#he’s actually happy not to spend all day in a cage

[lovetositinsilence]

i had a thought

#luigi brings smol bowser around when he’s going to work #he’s actually happy not to spend all day in a cage #no he will never admit it #anyway very kissable nose #all the smooches for bowser #bowigi #bowuigi #super mario bros #super mario movie #luigi #bowser #fanart #my art

[freyito]

ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇꜱ ᴅᴀʏ & ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ [ᴍᴋ1]

✧ a/n: part one of my big ol valentines day posts. this one is for the mk1 boys only... unfortunately I had to remove of the boys because I genuinely cannot see them celebrating v-day... i apologize T_T!!! anyways HAPPY VALENTINES DAY :PPP <333!!!

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 1862

⎯Liu Kang

Part of Liu Kang wants to make Valentine's Day an over-the-top experience. But one of the things he’s learned over time (not just through his godhood) is that there is beauty in the simple things. Unfortunately he’s still busy, but trust, he’s got a nice little night all planned out.

A nice dinner at Madame Bo’s is arranged, accompanied by a nice, slightly extravagant bouquet, consisting of flowers from outworld, and some eucalyptus! And Liu Kang’s biggest gift to you is a book. Full of poetry. He doesn’t waste a single word within his writings, relating every single word back to you. And at the end, he ditches the poetry, a simple “I love you” written within the back of the book.

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han is sappy as HELL for Valentine’s Day. Sure, his imposing demeanor is off-putting, but he wants nothing more than to spoil his lover, shower them with gifts. He’ll act like Valentine’s Day is a silly idea, that “he could do all of those things whenever”.

But, when Valentine’s Day rolls around, he surprises you with breakfast in bed. It’s… quite decadent. But hey, who can say no to a home cooked meal? Throughout the day he peppers you with all sorts of gifts, and refuses to say that it’s for Valentine’s Day when you ask. Flowers, chocolates, and other miscellaneous items. Bi-Han isn’t afraid to show off his wealth, especially when he can buy you all the gifts you could possibly want. Despite this, at the end of the day, he chooses to settle with you on the bed, and hold you close. He whispers all the things he loves about you and how happy you’ve made him. In the end, he could care less for grand gestures, settling for words instead.

⎯ Kuai Liang

Nothing is wrong with a little simplicity on Kuai Liang’s end. Valentine’s Day isn’t the biggest thing to him, however he does like to make it special. He does his best to spend time with you whenever, but especially so on Valentine’s Day. Building the Shirai Ryu has him busy, running all around with barely any free-time.

But, Kuai has somehow escaped his work load for the day. He greets with you a simple bouquet, with pink tulips, baby’s breath, and pink roses. Plus some yellow tulips thrown in (because it’s close enough to his favorite colors). Paired with a nice little card. He doesn’t need to make his love some sort of big show– hell, he doesn’t need a day for it. He lets you know every day how much you mean to him, and he shows it, as well. Who needs just a day to reinforce that?

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny’s corny. He goes above and beyond for you on Valentine’s Day. He gets all the usual stuff, a horribly luxurious bouquet, like 7 boxes of chocolate (or a different candy if you don’t like it), and like seventeen cards worth of how much he loves you. Good god, if he could, he’d probably change his license plate to YOUR NAME for V-day if he could. Granted, every holiday with him is beyond your expectation.

And of course, the main show is in the evening. After a rather extravagant dinner, he brings you home to be greeted with a trail of rose petals leading towards the bedroom. Cage has got the biggest, goofiest smile on his face when you follow it. He’s got the lights dimmed perfectly, the petals on the bed are shaped like a heart, and in the middle of it, a little tray with two glasses and a bottle of sparkling cider. He wanted to make a grandiose gesture…. and don’t be surprised if he gets down on one knee, either.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Kenshi is a sucker for V-day, actually. He won’t miss any opportunity to spoil you and shower you with his love, in fact, he does his best to get Valentine’s day off. Regardless of how much he loves the holiday, he sticks to simplicity. He likes to make it a beautiful event, it starts at 12 am for him and ends at 11:59 pm. He wants to make the day just as wonderful for you as he plans.

It starts with a voice message in the morning. A nice little good morning, followed by him telling you to dress your best and that he’ll pick you up around 11am. Why isn’t he there to say that in person? He’s already out, looking for the best bouquet he can find. He refuses to do it any time before, because he wants them to be as fresh as possible. And when he finally picks you up, you’re in for a beautiful night out, with a quaint dinner, and some sappy and romantic dancing by the end of the night. Kenshi gives you the royalty treatment (although, he treats you as such every day), he leaves no room for question of his love.

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao is a bit of a mess when it comes to Valentine’s Day. He’s always got such big plans, something magnificent, bigger than the world itself. It’s not that he can’t, it’s that he doesn’t have enough time. But, just when he freaks out about disappointing you, he reminds himself just how much he loves you. And perhaps there’s no need for a big display.

So, he shows up at your door with a simple bouquet of roses, and a smile on his face. He’s saved all the sappy words he can spill to you for a card, he’s pestered Madam Bo to keep a table open just for you two tonight. And when he’s met with your smile, he realizes it was all worth it. And… for once, he’s totally okay with paying! Every time you look at him, every time you laugh, every little thing you do, it makes him happy.

⎯ Raiden

Raiden’s V-Day “celebration” is pretty quaint. It isn’t flashy, it isn’t anything big. But it’s you and him, and that’s exactly how he likes it. Valentine’s Day isn’t the biggest thing for him, he thinks he shows his love for you everyday, and that’s enough. But regardless, he’ll celebrate with you, especially if you want him to.

He presents a small bouquet of sunflowers to you, before taking you out for a nice little picnic. It’s surprising how he was able to find such a secluded spot, something that feels like it’s just you two… which it is. That’s all he needs, though. To sit there, under the clouds, with you in his arms. Raiden plays with your hair, whispering every little thing he loves about you (like he does all the time), sprinkling in ‘i love you’s and much more in between sweet nothings.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Good god, does Tomas splurge on Valentine’s Day. He buys a bunch of stuffed animals– teddy bears specifically– like a month in advance. He tries to be subtle about it, but he’s got a horrible poker face when it comes to you. He’s all smiles and blushes whenever V-Day is even brought up, because he finds it so hard not to spill what he has in store for you. It’s a secret, dammit, and you’re normally the person he tells everything to!

And when the day comes, he’s practically skipping to your door. He’s got a big ol’ teddy bear in his arms, one of the ones that’s easily the length of your bed. This one will join the massive hoard of stuffed animals Tomas has gotten you. Other than the massive teddy bear, he takes you out for a nice little dinner, something cozy and warm. And when the night is over, he’s dragging his feet, cause he doesn’t want V-Day to end.

⎯ Syzoth

The idea of Valentine’s Day is lost to Syzoth. There’s not really an equivalent for Zatterans (and he’s not necessarily interested in Outworld's equivalent), but all you need to do is explain it to him and he’s got a couple of ideas in mind. He doesn’t have the strongest grip on the concept, to him it’s more of like ‘an even fancier date all day’– in his words.

He’s managed to make an impressive bouquet, with all sorts of flowers that you haven’t even seen in Outworld before. He’s quite proud of himself, but the bouquet isn’t the main part. It’s stargazing. He’ll spend time with you throughout the day, however, he can’t wait for the evening. He’s not so sure on entering Sun Do, so most of the day is essentially stalking through the woods. Not that it’s bad, it’s quite peaceful, actually. Knowing it truly is just you and him, it’s just enough.

⎯ General Shao

Like the other Outworlders, Valentine’s Day isn’t something Shao’s heard of. But when you explain it to him, it clicks. He’s not necessarily the most romantic, or free to indulge in the holiday. But he won’t pass up a good opportunity to spoil and pamper his lover. He kinda just gives you a handful of money and tells you to get something you like…

But he doesn’t just want to brush you off. That’s not what he’s doing. Safe to say, he has a hard time expressing affection considering his lifestyle and his title. And, unfortunately, being a general doesn’t exactly mean he gets that many days off. He makes it up to you in the evening, when he can finally squeeze in free time. It’s not extravagant, but it’s something. Nothing’s wrong with a little dancing, right? Especially under the stars?

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is all for it. In fact, he beats you to the punch. He’s a day early, but it’s kind of endearing to see him interested in Earthrealm traditions. Or perhaps there are ulterior motives… It’s hard to tell. Regardless, he’s super enthusiastic, and excited to share this day with you.

He’s gotten every little thing he’s heard about, a bouquet, a card, some candies. It’s odd seeing him essentially throw gifts at you, but he does really enjoy spending money. He overdoes every little gesture for you, dramatically opening the door, professing his love to you like every 3 minutes, the whole thing.

⎯ Reiko

The mention of V-Day comes up in passing, it’s not something you really talked to Reiko about. Initially, he doesn’t care. It’s another Earthrealm holiday that doesn’t matter that much to him. But when he hears you talk about all the gift giving and the fancy dates people take their significant others, he’s a little bit intrigued. Mainly because you seem so enthusiastic about it. And he wants to show off just how good of a partner he is.

He doesn’t make it some big show, he keeps it pretty simple. A couple flowers and a nice little night out in the markets. Sure, he could do more, but it’s his first Valentine’s Day, he’s doing great. He buys you anything you look at, no matter how small it is. Reiko would buy you dinner, too, but you two have pretty much eaten every little snack that was being sold at the market. At the end of the day, he doesn’t have the best grip on V-Day, but each year he does his best to make it better.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

#⁺◟freyito #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #mk x reader #liu kang x reader #bi-han x reader #sub zero x reader #kuai liang x reader #scorpion x reader #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #kung lao x reader #raiden x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #syzoth x reader #reptile x reader #general shao x reader #shang tsung x reader #reiko x reader

[narumi-gens]

yandere!morax/zhongli x adeptus gn!reader note: takes place in the aftermath of the archon war

morax finds you where he always does on the few occasions he allows you time to yourself, kneeling in the garden with your hands folded in your lap and your head respectfully tilted down. it's been only a few decades since he took you for his own, a self-reward of sorts for a still freshly won war.

and what are a few decades to the immortal?

he supposes you spend so much time here because the gardens are so wide and open that they make the high, stone walls that keep you caged within his grasp seem slightly smaller by perspective.

there's a soft, spring breeze in the air, which picks up for just a moment as he chooses to sit on the grass directly in front of you with his legs crossed before him and his wrists casually resting on his knees.

your head remains down and your eyes stay closed, choosing not to acknowledge his presence.

"have you not grown bored after spending so much time alone with nothing but your thoughts?" his deep voice and teasing tone shatter the garden's tranquility, yet still you refuse to look at him. "I'm happy to provide you with whatever book you would like. all you need to do is ask."

"my prayers keep me occupied."

it's a dangerous admission on your part. as liyue's archon, he hears every prayer his people make yet he's never once heard yours. which means that your prayers aren't to him.

but he'll indulge you and play your game – for now at least.

"what do you pray for?"

"for liberation." your answer isn't a surprise. what else could you pray for?

"oh? and to whom do you pray?"

finally, you open your eyes and lift your chin to meet his gaze. there's a hardness in them that reminds him of the jewels the people of liyue put so much time and effort into mining. even the warm, gentle wind and the smell of blooming flowers it brings are incapable of softening your demeanor.

"the archons."

any trace of amusement immediately vanishes as his eyes flash dangerously. his pupils morph into the slits of his true, draconic form.

"I am your archon."

he doesn't mention the contract you signed during the archon war in concert with the other adepti, agreeing to protect liyue. he doesn't need to.

although with your powers now sealed away through his own means, there's little protection that you would be able to provide should you ever actually be called upon to do so. the only part of the contract that still pertains to you as you are now, as he's made you now, is the provision accepting morax as liyue's archon.

it's a provision that he worded carefully in the specific contract he offered you, where you not only accepted him as the prime of adepti, but also swore eternal subservience to him as part of it.

"you are one archon," you remind him coldly, raising an eyebrow in challenge, daring him to contradict what is fact. "one of seven."

he offers you a patronizing smile in return.

"tell me, then. which of the remaining six do you think would be foolish enough to answer you?"

he only decides to humor you because he knows the answer is none of them. no archon would risk upsetting the peaceful but precarious balance they had just spent centuries, more than a millennium, fighting for.

and to break this unspoken contract amongst the seven in order to steal his greatest treasure right out from under him wouldn't just be foolish. it would be reckless.

but then his sight turns a pure, blood red that he hasn't experienced since the final days of the archon war. his fingers begin to elongate as they transform into claws. his horns make a grotesque cracking sound as they emerge from his skull. his teeth sharpen as he bares his fangs openly.

because a sudden divine energy has appeared between you and you open your clasped hands to reveal a glowing, teal-colored gem bearing a pair of spread wings.

"the god of freedom, it would seem."

#tumblr is really making me work in order to post my first genshin fic #tumblr is a genshin gatekeeper! #tw yandere #zhongli x reader #morax x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #genshin #genshin impact #mel writes #yandere zhongli

[floatyflowers]

Charlie's Mother|| Dark! Willy Wonka x Reader

You were happy with your simple life.

It is way better then your past life with your old lover

However, when your son, Charlie, returned home with a golden ticket to spend one day at Wonka's chocolate factory, you almost fainted.

As Willy Wonka used to be your 'old lover'

The same man who killed your friends out of 'jealousy' and tried to cage you until you ran away.

"Honey, I think it is better not to go"

"But mom, I want to go! It's my only chance, please"

Weak against your son's pleading, you decided to agree but you had to go with him.

You only want to protect your son.

When you finally arrived to the factory with Charlie, and saw Willy, your heart dropped to your stomach in fear.

But Willy's heart only raced with excitement, upon finally seeing his obsession, after so many years.

He already decided that Charlie is the winner because you are the child's mother.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you, Ms.(L/n)"

"Actually, it is Mrs. Bucket now"

Willy refuses to believe that Charlie is the son of another man, he deludes himself to believe that the boy is his son instead.

Even though, it is impossible as you haven't spoken to Willy in thirteen years and Charlie is eleven.

The whole tour you were shaken up by what happens to the children and their parents.

You felt like you were walking through a trap with your son.

Even though the children were brats, yet they didn't deserve to die.

You don't even know how your son is okay with all that chaos.

After the day is over, you try to take Charlie and leave but Willy announces him as the winner.

And therefore, you and your son are not allowed to leave.

Ever.

#willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #reader insert #tw: toxic relationships #charlie bucket

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

HAZBIN CHARACTERS IF YOU GOT A CAT

This is a follow up to my aninal lover post.

Alastor

Confused as to where you got an actual cat in Hell.

At least it's not a dog.

Will say he doesn't like cats and complain about it getting fur everywhere but constantly has the cat near him while he's boradcasting, idly petting it.

If the cat is a menace and knocks things over a lot, especially while he's broadcasting he's using his shadows to restrain it or throw it out.

He literally makes a shadow cage for it sometimes when it has zoomies and attacks his feet.

Is annoyed with you for laughing and calling it "baby jail".

The cat better be useful and actually hunt the pests around the hotel.

He's feeding it flesh as a treat guys. Just accept it.

Charlie

OMG YOU HAVE A CAT!!! AN ACTUAL CAT!

She wants your cat and Kiki to be best friends.

Buys all of the cat toys. Expensive multi level cat trees. She cooks for it.

If it's not a cuddler, she's willing to suffer dozens of scratches just to hold it.

Has dozens of nicknames for your cat and spoils it all the time with treats.

Vox

Prefers dogs probably, but won't complain about the cat because it's more practical for people who are as busy as you all are.

He's mildly annoyed by all the cat hair everywhere, especially if it gets in his wiring or joints. Is also annoyed because he generates heat and hums from his mechanical parts, so the little shit literally won't leave him alone. It's hard to be an intimidating Overlord when there's a ball of floof on your lap/chest, and it purrs really loud to match your humming.

He swears he doesn't enjoy it, and you can hear him scolding the cat like it's a child whenever it does something, it shouldn't. Also has a kennel/cat carrier made to put the child, he means cat, in timeout. Threatens to feed it to his sharks while he watches it bap the tank glass for hours.

Buys it little ties and suits with his colors and logo on it since the damn thing wants to be with him at all times. If the child (cat) wants to come to meetings it's gonna dress the part. The cat is literally your child with him he just refuses to acknowledge it.

Valentino

Let's go with him not being the type of guy to shoot a pet for being annoying.

At first, Valentino doesn't like it because he just isn't an animal person. Like I said before he likes the idea of them more than actually having one. He does get annoyed with cat hair on everything and the little shit knocking things over.

However, let's say this cat is very sweet and snuggly. I think overtime he'd get used to it and begin to enjoy petting it and snuggling it. Maybe you, him, and the cat, all cuddled up to watch a movie. It helps him relax, especially if the cat is purring. He's also the type to dress it up and take photos with it.

Overall, I definitely think it's still more your pet than his, but he doesn’t hate it, and it does help him a lot, and he enjoys seeing you happy.

Lucifer

Cat dad. Immediately commits to that being your first child together. Like Charlie he will suffer unholy amounts of scratches to pet and cuddle it. Buys it fancy clothes and collars. Cooks homemade food for it. That's how I view it going down no matter where or how you acquired the cat.

However,

Honestly, he's probably the only one where you suggest outright getting a pet and pick out the cat together. You didn't even know an actual normal cat was an option for a pet in Hell, but he surprises you by taking you to some fancy ass place where high ranking demons have collected things from the mortal world and sell them. Running an actual high class, well documented, and strictly maintained cat breeding business, is a cat demon, and you two spend days meeting different litters of kittens and interacting with them in various scenarios to get a feel for their personality.

You guys definitely get a snuggler, because Lucifer really needs as much extra love as he can get. He excitedly tells Charlie she and Kiki are big siblings now and posts dozens of pictures on day one of owning it. You guys have a family portrait with the cat, Charlie, Vaggie, Razzle, and Kiki.

Refers to it as his child when speaking and calls himself dad and you mom (regardless of gender. You're mom)

Alternatively, he's mom and you're the father. He thinks gender norms are bullshit anyway. He can be a mom, he can shapeshift. (Also ya know, he apparently birthed Charlie).

Charlie loves her new feline sibling and brings Kiki and Razzle over to play all the time. It helps her spend more time with her dad too.

Angel Dust

He's a pet mom too! Will bring Fat Nuggets with him to play with your cat.

You guys dress them up and do photo shoots with your cats. Angel has an entire social media account now dedicated just to your cat and Fat Nuggets and eventually the other Hotel Pets.

He likes that both your cat and Nuggets can tell when he's had a bad day, and therefore you can tell. He likes that you can just sit with him in quiet solidarity, or play music, or a podcast, or just talk shit to distract him. He loves Cherri, but her method of getting through stuff is kind of exhausting for him sometimes.

Your voice, a kitty purring (if only it was Husk), Nuggets nuzzling his floof, that's kind of all he needs right now.

Husk

He and the cat just stare at each other, sometimes for hours, just staring. The cat will make little chirps, and he'll do it back if he's not thinking about it.

If the cat hisses at him he hisses back.

Skippity baps. The cat started it, he swears, and he just bapped it back.

Both of them high and catnip with zoomies. So much shit gets knocked down. Alastor strictly forbids Husk to ever get near the stuff again afterwards.

Alternatively, he, Kiki, and your cat, sprawled in a patch of sunlight, and all purring as they doze.

