he watches from his painter's chair, swiping his dark teal bangs back and away from his face watching you remove your garments at an agonizing pace. More of your supple skin begins to reveal itself, your curves unveiled under the setting sun that seeps through the curtains, casting a luminous golden glow upon you as your clothing pools on the floor beneath you but stop your little strip tease once you are down to just your bra and panties. You give Hwei a look full of mischief laced with lust, you walk over and place his trembling hands over your hips as you almost straddling the man. You hook his slender fingers under the band of your panties and whisper.
"Would you like to do the honors?"
Hwei already couldn't believe his eyes, the word perfect couldn't even begin to describe you. His words were caught in his throat, he felt like an eldritch creature placing its dirty, vile hands upon the purest, most divine angel heaven had so graciously blessed him with, while desperately fighting the immense need he's been holding back.
He didn't feel worthy of indulging in you in such an intimate manner. Words couldn't even begin to describe how beautiful you were in his eyes, and how disgusting he felt about himself in comparison. But how the need for you grows as he casts his borderline obsessive gaze upon you, again feeling the soft plush of your hips and the silky fabric of your underwear beneath his fingertips only driving his desire further
"If you so allow me to my love.."
You could see the turmoil of emotions swirling in him, nervousness and need, hesitancy and desire. Knowing Hwei he probably feels inadequate and untrusting of himself to touch you in such a way but how desperately he wants to devour you in this moment. So you tighten your grip upon his hands whilst you affirm aloud
"It's alright I trust you Hwei..! I know you won't hurt me.."
Your words caused his heart to swell as a slight sense of newfound confidence from your affirmations caused him to straighten up in his seat. He leaned in closer to you then thickly swallowed with a shakey breath escaping his lips still uncertain of himself. He pulled down the delicate fabric, it took everything in his being not to dive into your core right as it revealed itself.
His touch was careful and restrained, Hwei placed his warm hands atop your plush thighs, slowly sliding them up your torso, watching in awe as his fingers sank in slightly into your plush flesh. He leans his face closer to your torso, his lips ghosting over your pristine skin. Allowing himself to indulge in the intimacy, he softly presses his lips upon your body, trailing a path of affectionate kisses up to the valley of your breast as sweet nothings fall from his lips and onto your supple skin
"Oh my love... how you're more perfect than I could've ever imagined... I truly don't deserve someone as divine as you.."
His musings make your heart both simultaneously soar and sink as you feel the warmth of his breath alongside strands of his hair tickling against your skin. His hands gingerly make their way to the claps of your bra, Hwei's hands hesitate for a moment, feeling like the world could end if he messes things up now. He looks up to you, a look as if he's asking once again for your permission.
You nod your head knowing what he's asking for as his hands ghost over the only thing left from exposing yourself entirely to him. It takes him only moments of fiddling with the clasps and your bra sluffs off of your shoulders and onto the floor beneath the two of you.
You could feel Hwei stiffen underneath you, watching him so intently hide his hardening groin from your sight. Shuffling and shifting beneath you, grasping for the ends of his clothes, draping the ends of anything he could grab onto and place over his growing erection, praying you don't notice as arousal of your own begins to swell within you
"Whatever did I do to get so lucky to have an angel lay bare right before my eyes.. y/n you're everything anyone could ever want.."
He continues placing soft, slow kisses up to your collarbone, his hands ghosting over the mound of your breast. You gently place your hand over his, collapsing his trembling palm over the soft flesh screaming to be touched by his hands.
While the tension and the atmosphere was hot as a summers day, the temperature in the visionary's studio was a stark contrast. Goosebumps began to litter your skin, your nipples perking up under Hwei's fingertips while the night air crept in through the windows. You shiver under his touch, as a shakey sigh leaves your lips Hwei's loving immersion is broken as concern settles in noticing your icey state.
He quickly rubs his hands up and down your arms and pulls you in closer, he then removes the crest from his robe and swiftly sets it aside. Hwei then distances himself slightly as he begins to remove the long teal tunic he so often adorns, then wrapping it around your form and pulling you close once again
"Apologies it gets so in here cold during the late hours.."
He pauses his voice becoming low and raspy against the nape of your neck. He whispers against your skin as he wraps his robe around the both of you. Your body pressed up against his, and your breast squished into his exposed chest.
"Besides.. I don't think we're going to be staying in here anyways.. I can't focus when you're acting like that.. c'mon lets go to the room.."
It was your turn to be flustered, your heart pounded as he lifted you from your seat. There was a small string of slick that trailed from a clear puddle that you had left atop his thigh illuminated by the light of the moon as you separated yourself from him. This didn't go unnoticed, you watched in embarrassment as he gave you a look of awe at the mess you had made.
He ensured that your body was fully covered not wanting a soul besides himself to lay eyes upon you in your beautifully bare state. He leads you out of his studio and down the darkened hallway of his home. Your hand was tightly clasped with his, each step you could practically hear the loud thud of your pulse as panic mixed with excitement settled in as you entered his bedroom. Your mind swirled with thoughts of
'Oh god I really did it now, it's happening..!! Or is it?! I don't know I didn't expect him to be so forward?!'
"Sit"
You flinch when you hear Hwei's voice accompanied by the locking of the door. His tone was much more demanding than what you were used to, his hands softly gesturing to the bed whilst he lit the room aglow with candlelight. It was getting unbearable to restrain himself, to take you fully, to paint beautiful marks all over the perfect canvas that was your body turning you into his magnum opus, and to live out the countless scenarios he'd fantasized about.
You do as you're told, with your body feeling as if it's on fire from the heated tension between the both of you. You place yourself at the edge of the mattress, his tunic still draped over your form. You watch Hwei as he bends down to his knees before you. Oh how you look so divine, his muse being wrapped in his clothing as the moonlight is accompanied by soft flickering flames of the candles scattered across the room, highlighting your most pristine features.
He pauses at your feet, akin to a disciple in front of their god, if he was going to make love to you, he was going to ensure that he does it right. He wanted to guarantee you felt safe, loved, and given the purest of exctasy even if he's terrified of giving you even the most gentle of touch. He's mortified of hurting you, he has known the most disastrous of things coming forth of his hands despite the countless times he has brought forth serenity and now he had to prove it not only to you but to himself. To keep himself in control when it was almost impossible to.
From his seated position between your legs, he looks up at you with desperate but darkened eyes. He rests his head against your thigh, wrapping both of his slender arms around your leg giving it a gentle caress as he whispers in a deep tone.
"Y/n.. are you completely sure you trust me..?"
Your heart was racing, you knew what Hwei was about to do and what entailed next if you said yes. You knew he had your best interests at heart, that he loved you deeply. The way he was always so tender with his touches, more than respectful with your boundaries, and he wouldn't be kneeling before you just to check for the nth time if you really were ready for this if he didn't right?
"I do Hwei! I do..and if things do lead to us going there tonight, I'll gladly let it, especially since it's you..!"
You warmly say to him, your words like a vow. You can see his body go still, his eyes reflecting the colors of the ocean hues being pulled by the moonlight coming through the windows as he's deeply moved by the words you spoke. He fights back his tears with a heavy sigh, leaning his head against your thigh, leaving long and deep kisses against your soft skin, his voice raspy and needy as he spoke
"Then.. let me show you just how much that means to me.. just how much you mean to me.."
His voice was full of gratitude and sincerity as Hwei continued to place deep kisses all over your body, his tongue gliding over your supple skin slowly creeping up your body from his seated position kissing even the most sensitive of areas, sending waves of ecstasy through your veins.
"Mm..!"
You can't help but let a few moans pass your lips as his graze dangerously close to your core as he continues traveling upward, the sounds coming from you only stirring him on. His touch becomes desperate and more possessive, softly pushing your bodies against the mattress placing himself just above you, capturing your hand in his as your fingers intertwined
"And just how much I need you.."
He mutters out right into your ear, his tone thick with sultry as he continues drowning you in lustful affection. He lowers his body, putting more of his weight onto you causing your legs to spread in the process. Hwei welcomes himself in between your thighs, grinding his hardening cock against your folds whilst his mouth latches onto the side of your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel his teeth grazing over your skin, hearing him emit sounds of saccharine satisfaction as he leaves his first mark upon your delicate skin
"Two more.."
He whispers as he makes his way down to the skin just above your heart which beats so loudly for him in this moment. You feel Hwei suck your skin between his teeth, his tongue savoring the addictive taste of you loving the way your heartbeat quickens under his touch. Arousal akin to that of hot lava runs through your veins as he leaves his second mark, fondling your breast in the process. You feel how you're practically dripping between your legs, drenching anything that comes close, feeling how easily even his clothed member slips between your folds, so addictively working that knot within you
"So pretty, your body is the perfect canvas.. just one more okay, let me know if it hurts.."
You nod your head as he moves downwards once more to just under your navel, he yearned to mark the womb he so wished to fill. It was almost painful when he stopped rolling his hips against yours to position himself for his next mark and your neediness didn't go unnoticed. He grabs your hand and brings it down your bundle of nerves that's begging for attention.
"Guide me.. and don't lie to me either because I'll feel it if you fake it..!"
The sharpness in his glowing magenta eyes and the firmness in his voice caused you to hesitate momentarily, but the way your body was almost screaming for Hwei's touch had you moving his hand right atop your sensitive bud. You inhale sharply then let out an elated sigh as you feel his now wet fingertips begin to massage your sweet spot
"Ahh..! R-right there.."
His skilled hands brought you pleasure that you couldn't even imagine bringing to yourself. He continued winding you up tighter at an almost alarming speed due to how long you had been aroused without touch.
"So wet.. so perfect.. don't hold yourself back, if it comes, let it. I want to see you full of bliss by my hands"
He mused as he placed his lips right above your womb space continuing to work circles onto your sweet spot. Wanting to leave his third and final mark, Hwei latches onto your skin, devouring the scent, taste, and feel of his muse wholeheartedly. He craved to feel you hit your peak whilst he painted your body with deep purple blotches. So he then takes his free hand and slowly slips a finger into your heat.
His entry caused you to gasp, you instinctively gripped the sheets while he entered you. You feel him stop momentarily his fingers lay still upon your form as the sound caused his ears to perk up in apprehension with fear and doubt finding its way back in.
"Are you alright my love..? Too much?"
Hwei stopping was agonizing as you were so close to your peak but you couldn't help but swoon at his all too considerate nature. You prop your head up to meet his concerned gaze you can see the fear and self-disdain building by the second within him so you swiftly shake your head and in a last-ditch attempt to soothe his sorrows and obtain the high you both knew you craved. You cup his cheeks in the palms of your hands, throwing your shame out the window, and cry out to him
"I am! Just p-please.. don't stop! If anything I'm not okay because you're holding back.. You're still even fully clothed..! I love you and I know you want this as much as I do..!"
You make Hwei's eyes go wide, surprised that he's genuinely giving you pleasure instead of pain. Your cries strike a deep wounded chord within him a thread that has been woven deep into the fabric of his being for as long as he could remember. Yet another person he has been close to tells him that he's holding back. He fears for the moment when he truly lets it all go, to fully surrender due to the traumatic events of his past. Even more so if losing control means you get hurt and you end up despising him as much he does himself
But there you are, blessing him with your love and trust, allowing yourself to be so vulnerable and raw as you await his loving touch. You always we so accepting of him and his entirety with open arms, showering him the same love he is giving you so it truly was a shame he was keeping himself from enjoying this moment.
"I-I love you too, so so much..! and you're right.. let's change that.."
He says as he thickly swallows with a deep ragged breath escaping his lips. He pulls away from you to swiftly remove the rest of his clothing, trying to push back the tormenting thoughts, horrified by what you will think of his stripped state, keeping his underwear still intact. When he returns to you, placing his skin onto yours, a wave of ecstasy and elation washes through both you as you lay skin on skin.
A soft chuckle passes your lips as you see how Hwei melts his bare slim form into your soft body for a warm embrace.
"See isn't this better~ you had nothing to hide anyway you look amazing.."
You only see Hwei nod, hearing him hum in contentment, pressing his body flush against yours. You soon feel him placing his nimble hands right back where they should be
" It just feels so right.. as if we were meant to be.."
He confesses, resuming to feed you the pleasure your body craved while simultaneously returning to his previous spot to place his final mark. Your moans sound like sweet music to him, only urging him to keep going. He feels your body tightening that knot right under his lips, the way your body is reacting is maddening, and your scent is so intoxicating. He can't stop thinking about how it would feel to be sunk deep inside your silken walls or even how you would taste.
He can't help but let his hips roll into the mattress as he chases your high. You arch your back as your hands find purchase once again on the sheets with a harsh grip. The way he almost perfectly curls his fingers into you with one hand and so skillfully worked quickening circles onto your clit was enough to send you over the edge. Your body shudders, emitting an airy loud cry of his name as you finally reach your peak. Hwei feels a sense of deep satisfaction when you tighten around his fingers, feeling his shaft throb at the sensation, with him practically drooling at the sight of your cute bud pulsing with pleasure.
"So good for me my love.. but I wonder just how you taste"
You see him lick the slick from his fingers, huming in delight at the taste, whilst he smoothes back his bangs through a half-lidded gaze causing your face to heat up more than ever thought possible. Then just seconds later you sense Hwei gives a soft experimental kiss to your sensitive bud, causing your body the writhe at the sensation of his tongue swiping over you.
"Mmh..! H-hwei..! I-- Ahh..!
Your response only continues to encourage him. You feel him venture deeper, wrapping his lips fully around your sweet spot, sucking on the delicate flesh. Stars cloud your vision with ecstasy coursing through your veins. Your hands unconsciously entangling in his hair, you were all too eager to explore this newfound side of him if this is what it means to see Hwei fully let go.
The taste of your sweet nectar covering his tongue was addictive, unable to resist the urge to press his tongue against your heat. incapable of controlling the moans passing his lips and onto yours. The vibrations of his voice sends shockwaves through your already stimulated system. He ruts his hips into the mattress, dying to plunge himself deep into you as the need for his muse hits its boiling point. He pushes back the urge to take you right then and there because he so yearns to taste your release
Your slick runs down his chin as he slips his tongue through your core, placing his fingers and swirling them atop your bud. He savored your delicious taste like the finest gourmet meal and only craved more as he pressed further, as he mused onto your heat.
"Your taste.. so delectable..~"
The feeling Hwei was giving you was so intense, you already were so close, that you almost couldn't handle the sensation that was building within you. With exasperated breathy moans, you feel that dam burst as your walls clenched down on Hwei's tongue, your hands tightening their grip on his hair.
The combination of feeling your fingers pull on his hair with you coming down on his tongue it was almost impossible to hold back hitting a peak of his own but as soon as he felt you crash down onto him, Hwei could feel the ecstasy coursing through your veins and in turn, he couldn't help but release himself. Hearing him let out a deep groan of satisfaction, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.
