#and i know he is constructed cold but idk i want to make him an outliner too. like he is a special little boy!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pin-k-ink · 1 month

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Chrollo! There isn’t enough dark content about him. I want to see how Chrollo is, compared to Yandere Chrollo. I love both, but we don’t get enough dark content of Chrollo.

Chrollo is seen as manipulative, and cold. Considering he’s a mass murder, and his empathy is nonexistent to people outside of the phantom troupe. Though, he’s able to act like a gentleman, and a curious man who seems sweet. He definitely isn’t stable, but catching his attention would be terrifying. He collects what he’s interested in. Being in a relationship with him would be interesting, but complicated.

entropy // chrollo lucilfer

tw ⇢ emotional abuse/manipulation, psychological trauma, toxic relationship, mention of self-harm, suicide attempt, dub-con, non-consensual/coercion, stockholm syndrome(?), mention of violence and criminal activities, power play, some unspecified mental health issues, rough sex, cunnilingus, begging, idk kinda rushed ending, narrator’s pov

wc ⇢ 7.1k

a/n: i really liked this idea, anon, so i present you with 7k words of chrollo brainrot. i really tried not to make chrollo a cliche, run-of-the-mill yandere but im not sure i did a good job. its also my first time using y/n and i hated it

The dim lights of the crowded bar cast an amber glow across the room, the air thick with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, I nursed my whiskey, the smooth glass cool against my palm, the rich amber liquid swirling hypnotically as I lifted it to my lips. The first sip burned pleasantly down my throat, warming me from within as my eyes scanned the crowd out of habit, taking in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

That's when I saw him.

He moved with a fluid grace that stood out amidst the tipsy stumbles and raucous laughter of the other patrons. Dark hair fell across his face in an artful sweep as he leaned in close to whisper something to the bartender, who nodded knowingly and slid a drink across the polished wood, the crystal tumbler gleaming under the soft light. As if sensing the weight of my gaze, he turned slowly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat, my fingers tightening reflexively around my glass.

A polite smile curved his lips as he approached with measured steps, sliding onto the stool next to mine with a nod of acknowledgment. "Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and cultured, with a faint lilt of an accent I couldn't quite place. "I hope you'll forgive my forwardness, but I couldn't help noticing you from across the room."

I felt a flush creep up my neck at his directness, a heat blooming under my skin that had little to do with the whiskey. But I maintained my composure, lifting one eyebrow in a practiced arch. "Is that so?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink, letting the smoky flavor linger on my tongue. My heart fluttered in my chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness at the attention from this intriguing stranger.

"Indeed. It's rare to find someone so comfortable in their own solitude. It speaks to a certain strength of character." His eyes held mine, dark and fathomless, seeming to search for something beneath the surface, beneath the mask of cool indifference I wore like armor.

I smiled slightly, intrigued by his observation, by the way he seemed to see beyond the carefully constructed facade. "And what would you know about my character?"

"Very little, I admit. But I'd like to learn more, if you're willing." He extended a hand, long fingers elegant and strong. "Chrollo Lucilfer, at your service."

"Y/N," I replied, placing my hand in his. His grip was firm, his skin cool and smooth against my own. A shiver raced down my spine at the contact, a spark of something electric and unfamiliar. I found myself drawn to his enigmatic aura, the hint of danger that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

As the evening wore on, Chrollo and I fell into easy conversation, trading stories and opinions over drinks, our knees brushing under the bar in a way that felt both accidental and deliberate. He was articulate and well-read, with a keen insight that made me feel like he could see straight into my soul, past the walls I'd so carefully constructed. There was a magnetism to him, a pull that I couldn't resist, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I felt a connection growing between us, a sense of understanding and shared secrets that left me both thrilled and unnerved.

We began seeing each other regularly after that night, meeting for dinner at quiet candlelit restaurants or for coffee in cozy bookshops, the rich scent of roasted beans and old pages enveloping us as we talked for hours. Chrollo was always the perfect gentleman, holding doors and pulling out chairs, his manners impeccable, his attentiveness unwavering. But there were moments, fleeting glimpses, where something else seemed to flicker beneath the surface, a darkness that both thrilled and unsettled me. I found myself drawn to that darkness, to the mystery that surrounded him, even as a part of me whispered warnings in the back of my mind.

One evening, we were walking through the city, the pavement damp with recent rain, the neon signs reflecting in puddles at our feet. A man stumbled out of an alleyway, clearly drunk and disoriented, his clothes rumpled and stained. He lurched towards us, mumbling incoherently, his breath sour with the stench of alcohol. I tensed, expecting Chrollo to step in and help, to offer the man a steadying hand or a kind word. Instead, he sidestepped the man neatly, his movements fluid and precise, not even sparing him a glance. There was a coldness to the action, a calculated indifference that left me feeling chilled despite the warm summer air. A flicker of unease stirred in my gut, a sense that there was more to Chrollo than met the eye, but I pushed it aside, not wanting to shatter the illusion of the perfect romance.

Another time, we were at a restaurant, a trendy spot with exposed brick walls and industrial light fixtures. The hum of conversation and the clink of silverware against plates filled the air, a pleasant buzz of activity. A commotion broke out at a nearby table, a woman's voice rising in pitch as she gestured wildly at her companion, her face flushed with anger. Chrollo watched the scene unfold with a detached sort of interest, like a scientist observing a particularly fascinating specimen. When I expressed concern, my brow furrowed with worry, he simply shrugged, the movement languid and unconcerned.

"Some people thrive on drama," he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. "It's best not to get involved."

I tried to brush off the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, telling myself that no one was perfect, that everyone had their flaws and quirks. Chrollo was attentive and affectionate, showering me with gifts and attention, his touch always gentle, always reverent. It was easy to get lost in the romance of it all, in the heady rush of new love. But even as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace, to the tender caress of his lips on my skin, a part of me remained wary, a tiny voice whispering doubts in the back of my mind.

But the doubts continued to gather at the edges of my mind, like storm clouds on the horizon, dark and ominous. There were inconsistencies in the stories he told, small details that didn't quite add up, pieces that didn't fit into the puzzle of his past. He was evasive about his work, about his family and his childhood, always changing the subject with a charming smile and a clever turn of phrase when I pressed for more. I tried to ignore the growing sense of unease, the feeling that I was only seeing a carefully crafted facade, a mask that hid the true nature of the man I was falling for.

It all came to a head one night when we were out for a walk, the city streets quiet and still around us. A police car raced by, sirens blaring, red and blue lights flashing against the buildings. Chrollo tensed, his body going rigid beside me, his eyes tracking the vehicle with a sharpness that made me pause, my heart skipping a beat in my chest. There was something in his reaction, a hint of fear or guilt that I had never seen before, and it sent a chill down my spine.

"What is it?" I asked, searching his face for clues, for some hint of the thoughts swirling behind those dark eyes.

He relaxed just as quickly, his expression smoothing into a mask of calm, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Nothing, just lost in thought for a moment."

But I saw it then, in that brief unguarded instant. The hairline fracture in his facade, the glimpse of something raw and real beneath the polished surface. The realization hit me like a freight train, stealing the breath from my lungs - I didn't really know the man I was falling for at all. He was a mystery, a puzzle with missing pieces, and I had no idea what secrets he was hiding behind that charming smile and those fathomless eyes. Fear and doubt coiled in my gut, a sickening sense of dread that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that everything was fine.

The doubt became an itch I couldn't scratch, a constant presence at the back of my mind. I found myself watching Chrollo more closely, looking for clues, for any sign that might confirm my growing suspicions. He was as attentive and affectionate as ever, his touch gentle, his words sweet. But there was a guardedness to him now, a sense that he was always holding something back, always keeping a part of himself locked away. It was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, always slipping through my fingers just when I thought I had a grasp on the truth.

One evening, we were at his apartment, curled up on the plush leather couch with a movie playing on the large flatscreen TV. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light from the screen casting shadows on the walls. Chrollo's phone buzzed with an incoming message, the screen lighting up on the coffee table. He glanced at it, his expression hardening for a split second, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly before he smoothed it away, reaching for the device with a casual hand. My heart raced in my chest, a sense of foreboding washing over me as I watched him, a part of me desperately wanting to believe that it was nothing, that I was overreacting.

"Everything okay?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Just work," he replied, his thumb swiping across the screen, his eyes scanning the message quickly before he slipped the phone into his pocket. "Nothing to worry about."

But there was a tightness to his smile, a strain around his eyes that belied his easy words. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me, some secret he was keeping locked away. The doubts gnawed at me, a constant ache in my chest that I couldn't ignore, no matter how much I wanted to lose myself in the fantasy of our perfect love.

As the weeks passed, the distance between us grew, an invisible chasm widening with each passing day. Chrollo would disappear for hours at a time, offering vague explanations about meetings or errands, his tone carefully neutral. He was increasingly evasive about his activities, changing the subject with a practiced ease or deflecting my questions with a charming smile and a clever quip. I felt like I was losing him, like the man I had fallen for was slipping away, replaced by a stranger wearing a familiar face.

I knew I should confront him, demand answers, but a part of me was afraid of what I might uncover. The man I had fallen for, the gentleman with the quick wit and the electrifying touch, felt like a stranger wearing a familiar face, a mask that was starting to crack at the edges. I was torn between the desire to cling to the illusion of our perfect romance and the need to know the truth, to see the man behind the mask, no matter how painful it might be.

The final straw came late one night when I was leaving Chrollo's apartment, my mind whirling with unanswered questions, my heart heavy in my chest. As I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps, I nearly collided with a man coming from the opposite direction. He was tall and lean, with cold eyes that seemed to look right through me, his face all sharp angles and harsh lines. A shiver of unease ran down my spine, a sense of danger emanating from him like a palpable force.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, trying to sidestep him, my skin prickling with unease.

But he blocked my path, his large frame filling the narrow hallway, his gaze flicking past me to Chrollo's door, a flash of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. "He's expecting me," the man said, his voice flat and emotionless, sending a chill down my spine.

I glanced over my shoulder, but Chrollo had already closed the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place loud in the sudden silence. A wave of dread washed over me as I hurried past the man, my heart pounding in my ears, my hands shaking as I jabbed at the elevator button. Questions swirled in my mind, a growing sense of fear and unease that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it away.

I didn't sleep that night, my mind racing with possibilities, with questions I was afraid to voice aloud. Who was the man in the hallway? What business did he have with Chrollo at such a late hour? The not knowing was almost worse than the truth, my imagination conjuring up all manner of dark scenarios, each more terrible than the last. I tossed and turned, my sheets tangled around me, my heart aching with the growing realization that the man I loved was not who I thought he was.

The paranoia grew like a cancer, spreading through every aspect of my life, tainting every interaction with Chrollo. I found myself watching him constantly, analyzing every word, every gesture, looking for some hint of the truth behind the mask. Every phone call he took, every message he received, every unexplained absence became a clue in a puzzle I was desperate to solve, a mystery I couldn't let go. I was consumed by the need to know, to uncover the secrets he was hiding, even as a part of me feared what I might find.

I started making excuses to drop by his apartment unannounced, hoping to catch him off guard, to glimpse the man behind the facade. But Chrollo was always one step ahead, his mask of charm and civility firmly in place, his explanations smooth and plausible. It was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, always slipping through my fingers just when I thought I had a grasp on the truth. I felt like I was losing my mind, like I was trapped in a maze of lies and half-truths, with no way out.

The strain began to take its toll, the constant state of heightened awareness, of second-guessing every moment. I was distracted at work, jumping at every unexpected noise, seeing shadows in every corner. My friends noticed the change, commenting on my withdrawn behavior, the dark circles under my eyes, the way I seemed to be constantly on edge. I brushed off their concerns with a forced smile and a wave of my hand, not wanting to voice the suspicions that consumed my every waking moment.

I started to pull away, to put distance between us, needing time to clear my head, to make sense of the tangled web of lies and half-truths. I made excuses to avoid seeing him, claiming work obligations or family commitments, my voice shaking only slightly as I lied through my teeth. I needed space, needed to step back and look at the situation objectively, without the haze of love and desire clouding my judgment. But even as I tried to distance myself, I found myself drawn back to him, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of his magnetism.

But Chrollo wouldn't let me go so easily, his presence a constant pull, a magnetic force I couldn't seem to resist. He showed up at my work, at my favorite coffee shop, always with a bouquet of flowers and a contrite smile, his eyes soft and pleading. He promised to be more open, to answer any questions I might have, to lay his secrets bare before me. And for a moment, I wanted to believe him, to fall into the warmth of his embrace and let the world fade away.