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #vox x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡

࿏ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

࿏ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐀𝐔 (𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫), 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐬/𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔; 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, (𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞) 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

࿏ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

࿏ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫...

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Usually the walk from his own apartment to yours isn't longer than a minute, which comes with the benefit of living on the exact opposite side of the hallway, yet this time it feels like it's taking him actual hours to get to your door.

Jake's heart is pounding against his rib cage with such vigour, he's actually convinced it's skipping two beats at a time.

Ever since you suggested going out for lunch together as a way of him repaying you for everything you've done for them so far, Jaeyun simply hasn't stopped thinking about it.

To be fair, there have been very few moments where you didn't spend a good amount of time in his thoughts, which is why he's so confused as to why this friendly lunch is getting to him the way it is.

He knows it's not a date.

But – as ridiculous as it may sound – he can't stop himself from pretending it to be one.

It's definitely wishful thinking but not something he's gonna take away from himself after forcing himself to stay away from you as a eesult of his own misconceptions.

At the end of the day the young parent is just happy to have you to himself for a little while, even if it's just in a friendship way. Jaeyun enjoys your company, likes the sound of your voice and the way you get all excited when you're telling a random story. He could actually spend hours just listening to you and he knows he wouldn't ever grow bored or get distracted.

There's definitely a tiny bit of hope in the back of his head, which makes all of this a little more bearable and distracts him from your actual lack of interest in something more than being his friend and neighbor.

And just as usual, Jake seems so lost in his thoughts about you, he barely realises he's made it to your door after what felt like an eternity and before his brain can process his body's movement, he gently knocks on your door.

To his surprise, you don't miss a single beat to swing the door open and reveal yourself to his hungry eyes, which easily manages to overwhelm him in the best way possible.

Jake shyly lets his eyes roam your face first, takes a quick look down your body to take in the sight of your cute outfit which he thought he had prepared himself for, only to realise he miserably failed that attempt.

"Hey", you say and shoot him a soft smile and adjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for the older Sim brother to basically just do something.

"You're so pretty", he suddenly breathes and lets his eyes find yours again, only for his face to heat up the moment his brain processes what had just happened.

"Oh, my God", this time his voice is a whisper as the realisation of his compliment brutally hits him.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your tummy jump in excitement in response to his words and the sweet look of adoration in his puppy eyes, however you're quick ti compose yourself in fear of Jaeyun reading your body language.

You don't stop yourself from genuinely enjoying his reaction but you're still too afraid to make things too obvious, not knowing if your own wishful thinking is the reason behind your interpretation of anything he does.

Maybe he's just being nice and you're reading too much into things, so to save yourself from any sort of heartbreak, you decide to keep your excitement to yourself.

"Thank you, Jae", is the only thing you say in response before you move to stand next to him in front of your door to close and lock it behind you.

You wait a good minute for him to react to your words only for Jake to let out a loud sigh followed by a shy "sorry" as he follows you to the elevator.

It doesn't take long for it to arrive at your floor yet the tension between the two of you seems to double in thickness in those few moments and this is where you realise that this is actually the first time you're alone with him.

And as exciting it is, you can't help but get awkward at the silence between the two of you.

You wordlessly step into the elevator and calmly watch the doors close, which is the moment you decide to break the ice.

"This one time in elementary school I threw up when a boy told me he wanted to hold my hand because he was known for not washing his hands after using the bathroom", you casually tell him, leaning against the cold wall of the elevator as you subtly take in how good he looks in his outfit.

His dark hair is slicked back, whereas a single strand has made its way out and is perfectly falling into his forehead.

You calmly watch the way Jake runs one of his pretty hands through his thick hair and starts chuckling once he finally lets go of the tension in his body.

You're quick to join in on his laughter since you simply can'f stop yourself from smiling anyway.

"That's as sad as it is amusing, little man probably just wanted some attention", Jaeyun laughs, crosses his arms over his chest and finally meets your gaze again, yet this time you physically can't stop yourself from getting flustered.

You've never seen a man as attractive as Sim Jaeyun; the way he carries and presents himself, his bright smile, his pretty eyes and those god forsaken lips. Every time his tongue runs over the soft flesh, you feel yourself falling a little bit further into your delusional thoughts.

"Well, I was definitely not the one to give him that", you add with a big smile and wait for Jake to just please speak some more, as his voice never fails to calm you down.

As the two of you leave your apartment building, Jake doesn't really say much and you can't really tell if it's because he feels uncomfortable or because he simply doesn't know what to say.

For some reason, however, you're determined to find out more about the older brother and try to think of topics to question him about.

"Tell me about your life in Australia", you ask calmly and look up at him, your breath hitches in your throat the second you're met with his soft gaze and you feel a wave of heat rush through your veins.

Jaeyun seems slightly overwhelmed by your request, yet you can tell how excited it's gotten him from the way his lips stretch into a smile.

And that's when he starts talking about how he felt moving from Southkorea to Australia at the age of nine, the one time in middle school when he cried because of how much he missed the authentic food from his home country and his relationship to his parents, who never once regretted their choice to move away.

He doesn't stop talking until the two of you sit down at one of your favorite little places to eat lunch at, yet quickly continuing once the waiter has taken your orders.

To your genuine surprise, the young man isn't hesitant to talk about his parents, actually seems to find comfort and happiness in their memories, as he goes on to talk about his relationship to each of them before the conversation falls to the topic of Seyun.

"You can probably imagine how shocked my parents were when they found out about the pregnancy", he chuckles and takes a sip from his drink, nervously playing with his necklace, "but despite the first initial shock, we were all so excited to finally meet him. My mom kept talking about how she can't wait to...do all the things she's done with us with Seyun."

All of a sudden the air thickens again and you're left with the bit of oxygen in your lungs, as the knot in your throat makes the whole process of breathing even harder. You wordlessly watch Jake shift his gaze outside the big window you two were sitting at, losing himself in a thought unknown to you, until he lets out a soft sigh and returns back to the conversation.

"I'm sorry", he begins and leaves you confused, "I don't mean to bring the mood down whenever I talk about my parents. It's just a little difficult for me to not get sad mid-sentence."

As your brain processes his words, your eyes widen, brows shoot up and quickly start shaking your head to let him know your response before actually using your words.

The urge to make him feel as safe and comfortable as he is doing with you suddenly overwhelms you and without missing a beat, you reach the table and gently place your hand over his.

"Please don't ever apologize for talking about your parents", you begin and look at him with genuineness gleaming in your eyes, "it means a lot to me that you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about them. I can't even imagine the heartbreak you're still experiencing, and since I can't really do anything to help, I'm more than glad to listen. You don't bring the mood down at all, Jaeyun, you could never."

You have no idea how much time passes where he just looks at you with his big puppy eyes, usually so sharp features completely softened and his plump bottom lip firmly tugged between his teeth as he so obviously tries to stop himself from tearing up.

Jaeyun feels a huge burden being lifted from his shoulders as soon as your words reach his brain and he can't help but wrap his fingers around your oretty hand and slightly tightening his grip.

"Thank you so much, Y/N", he whispers and shoots you a tiny smile, "you have no idea what this means to me. You always just...know what to say to make me calm down."

In that particular moment the whole world comes to a stop and it's only the two of you, hidden behind a bubble of comfort and security.

And it's those words which make you realise that your silly little crush has started turning into something a lot more and despite the jolt of fear hitting your chest, you push every doubt and worry into the very back of your head and focus on him, and him only.

Only when the waiter places your orders on the table do you let go of his hand and instantly feel a certain type of coldness hit you, yet the conversation continues just as before.

You talk about growing up in the suburbs of Busan, why you decided to move to Seoul once you hit eighteen and even tell him about your family. Jaeyun never once interrupts you, calmly listens and munches on his little sandwich and almost chokes when you randomly start telling him a few of your rather embarrassing stories.

To say the two of you gain a lot of stares from the people around you would be an understatement but you can't find it in you to actually care, too focused on the handsome man in front of you.

You don't even realise how time passes by until Jaeyun points it out and the two of you get going to pick Seyun up from his daycare.

Every now and then Jaeyun shyly places his hand on your lower back to help you pass other people without bumping into them, his gentle touches easily driving you crazy and every time his hand grazes your as the two of yoj walk next to each other, you can barely resist the urge to reach for him.

"Yunie's gonna be over the moon when he sees you", Jake chuckles and holds the door to the daycare open for you before he quickly follows you inside and subconsciously lets his hand find its way to your back again.

"Honestly I'm just as excited", you reply and try your best to hide how flustered you are from the jolts of heat his touches send through your body each time.

Jaeyun doesn't even realise he's doing it and painfully unaware of your reactions, yet you're actually happy about it. You don't want him to stop but you also don't want him to take notice of your current emotional state.

As soon as the two of you come to stand at the entrance, four young teachers come out of the playrooms, huge smiles lingering on their faces as they politely greet you both.

"I hope everything went well today", Jaeyun says calmly and shoots the teachers a smile back before he suddenly reaches for your hand and actually intertwines your fingers with his.

You almost audibly gasp in reaction yet manage to remain completely silent to your own surprise.

Jaeyun has never failed to leave you speechless, but this is definitely nothing you could have ever expected.

Of course you don't move out of his touch, too mesmerized by just how good and right it feels to hold his hand. His rings are cold against your hot skin and you can't help but think of all the other places on your body you want him to touch.

"Seyun did really good today, Sir", one of the teachers replies and for others it might be subtle yet you clearly see the way her smile drops as soon as she discovers your hands.

"He ate his lunch and didn't wake up during nap time the way he usually does, kept talking about pick up time and told us about how his Noona's gonna be there too today", the other teachers takes over and her smile seems actually genuine, so you quickly shoot her one back, chuckling at the thought of your little friend's excitement.

"That's great", Jaeyun says and looks at you, which is when you notice the light brush tinting the appless of his cheeks in the sweetest shades of pink and letting you know how much this is effecting him as well.

"This is Y/N", he suddenly begins and introduces you to the teachers, "the Noona Yunie talked about and uhm – my girlfriend."

The four young women start nodding and greeting you yet again, whereas your brain is way too fogged up from the sound of Jaeyun's words saying the words you've been too aftaid to even think of. You know he's just pretending but for now you stop yourself from the realisation.

Unfortunately destiny won't let you enjoy this for too long as Seyun's loud call to the both of you fills the daycare and Jake lets go of your hand to scrounge down to be on eyelevel with his brother.

The younger one is quick to throw his arms around the neck of the young parent, giggling and squeaking in excitement before he looks up at you with nothing but pure happiness in his pretty eyes.

"You actually came, Noona!" His cheer warms your heart in the most perfect way possible and without missing a beat you pull him into your arms and join in on his chuckles.

"Of course, handsome", you smile and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before you push his messy curls out of his face and love the way he moves further into your touch, "I wouldn't miss this opportunity in any lifetime!"

You hear Jaeyun talking to the teachers as you help Seyun to put his jacket on and then say your goodbyes to everyone before the three of you leave the daycare again.

Just as promised the night prior, Jaeyun stops at a random food stand to get his brother some rice cakes on a stick with his favorite sauce as well as a candied apple and some ice cream as you head to the playground to make the most of the nice weather.

"I'm happy", Seyun suddenly says when you come to sit down at the bench closest to the swings where Jake's been busy pushing his younger brother.

"This is the best day ever", he then adds and chuckles at you, just to turn to his Hyung and mumble the sweetest "thank you, Yunie Hyung, you're the best."

And for a short moment you can actually see this being the future you've never dared to imagine and when your gaze meets Jaeyun's, it feels like he's actually thinking the exact same thing as you, and again, nothing but shy glances are being exchanged because words wouldn't do this moment justice.

Taglist: @writingmochi @raikea10 @moonlighthoon @ajayke-reads @bldelaine @rikisly @enhaz1 @ineedsomezzz @ikeu4life @theskzvibe @kpoprhia @jayzdaze @a-l-i-y-a @catnoirsbitch05 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @end0rchans @ddazed-lhs @sunflowerbebe07 @heeverseblog @voidbeomgyu @heerinnie @vanillabeanwaffle @mimikittysblog @l0vee-l3tters @teawithbucky

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#enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #jake sim #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun social media au #jake sim smut #enhypen smut #enhypen #sim jaeyun

[kyojurismo]

— FALLING ASLEEP ON THEM

# izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo & shoto todoroki

tags : fem!reader, fluff, early stage of the relationship, not proofread of course.

a/n : hello hello !! first of all, i was more comfortable in writing this for fem!reader but if you guys want a male reader version just lemme know !! <3 second, i decided to keep it in the high school period basically for the sake of the plot >_< lol. since i just started writing for mha please lemme know what you think 🥺 it would help a lot. enjoy and make sure to stay hydrated please! ps. of course i had to ignore the other stuff into my inbox to post about mha — i apologise.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

izuku adores spending his time with you, would it be cuddling, studying together, cooking, going for a walk, sleeping . . . yeah, he likes when you fall asleep holding his hand while sitting beside him.

he is studying quietly as you simply sit beside him on his bed. it is around 11 pm and you couldn’t help feeling tired after a full day working on a school project with tsuyu and ochaco. you lean on his shoulder without noticing as your eyes start feeling heavier as time passes by.

izuku doesn’t notice at first, too deep into his english textbook, but then you cling to his arm in your sleep and sigh softly, peacefully sleeping on him. he can’t help but blush as his heart beats so fast against his rib cage he’s scared you might hear it and wake up.

“zuku…” you whisper softly in your sleep, your expression relaxed and you look comfortable in that position somehow. izuku tries to not move much, as his cheeks keep burning hot from embarrassment, his eyes barely focusing on the pages as he gets lost in the feeling of having you this close to him. it is the first time something like this happened, so he feels genuinely happy and excited about it.

KATSUKI BAKUGO

“no way! look who’s sitting there,” eijiro walks in on you and bakugo spending some alone time on the couch in the living area of the dorm, followed by denki of course. katsuki rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“you two are having fun, heh?” denki points at you sitting on katsuki’s lap, your legs resting on either side of his as he keeps one of his hand on your back. at first, he just thinks you’re quietly hugging him because you haven’t seen each others properly for a couple of days, but then he realises you’re actually sleeping with your face buried into his neck as your hands hold his shoulders.

“shut your mouth,” he barks, his tone a bit lower than usual. they sit down on the nearby couch and proceed in getting lost in one of their casual conversations as katsuki caresses your back slowly, feeling your body close to him.

his cheeks are a bit red now, as it is the first time you fall asleep on him. he clearly isn’t used to something like this. “hey, [y/n]!” denki calls you and bakugo starts fuming on the spot, sending him a death stare. “leave her alone. she’s sleeping, dunce face,” he rolls his eyes, trying to keep his voice low as to not disturb you as you cling to him in your sleep.

when the two finally leave you alone, katsuki turns his head and kisses your temple — making sure none of them is watching, of course.

SHOTO TODOROKI

shoto is reading while you’re listening to a playlist kyoka recommended. she’s great when it comes to music ( duh ) so you trusted her enough to give it a chance.

at some point, you slowly move to rest your head on shoto’s legs and he glances down at you, a bit surprised by the action. you keep your eyes closed and relax as you listen to the music, shoto reluctantly moves his hand to caress your shoulder and play with your hair while going back to reading.

of course you would end up asleep. shoto puts the book down and sighs, then looks down at you and realise that you’re sleeping. he gently takes off your earphones and stops the music, then looks at you for a couple of seconds.

“you’re very beautiful,” his voice is soft, to not disturb you. he doesn’t mind sitting like that if that means you can be close for a while.

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

#📂 — writing !! #izuku midoriya x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #izuku midoriya imagine #izuku midoriya fanfic #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo fanfic #shoto todoroki imagine #shoto todoroki fanfic #mha izuku #mha katsuki #mha shoto #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic

[lincolndjarin]

fine art

javi gutierrez x moviestar!reader - installment #1 of sparrow's spectacles

main masterlist - other spectacles - kofi

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he'd do anything to have meet you.

word count : 3.9k

warnings, tags : dead dove do not eat, !! dark fic !! mdni 18+, noncon, stalker!javi, kidnapping, capture, stockholm syndrome, m&f masturbation, sex toys, briefly mentioned periods, exhibitionism, voyurism, so much internal thought processing regarding readers situation, briefly referenced suicide, reader is undescribed other than briefly being mentioned as young in her acting career, in my head she's late twenties, probs other tags i missed sorry. tldr: you have spent so much time with javi against your will that you unwillingly start fantasizing about him and give in to destructive urges in an attempt to escape him, everything is bad here.

a/n : is this stupid and probably bad? who knows, i have a terrible sense of self judgement lately so i'm just gonna post this and hope it's good. also can you tell that i blatantly stole the set from You LMAO. anyhow this is the first installment of my little 'horror' series. but it's less horror and more just odd little stories i wanted to write tbh

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

On days where you’re feeling particularly bored you list the things you can see. Unfortunately for you, your surroundings rarely change. Of course you could change that, if you asked him for something he’d give it to you, anything you wanted. Unless of course it was something he thought you could hurt yourself with or contact the outside world with. 

You didn’t often ask. 

Whenever you can have a conversation with him he always says the same thing. 

“If you stopped being so stubborn you might actually be happy.” 

“I would do anything for you.” “Then let me out.” “Anything but that.” 

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. It isn’t an actual cage, it isn’t so bad.” 

So you don’t talk to him unless you have to. 

But some days you’re just so painfully, agonizingly, bored and you can’t help yourself. So you scream at him, or you pound on the unyielding plexiglass, or you hold your hand up against it, hoping he’ll touch the other side and you can briefly imagine yourself having physical contact with another human being. 

Sometimes you’ll even play his games. 

You’ll read the scripts he slides through the small square opening in the cage that can’t be more than a foot wide, and act out scenes with him simply because it gives you something to do and for fucks sake you’re desperate for something to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in him, if it wasn’t so easy you’d probably let yourself do it more often, thankfully, it’s so fucking scary. If you spend too much time in the box you’re worried that eventually you’ll forget that you aren’t a doll and you'll grow to like your box. So you do your damndest to maintain a wall between the two of you, but when that wall is glass it is destined to break eventually. So you scream and you fight until you get tired, and then you let the walls down as you rest, before returning to your struggle. And everytime you let the walls down they take longer to put back up. 

At the end of the day it never matters how you treat him, he loves you all the same. 

Even on days where you scream your throat raw and throw your furniture against the walls, if you ask him to get you takeout from your favorite restaurant, or watch a movie with you, he always will. You asked him about it once. Why didn't he just make you do what he wanted? Why didn’t he just make you obey? He had looked genuinely offended, as if he couldn’t believe you thought him capable of such a thing. 

And he told you that he loved you.

More than anything. 

That you were his most prized possession. 

That he would never do anything to hurt you, it would be like if he were angry and he threw a priceless vase, the only person it would hurt is himself. 

You had nodded as if he was making any sense and you’d turned back to the movie he’d picked out. 

You were a vase. 

You were a collectible. 

A priceless, collectable. He kept you in perfect condition and never took you out of the box. Not even to play with you himself. A small, rather demented part of you, is starting to wish that he would. Of course you don’t want him to force himself upon you, you aren’t that far gone. (Yet.) But it’s been so long since you’ve touched another person. You would give your left arm just to be held. If your calendar serves you well, it’s been just over two years since you last saw someone who wasn’t Javi. 