Hwei slowly wipes your slick off of his face with the back of his hands with a darkened but desperate look in his eyes. He slowly crawled atop your form, with languid movements he pulled down his boxers whilst wiping away the evidence of his premature climax. With glazed eyes he gawks at your body, it was a stunning sight to see you glistening with sweat and slick with his now soiled tunic draped loosely over your frame, it was a moment even more perfect than he could have ever imagined.
"Y/N my muse... you're so perfect.. you don't know how long I've craved for us to be intimate like this.."
Hwei pants out with labored breaths as you feel the visionary shift his weight as he places himself between the warmth of your thighs, his throbbing length dripping in what you think is pre-cum so desperately waiting to be invited into your heat as it glides between your folds.
He catches your hand in his, entangling your fingers as leans in to lock his lips with yours in a slow but heated kiss. As heady as the moment was, there was a sense of serenity to it as your tongues danced with one another, swearing you saw small golden orbs of lights fleeting in your vision the moment the kiss broke, leaving it to be just your mind being full of bliss
Hwei gently cups your cheek, gently stroking his thumb across your delicate skin, leaning in close to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes once again a bright brilliant blue swirling with specks of magnificent magenta as he aligns himself with your entrance. You open yourself completely to him, your form fully relaxed, his prior musings had made you feel more than safe and prepared for this moment, signaling to him you want this just as much as he
"Promise to tell me if it hurts alright?"
Hwei mutters, his breath hot against your skin. His brow knitted in concentration before your bodies combine. He won't move an inch until he knows you feel fully secure. You tighten your grip on his hand, locking eyes with him. You gaze up at him with deep adoration as you let your body sink further into the mattress, accommodating for Hwei's tall frame with your essence coating his length.
"I will, but I know you won't hurt me"
You see his eyes soften, a serine smile adorning his features with Hwei emitting a long and deep sigh. Trying to resist the looming thoughts of how he doesn't deserve to be in this moment or how you may be lying to him, choosing to trust, so he can just simply indulge in the pleasure and love that you're so graciously offering to him.
You both give each other a knowing look as Hwei takes in another deep breath before slowly sinking himself into you. You inhale sharply at his initial entry, feeling his cock stretch you out so perfectly as he inched deeper and deeper until he senses the elation of being fully engulfed by your heat. You feel his tip kiss the deepest parts of you with his bright pink eyes scanning you for signs of pleasure or pain
"You alright..?"
Hwei whispers out through shallow breaths, as he dared not move, his chest strung so tightly awaiting your response. He only allows the tension to dissipate in a long, drawn-out breath once he sees you nod your head and your affirmations to soothe his stressed state.
"Yeah, you're not hurting me Hwei, quite the opposite actually ~"
He then pauses, his face flushed red from your musings, but relieved to hear that you're not in pain. He then relishes in the moment savoring the feeling of you so deliciously warming pulsating length.
"That's good.. but if I may please let me stay like this for a moment, please Y/N..! I've yearned to feel our auras blend.."
Hwei breathed out, leaning down to pull you into a tender embrace, sinking his head into the crook of your neck as he planted soft kisses upon the mark from moments prior. He needed to let the realness of this moment set in, that you were really here, here to stay, and that you were so willingly giving yourself and your love up to him.
You had never felt so loved, so cherished, and so clearly wanted than in this moment, you snake your arms around his slender form that lay hunched over yours with you leaning your head slightly to the side to grant him more access to the sensitive area.
Growing a bit impatient, an idea crosses your mind. A soft sultry chuckle escapes your lips while you languidly wrap your legs around his waist, wanting to see how he would react. Hwei's eyes go wide, his breath hitches with even the slightest of movements sending hot lightning through his veins
"Y-Y/N..! W-what are you-- mmh!!"
You giggle as you watch him stammer through gritted teeth. Your actions took Hwei completely off guard, the sensation of your walls pulling him was irresistible. It was impossible to ignore the instinctual urge to move, to thrust into you like no tomorrow.
"I-I swear you drive me insane..! you feel so good for me..! I need you so badly I--!"
Hwei's hushed words get left behind, biting his lip in a desperate attempt to hold back his needy cries. Unable to help himself from starting to roll his hips against yours, the sensation exponentially better than what his hand could ever provide. The feeling of him perfectly caressing every inch of your interior was irresistible, with the intense pleasure that builds with each of you.
His hands reach down and grip the swell of your hips, in hopes that holding onto you will help him hold on to the last bit of composure that was rapidly slipping through his fingertips. The visionary pulls you in closer to him, his grip gentle, but dripping with need with his long dark hair cascading over you, long since loosened from its normally tied-back state.
The moans you both emit ring through the room like an unholy choir, accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of his hips rutting into you. His fingertips dig deep into your soft flesh, feeling his restraint dissipating every time his cock slipped in and out of you. You feel the ecstasy slowly building with each of Hweis slow sensual movements, only leaving your body to crave
"More..~ Hwei, please..!"
Your desperate cries are like a fire to the tightly strung rope that is Hwei's resolve, causing it to snap. His body shudders, and his erratic breath is hot against your skin, akin to that of an animal in heat. You feel the small gust from how his hands leave your hips and slam themselves into the mattress, locking you between his arms.
Hwei couldn't resist you any longer, the mix of how you were so perfectly fit for him and the sweet melodic sound of your voice begging for more was all too alluring. His hips began to slam into you, his brow beginning to bead with sweat, with his eyes aglow with that same magenta hue from earlier that day, casting an almost obsessive gaze upon your vulnerable form.
You gasp at the rapid change of pace and change in his demeanor, you had never seen Hwei so, determined? No that wasnt it. It was a look of pure possessive obsession. A glint in his eye that made the entirety of your body shiver but not in an unwelcome way. In fact it only excited you as that familiar heat began to pool at the base of your stomach.
His relentless borderline erratic pace only made you mewl and whine out his name while he ignited your senses. Hwei could feel how close he was, the entirety of his body screaming for that release, the only thing he wanted to paint in that moment were the walls so addictively clenching down around him in a brilliant white, your body telling him that your peak was just as close as his.
It took every ounce of strength to keep in the load threatening to spill. Hwei knew of the consequences of what entailed if he truly lost his grip, surrendering to his instincts and emptying himself into you without conscious thought. You weren't helping him any either, your heat sucking him in, pleading for his essence with your body arching at the precise angle. Making him feel like he was practically dripping, his tip brushing against the deepest parts of you
His eyes swirled with glowing golden hues, Hwei softly cups your cheek with a trembling hand, his skin burning against yours from the heated passion, tilting your head to look straight up at him
"Y/N..! My love, I need you to look at me..!"
Hwei mutters out through exacerbated breaths, he needs to burn this moment deep into his memory. You roll your head to lock eyes with him, oh how you look so divine, so full of bliss. You had been left utterly breathless from his touch, and so dangerously close to spilling over.
You can see tears pricking at the corners of his eyes with an expression of pure love and desperation adorning his visage. He slowed his pace whilst steadying his breathing in a feeble attempt to try and compose himself.
" 'm so.. so close..y/n..! Where do you want it..?!"
He choked out, once again pleading for an answer. Your body freezes, momentarily contemplating the situation at hand. You take this to be a moment where you can truly show Hwei how much you love and trust him wholly. You once again wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in tightly against you, grinding your hips against his as you chase the high your bodies both crave mewling out the answer that was clear as day.
" In.. please..! I'm so close too, please I want to feel you release deep inside of me!"
Your words shook him to his core. His heart, mind, and body so overwhelmed by the pure faith and devotion you so easily gave to him that he couldn't help but let a few tears slip. But the way you whined out in congruence with the way you perfectly rolled your hips against his to milk him for every last drop, made his body writhe in ecstasy. Hwei wrapped his arms fully around you, pulling you in close, more than willing to fulfill your wish.
"F-fuck..! I love you..!! So much Y/N..! I'm gonna--!!"
"Me too Hwei Ahh..~!"
Hwei's voice is strained and muffled against your skin. Your vision goes a blinding white as the tidal wave crashes then drowns the both of you in heated extasy. You can't help but cling onto him, crying out his name in turn as you ride out your high, feeling him begin to pump you full of his hot white seed.
Your bodies are both left trembling from the intense satisfaction, letting yourselves pause to indulge in the afterglow. It takes a moment before Hwei finally pulls away from you, letting your mixed essence flow onto his tunic that still lies beneath you and gently laying you back onto the mattress, a cerulean-hued gaze tenderly casting its view onto you with your e/c staring lovingly back.
"See, I know you're not the monster you think you are Hwei, you're so vastly the opposite.."
Reaching up to caress the soft skin of his cheek, pushing away the stray hairs from his face. Hwei leans his head into your palm, nuzzling into its warmth, as he places his hand over yours. Never had he felt so seen, so accepted, and so truly loved than in this moment. He finds it impossible to fight back a few stray tears that fall onto your fingertips, with you gently swiping them away.
"Your words never fail to not only make my heart race but to also put it at ease.."
His raspy voice whispers out to you, the both of you are completely spent, but Hwei knows he can't just leave you like this. He leans in once again, this time to litter kisses all over your glistening skin gently shifting your body to remove his robe from you, taking the time to meticulously wipe you clean with the silken fabric, using whatever is left for himself and tossing it aside, extinguishing the candles in the process. Hwei put a finger to your lips before you could refute a thing
"I'll wash it later don't worry my muse.. but for now, please embrace me while we rest, I'm not ready to be apart from you."
You so willingly fit your form against his, laying your head atop his chest, his body still exceedingly warm from the moments prior but it exudes nothing but comfort. A content sigh leaves his lips whilst he pulls you closer ensuring you're glued to him. Hwei then reaches for the plush blanket draping it over the both of you.
He finds himself slowly stroking the top of your head, with the only thought crossing his mind before the lull of sleep takes over you both being, that there truly can be serenity in vulnerability
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ghulehunknown · 6 months
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Terzo x F!Reader
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Day 3 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃
**WARNING EXPLICIT - NSFW!**
Also available on AO3!
“Preparation is Key”
CW/Tags: nipple play, semi nudity, oral sex (blowjob), facial, light degradation, feminine reader, Terzo is in love with you teehee
Summary: Terzo has just been anointed as Papa and is leading a very special Black Mass sermon. Your duty is to give him a…helping hand.
Word Count: 1068
.
Terzo was leading Black Mass for the first time on his own tomorrow, and you’d been practicing your part for the sermon all week. Reading from the dark texts, kneeling, and some…other things.
Black Mass had consisted of Unholy Acts all month long; each week something more dark and twisted in the name of Lucifer. You hoped maybe, just maybe, that you’d be picked for next week too - the pleasures of cunnilingus. The ghouls had already performed the art of a threesome the previous week, with Sister Imperator speaking. As a Sister of Sin, you were honored to oblige and be part of this week’s depravity.
But right now was your turn to practice your art with him before Mass tomorrow evening. And you desired to please him so. Fucking. Much. You were kneeling on the marble floor of his office, eyes gazing upward as two clawed fingers found their way into your open mouth. You closed your eyes as you took them in, your tongue swirling around his leather gloves.
“Cara mia,” he whispered, grazing your cheek. Terzo unlaced the front of your bodice, revealing your breasts. Your nipples hardened in the cold air - or maybe it was just your nerves? Papa gently tugged your nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and index fingers. How could he be so cruel? He knew that drove you over the edge. You moaned quietly.
Terzo widened his eyes as a warning, stopped teasing you, and gave you a small clap on the cheek as your face flushed red. He tutted at you quietly, wagging a finger in your face. “None of that tomorrow, amore.”
You grabbed his waist and nuzzled into his crotch, teasing him.
“Puttana,” he half-laughed, before gathering composure again. He fell into old pattern and gently started grazing your face with his fingertips lovingly. Your heart skipped a beat whenever you felt his touch. He stopped and collected himself. “Oh merda, I cannot act like this tomorrow.”
You unbuckled Terzo’s trousers, hands shaking. “Like what?” you asked innocently as Papa traced your arm with his fingertip tenderly, giving you comfort. This wasn’t anything new to you; you’d given him pleasure many times before. But you never had an audience. And now he was Papa.
“Porca miseria! You must make me say it, Sorella? I cannot look like an old fool in love when I have a duty first as Papa. Sì, I am nervous as hell. There - happy?” He frowned, his hand on his hip.
You smiled. “So am I,” you said. Still looking up at him from your knees, you slipped the waistband of his black satin underwear over his hips and his cock bobbed over the edge.
You teased the head of his cock with your tongue; it glistened with precum in the dim flickering candlelight. He groaned, and tried to regain composure. “Oh cazzo,” he whispered. His eyelids fluttered as you began to take him whole. He grasped the back of your head and gently rocked you into him, moving rhythmically to your head bobbing up and down. He smelled like spearmint and cedar. He was also…bare? You sank deeper, and cupped his balls in one hand, the other grasping his firm ass. Yes, he was definitely waxed before this in preparation. The thought of your Papa, legs spread and yelling obscenities while getting his pubic hair removed almost made you giggle. No - no. You had to focus. You’d tease him about that later.
You and Terzo soon entwined, and you barely noticed your nerves from before. You looked up at him with nothing but love and adoration for your prince. You wanted to make him feel so fucking good, but you also didn’t want to outshine Papa in his moment tomorrow. His eyes were closed most of the way, but he caught your gaze. You fucking loved him, and he loved you.
You moved your mouth up and down on his shaft, trying to squat as daintily as you could, but you could feel your own cum slide down your thighs, turned on by Papa’s stifled moans. You began to use your hand to build up pressure with your tongue. He inhaled sharply. It was almost pathetic to see him so regal and composed. He moaned like an animal when it was just you two alone. “Amore! I need this whole fucking place to hear how wild you make me!” he would say exasperated when you would cup a hand to his mouth. This time he was silent, except for heavy breathing.
“Prendilo tutto in gola, mia principessa perfetta,” he guided you to hurry up. “Can’t have them thinking we’re in love, can we?” he said, chuckling lightly.
“Would that be so bad?” you asked with a smile, stroking him gently and kissing him down there.
“You would be seen as a distraction I’m afraid, mi amore. Maybe later, when I have been Papa for a while…” He started to lean down to kiss the top of your head, then straightened up.
You eyed him again and took him back in your mouth, still stroking him with your hand. You could tell he was close. You quickened your pace, taking him deeper in your throat, nearly choking. He gripped your ponytail tightly, guiding you. Suddenly - he pulled out and stroked himself once, twice, until his warm cum dripped all over your lips, down your chin, down your breasts.
You held your mouth open to clean off his tip, licking his delicious seed, craving more, craving his cock inside you. He gazed lovingly in your eyes, and held your chin in his gloved hand. “So good, amore,” he whispered. You wanted to kiss him and make him taste himself on your mouth, but you stayed kneeled as you knew you’d have to do during the sermon. You had never been intimate without kissing before and you missed his soft, painted lips on yours.
He quickly zipped and buckled his pants and looked at you, helping you back to your feet. “Thank you, sweet Sister. They’ll er - clean you off during the sermon tomorrow when I go back to the pulpit,” he continued, gesturing to his spilled seed all over your chest.