I started to dig deeper, to research Chrollo's past, looking for any clue that might explain the inconsistencies, the blank spaces in his history. Late one night, huddled over my laptop with a mug of coffee growing cold beside me, I found it. A news article, buried deep in the archives of a local paper, a few scant paragraphs that made my blood run cold. A string of high-profile thefts, linked to a shadowy group known as the Phantom Troupe, their methods as elusive as their identities. And there, in grainy black and white, a photograph of a man with dark hair and piercing eyes, a face I would know anywhere.

My heart stopped in my chest as I stared at the screen, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place with a sickening clarity. The man I loved, the gentleman with the silver tongue and the devastating smile, was a thief. And not just any thief, but a member of the most notorious criminal organization in the city, a ghost in the shadows, a phantom in the night. I sat back in my chair, my hands shaking as I tried to process the truth, to reconcile the Chrollo I knew with the man in the article.

The reality of my situation crashed over me like a wave, cold and unrelenting. I was in love with a lie, a beautiful fiction wrapped in a tailored suit and a charming smile. The future I had imagined for us, the life I had started to build in my mind, was nothing more than a house of cards, ready to come tumbling down at any moment. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in around me, trapping me in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

And I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

The truth hung heavy in the air between us, a suffocating presence that filled the room and pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My heart raced as I confronted Chrollo with the article, my voice trembling with a potent mix of anger, fear, and betrayal. He sat across from me, his posture relaxed, his eyes downcast, his hands resting calmly in his lap. The silence stretched on, broken only by the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall, each second an eternity of agonizing anticipation.

When he finally spoke, his voice was even and measured, devoid of any discernible emotion. "I never intended for you to discover the truth this way," he said, his gaze meeting mine, his dark eyes revealing nothing. "I considered telling you, explaining everything, but I couldn't find the right approach."

Disbelief and heartache surged through me, constricting my throat and stinging my eyes with unshed tears. "Explain what, Chrollo? That our entire relationship has been built on a foundation of lies? That the man I fell in love with is nothing more than a carefully crafted illusion?"

His expression remained impassive, unfazed by my accusation. "The connection between us is genuine, Y/N. My feelings for you, the moments we've shared, none of that was a deception."

A bitter, mirthless laugh escaped my lips, echoing harshly in the oppressive stillness of the room. "But everything else? The thefts, the Phantom Troupe? How can you claim that's not an integral part of who you are?"

Chrollo sighed, a subtle indication of impatience rather than genuine weariness. "It's not that simple. The Troupe is like family to me. We have each other's backs, keep each other safe. What we do isn't solely about financial gain or the adrenaline rush. It's about survival, about carving out a place in a world that's never given us a fair chance."

As I sat there, my mind reeling, a chill crept down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. Chrollo's dark eyes bored into mine, a glimmer of something cold and dangerous lurking beneath the surface of his composed exterior. In that moment, the true depth of his detachment became starkly apparent, sending a fresh wave of fear washing over me.

"You need to understand, Y/N," he continued, his voice low and even. "The Phantom Troupe is more than just a gang. It's a way of life. A family bound by blood and loyalty. I've committed heinous acts in the name of that loyalty. Acts that would make your blood run cold."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a trapped bird. "And what about me, Chrollo? Was I just another pawn in your twisted game? Another plaything to be discarded when you grew bored?"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "No, Y/N. Never. What I feel for you is the closest thing to genuine emotion I've ever experienced. But I won't deceive you. I am what I am. That's not going to change, not even for you."

With shaking legs, I stood up, my entire body trembling with a mixture of fear, anger, and despair. "I can't do this, Chrollo. I can't be a part of your world. The things you've done...the person you truly are...I can't turn a blind eye to that."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I expected as much. I knew this moment would arrive sooner or later. I merely hoped..." He trailed off, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "It's irrelevant now."

I took a step back, my mind struggling to process the revelation of Chrollo's true identity. The man I had fallen for, the charming and enigmatic gentleman, was nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask concealing the cold, ruthless criminal beneath.

"I can't be a part of this, Chrollo," I repeated, my voice quivering with a mixture of fear and resignation. "I can't be with someone who lives a life of crime, who has no regard for the people he hurts."

Chrollo's expression remained inscrutable, his dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Y/N. You see, you've become quite an intriguing diversion for me, a delightful puzzle to unravel. And I'm not in the habit of relinquishing things that keep me entertained."

His words, spoken with chilling calm, carried an unmistakable undercurrent of threat that turned my blood to ice in my veins. "What are you saying, Chrollo?"

A smile devoid of warmth or humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It's quite simple, really. You have two options. You can choose to stay with me, to accept me for who and what I am, and continue to be a part of my life. Or..." He paused, his gaze hardening. "You can refuse, and face the consequences."

My heart raced, a sickening realization dawning on me as the true nature of my predicament became clear. "And what consequences would those be?"

Chrollo shrugged, the gesture casual and unconcerned. "Death, of course. I can't risk you going to the authorities, exposing me and my associates. If you can't be with me, then you can't be allowed to live."

The words hung in the air between us, a chilling ultimatum that left me feeling trapped and utterly helpless. I searched Chrollo's face for any sign of remorse, any hint of the man I had thought I knew, but found only cold, calculating resolve.

"I...I need time to think," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, my throat constricted with fear and despair.

Chrollo nodded, his expression impassive. "Of course. Take all the time you need, Y/N. But remember, the clock is ticking. And I'm not a patient man."

With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone, the weight of his ultimatum crushing down on me. I sank to the floor, my legs no longer able to support me, as the full horror of my situation crashed over me in relentless waves.

I was trapped, caught between a love that had turned to ashes and a fate worse than death. And no matter which path I chose, I knew that my life would never be the same again.

I sat there, numb and disbelieving, as Chrollo's words echoed in my mind. Stay with him, or die. The choice was no choice at all, a cruel mockery of free will in the face of his cold ultimatum. With a heavy heart and an overwhelming sense of despair, I realized that I had no other option.

"I'll stay," I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue, tasting of ashes and defeat. "I'll stay with you, Chrollo."

He nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark eyes, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A wise decision, Y/N. I knew you'd see reason."

But even as I agreed to his terms, a part of me rebelled against the idea of being trapped in this nightmare, of living a life shackled to a man who saw me as nothing more than a possession, a plaything to be discarded when he tired of me.

In the days that followed, I went through the motions of my life, a hollow shell of my former self. I smiled when Chrollo was around, played the role of the dutiful girlfriend, but inside, I was screaming, my soul withering with each passing moment. The weight of my despair pressed down on me, suffocating me slowly, day by day.

I couldn't bear the thought of living like this forever, of being forever bound to a monster who held no love, no true affection for me. In a moment of desperation, I made a decision. If I couldn't escape Chrollo in life, then I would find my freedom in death.

I sat in the bathtub, the steaming water lapping at my skin, providing no comfort to the icy numbness that had settled in my heart. The razor blade rested against my wrist, the metal cool and inviting, a whispered promise of release from the nightmare my life had become. My hand trembled, the weight of my decision bearing down on me, tears streaming down my face and mingling with the bathwater.

But even as I sat there, the razor poised to end my suffering, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My hand shook, the blade biting into my skin, drawing a thin line of crimson, but I couldn't find the strength, the resolve, to finish the job. Sobs wracked my body, my chest heaving with the force of my anguish, as I sat there, paralyzed by fear and despair.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

My head snapped up, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound of Chrollo's voice. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a look of detached amusement on his face, as if he'd stumbled upon a mildly entertaining scene.

"Chrollo..." I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken, barely recognizable to my own ears.

He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the bathroom, his movements casual and unhurried. "Did you really think I wouldn't know, Y/N? That I wouldn't sense your desperation, your pathetic attempt at escape?"

I lowered my gaze, shame and despair warring within me, my cheeks burning with humiliation. "I can't do this anymore, Chrollo. I can't live like this."

He crouched down beside the tub, his dark eyes glittering with a cruel sort of amusement. "And yet, here you are, unable to even commit to your own demise. How tragic."

With a sudden motion, he grasped my wrist, yanking the razor from my fingers. I gasped, more from surprise than pain, as he held the blade up to the light, examining it with a detached sort of interest.

"Did you really think this would be the answer, Y/N? That you could escape me, escape your fate, with something as trivial as this?"

He tossed the razor aside, the metal clattering against the tile floor, and cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You're mine, Y/N. Forever. And no matter how many times you try to run, to hide, to end your own miserable existence, I will always find you. I will always bring you back."

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the bathwater, as the hopelessness of my situation crashed over me anew. Chrollo was right. There was no escape, no way out of this hell I had foolishly walked into.

He stood, looking down at me with a mixture of pity and cold amusement. "Clean yourself up, Y/N. And let this be a lesson to you. Your life is mine, to do with as I please. And I'm not done with you yet."

With those words, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the bath, my skin pruning in the cooling water, my heart shattered beyond repair. I had gambled everything on Chrollo, on the love I thought we shared, and I had lost. And now, I had to live with the consequences, forever trapped in a nightmare of my own making.

Chrollo led me from the bathroom, his hand wrapped around my wrist in a grip that was both gentle and unyielding. I followed him numbly, my mind still reeling from the events that had transpired, the razor's bite still stinging on my skin. He guided me to the bed, the plush comforter soft beneath my bare legs as he lowered me onto the mattress.

I sat there, my hands clasped in my lap, my eyes downcast, as he moved about the room, his presence a tangible force, a weight pressing down on me from all sides. Fear and despair coiled in my gut, my heart racing as I tried to anticipate his next move, dreading what new torment he might have in store for me.

"Look at me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for disobedience.

I obeyed, raising my gaze to meet his, my breath catching in my throat at the intensity I saw there. He stood before me, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair falling across his brow in a way that was both casual and calculated.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his tone almost conversational, as if we were discussing the weather rather than the complete and utter destruction of my life. "Do you see the futility of your actions, the pointlessness of your resistance?"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with unshed tears. "I understand that I'm trapped," I whispered, my voice hoarse and raw, barely recognizable to my own ears. "That there's no escape from this nightmare, from you."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. You're learning."

He reached out, his fingers ghosting along my cheek, tracing the curve of my jaw with a touch that was almost tender. I shivered, my skin prickling with a mixture of fear and revulsion, my stomach churning at the unwanted contact.

"You belong to me, Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, sending a chill down my spine. "Body and soul, heart and mind. There is no part of you that is not mine, no corner of your being that I do not possess."

I closed my eyes, a single tear escaping to trail down my cheek, the hot sting of it a bitter reminder of my helplessness. He was right. I was his, wholly and completely, a moth caught in the web of a spider, helpless to resist the pull of his power.

Chrollo's lips brushed against my skin, trailing a path of fire down the column of my throat. I gasped, my hands fisting in the comforter, my body responding to his touch despite the revulsion that churned in my gut, despite the voice in my head screaming at me to fight, to resist, to do anything but submit to his twisted desires.

"You will never leave me," he whispered, his words a dark promise, a vow etched in blood and tears. "You will never escape. You are mine, now and forever."

And as his mouth descended on mine, his hands roaming over my body with a possessiveness that bordered on violence, I knew that he was right. There was no escape. Not for me, and not for anyone else who crossed his path.

I was his. And there was nothing I could do about it.

His kiss was like a drug, the taste of him addictive, the feel of his hands on my body intoxicating. I tried to resist, to push him away, but it was a futile effort. My body betrayed me, arching into his touch, craving more.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire, his breath ragged against my skin. "You can fight me all you want, Y/N. But in the end, you'll give in. You'll surrender to me, just as you did before."

"I won't," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

He smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a chill down my spine. "We'll see about that."

With a growl, he claimed my mouth again, his lips rough against mine, his teeth nipping at my skin. I cried out, my nails digging into his back, my body surrendering to the pleasure even as my mind screamed in protest.

I knew this was wrong, that I should resist, should fight him with every fiber of my being. But the line between pain and pleasure was blurred, the boundary between fear and desire a thin and fragile thing. And as he ravaged my body, his touch bruising, his voice a low and menacing growl in my ear, I realized with a sickening jolt that a part of me wanted this.

A part of me craved the pain, the darkness, the twisted power play. And that realization, more than anything else, was the final nail in the coffin of my doomed resistance.

Chrollo's hands moved over my body, his fingers tracing the lines of my hips, the curve of my breasts, a strange mix of gentleness and possessiveness in his touch. I gasped, arching into him, my pulse racing, a dull ache building between my thighs.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of my neck. "Give in to me, Y/N. Surrender."