And Javi wouldn’t touch you. 

Not ever. You were too perfect to be defiled in such a way. He would sometimes hold his hand against the glass when you held up your own, he even kissed you through it once. (Although it had been rather awkward and neither one of you ever talked about it again.) But he never touched you. 

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d met Javi in a social setting. He is rather handsome, and though you hate to admit it, when he isn’t leering he’s almost charming. 

Almost.

Everyday you slip further into the fantasy where Javi does something to break up the monotony. Is that his goal? To make you so desperate for human connection that you eventually snap and beg him to touch you? You shudder as you wonder how long that would take. After the first year you stopped wondering what would happen when he got bored of you. You know deep down that that will never happen. If anything his devotion  for you only continues to grow with each passing day. If it’s possible he probably loves you more now then he did at the start of your stay here. Despite everything he takes care of you, in his own strange sort of way. 

Like how he tracks your cycle, always making sure you have anything you need on those days. Sometimes he even knows it’s starting before you do, he’ll bring you baskets with blankets and candy and any other little trinket or gift he saw that made him think of you. 

Jewelry, little plush toys, and books. Anything to try and make you feel anything other than the misery that constantly loomed over you as you waited for his next visit. He never goes more than a few days without seeing you and he always apologizes when he does. He returns with your favorite shampoo or lotion to make it up to you, but it never really changes how you feel about him. It’s nice to fantasize a world in which you enjoy your only source of company but you’re careful to never let that fantasy bleed into reality. 

If he were actually your partner you’d have locked him down ages ago. A part of you knows that he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with you though. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, you’re much more than that. You’re more like a goddess in a cage to him than an actual human being. A beloved pet bird. It’s clear he feels something more than simple love for you. It’s a devotion, a conscious effort to worship you. 

You are to be kept in pristine condition. 

Of course that doesn’t mean he can’t look. 

Two and a half years. 

That’s how long it took for the looking to escalate into something more. You were watching a movie. 

50 First Dates

You had picked it out, Javi liked action movies but would never complain when you wanted to watch a rom-com. You were on your bed, curled up under the blankets in a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t worn makeup since he took you, you rarely brushed your hair, you never put much thought into your appearance, and Javi wouldn’t give you a mirror. 

You had one, a long time ago. Within the first week you’d smashed it, threatening to slit your own throat if he didn’t let you out. All that resulted in was you no longer being allowed to have breakables. Plastic cutlery and paper plates were wordlessly passed to you from that point forward.

You had been watching in silence, he sat on the couch outside the cage like he always did and it wasn’t until you heard a shuddering groan that you turned around to see him kneeling beside the cage, one hand pressed up against the glass, steadying himself, the other wrapped around his cock.  

You were frozen in place. 

What are you supposed to do in that situation? 

You watched, slack jawed as he took his time. His gaze made you feel naked, like he could see through the layers of blankets and baggy clothing. 

He had looked you in the eye when he finished. Briefly staring wide eyed before his eyes squeezed shut and with a long, drawn out moan and a strained cry of your name. His cum painted the glass and before you could form any sort of response he was already stuffing himself back into his pants and standing. You want to say something, anything. Something to hold him accountable for what he just did, but you can’t think of anything, and he’s already leaving. 

Before you can even blink he’s gone, without so much as a glance in your direction. And you’re left alone, in the lamp light, unable to escape the sight of his filth on the glass. Covering your head with a blanket as you waited for it to be late enough for the power to cut out and leave you in a safe, and comfortable darkness. 

A part of you hoped that the white speckles would be gone when you woke up but you weren’t that lucky. 

You faced away from that wall, with your head buried in a book until you looked at the clock and knew it was almost time to face him again. When he returned he had an aura of shame around himself, his arms were full of grocery bags and his eyes were red rimmed and teary. 

“I’m so sorry- I just- I love you so much, I don’t know what came over me.” If this was a normal relationship and the two of you had maybe gotten into an argument or something you would have forgiven him. After all he looked genuinely remorseful as he stared at you, going through the bags before setting down several takeout containers with labels you recognized. He had gone out and gotten all your favorites. Your favorite fast food place, as well as a high end chinese restaurant you loved for special occasions, and a clear plastic case with a slice of your favorite flavored cake from a small bakery near your apartment that you frequented. (You’d never asked him to get you anything from there before, you’d never even mentioned the place to him.) 

Through his mumbled apologies he set down your favorite bubble tea flavor and a water bottle. 

He had passed everything to you through the opening in the cage with trembling hands as he sniffled. Once you had everything he sprayed the drying remnants of his release with Windex, pulling several paper towels off the roll and wiping it until it was as if it never happened. By the time he was finished his cheeks were red and big tears rolled down his face. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Before you can stop yourself you’re comforting him, as if he’s the victim in this situation. 

“It’s not okay, I don’t want you to think that that’s why you’re here.” He mumbles sadly, letting his forehead hit the glass. Through your disgust for your own words you sense something else.

Opportunity. 

The only chance you’re going to get for escape involves him unlocking the door. Something he hasn’t done since he put you in here in the first place. You’ve tried in the past. Not often, there weren’t very many chances, you had everything you needed here, running water and a bathroom, any other sustenance was provided by him through the little opening. There was so rarely an opportunity, and when there were he always anticipated your plans before you got to put them into motion. But you’ve never tried deception. You think you would have, considering you’re an actress but it had never crossed your mind until just now. You can’t half ass this though. If you decide to do this you will get one chance to do it right. 

Go big or go home. 

“No really, it’s okay. It’s sort of… flattering.” His face drops the second you say it and regret starts creeping in. You’re going to die here. He’s going to keep you here until the day you die and no one will ever know what happened to you. A young starlight, taken out in her prime. 

“It’s not, it’s disgusting.” He tosses the paper towels away, sniffling to himself as he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, swaying anxiously back and forth. You take a seat on your bed across from him, fighting the urge to put your hand on the glass. You don’t want to lay it on too thick, he’ll see right through that. 

“It’s fine, it’s- it’s natural.” You’re struggling to find the right words that make it feel real. At one point you were a rather talented actress but you’re out of practice. “Seriously. Especially from you. It’s really sweet.” Fuck, are you doing too much?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he chews his lip as he stares at you, you can tell he’s skeptical. He should be. You so rarely speak to him and when you do it’s never to be kind. 

“Actions speak louder than words.” 

Someone said that in a movie Javi picked, you had sat and let him read the scene to you afterwards. 

He wants an actress, you can give him that. You can perform, as long as that’s all it is. If it’s a performance you can keep your wall up. You stumble off the bed, your legs feeling like jelly as you pull open the drawer on your nightstand. 

This plan feels stupider by the minute but you need to commit.

He didn’t gift you sex toys the way he did with other little things to make you happier. But they were always just sort of there. In their original packaging, shoved in your nightstand drawer with a few batteries he’d left as well, they’d been here when you woke up in the cage. You doubt you’ll be able to relax enough to do this without a little help, and you have to be convincing. If you aren’t believable he’s unlikely to trust you in the future. If you fuck this up now you’ll never get another chance. 

It’s a pale pink rabbit. You’d probably never buy something like it for yourself, it looks… expensive. The silicone is smooth against your fingers as you rip open the packaging, twisting the base open to pop in two batteries. Rushing in an attempt to not lose your nerve. When you gather your courage you risk a glance up at him, just fast enough to watch his tongue dart out and wet his lips.

So he does want this. 

Good. 

Pressing the button on the toy makes it buzz to life.  

Okay. 

This isn’t so bad. It’s just masturbating, if you do this for him you can take advantage of the obvious attraction he has for you. Even if it doesn’t work immediately, eventually this ends with him letting you out, or at the very least letting himself in, which is all you need. 

So you get back into bed, and you lean on a stack of pillows before really focusing on him. 

And you ask him the question he didn’t bother to ask you.

“Is this okay?” You hope the trembling in your voice comes off as endearing. 

His throat bobs as he nods. Maybe he doesn’t mind that you’ve been laying it on a little thick. Maybe you’ve denied him your affections for so long that he doesn’t want to risk rejecting any advance from you. No matter how out of the blue it seems/.

You push your sweats down to your ankles before kicking them off the bed. No time for embarrassment or regret now, if he senses hesitation none of this will be worth it. He’s moved to be sitting on the couch directly outside the cage now. His knees pressed together as he sits with his hands in his lap, looking almost comically polite. 

No sense putting off the inevitable. 

It’s been a while, there’s a camera in the corner of the cage so you don’t masturbate often, and when you do it’s late at night, once the lights are off and you can hide under your blanket. You can’t do that now though, that would defeat the purpose. 

You leave the toy off as you shove it down the front of your panties. Pressing the soft head of it against your slit, finding it surprisingly easy to tease your entrance with it. 

Are you wet? 

It’s been a while, that’s why. 

Javi certainly hasn’t wasted any time. If he were sitting any closer he’d be fogging up the glass, his hand is shoved down his pants, his face already flushed red. His usual rigid posture is lost as he leans back into the couch cushions, refusing to tear his eyes off of you. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you push the toy into you, holding back a gasp as you swallow. At least it feels sort of good. Good enough to make you wish you’d swallowed your pride and used this before today. 

Your body moves instinctually as your free hand reaches forward to push your panties down and turn the vibe on in one motion, the silicone attachment pressing against your clit as you press the toy deeper into your pussy. It’s a little too easy to relax suddenly. Javi now slowly strokes himself, his cock in his hand, looking painfully hard as he squeezes the base of his shaft, almost as if he’s scared of blowing his load too soon. 

Good. 

The less time it takes the better. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you angle the toy, letting the tip of it brush against your g-spot and drawing an authentic moan from you. Fighting the urge to cover your mouth in surprise, you repeat the motion. The combination of sensations making your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress. 

“Fuck-” Your voice catches in your throat, your fingers twitch against the button to turn the vibrations up a level. 

Once you find your rhythm it’s easy to forget about the nerves and what’s at stake. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation and the sight of Javi shuddering as he gasps. It’s easy to focus on the attractive parts of him for a brief moment, to make things easier. And it’s easy to wonder if his cock would feel better than the toy that hums and makes your body tense up deliciously. 

It’s actually terrifying how easy it is. 

It’s enough to make you horrified for just a split second. He wasn’t lying when he said you could be happy if you stopped fighting. Twisted into the pleasure you’re feeling is something else. Relief. Relief for the peace you find when you stop fighting him. You could feel this good all the time if you wanted, you and Javi could have your favorite food for dinner, you could watch your favorite movies, and act out your favorite scenes. 

You could feel good. 

You could have nights like these where you watch him jerk off his pretty, thick cock and know that someone loves you enough to take care of you like this. You could let him buy you pretty things and toys that make you feel so so so good. 

And that thought terrifies you. 

If you stayed in this cage you would eventually become entirely complacent. 

It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, but eventually.

You will be happy to flutter about your cage once you’ve forgotten how to fly. 

His pretty little bird. 

It’s your orgasm that snaps you out of that living nightmare. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been fucking the toy, pleasuring yourself to that little daydream. This wasn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t have done it but it’s too late for that now especially when you’re groaning out his name as you remove the still buzzing toy, now slick with your wetness. Javi’s eyes are wide as he clearly can’t hold back any longer as he dirties his shirt and pants with his own release. 

As you quickly reach for the toy, turning it off, you pull your panties up in a hurry. Maybe you should push your luck and ask him to come into the cage now. A sense of dread is settling in your stomach as you realize that you can’t be here much longer, who knows how quickly you’ll crumble if you keep letting yourself do this. It’s best to make this a swift process where you don’t have any more time to sink into the hell that is acceptance of these four glass walls. 

You’re about to do it. About to tell him that he should join you, that it would feel better for the both of you if he was in the cage as well but you don’t get a chance to as he zips his pants back up.

“Go to bed, when you’re asleep I’m gonna leave you a gift.” He stands abruptly, giving you a reassuring smile before pressing his hand up to the glass. You don’t hesitate to crawl up the length of the bed and press your own to his, it’s brief but you can feel the connection here. 

This is just the beginning. 

After today you’ll put more effort in. You’ll make it happen and you’ll make it happen fast. You can put the time and effort in, it’s not like you have anything better to do. You’ll convince him that it’s real before you lose yourself entirely and when the day finally comes where he opens the door you won’t waste the opportunity. 

You’ll leave your room. 

You can figure out the logistics of it later but for now you take the sleeping pill he slides through the opening every night he visits. You don’t usually take it but you need sleep and this will be easier if he thinks you’re compliant. With a sip of your drink the little pill goes down and your eyes close. 

And you dream that you’re a bird, flying through a blue sky.  

You sleep better than you ever have before in the cage. 

Until you wake, the lamp being on is the only indicator you have that it’s daytime. Your hair stands on end as you sit up. He was here. Things have been moved, little things, noticeable things. Your empty drink is tossed in the bin and it smells of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t ever come inside the cage, that goes against everything he tells you. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out what’s different. How long were you out? The pills have never made you feel this fuzzy before on the rare occasions that you’ve taken them, you do your best to focus but it’s difficult when everything’s so muddled. So you do the one thing you know will clear your head and you list the things you see. 

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Something’s wrong, different. 

He said he was going to give you a gift. What the fuck did he do? Did he leave it in here? Was it too big to fit through the opening? Is that why he came into the cage? 

You don’t catch it immediately, but there is a note taped to the inside of the glass. 

I knew you’d learn to be happy : ) 

See you tonight.

Love, Javi 

You look back around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Oh. 

i no longer have a tag list, follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on my writing!!

#lincolndjarin #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x you #javier gutierrez #javi g fanfiction #pedro pascal #dead dove do not eat #tw noncon

[icarus-star]

rory culkin characters during nnn ♡

a/n: ermm exactly what the title says?? no nut november, woo. !!! this is a collab with the WONDERFUL @ethical-cain-vinnel !!! go read their part too!! right here!!

characters included in this part? danny, chris, possum.

dan cooper..♥︎

he definitely knows of it as a concept, but has never really thought of participating in it himself. it sounds somewhat.. painful to him. the thought of not cumming for an entire month.

once you bring it up to him, he's a little hesitant to participate. but as always, he wants you to be happy (he does also enjoy the whole "learning/getting better with self-control" aspect of it).

he actually does a really good job for the first few days!! but, he has a somewhat high sex drive.. so around day four, he'll get just a little bit needy. but, he calms himself down and tries to just forget about it.

he tries really hard to last as long as he can for your sake, but at some point, maybe around day 10 or 11, he gets super horny. he's all over you. trying to hug you, kiss you, hump your thigh. anything. poor boy just wants to cum so badly.

and thats when you invest in a chastity cage for him! he's a little scared of it at first, but he gets used to it. and still, the only thing he can think about is fucking you. he wants it so badly, every night he has dirty little dreams about you.

at the end of the month, when december finally comes, he's all over you. finally being able to fuck you is like heaven. he's hugging you close to him, rutting into you, so excited. he cums so quickly into the session too. but that doesn't stop him from going at it for all the missed hours.

chris kenton..♥︎

he loves a good challenge, he's actually the one to mention it first. like, the two of you were just talking and he brought it up.

but the thing is, he's probably gonna lose first too. he's super horny pretty much all of the time. i mean, he's got nightly jerk off sessions with lube and a fancy flesh light. he didn't think of having to give that up when he decided to participate in nnn.

i swear, he probably lost on day one. but not consciously. he just HAPPENED to have a sexy little dream about you anddd came during that. and obviously since it's a challenge, he needed to tell you (please have him tell you what happened in the dream, he'll be so cute and blushy while talking about it).

disqualified on the very first day, how disappointing. at least he gets to watch everything in his porn collection again! (he'll cum untouched if it's something he finds attractive enough, he's a horny little bastard istg).

and because he lost, especially so quickly, deprive him of fucking you until december. yeah, he has his fancy little fleshlight and favorite porno, but nothing compares to your perfect hole (his words btw).

possum..♥︎

he's always down to do something stupid like nnn. he actually participates every year. because of this, he does a surprisingly good job (despite how much of a dirty, horny fuck he is).

he looks at it as another form of edging, really. but then he complains about his balls hurting from.. sperm build up (😨).

so, he lasts the entire month! he says that all he has to do is ignore it. and to ignore it, he spends his time with his opossum companion rather than you. it's actually really smart, you make him horny, the opossum doesn't. what a simple man.

he also just get super high and cowers in the woods in fear of aliens a lot more than usual. it's a bit of a problem but it's something he chooses to distract himself with.

there probably aren't many times where he starts to get super super needy, except for once.

the two of you were snuggled up together on the couch under some blankets. nice and warm, maybe watching a movie. and his hands just happened to wander to your chest, tweaking your nipples.

at the end of the month though, once it's finally december and he can cum, oh man does he fuck you. way different than usual, too. he gets you in the quickest position, absolutely POUNDING your hole.

#i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #rory culkin smut #danny cooper #intruders 2015 #chris kenton twelve #chris kenton headcanons #chris kenton #rory culkin twelve #possum welcome to willits #rory culkin possum #possum x reader welcome to willits #welcome to willits

[soapisahimbo]

NSFW ABC - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Edition

Here we go! Mister Garrick! I thought this one would be difficult, but I'm actually quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope you are too!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

I will be working on a few more things for you, being some non-requested headcanons, Rodolfo Parra's NSFW ABC and jealous!Ghost NSFW headcanons, so I hope you look forward to it!

warnings: senseless smut, detailed descriptions, gaz is a horny little shit, hinted at female anatomy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

He'll spend a moment or two just panting into your skin, stroking his hands over your hips and thighs while his dick is still inside you until the high has worn off, then he shifts to look at you and asks you how you're feeling. Kisses you gently, but passionately, and you'll feel him press himself closer to you once more, his tongue slipping into your mouth; unless you want this to lead into another round or two, you're going to have to redirect his attention. Break his train of thought by pecking him on the nose instead or tickling his sides and he'll get the gist. He'll chuckle out an apology before gently pulling out and leaning back to take a good look at you.

His next course of action depends on the time of day - if it's in the morning and you have plans for the day, shower it is. If no plans, whether you taking a shower or he just gets a warm towel to clean you off before you go to make breakfast together depends solely on if you can still walk. If one of you (most likely you) is out of commission, the one who can still feel their legs goes to make breakfast in bed. If it's later in the evening you'll most likely settle down in the sheets and stay wrapped around each other, kissing and touching until you fall asleep. This will probably, most definitely lead to another heated session once you wake up in the morning.

Washing each other off is almost casual and quite relaxing, and it feels like you're just hanging out with your best friend. Your very intimate best friend with wandering hands, a teasing smirk and an extensive knowledge of all your weakest spots.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Having a strong and capable body is incredibly important in his line of work, and he usually doesn't give much thought to his appearance if there are more important things to keep track of. But he knows that he's an attractive man, he knows that others look at him and wish that they had either him or his body, and he definitely knows that you watch him closely when he walks around, be it fully clothed or shirtless or with just a towel around his hips. If you have your own favourite part of his body, you can bet your ass he'll use it against you. Making you blush brings him endless amusement.

But if he's going to pick something on himself, if he really had to, he'd probably say his arms, chest and back. He's leaner than for example Ghost, but he's strong, resilient and balanced and it shows. He loves flustering you with his body; he wraps his arms tightly around you, or pins you to the wall and cages you in with his arms at either side of your head, and he grabs your hands at random and places them onto his chest and slowly guides them down his torso, down his abdomen, before smirking and just turning to walk away. Likes turning around and checking the scratches you've left on him in the mirror, and he will definitely tease you about that, too - nothing you do is sacred.