You smiled to yourself, pleased with doing your part well. And selfishly, you knew you were in for a treat back in your bedchambers. Because Terzo never took what he gave twice over.
Italian to English Translation
- Cara mia (my darling)
- Puttana (whore)
- Cazzo (fuck)
- merda (shit)
- Porca miseria! (For God’s sake!)
- Prendilo tutto in gola, mia principessa perfetta (take it all down your throat, my perfect princess
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cardierreh15 · 2 months
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Queenie’s Beehive
Happy Black History Month my Loves!!! Who do yall think this story is based off of?
***I do not give anyone permission to repost, translate or copy my work!!!
Warnings 18+: Seducting Behavior/Dancing.
Pairings: Napoleon Solo x Queenie Covington(Black!OC)
Description: When Solo & Illya’s Leads point them in the direction of a club, Solo turns on his charm to get a word with the infamous Queenie Covington
Word Count: 4.1K
Song: Virgo’s Groove by Beyoncé , It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World by James Brown
Side Note(s): I changed the time to accommodate the story. I do not own or take credit for any of Beyoncé’s or James’ song ✨ Credit will always be theirs and theirs only 😊
The Beehive
Sacramento, California
February 5th, 1978
19:42 🐝
Napoleon looked down at the small brown business card. On the front in plain honey colored words were the address of the establishment. On the back was a beehive. That was it. Very minimalistic and straight to the point.
‘Interesting marketing strategy.’ Napoleon said as he passed the card over to his partner, Illya.
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Illya took a moment to take in the small yet fine work of art. ‘Hmm.’ Before he handed it back.
Once their cab slowly came to a stop by the curb, the two gentlemen thanked their driver and stepped out of the car.
They were immediately met with a beautiful yellow LED lamp screwed into the building; showing across their skeptical glances. The lights were shaped into that of a beehive with tiny twinkling yellow lights, resembling bumble bees.
Beyond those doors, beneath that heavenly designed neon lamp lay the disco highlife of the century.
Awaited by the door were two Gods amongst men. So tall they could touch the roof if they wanted, and muscles that could break bones. To the left and right of them were two separate lines, damn near wrapped around the building that were guarded by red rope.
Illya began to worry.
‘We’ll never get inside.’ He said plainly.
‘Do you not have faith my friend?’ At the flick of his wrist and a twitch of his fingers, the tiny invitation appeared in Napoleon’s fingertips.
‘More magic?’
‘Someone’s gotta like it.’ He smirked and leaned in, ‘Here’s the plan. We go inside, we split up, we listen. Try not to look suspicious please.’
‘Suspicious?’ Illya scoffed, ‘The only person here suspicious here, is you cowboy.’ Pointing at his partner.
Napoleon made a face and looked down at his fit. He was in a plain gray suit with a matching waistcoat, and a white crispy dress shirt and black dress shoes; his usual attire.
‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’
Illya on the other hand, sort of fit the bill. With a brown leather jacket with a turtleneck beneath, dark colored slacks and brown dress shoes to match. Oh, and his signature gray beret sat atop his blonde head.
‘You look like you’ve come to work and not to have fun.’ He rolled his eyes at his unwarranted pun.
‘In all technicality—‘
‘Yes, I know now can we go inside please?’
‘Perhaps. Do you remember your alias?’
Illya rolled his eyes as he head fell back, ‘Yes. I am a migrant here for work. You are a Wall Street journalist looking to have a conversation with the legendary Queen of Disco.’
He had a little bitterness in his voice. Napoleon caught on to that fairly quickly.
‘If you’d like, we can always trade places?’
Illya made a face, ‘Trade places? I am afraid that wouldn’t work.’
‘And why not?’
‘Because…’ Illya stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away. ‘you’re too small.’
A scowl curled up on Napoleon’s face at the insult, wanted so dearly to call him a bunch of curse words but he just cleared his throat and followed his partner towards the bouncers.
Once the men stood in front of the bouncer, Napoleon handed him the card.
The bouncer eyed the card closely, turning it back to front then pulled out a skinny pen like contraption. He clicked it on and a purple light shined down on the brown sheet. Revealing a bumble bee and a +1.
His big brown eyes flickered up from the card to Napoleon then over at Illya which he sized skeptically.
‘Who’s this.’
‘Oh? This is a friend of mine. He’s never been to an American club.’
‘Is that right?’ The bouncer said as he clicked off his pen and tucked it in his breast pocket. ‘Well, this is the perfect place to pop that cherry. Enjoy fellas.’
Napoleon carefully took the card and placed it inside of his breast pocket, ‘Thank you.’ And both of the men walked into the club.
As the men walked in, they were blinded by the bright twinkling lights of the many disco balls that hang on the ceiling along with over a dozen strobe lights dancing across the club.
The place was bustling and busy like nothing they’ve ever seen!
Like a Beehive!
Napoleon gently bobbed his head to the music as his crazed blue eyes danced amongst the floor, watching as gorgeous women of all colors and sizes grind and move their hips upon the dance floor.
It appeared that this mission was the least of his worries but, who he was going to be sneaking out of here with. That was until Illya landed a smack against his chest, knocking him out of whatever silly daze he was entrapped in.
‘Ow!’
‘Stay focus, cowboy. We’ve come to do a job.’
‘Yeah but who said we couldn’t have fun?’
‘Not you. You get carried away. Try not to blow our cover.’ Illya added before walking away in his stern manner.
Napoleon rolled his eyes and reached in his pocket to activate his voice recorder. Then he made his way across the bar which wasn’t far from the entrance.
As he walked over to the bar, he gazed at the dancing patrons, greeting everyone who’d passed to see if he could spot this special lady.
When he stopped at the bar, he took notice of the bartender. A woman, standing at great height. Must’ve been those thigh high platform boots. She had her back turned, cleaning out some glasses. This way he could admire her as she did so.
She had a big, beautiful Afro and wore this leather black and yellow striped short dress that hugged and defined her curves. Maybe this was her?
He cleared his throat loudly, ‘Excuse me bartender!’
The woman looked over her shoulder halfway in a startle, before quickly placing the glass and rag down. She spun around to greet him, her Afro bouncing with each movement. She wore big golden hoop earrings that twinkled and shined everytime the lights danced in her direction.
She flashed him this darling smile, with eyes brown as chocolate yet so bright with happiness and warmth. She was to die for!
‘What can I get for ya’ suga?’
Napoleon’s lips parted to speak but he all of a sudden felt shy. Truly unlike him. A burning heat rose to his cheeks, ‘Hi uh—‘ he looked at her chest which revealed her cleavage but her name tag rescued him from staring. ‘Flo… can I have scotch on the rocks please?’
‘You got it baby. Any particular kind?’
He stared up at the gorgeous brown skinned woman, almost disregarding the question— he cleared his throat and blinked hard once he realized he was staring again.
‘No— no,’ he chuckled, ‘Nothing in particular. How about you surprise me.’ He raised a brow, his own warming smile curling on his lips.
The two stared into one another’s eyes before a giggle left her lips, her dimples puncturing into her cheeks much deeper than before. ‘Alright na. You asked for it.’ She pushed off of the counter and started on his drink.
Napoleon smiled softly before he spun around halfway in his stool and began to gaze across the crowd. After a short moment, he spotted his partner standing off by the stage. Illya gave him a gentle nod of his head before Napoleon returned it in acknowledgment.
‘Here’s your drink, sugar.’
He quickly turned around and met the woman with another smile, ‘Thank you. How much do I owe ya?’
‘Nothin. It’s on the house.’
He raised a brow, ‘Is that so?’ That caught him by surprise really. He had been drugged in all different forms before, so taking a free drink always made him skeptical. ‘Am I like your 100th customer?’
‘No. I ain’t ever seen you here before, I wanted to welcome you here. People who wait outside those doors seldom get inside; just having a little shred of hope to even spend a second inside of this place.’
‘Hmm. Must be quite the place.’
‘You don’t think so?’ Flo asked, placing her hands on her hips.
‘Oh! Of course I think so. The women here are stunning.’ He gave her a quick size before straightening up, ‘Look. I refuse to drink this by myself. Lemme at least buy you one too?’
‘And drink on the job?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
A smirk was plastered on Flo’s face as she internally battled with herself.
‘Tik tok, love. I could practically hear the ice cracking.’ He teased, tapping the face of his watch with his index.
Flo inhaled deeply and rolled her eyes, ‘Alright, fine.’ Her southern draw had slightly peaked through, ‘Only cause you’re cute though.’
Napoleon smirked as she turned around where his smirk quickly faltered and he looked over his shoulder once again.
Once she was finished making her drink, she turned to face him and placed her glass down. ‘Alright—‘
‘Oh! One more thing sweetheart, could you pass me a straw?’
‘A straw?’ She raised a brow. ‘You don’t look like the kind of man that drinks his whiskey through a straw.’
‘Well there’s a lot you must learn about me baby.’
‘Alright then. Ask and you shall receive.’
While she was fulfilling her end of this bargain, Napoleon swiftly swapped their glasses before she could turn back around.
‘Here’s your straw. What should we toast to?’ She asked as she lifted up her glass.
‘Actually, I don’t need the straw… I just like to watch you work.’ He smirked as he wrapped her large hand around the glass that just seemed so miniscule in his palm.
Flo giggled rolling her eyes, ‘You flirt with all your bartenders like this?’
‘Oh dear no! I’m a one bartender kind of man. Actually, let’s toast to that. You being the most spectacular and gorgeous bartender that’s ever graced my presence.’
‘I can get down with that sugar.’ The woman winked as the both of them carefully clicked their glasses together.
Napoleon brought his drink to his lips slowly, watching Flo take a big swig out of hers before placing it down on the counter. No side effects hit her immediately… but perhaps they shall later.
As Napoleon embraced the welcoming warmth of his drink, he placed his glass down on the paper towel that she’d handled him. The space between them grew quiet for a second before he looked up at her. ‘What can you tell me about the person who owns this club?’
‘Who? Queenie? Why you wanna know?’
‘I’m a Wall Street Journalist. I’m looking to write an article about her success!’
Flo looked down at her watch and turned around to grab a rag and clean off her countertop. ‘Well, ion know if you can tell but… Queenie got her work cut out for her that’s for sho.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, her husband—‘
There it was. Exactly what he needed to further investigate.
‘Bought this place for her to solidify their marriage. I’ve been her friend for quite some time and never have I ever thought she would marry that grade A dickhead.’ Flo rolled her eyes.
‘Oh dear. What’s he like? How does he treat her?’
‘He worships the ground she walks on. But it often appears she couldn’t give less than a rats ass about him.’
‘Do you know how they met?’
‘She was singing in some lounge in Texas. That’s where we’re from.’
Napoleon was taking in all these minor details about this woman. He knew she would tell him everything he wanted to know… all she needed was a little motivation.
‘Right. And do you know what her husband does for work?’ He lacked the knowledge of that field, which was why he and Illya were here in the first place.
‘He owns a couple businesses as far as I know… i thought we were talking ‘bout Queenie though?’
Napoleon paused, ‘We are!’ He cleared his throat before taking a sip. He took notice of how she kept looking down at her watch, ‘Y’know the more you look at that thing—‘
‘“The slower time goes.” I know. But since you’re new here… it’s Friday Night.’ Her eyes glanced up at him.
‘Something special about Friday nights?’
Flo looked down at her watch one more time before a huge grin graced her face once more, ‘In fact… they are very special.’
Napoleon’s thick brows tugged into one as his face was written in incomprehensible confusion. Then, every light in the vicinity of the club shut off without warning. A few short squeals floated across the room in dismay.
Startled, Napoleon stood to his feet as he went into panic mode, afraid that he and Illya had been bested. His bright blue eyes fought desperately to adjust in the darkness. But in seconds, a sweet and groovy melody filled the air.
‘Baby, come overrrr.
Baby, come overrrr.
Baby, come over. Come be alone with me tonight.
Beehiiiive!!!’
A woman sang lewdly over the sound of the speakers.
‘Don’t be scared babies. Queen Bee won’t hurt you.’
Napoleon’s eyes had finally adjusted somewhat but he had yet to find Illya.
A big yellow spotlight shined on the stage revealing a band to the left and 3 back up singers who harmonized angelically. Three women with big poofy Afros donned with fresh flowers. They wore something similar to what Flo wore just instead of short dresses, they were flared pants; covered in black and yellow rhinestones.
They shined like stars on that stage.
Napoleon finally spotted Illya who hadn’t even left the spot.
‘All these emotions. It’s washing over me tonight.’
Once the room gained its groove back, Napoleon looked back to see that Flo had disappeared from her post.
He raised his brow in suspicion before he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Illya.
‘I saw you flirting with the bartender.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I was gathering intel.’
‘And?’
‘She knows just as much as we do.’ Napoleon sighed as they both turned to look at the charade.
That was until this huge disco ball began to slowly descend from the ceiling.
The two men's lips parted in disbelief.
Eventually, she was revealed standing on top of this gigantic ball. She had this beautiful smile plastered on her face as she greeted the crowd with alluring harmonizing.
She almost sounded like a siren; gracing the masses with her deathly hymns.
But when he saw her face, there was no way she could be something so sinister and evil. She was… ethereal. An angel in disguise of a woman who could snatch the soul from any man who dared looked in her direction.
Napoleon was stunned.
‘How are we doing tonight my worker bees?’ She grinned as the crowd beneath her cheered with blissful enthusiasm. ‘Yeeeeah!’ She laughed happily as she continued to scan the crowd.
‘That must be—‘
‘Queenie Covington.’ Napoleon felt like he couldn’t breathe. This was fan behavior! She was not what he’d imagined her to be.
Both of the men watched the woman carefully descend from the ball with the help of her security guards. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back like sacred waterfalls. She wore a bedazzled tank top, matching bedazzled light denim shorts and high metallic silver fringed boots.
She shined brighter than any star they’d ever seen.
Baby come over, come be alone with me tonight.
All these emotions,
It’s rushing over me tonight— AH!
Ride it!
‘What is the plan now, cowboy?’ Illya asked.
‘What plan?’ Napoleon retorted.
‘You don’t have a plan.’
‘You think I knew she was doing an open mic tonight?!’ Napoleon huffed as his pink nose flared with aggravation, ‘We’ll figure it out.’
As Queenie began to croon over that melody once again, the flashing lights glowed into this magnificent yellow hue causing her glow light gold. Her eyes were closed as she allowed the music to embrace and be one with her soul. And when her hazel eyes fluttered back open, her eyes cut across the room towards the two men at the bar who seemed to be bickering at one another. Though, that didn’t take her out of her sensual groove.
‘Look after her performance, she may come to the bar to have a drink.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
Napoleon inhaled deeply, holding it there as he tried to think of something. ‘Then we’ll do what we always do.’
Illya knew that specific plan and a lot of the time it involved them both getting damn near getting caught.
‘Oh no. Not this again.’
‘Not this again? What choice do we have? She’s the only lead that we have on him. We must exhaust all options.’