His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair, his name a whisper on my lips.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice rough and low. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," I breathed, the words tumbling from my lips without hesitation, a damning admission of defeat. "I'm yours, Chrollo."

He kissed me again, hard and possessive, his tongue delving into my mouth. I surrendered to him, my body and mind consumed by the raw, primal need that burned between us.

He pulled back, his gaze dark and hungry, a satisfied smile curving his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing across my swollen lips. "Now, let's see just how much you're willing to give me."

He moved with a predatory grace, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, his body a weapon honed to lethal perfection. He knelt before me, his fingers deft and sure, as he spread my thighs, his lips ghosting across my heated flesh.

I cried out, my back arching off the bed, as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves at my core. He growled, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me in place as he feasted on my body, his tongue and lips working their dark magic on me.

Pleasure rippled through me, hot and urgent, my skin tingling with electricity. I gasped, my hands clutching at the sheets, my body writhing beneath his touch.

"Chrollo," I moaned, my voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, please..."

He laughed, a dark and dangerous sound, his eyes glinting with a mix of lust and amusement. "Please what, Y/N?"

"Please," I begged, the word a broken whisper, a plea for release. "I need you."

"What do you need?" he asked, his tone mocking.

"I need you inside me," I gasped, my body aching with desire, a dull, throbbing heat pulsing through my veins. "Please, Chrollo, I need you to fuck me."

His eyes darkened, a look of pure, animalistic lust flashing across his features. With a low growl, he rose to his feet, his fingers digging into my hips, lifting me effortlessly, and drove himself into me, the sudden fullness tearing a cry from my lips.

I clung to him, my nails scoring his back, my body shuddering with the force of his thrusts. He claimed me, his mouth hot and hungry on mine, his hands gripping my flesh with a bruising intensity.

The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, the scent of our desire hanging heavy in the air. I cried out, my voice hoarse and raw, the waves of pleasure crashing over me, drowning out all thought, all reason.

I lost myself in the moment, in the feeling of him inside me, filling me, completing me. For a brief, shining moment, there was nothing but us, our bodies moving as one, the line between pain and pleasure blurred and meaningless.

And then, with a cry, I shattered, my body convulsing, the release tearing through me, an explosion of sensation. I felt him follow, his movements growing erratic, his breath a ragged gasp in my ear, his release hot and intense.

We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, the sweat cooling on our skin, the aftershocks of our shared pleasure still rippling through us. I lay there, breathless and spent, a strange mix of emotions churning within me.

I was disgusted with myself, with the way I had surrendered to him, with the pleasure I had found in his arms. But beneath that revulsion, buried deep beneath the surface, was a sense of shameful satisfaction, a twisted sort of gratification.

I had given in to him. I had surrendered to the darkness, the madness, the primal desire that raged between us. And as his arms tightened around me, his breath warm against my skin, a part of me reveled in the knowledge that, no matter what happened, he would always be a part of me.

"Are you satisfied?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning, with implications. I glanced at Chrollo, my gaze flicking over his naked form, his skin still flushed with the aftermath of our encounter. He was watching me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the challenge clear in his dark eyes.

"No," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly, a thrill of anticipation running through me. "I'm not."

Chrollo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest sparking in his dark eyes. "Oh? And what more could you possibly want, Y/N?"

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I want the truth, Chrollo. The real you, not the mask you wear for the world."

A slow smile spread across his face, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Careful what you wish for, my dear. The truth can be a dangerous thing."

I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I knew the risks when I chose to stay with you. I'm not afraid of the darkness."

Chrollo chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Brave words, Y/N. But we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin, his fingers trailing along the curve of my jaw. "You may think you want the monster, but can you truly handle the reality of what I am?"

I met his gaze unflinchingly, my pulse racing with a heady mix of fear and desire. "There's only one way to find out."

With a sudden movement, Chrollo pinned me to the bed, his body covering mine, his eyes glittering with a dark hunger. "Then let me show you," he murmured, his mouth descending on mine in a searing kiss.

As the hours passed and the shadows lengthened, we lay there, entwined, our bodies slick with sweat, the air heavy with the scent of our mingled desire. Chrollo traced idle patterns on my skin, his fingers moving over my body with a familiarity born of countless encounters. But there was a distant look in his eyes, a contemplative expression that I hadn't seen before.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, curious despite myself.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze focused on something far away. "I was wondering," he said at last, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "how things might have been different, if we had met under other circumstances."

I felt a flicker of surprise at his words, a strange sensation of hope and longing stirring in my chest. "What do you mean?"

Chrollo sighed, his fingers stilling on my skin. "If I wasn't who I am, if I wasn't a criminal, a member of the Phantom Troupe... could we have had something real, something genuine?"

I swallowed hard, my heart aching at the wistfulness in his tone. "I don't know," I replied honestly. "But I'd like to think so."

He smiled then, a sad, fleeting thing that barely touched his eyes. "In another life, perhaps I could have truly fallen in love with you, Y/N. Without the lies, the secrets, the constant threat of danger hanging over us."

I reached up, cupping his cheek in my hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my palm. "But this is the life we have, Chrollo. The one we've chosen, for better or worse."

He leaned into my touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. "I know. And I don't regret it, not really. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder..."

His words trailed off, the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air between us. I knew what he meant, knew the bittersweet ache of imagining a different path, a different fate. But we both knew that there was no going back, no changing the choices we had made.

"We have each other," I said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Here and now. That's what matters."

Chrollo smiled, a real smile this time, his eyes warm and fond as they met mine. "You're right," he murmured, pulling me closer, his arms tightening around me. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

#hxh #hxh x reader #hxh x reader smut #chrollo smut #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader smut #hxh smut

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bruh-changbin · 1 year

Text

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting.

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value.

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now.

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd.

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can’t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart.

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you.

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you.

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand.

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess.

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image.

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss.

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind.

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success.

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage.

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade.

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay.

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started.

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up.

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name?

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest.

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp.

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own.

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts.

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving.

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit.

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile.

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words.

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows.

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven.

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen.

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use.

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone.

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made.

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering.

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes.

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind.

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude.

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky.

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva.

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite.

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks.

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks.

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself.

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat.

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

“i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks.

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand.

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present.

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you.

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth.

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean.

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines.

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping.

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper.

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth.

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe.

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air.

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick.

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass.

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does.

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you.

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong.

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is.

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere.

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for.

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint.

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt.

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured.

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup.

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

#enhypen smut #park jay smut #park jongseong smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen blurbs #enhypen x reader #park jongseong x reader #park jay x reader #jay park x reader #park jongseong fanfiction #park jay fanfiction #park jongseong blurbs #park jay blurbs

1K notes · View notes

simplyluunaa · 29 days

Text

˙⊹ ੈ✰[Love Languages]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Makoto Naegi, Aoi Asahina, Byakuya Togami, Celestia Ludenberg, Chihiro Fujisaki, Hifumi Yamada, Junko Enoshima, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Kyoko Kirigiri, Leon Kuwata, Mondo Owada, Mukuro Ikusaba, Sakura Ogami, Sayaka Maizono, Toko Fukawa, Genocider Syo, Yasuhiro Hagakure

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! Non-despair AU! Other than that, none!! Just fluff!

Other: Non-despair Junko, he/him pronouns for Chihiro, may have a few misspellings lol

A/N: First post!! Hello, people reading this!! Reblogs, likes, and follows are always appreciated! Constructive criticism is also welcome!! Also, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make this established relationship or like a mutual crush thing, so I tried to make it so it could go either way. Plus this is like my first time writing ANY of these characters, so please excuse any mischaracterizations or anything, I tried my best!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Makoto Naegi

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be big into conversation

Doesn’t matter about what this man just likes to yap

If you are also talkative the two of you annoy the fuck out of everyone else because do you two ever stop talking??

But even if you’re quieter, he will talk enough for the both of you

Likes to watch movies and shows with you!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Byakuya Togami

His love language is Giving Gifts

He wouldn't be that affectionate of a person side from this I fear

Plus he always brushes it off if you ask

But he was thinking about you!! <3

He’ll legit buy anything that reminds him of you or he thinks you may enjoy

Man is made of money ofc he’s gonna spoil you while also acting like he hates you

Just how he is I’m afraid

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Chihiro Fujisaki

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be very much into baking with you

Idk man feels like a baker

Also, he’d be the best person to talk to about your interests because he will listen and do his best to remember every detail!!

Do the same for him!!

May or may not install Alter Ego on one of your devices so you can spend time with them while he isn’t around

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Hifumi Yamada

His love language is Giving Gifts

If you like a game or anime…be prepared

He will buy you just so much merch

Figures, posters, shirts, hoodies, plushies, everything

If you’re especially fond of a specific character he will draw them for you!!

Maybe even write a short Doujinshi with a favorite ship of yours if he has the time

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kiyotaka Ishimaru

His love language is Acts of Service

He wants to be the Prime Minister, of course, he likes to help!

Like, I don’t know, I just have this thought like…

He’d so help you study, and like clean up your room for you

Also, I feel like if you have long hair he’d definitely brush it for you in the mornings

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though idk

But also if you do something for him to lighten his workload??

He might cry, just sayin'

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Leon Kuwata

His love language is Physical Touch

I just know this man desperately needs to touch everyone around him all the time (no I’m not projecting hush)

Like, he’s always touching someone, like an arm around his friend's shoulder or playfully ruffling someone’s hair

He’s just that kinda guy

He’d also for sure put his arm around your waist or shoulder whenever you’re around

Also, he’d probably grab your face occasionally to just squish your cheeks and tease you

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞��⟢Mondo Owada

His love language is Acts of Service

He’s a big strong man!! Of course he’s gonna do everything he can for his partner!!

No, but for real, he will do anything you ask of him AND MORE

He’s just a big softie!! And a gentleman!!

Opens doors for you, pulls your seat out for you, if you two are close enough will let you wear his jacket if you get cold

Especially if you're a girl!!

Diya raised him right!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Yasuhiro Hagakure

His love language is Physical Touch

Ok, this one is probably gonna be short cause I do not know a whole lot about this man

I feel like he’d be laid back about it, like with Leon

He’s just a touchy person, even with his friends

So expect him to just grab you and pull you into a hug, or ruffle your hair, stuff like that

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Aoi Asahina

Her love language is Physical Touch

You cannot convince me she wouldn’t always greet you with a hug

Like I just know she’s always touching you in some way

Holding hands, or her arm around your waist or shoulder

Even if you two are for some reason not touching, she’d still be incredibly close to you

If you let her she will just stand behind you and rest her chin on your shoulder

She does not care who’s around!! She wants to cuddle you she will do so!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Celestia Ludenberg

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Celestia has made a whole lotta money from gambling, so you cannot tell me she wouldn’t spoil you.

You and her cat ofc, can’t forget about Grand Bois Chéri Ludenberg

Also, I’m split between thinking that every gift would be accompanied by a grand gesture, and thinking it wouldn’t be uncommon to just find wrapped gifts on your desk or something

She’s probably very nonchalant with giving gifts (most of the time) but if you get her anything unprompted?

She melts

Like it doesn’t matter if it's expensive or not, it's just the fact that you're giving it to her that makes her go kinda mushy

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Junko Enoshima

Her love language is Acts of Service

But like…in a very strange and roundabout way

Like even without the despair, she’s still…Junko, ya know?

She’ll trip people who are rude to you, help you cheat on homework, forge documents for you

Ya know, normal bestie things!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kyoko Kirigiri

Her love language is Quality Time

I mean, it seems obvious, doesn’t it?

I think she wouldn’t want to push conversation, just being together is enough for her

She’d like to go on walks or drink tea together

A lot of long comfortable silences with her that’s for sure

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mukuro Ikusaba

Her love language is Physical Touch

I feel like this is less about affection and more about wanting to keep you safe though

Like, she’d wanna be near you just in case someone (Junko) tries to hurt you.

Which opens up a lot of opportunities to touch you!!

She’d probably be kinda shy/indifferent to it at first, but after a while, she softens up and allows hugs and such

Would have her hand on the small of your back nearly at all times

Also is the kind to pull you out of danger/away from dangerous people

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sakura Ogami

Her love language is Quality Time

Drink tea with this girl RIGHT NOW!!

She’d definitely want like an hour of just uninterrupted time with you every day

Also feel like she’d be big into taking long walks with you, maybe at night or when the sun is setting idk idk

Also very much feel as if she’d want you to work out with her

But if you don’t work out, she may or may not bench press you sorry

Or like have you sit on her back while she does push-ups

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sayaka Maizono

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Girlie makes a ton of money, she is SPOILING you!!