On you, he loves your neck, your chest and your hips. His hands never stay in one place - he strokes and caresses and squeezes any part that he can reach, but he finds that they're drawn to these parts more than most. He likes the way you feel in his hands, and as much of a little shit-tease as he is, he simply loves the feeling of burying his face in your neck, especially in non-sexual moments. He's an absolute devil with marking you up though, and if you don't feel like wearing a turtleneck for the next week or so, you'll need to stay on your guard.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

He loves cumming in your mouth if you let him, specifically on your tongue. He doesn't care if you swallow it or not, but just seeing you with your tongue out, with his cum dripping either off of the tip of it or down your throat; don't be surprised if he's ready to go again. Other than that, cumming on your tummy or ass also makes him feel like he's marked his territory, in a sense. He's by no means the jealous or possessive type, but he just likes knowing that only he gets to see you like that. Especially if he gets to spread your cheeks and cum just against the rim of your hole.

Will definitely cum in you if you let him or want him to, but he honestly likes seeing it on you more, and frankly, he wants your cum on him in one way or another as well.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Once, a while before the two of you started dating, when you were still just best friends, he caught you masturbating. He didn't mean to, he simply opened the door and there you were, half naked in bed and with your hand down in your underwear. He knew he should've closed the door the instant he realized what you were doing, left you to your own devices and forget he even saw anything. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He watched, with wide eyes, heated cheeks and clenched fists and a new sudden hardness below the belt as you brought yourself to climax, never noticing he was there. He couldn't help but take note of how you shivered, how your legs clamped together, how your hips bucked up and how your back arched when you came and he just knew instantly that that image would be burned into his brain forever. He quietly stepped back, closed the door and rushed away as he tried his absolute best to ignore what he just saw and how he felt about it, but he was helpless.

For the following couple of weeks, he could barely look at you, which was an insane challenge considering that you were one of his closest friends. But that image would pop back into his head every time you came into view, and he had brought himself to climax to it far more times than he would have liked to admit. Any time you spoke, he'd remember the sounds you made and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like if he could make you shiver like that; if he could ever have you make those noises for him and him alone.

You could tell something was up, but he kept his mouth shut. When you thought that maybe you had done something wrong, he didn't confess, but he assured you that that was most certainly not the case and gave himself a mental slap for letting his fantasies get the better of him. There was definitely a change in your friendship, you could tell, but he refused to let you believe it was your fault. It was during a party, when you bumped his hip with yours and made a dirty joke that the floodgates opened, and he pulled you close and kissed you. He confessed, not what he had seen, but what he felt for you and how much he wanted you.

The first time he finally got to put his thoughts to reality, he was transfixed and eager, demanding that you show and tell him everything that makes you tick.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

It's safe to say that he's got a fair amount of experience - fooled around a bit during college and had a partner when he first joined the military, but it didn't quite work out. Once he joined SAS, he put all of his mind into his training and his missions. Considering that he's the youngest in 141, it hasn't been quite as long for him as it may have been for some of the others, and he's no stranger to one-night-stands, but he eventually found that it wasn't worth his time and energy.

Once he met you, he completely ignored any offers from other people; he'd much rather hang out with you, even if it was just platonically at first, and now that he has you in every way imaginable he doesn't need anyone else.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Go on, baby, get on top. He likes watching you, likes it when you take charge, loves when you ride the absolute life out of him. He'll hold himself off to the best of his abilities, wanting you to cum on his cock if you can, but if he cums before you he'll tell you to either get up on his face or lay down so he can give you "the good stuff". He's also more than happy - almost too happy - to take over if it's starting to become more and more of a challenge for you to keep the pace. Says it's to reward you as he switches the two of you around and wraps your legs around him; "you did so good, baby, you're so good."

He's probably the biggest advocate of cuddle-sex; #1 cuddle-fucker if you will. Laying on your sides, either facing each other so he can hold your leg over his hip, or spooning is a huge thing for him. He'll keep his lips and tongue on you as much as he physically can, moaning into your skin. Getting out of his grip will be a challenge, both because of his strength and because he begs you not to. Either let him give it to you, or give it to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

The two of you were best friends way before you became a couple and you still are, so inside jokes, snarky comments, bickering and general sass is par for the course. Pinching, poking, teasing, tickling, you name it. There will most likely be lots of laughter between the two of you and there's not really a limit to what sets you off. If one of you goes, the other follows. Weird noises, dumb faces, an out-of-the-blue joke, an unexpected interruption, bumping heads, tripping and stumbling, getting stuck, pulling a muscle - you have had to stop fucking just because you can't stop laughing far too many times to count. This never kills the mood though. Once the laughter has died down, it's almost like the residual giggles turn you on even more and the sex just gets that much better.

That of course doesn't mean he doesn't have his serious moments. He's happy to have you in his life and he wants you to know this. He seeks you out when he's had a rough day or a mission has taken a bit more out of him than usual, only wanting to be held by you, and he will insist on doing the same for you if you're going through something as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Much like the hair on his head, but shorter. Black, semi-thick and tightly curled. It's spread out just above his pubic mound - not quite a happy trail but almost - and down the upper part of his inner thighs, sticking close to the skin. He usually does a full trim before deployment because it grows kind of slow, and then once more when he comes back home, but he doesn't do much with it during the time in between other than keeping it clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Remember, #1 cuddle-fucker. He lives fully and wholly for cuddles that turn into sex that turn back into cuddles and then back into sex. Of course he doesn't expect it every time, nor does he try to initiate it every time you cuddle, but it's for sure one of his favourite things. He's in no way awkward with affection and will look deep into your eyes when he tells you that he loves you.

He sighs into your ear as he holds you close and slowly ruts into you, he whispers all his love into your skin even if you can't hear him, he writes tiny little messages with the tips of his fingers even if you can't see them. You're not always aware of his professions of love, but he feels a need to get them out there anyway. He just wants to make sure you know how he feels about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

It depends on the situation. If he's out on the field, he'll hold off without a problem. He has a steely determination and solid focus and if he thinks about you, it's mostly in the light of him just missing you and wanting to be back home. If he's in the safety of his own room back at base though, he jerks off nearly every night. It's a good way to get rid of tension, and it's a way for him to indulge in his fantasies about you after having to stay sharp for a longer period of time. He has some pictures and videos of you tucked away somewhere safe that he only takes out if he's 100% sure the coast is clear (Soap almost stumbled upon a photo of you in Gaz's wallet once and Gaz nearly snapped his neck for it). If he can, he might send you a video or a picture of his own, letting you know that he's thinking of you, as well as giving you an idea of what's to come once he returns.

If he's jerking off at home, it's mostly to tease you or because you're not there and he's impatient. You usually catch him in the act, and depending on how long he's been going, he'll either give you a smirk and ask if you're going to "lend him a hand" (pun fully intended) or he'll beg you to help him out and let him fuck you. It is highly recommended you use this against him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Not the kinkiest of the bunch, but is surprisingly into getting tied up and used by you. He'll grin at you and say things like, "you think you can take me, baby?" and while he might never ever openly confess this, there's a part of him that greatly enjoys when you put him in his place, so to speak; when you remind him that you can make just as much a mess of him as he can of you. Mark him up as much as you can, maybe in places that will be difficult for him to cover - if he whines, just tell him it's payback for all the times he's done it to you.

Matter of fact, he likes it when the two of you challenge each other. Who can hold off the longest? Who can make the other cum first or the hardest? Who will give in to the other first, who will touch the other first, who will beg first? Both of you will use the dirtiest tricks that you have to your advantage and each time is a real coin toss of who wins. But it makes it that much more fun and to be honest, losing isn't really all that bad either.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He's a fiend, and there's not really any limit to where he'll turn on his devilish charm and try to seduce his way into your pants. He does prefer the coziness of the bed overall, but he's not above sneaking you into a bathroom or a broom closet if he gets the chance. Is actually a pretty big fan of outdoor sex and wants to go hiking with you just to whisk you away into the woods somewhere where the wilderness will be your only witness. Also likes going out on shorter roadtrips just so you can pull over in some secluded spot and have some good old-fashioned car sex.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

He is incredibly domestic. He likes cooking and cleaning with you, likes curling up on the couch to watch a movie with you and just likes spending time with you in general. He doesn't always have mischievous intents when he starts touching you, sometimes it's just the safety and the feeling of being close with his friend and lover that warms him up in the best of ways. Any competitions between you two more often than not have some flirty or sexual undertones and you spend most of your times just pushing each other's buttons. Tease him, flirt with him, throw dirty jokes and innuendos his way and it'll have him more hot and bothered than he'd care to admit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Absolutely no humiliation or degradation. To him, sex is a moment to indulge in each other, to feel good and to connect. If he heard anyone else call you something degrading, he would already have ripped their face off before they'd gotten the last syllable out, so the idea of willingly and deliberately doing something like that in any situation, even with your consent, is nowhere near his comfort zone. Things like choking are also a bit of a no-go, because the last thing he wants his to hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He's not really the type to spend ages and ages with his face between your legs (he prefers to do that with his fingers), but he does do it often, usually when you least expect it. He asks if he can go down on you at any random moment, like in the middle of a movie or while you're making something to eat, or before you're heading out. He gets you off once or twice in rather quick succession and will give you a wolfish grin as you're recovering from the sudden onslaught of his tongue. He'll crawl up to your face to kiss you deeply and depending on how you decide to take it further, he will either pull his pants down to fuck you, or he'll just spread your legs and go back down once more to get a couple more quick orgasms out of you. Wants you to look at him while he does it though, or he'll use some of the dirtiest tricks he knows to get your attention (as if he doesn't already have it). He definitely doesn't mind getting you off a few more times before he even unbuckles his belt.

He also doesn't expect you to spend any exorbitant amount of time sucking him off, but he surely isn't going to turn the offer down. Grabs you firmly, but carefully by the hair and watches intently as you move your mouth up and down. He kinda wishes he could see it go down your throat if you can take him that deep. He sighs and coos and praises you with whatever words he can form, but mostly he'll just stare with his mouth hanging open, not even bothering to try and hold back any moans that escape him. He'll get a bit whiny once he starts nearing his climax, but leaves himself entirely in your hands (and mouth) and throws his head back once you work him over that edge. He'll shake and quiver once he cums and he'll hold your head in place until he's calmed down, and then wants to see his cum in your mouth before you swallow it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Honestly, you're in charge. He himself usually goes for a rather quick pace, one that will have both of you panting in sweating in a matter of moments, but he loves the way you do it. He'll only tell you to slow down if he's trying to hold out a little longer and needs to catch his breath, but a part of him truly relishes in the moment if you keep it up. If he himself slows down, it's more often than not to tease you. However fast or slow, hard or soft you want him to fuck you, he's got it. One thing that you can always count on is that he likes to grind his whole length into you, no matter the pace of it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

It's a pretty regular occurrence in your sex life. He loves the longer sessions, but every now and then he claims that the two of you might need "something to hold you off" for a little while. If he wasn't so goddamn good at it, you'd smack that smirk off of his face every time he came up with a new euphemism for it (so far, he's used ones like "an appetizer before the big meal", "a little preview", "dipping the toes", "sampling the goods" and "a sneak peek"). The type to tug at you and say "give me a taste before we head out, yeah?"

Getting pushed up against the wall with his hand slipping past your underwear or suddenly having his face press itself in between your thighs or having him press himself up against you to whisper all sorts of filth into you ears - it's to be expected at this point. With your consent, of course.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

While he likes to push it, he'd never actually put the two of you in any direct danger or unsafe situation, and he trusts that you wouldn't either. For example, the risk of getting caught when he fingers you while stuck in a traffic jam is certainly there, but the windows are tinted and he's making sure no one's actually paying attention. He's not the kinkiest or the roughest, but he'd still want to establish some safewords, just for that extra layer of safety.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Give him a moment, he'll make it last a lifetime. If he wants it to last, it'll be 1, maybe 2 long rounds where he'll go slow and steady, no rushing, just good vibes. If he's feeling more heated and horny, it'll be about 4 shorter rounds, give or take, that will have you inclined to ask him how he's still going. He doesn't necessarily stop there though - there can be several rounds spread out over an entire day if you have the time for it. He never expects anything though - if you're not up for it, he'll hold himself off. He might jerk off, but most of the time if you're not feeling it, neither is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Oh, he's definitely up for it. Wants you to give him a show first, especially if you've gotten something new. It's not like he's just going to sit there and watch though - he has to touch you, lay next to you and talk you through it, asking you how it feels and if you like it. "Is it good, baby? Does it feel as good as me?"

Definitely likes cock rings, just because it can make him last that much longer, and that ache is a sweet one. Unless you're in a mood for torture and get him one that vibrates - he won't know whether to love you or absolutely hate you for it.

He'll never turn down new ways to have some fun with you, and toys are a great way to really liven things up. If you use them while he's away you, he wants you to send him pictures and videos if you can. If not, you need to at least tell him about it. Or don't. Or do. He can't really decide on whether or not that's a good idea, because if he can't see or hear you while he knows for a fact that you're getting off without him, it'll have his mind running like a highspeed train.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

It's practically his middle name at this point. Switch "Gaz" out for "Unfair" and there you have it. He loves driving you up the wall when he knows you can't act out on your desires and there will be a ear-splitting grin deserving of a slap plastered on his face if you get even the slightest bit flustered. He's the type to act all seductive and heated and lean in to kiss you, but then turn at the last second and walk away as if nothing happened. Because of this, you have every right in the world to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He likes it when you turn things around on him, but that doesn't mean you should show him any mercy, nor does it mean it doesn't drive him insane.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Moans, sighs, whimpers, swears - he's not holding back. He can just about stay quiet if you're fooling around where someone else might hear you, but he likes letting you know that he's enjoying this. But he wants to know you're enjoying this too. If you're trying to hold back on those sweet, sweet noises without any actual reason, it'll almost offend him. Unless it's some sort of challenge, in which case, bring it on.

He's talkative, and he speaks in ways that would make even the boldest and most dirty-minded people fluster. He can have you weak in the knees from just his words alone, and he's sent you over edge several times through the things he moans into your ear while he fucks you, and you might need to gag him if you want to render him unable to use that against you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

You were sitting in the couch, chatting with a friend on the phone about unimportant happenings and plans to meet up when Kyle took a seat next to you. He mumbled out a "tell them I said hi", but didn't say much else. As the conversation with your friend dragged on, he started to get restless. You felt his hand on your thigh and you didn't think much of it at first, until it started to slide further up. You threw a playful glare his way, but he acted clueless. When he carefully cupped his hand between your legs, you covered the phone and whispered, "What are you doing?!"

He simply grinned and slid his hand into your pants. "Don't mind me, baby. Just act like I'm not here." Luckily your friend was too engrossed in their own story to notice your sudden lack of words as Kyle rubbed at your warmth between your legs. Before long, he slid off the couch and onto his knees, down between your legs, and dragged your pants down along with him. He lifted your knees up and placed teasing kisses along the seam of your underwear as you tried to pay attention to your friend. You tried to speak - or rather whisper - some sense into him when he dragged your underwear down as well and licked teasingly where your inner thighs met with your pubic mound, but to no avail. You were trying to think of excuses to give your friend to hang up when he looked up to you and said, "Like I'm not even here," and then gave a long, slow, wide-tongued lick and you prayed that your friend would never realize that something was amiss.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Somewhere between 5.5-6 inches and nearly perfectly proportionate to the rest of him. Curves upward a bit and to the right, but it honestly just helps him hit the good spots. Is a little bit thicker at the base, but other than that it's pretty even across the rest of his length.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He wants you one way or another practically all the time and he'll have you as much as you'll let him. You can usually tell by his kisses and touches what he wants, and the two of you often get each other in the mood almost automatically. He'll step back in an instant if you tell him that you're not feeling it, but he's nearly always up for it if you approach him with any sort of sexual intent. Rest assured, you will never feel unwanted.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Likes to fall asleep with you wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't fall asleep right away, but usually keeps mumbling about various nothings while stroking your arms or your face. The two of you will usually doze off while talking, your voices and the warmth of your bodies lulling both of you to sleep.

#cod x reader #cod mw2 fic #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick smut #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz smut #cod gaz

[bisexualcage]

Half-Truths | Johnny Cage x GN!Reader (Requested)

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: You and your costar Johnny get stuck in a PR (fake) relationship to promote your new film. It’s a bit fluffy & angsty.

Warnings: No warnings, although some sexual insinuations here and there.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I didn’t proof read a lot so yeah excuse any mistakes

There was a sense of annoyance you got immediately after receiving word that you’d have to participate in a PR relationship with no other than Johnny Cage. He was annoying— egotistical even, and that’s just what you saw when you were on set. So when your management suggested that it’d benefit the film’s promo to start dating you threw a fit. It was enough spending months with him filming, it was another nightmare pretending to like him in real life. Johnny was all over the idea, immediately jumped on board as attention starved as he was.

“So Cage, there’s been some rumors…circling the webs ya know…”

Johnny smirked and crossed his legs on the seat, knowing exactly what was about to come as he shot you a quick glance. “Oh I know, buddy.” He winked your way before looking back at the interviewer in front of you both. You were both promoting your film and in every interview you found yourself slowly going crazy by the same questions.

“Is it true? Are you both a thing?” The interviewer smiled.

“Oh we’re more than a thing. We’re quite…familiar with one another for a few months now.” He smirked, then playfully bumped your shoulder with his as you sported a flushed expression.

The interviewer then looked at you for confirmation making your eyes roll mentally; “That’s…that’s exactly right.” Your smile.

“Oh babe, I love when you’re shy.” Johnny said suddenly, making you go more red against your wishes.

“Wow, you two are sure hitting it off! I’m happy for you both, I bet your fans are ecstatic Cage.” The interviewer chuckled.

“Hell yeah, they love (name), right honey?”

—

“Hey- sweetheart, wait up!” Johnny yelled after you when the interview was over, you felt like your face was 50 shades of red and you hated him for making you feel gooey in front of a camera even though it was not real.

“Don’t.” You turned around suddenly and face him, “You embarrassed me. We were just supposed to confirm we were dating, none of that lovey dovey bullshit you pulled.”

There was a loud silence on his part as you finished ranting, a hurt expression of sorts before he shrugged it off and smirked again. “Come on! We gotta sell it. That’s what our management demands— that’s what the fans demand.” He let his hands drop to his thighs.

You scoffed loudly, “A confirmation was enough!”, you were being immature, hiding what you really felt inside.

Johnny laughed now, “Listen sweetheart, you weren’t exactly selling it in the previous interviews so I had to step it up!”

What’s funny is that he was correct, but you wouldn’t admit it. Not now. Not ever probably.

“Whatever, I’m done for the day.” You rubbed your forehead.

The actor raised an eyebrow at you, “You gonna come to the film festival right? Now there, there is a lot of promo to do there in a few days.” He winked.

You groan, “It’s my job unfortunately so of course I’m going-“

“You know, in all the months that we spent together shooting I’ve never known you to be the relaxed type— you’re constantly uptight. Like a little angry chihuahua. Let loose, this’ll be good for us.” He grinned.