‘Sure. Whatever.’
Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.
(Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.)
It’s only gonna get you high!
Baby come over.
The boys watched in amazement as the woman swayed and rocked her hips as her own hands made love to her own thighs, belly and breasts.
Queenie cut her eyes back at the two gentlemen back at the bar once again; particularly the one in the suit. He surely stuck out like a sore thumb. And most of her folks here were regulars.
That star struck glare in his eyes was also very telling. She always did enjoy seeing men gawk over her. So with a smile and a wink, she began to moan her lyrics.
Don’t you leave. (me)
Don’t you leave.
So use me. (Use me)
Pursue me. (Pursue me)
Kiss me where you bruise me. (Bruise me)
Oooh weee—
Taste me, the fleshy part.
I scream so loud, I curse the stars!!!
Napoleon gulped hard, reaching in the collar of his dress shirt and tugged at it as he felt his temperature rising.
Illya glanced over at Napoleon and smirked as he took in this canon moment. ‘Has Casanova finally met his match?’
Without taking his eyes off of her, Napoleon groaned, ‘Shut up.’
As she adlibed and add those heavenly high and lows, the song had come to a beautiful close.
‘Thank you.’ She grinned happily as the audience blessed her with a healthy applause .
‘Thank you so much everyone for coming. Being able to perform in front of an energetic crowd is always a true blessing. Please, enjoy the rest of your night sugars and stay groovy.’
They gave her one more applause as she brought her hands together in prayer and bowed in their wake. She then swiftly turned around to speak to her back up singers.
Napoleon narrowed his eyes, taking note of the smiling group of women. It was nice to know that she and those that worked with and/or for her got along fairly well. Then, she excused herself and went backstage.
‘Did you enjoy the performance?’
The two gentlemen jumped at the sudden voice, one that was familiar to Napoleon alone. They turned around to see Flo standing there with a knowing smirk on her full lips.
‘Where did you go?’ Napoleon’s head fell to the side.
‘Oh. I help engineer those pretty lights and what have you. Just some techy junk.’ She smirked and glanced over at Illya. ‘Who’s your friend here?’
Well, the story seems to check out. Though, he didn’t know why she needed to be so suspenseful.
‘This is uh—‘
‘Alex—‘ Illya looked over at Napoleon before looking back ahead at the bartender. ‘My name is Alexsander.’
Napoleon looked back at Flo who gave them both a strange glare. ‘Alright, Alex…sander. Could I get you a drink, sweet baby?’
‘No ma’am. I’m actually here for work.’
‘Well I think we may have something open for security… you sure do fit the bill though.’ A smirk curled on her lips as her head fell to the side. She was checking Illya out.
Napoleon raised a brow with a smirk as the two began to converse with one another. It was about time Illya blew off some kind of steam.
‘Flo, hey.’
Napoleon watched her walk up to the bar and pull herself onto the empty seat beside him. Thee Queenie Covington. Their whole mission, sitting not even a whole foot away from him.
“You are not to sleep with Mrs. Covington under any circumstances, Solo.”
Well it was a good thing he didn’t make promises.
‘Give me the usual.’ She added.
When Flo’s and Illya’s conversation came to a close, he and Napoleon leaned into one another.
‘Just start casual conversation. Perhaps she’ll give us everything we need.’
‘Not to worry.’ He pulled away and turned halfway in his seat, ‘Excuse me, Miss. Queenie I am sorry for the intrusion but—‘
‘No autographs right now sugar.’ She said in a hurry as Flo placed her wine glass in front of her.
This is a man’s world! This is a man’s world!
‘I’m sorry Miss. Queenie I’m not here for an autograph. My name is Napoleon and I’m with the Wall Street Journal. I’d like to honor you in our newspaper.’
She had brought her wine up to her full lips and took a long sip. ‘Mmm! Napoleon? Like the little French dude? You don’t strike me as a “Napoleon”.’
‘What do I strike you as then?’
But it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing — without a woman or a girl.
‘Hmm…’ her head fell to the side as her pretty eyes roamed all over his handsome features.
She breathed him in and my what a breath of fresh air he was. The colors and the lights that danced across his face only seem to enhance the shadows and curvature of his jaw, making his face appear more masculine. Then, every once in a while a yellow light would flash over his eyes, causing them to glow like high beams.
‘I don’t know… maybe a “Henry” or a “David”. Definitely not a short little man with a God complex.’ She giggled, her full lips pulled back to reveal that dazzling smile once more.
He chuckled as his head fell in slight embarrassment. He should’ve changed his damn name.
‘You know I’ve heard that before.’
‘I bet you have.’ Queenie smirked as she took another sip from her glass, ‘So, what is it that I need from me, Napoleon?’
‘I just want to ask you a few questions if you have time?’
‘Yeah, I sup—‘
‘Mrs. Covington?!’ A tall lean male came rushing over to the bar, carefully pushing folks out of the way.
Goddammit.
Queenie rolled her eyes and turned around to meet the gentleman’s gaze, ‘Oh dear, what is it now? I’m in the middle of something!’
‘Yes but it’s your husband ma’am.’
‘Oh? Is the fool finally dying? I’m having a meeting.’
Napoleon took notice of how her mood quickly shifted from something light and fun to something else when her husband was brought up.
Her attitude was so fierce and sharp, you could see how it cut and tore through the gentleman’s ego. Napoleon found himself smirking a little.
‘It’s… it’s important ma’am. He demands your presence.’
She stared up at him for a long moment before letting out a deep breath through her nose and shook her head. ‘Fine. Please just— give me a second to finish my drink.’
The male in all black bowed his head and took a step back to give the woman privacy.
‘Mrs. Covington…’
‘Dear heavens, Mr. Napoleon I am so very sorry. You’ve come all this way to meet me and I have to leave.’ She sighed once again before knocking back the rest of her wine. She was gonna need it dealing with that god forsaken man.
As frustrated as Napoleon was, he couldn’t step out of character so he just gave her a gentle smile.
‘No need to apologize, Mrs. Covington. Perhaps another day? Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’
‘I should be. Maybe we can have brunch. Since this is my screw up, on me.’
‘Nooo, no ma’am. I won’t have it, it’s just a minor inconvenience—‘
‘Are you telling me no?’
The woman stared at him with eyes that searched his soul. Digging in every nook and cranny to figure out who he was.
And to her surprise, he didn’t buckle or break. He wasn’t like most men it appeared. His gaze remained on hers.
‘I’m telling you not to treat me. I don’t think it’s fair.’
‘Hmm.’ She hummed softly as she smirked and stood from her seat. ‘Alright. Meet me here tomorrow at 11:45am. Don’t be late.’
‘You lack faith in me Mrs. Covington.’
Queenie raised her brow and began to walk away, her slightly swaying hips making a statement. Then she paused and turned halfway to meet his gaze once again.
‘Oh and Sugar?’ She called out over the swelling of the music.
But it wouldn’t be nothing— nothing!! Without a woman or a girl.
He blinked and lifted his chin in response to her voice.
‘Call me Queenie.’
Random Tags: @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @headcannonxgalore @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx @peternoonewantsthat @deandoesthingstome @peachyvulpixie
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adore-laur · 4 months
Text
JOYRIDE
— corruption in tokyo brings two partners together again to seek retribution while also fulfilling their desires🚦
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ハリー
Midnight in Tokyo. 
The city transforms into a neon jungle once the moon takes the stage. Illusionary indigo and hot pink advertisements scale the sides of skyscrapers, their vibrant pixels reflecting off the slick thoroughfares bestrewed with puddles. Cosmopolitan emporiums attract visitors like clusters of moths drawn to a flame, ranging from luxury retail stores to vintage boutiques that line the sidewalks. Many diverse eateries sit snug in the passageways, the limited seating where conversations are struck with writers and poets alike. Whimsical art sculptures placed in hidden spots showcase Japanese culture, and the expressive pieces greet tourists from around the world. 
It's an urban utopia straight out of a futuristic fantasy. 
Digging deeper into the complex metropolis, right in the heart of the infamous Kabukicho District, is where nightlife is most vivacious. Foreigners flock to clubs and bars for ritzy entertainment and exuberant thrills. Alleyways conceal doorways to more private establishments, their explicit thresholds exposed by flickering arrows that guide those who dare to enter. It's sinfully atmospheric, the smell of smoke and sex lingering past the brick walls lit by dangling paper lanterns. 
The vicinity is two sides of the same coin. In the daytime, families wander through a maze of honorable restaurants and hotels, but at night, the devil comes out to play. Risqué signs lead to unlawful pleasure. Curtains cover hostess clubs of endless inebriation. Intimate shops are out in the open to pique the interest of innocents. 
However, on this rainy November night, Harry Styles seeks only one unholy cove. He doesn't need to be lured into it by silhouetted street hawkers. Ignoring them is easy when the red light just around the corner holds his true desire. 
As his polished dress shoes clack against the wet pavement, a black umbrella looming over his head, he fishes into his trouser pocket to snag a piece of chewing gum. He unwraps the aluminum, pops the green gum into his mouth, folds the rubbery substance using his tongue, stretches it between his two front teeth, and then bites down on it with his back molars. A refreshing burst of spearmint hits the back of his throat, crisp and cool. He begins whistling a catchy tune he heard on the metro subway the other day, the trill echoing off the narrow walls surrounding him. New graffiti on them catches his attention. Considering the city strictly prohibits street art, it's a rare find, so he admires the esoteric visuals before they're removed by patrolling police. 
Taking a sharp left, the top of Harry's shadow reaches his destination before he does. He stops in his tracks and breathes in the hazy air. Smoke seeps under the rusted garage door, and the muffled bass coming from inside is a straight injection into his veins. The Japanese script, emboldened by neon red, spells out the name of the strip club. 
ジョイライド 
JOYRIDE 
Guarded by a towering man in a black suit and maroon tie, it's the only barrier left. Luckily, Harry is well-versed when it comes to sneaking into elite establishments. He shakes his umbrella out, the droplets creating ripples in the asphalt pools beneath his feet. A step under the hipped awning saves his expensive clothing from becoming soaked. His long, houndstooth blazer of a dreary grey color and a dotted scarf wrapped once around his neck make him blend in nicely with the darkness. 
Harry clears his throat and politely bows to the daunting watchman. "Kobanwa," he greets, hiding the gum under his tongue out of courtesy. (Good evening.) 
"Kon'nichiwa," says the man with a reciprocated bow. "Anata no mōshide wa nanidesu ka?" (Hello. What is your offer?) 
Opening the breast pocket of his blazer, Harry plucks out three bills. He unfolds the creased paper one by one, revealing the printed face of an esteemed writer and a five-digit number representing a hefty amount of yen. His desire is worth significantly more, but he'll undoubtedly be spending the rest of what's tucked in his wallet for reasons that will never be publicly disclosed. 
"Sakura," Harry says with unwavering eye contact. 
He only needs to speak a single name for the man to challengingly stare back for three seconds. He then takes the yen and inspects it for possible counterfeit, his nimble fingers flipping the banknotes over with a particular procedure. After an anticipatory moment of crinkling sounds and drowned-out electronic music, he raps a rhythmic knock on the garage behind him. It instantly lifts with a grinding creak, the smoke releasing from underneath and crawling up Harry's legs like ivy on a brick wall. 
"Anata no norimono o tanoshinde kudasai." (Enjoy your ride.) 
Harry gives the man a fixed smile and then enters his paradise. Weeks of lousy business trips that required him to globetrot across continents have led to this. Tokyo always has something sensational in store for him. He comes back to the sleepless city time and time again for the unpredictability. 
Disappointment doesn't exist here — escapade does. 
The metal stairs leading to the underground club are grungy and steep, so Harry uses the shaft of his umbrella as a makeshift cane to traverse down the dilapidated steps. Every footfall ends in a squeak until he reaches the velvet carpet at the bottom. Thumping music loudens, the scent of cigarettes grows stronger, and the beat of his heart pounds faster in anticipation. 
Red curtains are suspended in front of him, and distant chatter that eclectically ranges from foreign to familiar dialect echoes from behind them. Harry sets his umbrella by the nearby coat rack, then takes his scarf and blazer off to hang them next to a pristine suit jacket. He takes a glimpse at his own suit. It's black cashmere with a contrasting white button-up underneath and a silk tie. He adjusts the collar, tugs on the lapels, and swiftly unclasps the single button. With a final ruffle of his flattened hair and a crack of his neck, he's ready for total immersion. 
Pushing the curtains aside, he crosses the threshold. There's no turning back now. 
The seductive ambiance immediately invades every one of his senses. There's red everywhere. The spacious room holds the key to subliminal distraction, from the ruby wallpaper to the vermillion leather booths. It's a sub-rosa room where players can have fun after dusk. Every soul that wanders in leaves with a newfangled perspective on the divine beauty of women. At least that's what Harry left with the first time he traipsed in as a fresh face from Europe, a wax-sealed invitation in his hesitant grasp. 
He wouldn't call himself a loyal customer, per se. He's not dependent on the half-empty glasses of Yamazaki malt whiskey presented to him on serving trays, only to be respectfully declined. Nor does he come for the puffed cigars and joints perched between persuasive fingertips and lips. 
No, it's the stage in his peripheral he floats toward. It's where his desire lies. 
His Sakura. 
She's on the round stage amid her nightly performance, one leg hooked around a silver pole protruding from the middle of the platform. A red spotlight shines down on her contorted body, her limbs reaching out like slender branches of a cherry blossom tree. Her long hair is snaked into six braids, four twisted up high and two tinier ones falling over her forehead. The audience of men, some standing close and some sitting in booths, piercingly whistle over the loud music while throwing wads of yen at her when she spins into an upside-down position with ease, gripping the pole using just her ankles. It gives everyone a full view of her leather bodysuit, the glossy black material with cutouts revealing peeks of smooth, brown skin. 
Harry stuffs a hand in his pocket and lingers at the back of the club where no one can pester him with invasive questions about his intentions. They don't understand. He's not here to 'get some,' as they often assume. Sure, he'll leave the place feeling satisfied, but they don't know he gets to take home the woman they're currently fawning over. 
Her pole dancing performance nears its end, with a final layer of smoke hovering over the circular platform. The mystique she exudes as she slides into an effortless split is tantalizing. Harry swallows thickly as his hand curls into a fist, every fiber of his being practically itching to be alone with her. He never grows tired of watching her, yet he's utterly addicted to what happens in their designated private room. 
The red spotlight switches to a bright white, and his Sakura smiles dazzlingly while collecting the bills thrown her way. Harry smirks and applauds, then pushes off the wall to give her his own special offering. This part seems to always occur in slow motion for him. His eyes are locked onto her as he waits until she catches his hypnotic gaze. He weaves through the crowd while chewing on his now flavorless gum, mumbling apologies when he bumps into people's drunken sways until he finally reaches the stage. Slightly opening his suit, he reaches into the interior breast pocket and pulls out a plucked cherry blossom. Technically speaking, he breaks the law every time he acquires the pink symbolism of human existence, but it's of little consequence to his morals. He has much worse crimes under his belt. 