Buying you outfits, jewelry, expensive makeup, cute plushies!! Anything you want!

Would probably try and take you out on a shopping spree but doesn’t wanna be interrupted by fans

But she would give you her card and tell you to go crazy!! Maybe idk

If you give her a gift? Especially if it’s something you made?? Girl is melting.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Toko Fukawa

Her love language is Acts of Service

She does stuff for you, but always vehemently denies it

Helps you clean up your room, just to say she was just looking for something

Or makes you food and just says she made too much

If you're someone who tends to overwork yourself, she’ll stay near you while she writes to make sure you take breaks and eat and drink water and whatnot

Which probably also helps her to remember to do those things!!

Win-win scenario!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Genocider Syo

Her love language is Physical Touch

Tries to make out with you in public

Will also grope you without warning

Sorry but if you want her to stop you gonna have to do something about it

However, even with all that she can also be really sweet at times

I feel like she’d thrive on cuddles

Even if she does feel you up while doing so

88 notes · View notes

paigeswrld · 1 year

Text

Heart of Ice pt. 2

Azriel x Archeron!reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, angst, longing, I think that’s it??

WC: 2.8k

A/N: you guys are all so sweet, thank you for all the love on the first part<3 that was my first time ever writing anything, and when I started writing it I had no plan, just started typing. The fact that I got so much love blew my mind! There will be a third part to this, I think that will be the final part. I decided to just tag everyone that commented..(I’m new to tumblr so idk if it’ll work) Thank you guys for the support! I know I didn’t reply, but I saw every comment and I can’t begin to express how happy it made me to see that people actually liked it??

I’m always welcome to constructive criticism<33

****************************************************

After the night that Azriel promised to help you with your powers, you two spent a lot of time together. He tried taking you to the House of Wind to train, but you refused. You couldn’t stand to be around the others, not yet anyway. So, you began training in the woods.

Today was the start of the second week of training. Like yesterday, you spent an entire hour on silly breathing exercises for the mind, claiming that if you learn to control your mind then you can control your powers. Afterwards was spent doing physical training. With your lack of muscle, even the smallest things left your legs shaking and lungs gasping for air. Luckily, your new fae body had you gaining muscle much quicker than when you were human. Once you were entirely exhausted, he had you work on controlling your powers.

You still hadn’t managed to do more than conjure up a few snowflakes, and when you did manage more than that, you had trouble controlling where it went. Right now, Azriel wanted you to focus on making small, controlled patches of ice using water already in a puddle. It’s easier to use what’s already there then create something out of thin air, he had told you.

“Why do we do this last? Shouldn’t I practice when I have my full strength?” You turn to him after unsuccessfully trying to turn the small puddle to ice.

“If you learn to harness your powers while worn out, it’ll be easier at full strength. Besides, if you're tired, then your powers will be weaker, and there will be less risk of something going terribly wrong. Now try again.” He’s leaning against the tree, a casual day of pushing you to exhaustion.

You huff and turn back to the puddle. Deep breaths Y/N. Focus. It’s just a small puddle, you can turn it to ice. You willed your mind to stay calm, to focus simply on the puddle. You dig deep inside of you, invisible hands grasping the ice inside you and pushing it out, towards the puddle. It didn’t work. You hear a crackling, and a grunt from Azriel. You turn to him, only to find his legs frozen in a chunk of ice.

Never had you seen such shock on his face, which quickly turned to annoyance as he said, "Y/N, get me out of this damn ice."

You tried so, so hard to choke back the laugh that rose in your throat, but to no avail. Soon enough, you were doubled over in laughter. The sight of Azriel, the all mighty shadowsinger, stuck in a block of ice was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you had ever seen.

Azriel, however, looked far from amused. "Y/N, you need to focus. Melt the ice and then you can laugh all you want, but my feet are getting cold." Even though the shadowsinger tried to look angry, you could still hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

“Okay, okay fine.” You took deep breaths, calming your mind, before putting all your focus on turning the ice to water. You weren’t entirely convinced it would work, considering you couldn’t manage the puddle.

“I’d rather not lose my toes to frostbite, so if you could speed this up, that would be great.”

You sent a glare towards the male. “You know, I could just leave you here. Leave you to find your own way out of the ice.”

He smirked at you, his arms crossed, “You and I both know you’re not going to leave me. We’re miles from home and out of range of Rhys’ daemati powers. You have nowhere to go.”

Story of your life.

With a sigh, you focus again on that stupid chunk of ice. Despite being trapped in the ice, Azriel still thought it okay to taunt you, even though he relied on you to get out of his situation. What a fool. You were beginning to regret letting that stupid, arrogant, handsome male train you…

Suddenly, there was a crack of ice and the splash of water, your shoes becoming soaked.

You looked at Azriel, who was now free of the ice, everything below his knees soaked. Despite the cold of his legs, Azriel was grinning at you. Grinning at you like a madman.

“You did it! You did it Y/N!” He rushed toward you and before you could react, he threw his arms around your waist spinning you around while laughing, “I knew you could do it, I just had to get you mad enough!”

Finally, he put you down, that adorable grin still on his face. You looked at him confused, “What do you mean ‘get me mad enough’?”

“Like most people, your powers tend to react more to negative emotions, including anger. I figured if I was able to annoy you enough, you would be able to use those emotions towards changing the ice to water. I was right.” That smug smirk was back on his face.

Rolling your eyes you said to him, “Does this mean I have to make myself angry every time I want to use my powers?”

“No, but in the beginning, it might help.”

You nodded. What Azriel said made sense. Your magic did tend to act up when you were feeling a negative emotion, like anger or fear. But with that numbness still deep in your heart, it was hard to muster up any emotions, even negative ones. Your time with Azriel was the only reprieve you had from that feeling. With him, the ice caging your heart melted just the slightest bit, slowly melting more and more as the days with him went on.

Finally pulling yourself out of you thoughts, you realized Azriel must be freezing. “We should probably go, wouldn’t want you to get that frostbite you were talking about.” And with that you two were off, back to the city of Velaris.

As you lay in your bed that night, it dawned on you, that was the first time you had laughed in months.

***

As the weeks flew by, you began to master your powers. You could conjure up snow storms in small areas, trap people in ice, throw ice daggers, and that was just the surface, according to Azriel. Yet, you still couldn’t shake the freezing cold that followed you wherever you went, no matter how hot the fire or the amount of blankets you piled upon yourself.

While spending time with Azriel helped tremendously for that numbness that had been plaguing you, it wasn’t the cure. There were days, like today, where it was worse and you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of your bed. Azriel had knocked on your door twice now, but you had simply pulled the covers over your head and attempted to block out any and all light.

Darkness. Darkness was what you wanted. Darkness would welcome you with open arms, it would hold you as you fell back into that deep, dark, bottomless pit of numbing depression. You would stay there forever. If you stayed there, you wouldn’t have to face your sisters again. Or the inner circle. Or the feelings for Azriel that were becoming harder and harder to ignore. None of it would bother you, and you would rather lay here and rot than face those things head on.

To your dismay, the Shadowsinger walked in, creating a crack of light in your dark pit. “What are you still doing in bed? We were supposed to start training 20 minutes ago.”

You decided to just ignore him, pulling the cover farther over your head.

You feel a dip on the edge of the bed. “Did you stay up too late last night?”

Finally, you give him a response, “No.” In fact, you had fallen asleep right after you got home, neglecting dinner and a bath.

He sighs, “Then what’s going on? You need to talk to me.”

You try to come up with an excuse, to think of anything that will get him to leave you alone. You almost told him you had your cycle, but if that were true, he’d smell it on you.

“I’m just… not feeling well today. I think we should cancel training for the day.” Your voice came out muffled by the covers.

“Do you need to see a healer? Are you sick?”

An easy out. “Yes, I’m sick. Nothing serious, just need to rest for a day or two. Then I’ll be fine.” You stayed under the covers, not trusting that you’ll be able to keep up the lie if you look into those hazel eyes.

“When Fae get sick, it’s often very serious. We should probably get you to a healer. I’ll have Rhys get Madja.”

“No!” You sit up all of a sudden, pushing back the covers and your eyes wide, “I don’t need a healer. Please don’t call Rhys in here, or anyone for that matter. I just want to be left alone.” You pick at your nails, not having the courage to look him in the eyes.

Ever so gently, he takes your chin into his scarred hand and brings your eyes to his, “Tell me what’s really going on sweetheart. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” Concern laced his features as he looked at you.

You look to the side, struggling to keep eye contact. “I just… I get this feeling sometimes. Where I no longer care about anything. About myself. And I just want to lay in bed forever, in the darkness. It’s like I can’t get myself to feel anything but numb, more so than usual. I don’t want to leave bed, I don’t want to talk to anyone. I used to be afraid of the dark, before the Cauldron, but ever since I was Made it’s the only thing that makes me feel safe, it’s comforting.” You could feel your cheeks turning red at your confession, you’ve never been so vulnerable with someone.

Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion as he says, “And does anything help you to get out of these moods?”

You shake your head.

“Very well.” He stands up and walks out the door, and the feeling of rejection seeps into your bones. You had scared him away. Only a couple minutes later he returns, having changed out of his leathers into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Your eyes follow him as he walks over to your bed and pulls back the covers, placing himself right next to you.

“What are you doing?”

“We will spend two hours here, in this bed, and then we are going to spend the day outside, maybe have a picnic. Is that okay with you?” He settles down into the bed and turns on his side to face you. Unable to find the words, you merely nod your head.

“Good. I know that this is hard, and that being told that it will pass isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s true and it will. Until then, I will be by your side, helping you every step of the way. But Y/N,” you meet his eyes then, and he puts a hand on your cheek, “I can’t fix you, I can only be there to support you. This is something you have to do on your own, nobody else can do it for you. Okay?”

You could almost feel the ice inside your chest melting away. Tears were starting to form in your eyes, and your voice wobbled when you spoke, “Okay.”

A small smile formed on Azriels lips. He pulled you into his arms, and to your surprise, gave you a delicate kiss on the forehead. “Go back to sleep sweetheart, we have a picnic to rest up for.”

As your eyes drift close, Azriels shadows create a veil of complete darkness around you both. It seemed at that moment, something akin to love began to push its way through the ice in your heart, and not once did he mention the chill on your skin, or how his arms seemed to be the only thing that kept it at bay.

***

It had been three months since the day Azriel comforted you in bed. He has continued to do so anytime he found you nestled under the covers, refusing to leave. Some days he would hold you while you told him all of your thoughts, exposing every corner of your wretched mind. Other days you two would stay completely silent, allowing the darkness to be your only source of comfort.

But there was that one day… that one day that Azriel told you everything. He had laid his heart bare for you to see, showing you the darkness that lurked inside. He told you of his childhood, the story behind his hands, the fears and nightmares that still haunt him. The worst one, he had told you, was that voice in his head, his fathers voice, telling him he would never be enough. Telling him nobody would ever love him, for how could somebody love a monster such as Azriel? He wiped away your tears, and you his, as you told him that anyone would be lucky to have him as their own, that they should feel honored. You couldn’t help but see the resemblance… how you both never felt like you were enough. You hugged him tighter after that, and he drifted off to sleep shortly after.

It was that day that the bond snapped for you, as you looked at Az peacefully asleep in your arms. You let out a gasp, not loud enough to wake him. You could feel it then, that golden tether linking you two together for eternity. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the male you’d grown to love being yours for the rest of your existence.

There was one problem, you realized. You still hadn’t forgiven your sisters, and they you, and you weren’t sure you ever could. How could you ever get over such a thing? That feeling of love quickly turned to a feeling of dread as you realized, Azriel would have to choose. These people were his family, and even if you were his mate, that didn’t mean he would pick you. You had decided then that you wouldn’t tell him. You knew that if you did, you would lose your mate forever, and you would rather love him as his friend than not get to love him at all.

***

It had been a week since the bond snapped, and you now stood skipping stones in front of a small pond as Azriel tried to convince you to attend family dinner at the House of Wind. He’s been trying to do so for the past couple weeks, claiming everyone wants to see you.

“I’ve already told you Az, it’s too much. What if something goes wrong with my powers again?” Not turning to face Azriel as you threw a stone at the water, sending it skipping across the pond.

You could almost hear the frown in his voice, “You have full control over your powers now, you can’t keep using that same excuse. They all want to see you, they miss you.”

You turned back to face him as your face scrunched up in anger, “Don’t lie to me Az. They don’t know me well enough to miss me. Those that do don’t care about me, they just want me to show up and act like everything is fine so they don’t have a guilty conscience. I won’t put myself through the pain of having to act like I’m okay just to soothe their selfish worries about their character.” You were almost chest to chest with the Shadowsinger, temper rising as you stared him down.