“Good for us?” You raise an eyebrow questionably.

Johnny chuckles, “Yes, us…”

“What do you mean by that? Don’t start actually getting feelings on me now.” You cross your arms, a visible warmth up your neck.

“I know I know, it’s our job. Don’t worry, honey.” He nudges your shoulder.

—

A few days later the film festival came to be, there was actors of all calibers walking around being interviewed and their films being shown on projectors for audiences and critics. There was already a pressure of sorts- professionally and personally. You didn’t consider yourself the best actor in the world but you put your heart in this film— and as much as you hated to admit so did Johnny.

You walk in with professional attire, a carpet on the floor as you walked over it and a bunch of paparazzi started shouting your name and taking pictures. You weren’t used to this, you weren’t Johnny and it made you anxious the more you stood there trying to smile at every direction. Your hands shook slightly and you shoved them in your pockets to hide it.

Suddenly, you hear an uproar of yelling on the other side of the carpet as someone pulled up in a limo and you immediately knew who it was. Johnny, getting out in a dashing suit and tie, his usual shades on his face as he had his hair swayed a bit to the side. A bunch of fans were yelling at him compliments and even inappropriate comments but Johnny lived for that and smiled at them as blew kisses at the fans behind the railings.

“Name! Do you like your boyfriend’s outfit?” A paparazzi yelled as you forgot you were posing on the carpet, you shook your head and gave a simple thumbs up as your fingers kept shaking. You were about to have enough and walk off to the actual event but you felt a hand slide around your waist and pull you back.

“Hey, baby.” Johnny whispered in your ear and winked at you as he held you to his side, his hand softly gripping your waist as the paparazzi went crazy and started flashing their cameras even more. Johnny showed his pearly whites to the cameras all confidently and you looked the opposite, he noticed this as he felt your skin shake under his grip.

“You okay? Come on, let’s go…let’s get you some water.” He slid his hand now to the small on your back and walked your jittery figure out the carpet to the main event.

Inside you were screaming at his unexpected tenderness and for the life of you…you couldn’t figure out if this was part of the PR or not. Regardless, you looked at him with a rare softness. “Thanks…” you said lowly, a warmness on your cheeks.

Johnny chuckles and pats your back now, “If you fainted on the carpet it would been good for the film’s promo.” He said, obviously joking, there was a flash of care under his cocky expression. “Now, where’s that water?” He looked around, a bunch of actors and executives finding their seats for the viewing of your film.

Johnny then grabbed you by the wrist suddenly and dragged you like an excited puppy when he found the bar, “Hey man, give me your best H20 and a whiskey.”

The barman nodded and handed him a water bottle and then handed him his whiskey. Johnny opened the water bottle cap with his mouth, which you found amusing to say the least and then handed it to you; “Drink up, don’t want you pale. I know you ain’t used to these type of huge events like I am.”

“Johnny I’m fine for Christ sake-“ you chug the water, a clear blush on your face.

“Huh oh! Don’t blame a guy for caring you rascal.” He nudges you.

“I’m not saying you can’t…just….” You trail off shyly.

The actor raises an eyebrow, “Just what, sweetness?”

Before you can even formulate a rebuttal the hosts called for all attendees and cast members to get to their seats for the viewing of the film to start. You both found your seats, along with the director of the film and a few other cast members. You were nervous now, critics came from all around to judge and you couldn’t keep your leg from bouncing.

As the lights dimmed and the film started you looked over at a smiley Johnny who has his eyes fixated on the screen— the lights highlighting his face. It was endearing almost, despite his irritating personality sometimes he cared about filmmaking he cared about the craft— he cared about acting. If you counted the amount of times he quizzed you on film trivia back when you were filming on set you’d be a billionaire. He must of noticed your staring because he snapped his head your way and smirked.

“You know, we look good onscreen.” He whispered in your ear.

You chuckle softly, “I hope so. Would hate for a bunch of old men critiquing how bad I look.” You whisper back.

Johnny snorted now, a sparkle in his eyes even though it was pretty dark. Patting your knee briefly and then going back to watch the film. It was as if it was so natural of him to be so touchy with you and you didn’t get it.

As the film comes to an end there was a standing ovation. Rows of people standing up to applaud the film and it made you emotional. Your eyes glassy but you didn’t let any tears fall. Johnny looked over at you and patted your back with a smile, rubbing your back softly. “You’re just as a rockstar as I am.” He mumbled.

“Shut up.” You laugh with a shy smile.

Soon after, there was interviews held. Your whole cast and crew sat in a circle as interviewers asked everyone questions one by one.

“You seem emotional. This is your first time at a film festival right? and you experienced a standing ovation. You were amazing alongside Johnny and you guys had the best chemistry.” An interviewer said your way, the whole cast and crew looking at you, including Johnny who sat next to you.

You chuckle with a blush, “Thank you. Yeah, I was certainly a mess. This is all new for me and I- I really am so grateful for this opportunity.”

The interviewer now turned to Johnny with an excited expression, “Was there an instance on set that made you go…wow, this’ll work. I mean, it was so good you’re both in a relationship now.”

Johnny chuckles, looking over at you briefly; “I guess it was. Although, yeah, there was a moment on set where we were shooting the kissing scene and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why I was shaking like a damn maraca— I’ve kissed so many people. But (name)’s confidence and sternness in getting it done made me more…interested.”

Your face grew warm at his unexpected honesty, even while he said it there was no ounce of cockiness unlike in other interviews. It took you aback to say the least.

“And that’s how it came to be, huh? You were hooked immediately?” The interviewer kept going.

Johnny nods, “Definitely, like a fish to a hook.”

You looked at Johnny with a stunned expression, still not knowing how real he was being about that.

“You look surprised.” The interviewer shot at you.

“Oh- no, I’m just shocked at his information. He…never told me this.” You shifted in your seat as everyone in th room looked your way. “But huh- yeah he never ceases to amaze me.”

There wasn’t much PR work done on both your parts other than being seen in interviews together and some public sightings of you both walking around town, up until the carpet today when he decided to hold your waist. Outside of that everything’s been pure speculation and with Johnny confirming you both “dating” a few days ago, these invading questions were only gonna ramp up in the following weeks. And that was only further proven when the next question smacked your face.

“How’s bedroom time? Is (name) as stern with you in bed as on set?” The interviewer said with a perverted smile.

You didn’t know how to answer when he directed that question at you, everyone in the room slightly gasped and went quiet.

“What?” You whispered at the interviewer, your throat becoming dry.

“I said-“

“Hold your horses. That’s not a very respectful question is it? And most of all none of your damn business.” Johnny’s laid back demeanor was suddenly gone and his jaw clenched slightly. He took his shades off and his brown eyes were staring holes in to him.

“Woah- hold on, I’m just asking questions. I mean, y’all confirmed your relationship recently I’m just scooping a bit-“

“Johnny-“ you tried to intervene.

But Johnny grew colder at the man, “And that gives you the right to be a weirdo?”

Suddenly both of your agents stood up and begged for you both to say your goodbyes and end the interview. Johnny on the other hand wasn’t persuade as easily and ended up asking for the interviewers boss and the company he works for.

“Hey, damn- you sure make a habit of running off!” Johnny ran up behind you as the event came to a close.

You turn around with a stern expression, “Stop…”

“Woah woah woah- what’s wrong?” He whispered, looking around to see if anyone was looking.

You scoff loudly, crossing your arms, “You’re confusing me, you know that?”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “About?”

“About this whole damn thing. This.” You point and him and yourself. “This damn circus act, it’s gonna drive me insane-“

“Babe, you agreed to this circus act. Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not having a bit fun despite…it’s downs.” He thinks back to the interviewer with a solemn expression.

“Look, I appreciate you sticking up for me. But all you’re doing is confusing the hell out of me with what’s real or not. Sometimes it looks like you mean what you say and do-“

“I do. I can’t keep faking it anymore.” He said with a serious expression, his little smile gone.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“That whole story you told about being nervous when kissing me on set, that was real? Your nice deeds?” You said a bit too loudly because of how shocked you were.

He approaches you more with a tender expression, making you grow warm, “Yes.”

You shake your head rapidly, “Cage, you better not be pulling my leg here…”

“Shut up and come here…” he cupped your jaw with both his hands and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

It was all so sudden that you didn’t even know what was happening at first, you eventually reciprocated with a blush on your face. When he felt you reciprocating he let out a sigh of relief against your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth and rubbing it against yours, he then pulled back softly as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Cat got your tongue, honey?” He rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re crazy you know that?” You smile warmly, “god you drive me insane…”

“Tell me, was this better than the kiss we had on set?” He smirked, looking down at your lips.

“It’s definitely an upgrade.” You look at his eyes softly.

Johnny smiled softly, bringing you in for an embrace, his mouth against your ear; “These weeks have been hell- pretending to be with you, making up stories and none of them being real. I want it to be real.”

It was a completely different version of him you’ve never seen, unusually very vulnerable and real.

“You know, I never really hated you. I was trying to…push my feelings away— thinking that it’d prevent me from liking you.” You said truthfully, looking in to his eyes.

“Oh I know that sweetheart, thats why I kept being specially annoying with the PR cause I knew you liked me— could see it from a mile away.” His smirk came back on his face, “I mean, who could resist this?”

“Cage…” You slap his shoulder playfully.

“Smack me like that again and we’re gonna end up in completely different circumstances.” He whispered in your ear.

“Oh yeah? You’re already thinking about that?”

Johnny kisses your jawline, taking in your smell, “Well, we are an item now are we not? No PR, no bs anymore babe.”

“Thank god, Hollywood.”

#johnny cage mk11 #johnny cage #mk1 #mortal kombat #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene” — Geto Suguru

Synopsis: For money and power, Suguru would do a lot, but for a love he didn’t want? Somehow, he finds himself bending even the strongest of ideals. Five years ago he’d saved a monkey—not actually processing the estranged entanglement that would lead him to.

— word count: 8.7k

— A/n: I wouldn’t be a thorough Suguru fucker if I didn’t write cult Geto and just something I (we) deserved<;3

— New Taglist: since the last one got confusing, here’s a new one babies&lt;3

— Warnings: smut!!MDNI!!Afab! Reader x Suguru; use of religious themes; minor death; power play; slight gore; impact play; sub-dom dynamics; degradation; humiliation; impact play (fem receiving); oral (m! And f! Receiving); reader is mostly referred to as a female; complicated storyline; mentions of blood

The first bell.

The second bell.

Then the third.

Married.

~5 years ago~

The words echoed in your head, over and over and over and over—it hurt.

His hands were soft as they held yours, he led you slow, your father’s did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out. And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his Servants had sung to you about, nothing like the glimpses you’d caught of him. This man, the one on your altar—that was Suguru Geto.

Not the Geto-Sama you’d heard of, the ones who was a deity to all- a pretty hand fared upon those who sought him blindly; not the Curse user Geto, the fugitive you recognised him to be, the one you hated—no.

None of that.

This was Suguru Geto—your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all. But the heart of the little girl in you wept, openly so, when the worn upon thin line of a supposed smile didn’t do so much as even cast a shadow upon you. Not to be perceived wrong, however—Suguru certainly had grinned and smirked, laughed and tickled himself senseless—perhaps so to forget this ordeal—to forget you.

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a saint Suguru Geto would be deemed the next day in the whispers of his followers, especially the ones who envied to be you.

Don’t get me wrong, congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word, just not the way you hoped—or even supposed for that matter.

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, a little dream and heart crushed grudgingly when you realized it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in their weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting your presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling your father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like the storm his warm hands had saved your family from, colder still somehow was his presence, then and now. And you realized, your heart — to what you had thought to be a void, trained so — breaking as you realized that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy within your presence, or anyone else’s.

Pathetic.

But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity you despised all that was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Suguru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

But it was his choosing, was it not? And mayhaps, yours.

The cult leader had chosen you, and in the process, you—him.

He’d watched you a while, days, you knew of his lingering gaze—respectful then, disgusting now.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honor and cherish and protect Suguru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

You remembered the day clearly—father had knocked once on your once—a new found privacy in your sheltered house was the first sign.

A wide smile—“He’s chosen you.”

Your heart sunk.

He’d chosen you.

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his daughters’ smile, innocent - his followers’ sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes were hazy; his best man’s tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- not your first- the breath hitched as Suguru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he would have proven to be—or, as you knew, he was.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, your mother and sister were perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—sincerely, fuck you.

The ride back ‘home’ was tedious, it burnt, it burnt all too much.

“Geto-Sama will prove to be amazing,” the driver yapped yet, all too soon—as he had been for the past anxious hours—time moved slow, slower than the gaze you didn’t dare hold against him.

A soft smile he held, serene as if, “I’m sure he will be,” just as fake a smile you held too—husband and wife—equal footing, equal qualms at the truth you didn’t accept and lies you foretold.

‘Geto-sama’ this and a ‘Geto-sama’ that— the entire reception had been torturous, you hated it—hated the man they chose not to acknowledge—hated the murderer.

All to your liking though, the car finally came to a stop, at your residence—your new home.

-

“You may sleep here,” soft a voice, too cold, however, compared to the gaze he held—it felt welcoming.

You nodded just as quietly, a good wife would never fight, they’d taught you—more important than ever for your life now depended upon so.

“Geto-Sama,” you hated the way it rolled off your tongue so smooth—meant to be, “where will you sleep?” Innocent enough a question and yet the scoff he passed under his breath was all well noticed by you.

“Not to worry you darling,” he smiled softly still, “I wouldn’t ever imagine sleeping with you,” and wrapped in his words lay the tone of condescension—hidden all so beautifully, a small round of hide-and-seek in itself.

Lips pursed, you stared at him—“Alright, drop the act, we’re alone,” the tone itself surprised you—the confidence all the more so, as you bore deep into his eyes, unwavering.

A brow cocked, he passed a smirk well of his own, “So the monkey is capable of thinking huh?”

“To call the bearer of your children a monkey, you should know your kids will be a part of me,” it was desperate really, bringing in the prospect of a future you never wanted for the sake of some respect.

A deep rumble emerged within his chest—chaos, “You think you’ll have such rights? What are you if not worth less than your father’s money?” Your face burnt at his words—hot, embarrassed, it was true.

“A reminder perhaps,” you spoke through clenched teeth—“you were the man who came begging to my father for-”

“-begging? Please,” he scoffed, “and I wanted protection not a whore to be passed around,” his words lay sharp, all so much so that the hilt of his words was enough to penetrate too mayhaps.

“Could have called yourself a celibate, Geto-Sama,” his sharp- yours blunt, impact lay the same with both—regret caused to the other.

“Are you so desperate that you are willing to fight to sleep with a strange man, all so alien to you?” There it lay, that constant lazy smile—the one he never shied to portray to his desperate followers—now, to you.

“A husband,” gritted teeth, you baree, “you are a husband now, accept the fate,” sharp inhale—sharper exhale, you simply despised him.

Annoyance hung loose in the air, an open wound to you both.

“The only fate,” he paused—ears ringing unto the sound of footsteps—his daughters’, “is the one where you’re no more but a mere shadow in my life, monkey,” disgust all so prevalent on a pretty face as his—pity, really.

“So be it,” you nodded, a lick of your lips and a deal on the tongue, “no more a legal wife am i to you,”

“Be glad you could achieve that at all,” and just as quickly the somber mood had shifted to annoyance, it was back too—as the door clasped open, the twins rushing in to meet their new found mother.

Mother—oh just how hilarious the fate’s jokes lay.

A mother—a wife—a woman for his needs.

-

A week.

A week spent in solitude, the white ceiling, a new friendship you’d found, the dark wood flooring your vice as you suffered.

Day in and day out—seconds ticked by, slowly churning out the hours and eyes that lay moist

forever remained so.

You despised it all.

His expanse and his family, his charm and his style, his maids and his followers — his daughters, ah.

Something, perhaps you didn’t hate, that belonged to Geto, did exist.

Innocent smiles, the kind you’d never worn—hefty laughter he provided them with, his pride and his joy—now yours too, mutual a partnership the marriage was.

“Y/n,” they’d murmured excitedly, Nanako had— Mimiko's shy glances and little smiles, just as endearing.

A mother you’d become, how complicated.

But fickle was your happiness, just there and often never at all.

Your heart raced, ears perked up at the voice of approaching footsteps—daughter of Suguru Geto’s best hitman, a little too many tricks lay up your sleeves themselves.

Quick, soft, padded—your servants.

Loud, racy and sudden? His daughters.

Soundless? Suguru.

Thoughts proven none but correct, Suguru did stand bearer of your observation—a frown as always on the beautiful face.

And you wondered just how prettier it could be, if only he were gagged and stuffed aside.

“Get up,” words shuffled fast—frenzied, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Why?” Defiance, slight defiance in the form of annoyance presented to him you displayed, little impact but just enough—especially when he would let out a ragged sigh, holding himself back.

“Don't question me, now is not the time.”

Your heart soared giddily at that too—“What? Your blind followers realized your reality huh?”

A sharp gaze, piercing, bore into you.

Dead, at a finger’s flick if he wanted—but then again, he didn’t, he couldn’t.

So he did the next best thing that he’d realized in a week’s worth of time- the little smirk was wiped off quick as he kneeled close to you, so close.

“Shut the fuck up,” a whisper, all too serious, curious, you looked up at him.

“Get up,”

“No.”

Your head turned to the right sharp, a swift slap he’d landed on your cheek—it didn’t hurt,

you’d faced worse after all—but oh how it hurt you.

Apathetic, he stared.

Blankly, you stared back.

A moment of silence, heavy.

“Are you dumb?”

Silence again—you wanted to rip his hair out—“Get up,”

“Why?”

His voice, almost panicked now, it was weird.

A clench of his jaw and a brush of fingers through the hair—“Monkeys like you aren’t safe here, let me take care of it.”

And somehow, it warmed your heart.

“I can fight-”

“-yes and I know you’re hunter as passed down your lineage but shut the fuck up right now,”

Dumbly, you looked—“what is it? Some…” your mouth ran dry, “some attack?”

An unamused chuckle he was quick to let go—“no,” he paused, face reigning back to all his seriousness—“wouldn’t want my pretty wife to suffer,” his words felt fake, maybe they were.

You swallowed hard—“where to?”

“My chambers,”

Your heart sunk and yet you felt a rush of serotonin.

~3 years ago~

“Y/n,” Nanako’s voice dragged, “c’mon we’ll be late!” The constant sound of typing annoyed you—squinting eyes stared at her from a distance.

“Remind me why such enthusiasm again?”

“Papa’s dealing with non-sorcerers today,”

Again-as he had been, always.

“Mama,” the word rang in your mind—Mimiko’s voice was soft in contrast — Mama, a certain ring to it, familiarized and yet so antagonized in your head.

You hummed in response simply—“Papa requests you to be there tonight…” her words trailed away, the convocation all too loud, the impact all so evident.

“Right…” you let your words hang open as well—he wanted you present, in day and light, flesh and sight—his wife to be shown off.

Every once a while, you were his lucky charm after all.

-

Crowded, nauseating, full of idiots.

A dagger rested at your side, gift from no other than your Geto-Sama, two years ago—a

wedding gift.

You hated the fact that it was the best you could’ve managed to find.

Slow, the proceedings were, lazy his smirks as the likes of you begged.

As the monkeys begged to him.