Harry gently holds out the blossom amidst flying yen, a pastel pink delicacy in a sea of brown riches. The following moments play out like a scene in a movie. Time seems to freeze as he homes in on the sound of her high heels clicking closer. He steadily looks up, taking in her tall legs and heaving chest. She tucks a few yen in the tight seam of her bodysuit, then provides him with her undivided attention. 
"For me?" she mouths over the deafening music. 
His lips break into a wide smile at the sound of her euphonic voice he so longingly missed. "Always for you."
Bending down, she takes the cherry blossom from him and brings it under her nose. Her eyes flutter shut as she smells the fragrant flower. It's flattering that no matter how often she's received one, she still sticks it behind her ear like she does now. 
The surrounding men marvel over her, but they'll be distracted soon enough. Two more poles emerge from the stage, and a group of stripper girls come out to continue the regularly scheduled show. Harry doesn't lose focus on his Sakura, simply backing away slowly and jerking his head toward the VIP rooms. It's a drill he aims to follow through with zero problems arising. Almost everyone here is a stranger, so that means they cannot be trusted in the slightest. It's why he doesn't speak to them. If any outsiders find out about the dirty business he deals with on the side, it's a downhill slope into deep trouble. 
Harry stops at the opposite side of the room and faces another security guard, but this time, it's one he knows quite well. "Ryōji," he says while bowing. "O-genki desu ka?" (How are you?) 
Ryōji bows and withdraws a small gold key from one of the ten hooks behind him. "Okaeri nasai," he responds. (Welcome back.) 
Welcome back, indeed. Harry quickly glances around and then places a heavy hand on Ryōji's shoulder, leaning in so no one else can hear him. In English, he murmurs, "We've got another one out back. Do you think you can get some men to handle it before sunrise? I'll have the money sent to you by next week." 
The deep inhalation Ryōji takes always makes him nervous. A dreadful silence passes before he says, "Yes, sir. Any special instructions?" 
Harry gives him a friendly pat on the arm and takes the key. "Just the usual. She already took care of the hard part." 
"As you wish." 
With that, Harry gratefully nods and then walks into the back area, where several red doors, some open and some closed, present themselves in a semi-circular fashion. Steering to the right, he throws his gum away and goes to the door with a black '七' on it. 
Lucky number seven for a joyride in heaven. 
The room is a perfect size, with curtains hanging over the walls for a more intimate experience. Two velvet couches are placed on either side, and a table with glasses and a bottle of an unknown alcoholic drink sits nearby. And, of course, a red light emits from the low ceiling. 
Harry gets comfortable, tugging his pant legs and sitting on the plush couch. Precious time ticks by, the songs slowing into more sultry beats as he waits. He checks his diamond-encrusted wristwatch — it's half past midnight, yet he doesn't feel tired. Maybe it's the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Only the mysterious aura of Tokyo can bring him an electric charge like no other. 
At last, Desiree struts into the room and daintily falls sideways into his lap. Her stripper name is Sakura, but her real name is used when she's alone with him. She jumps right in and holds his scruffy cheek, kissing all over his face as the red lipstick she wears stamps evidence on his flushed skin. 
"I've missed you," she whispers in his ear. 
Harry holds her waist and rolls his hips for some relief. "It's all my fault, isn't it? I've been so busy." 
Desiree takes the key from him and quickly locks the door. When she returns, she straddles him and says, "You came back to me, though." 
He nips her neck, short and tender. "I got your text message and flew straight here." 
She grips his chin. "That message wasn't about seeing me." 
Harry swallows thickly, his throat suddenly parched. "We don't need to talk about that right now," he murmurs. 
"But it will be dealt with?" she asks, her eyebrows dipping with concern. 
"Yes, my love." 
"Okay." She gently passes her thumb over his eyelashes like they're pages of a well-loved book. "That's all I need to hear." 
Harry distracts himself from the dangerous subject by twirling one of her braids around his pointer finger. "I like it when you wear your hair like this, Desi. So pretty."
"Yeah?" 
"Mm-hmm. I've gone far too long without you." 
She begins loosening his tie. "Tell me what you need." 
Sifting through his brain, Harry contemplates his options. The club doesn't allow actual intercourse inside its perimeters, so there are limited, albeit creative, methods that are used. Desiree once told him that the strippers are given a manual of all the diverse ways they can please a customer. There was a specific one he heard her briefly mention in passing. At the time, he was too shy to ask for more details, so he went home and researched the term. Needless to say, it sounded worthwhile. 
"Can I have the... red light special? Is that what it's called?" 
Desiree smirks and remarks, "That's new. You've never asked for that before." 
He blushes with a lackadaisical shrug. "Sorry. Being edged just sounds really fuckin' good right now." 
"Why are you apologizing?" She pushes lightly on his chest so he can comfortably lean against the couch. "Relax. Let me take care of you." 
Harry couldn't possibly argue, especially when she doesn't waste any time and starts with a green light. Gripping his shoulders, she smoothly rocks into his body with quick movements. His hands knead her ass, the bodysuit bestowing the perfect amount of skin for him to grab. The tension in his muscles alleviates as she applies pressure to his growing bulge, every perpetual grind making him harder by the minute. His eyes and neck roll back, and he forgets why he was ever stressed hours prior and instead succumbs to the satisfying ache she provides him. 
"Oh, my God," Harry moans, spreading his legs further apart. "Fuck, Desi, you feel so good. I'm all yours." 
She bites her bottom lip and moves her hips counterclockwise. The switch has Harry gritting his teeth. Shuddering, he opens his mouth and pathetically whimpers while running his hands up her clenched thighs. He feels hot — sweaty, sticky, and salaciously hot. He's burning in a blitz of fiery passion. 
Yellow light is when Desiree slows down, still grinding swivels over his pelvis. The throbbing of his cock ceases, and the buildup disappears momentarily. Her back arches as she uses her height over him to palm him with her hand. Leisurely, she squeezes where the head of his cock is through his pants, and a sensitive tingle rushes down his spine as he bites down on his knuckles to suppress his pleading noises. 
"Does that feel nice?" she asks, kissing his slack jaw. 
Harry's face crumbles in submission. "I need to come. It feels so tight, I- I can't take it anymore." 
Red light. He knows he asked for it, but when she stops moving and stands before him, he reaches for her absent touch. "No, come back. C'mon, please. Stop playing around." 
She ignores him and kneels on the ground. With one finger, she trails it up his inner thigh until it reaches his covered cock. She fondles with the length of it, erotically squeezing in all the right places while looking at him with eyes of a rich brown color. He often dreams of her mouth puckered around it, wet lips and hollowed cheeks making him fall apart. 
Suddenly, his tie is removed, and Desiree holds it up. "Are you ready?" 
"I'm so close," Harry breathes out. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he adds, "You're so gorgeous, do you know that? Got me... shit, I'm absolutely aching for you." 
She stuffs the tie in his mouth and finally straddles him again, riding his thighs to bring him to his peak. His moans are muffled against the fabric as she gives him a lap dance, her body rolling to the R&B music from the distant speakers. 
It doesn't take long for Harry to come, a damp spot forming on his pants shortly after. Every part of his body feels light as he spits his tie out, breathing heavily. He really needed this. 
"Ready to leave this place?" he asks, touching himself until he's soft and able to walk.
Desiree kisses him, her tongue delving into his mouth, before nodding. "Are you taking me on another joyride?" 
Harry smirks and wipes off the lipstick stain she left on the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Full throttle, baby." 
                                          ——
                                      デザレイ 
The first thing Desiree sees when rounding the corner of the alleyway is a parked Kawasaki motorcycle. 
The rain has let up, only a light drizzle now falling from the starlit sky. People still pass by with umbrellas, minding their business. The lights outside are stimulating, with signs above casting fuchsia pink and Prussian blue hues over her and Harry's faces. The air reeks of gasoline and smoke, vehicles racing past to hop on the expressway. It's a city of nocturnal souls who get off on cheap thrills, and she couldn't help but get hooked on the appeal. Night crawling on a high-speed bike through the neon streets is the most thrilling adventure she can imagine. 
Harry rents out a different motorcycle every time he visits. When they first met, he told her he owned a marketing firm in London, so he had the money to afford such luxuries. The first time he walked into the club, she thought he would be like everyone else — a drunk and lonesome man needing attention. However, he was actually a man of innocence who stumbled upon an underground scene he wasn't expecting. She saw the intrigue in his eyes and taught him how her world worked. She let him choose what he desired without taking advantage of him. She trusted his intentions and let him see every side of her, saintly or sinful. 
Their journey leads to the eager way he's looking at her now, one gloved hand holding out a helmet and the other gripping the motorcycle's handlebar. 
"Ladies first," he says with a playful smile. 
Desiree tightens the belt on her blood-red leather coat and puts the helmet on. It rubs uncomfortably against her hair, but she's not one to place beauty above safety precautions. She then hikes a leg over the back seat, and Harry does the same motions while straddling the front seat and starting the engine. It rumbles to life when he squeezes the clutch, and he attractively revs the engine three times. 
"All good?" Harry calls out behind him, using the back of his shoe to kick up the kickstand. 
She wraps both arms around his waist and props her chin on his shoulder. "So good." 
Reaching back to squeeze her thigh, he speeds into the fast lane. For the next twenty minutes, the brisk wind blows in her ears, and the feeling of flying overtakes her entire body. She spreads her arms, and Tokyo comes alive just for her, blurry colors whooshing past as they accelerate through traffic on the winding expressway. They ride out of the district and towards Marunouchi, where the Shangri-La Hotel is located. With five stars and eleven floors of pure splendor, it's the best place to have a late-night rendezvous. 
When they eventually pull up to the hotel, a rectangular building made entirely of glass panes, Harry parks the motorcycle and kills the engine. Desiree carefully removes her helmet and fixes her hair the best she can. Her makeup feels tacky against her skin, but the cool air of an autumn night is refreshing. She looks over to see Harry do the same, his hair sticking up every which way. He sheepishly grins at her and rolls his eyes. 
"Hurry up," Desiree says through chattering teeth. She bounces on her heels, feeling the ache travel from her ankles to the tips of her toes. 
"All right, all right," Harry mumbles jokingly, holding his hand out. "I'll have a word with Raijin about the inadequate weather." 
"Studying Japanese deities, are we?" 
Interlocking her numb fingers with his, they head inside the lavish lobby and take the elevator to the seventh floor. The ride is quiet, and exhaustion finally catches up to them. After six beeps, a more prolonged one sounds, and the doors slide open. They walk down the narrow hallway to the back, where the suites are located. Harry swipes his key card and twists the door handle to go inside, Desiree following closely. 
The suite is as tidy and stylish as one would expect from a businessman staying there. Two designer-brand suitcases are stacked in the corner by the running air conditioner. A housekeeper must have cleaned and organized his belongings. Crisp white sheets on the king bed look quintessential for bundling up in. 
Desiree removes her heels and flops on the firm mattress. She blearily watches Harry open the mini fridge by the door, hearing the clink of beer bottles. Her assumption proves correct when one is thrown beside her, yet her body has no energy left to open the cap and drink the bitter liquid. 
Harry takes off his suit jacket and button up, then sits against the headboard and spreads his legs on either side of her sprawled-out body. He takes a swig of beer, his jawline sharp and his throat bobbing. His bare torso, decorated with tattoos, looks like the perfect pillow, so Desiree shimmies upwards to lay her head on his abdomen. She listens to his subtle breathing.
"So, how'd you kill him?" 
Well, that's one way to initiate a conversation. Desiree snaps her eyes to his, staring at him a little funny due to her position. "Katana," she answers casually. "Quick and easy." 
He hums, sets his beer on the nightstand, and then delicately untangles her two front braids. "Made a mess, huh? Ryōji's men won't be too happy about that." 
She fidgets with one of her loose acrylic nails. "They've dealt with worse cleanups." 
She knew what she was getting into when she decided to work in Tokyo's Red Light District. There's no way to sugarcoat what goes down in the alleyways. It doesn't feel like a crime to her if she's getting rid of the bad guys. It's justified in her mind. 
Harry moves his hands to undo her bigger braids. "I know," he says softly, "but it's getting riskier. And more expensive on my end." 
Sighing, Desiree replies, "Asphyxiation is so boring, though. I like my swords." 
"Desi, I'm serious." He tilts her head to look at her straight on. "It worries me when you do those types of killings, and I'm not here to handle the outcome. What if something were to go wrong?" 
She frowns. "We're a team. You flew out to me without hesitation when I told you my plan." 
"Yes, but you act on impulse sometimes," he says, putting her elastic ponytail around his wrist. "I can't always do that with my job. You're lucky I was available." 
"So, you only came to help with the repercussions? Not to see me?" 
"You know that's not true. If it was, I'd be on a plane back to London right now instead of spending the night with you in Tokyo." 
"Just making sure," she says with a hidden undertone of insecurity. 
Once all six braids are out, her hair frizzy and free, Desiree sits up and takes her suffocating coat off. Underneath, she has a more comfortable outfit that she changed into before leaving the club. She internally debates whether she wants to go through the hassle of taking everything off, but before she can thoroughly weigh her options, Harry reaches over to open the nightstand drawer, pulling out something crinkly.
"I, uh, bought some makeup wipes," he explains while fidgeting with the package. "I didn't know what brand you use, but it's coconut, and I know you like coconut rum. There's no correlation, but it's the thought that counts, right?" 
Desiree is speechless for a moment. This is the first time he's done something like that. "Th-thanks. Can you help me take it off?" she suggests quietly. 
"'Course. Scoot over." 
She takes one side of the bed and sits cross-legged in front of Harry as he plucks a wipe. He folds it into a compact square four times and then hovers it over her face. His gaze wanders a bit before he starts gently swiping under her eyes. 
He speaks up again once the air conditioner clicks off. "Can I ask, pray tell, why you killed him?" 
Desiree breathes out a laugh. "Funny," she says as he scrubs the pigmented blush off her cheeks. "I remember when you couldn't even stomach asking me that question. Now you do all the dirty side work." 
Harry shrugs. "You're a bad influence." 
Sage advice from two people who dabble in reincarnating as a more sadistic Bonnie and Clyde: It's remarkably more fun to have a loyal partner in crime than to be a lone outlaw. 
"Let's see," she muses with a dramatic flair. "His name was... fuck if I know. All I was told was that he was a gang member who lured young girls in and brainwashed them into committing crimes around Shinjuku for money worth jack squat." 
"Jesus. What about the other gang members?" he asks, wiping her smeared lipstick off. 
"I'm not too worried about them. They would never suspect a stripper at Joyride killed one of their own. They'll probably assume it was another gang's doing." 
"That's a relief." Harry yawns and tosses the dirtied makeup wipe into the nearby garbage. "All right, I've had enough of killer talk. Shall we get some sleep?" 
Desiree grins tiredly and touches the smoothness of her bare face. "We shall. My body aches." 