“If you just gave them a chance, Feyre and Elain both ask about you every time I come home, and even Nesta has asked how you are doing. What they did was wrong, but they’re trying to make things better. Shouldn’t you at least hear them out? If not for them, then for you. Give yourself that closure.” You could see the pleading in his eyes, begging you to do this. For you. For him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not as he looked at you with those big, beautiful eyes. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes before looking back up to him, “Okay. One dinner, and you have to promise that if I want to leave at any point— even if we just stepped foot through the door— you will get me out of there. Deal?”

He put his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer, “It’s a deal.” As you looked at him, triumph written all over his face, you began to wonder if maybe, for a chance at being with him, you could look past all that your sisters had done.

And so it was settled, two days from now you would be attending the Inner Circle’s family dinner.

***************************************************

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@illyrian-dreamer @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @venussdovess @fall-myriad @mischiefmaryon @lana08 @aetherl0l @anniestar2 @nobody00sthings @goldenmagnolias @booksboysandbaklava @letspretendimnottrash @xiangping-28 @nemesis6666 @im-bili @brekkershadowsinger @feyretopia @katcandy @valeridarkness

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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my-horniness-is-okay · 1 year

Text

Hellooo, this is my first fanfiction so please go easy on me 🙏 not beta read so probably some errors. The character is obviously aged up, idk where in the timeline bc I’ve only played the first two games. I tried to keep him in character as much as I could, sorry if it’s not great. MC is supposed to be gender neutral, genitalia and appearance is not detailed.

Synopsis: the head of the Togami Corporation has his eye on the new intern. After hiring a private investigator, he discovers that the object of his affections is a sex worker; he has found his angle to get closer in a way he understands. Paying for what he wants.

Warning: unhealthy obsession, unhealthy power dynamics, nsfw content, graphic sexual content, Switch Byakuya, Byakuya gets pegged lol, oral sex MC receiving, sex toys, prostitution/dominatrix MC, edging and overstimulation, begging and slight dacriphilia, implied stalking, classism, asshole rich guy being conniving and entitled who could’ve guessed, MC is subjected to corporate bullshit, um tell me if I missed anything

Byakuya couldn’t help but feel just a bit awkward. It’s not like anyone at this kitschy cafe would really stare at him this late in the evening, even with him being the sole survivor of the Togami name and all; it was dark out and a weekday so most would be at home, not actively seeking out more caffeine.

This place was your recommendation, and after sending that private investigator after you a while back he found out that this is a place you liked to schedule meetings with clients, but this cafe was too low brow for his liking; tacky decor, shoe prints scuffed onto the floor, and a few too many frazzled college students damn near weeping into their coffee mugs as they furiously hammer away on their keyboards. Not to mention, his tea was a little oversteeped; Just awful, Byakuya thought to himself, clenching on the toy faithfully nestled inside of him, how long do I have to wait in this dump? In reality, it had only been a few minutes, but he had been waiting the whole day to get to this point, canceling his meetings and setting his work aside to get ready for this date.

Byakuya shifted in his seat, feeling himself throb and shiver as he remembered your instructions; clean himself up real nice inside and out, put on that nice new white shirt with the gold detailing that makes him look so pretty, and edge himself. Edge himself until he can’t stand it, until he is shaking and just wants to cry and be gifted release. Then get up, put himself together, straighten himself out, have his driver take him to this ridiculous cafe, and tell his driver to park the car in the alleyway and fuck off somewhere else until he is ready to go home.

Well he did, and now he waits sexually frustrated and irritated at everything, hands trembling slightly around the warmth of his mug as the bell tinkles above the front door and a cold breeze from the outside sends an electric current up his spine. He quickly takes a sip of his halfway full cup as the barista loudly welcomes in the newcomer, who’s murmured hello and approaching footsteps were all too familiar to Byakuya. He tried to ignore the pulse of excitement that shot to his cock, staring down at his drink nonchalantly, but he can’t prevent the quiet whimper that slips past his lips when he feels your gentle hand slide over his shoulder as you walk from behind him into view.

You’re as lovely as always, eyes captivating, smiling gently, and saying something in greeting he wasn’t listening to, far too busy drinking you in. You had all your usual luster but his heartbeat hammered uncomfortably loud in his ears as he gawked stone faced, just knowing you would be touching him, that he would finally be touching you. You look nice, but your clothes are notably non-constrictive. For easy access, Byakuya swallowed, just taking in your presence.

“Togami? Y’alright?” Your voice calls his attention as you sit down across from him, pulling your bag in your lap. He makes a little hmm? sound, face flushed and hands nervously stirring his tea. “Busy day, huh?”

His lips part as he pauses, wondering what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was dwell on small talk. “I’m here on time. What’s your excuse?” You had a quizzical look on your face; true, you were only about 10 minutes late, but that felt like centuries to Byakuya. He had wanted you for so many months ever since you had started interning at the Togami Corporation; You were all polite nods and smiles with uncaring sardonic eyes, bracing yourself for the lowly corporate job you signed up for. Even passing him in the hall there was something sarcastic in your bow, something joking in your tone- Oh yes what an honor Mr Togami, said with all the eagerness of a wooden board. Something about your frankness, your beauty, your humor- he hated it, hated how crazy you drove him.

“Traffic,” you dismissed lightly with a quirk to your brow. “Never knew you to be one for punctuality- in fact, I overhear enough gossip around the office to know that you’re never on time. Your meetings start and end according to your whims, right Mr Togami?” Byakuya swallowed, eyes trained on your fingers tap tap tapping against the tabletop. “And you came,” your fingers stilled, “right on time for me, didn’t you?” Clenching on the toy inside of him he glanced up to your gaze, quickly looked away as if he had been burned by the mere intimacy of the act, and nodded sheepishly. A tch aww left your smile as you tilted your head at him, your legs brushing against his under the table. “See, you can behave when you want to; you’re even wearing the shirt I picked out for you!” God, how your praises set him on fire, “Does that mean you did everything I asked of you?”

“Obviously, I’m not an animal.” He scoffed; he didn’t really know why he snapped like that when you already could tell how much he was enjoying being under your scrutiny, but what does a man like himself say to such a thing? Must he suffer the indignity of having his intelligence questioned? His hygiene? His physical endurance? His ability to follow simple fucking directions?

“Watch your tone.” You chided quietly, the sultry simplicity of those words made him dizzy, “How tragic it would be for you to have gotten this far just to have me punish you because you chose to be a brat. Wouldn’t that be sad?” He nodded once, his tongue darting out to wet the corner of his mouth as he took a nervous deep breath. “You gotta use your words, honey.”

He felt his pride tightening his throat in defiance to being spoken down to in such a manner, causing him to simply gawk once more. He ached for you, your touch and your simpering mockery and your confidence all had him throbbing with the need to finally feel your skin on his. All he wanted was to be worthy under your wry gaze, to impress you, to please, to-

Suddenly you stood, lifting your bag onto your shoulder and pushing in your chair. “Listen, if you’re not ready for this-”

“I am!” He exclaimed a little too quickly, face scorching hot with embarrassment. “I just- it’s hard! For me to-” Byakuya lets out a slow angry sigh as he averts his gaze, more frustrated with himself than you, “It’s difficult for a man in my position to- to trust someone with this.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed, “It’s understandable to be nervous, but we worked out the do’s and don'ts at our previous meeting, remember? And the NDA.” Something softened in your voice, “I see you hesitating. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. This is all at your own pace, remember? Let’s do this when you are more emotionally ready.” You turn, starting to take your first step away to the door when suddenly he snatches your wrist in his tight grasp. Looking down, you see that Byakuya’s eyes now lack the austereness they usually carry, replaced with an embarrassed yearning.

“I am,” he positively pleads, sounding more sure than ever, “I need this. Please- Please show me.” The depth of your eyes makes him breathless as you search his face for a moment, before slipping your wrist out of his grasp and gently taking his hand, smiling; your warmth against his uncalloused palm made him annoyingly giddy.

“Then be a good boy and put your mug on the counter so the nice barista doesn’t have to come all the way over here to clean it up.” You let go of his hand. “I’ll be waiting by the door.”

A burst of excitement shoots through his chest, full of relief as he gingerly stands up, the toy settling inside of him as he grasps the half full cup by the rim. He is so ecstatic at not letting you slip through his grasp, he only is slightly affronted at having to do the plebeian’s work and return the ugly mug of oversteeped tea to the sticky counter, where the barista is too preoccupied with their phone to even thank him for gracing the trash bin they called a cafe. As he gently sets the glass on the granite counter, Byakuya watches you across the room; you’re looking through your bag triple checking you have everything you need, glancing out the window and checking the time as he approaches you.

“Good boy~” You purr, looping your arm through his. The bell above the door jingles as you enter the autumn night air together.

…

If he knew about how all consuming you would become to him, Byakuya would not have left finding interns for the Togami Corp to his underlings; he would have vetoed their decision, thrown out your resume, and eradicated the problem like crushing a bug beneath his expensive boot. This passion, this weakness has ruined him he knows, but the secrets of Pandora’s box cannot be silenced, and dammit neither can he while he lays underneath you.

You had thrown down a towel on the plush leather of the backseat of the car Togami arrived in. With his trousers, coat, and boxers discarded haphazardly over the partition and on the cab floor, Byakuya laid facing up with his white and gold shirt partially unbuttoned. You said missionary so he is in missionary, you said to hitch his knees up to his chest so now his socked feet were brushing the ceiling, and you said you wanted to put him in a cock ring and well, here he was.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby~” You mutter between kisses. He can hear the grin in your voice but he can’t care when you’re playing with the plug he brought inside himself, teasing his entrance with one hand and the other trailing up his chest to his throat. Diaphragm rising and falling, his dark pink head was leaking with arousal, aching and needy to burst already as your strap on brushes against his length. The car was filled with the humidity of sweat and cologne as you both took shelter from the quiet alleyway.

Using the bottle of lube from your bag you prep the strap for him, the slick sound emanating in the small space makes electricity shoot throughout his body. It was finally happening, having you so close and so alone; it almost felt like a dream to Byakuya, staring up at you like he was in a spell. The light from the street lamps outside barely illuminated you, the enclosing shadows making the space seem smaller, more intimate. The thought that no one but him was seeing you in this moment had him damn near keening. This was all for him, he owned this hour with you.

The plug was set to the side and Byakuya shakily sighed at the loss of sensation. Teasingly dragging the tip around his entrance, the slippery silicone of the toy creates a quiet squelching sound that makes Byakuya throb. Watching you unblinking, his desperation emanates from him, his pink lips silently form the words please please please.

As you start to ease in the head of the toy, his lips press together, glasses askew and eyes closed in a relaxed focus. A quiet noise resonated from his throat as it slipped in, his flushed chest rising and falling under his half unbuttoned dress shirt. Under you with his legs hitched up to his chest, his head was thrown back in pleasure and a few stray tears wetting his lashes and trickling down his temples.

“You’re so pretty like this, pet,” you coo, and he really is, “doing so well. Take me a bit more, yeah?” He shakily nodded, so you gradually pushed the girth deeper, his lips parting at the stretch. “How’s that feel, baby?”

He takes a shaky deep breath, practically panting in arousal as his member twitches, and his smooth white thighs shaking under his vice grip. “More.” He murmured; It doesn’t sound like a command like he intends it to be, more like a whine.

You give his thigh a hard smack, and when he jolts he accidentally rocks back and forth on the strap-on, gasping and opening his pleading eyes.

“Is that how you’re supposed to ask?” You say, your fingers massaging the tender pinking flesh. The words have him clenching around the toy, a tingling sensation darting through his limbs.

He chuckles diverting his wanton gaze up to the ceiling of the cab, Adam’s Apple bobbing, he clings to his embarrassment a bit longer as his tongue darts out and quickly licks his bottom lip. “I, uh-“ he falters, not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he’s not sure if his pride can handle listening to his own voice admit to what he wants out loud.

You strike him again on the same side, this time on his ass cheek. A sigh, almost a squeak, escapes him as he furrows his brow at you, his eyes misty with longing and bashfulness. You start to pull out and Byakuya’s mouth drops open at the feeling; the head of the toy catching on his entrance before pushing it back in shallowly, only as deep as you had gotten before. He nearly keens as you strike him again but harder, lazily dragging the toy in and out, shallow thrusts that do nothing but tease his entrance.

“Please.” His voice cracks, eyes watering as he stares desperately, trying to move his hips to pull the toy deeper, so he gets another spank. He hums a stifled groan, heart skipping a beat.