“Headaches, nauseating? Hmm,” he smiled, pensive, reflective—“sounds to me like you’re troubled,” and just so, it amused you—to how dumb humans truly were.

Fickle-minded.

“Geto-Sama,” eyes squinted at the tone of the woman, a whimper—a common whore—begging for his touch in broad sunlight, for your husband’s touch.

Sure, you hated him—but oh how you hated the fact that he touched so many other women whilst being married to you.

And somehow, you always became the other woman.

“Yes darling?” He called back coolly, your blood boiled.

“I think…think you need to…” her words trailed away, a satisfied murmur erupting through the crowd—they remembered, remembered it well.

Engraved in the memory of most what you’d only caught the gist if, even as a rumour.

Suguru had fucked her—in front of them all.

In the name of all that was holy, all that was religious—he’d sworn it would help her—it made her addicted. One drug to another, Suguru did nothing, he would do nothing today

either perhaps.

Was this why he called you?

To humiliate you such?

“Ah ah ah,” click on pf his tongue, sharp—“Not in front of your goddess, don’t flatter yourself,”

Your heart burned.

Goddess, their goddess—you were their goddess—his goddess.

Jaw clenched, you stared from the side, distaste evident upon you and her—adorable, he deemed it.

“She’s nothing-”

-silence, as quick as she’d begun, just as quickly she retreated.

Beyond livid he seemed, amazing actor surely, never one to hear words against his precious wife.

A chuckle interrupted his thoughts and yours—“Oh Geto,” the suitor—the one Suguru’d been trying to impress—the one you’d been called upon for—to hit the nail on mark. The one who would sign his deal.

A continuity of a deep rumble — relevance all so long as Geto would decide.

“You act like she matters at all,” your stomachs dropped, he was right, was he not?

“What is she? A hunter?” Another prolonged chuckle—electing those from beside you as well, your ears hurt from how hot they were.

“Just a trophy wife for you isn’t she?” Unwantedly, even in moments such—of your disrespect, your eyes gazed onto him.

You hated the helplessness but…he was yours, right?

Something about the thin smile reassured you, it wasn’t much—not an ounce of anger reflected upon his face, if he felt any, that is.

You could feel the eyes of all, not the first time you’d been presented to the assembly, the first time the ruse you played was out.

“She’s my wife,” his voice was calm, “trophy or no is none of your business—she’s priced if anything—far more than you could ever afford, so think with that thick head of yours, at least once if you can manage before you dare to look at her.”

Definite—his words were fast, surprising all the more.

The laughter halted, silence was all so deafening, “You’re defending that slut before me Geto?” Shaky, the man’s voice was held—your grip tightened on your dagger.

Suguru’s smile only ever grew right beside you, “Do you want the honors darling?” You froze on spot.

Face whipped to face him, he could see the way your face shone—“Talk to me you fucker! That bloody bitch and your cult can’t do shit without me” His words rang through the hall as he did so—your feet worked upon its own.

“Just give me those whores beside you then,” he grinned further, directing his gaze onto Nanako and Mimiko.

A nodding smile from your husband being all that you need—swift you came, swift the man fell, mere seconds.

Bloods oozed, some rested upon your cheek just as much, three stab wounds—a drowning business deal of Geto—a sailing heart of yours and his smile.

The body twitched in dismay, adrenaline coursed through you—three years since you’d last killed something living, you couldn’t the feeling.

“Dismissed,” Suguru spoke aloud, basking in the shock of his followers and alike—however, yours too.

A hunter you were, sure, but not humans.

Never humans.

A sinner—his sinner.

Your body shook, the dagger fell quick, the moment the Hall was empty, just you and Suguru inside.

“What did you have them prepare for lunch today?” Domestic as if, normal, if he’d name it—acting as if a murderer did not just happen—the man’s body was still warm.

You offered none but a soft silence—“y/n?”

You hated him.

You hated everything.

You hated how he pretended to be confused by your moral dilemma.

“Can you stop?” A hiss of a voice—“you just- I- stop!”

Small an outburst, tears trickled the verge of falling apart.

“It’s fine,” he mused, “you can let go,”

“shut up,” you whispered fast- “don’t talk to me like that- like- like you’re superior. You just made me- fuck- I-”

A step all too close he took, “come here,” softly he spoke—uncharacteristic, why now?

After three years of an empty marriage—had he found your use? A hunter for him?

Not the first time you’d cried in front of him, many a confrontations had come and gone—many a times you’d thrown empty jars at him—many times he’d threatened you, all in vain.

So why now?

Empathetic all over a night? Couldn’t be.

Your heart paced, mind hurdled- hands held onto his form tightly as he did yours, body convulsing in his embrace, your kill lay astray, forgotten.

“You’re fine,” he murmured against your head—all so close, first time. And a thought you couldn’t help but withdraw—is this how those women felt? When he held them so close to where you’d never been?

“You did as you should’ve, a great wife you are,”

Sheer shambles your heart lay in—you wanted to hate him, perhaps you did—most probably, not.

“Why?” You whispered, pressed deep into his chest—an almost soothing hand upon your back rubbed, all so confused—both him and you.

“Figured you’d like it,” he smiled, “you’re not a pawn y/n,” a fumbling kiss pressed on your forehead, the spot was now sacred.

“You’re the queen on the board and it was wrong simply to let go the potential,”

“Why all this? Why now?”

An urge to pull away, an urge to ingrain yourself in him.

An empty marriage—all too loud your desires.

“You’re their goddess aren’t you?” He didn’t sound sweet anymore, it was all real—you knew so.

-

Two weeks since your outburst, two weeks since he’d held you for the first time—two weeks, you’d suffered all so much.

Mentally, emotionally—physically.

It was absurd, you’d spent three years still, yearning just some touch—but now more so than ever, you would perhaps beg for him.

A shared bed you lay in, the heat in your heart was

scorching—nothing close however to the desire between your legs.

You craved him.

“You’ll accompany me tomorrow?” fingers clasped right around the book he was reading, he didn’t do so much as glance at you—yet, it was somehow endearing.

Gradual was the display from being ordered by his servants to show up when he pleases you to, to his daughters requesting you—to him, personally recommending it, it was sweet.

You knew you were grasping on broken ends—but just something to the fallen was miraculous enough.

You poised to think, “WAR AND PEACE”- Leo Tolstoy, hefty the handler, heftier its state, creased in the middle—whitening, pages browned years ago and a certain scent you couldn’t place.

Golden were the words still, it shone.

A simple “well?” From him broke your trance, a nod you passed.

Second time in the past fortnight, perplexed you say by, watching moments tick by, unsure.

“Should I carry the dagger?” Same question as you’d asked last week—same reply awaited you, the same cunning smile, “Just your presence is enough,”

-

“23, 594 of you,” Suguru spoke in the same sweet tone of his—a mistake his words held.

A tilt to the right, to correct him or no—you sucked in any air, perhaps your last.

“Not a simple feat it-”

“-25, 394,” your voice was low, had the crowd been that of a murmuring one, it would have gone unheard—not from him perhaps, but in general.

Not a glance spared, just a single smirk, “Ah, of course.” A lick of his lips and a look downturned, “I apologise—how sweet of my wife to remind me,”

My wife.

Amusing how you still shivered at the thought of it.

The rest of his words were a blur, his tone was hollow right after the apology—the same as you’d heard when he was upset—mad.

When he’d condemned your family.

-

“Leave,” the words seemed final, a tear rolled down your eyes.

“Geto-Sama,” your father panted, pathetic—simply so, no deniance to it.

“Please,” three days you’d been beggin, three days that Geto Suguru had stripped you all of any and every sense of dignity, of some thought of self preservation.

A scoff you heard, heart shattering—as eyes gazed onto the sight of your crawling father- a hitched breath, Suguru’s eyes lay stuck on you.

“The debt,” Suguru mused quietly, “you want it forgiven?”

Your father nodded at his feet—broken sobs your mother flushed, sister’s nimble fingers upon yours—you hated Geto Suguru.

Perhaps that was exactly why you found yourself such.

Hating his woes, his breaths and his ideology—perhaps all lay a lie.

Perhaps you hated him for the humiliation he granted that day, 6 years ago.

“You’re nothing but a monkey, you know that,” Suguru mused simply, “But you are one of my best,” a hun he passed to second himself.

Eyes, obsidian as they bore into yours—“What’s your name?”

Quick, you almost didn’t catch his words, “y/n,” your father weakly muttered before letting out a pained cry—result of none but a kick from Suguru.

“I was talking to her,” a lazy smirk he adorned, “hunter?” He inquired, a nod you passed.

“Skilled?” And that you were, having served so many over the years—skilled you simply were.

“You can have her,” your father’s words lay rushed—heart seizing up deep. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- your mother wouldn’t.

“Virgin?”

“We can offer a fine dowry lord,” pants, his—gasps, yours—“Uoull be doing us a favour, in fact two.”

The man’s face flits curiously between the two of you. You wonder if he can see the embarrassed tears threatening the corners of your eyes, the set of your lips, the way your fingers are clenching and shaking.

Your heart raced, face flushed—your parents eyes’, your sister’s, all trained upon you.

What a pity—a shake of your head, Suguru’s smirk widened as he knelt onto your level.

“Whoever would marry a used whore hm?” It was the exact smooth voice that you hated—the exact low grumble you feared.

“Fuck off,” the words were quick to slip out—perhaps, not appropriate but you regretted not a single moment.

Not your mother’s gasps or your father’s tremble or Suguru and his furrowed brows.

“You’re talking to a god,” he whispered—“I don’t worship a fraud.” Your reply was defiant—the situation was bared.

A made up god among men and a woman who would never worship him—and hence came about the dilemma when the god simply found his religion in the woman.

“Interesting,” he’d hummed then, the same smile that he wore then in the assembly, three years after your marriage.

A padded thumb reached into your cheek—wiping your tears away roughly—“I think you’ll be just as useful as your father,” he grinned, and something told you he’d use you in ways more than just a hunter.

“You’ll be a better pet right?”

Before you could gasp, before you could cry—before any sense of grief had caught you, fate had tied its strings with a man you deemed a monster—and the monster to his angel.

-

The assembly took a good while to finish, 2 hours you sat, anticipating everything.

Something told you Suguru wouldn’t go tough on you—usually, he’d have someone humiliated to no extent but…you were his better half—not you, right?

“Dismissed,” he muttered as always, you couldn’t help the squirming anymore.

The last two hours you’d suffered, the wetness in you edging onto itself at the worst time possible—everytime he’d make eye contact, every time he’d glare.

“Not you,” your heart dropped, you stood as a deer in headlight then — just about to step out of the room as everyone else had.

“Come here,”

You swallowed hard—“I- I am sorry my lord I didn’t-”

“I didn’t ask you to talk monkey,” a slight pang to the heart—two weeks of overthinking was all down the drain, it didn’t mean anything perhaps.

Slowly, you trudged over, near to his feet—as close as he’d let you for the last time.

Cold eyes met you, blank a face and hair brushed open—“kneel,” he simply commanded, most days you’d have fought back- earned yourself a reprimand but not that day.

What you had was enough already.

From your position, you stared up at him—lips parted as small breaths you let out.

A moment of silence while you watched him take off the yakuta, slender a form inside—the one you’d watched simply all too many times.

“You think you’re smart hm?” Your body shook, blame put on the coldness, you let yourself shiver—passing him a shake of the head.

“Geto-Sama I-”

“-is it that difficult an instruction?” Sharp a voice, it pierced through you, “don’t talk unless I fucking tell you to.”

A frenzied nod, any deniance to be passed onto him leaving your body as you gazed upon him, ethereal—and maybe, just maybe, the fraud of a god you hated was not all so bad a money to adore.

“Thought you looked cute correcting me hm?” Ever so serene a voice, one couldn’t almost differentiate whether he truly was upset or not.

Another shake of your head, another tug at his lips.

“No?” Squinted eyes stared at you, “then attention? You wanted attention?” Your ears felt hot pink, maybe you did.

“I wouldn’t be shocked honestly,” he paused, squatting down to your level, “your father did offer me a whore,” bottom lip clasped between your teeth, you dared not to look up at him—afraid simply of the hot tears spilling.

“What is it, hm?” A large hand raised to flick the hair of your forehead—“Jealous, are we?”

Clenched jaw, you stared at the ground—audacious he was to even question it—“but that shouldn’t be it right? A legal marriage is what you promised eh?”

Too smug his voice lay, you hated him.

His hand rested at your cheek, hot to the touch—searing cold to the testament—“what was it then? An attention seeker? Or a whore?”

A ragged breath you let out—“You think it’s hilarious?” Your eyes stared down into his, “to make a fool out of me?”

The hurt in your voice was no less than prevalent, it echoed still.

“You fuck women left and right like it’s nobody’s business-”

“-oh it is about that hm?” A short chuckle he passed, euphoric to the ear, “you are a jealous bitch after all,”

“Cut it out Suguru,”

His brows raised too, and internally—yours, at the courage of calling him such, “You don’t respect me but at least respect the wedding,”

“With a monkey?” It angered you as to how deep just a couple of his words could cut—‘a monkey’ you’d never be his equal.

“Yes, with a monkey—with your wife—with the woman your daughters seek a mother in,” quick you spoke—desperate to get it all out—“The woman you’ve turned into a murderer,”

Another short laugh.

“And now it’s about that is it?”

Your blood boiled—to see him treating it all so insignificantly, “you made me-”

“-made you kill him? You killed a monkey darling, an animal of incoherent thinking. You should be glad. If anything I did you favors by granting you the opportunity to regain your skills, which are impeccable if I may,”

A tug here, a tug there— your heart was torn at his words.

“Further, you liked it—you like everything I do,”

A desperate no spilled of your lips—meaningless.

Maybe you did like it—maybe you did like the way he took you away from that monster of a father, maybe you did like the way he isolated you, gave you all to hone your skills and what not, maybe you did like the little shows of affection because you were starved.

Maybe you were simply naive.

A series of clicking sounds of his tongue entered your ears—“you create ruckus over such things hm darling?” He got up again, “calls for a punishment doesn’t it?”

A final plea you passed—broken.

“Suguru please,” shaky, “I just- you can’t fuck women like that, the servants spread rumours and- and- its all so-”

“Strip and get on all fours,” lower an octave, his voice was serious, you bit your lips and complied.

No other choice-dead at his feet otherwise, with a fate worse.

Slow, your fingers moved to take off all that was left of your decency—never the first time that you’d stripped for a man, but the first time you felt the lingering gaze.

All down to the matching set of lingerie that he’d gifted you—every once in a while as he did, a sought compensation for his actions mayhaps.

“Faster unless you wish to lengthen your punishment?” A quick shake of your head, your face felt hot, fingers twisted into the waistband of your panties —silk and lacy, almost As if innocent—as you slowly pulled them your lower half, feet tugging them off.

Bra forced away the same, shame enveloped you—not strong enough for all of you stood exposed, a cry of mercy to the god all in vain—for all too apparent, your supposed god was a fraud.

A step taken slow towards Suguru, you were interrupted with a cough—“You’re a what y/n?”

Mind blank, you stared dumbly—and exasperated sigh he let out until you finally responded, “A monkey,”

A nod of encouragement, he smirked, “and monkeys don’t walk right?”

Heights of your shame were peaking with every second passed, no other option to substitute, you nodded back—down on all fours as you crawled over to him.

The carpet was coarse underneath your knees, it hurt—not more so than your mind.

“Already so pliant sweetheart,” too giddy a voice, you wanted to punch him—but perhaps this was far better than what that would entail.

You reached over to him shortly, “only had you been all so quiet from the very beginning…but oh how does it matter now,” a grin sounded to your ears—you wanted to cry.

“All so naked,” he was walking about you now—all so exposed you stood, “so vulnerable—is this what you wanted?”

Your ears burned.

“Jealous of the women I fuck in front of my followers right? Would you want to be fucked the same? I could summon them now—” another short chuckle, “their god with their goddess.”

You swallowed hard, lips licked as you awaited—unsure of what he could do.

“Tell me, does the thought make you wet?”

“No,” lies—you knew it, and you hated yourself at that.

A hum sincere, was all he passed—“alright then. Since you do love running your mouth all so much, your tongue and hands—”

Your ears ringed as the sight of the man you’d killed flashed in front of you—“25 strokes.”

Eyes wide you stared at the ground.

A silence awaited his words and he sighed loudly.

“Say yes or does my whore want more?”

Another silence—soon he was right ahead of you—a sharp slap soon adding to the sting on your face.

Tears took no time, resting at the verge—you stared up at him, broken a voice meeting him.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered softly—trembling at the look of it—not even sure what the apology was for.

“Please please please don’t I can’t-” and somewhere along your blurred sight, his eyes softened all too little—“15.” He decided silently.

You nodded, knowing the bargain had gone deep— lowering your head, unsure of the entirety.

“Spread your legs,” he murmured, you winced slightly as you did so—the texture of the carpet felt rough—your predicament all the more.

“Count and thank me after each,” and all before you could agree— smack! The first smack struck hard.

Your eyes widened and a sharp inhale—“One—thank you Geto-Sama,” he nodded in confinement, satisfied Mayhaps, to your words.

His hand rested along the round of your ass—squeezing it, feeling it around—another smack alternated on the other cheek—“Two! Thank you Geto-Sama,”

Another squeeze—another exhale, you could feel your wetness spread.

The third strike was on the same spot as before—a pink tint added already to your ass, he adored the way you felt in his hand—“Three— thank you Geto-sa-! Ah!” You bit hard onto your lip as in the midst of your count he landed another strike at the same spot and another.

“F-four and five! Thank you Geto-Sama,” a ‘good girl’ he murmured right after, and even such—humiliated to all accords, his praise did none but cause you to feel butterflies right there.

And just there you also hated how his slaps could provide you the pleasure you hadn’t been able to.

The same cycle went on, remaining 9 spanks hit hard as before— a grab and squeeze offered in the midst of each.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss one of your reddened cheeks—warm to his lips as his other hand smacked onto the other cheek.

“Spread your legs further,” and you did, afraid to upset him anymore.

And all to your surprise, suddenly you felt a finger probe your pussy lips—beyond ashamed you could help the weak whimper and desperate cry from escaping.

“Tch tch tch,” another sharp smack on your ass, “So wet? From a spanking?”

Another whimper as your head only ever lowered in response—“or was it thought of getting off in public huh?” You could feel his tough hands tease you, he wouldn’t enter, no—just tease your slit for the hell of it.

“So pathetically turned on f’me,” he groaned—face up right against your gaping hole, inhaling sharply and taking in your scent.

“N-no,” you protested, halted only by another mean slap on your ass—“Don’t lie to the man you worship,” another nod, he’d already broken you.

The pretend disappointment was sheerly evident in his voice—his expressions, “Well I cannot really move further until you’re punished thoroughly darling,” his words sounded almost calming, even when you knew they were all so not.

The tip of his fingers were slow, slowly gliding across your glistening pussy—your inner thigh—squelch!

Eyes wide, a gasp erupted from your mouth as his large palm landed flat against your folds.

“I don’t think it’s your fault however, it’s her issue isn’t it?” Words so sweet, you only ever could think of succumbing to him—finally passing a weak nod.

“Ah ha,” he smiled to himself—impressed perhaps—“That’s a smart girl, now how many do you think are appropriate for her hm?” As he spoke, his fingers wouldn’t be called shy in the way they inspected you—gathering your slick from your hole, never entering enough to please, and leading it up to your asshole—dirty.