Stripping takes a toll on her joints and muscles, especially since she incorporates performance art into her dancing. Untreated strains and torn ligaments have been left in the past due to years of training, but residual pain still lingers each night when she steps off the stage. 
Once they're comfortable under the sheets, Desiree curls into Harry's warm chest. "When do I have you until?" she asks reluctantly. 
He wraps an arm over her back and says, "Tomorrow night." 
She recounts all the times he's had to catch a red-eye flight immediately after they would arrive at the hotel. Tonight, she's lucky she gets him a little longer than usual. 
"It's better than nothing." 
Harry scrunches her hair and leaves a long kiss on her temple. "You can always come back to Europe with me," he murmurs. The scent of beer wafting in his breath is mouth-watering. 
Desiree shakes her head solemnly. "I can't. I belong here." 
"I understand." She feels him smile before kissing her head once more. "A cherry blossom should stay in Japan, right?" 
"Very clever." She closes her eyes. There's an elongated pause of internal reflection before she continues. "Listen, I don't want you to feel trapped. I don't want you to feel like I'm using you." 
Harry rubs the sore muscles around her shoulder blades. "I don't feel that way. I chose to get involved with how you live your life. If I'm being honest, I quite enjoy the danger of it." 
It's easy for him to say when he only has to deal with the business side of it. A pipeline of recruitment occurred where Shyla loosely hired Harry to hire men who would dispose of the dead bodies she threw in the dumpster behind the club. No one dares to roam that haunted alleyway, which makes it the most adequate place to safely hide a killing. Then, he pays them handsomely in cash for successfully completing the treacherous deed. 
Desiree cups his cheek and whispers, "Please... just tell me if it ever gets too much and you want out. I'll find someone else." 
"It's never too much when your intentions are good." 
It's not enough. His safety is her top priority. 
"Tell me to stop, and I will," she says sternly. "Give me the red light, and I'll go to Europe with you. You can show me Buckingham Palace and that stupid clock—" 
"Desi," Harry interrupts with a thumb against her parted lips. "I will tell you if it gets to that point, okay?" 
She takes his large hand and holds onto it like it's the last time she'll ever touch his skin. "Promise me." 
"Yakusoku." (Promise.) 
His spoken oath doesn't mend the problem she has with herself. There's a constant battle whenever she thinks too deeply about what she participates in. She questions whether it was a mistake getting involved in cover-up assassinations and bringing Harry into it. He used to be innocent. Someone who discovered the darker side of Tokyo and is now stuck in the whirlwind of her immoral faults. Did she make him into a brand-new person? A monster? One that knows her crimes and prevents them from becoming exposed? 
Is it wrong that she fell for him in the process? 
She can never tell him. No, that would complicate things beyond the boundary lines she drew for herself long before she met him. There are too many risks when feelings are a factor — risks of turning on each other if there are relationship issues. Then there's the plain and straightforward risk of barely seeing each other in person. It's all too poisonous of a pool to dip her feet into. Her guard is up, and it's not coming down for anything or anyone. 
However, as Desiree drifts into a dreamland, she realizes her guard is lower whenever Harry is around. With his fingers soothingly scratching up and down her aching spine, she doesn't feel the uncertainty that always clouds her mind when he's not beside her. It clears when she awakes to the smell of brewing coffee and room service breakfast on a cart before she can even open her eyes. It gnaws at her boarded-up heart until the pieces chip away. What's left is a vulnerable girl who seeks refuge but can't leave a place of fortune and frisson. She's a moon in broad daylight. 
Does she want to be saved? Or does the red light call her name for a reason? 
——
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dodiebeeps · 9 months
Text
Cecaelia!Deku
midoriya izuku x reader
wc: 2.1K
summary: You're friends with a cecaelia. Scientifically, he's an outlier to everything known in marine biology. Personally, he's a companion you can't get enough of.
A/N: this fic was brought on by @/habken's art (without the slash). i absolutely love the artwork of cecaelia deku that's on their page <3
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You woke up early to meet Izuku.
There are very few friends you'll sacrifice sleeping in for, and he is one of them. 
For one, he's a little different from the rest. Nobody else you know has eight tentacles for "legs", or constantly spends his time in the ocean. And from what you've been able to decipher from him, no one else you know lives in an underwater kingdom, basically.
He's just your friendly neighborhood cacaelia, literally. Living on a remote island, the only neighbors you've got are the human ones and the sea life. 
So, after taking care of yourself for the day and packing a light breakfast and a blanket in your family's empty fishing home, as your parents were out on a trip, you headed for the sea. The walk was about eight minutes through the town center if you didn’t get distracted from greeting your neighbors, and another five to cross the rock barrier that hid you both from sight. 
The sun is half-awake, just as you are, in the pastel sky as you amble through the rocks. Stark against the light teal of the waves sits a dilapidated dock. Though it's battered by the waves every day, and some of its pillars have been overtaken by algae, somehow still remains intact. 
Passing it, you take a few more steps before deciding on a patch of sand mostly empty of rocks. Setting your lunch down, you fluff your blanket out before crouching to place it on the beach. It is there, with your legs extended, the froth just barely reaching your heels, is where you wait for your friend.
It’s surreal, imagining how you met such a creature that isn’t even recognized by science. You would know—the trip your parents went on was for exploration. Giant leviathans were a brief topic, and mermaids were even shorter. The only reason you even knew the name of Izuku’s species was because he had shared with you the best he could with the language barrier. 
You’re lucky to have been the object of his natural curiosity on the day he happened to explore the surface. The sick octopus you thought you’d found among these very same rocks that surround you was actually him toying with a crab. Naturally, you had both been startled when you found a human torso attached to tentacles and for him, a human. Before you could even gasp, the cacaelia had scrambled back into the waves, though a moment later his eyes and scruffy hair sat above the surface, observing you warily.
Perhaps it was your parents’ fondness for the ocean that kept you from, in any other situation, screaming your head off. Nonetheless, you offered the creature a shell you’d found earlier that day, and he’d accepted it. 
And so began the first page of your friendship. 
You’re thrown from your reminiscing when something cold and slippery wraps around your ankle, making you jolt. A familiar viridescent tentacle squeezes you, and your gaze automatically trails it to its owner. 
Izuku peeks at you from above a rock, though not very well considering he’s much bigger than it. 
“There you are,” you smile, and Izuku reveals himself fully, grinning widely. His tentacle wraps around your ankle tighter, the suckers gently digging into the skin like a kiss. You watch as the photophores along his limb flicker nonverbally—which even you can understand as excitement. The cacaelia chirps a greeting at you in a language that would have scientists going nuts. It is more so sounds than intelligible words, and he usually only does it when you speak to him, most likely to mimic you. 
You reach down your leg, hamstrings firing with complaint to caress the sea creature's limb. Beneath the natural slime and flabbiness of his epidermis, you can feel the incredible muscle that lies just beneath. 
As you reel in his uncanniness, unbeknownst to you, Izuku has been doing the same. Another tentacle wraps around the hand that's exploring him, his ear fins fluttering as he uses his unoccupied tentacles to crawl up the beach to you. A loincloth bunches around his waist, secured with an embellished buckle and with a fabric similar to what you'd find on the surface.
Your smile grows. "Guess we're equally as curious about each other, huh?"
He glances at you, his tentacle rotating your hand to and fro. Even though you had quite a few meetings before, it isn't enough for either of you to get over the shock of interacting with another species daily. 
"Y…yes." He tries, dropping the word at first only to start again. "Interesting."
His voice was, somehow, exactly what you expected when you heard it the first time. Soft, timid, but somehow fitting. You can't help but chuckle warmly. "It is. Do you have scientists, down in your society?"
Izuku looks at you questioningly, the photophores unconsciously flickering the language you have yet to understand. When he realizes you didn't get the memo, he voices it once more. 
"Sci…en…tis–tists?"
You smile gently, repeating the word for him. "Scientists." The cacaelia mimics you, correctly this time, and you continue. "They are people who…like to explore things. Like, they're interested in things beyond themselves and want to know more about it." Your parents immediately came to mind when he asked, and you can only hope that you referenced their careers well enough. 
You jolt suddenly when one of Izuku's hands, a deep green like his tentacles, slides into yours, viridescent eyes wide and excited, ear fins flapping wildly. "Me! I'm interested in you! Want to know more about you!"
Heat rises to your cheeks without consent. Coughing gently, your fingers curl around Izuku's claws and webbed skin attempting to temper the dam he's accidentally released. You stare into Izuku’s eyes, awfully reminiscent of a puppy. 
He doesn't understand what he said. It's best not to make a big deal of it.
"Oh really now, aren't ya?" While his expression dimmed due to your silence, it is returned by your teasing tone. He nods excitedly, like a toddler about to receive a sweet. 
“Y-yes!” 
With little thought, you ruffle Izuku’s hair, which has the same texture as people here on land. Not that you pat many heads, but you’ve done your own and used that as a reference. The curly strands, as vivid and strangely colored as his eyes, are surprisingly soft between your fingers. You figured out last week that the cacaelia enjoys the feeling, as he leans into your hand with a soft hum. 
The tentacle on your leg loosens as you continue, and you playfully squirm at the feeling of his suckers leaving your skin. His grip leaves behind circular marks, as they usually do. 
“Alright then, Mr. Scientist.” You tease, just as your stomach rumbles, reminding you of the breakfast you skipped. Immediately, Izuku’s tentacle reaches toward the source of the sound, poking the fabric around your shirt. 
“Hungry?” He asks. 
“Yeah, I skipped breakfast to see you. Still” —you twist behind you to grab the food you made—“I brought some to eat here. Have you eaten?”
He eyes your Tupperware container with curiosity. “Yes.” 
“Hmm,” you click the container open, revealing pre-cut strawberries and cream cheese. “Guess I’m not sharing these with you then—”
“N-no! Share! Please? Try it?” His gaze snaps up to you with a begging look, the tentacle previously exploring your shirt now slowly wrapping around your waist. You’re reminded of the size of the thing when it fully wraps around. Izuku is about your age, going by his appearance. If his tentacles are already this long, you can’t imagine how much more they’ll be when he’s older. 
Looking down at your container, then at him, you shrug a shoulder in jest. “Fine.” You hand him one of the bigger slices of fruit, then use a spoon to mix the cream cheese and strawberries. Izuku holds his berry with both hands. One of his claws digs into the slice, watching the juice run down his hand. 
He licks up the juice as you eat, and it’s impossible not to smile at how clumsily he does so. Eventually, he bites the bullet and eats the fruit whole. A few seconds pass as he chews, and then…
His face screws up with pungent distaste. It takes everything you have to keep your laugh in and not choke on your food. Somehow Izuku manages to get the berry down, even though he shakes his head roughly as if trying to rid himself of the taste. 
“How was it?” You can’t hide your amusement this time, the cecaelia glaring at you, his tentacle slightly tightening around your torso. 
“Terrible. Not meat.” 
Laughing, you swirl your breakfast about in its container. It catches Izuku’s gaze and he turns away sharply, crossing his arms. His photophores flicker wildly. 
“So, you don’t want more…?” Holding another strawberry out to him, Izuku skitters away from it like a cat from a cucumber. The pressure around your waist disappears as he crawls to the shore. You’ve underestimated this about him—how fast he can move despite being on land. Really, you shouldn’t be surprised, considering he has eight tentacles for the job. He looks back at you, expression blank, before he dives under the waves. 
It doesn’t register after one, two, ten seconds, that that might be the last time you see him today. You quickly glance at the time on your phone. It was still morning. Packing your finished breakfast, you discard your sandals and rush to the shore. 
“Izuku?” Your feet sink into the sand as you follow where your friend went. The sea is at your shins when you pause to look over the water. Since your eyes aren't particularly good at seeing through water, the waves remain the same placid teal. 
Worried you may have actually hurt him with your taunts, you sigh, "hey, I didn't mean t—"
Too late, you realize as a tentacle splashes out of the water, snapping around your ankle. At the same time, another grabs your wrist. Your throat dries up in fear, and the shout that tries to leave is pitiful.
You’re pulled into the water. You’re fully submerged before the tentacles slide off you, and you instinctively push your way to the surface. 
The water is just barely above your nose. You have to hop a bit in order to keep it above the water. Blinking away the salt water, you startle at Izuku’s face so close to yours. Bubbles swarm from your nostrils as you retreat a few inches. The cecaelia’s expression slides to a pout, and you raise an eyebrow at the audacity. You tread water for a few moments before a tentacle encircles you, holding you up.
“Izuku! Had to pull a fast one on me, didn’t you?” You sputter, throat irritated from the salt water you’d ingested. “Scared the crap out of me. Hate strawberries that much?" 
Izuku tilts his head at the new phrase, chirping curiously. You didn’t want to explain, mostly because the sun was getting farther from the horizon, which meant he’d have to go sooner than later. And even though you were completely soaked, and you know you’d get questions from the townspeople when you made the walk of shame home, it was worth it. 
“Ugh, c’mon,” you smile, kicking forward and flipping onto your back to swim and talk to him at the same time. This is a common ritual—though usually not done as aggressively—bidding him adieu. 
Izuku follows you underwater, his limb still around what you’re beginning to think is his favorite place—your waist. Turning your head just enough so you don’t inhale water, you observe him below you. His tentacles twist far beyond your toes. If you had to guess, from head to tip, he measured about 12 feet. 
Having a creature that much bigger than you in the ocean would, in any other situation, turn your heart hollow. But since it’s him—the same Izuku who minutes ago made a beautifully ugly face at the taste of strawberries—you’re definitely not. 
Like he can feel your stare on him, Izuku looks up, meeting your gaze. His ear fins flutter like a butterfly’s wings, and his bright green eyes shine at the attention. The cacaelia croons, so low and sentimental you can’t help but feel that this sound means something different.
Something bitter tumbles in your heart when you realize, soon, the weight around you will slide off, and that familiar presence will disappear into the depths below. Just to make sure, you voice a question you’ve asked him at the end of your prior visits. 
“Will you be here tomorrow?” 
The photophores on the limb holding you flickers in a familiar pattern, the one word you can understand. Yes. 
You turn your head back, taking in the morning sky. “Great. I’m glad.” 
Izuku answers you with a deep, rhythmic hum, his tentacle squeezing in reply.
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twogyuu · 11 months
Text
We Can Just Dance to This
Pairing: Lee Chan x fem!reader
Genre: Fluff(?), angst(?), dirty dancing!au, summer love, good girl gone bad(but Chan's not a bad guy?)
Warnings: I mean . . . it's a dirty dancing!au so mildly suggestive but no explicit smut
WC: ~1.7k
A/N: This has been sitting in the WIP pile for who knows how long and the thousands of bulletpoints I added to this document went nowhere 😀
Originally inspired by the movie, Dirty Dancing and Dance To This by Troye Sivan ft. Ariana Grande. Happy reading 💙
. . . .
He didn’t belong in this town. 
He didn’t belong in this family resort. 