“Please, what?” You demand with a shit eating grin, watching his obstinance melt under the pain and pleasure.

You, You, You, maddening beguiling You with your razor sharp smile somehow draining him of his dignity. He never signed up for this religion of his, but he found his new god in You whether he liked it or not.

“Fuck,” he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head away; his mouth is rosy and a little swollen from being kissed so much, and you can’t help but feel like there is something a bit Adonis-like to his face when he isn’t being so cold.

You grip him by his disheveled hair and force him to look at you; his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and squeaks under his breath. “C’mon, pet,” You smack his hip hard, so much so that he bleats, his brows knitting together as he looks up with humiliated pleasure, “use your words.”

“I-“ As he falters a quiet whine resonates from the back of his throat, “I need it, please. Please fuck me. I- Master, fuck, I-“

He’s cut off as you finally thrust in deeper; his eyes roll back as he lets out a shrill ecstatic sigh, giving him what he so desires as we ease up to the hilt of the toy, your pelvis snug against his, the tip of the toys nestled snugly against his prostate. Dropping your grip on his ruffled blond locks, you caress up and down his soft thighs, letting him get used to the length.

“Better, sweetheart?” He jerks his head in a vague nod to the question. His breathing is ragged as he savors the stretch, lost in his own world as he trembles excitedly. His cock pulses, dripping and twitching on his abdomen.

“‘M ready. Please, master.” His tone is a little childish, a petulant whine to beg for his reward. A choked sob escapes him as your hand rubs his balls and you start to gently rock back and forth inside of him, admiring his flushed cheeks and focused expression.

“See, baby?” Your voice chimes with an undertone of mocking, pulling out a bit more for some real thrusting, “see how easy it is when you just behave? Get you everything you want.” As the toy gets pushed back in he lets out a small cry of pleasure, “Everything you want.”

Setting a slow pace, low drawling moans reverberate in his chest as people pass by at the entrance of the alleyway, just a few paces from his begging and debauchery, just a few meters from witnessing this young man’s dreams coming true. Byakuya reaches up to pull you in closer and kisses you feverishly, and when his lips open begging to taste you his noises are freed from his throat; between each lick and thrust he vocalizes, he can’t help it, filling up the tiny space. In this moment he is a thing to be owned, nothing else exists.

“Doin’ so well, being used like this. So perfect for me aren’t you?” He moans an ardent affirmative, “This what you want, baby?” You ask between kisses, a hand teasing his head.

He’s breathing heavier now, holding back his shrill panting in the back of his throat as the toy massages deep within him, grinding his hips flush against yours. “Please,” it’s a barely contained whisper, he has tears in his eyes and he looks like a dog begging, “please- I just need it. Fuck me hard. Please.”

Byakuya bites your lip and he grinds his hips in tandem to yours, his hands releasing their hold on his thighs, his feet planted firmly on the ceiling of the cab now as his hands grip your hips pulling you into practically lay on top of him. “Hmm?” you breathe, the sound almost a moan as his long elegant fingers grip like a vice into your back, into your skin. He can feel arousal of your own dampening your inner thighs at this point; Byakuya smugly wondered if you got this worked up for all your clients. Jolting him out of his thoughts you reach down and start to fist his straining cock, leisurely dragging the foreskin back and forth causing him to gasp and tense up, unconsciously pushing the strap out by an inch or two.

“No, please, not like this, I-“ he whines in a panic, gripping the wrist that has a hand on his dick; Byakuya stills you entirely, his fingers massaging your skin as he tries to relax and slow his breathing. Sighing, he plants kisses along your jaw over to the hollow of your ear, “I want- master, god fuck- just, please fuck me for real already, I- Oh~” Cutting him off as your hand lifts from his cock and grips his throat, you draw the length out and when you quickly snap your hips forward, his voice cracks he cries out so loudly and suddenly. Back and forth, you keep the steady rhythm, gripping his white hips and pounding into him hard, watching as he comes undone. For a moment his hands scramble for purchase against the leather seats, desperate for something to ground him as his loud moans filled the cab, a sensation he had never felt before spreading over every inch of his skin. Pleasure trickles through his nerves like a tsunami, pleasure that for the first time stretches beyond his cock, throughout his whole body.

Like the air is being punched out of his lungs, he rocks up against the seats, the crown of his blonde head brushing against the door behind him, his feet dragging on the ceiling, his long gangly legs framing your shoulders. Removing your hand from his throat, you grip the headrest of the front seat and give him deep powerful strokes that seize up his limbs painfully and have him shaking. Each cry melds into the last, quickly becoming a stream of moans each as loud and undignified as the one prior. The toy hits too deep, persistent and punishing and unbearably good. He doesn’t know how long the feeling lasts, but he remains on the edge of an orgasm like the ebb and flow of the sea; closer and closer still and then receding back into himself again. Weeping openly he begs, he has never felt this good before and that scares him, not knowing if he wants the sensation to end or go on forever.

Falling suddenly silent, Byakuya cums much quicker than he would have liked, gripping you hard in shock as his rigid limbs thrash at the sensation that he had never felt quite like this; like you had lit a flame in his feet and he felt it creep all the way up his body, slowly moving through his torso and making him shiver.

Even after his cock had stilled, his head was still spinning, his heart hammering. Keeping one hand on your hip to keep you flush against him, his other hand reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes, bumping his glasses clumsily. He shudders as you carefully remove his cock ring. You were certain that for once not a single thought was in that beautiful head of his as he blinked his wet lashes slowly and dreamily.

When he glanced down at himself, he was surprised to see that there wasn’t any cum on him. He had cum dry, his cock a bit more relaxed after removing the cock ring but still stiff. He almost couldn’t believe that you made him feel that good without the external release he was so accustomed to; he might’ve described it as witchcraft if he was a superstitious man.

“I want…” Byakuya says much too slowly, much meeker than he would have liked, “I want to make you cum. Can I?” His heart soars when you chuckle. “Sit on my face, please? I want- I want to please you too.”

“You are a good boy, aren't you?” Leaving the toy inside of him, he watches you as you unbuckle the strapon from your hips. “Damn near read my mind, baby~” You sound delighted as you crawl over him, his awkwardly long legs cramping up against the door by his feet. His heart melts when you gently remove his glasses from his face with a laugh, setting them off to the side somewhere as you saddle up to his face, gripping his hair and pulling him forward to your heat.

He is shocked by how the smell of your sex drives him mad, incapable of stopping himself from breathing in frantically like a hound as he grips the fat of your hips. After one tentative lick he is hooked, burying his face between your thighs and devouring you feverishly like a man starved. His cock throbs at the taste, his heart leaping out of his chest at your quiet groaning and your firm grip on his hair. He needs this shit on tap, he realizes, Byakuya can’t live without this. Your taste at the back of his throat, swirling his tongue passionately along your slit while groaning in excitement makes him feel high. He is thrilled when you really start to get into it, moving his head back and forth and humping his face like he’s your toy, making his jaw ache. You need him so badly as you grow swiftly closer to your climax, your voice rising and your pace speeding up. Your arousal starts to ooze out of the corners of his mouth as he eagerly works his tongue to your pleasure.

Byakuya’s hips leap when you reach back around and start playing with his throbbing cock; Much to his embarrassment he ejaculates immediately with a loud grunt, pleasure overtaking him once again. The orgasm this time does not keep him in limbo like the last one did, instead it is reliable and easy, though notably more intense than normal. Semen paints his stomach, shooting out of him hot and fast, leaving him trembling ferociously once again. Even after his cum soaks your hand you don't stop stroking him, riding his face harder as you gradually come up on your own release, overstimulating him in the process.

His throbbing pleasure transforms into an aching numbness. Hungrily, he grips you fiercely and yanks you forward, forcing you to lean against the door above his head and suffocate him with your weight, grinding on his mouth. It’s heaven when he finally makes you cum, filling his mouth with you and making you shout. He needs this, Byakuya thinks to himself, he needs this warmth between your quivering thighs forever. It’s where he belongs; It’s where you belong.

After a few minutes, when you come down from your high, you ease yourself off of him with a shaky laugh that reignites his pride. He made you feel like that. Byakuya was the one who summoned the relaxed expression on your face as you straddled his waist, carefully brushing his bangs out of his eyes. You say something but he is so zoned out he doesn’t hear you. “Hm?” Byakuya breathes out, squinting up at your blurry form dreamily.

“Feeling good, huh?” Your chuckle and teasing grin melt his already relaxed self. “All I said was that you did well.”

Byakuya had a hard time thinking of a response. He was so blissed out, so at ease as he absentmindedly massages your now bruising hips. After a long pause he sharply chimed, “Our hour isn’t up yet.”

“Still got more in you?” You sounded surprised.

“Just-” Byakuya slowly shook his head, face heating up. “Just reminding you.” After removing the toy from inside of him and putting it in a ziplock baggy along with the plug and ring, he sat up with his back against the door and with you straddling his lap. “Where are my glasses?” He asked in an annoyed tone. After you retrieved them from under the driver’s seat, he donned them again, blinked at you, and sighed at the sight.

“So what do you want to do now?”

“Um,” Byakuya hesitated, his fingers clutching your soft waist possessively, not knowing how to ask for something more affectionate without embarrassing himself. He swallowed, avoiding your gaze. “I think I- well, let’s just relax for now.” He drawls sheepishly.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you lift your hand and bring it up to his head; his scalp was thrumming from having his hair pulled a few minutes ago. As your deft fingers card through his blond locks, he admires the way you smile mockingly as he unconsciously leaned into your touch. “You’re cute~” He found something demeaning in your tone that sent a pulse of excitement to his spent cock; how the hell do you do that, he marveled.

“Do you… usually cum like that? With your clients, I mean.” Byakuya cleared his throat nervously, his jealousy ravenously clawing him apart from the inside out; he didn’t want to ask it but it came out anyway.

“Why do you ask?” You challenged teasingly, “I do have to be confidential about my clients, you know.” Anger tightened Byakuya’s throat, making him feel hot. Didn’t you know how special this was? How honored you should be that the Byakuya Togami has fallen for you? His own feelings disgusted him, but as your gentle fingers combed his blond locks from out of his eyes and back out of his face, he felt the rage melting out of him again. “Silly boy.”

His deft hands massaged your hips tenderly as he stared at you, watching as you gulped under the intensity of his gaze. You seemed uncomfortable, and some part of him liked it; seeing you squirm and glance away as he stared you down. “I want to schedule another appointment.”

The sound of your surprised laugh made his heart swell in a way he found particularly vexing. “Well I do love good business, but how about you pay me for this one first?” You snapped.

He grinned sleazily, feeling for the first time you were speaking a language he knew how to speak back. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and fished his phone out from one of the pockets. Ordering you a ride home, sending you the thousands of dollars straight from his personal account and pulling up his calendar with lightning speed, he breezed through to your next day off and canceled his meetings for that day with barely a glance in your direction. He knew your schedule inside and out from what the private investigator told him, so it was a breeze to find a day you were open.

Those measly thousands meant absolutely nothing to him; if they want to earn real money they’ll have to actually work for it, go where I want us to go and wear what I want them to wear! Byakuya thought to himself, not that trash cafe and these cheap rags for mere pennies to pay for that little hovel you called home.

He knew that if he eased you into the lifestyle of his caliber, gave you a taste for the finer things in life and got you attached to easy living, he would have you begging to be his lifelong pet- a modern day concubine all for himself. His smile was sinister as he watched you blink at his phone screen with great interest, gawking at all the pretty numbers. With the Togami fortune at your leisure, how could you ever deny him? Eventual mistresses and bastard children be damned, you’d be eating out of the palm of his hand in no time, an empty headed little bird trapped in a gilded cage. And the thought alone had his cock pulsing with excitement again.

——-

Yandere Byakuya smut! Please leave a comment and constructive criticism! I hope you enjoyed <3

#yandere #Yandere smut #Dom reader #smut #rich yandere #Yandere Dangonronpa #yandere byakuya togami #Yandere stalker #Yandere anime #switch reader #gender neutral mc #chubby reader #dangonronpa

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lord-squiggletits · 3 months

Text

In the last salty asks post I unintentionally went on a tangent in the notes about how JRO wrote religious characters which is like actually something I want to bring up on its own so like

Is it just me or does JRO have some real misses when it comes to writing religious characters? Not like every religious character is badly written or evil, but like... several of the ones that are fall into really bad or unflattering/shallow stereotypes? It's hard to put my finger exactly on why I feel that way bc he does write some actually good religious characters (aka Cyclonus).