A sense of dread coursed through you, involuntarily you tried turn around to beg him not to—another sharp slap, a sob from you.

“5?” Your voice was soft—and somehow, even in his moments of pure power Suguru couldn’t help but want to be kind to you.

And this time, he hated it.

“5 it is,” he murmured, pressing his fingers upright to your pussy lips—“Count, no need to thank this time,”

Slowly his hands already your thighs further apart—shame no more a blanket, you could only moan at the shy touches to your core.

His hands stroked your inner thighs slowly—easing you out, you knew the trick of course, as a hunter must and even then a sharp inhale and “sh-it,” you spoke as his hand Landed on your pussy.

“One,” you called out meekly, and unlike the slaps he used to redden your ass, these weren’t all so pleasurable.

Without a word he landed another—your body lurched forward just the slightest—“Two!” Your voice trembled at his touch, especially in the way he dragged his fingers all so close to your clit and then landed the third spank.

“You’re taking it so good sweetheart,” a mess, a sincere mess is all you were—breaking apart at his touch and words- all so unsure of how you felt.

The last two Spanks were a blur, broken sobs eliciting your throat at them too as finally Suguru caressed your hips— held it soft, smothered it with slight kisses—as if he cared.

“Think you deserve a reward now, monkey?” A whine escaped you at the reference to the animal he deemed everyone else as—and yet another “Yes please,”

You knew better than to hope he’d have pleased you but all how it went, you could help the slight disappointment in you when he sat across you—spreading his legs.

An amused chuckle he let out at your expressions—“You really didn’t think I’d touch a used up pussy as yours eh?”

He would—oh how he desperately wanted to—your eyes remained down cast.

“C’mere be a good slut and get me off,” hesitant was the way you crawled over to him nestling yourself between his legs—hesitant, yes but eager all the more.

And just the same his other followers felt engulfed by the need to please him.

Fingers fumbled with his belt for a second before a raised brow from him stopped you—“did I tell you to take it off?”

Your breath hitched- confused you gazed up to meet an annoyed expression, “Do only as much as you’re told to, don’t true that pretty mind of yours.”

All the encouragement you needed as you slowly raised your face up to his crotch—“Go on,” he murmured, placing his hand at the back of your head—and just so you found your face pressed hard against his crotch, taking in the musky smell— your eyes watered with the pressure he held you with, your pussy grew wetter with the avoidance he lay.

Soft whines you let out against the thin fabric of his underpants as your fingers gripped onto his toned thighs.

You could feel the thick outline of his dick—not that you lay experienced much but that would certainly be big as it went.

His hand stroked your hair softly and pulled you away too—“pull them down,” he ordered and fervently your fingers pulled the waist of the only fabric covering him down—his hardened dick spring out at once.

You fought all urges to touch it at once—looking right into his eyes, awaiting any command.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he shifted his hips to angle himself better—“Tongue out,” he muttered softly, staring at your face.

Adorable to him.

On your knees you say, tongue out and mouth wide as you watched him drag the tip of his cock and slap it against your cheeks twice—demeaning you usually would’ve found it—now you craved it dearly.

Three slaps he lay on your tongue from his tip still—plap! Plap! Plap!— salty it tasted, his Precum.

“Take it all in,” none to your surprise, you were quick to try your best—you know you couldn’t, but to try was the way to go.

“Don’t suck just yet,” he commanded, as his dick lay inside the warmth of your mouth—you wanted to gag immediately, pull away.

“Keep it there,” he whispered, the large hand gayab at the back of your throat, keeping you from pulling away.

Tears were quick to rush down your cheeks as you struggled to gag—the slight pull and an annoyed glare from him.

All too quick he pulled out of your mouth.

“Don’t fucking pull away,” a warning, “cry all you want—fucking throw up from gagging I don’t care, but don’t pull away,” you nodded through your tears as you took a second to catch your breath.

“Again,” he said and again, you began.

It was tough to breathe, yes, and hard not to pull away but a look at his blissful face and you couldn’t help it—“start sucking, slow,”

And that you did, tears dried as more came a afresh, you sucked slowly onto his tip and length—weak whimpers seemed guttural as you rocked your face back and forth onto his length.

“You know why- ha- ah,” he paused, moaning, as you teased him slight, “I let you do this?”

His eyes scanned your pretty face, sucking him all so good—trying your best to please him.

“So you remember that mine is the hand that feeds you,” just then his hands balled up your hair into a fist, rough, he pulled you.

“So you- shit! Suckin’ me like the slut you are huh?” Broken gasps he let out as well as he pushed his length down your throat.

As much as you hated him having the reigns, to see him lose composure was a beautiful process.

“That feels so fucking good — ahah — I'm not pleased with you fuck j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take your master’s cock like you're meant to."

You couldn’t see from down there, his eyes rolling back but you knew it was tough for him to sit still—god how you loved it.

“Listen darling,” he began yet again—his fist was quick to pull your face away from his cock, all to yours and his displeasure.

He held you by the hair—a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick hung loosely.

“Always fucking remember that you’re the one begging to be fed by me—not the other fucking way around,” you wanted to nod but all that let out was small whines.

“Geto-Sama, please,” you cried, “pleasepleaseplease let me- fuck- let me help. Want you to- to mark me? Please will you?”

Suguru fought hard to suppress the moan he wanted to out—he hated that he loved seeing you this way—he hated how he wanted to see you such everyday.

He hated how for the past three years he’d wanted this but how he loved you.

Oh how he loved his silly.

And just as that his length was shoved deep into your mouth again—and internal conflict in his mind as he face fucked you senseless—he just wanted you carnally and you, him.

Not long did it take before you knew he was close.

“Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that mouth, stuff it so good not a drop spills out.”

And at that, without another word he came inside—a warm gush in your mouth as you struggled to keep it all in—to please him—hot and sticky as he slowly pulled out of your mouth.

“So pretty,” he murmured as his fingers tapped your cheek—hinting at you to swallow it all.

-

Suguru watched as your tired body panted and lay still on his form—head resting against his thigh.

A soft hand brushed through your hair, a gentle smile as he wrapped the Yakuta around your naked body.

In hindsight, maybe he would regret it—but in the present of this entirely, he loved it.

He loved you.

Two weeks, suguru’s heart had churned—perhaps more than yours—to have you lay against him for the past three years was no issue, not until he knew your heart was opening up to him.

And something in him fought him to have him now that that, was a bad idea.

He realized now that, that something was all too stupid a thought—especially when he could now carry your body softly, pressed up against his chest as he Carried you to the shared chambers, his chambers.

Oh how he loved you being his.

A monkey—his mind called out, the woman I love, his heart snapped back.

It was confusing, to him and you and everyone around—that he was all so enamored by you—nothing more of a simple hunter you were, skilled yes, but it wouldn’t add up.

But then he’d look at the serene expression on your face as he slept and everything senseless would fall back—as he fell in love a little more when your fingers clasped onto his when he was pulling away.

~now~

Day and night.

Slowly they passed.

The first year, then the second and then third—all the way to five years and there you sat, right beside him, regal.

Don’t get me wrong, you perhaps still hate him and he despises you too—but it is in the certain way, that every third night you’re clamping down on his form and he holds you softly right after—“I love you” muttered by neither.

-

He wasn’t sure on to why it was the way it was.

He hated monkeys, you were one—so equally, he must also hate you—and yet, his heart ached the day your father thrust your hand into his.

He’d seen you before that day still, running about, aloof—you enjoyed your craft—he’d enjoyed seeing you do so. Marriage to him was simply a barrier to your skills—he knew that, and yet not being married to him was a barrier to mayhaps a comfortable life.

Never before Had Suguru pitied monkeys such—and yet, to the see the tears roll down your eyes, he felt captivated.

In the way the silence of his halls was dimmed when his daughters would call for you—in the way you unnecessarily commanded his house—as if you held that power.

But then, mostly you did.

In the way you held pillows all too close to yourself to feel some warmth—in the way you used the pillows as a means of a boundary between the two.

In the way you forced yourself to hate him, in the way you whimpered against his touch.

Everything.

And anything.

All he knew deep down was he wanted you happy, with him and often, without him.

-

“Do you know this man?” The words rolled off his tongue smooth, you stared intently at the man bowing at your feet.

“No,” words were often simple lies when you stood beside him in that assembly, the man, once referred to as your father, inhaled sharp at your words.

Suguru’s smirk only widened—your mother and sister long gone perhaps, you didn’t know, you didn’t care.

Suguru never let you care.

“He’s committed a crime,” Suguru motioned to the crowd awaiting—“A dire crime,” his eyes now trained upon you—“And as always, our goddess here will help us ride of it, yes?”

Not the first time you’d been asked—two years, the first murder you’d committed and since then, that’s how Suguru used you.

The best hunter he had, his prized one.

His hand wound around you softly, a creep to your abdomen—“wanna play a game?”

The blood inside you rushed—it didn’t matter.

None of it.

You’d killed plenty monkeys, Suguru adored you simply as you did and you did too—but today was different.

Today, stood in front of you, a true criminal.

Blood of monkeys never bothered you—you were their deity, Suguru had reminded you every time you cried—they were honored to die at your hands.

The wood that surrounded you was thick—beautiful really, especially for a game of hide-and-seek.

A shove he passed to your father, rough—“Run,” he ordered, dark eyes softening as they landed upon you.

“Kill him in 2 hours and I’ll let take over tonight,” a smile sketched onto your lips—“and if not…” a similar smile etched onto

his.

-

Legs sprawled beside his head—your fingers clutched hard onto the sheet beneath.

“Suguru,” your voice drew out—a whine, “Please…” you cried out softly as his tongue lapped onto your clit.

“Please what darling?” A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh—another whine.

“I was just 7 minutes late,” your dirtied clothes lay away forgotten—the neat white towels he’d used to wipe the blood off of you—used to cleanse and purify you again lay just beside his head as you tugged on hair harshly.

A soft giggle he let out—“7 minutes too late baby- you knew the punishment right? Let me edge you thrice more now, be a good pet.”

And another giggle he passed, eliciting a sharp cry of his name when he pressed his tongue flat on your clit.

And Suguru loved this, so Did you.

Your god and his goddess.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

Tags: @illogicallyx @myrand0mfand0mbl0g @rizzmin @lavendervogh @kazoomas @gojoismybitch @mistyheart @spaceisfarfarawayy @4sat0ruu @isentsworld @gl0ri0us-l0ve @playboicartina @hiomi-hiomi @misaki-the-lotusflower @abitoldschool @immurrsed @bbytamaki @hqkalon (no because thanks for the amazing words frfr)

#geto x reader #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #suguru geto #getou x reader #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto x y/n #geto suguru #getosuguru #getou suguru #suguru geto x reader #sugurugeto #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru smut #getou suguru x you #jjk suguru #getou suguru smut #getou suguru x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut

[aidulusion]

GNOME ATTACK

pairing : george weasley x fem!reader

word count : 1k

summary : it's your first day at the burrow, and you need to clear out gnomes from the garden with your friends.

proofread? : yes.

creds to plutism for the divider!

You had befriended two mischief makers during your life at Hogwarts—Fred and George. The first time you met them was when they fed a first year some candy which resulted in the poor kid to start vomiting out the dinner he had.

You thought about that incident up till today, even while writing a letter to the better looking twin, that is, George. 

He had invited you to stay over at his house for the summer, and you were more than happy to spend some more time with your best friends. It took a lot of begging for your parents to finally allow you to do the same, but you succeeded in the end.

————

It was the day you were going to leave for the burrow, your father didn’t let you use floo powder and put the responsibility of dropping you upon himself.

You packed all your bags, finally got your owl to get in his cage, and went downstairs to chug two slices of bread down your throat because you were way too impatient to see your friends once again.

Your father was waiting outside, you said your goodbyes to your mother and exited your house, a bright smile on your face.

————

“If you need anything, just send me an owl.” your dad smiled. The both of you were standing in front of the burrow, all your luggage in your hands.

You nodded, and hugged him before knocking on the door, your dad had left by now.

As soon as the doors opened, you were greeted with the warmest hug ever, which was given by Fred and George’s mother—Molly.

“Hello dear! (Y/N), am I right? Fred and George talk about you all the time!” She exclaimed gleefully, you were completely heartwarmed by how nice their mother was to you.

She guided you inside, the burrow was small, yet it was all warm and cozy inside. You saw many familiar faces, and it turned out Harry and Hermione were there too. 

After settling down, you sat down on a couch, talking to Ginny. It didn’t take long for the both of you to start hearing a strange rustling sound, turns out it were just your two friends making their way downstairs.

“(Y/N)! Can’t believe you actually came!” One said loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.

“—We really missed you!” The other one added. 

You smiled as they embraced you in a  warm hug, you were just as happy to see them as they were to see you.

Ginny interrupted the moment, sighing softly.

“Sorry to interrupt the moment, but mom told you both to clear out the gnomes in the garden.”

She sighed again, looking at the twins. Both of them groaned in annoyance, George looked at you, before looking back at Ginny.

“Can’t we do it later? (Y/N) just came!” George pouted, hoping Ginny will make up some reason to cover up for him and his brother.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t like it if mom gave you chores the moment Harry came, eh?” Fred added, snickering to himself.

“Shut up, Fred!” Ginny shouted at him.

You just watched the whole scene unfold, looking at the twins then back at Ginny as they bickered endlessly.

“How about I help you both clear out the gnomes? It’d still be the same as spending time together.” You questioned them both, a soft smile plastered on your face.

“That’s a great idea!” Ginny smiled at me, before looking back at the two gingers. Their faces were brightening up as well, before they grabbed you and dragged you out of the house and to the garden.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this, gnomes don’t usually find their way in my garden..” You mumbled, quite embarrassed by yourself.

“It’s fine, love! You just need to toss them far enough to not come back.” George explained, while Fred quickly got to work.

When you finally understood what to do, you went for your first gnome. You pulled it by the hand and threw it quite far away. Both of them watched in awe as the gnome flew to a nearby hill, looking back at you once a loud thud was heard from the same.

“What a fast learner!” Both of them sneered at the same time. Those words just boosted your ego even more, you grabbed another gnome and threw it as far as you could..

It was easier than you thought, there were only a few more gnomes left and you could go back and have fun with the rest of the Weasley family, not that you weren’t enjoying this.

Unfortunately, the last gnome which you grabbed was rather a feral one. It freed itself from your grasp and found itself on your face. 

The twins immediately started laughing as the gnome rapidly smacked your face. You were struggling to get it off, but the grip it had on your ears was intense. All you could do was punch the gnome back, as your two friends continued to laugh their brains out, you fell on your back while punching the gnome uncontrollably.

While Fred still continued to snicker, George finally helped you out. Removing the gnome carefully so it didn’t rip your ears out, he tried to control his laugh when he saw your reddened face from all the fighting.

“There there, sweetheart. The immense battle is over now.” He cooed, caressing your cheek which was slightly bruised from the gnome's sharp teeth. You slapped his hand away playfully as you stood up on your own. Groaning slightly as you touched your left cheek.

“Don’t call me sweetheart when all you do is laugh when I’m getting attacked, even if it's a gnome!” You hissed, but there was still a hint of playfulness in your tone. He just started laughing again, causing you to turn your head and go back to the burrow.

What a great way to start your summer, you have a forever fear of gnomes now and you won’t go near an infested garden ever again.

exams coming up. a very very good luck to me and everyone else who have exams next week 😭

#harry potter fandom #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #george weasley #george weasly x reader #george weasely smut #george wealsey x reader #weasley twins #ginny weasley

[leesjuicycalves]

*Isn't he lovely?

As the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains of your room, illuminating a soft melancholic glow in it you shifted under the covers dreading on why you hadn’t draped them the previous night. The light was the last thing you wanted to see, really! Groaning in irritation and exhaustion you decided against your desires and left the bed in a freakishly slow pace only to be met with dizziness and drowsiness, the weight of your own body pulling you right back in bed as you fell with a soft thud. Okay, maybe having four bottles of beer alone in your dark room before bed wasn’t a good idea. With shaky hands you reach out for the glass of water that is dangerously sitting on your nightstand to parch your dry throat. Your body doesn’t give you a break even then, your head pounding hard like a relentless drumbeat. Yeah, drinking before bed was really not a smart idea. Well your month ago self would have told you that, but you caged her in. The current you doesn’t give a shit about the consequences of your actions and is sure you are gonna do the same again tonight, just like you’ve been doing for the past weeks. You lazily drag yourself downstairs kicking away the empty bottles of beer scattered on the floor so you can try and have breakfast. Keyword, try. Nothing tastes good to you anymore, nothing but beer and your little fried cashew nuts. That’s what you’ve been living on for the past month. Even as you scan your kitchen for something healthier, your hands automatically grab the last bag of cashews you have left and a bottle of beer in the fridge and you head over to the couch. Where you’ll be spending your day and then head right back upstairs to finish the last few bottles of beer you have.

There’s a crappy show playing on your TV that you don’t even remember playing the previous night, a woman, probably the main character, smiling to herself yapping something in her monologue about being content that she’s glad she has someone who could care for her, love her and cherish her. To be cared for, you didn’t know how that felt.

When the year began you thought you’d have your life fully under control. No storms, no emotional outbursts, just a smooth life and probably a happy one too. It begun like that actually, it began with you finding love, finding someone that could understand you. Having Minho in your life was as great as you’d have imagined; he was sweet, kind, hot and sexy. Basically the type of guys you were into. You had everything under control as the year began, smooth sailing and all, with Minho by your side. But then you started to feel overwhelmed, falling victim under the suffocating weight of expectations and obligations particularly from your mother who seemed to be short of lacking criticism in any sort of thing. She always had something to complain about, something to observe and put in her views and perspectives. One day it would be about how you don’t call them often anymore, or how you’ve been too much in social media; with the posts your uploading instead of working, and on the days she had that ‘mother attitude’ it would be to comment on how your boyfriend looks more like a fuckboy rather than a life partner and how you take care of him and the strangers in the city more than them.

But you did take care of them, you really did. From the day you got your first salary, your first paycheck. Heck you’ve been taking care of them ever since you realized how far your roles of the eldest daughter go. You always listened when she complained about how her business is not doing okay, about how she’s running low on sales stocks and about how stingy her husband is. Always listened when she said she had no sister figure in her life to share stuff with but now she can do that with her daughter. Always listened when she talked about how well your sisters were doing in college and high school. Always listened when she made comments on how fat or thin you’ve gotten. You always listened. Your dad, you were close with each other, had nothing much to complain about him. He was just an over achiever and too much of a planner perfectionist.

“You should have stayed back here Y/N instead of going to the city. That spot in that law firm my friend once offered me is still free. You could make a lot out of it, there’s nothing serious out there if you ask me. This was a sure bet job sweetie.” He had said one day through a phone call that was supposed to be you telling him the exciting news of how you won your first case in a while. He was the kind of person that always wanted things to go according to his plans.

Your sisters would call you day in and out, talking about their days in school. Saying how they wished they had so and so, how mom and dad are still as stingy as ever since you moved away from home. How their allowances got reduced. How they wished they were you and had the freedom to do whatever they wanted.

But did you even want to be you at this point? Everything was beginning to feel like it was too much, too little, not right. Maybe your dad was right, you should have stayed back with them and taken the offer he had given you since there were no more job offers for you that seemed to be coming up. Maybe your mom was also right, you don’t take care of them enough, you have to do more, you have to be more.