This wasn’t the dance studio he dreamed of: a musty cabin built over thirty years ago tucked away on a hill in the woods. The interior was redesigned to mimic a poor excuse of a studio. Mirrors lined one wall, though over the years they were stained with oily fingerprints from the young children of the guests who came by for lessons. The large screen windows revealed too much of the intimacy and vulnerability that came with the art. Dirt tracked from climbing the dusty stone stairs filled the grit of the floor tiles and flies were starting to get stuck in the bright overhead lights above. It was a shame that the resort was most popular in the summer – the age old fan hardly cooled anyone off these days. 
Lee Chan did, however, belong on the dance floor. 
He deserved to be in the spotlight on some big stage in LA or New York City. 
Somewhere, along side a pop star or shining under the spotlight himself.
You decided this was certain as you watched him expertly move his body to the Normani’s ‘Motivation’ from the corner of the resort dance studio. It was almost as if the music emanated from his core and flowed through his limbs to his finger tips. You were in utter awe of how he paid attention to every detail of his move, from the way his feet were positioned in a perfect crisscross to the point of his fingers. 
“It lasts longer if you take a picture,” Chan chuckled breathlessly as he made his way towards you. He kneeled and settled in a spot in front of you. 
You were so lost in him, you didn’t even notice the change in pace of the song – an entirely new one playing at that. You ignored the way your cheeks heated up, handing him over a water bottle that he hastily gulped down. You tucked your knees into your chest, resting your chin atop them as you peered at him quietly. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face. You didn’t want to, but you did take note of the way his veins bulge along his arms.
“You’re good,” you mumbled. 
He stopped mid-drink and side eyed you, frowning. “You’ve been watching all this time and it’s just good?”
“I mean,” you shrugged, “It’s not like I know much about dance . . . you looked skilled?”
Silence, then a beat. 
Chan leaned forward on his hands, his head tilted slightly and a playful smile tugging at the right corner of his lip. 
“What are we gonna do with you, baby?” he teased in a low voice. You could feel his breath grazing across your cheek.
You froze. 
Baby.
The nickname felt different coming from him. 
You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t, simply shrinking back. 
He stayed like this a while longer; you, internally squirming under his gaze. You hoped your demeanor was stoic and didn’t show the way a simple lazy look from him could stir so much in you. 
After a moment, Chan slid back. He gave you one last look before getting up and making his way to the speaker set up. He swiped at his phone connected to by the AUX cord, ceasing Jason Derulo’s falsetto in ‘Want To Want Me’, replacing it with the electronic piano of ‘Versace on the Floor’ by Bruno Mars. 
You furrowed your brows in confusion as he sauntered over, one hand tucked in the pocket of his baggy sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips. His smile had spread into a grin as the strumming of the guitar and percussion began. 
Chan extended a hand in your direction. Dumbfounded, your gaze flickering from his hand to his face and back.  
“Dance with me,” he asked. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The longer you hesitated, his confidence began to falter like a middle school boy being rejected by his crush. Chan gulped as he felt his throat constrict – the last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward between you and him. After all, you had to see each other all summer and there weren’t many places to hide around here. Even if he hadn’t danced with you yet, he could’ve sworn, there was chemistry, at the very least a spark between you and him. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?
Finally, you gingerly placed your hand in his and pushed yourself off the floor. He released a small breath of relief, eyes examining your fingers settled in his. He chortled softly at your baby pink painted nails – chipped and outgrown. It was fitting for you for some reason. 
“I don’t actually know what to do,” you said anxiously. 
“Wait,” Chan held out a hand to you. 
Great – you already fucked up and you haven’t even started. 
“You should take off your sneakers,” he pointed at them. 
“Why?” 
“So you don’t step on my feet,” he peered down at his sock-covered toes. 
“Fair, I guess.”
“Relax,” he told you, noting how stiff you were. Chan led you to the center and positioned your hands: one on his shoulder, the other resting his own hand. “Just follow along, hm?”
“Easier said than done,” you grumbled. 
The hairs along your spine pricked up when you felt the warmth of his hand settle on the small of your back. 
“We’ll start with a simple square waltz,” Chan explained. “I step back, you step forward, then to the right – so on and so forth to make a square.”
You looked up, trying your best to memorize the steps. 
The first few times, you stumbled. He was right to make you take off your shoes. Even looking at your feet, you stepped on his toes a few times, apologizing profusely, while the dancer just laughed and reassured you.
“Relax,” Chan said again, “Feel the music and move with it. Let it guide you.”
You peered up from the ground and caught his gaze, his eyes amused and warm. He nodded at you encouragingly and stepped forward. Instinctively, you stepped back. 
“Good,” he chuckled. 
 After a few rectangles and triangles, you were finally starting to get the hang of it. Though the Bruno Mars song had faded into ‘Night Changes’ by One Direction, you were able to keep up with the faster beat. A feeling of accomplishment filled your chest at this, eliciting an excited smile on your face. 
“Cute,” Chan said softly. 
You looked at him in surprise.
“What?” he asked teasingly. 
“Nothing,” you muttered. You looked behind him, met with the reflection of you and him moving in sync in the mirror. The steps were simple, but you with him . . . looked right. 
Feeling something funny in your chest, you looked out through the screen windows, clearing your throat loudly. 
“Didn’t take you for a Directioner?” you commented. 
“It’s a nice song,” Chan offered. You shivered at the way his lips grazed against your ear. 
“Noted – Lee Chan, directioner.”
He rolled his eyes, chortling at the tease. 
“Wanna take this a step further?” Chan challenged.
“Is this payback for making fun of you?”
“You could say so,” he shrugged, pulling back to look at you. “I’ll spin you and then twirl you out.”
“Don’t let go?” you said immediately. The irrational fear of him letting you go and the momentum of the spin taking you crashing into something overtaking you. 
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Chan didn’t warn you, letting go of your waist and raising his hand for you to rotate under. The rest was a blur, the room turning white as the colors mixed together and you felt your forearms stretch. 
Before you knew it, you were enveloped back in his arms – though closer than before, your chests flushed against one another. You could feel the rise and fall of his every breath; perhaps even the beat of his heart, and it was fast. The music seemed to have faded and it was only the mix of his and your heavy breathing.
If his eyes were warm before, they were swarming with something else now – you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Curiosity overtaking you, you reached up and swept his bangs out of his eyes, fingers lingering in his locks to no avail. His dark orbs scanned over your face, flickering from your own eyes to your lips. He looked a little too long – enough for  you to know what was on his mind as much as your own. 
You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, his other gripping around your waist. The press of each finger seeping warmth into your skin, though this time, you were less anxious as you were lost in him. 
In fact, you almost welcomed it. 
Chan leaned in, hesitantly pressing his lips against your own plush ones as if to test the water first. When you kissed back, you could feel him relax, almost falling into you as you stumbled back to steady yourself and him. He smiled into the kiss, his hand coming up to adjust your neck for better access to your lips. 
The seconds melted into minutes, minutes suddenly into infinite. 
When you felt him pull away, you opened your eyes slowly, one after another. Chan breathing shallowly, a silly, tight smile stretched across his face as he tried to hold in his laughter. 
He wasn’t laughing at you, but rather out of joy. 
Lips swollen, you sucked in your bottom lip in between your teeth, a faint taste of his mint gum lingering. 
“You’re not completely hopeless,” he muttered, breaking the silence in an attempt to tease you. However, it didn’t feel as such. 
You scoffed and pressed a hand against his chest, silently asking him to let you go after ruining the moment. 
But he didn’t. 
In fact, he only pulled you closer. 
How about it, baby?” Chan asked. “Help me out for the summer?”
You looked back at him. 
Playfulness? 
Maybe that’s what it was in his eyes – or lust?
“I . . . don’t see why not.”
You were interested, to say the least, and for once, you wanted to take the leap of faith.
Take a chance on him.
Take a chance on yourself.
Perhaps, you could become something more than the sweet and obedient 'baby' everyone else knew and adored.
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bramble-scramble · 2 months
Note
No one knew exactly how long these mangled corpses were stuck there rotting.
They were discovered after many of Paletteville's villagers complained of a unbearable stench that leaked from underneath the bridge. The authorities arrived to investigate with almost everyone crowding around the scene. Some watched from afar, others dared to venture closer only to be stopped and turned back. A few discreetly took pictures on their phones. This morbid spectacle aroused such disturbing tension all throughout the area. It was bad enough already that Palette Prime was infamous for its bad luck, thanks to their poet for a warden, but now...
Words could not describe the sheer horror that was found once the authorities realized that the bodies were stitched together and hung up right underneath the wooden planks of the bridge. Such a sight made the squeamish sick, resulting in many cases of vomiting and fainting spells.
It was later revealed that four victims were identified, despite them being partially skinned, dismembered, and disemboweled. The victims were widely known to Paletteville to the point of adoration. One was a football player, two were beloved socialites, and the last was a judge. Not a single person could figure out why someone would go after such wonderful citizens. The investigation continued. Bloodstained golden cords pierced their flesh and fat and muscle, tying them into this grotesque, meaty banner that stretched from one end to another. Right below this display was a gathering of rocks, all colored in a deep red and positioned into a small circle that was just big enough for one to sit inside.
---
Woodrow woke up in his bathtub, his naked body motionlessly floating in filthy water. His eyes adjusted; his ears rang as his head throbbed. His senses slowly came to him as he lifted his arms up to pull himself up.
Then he froze.
...
It's just a hallucination. It has to be. There's no way any of this is real. He has done this before. They're only temporary. That's it.
Just temporary.
The poet closed his eyes and held in a deep breath. His chest felt like it was about to burst. Chills ran up his spine, intensified by the coolness of the bathwater, and he let out a exhale. Another deep breath in, and another long exhale...
Nothing changed.
Woodrow choked and gasped, finally crawling out of the bathtub and crashing down onto the cold hard tile floor. His breathing was now sporadic with a terror unimaginable, leaving him panicking like a newborn lost in the woods. Tears streamed down his face as he silently wailed in terrible realization. His body curled in a futile attempt to make itself warm.
There was silence.
...
And then the light flickered.
The fur on his back stood straight up. Woodrow shut his eyes.
He suddenly melted as a gentle, loving caress presses against his cheek.
"Please... no more tears. You did exceptionally well, my dearest poet. Soon all shall know what art truly is."
I know it's gonna be good when I open my notifications and see "No one knows how long these mangled corpses..." from you lol
Actually I read this last night and woke up still thinking about it. Your writing gives me chills and sticks in my brain as usual!
This is a less wholesome take on Phantom-possession, I take it? I like how Phandrow can be too extremely corny romantic art-dorks waxing poetic about each other and frolicking gaily through the woods forever, OR it could be a literally tortured artist pushed to his limits, and his supernatural boyfriend who is no stranger to lusting for revenge and could entice him to embrace his darker side and innate capacity for destruction. This ship is everything, mmhmm mhhhmmmmmmm
One thing is true regardless of AU, and the relative horror thereof: that when Phantom touches Woodrow he will forget all his suffering and figuratively turn into a puddle. Doesn't matter how many times it's happened or how long they have been together.
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dramamelon · 6 months
Text
It's here! Transformers Big Bang Fic Reveal
This is just the first four chapters, the rest will go up over the weekend to spread it a bit. (We're lookin' at 51k and change... 😂)
SUMMARY: Nickel has a secret: she carries Kaon's still-living spark with her, saved only moments before its last flickers faded. When the stars align and give her the means to revive him, she takes her chance and sets into motion yet another wild and crazy ride for the crew of the Lost Light.
Chapters: 1-4 available now! Rating: T Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen, Multi Relationships: Kaon & Nickel, Kaon & Blades Characters: Kaon, Nickel, Blades, First Aid, Blaster, Minimus Ambus, Megatron, Anode, Lug, Lost Light Crew, The Scavengers Additional Tags: Transformers Big Bang 2023, Minimal editing, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, The good ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, Fix-It for MTMTE #52, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Resurrection, Friendship/Love, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Relationships, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Memory Loss, Enemies to Friends, Emotional Baggage, Kindness, Robogore, Alcohol, Recreational Drug Use (very briefly)
The wonderful art was done by @flayyr! (I'll reblog when it's up!)
@tf-bigbang
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elentarial · 2 months
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my friend @goschatewabn, here is your gift for @ainursecretsanta
I loved your prompt “trying to understand the Incarnates and differing moral/ethical codes”
Please enjoy some Eönwë/Arafinwe/Gil-Galad below the cut
They're going to touch; Eönwë can see it. Eönwë knows it.
They're going to touch, and it's going to be more than the touch of friends, and it's going to be more than the touch of brothers-in-arms. It's going to be more than any touch Eönwë has ever given to another, and it's going to tear Eönwë's heart out, and it's going to rip his honor to shreds, but he cannot look away.
He will not look away.
They are both bare from the waist up, their breeches slung low, color riding high in their damp skin. Gil-Galad knows his way around a body for death and love both, and the way he touches Arafinwë frames him like art in Eönwë's eyes. It's a caress, along tight sinew, and hard, flat muscle, and it makes Arafinwë crash like the tide - Eönwë can see the blue ocean in his eyes ebb in and out with every blink, every flicker of his tawny lashes against his pale cheeks.
Arafinwë's hands are sure and rough and astringent like herbs. Eönwë knows the smell and firmness of his skin from when Arafinwë plays the role of healer among his captains. The hands of a king are said to be the hands of a healer, but Eönwë often forgoes any offers from Arafinwë. Those hands conjure up too many filthy apparitions, and Eönwë must not be distracted from his task. The Host of the Valar cannot afford to fail. 
Now, those hands hold Gil-Galad by his elbows the same way Arafinwë holds his bridled horse by the reins to control it. Gil-Galad sprawls his fingers over Arafinwë's hip bones as Arafinwë leans closer and reels him in.
They are kissing now, and Eönwë digs his fingers into the arms of his chair; he will bleed  from the beds of his nails before he blinks before he allows himself to acknowledge before he lets his lips part on the panting gasp of air that writhes in his lungs.
Gil-Galad's mouth parts easily for Arafinwë, but he doesn't stay passive. He pulls Arafinwë closer and slides his hands up Arafinwë's sleek back until he can cradle Arafinwë's head in his hands. It makes Arafinwë tighten up and take what he's given, pulling a moan from his throat that sounds almost unwilling.
"Come," Gil-Galad murmurs against Arafinwë's damp skin, "Let him hear you. Let him see how much you want this," and Arafinwë's eyes shudder closed. "Let him know ," Gil-Galad says, and Arafinwë makes a sound so wanting, so dark, that Eönwë wishes everything and everyone far away so that he could put his own hand on his cock without fear of repercussion, of shame.
His eyes slip closed, and he cannot help but let out a breathy moan, swept away.
"Herald," Gil-Galad says, and Eönwë's eyes snap open again only to light on Gil-Galad on his knees, drawing Arafinwë's trousers down slowly, decadently, like the slide of dark blue cloth over Arafinwë's knees is somehow beautiful. The sight of Gil-Galad looking up at Arafinwë and Arafinwë looking down, and their lust akin to desperate worship passing between them, will reduce Eönwë to nothing.