For example, characters like the Functionist Council and Star Saber are fine to me because I'm like. Well Functionism being religious in origin makes sense, it's an interesting interplay of how religion influences the state/how the state leverages religion to bend the populace to its own whims. Religious bad guys =/= all religious people bad. Star Saber is just some random zealot that wasn't meant to be that deep at all, and eh the Inquisition-type religious zealot can be cool even if it's just the vibes of it.

But then there's stuff like... Tyrest being a normal, rational, not particularly religious guy until he gets shot with a bullet that gives him brain damage, causing him to start ranting about Cyberutopia and thinking God is personally talking to him in his brain...? Like, idk, was it really the best idea for an antagonist to go "he is evil because he got brain damaged against his will w/o even knowing what really happened to him and also because he's brain damaged he's now literally delusional and became a religious (and genocidal) maniac." It comes off as really bad taste/not thinking the implications through as far as how it reflects on religious people (bc the whole "religious people are literally delusional and stupid to think that their gods could possibly exist" thing is tired and offensive). Not to mention kind of ableist w/ the whole "oh he became evil bc he got shot in the brain and now there's literally something wrong with his mind."

(Doesn't help that the MTMTE logbooks revealed that the original idea for Tyrest was to have his killswitch be about trying to identify and execute all of the criminals/"guilty people" on Cybertron, basically an extension of his role as Chief Justice which makes so much more sense and is way more interesting and compelling???? Certainly better than (gets brain damaged) "Ah I'm now going to genocide all cold constructs because God told me to")

And then Drift with spectralism which...which... basically the extent of that whole religion is the name of a single festival (the Lost Light festival the eponymous ship was named after), and some stuff about face/body paint and colors having spiritual symbolism, then the Guiding Hand/Primus stuff that's also shared with Primalism. But then you have Drift who's the main representative of this religion basically being written as a phony who doesn't even believe in the shit coming out of his mouth. Or if his beliefs are sincere, the way he acts is basically just "oooooh, I sense unclean vibes and read into the energy of the universe" which is played for laughs or mocked by the other characters most of the time. And Drift's character is written so inconsistently (and the general religious worldbuilding so one-dimensional) that it's hard to tell if Drift is supposed to be read as some kooky fake hippie type or if he's genuinely a representation of Spectralism in general. Like, idk, the best JRO could come up for for building a religion was "they wear certain colors and patterns on them and vaguely talk about sensing energy from the universe?" It literally feels like baby's first fictional religion or like, religion as understood by a non-religious/atheist person who sees religion as nothing more than an aesthetic or some quirky rituals.

I'm not saying the story had to be about religion or have religion be brought up in every conversation, it's just...... the way he wrote/did worldbuilding for it comes off as as very "non-religious person who doesn't have any particular understanding of religion/why people are religious tries to write what they think religion is about" and most of the time it's kinda cringe.

#squiggposting #negativity #discourse #again i'm reiterating that my critique isn't 'all the religious characters are evil/all the evil ppl are religious' bc that's not true #it's more just that the religious characters are in general written as mediocre at best or offensively at worst #also in the case of drift who's (for better or worse) asian coded #his religion doesn't even have a strong resemblance to any traditional japanese beliefs either #like. all religions have spiritually significant colors or garments or symbols #the whole 'energy of the universe' could be similar to daoism maybe but it's never elaborated on besides that #just. mediocre mediocre mediocre religious worldbuilding/character writing

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 10 months

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Hello! I was wondering if I could request Wrecker x reader where they sneak off really late at night for a cute little walk because they haven't been getting enough alone time. And it's a new relationship, so everything's still all cute and giggly. Maybe they think they are being quiet when they are sneaking back in, but something funny happens and reader is like dieing laughing and Hunter walks in like wtf is going on. Idk, feel free to ignore. Ily ♡

Warnings and Information: No real age warning for this one. 2nd person POV, undescribed Reader that can be read as gender neutral. Little sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language (everyone say "thank you, Crosshair!"). It’s all the giddiness of a new(ish) relationship with the powerhouse of Clone Force 99 that is Wrecker. 🩷 Impromptu date late at night. Decided on a Modern!AU for this one where (most of) the Bad Batch work as a construction crew, and there's a few cameos of other Clones too. Hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Word-count: 4,544

Setting your bag down on the welcome mat, you thread your house key into the lock with an eager sigh. You're pretty tired. You finally have a free night, thankfully, and you've been away from home all day.

You're looking forward to just vegging out on the couch to catch the season finale of your favorite show for the next hour and crawling into bed as soon as you finish trawling the 'net for other people's impressions of the finale. There's a lot of speculation regarding the dashing rogue of the series, and whether or not they'll finally pluck up the courage to share this big secret the show writers have been dangling over the fans. You just hope some news article doesn't show up in your social media feed only to come along and spoil it in the headline.

"People really need to learn to tag their kriffing spoilers… It's not that hard."

You bump the door open and hoist the bag back over your shoulder just as someone calls out your name.

"H-hey! Wait up!"

You pause in the entryway, cheeks pinching with a large smile. "Hey Wrecker." The way he's doubled over, hands pressed into his knees while he pants for air, you can guess Wrecker had likely jogged over to your place from his. He lives not too far from you, and it's a jog he's made several times before, but it has been a slightly warmer than average day that has only just begun to cool off in the last few hours. Tech, one of Wrecker's brothers, calls the phenomenon the "heat island" something or other. Effect? (If that wasn't right that sounded close enough.) "You okay? Here, come on in. Would you like some water?"

"B-but- Weren't you jus' leaving?" Wrecker manages between slowing pants. He used the edge of his sleeve to mop the sweat from his brow once he's upright, fixing you with a woozy smile when you hook your fingers around his own and lead him inside. "Oh, no, I just got home, actually. How come?" You fill a glass from the cold tap and rummage around the freezer for some ice to make it a little more refreshing. Wrecker just ran so hot sometimes you were surprised he didn't pass out on some of his job sites as a construction worker.

"I- oh, thanks, cyare." Wrecker greedily gulps down a few mouthfuls of water to relieve himself of his thirst, careful not to spill down his front or all over your kitchen floor.

The intimacy of the pet name makes your ears flush with warmth, and your cheeks pinch a little more with a tender smile. "You're welcome."

The worst of his thirst now quelled, Wrecker could explain why he thought he had caught you leaving the house. "I, uh, I came over to ask if you wanted to go do something. Together. Jus' the two of us. Worried that I got off work too late or took too long to clean up a bit and I caught you about to leave. I know it's nearly eleven, but it's been a while since we had a moment to spend time together… just to ourselves." There was good reason for the emphasis on the last three words. In the infancy of your relationship with Wrecker, you have only had one date together that wasn't interrupted in some way by his job, or one of your day to day priorities, or one of his brothers.

You liked his brothers well enough thus far, but sometimes they really needed to learn when to butt out. Or what was appropriate for company.

"Wrecker, have you seen my live specimen?"

"Hunter! One of Tech's kriffing specimens got loose again! Can't find the damn thing!"

"Oh Maker…"

"L-let's leave, cyare. It's not a dangerous specimen or nothing, but it's jus' creepy."

You smiled at Wrecker, and to him, those smiles could have thawed out an ice planet like Hoth twelve times over. Smiles that could get Crosshair, even in his most sour of moods, to return the gesture even for a fleeting moment. "Time just to ourselves sounds very, very nice… What'd you have in mind? I'm down for anything." The minute you pulled him across the welcome mat you decided you wouldn't mind watching the final episode of the season another time. Wrecker was here, and by happy coincidence, your schedules were completely free for the weekend. You could stay up as late as you liked.

"You wanna go for a bite? Or maybe go take a walk?" Wrecker offers. You like the idea of a casual walk, now that it's cooler. You glance at your footwear, a pair of sandals, and think for a moment it'll be smart to put on a pair of closed-toed shoes. "A walk sounds nice," you reply brightly, "You wanna go… uh, how about by the lake in the park?"

Wrecker grins at the idea. He's got such an infectious smile that gives you butterflies in the pit of your stomach and a booming, boisterous laugh that you just loved. "Sure, tha' sounds nice! Been meaning to go see it one'a these days, but I'm busy helpin' my brothers with work most of the week." He'd love to go check it out with you, he says.

Going to the lake took you past Wrecker's house, all dark save for two windows. Tech's, of course, and you believe the second is another brother of Wrecker's who's moved in only recently.

You haven't had the opportunity to meet him yet. You hope to, one day, when he's ready.

"He's… been through a lot. One'a our other brothers thought it might be a good idea if he came and lived with us for a bit. Quieter. Less people."

"How many brothers do you have, Wrecker?"

He had laughed, scratching nervously around the back of his head with a great shrug. "I dunno, honestly. I have a lot of brothers. But, I get along best with Hunter, Tech and Cross… So I hope I get along with Echo too."

"I'm sure you will, Wrecker. You're friendly and kind and sweet… a-and um…" Your mouth had gotten away from you, then. You had only been friends back then, and you'd slowly grown closer, grown feelings for this gentle giant. You were that close to blurting out that you thought he was handsome, cute even, down to the scar and replacement eye that was a result of an accident on one of his very first job sites. He had said your name with that same jovial laugh and winning smile and, jokingly, asked, "What? You gonna say I'm cute or somethin'?"

That's all it took. Just a few months later, here the two of you were, playfully bumping into one another as you entered the park hand-in-hand, making jokes and laughing together.

"No-no-no, that's not what the joke means!" you insisted, feeling the ache in your sides growing the more you laughed until you were nearly breathless. "You realize Cross is messing with you, right?"

"Yeah, 'course I do!" he replies, "But so am I! It's jus' how the two'a us are. It's a lot of fun to purposely misunderstand a joke and see how long it takes before Tech can't take it anymore. Our record was two hours. Hunter even joined in!"

"But I thought he hated it when you and Cross goofed off on your job sites."

Wrecker grins through mischievous laughter. "Naaah. Hunter goofs off on job sites just as much as us when we can get away with it, but he's more… subtle about it. Unless he wants to show off to our older brother Cody. He's a contractor and the one who suggested the job to us; so we try an' behave a little more than usual when he comes to check on how construction is going." Wrecker explains. They've been part of the crew who initially came in to renovate some very old apartment buildings here in this little, growing city, but overnight the sign that had previously said "RENOVATIONS UNDERWAY" for the first few weeks became "DEMO AND REBUILD". Now you know why; Cody's the one who made the call on that, and you wonder why the sudden change.

"Oh, huge infestation that went untreated for too long. I don't remember what Tech calls them or what they are, but Cody said it was gonna be better to scrap everything and build fresh. I ain't complaining!"

That was something you appreciated Wrecker for. He complained about very little. He was often optimistic and in high spirits. Happy to do almost anything he was asked so long as he was with his brothers and didn't have a want of food. All that manual labor makes a person hungry, so it doesn't surprise you to find him snacking on something if he's left to his own devices and the thought comes over him.

Actually, in fact, you hadn't just walked past his house on the way to the park: you briefly came inside so he could throw a few things into the cooler bag he takes to his job sites (he, Hunter and Cross bounced between at least two or three sites if Cody needed a few more hands for something on a particular day) and have a little picnic on the grass with you. You both took care to be quiet so as not to disturb his brothers. Wrecker did however bump into Crosshair in the kitchen, who took one look in the lunch bag and said "Unless you plan on drinking that kriffing disgusting lake water, I suggest you take something to drink, too." before he snatched a few slices of cold pizza from a box in the fridge and shuffled off.

Not much of a talker, Crosshair. But that's okay.

"How's this for a spot?" you ask, coming across a bench after walking roughly one half of the man-made lake. Walking and talking with Wrecker was enjoyable, the late-summer air carried by a gentle breeze across the water was cool and soothing here. Not too far from the water's edge, and you could hear some of the lake life, little frogs, croaking and singing in the reeds and lily pads from here. Wrecker nods approvingly, setting down the cooler bag. "Perfect! Here, made this for you. Sorry if it's a little smushed or if I forgot a condiment."

He offers you a brown paper bag, and inside, you find your favorite sandwich you often throw together when you need a quick bite to eat. "Aww, you made this for me? Wrecker that's so sweet of you, thank you." You bite into it with eager anticipation, and it's definitely the way you like it. "Oh Maker," you moan blissfully, chewing slowly to savor it, "that's a good sandwich." Wrecker smiles bashfully as he takes a seat beside you on the bench, unwrapping his own sandwich.

"Did I-?"

"No, not a single missing condiment." you tell him. Shyness and uncertainty turn to pride for the man beside you.

"Oh, good! I made it kinda quick-like from memory so we could get goin' without bothering my brothers." He takes a bite of his own sandwich, and allows himself to chew thoroughly before he speaks again. "I, uh, I make everyone's lunch in the mornings. Except for Tech's sometimes, he's pretty particular about what he takes to his lab."

You think back to what Tech's job is, but the proper name for it escapes you. "He works in the… preservation department at the local museum, right?"

Wrecker bobs his head as he takes another bite of his sandwich, smaller this time. "Yeah. Works in at least three labs. Real smart. Like scary smart. He'd get bored if he worked in just one lab. And because I don't remember what lab he goes to on what days, he and I agreed it'd be best for him to make his own lunches most days. Oh, I almost forgot! Here!" He reaches into the cooler bag again and pulls out one of your favorite, non-alcoholic, bottled beverages. "That's for you. Can't have a proper picnic without something to drink."

Wrecker's attention to detail, his memory of things he's learned about you only very recently, it all makes you feel giddy and warm inside that he's so incredibly attentive to your likes and dislikes. Other romantic partners, whether they had been potential or well and truly established, had not been quite so aware like Wrecker. What had taken others five months or more to remember that you did not like on your pizza, Wrecker had remembered in just five days.

Hunter had called your name from the kitchen, ready to place an order from a little place new to town called Gregor's Grub-hub and asked what toppings you liked on your pizza, apologizing for not remembering what you had taken from the assortment of pizzas the crew offered to share with you when you stopped by Wrecker's job site to return the comically oversized jacket he loaned you.

"That's okay, I remember!" Wrecker had declared from the couch as the two of you sat together, trying (and failing) to take this board game seriously. It was just so much more fun to bend the rules or try stacking all the game pieces. Whatever silly idea possessing the pair of you was swiftly entertained.

It was just so easy to have fun with Wrecker. He found joy in the little things. And he cared so deeply about his brothers. He cared so deeply about you.

You crack open the bottle, and together the two of you mock-toast to this late-night, lakeside summer picnic the pair of you took on a whim. You're so glad to be out here with him. Just the two of you in the light of the full, silver moon hung in the sky above this beautiful park, serenaded by the frogs and distant cicadas in the trees.

"Thanks Wrecker. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Wrecker laughs brightly, the sound as bubbly as the lapping waves of water against the shore, and as distinct as the ping from the phone in your pocket as your phone begins to blow up with news about the final episode of the season you originally planned to watch tonight. (Damn. Maybe the dashing rogue will pluck up the courage next season.) You can't even be mad about the spoilers.

You're enjoying this rare evening together with Wrecker far, far too much to be annoyed about that.

"Nice night for a date…" you murmur fondly, leaning into Wrecker's side as you sit on the bench and eat some of the other snack foods out of the cooler bag now that the two of you have finished your sandwiches. "... thanks for the late, lakeside picnic, Wrecker." You giggle softly when he shyly asks if you're okay with a little kiss on the cheek. He kisses the top of your head for good measure as well, emboldened by the smiles and giggles. "Yer welcome. We should do this more often." he says, looking out over the glimmering water with you.

You should do this more often. Maybe the next time you come here, you can take him here in the sunlight and come feed the waterfowl on a day that his brothers could get by without his help. Crosshair didn't need help the clambering up onto the scaffolding so he could do his job as a roofer, but he often let Wrecker help him because it eased his brother's fear of heights, or the fear that Cross was going to fall from the scaffolding again after a really nerve-wracking incident, more rather.

A strong gust of wind had ripped through the construction site before the structure had been secured against the frameworks, and his brother had lost his balance. Wrecker had been there to catch him in the nick of time.

"Maybe it gets under my skin a little that my brothers make fun of me for my fear of heights," Wrecker admitted somberly to you in private shortly after the scare. "But I'd never willingly let my brothers fall. I'll always be there to catch them… if I can."

Once the two of you have finished most of the food from the cooler bag, you diligently pack away all of your trash until you pass by another trash can. "Let's finish walking around the rest of the lake. Then let's maybe call it a night." you suggest. It's too nice a night not to. You just hope the city police don't come along and spoil the moment by suggesting that you need to leave, since park lock-up happens at 12:30. It's only midnight, and the rest of the lake won't take long to walk at a decent pace.

Common opinion is that some of the force can be overly stern, even how the chief of police is characterized as "heartless", but you've come to understand that these officers with red police cruisers (an unusual color choice) are decent men. They're just chronically overworked. You feel for them, now. They're only doing their jobs, however unpopular it might be.

Thankfully, where you'll complete your full circuit of the lake with Wrecker is not too far from one of these entrance and exit gates that are found along the wall of the gated park.

Joking and laughing with Wrecker once again puts a pep in your step, now that the two of you are comfortably full and content with the late-night meal.

Wrecker suggests walking a little closer to the water, just before you leave. Give the lake a closer look, maybe see if he can't get a picture of one of the frogs for Tech. "He could probably tell us all about 'em! Tech loves that kinda stuff… sharing what he learns with people." Wrecker says with a grin as he quickly snaps a photo of a plump frog resting on a lilypad. He's carefully crouched on the edge of the bank in order to get it. You creep down closer to the waterline so you can take his phone for him so he can use both hands to pull himself back up the slightly steep bank. The water is deep here, and you're both hoping to avoid falling in.

"Here, I got it." you offer, holding out your hand.

You slip on a slick patch of grass and mud as you collect his phone, and as luck would have it, the sandal slips off as you stumble and it falls into the lake with a splash.

Wrecker had caught you before you fell in as well. "Gotcha, cyare! Are you okay?"

"I'm f-fine," you assure him with a tiny stammer, glad you hadn't dropped his phone or fallen in. "Just lost my shoe. Thanks for catching me."

"Of course, cyare. Didn't think I'd only be there to catch just my brothers, didja?" He's teasing, of course, but the question makes you flush. No, of course you didn't think that.

Wrecker peers down into the water, trying to see if he could spot your sandal. Man, why didn't you change into something with laces? You'd thought about it and everything, but you were just so excited about spending time with Wrecker that you dashed out the door without giving it a second thought…

A car door closes in the distance. It sounds like it's from a car parked near the gate. Uh oh. What time is it?

"Wrecker, we need to go, I think the-"

He's up to his elbow in the lake water, carefully swishing his arm around while seeing if he can't find your shoe. "Just a second, I'll find your shoe and then we can go cyare." Wrecker promises, trying to settle your nerves. He's so focused on being sweet and helpful that he doesn't hear or notice the officer starting down the path.

"Wrecker, c'mon, it's okay. It's just a cheap little sandal, we really should go!"

The way Wrecker is hunched over the water on his hands and knees in the dim light of the moon, the officer mistakes the position for a starting dive and he calls out in warning. "Hey-! There's no swimming in the lake!"

Wrecker falls in with a great splash, startled. He surfaces shortly, the water up to his chest. Okay, maybe the water wasn't as deep as you thought. "I'm okay!" Wrecker splutters, coughing up lake water. "I found your sandal!"

You turn to the officer now standing on the edge of the lake, glowering down disappointedly at Wrecker. "I'm so sorry, sir," you say, "he was just trying to get my shoe and then I think you startled him an- O-oh, Officer Fox! I didn't realize it was you, I'm so sorry!" Fox didn't realize it was you, either, turns out. He speaks your name with great surprise, then takes another look at the sopping wet figure carefully climbing out of the water with your wet, muddy shoe in hand. "Wrecker?"

"Yup!"

Officer Fox removes his peaked cap and scratches his salt-and-pepper hair with a weary sigh. "... I thought the two of you were a couple of kids or something. Got a call from a "concerned citizen" about some "hooligan youth" in the park. Some busybody of an old man who's constantly inventing problems for me because he has his mind made up that I don't have enough to do…"

You grimace sympathetically. "Mr. Sheev, again?"

"That old bat's still alive?" Wrecker asks disbelievingly. No one's quite sure how old Mr. Sheev is, but he looks like he's been dodging the grim reaper longer than it should be natural.

There's a mutter from Officer Fox that sounds a lot like the word unfortunately before the cap is replaced and he has to do his job.

"C'mon… park's locking up for the night, soon. And since you're wet," he nods to Wrecker, "and you're half barefoot," Officer Fox nods to you this time, "I'll give you a lift in the cruiser."

Officer Fox takes you both back to Wrecker's place, watching the two of you from the car as you're huddled on the porch, wrestling with the ring of house keys. Darn things seem to make themselves invisible or slippery when they get the slightest inkling that you might be in a hurry to get inside.

Wrecker says he'll have to mop up the water in a second, trying and failing at threading his house key into the lock with shaky fingers. Lake water was cold and he was soaked to the bone trying to do a kind thing by retrieving your sandal for you.

Fox, the chief of police for the city, calls from the cruiser that Wrecker better get into some dry clothes soon, and not to feel bad about getting the seats wet. "Shit like this happens more than you think. I gotta ask Cody if he's the guy I gotta talk to about getting a proper walking path around the lake… as soon as I'm done with all this other kriffing paperwork. Goodnight." You help Wrecker get the key into the door and thank him for the lift. "You too, Officer Fox! Thank you again!"

As the two of you try to squeeze inside, someone knocks over the coatrack bearing three high-vis vests and a crisp lab coat. "Whoops!" Oh stars, that clatter was sure to wake someone up… It was nearly one in the morning now.

Wrecker's foot slips in the growing puddle of water, and trying to help him, or make sure that he's okay, you yourself trip over the coat rack and fall on top of him with a yelp. Once again, he breaks your fall, and tries to break the nervous tension with a corny joke after you both frantically apologize to one another.

"Guess we're a couple'a angels if we keep fallin' for one another, huh, cyar'ika?"

You can't help it. The joke is so silly and undeniably sweet coming from someone like Wrecker that if the coat rack, and then the two of you falling over and on top of one another didn't wake Wrecker's brothers, your laugh certainly would have. Four pairs of feet plod down the stairs at varying speeds, Hunter the fastest. He's fresh out of bed in nothing but a pair of red and black boxers, face wracked with confusion. Wrecker is soaking wet and smells like algae. And you're now damp after having landed on top of him. Hunter was told the two of you were just going for a walk, how the hell did his brother and his date end up getting wet?

"The kriff are you two doing on the floor?" Crosshair yawns from up the stairs.

"And why are you wet?"

You smile apologetically up at Hunter, "Wrecker fell in the lake trying to get my shoe for me. I was trying to keep his phone dry after he took a picture of a frog for Tech and-" Your eyes dart further up the stairs when you hear Tech excitedly ask "A frog?" from behind Cross, and you spot the brother who must be Echo behind him. He's a little paler and his face is gaunt compared to the others. He looks rather disoriented and anxious after you probably woke him up so unexpectedly.

"Oh… hello there; are you Echo?"

He nods timidly. "I am. And you are…?" He seems surprised to hear you know his name, but he doesn't seem to recognize you. You wait as he carefully makes his way down the stairs, one step at a time. The horrible accident Echo had suffered from was some time ago, but three of his limbs haven't quite been the same since. Minor weakness and numbness, to your memory. You waited until he was closer to put out the appropriate hand to introduce yourself with a polite smile. "Nice to meet you. Officially." Echo manages apologetically. "Sorry, guess I didn't recognize you because I've only ever heard Wrecker talk about the person he's started dating."

You smile reassuringly at Echo, and flash Wrecker a cheeky look when you hear he's been talking about you to his brothers. You're sure he would look just as flushed as you if the light from the kitchen wasn't so dim.

"I'll get a mop and clean up the water," Wrecker promises Hunter when his brother takes a look at the floor by the front door after Wrecker picks up his cooler bag and dumps all the trash into the kitchen's garbage can.

Hunter shrugs lazily. "Nah, don't bother. You two should go shower or something. I'll take care of it. Besides falling in the lake - apparently - was your walk nice?"

"Oh yeah!" Wrecker says with a giant grin that you return when you share a look. "I think the two of us might do it again soon. This time without losing any shoes."

You can only nod and laugh softly in agreement. The next time you go on one of these late-night walks with Wrecker, if this becomes a regular thing in your relationship, you are definitely going to start wearing better shoes with laces.

Note from Frost: The idea of Palpatine being a nosy cranky senior citizen who calls the police over "hooligan youths" having fun came out of nowhere but it tickled me too much not to include it lmao. (Poor Commander Fox...)

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

#frostfics #Late Lakeside Picnic #star wars #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #gender neutral reader #tbb x reader #star wars x reader #x reader #tbb wrecker #wrecker tbb #wrecker bad batch #wrecker fluff #star wars au #request fic #vithepotato

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