His fingers ache from their grip on the chair, from not being in contact, from not touching . He feels every place that the laces of his clothes constrict his skin, reminding him that he's trapped -in his armor, in his role as herald of the Valar, in his own propriety. Gil-Galad's trousers have fallen low enough to reveal the curve of his arse, and Arafinwë is naked save for the shackles of his clothing, loose around his ankles. As Eönwë watches, Gil-Galad opens again for Arafinwë, only this time for his cock - his mouth is hungry, arrogant, and eloquent as it takes Arafinwë in.
Arafinwë's spine bows and noises like this are destroying him, and he welcomes it, just rounded beautiful syllables of nonsense. Eönwë thinks he can ride this out and look away (his wings flutter nervously) until Arafinwë's hand fists in Gil-Galad's dark hair and draws his head back so that they look at each other again. The way their eyes meet, and the thin dribble of saliva that connects them from Gil-Galad's mouth to where Arafinwë is hard - the ties that bind them are so strong.
"Eönwë," Arafinwë breathes as Gil-Galad draws him down to the floor so they can kneel together. "Eönwë, look at me." His voice is barely more than a breathless whisper.
Eönwë does as he's told and stares hard at the scene before him as Arafinwë pushes Gil-Galad back onto the skin rug. "This isn't something you have to hide from," Arafinwë rasps, and as he unfastens Gil-Galad's trousers, Gil-Galad reaches into his pocket and produces a bottle. His eyes are unfocused with every curl of Arafinwë's fingers on his body, but he doesn't need focus - Arafinwë has enough of that, sloppy and warm though it is.
Gil-Galad nude is pink-brown and lush-looking, darker than Arafinwë, flushing red on contact. Arafinwë eases one of his legs up into a tight bend, foot flat on the floor, and reaches between them with fingertips slicked with whatever Gil-Galad's bottle contained. 
"This isn't something you must hide from," Arafinwë repeats. "This is something you can have. Watch me, Eönwë," he bites his lip and presses his fingers home. Gil-Galad's body roils under his attention; his face turns to Eönwë, mouth a hungry wet space, his eyes deep, dark, and disbelieving.
"Please," Gil-Galad says, loud and crackling, and Eönwë doesn't know who he's pleading with. Arafinwë does - he kneels in the spread of Gil-Galad's thighs, pulls them together, and aligns himself carefully but quickly. " Please ."
"He's ready for me," Arafinwë says and starts to lean forwards and in. "He's done this before; he likes it -" Arafinwë's face flushes beautifully - Gil-Galad's is wrecked.
Eönwë will not; he  will not try to guess how that feels. He will not put himself in that sordid dream; he will not want this. There are claw marks on the wooden arms of his chair where he has scored deep in his determination. He will wash his clothes himself rather than let Arafinwë or the others see his weakness in sweat marks and the stains on the inside of his small clothes where his cock rubs, already damp and only getting wetter in dripping pulses.
"- but when you do this to me, I'll be tighter, you'll have to go slower, Eönwë, you'll have to be soft with me. I - I haven't, before -"
"Please," Gil-Galad says again, interrupts, and it's Eönwë he's begging now, "Eönwë, it has to be both of us." Arafinwë's beyond talking now, his body making slapping noises, groans, twisted breaths, but no words. Gil-Galad levers himself up, arching like a cat and trying to drag himself closer. "Eönwë, he needs  you -"
Eönwë is the weakest of the maiar at that moment, but he could never ignore a plea. His shirt he tears, his trousers and small clothes he drops as he stands, and the rug bunches under his knees as he grabs the bottle that had fallen to the side. Arafinwë is rutting now, sunk between Gil-Galad's legs and hardly moving except for the shuddering rolling of his hips.
The bottle is full of oil. Eönwë almost fumbles it, but Gil-Galad's hand comes up to catch it. "Steady," the younger high king says in a voice that is anything but. "You will know what to do." He pushes himself up, and Arafinwë slips out, hissing as he does so. Arafinwë drops to all fours pliantly, his head hung low between his shoulders, and Gil-Galad gentles him with a hand on his jaw and one in his hair, soft kisses to his eyelids and the corners of his mouth.
Eönwë wants to watch the intimacy between the elves longer, but more than that, he burns to give Arafinwë what he desires, and Arafinwë, with his back bowed and his legs spread, is telling him what that is. So Eönwë wets his fingers and begins.
At some point, one finger sliding becomes two pushing, three begging. Arafinwë's voice has returned, and his words have been lost again in the mire. Eönwë looks up to see Gil-Galad's hands tangled in Arafinwë's golden hair, drawing Arafinwë's mouth up and down his cock slowly.
Gil-Galad's eyes are butter-soft, fire-warmed when he says, "Now, Eönwë." Eönwë kneels up and finds his way home.
Arafinwë's body is a vice, is a vise - it corrupts him, holds him firm, and sinks into the sin of it, the surety and the surrender, gives himself to it. His own actions become a hazy mirage, something he cannot track because he has this glorious heat, and it has become all he can feel.
He and Gil-Galad have Arafinwë between them, the shortest distance there has ever been between them, connecting them like a line. Arafinwë and Eönwë fit like a weld fixing a break between halves rather than connecting two wholes. 
One by one: Gil-Galad, then Arafinwë, then Eönwë, they spend themselves, and Gil-Galad's release drips from Arafinwë's mouth like honey from the comb. Arafinwë spits himself on Eönwë and comes to completion with a sobbing cry and a twisting, desperate motion like he has to push himself yet further. Gil-Galad holds him up with stiff fingers and soft kisses until Eönwë loses himself in Arafinwë's body.
And he is lost. Perhaps he will never be able to return home unchanged after all that has trespassed, but he has the two high kings to guide him. Eönwë is the weakest of maiar. But Eönwë does not have to be alone any longer.
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darkstar225 · 5 months
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Twice's 10th member learns from the unnies how to use makeup
A/N: Heyyy, I'm trying to make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that the anon who gave me this idea on Tumblr likes it!
The request: Heeyy i want to request when Y/n joined Twice, she was still very young and didn't understand many things, especially makeup. so the members taught Y/n how to use makeup.
PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3
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The fluorescent lights in the dressing room flickered overhead as the door swung open, revealing the youthful silhouette of Y/N, the newest addition to TWICE. At just 16, she exuded an air of innocence that contrasted sharply with the glamorous world of K-pop. The members, in various stages of makeup application, turned to welcome her.
Nayeon - Baby, you made it! 
Nayeon, the oldest of the group, chirped with a warm smile. Jihyo and Jeongyeon flanked her, the trio often referred to as 3MIX, the motherly figures of the group.
YN - Hi, unnies! 
Greeted the younger girl with a nervous smile playing on her lips. She shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the seasoned idols, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of fame.
Jihyo stepped forward, her eyes filled with a gentle understanding. 
Jihyo - Don't worry, love. We were all nervous when we started. Come, have a seat. We'll help you with your makeup.
The other members looked up from their mirrors, their eyes curious and welcoming. Momo, Sana, Mina, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu, each with their unique personalities, were quick to embrace Y/N as their newest member. It was a sisterhood, and they were determined to make her feel at home.
Nayeon gestured to the vacant chair in front of the mirror. 
Nayeon - Alright, first things first. Do you have any makeup on right now?
The maknae sheepishly shook her head, her cheeks tinted pink. 
Y/N - I didn't want to mess it up before coming here.
Nayeon - Smart move. But today, you'll learn the magic of makeup, the TWICE way! *chuckling*
The members gathered around Y/N, their makeup bags sprawled across the table like a colourful palette. Jihyo, being the leader and the most experienced, took charge.
Jihyo - Let's start with the basics. *pulls out a foundation and shows it to Y/N* 
Jihyo - This is like the canvas for your art. It evens out your skin tone.
As 3MIX began their tutorial, the others chimed in with tips and tricks. Momo, known for her striking eye makeup, demonstrated the perfect technique for eyeshadow application. Sana, the queen of aegyo, gave lessons on blushing techniques that enhanced one's charm. Mina, with her elegant style, shared the secret of a subtle yet captivating lip colour.
The youngest watched with wide eyes, absorbing every piece of information like a sponge. She had never been particularly interested in makeup before, but under the guidance of her new sisters, it became an art form she wanted to master.
Throughout the session, the atmosphere shifted from a lesson to a bonding experience. Tzuyu, the youngest before Y/N's arrival, took a special interest in teaching her the nuances of makeup with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Tzuyu - See, it's all about the angle! 
Tzuyu explained, holding the eyeliner with the precision of a surgeon. (not my case lol)
Tzuyu - A slight flick at the end, and voila! You've got killer eyes.
Y/N tried to mimic the motion, but her hand trembled slightly. Dahyun, as the group's energizer, playfully nudged her.
Dahyun - Don't worry, little sis. It takes practice, and we're here to help you every step of the way.
As the makeup session progressed, laughter and teasing filled the room. Y/N felt a warmth spreading through her, a sense of belonging she hadn't anticipated. The members weren't just teaching her makeup, they were weaving her into TWICE's sisterhood.
Jeongyeon took a step back to observe Y/N's progress. 
Jeongyeon - You're doing great, sweetie. Soon, you'll be a pro like the rest of us.
Y/N beamed with a newfound confidence radiating from her. The reflective surface of the mirror now showed not just a girl learning makeup but a young woman blossoming into the vibrant world of K-pop.
As the finishing touches were applied, Jihyo looked at the clock. 
Jihyo - Alright girls, time to get dressed and hit the stage. *kisses Y/N's forehead*
The room buzzed with energy as the members gathered their belongings and headed towards the wardrobe area. Y/N, now adorned with the signature TWICE makeup, felt a surge of excitement coursing through her veins.
The first performance as an official member of TWICE awaited her.
The backstage area was a whirlwind of activity as stylists adjusted costumes, managers checked schedules, and the members exchanged last-minute words of encouragement. The youngest stood amidst the chaos, taking it all in with wide eyes.
Nayeon approached her, a glint of pride in her eyes. 
Nayeon - You ready for this, lovebug?
Y/N nodded, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling within her. 
Y/N - I think so, unnie. 
Nayeon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 
Nayeon - You've got us, remember? We're a family. Now let's go out there and shine.
The familiar melody of their latest hit filled the air as the members gathered on stage. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of fans eagerly anticipating TWICE's performance. Y/N, sandwiched between Tzuyu and Dahyun, took a deep breath.
As the music started, the synchronized dance moves kicked in, and the members sang in perfect harmony. Y/N, initially nervous, found her rhythm and merged seamlessly into the performance. The stage lights bathed them in a kaleidoscope of colours, and the audience's cheers fueled their energy.
Midway through the performance, Y/N caught the eye of Jihyo, who winked and gave her a thumbs-up. The encouragement rippled through the group, and TWICE's sunshine felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.
The performance reached its climax, and the members struck their final pose. The crowd erupted in applause, and Y/N couldn't help but smile, a sense of accomplishment washing over her.
As they exited the stage, the members exchanged high-fives and hugs. Jihyo pulled her newest child into a tight embrace.
Jihyo - You did amazing, our little star. Welcome to TWICE.
The other members joined in, creating a group hug that encapsulated the bond they had forged in the makeup room just hours ago.
From that day forward, Y/N wasn't just the newest member of TWICE. She was a cherished part of a sisterhood that went beyond the glitz and glamour of the stage. The lessons in makeup had been a gateway into a world where mentorship, laughter, and support were the true foundations of their unity.
And as they prepared for the next adventure, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the colourful journey that lay ahead, grateful for the sisters who had embraced her and the magic of makeup that had brought them all together.
And this made her have one thought:
I'll always love my dear unnies.
A/N: I'm sorry for any errors. English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3
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This fluffy One-shot comes again from This beautiful art from @timethehobo. I hope you and every reader likes it
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Mistletoe
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warning : fluff , kissing
Curator x fem reader
masterlist
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The door in the darkness appeared before her and she reached for it unerringly. As soon as she opened it, she smelled the old scent of past centuries. She already knew the pictures hanging on the wall. She had been in the rooms too often. The carpet as old as ever showed her the way to the main room. The room where the man who made her heart beat faster was waiting.
The man who was so much more than just a storyteller. He had so many names and would visit everyone at a certain point. Some would call him Death. But she called him the Curator. Carefully knocking on the door and holding the small plant in her hand tighter. ,,Come in" came the muffled voice behind the wood before she pushed the handle down slightly and stepped into the room. The large office revealed itself to her, the fireplace was lit, the fire crackled slightly, the windows covered by curtains gave the whole a pleasant atmosphere and the candles that flickered sporadically offered a little comfort.
For him, however, they were nothing more than everything transient almost unimportant objects like dust that formed and could simply be wiped away. But even if this applied to everything, it did not apply to the human woman. He heard her increased heartbeat and briefly worry flared in his eyes as he looked up from his book and gave her a slight smile. Before he looked at her more closely. Her chest rose and fell slightly faster. Nervousness. Her eyes went from his eyes to his lips to his hands before they looked almost hurriedly to the fireplace. Admiration. And she held something in her hands but what ?
It was nothing alive it filled neither warmth nor a beat but what was it then? She took a few more steps into the room before she went to the fireplace to warm herself. ,,You know, it's Christmas again," she said and he heard the slight smirk. Putting his notes aside, he rose and walked over to her. ,,Again? Mhhh time goes by so fast " he said and in his eyes the fire of the fireplace was reflected. ,,Do you still have it?" she asked and turned to him.
A brief smile came to his lips as he reached into his pocket. The silver pen flashed in the light before he placed it on the mantel. ,,Of course, my dear, I've only used it since then," he admitted, pleased to see the smile grow on her lips. His gaze went to the fireplace, but just as he was about to go back to his desk to get some wine, he felt something warm. Astonished, he looked at his hand. The warm hand of his beloved had laid on his cold one. A strange feeling which he had not felt for hundreds of years. Warm human contact.
Otherwise everything was always so cold, but with her he seemed to feel even the warmth of the fireplace. ,,Do you know what we humans have mistletoe for?" she asked softly as if she was afraid of being heard. Of course he knew, but when he felt her heart beating faster and how nervous she was, he shook his head slightly. ,,No, I'm afraid not, my dear," he replied, gently stroking her hand.
Taking the mistletoe from behind her back and placing it over the two of them on the fireplace, she said nervously, ,,I'll-I'll show it to you". Patiently closing his eyes, he leaned forward slightly before feeling her warm lips on his cheek. A kiss.
A gesture of love as he knew a small bonding from human to human. A symbol of affection and love. And something like warmth flooded his body. ,,A truly lovely tradition?" he purred, his hands stroking hers. ,,There is more," she answered, and redness spread over her cheeks and ears. ,,I would love to meet them all" before he leaned forward slightly and gave her a kiss on the lips with his cold lips. Death kissed the only thing he would ever love. His lovely, beautiful gentle heart.
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