But when would they listen to you, when would they stand by what you chose for once, when would they appreciate what you’ve already done or at least tried to do even if it was just a little bit? When would they also listen to what you have to say? When would they take care of you in that way?

Sure you had Minho but he was also a man of his own before you, he also had a family that needed him, he also had stuff going on. You weren’t his 24 hour responsibility. Knowing how this overwhelming feeling felt made you not wanna dump it on someone else, you’d rather handle it on your own just as you’ve always done. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past month, handling your situation. You had had blacklisted your parents and sisters not wanting to hear from them anymore, just for the while, until you got your shit back together. Hidden yourself from the world since you basically hadn’t picked any calls from your friends or even Minho, not gone outside for the past weeks, not breathed in that fresh cool air from outside. You were under house arrest, by your own will. The only logical way for you to handle your situation.

The silence in your room strings you away from your thoughts, the TV is dead silent and the lights in the kitchen were off. Maybe there was a power surge or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t paid this month’s electricity bill. You couldn’t care less anyways since you found the dark way more comforting these days.

Your cashews are done, there’s nothing left in the package. Your beer is halfway done too and you have to pee but you don’t feel like getting up from the comfortable position you’re in on the couch. “Guess I’ll just have to if I don’t wanna ruin my couch,” again you move at a really slow pace heading for the bathroom to ease yourself.

“Darn it with the fucking lights,” is the first thing that slips from your mouth when you walk down the hallway back to the living room. You hear clanking noises coming from the kitchen and you are slightly shocked to find Minho standing in front of your kitchen sink wearing your lavender apron and doing you’re two weeks old or so dishes. He seemed to be too immersed in whatever he was doing to even notice your disheveled-self standing there, you take a quick glance at yourself and realize how pathetic you look in your baggy blue sweats, your stained t shirt and your tangled up dry and obviously dirty hair. You clear your throat in a low but audible voice and Minho turns to look at you only after he’s finished the washing the last dish in the sink. He stares at you for a whole minute without saying anything, the two of you awkwardly standing there in the kitchen area. He blinks once, twice, thrice then a couple of more times under the long bangs of his hair and mutters a hello which you return with a curt nod. He turns away from you and proceeds to move about in the kitchen. ‘It’s been that long?’ You think to yourself, you stare back at Minho. He grew his hair out, you’ve been away for so fucking long that he grew his hair out. You retrieve your eyes from him and decide to go back to the couch seeing that you had nothing to say to each other.

He cleaned the living room coffee table, in that short amount of time you went to the bathroom, he cleaned it all. The beer you had left earlier was no longer there and your empty nut bag was gone. You glance over at Minho in the kitchen and sigh, maybe the TV is working now that the lights are back on. You scroll the available channels and decide to stop at one that has its program read; Just for Laughs but youre too lost in youre thoughts once again to concentrate on what’s playing. Minho probably thinks you’re a loser, he probably thinks youre a burden. A dirty lazy burden that he has for a girlfriend who can’t even take care of herself alone. He probably wants to end things, you don’t deserve him. He needs better, he needs someone who can handle their shit in a mature way. You look down at your stained shirt once again and sigh. He definitely deserves better than this, better than you. You know you’ve inconvenienced his schedule by making him be here, he had better, important things to do. Why is he here in the first place?

Before your thoughts go on any further, you feel a presence loom over you and a delicious smell of freshly made food hits your nostrils.

“Eat this, you need it.” Minho says in a stern but soft voice handing you the bowl.

You don’t look up at him because you’re afraid you’ll cry when you do, so you just keep staring at your feet and shake your head no. You hear him sigh and it just makes your thoughts spiral the more. You see his feet move about and the in the next minute he is sitting on the floor and looking at you from below. You turn away quickly but not quick enough as he pulls your chin to face him again with a spoonful of his homemade meal in front of your mouth, he gives you a stern look and you have no choice but to open your mouth and take what he gives you. The both of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, the room only filled with the sound of you chewing and swallowing and the sounds of the spoon hitting the glass bowl every time Minho scoops another portion until you’ve completely emptied the bowl. He then gets up to get you glass of water and disappears upstairs leaving you alone with your thoughts again.

“Did you shower today?” Minho asks when he comes back down stairs a little sweat dripping from his forehead, is long bangs sticking to it and a plastic bag in his hands filled with your empty beer bottles. You timidly shake your head embarrassed of your state. He makes haste to dispose the bag and comes right back inside to lead you up to you room.

“I can bathe myself,” is what you tell Minho when you see him take his clothes off.

“I need a shower too. Am all sweaty from cleaning those smelly beer bottles,” he says, with no malice or disgust really, just a plain comment but you wince at that statement and only hum taking off your dirty outfit. You turn your back on him hoping he’s not looking at you. You’ve lost weight, your collar bone is more prominent, you don’t want him to see you like that he might get more disgusted; you think. You very slowly slide your sweats off your legs and squat by your bed to fold it even though it’s going in the hamper. Minho is still shuffling around the room probably putting a towel on. You want him to take a shower first and leave you alone in the bathroom to probably cry out the tears you’ve been holding back ever since he came to you today but he has other plans.

He comes right behind you and snatches the piece of clothing that is neatly folded and sitting still on your bed with your shaky fingers still pressing over it. He throws it into the hamper beside him.

“That’s no use, get up,” and you do while trying to cover up you’re naked self with the knee length towel you have on but Minho tosses it on the bed seeing no use of keeping it on. You both make it into the bathroom where the beautiful scent of lavender and vanilla engulfs your senses, the room aglow with soft candlelight casting and flickering shadows on the wall making it feel like a sanctuary of relaxation.  You turn to face Minho who smiles at you softly and gestures you to step into the bathtub adorned with radiant jasmine petals floating delicately on the bubbled water. You sink into the lukewarm water and your shoulders instantly relax, you close your eyes and sigh in ease feeling a wave of tranquility wash over you. Something you haven’t felt in days. Minho lovingly stares at you by the bathroom door his eyes shimmering with happiness to see you at ease, his heart filling with satisfaction and pride. Your eyes shoot open when you feel the water move and Minho sits in front of you, his hands search yours under the water and he holds them tight fearing he might lose you if he lets go. His feline eyes stare into your soul telling you in every way how he missed you and how he loves you more than he has ever done anyone in his lifetime. His eyes tell you how important you are too him and how he wouldn’t know how to move on without you in his life, his touch speaks multitude of the depth of affection he has for you, the security he’s willing to offer you, that you crave for.

And you cage, completely crashing. Tears begin to violently flow from your eyes as tiny sobs escape your lips mumbling bits of ‘am sorry’ and ‘thank yous’ to him but he doesn’t let you cry quickly pressing his forehead onto yours as his thumbs wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

“No matter what, I’ll always be here. Waiting to take care of you to cherish you and keep you safe. I’ll carry your burdens for you no matter what, mmh?” He tells you softly and you can feel the truth in his voice, the firmness and dedication of his words. You cry harder, full on weeping on his bare chest and this time he decides to let you do so rubbing soothing circles on your back and gently stroking your hair occasionally pouring water on your back with the small of his hand. And after you’re done crying he kisses you so sweetly, so softly, as if you were a glass doll that would break if he were to press harder on your lips.  He kisses the overwhelming feelings away, he kisses the stress away and erases the weight of the world, your worries and your fears. His kiss is another reassuring promise of comfort in the midst of your chaos. His lips brush against yours and the world seems to be on pause, there’s nothing more you feel at the moment apart from him, his warmth, his soft touch, his love.

Minho pulls you closer to him so that you are fully sitting on his lap under the jasmine bubbles, youre lips detach from his and he pecks your nose and flashes you a smile showing his two front bunny teeth and you mirror his smile feeling like a whole new person. He suddenly stands with you still in his arms but his grip on your thighs tighter than before and steps out of the tub whilst peppering soft kisses on all over your face eliciting giggles from you.

“Min, we’re wet don’t-” you try to protest as he lays you on your bed not willing to part his lips from your body.

“I missed you so much, let me take care of you,” he says in a husky voice his lips trailing lower and stopping at the bridge of your breasts to look up at you and you now see how his eyes are brazen with lust. Seeing that you had no oppositions to his current actions he went ahead and took one of your breasts in his mouth sucking and kissing all over, his front teeth lightly nibbling on your hardened nipple. His other hand delicately pinching your other nipple twisting and turning it between his thumb and index finger. His touch made you quite sensitive since it truly had been long since you felt him in this sense. You don’t get much time to relish in the feeling of his lips on your breasts as you feel his tongue glide past your tummy and stop just on top of your waist.

“So pretty,” he coos as his fingers spread your slick wet folds flicking at it now and then.

“M-min,” you breath out not really knowing what you want him to do, your brain completely fuzzy with lust and desires. But he knows exactly what you need and he gives you that. His tongues delves right into your leaking cunt and he licks and sucks like a starved man, which in true sense he was. Not being able to hear from you or see you for an entire month had made him worried sick out of his mind, he had missed you, had missed every aspect of you. And now that he had you, he would show you, he would make you feel how he’d missed you so much.

“So sweet love, so fucking sweet,” he mumbles against you and you cum instantly with a loud cry of his name, but that doesn’t make him stop. Minho continues to lap at your folds taking in every drop of your release making you squirm above him as you try to push his head away. “Sens-sensitive Minho. Mmmh,” you cry out and he only looks up when he’s sure he is done and had enough of you, for now.

“I love you, so much.” He speaks against your lips and kisses them more fervently tongue gliding over your lip asking for entrance and as soon you grant him that, he sucks on your tongue even harder. His hands don’t stay in one place, roaming your body, groping any piece of flesh that is able to fit in his hand. He has his hand on your breasts, your thighs, your tummy and your ass. Your hands too caress his soft firm chest and back, gripping the hairs on the back of his neck each time he sucks on your lips and tongue. They glide all over his body then your fingertips brush past his tip and he winces biting your tongue and the sound you make after that makes him harder than he already was.

“Baby, I need you. Fucking now,”

“Me too Min, please,” you say in a desperate whine now fully grabbing at the base of his crotch.

Minho was definitely gonna show you how much he missed you, savor every part of you, make you feel what you really were to him. Special and important, and he wanted to make sure that by the end of it all you knew. He quickly turned so that now you were above him, your folds grazing his thick pink leaking tip. As you were about to lower yourself on his waiting dick he spun you around so that your ass was facing him and you were directly looking into the floor length mirror in front of your bed.

“Min-Minho, lemme look at you. I wanna see you,” you say hesitantly as you try to get back to your previous position but Minho pushes you down and the tip of his shaft pokes at your hole. “F-fuck!”

“I want you to see how pretty you are and how you deserve to be taken care of. You need to see how I take care of you,” he says so calmly as if he isn’t sinking his cock into your tight wet cunt. You mewl at his words and grip on his thick thighs as he slides you down further into his cock, his gaze is intent on the scene before him. Your body is jerked forward so that your back is slightly arching and Minho gets a first row sit to how you are taking him so well.

“Fuck, youre so fucking tight,” he grunts as youre now completely on top of him. You on the other hand are struggling between keeping your vision away from the mirror and not screaming at the fullness of Minho. He then pulls you back softly by the back of your neck and you lay your head on his shoulder, mouth hanging open groaning in pure pleasure.

“Baby, open your eyes for me,” he coos right against your ears and you have no choice but to do so, you are met with the erotic sight of your naked body against his, his hands holding both your breasts and squeezing them promptly each time he thrusted into you.

“You….are perfect…and deserve to be taken care of,” he thrusts into you with a grunt, “You deserve the whole world and back and I’ll give you all that baby” he thrusts harder than the last time and you mewl biting your lower lip. His left hand leaves your breasts and comes to gently caress your folds.

“Let me hear you baby.” You moan out his name the minute he lightly pinches your clit and that encourages him to rub faster and thrust harder. With his right hand playing with your nipple, his left hand rubbing at your folds and his dick hitting all the right places in you there was no way you could last long and so you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done when with him. You come calling out his name and he encourages you to finish, still drawing circles at your lower lips, with little praises of ‘you did well’ and ‘you’re perfect’.  He also immediately releases into you biting into the side of your neck then falling back on the bed with you still on top of him, he still holds you, embracing you and the moment you just shared.

He later carries you back to the bathroom and washes both of you off. He has you back to your old self again, giggling like a teenage girl that just discovered their first love. You are grateful for him, you really are and maybe you could handle things in a better way. You could handle your problems with Minho. He was the one to listen to you, to take care of you just as you did for everyone else. He was the one to make you feel like you were enough and so much more.

As you lay in your bed both cuddling against each other comfortable in each other’s warmth, Minho promises again to be there for you and to take care of you and you promise to tell him when it gets too much so you can get through it together.

“Minho,” you call him as sweetly as he would you.

“Mmmmh,”

“I love you more.”

#stray kids #skz imagines #stray kids x you #skz x y/n #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know smut #indie thoughts

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

yves never tells u why he likes u so I wonder how he’d react if u forced him to explain himself because u won’t believe him otherwise. and when I say forced I mean that he can’t distract u from it. u demand a 30 page essay explaining in great detail why he loves u. maybe u even ask “would u love me if I was as worm” on occasion

His answer will change depending on your personality, he will tell you what you want to hear and you will fall for it and walk away satisfied.

However, his true reasons consist of his entire, freakishly obsessive nature of his data vault. All five acres and counting; revealing the truth will undoubtedly spook you to death and serves more of a punishment than a reward. Yves couldn't fit all the reasons in a 30 page essay no matter how he tried as he loves every trait, every thought, every molecule and every atom of what makes you, you.

It's not to say that the reasons he would provide you are false, they're also true. It's just the most vanilla ones he picked for you to hear, the most romantic and sane sounding ones. Yves would gladly churn out a one foot thick journal with proper citations and appropriate evidences, which he thinks is too short given the magnitude of his adoration for you.

But it is already clear from his painfully simplified reasons why he's willingly, eternally devoted to you, that the love he holds is undeniably unconditional and undying. Yves loves the best and the worst parts of you, the most mundane parts and the most complicated ones. Things that you didn't even realize yourself and things you never thought were worthy of attention.

He loves you for existing. For being in this world or the next.

Yves already knows the question about loving a person if they were a worm, even before the advent of the internet as couples and children would ask their loved ones questions of similar nature.

He already did extensive research on how to provide the best care for any species of worms, in the whimsical advent where you would turn into one. He has your terrarium sketched out, with enough enrichment a worm could ever have. A list of foods that worm-you might like.

If you actually did turn into a worm, he has no issue spending days observing you in your element, laptop, clipboard pen and pencils nearby to jot down any findings. Just like how he's already doing with you as a human- except when you're a worm, he doesn't need to be as discrete in his stalking and watching.

Oddly enough, if given the chance, he would also want to turn into a worm like you. So that he could just cuddle you, in his own wormy way. No thoughts, just you and peace.

But to sum it up as shortly and accurately as possible, you are his one and only hyperfixation. That term criminally underestimates the permanent, everlasting and perpetual interest and obsession he has for you. You are quite literally, his everything, his will to live and his ultimate purpose. He will follow you to the boundaries of the universe and beyond, loving every version of you and trying his best to fulfil your every wish just to see you smile.

Yves orbits around your world, and he is very happy with it. Nothing will wean him off you, you're forever stuck in his unyielding arms, Yves engulfing you like this protective yet suffocating cage.

Like a celestially indestructible parasite.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader

[secondjulia]

Necessary but Stupid -> The StarvingArtist!Dream/Plasma AU You Didn't Request

UM. So. This was definitely just a weird little AU idea I had... definitely not while hooked up at csl daydreaming about Dream & Hob... that I was just going to dump in @gabessquishytum's Ask, as one does with weird little AU ideas. And then it kind of exploded. Into an actual story.

---Rated: G. Logistics in the tags. Ao3 link ---

There's no stopping the dark cloud that passes over Hob's head the moment he opens the door to the plasma center. But now he can smile brightly through it and let the storm blow quietly away. The dark memories this place holds still surface every time he walks in, but he's never once considered not going. Even though it's been ten years since Eleanor and the babe died of some rare blood condition that triggered childbirth complications, Hob's still there twice a week, every week, rain or shine.

He waves to the clerk at the desk. The security guard greets him with a comment about the latest football match, and Hob makes an appropriately pained, commiserating expression. He asks the technician taking his blood pressure how his honeymoon went — Côte d'Albâtre, right? — and Hob reminisces cheerily about his own trips to France.

Nobody’s ever exactly happy at the plasma center, but the sunny professor’s relentlessly friendly chatter brightens everyone’s day. All the staff know him by name, his surprisingly colorful stories can help pass the time on those long-line days, and his smile always lights up the room. 

Sure, Hob can be kind of opinionated — like whenever he declares that death is stupid and nobody should have to die of preventable diseases! Everyone just goes along with it, and it’s so cruel! (Nobody actually disagrees, but he is very vocal about it.) The first time he said this — sitting hunched with downcast eyes, just weeks after his wife’s death — his voice was soft with hopelessness, and it cracked as he held back tears. But ten years later, when people ask him why he’s still doing this when he’s a tenured professor with a summer cottage and a retirement plan, Hob declares jovially that death is stupid! Nobody has to die when he can give them something they need from his own arms — it’s a renewable resource! 

Hob, it cannot be said enough, brightens everyone's day — usually.

But not today. Not everyone's.

Dream cannot believe the insufferable words coming out of this man’s mouth. It's the first day Dream’s set foot in this particular center, and he already wants to go home. 

But home is the problem. Dream's new apartment is much cheaper than the building that just evicted him, but this latest series of paintings are taking far longer to complete than he'd hoped. And also, the art world just fucking sucks. Dream can't fool himself. Even when the paintings are ready, it's unlikely they'll sell well enough or soon enough to plug the gaps in his income. 

For years, Dream played the whole shitty-jobs roulette to support his art, but ever since he was kidnapped and spent years in a glass cage in a basement, he can’t even manage that. Seriously, try explaining that kind of resumé gap to a job interviewer. When he does manage to get work, it always goes bad fast. Dream wasn’t exactly totally undamaged before, but now he feels like he's all scars.

Dream is not here by choice. He cannot imagine who would be. 

He'd gone to his old plasma center for years — till he was forced to move — in order to make ends meet. Today, he's here to fill in the glaring gap between the meager payment he got for a small watercolor last January, his savings, and a near-maxed-out credit card. (Nearly maxed out in the hasty scramble to get to a cheaper place to live. Moving was expensive. Funny how that works.) The plasma center is, in some ways, far preferable to many of the jobs he's had in the past, and it allows Dream to spend more time on his art. But it is absolutely unfathomable how anybody could pursue an eternity of this if they didn’t have to. 

Dream keeps his head down avoiding the attention of the chatty professor. He stays quiet. His cold, bony hands are tucked into his long cardigan sleeves except for when he's chugging water, nearly by the gallon. He's about 2kg from the next weight class. Unfortunately, he's lost weight since his eviction, but if he could bump the scale a little higher, it would mean a higher draw — and a slightly higher payment. He's always cold these days, so the heavy sweater isn't a hardship, and the water fills up his stomach and supplements his inadequate lunch of oatmeal and stolen sugar packets.

The first time Dream meets Professor Hob’s eyes is when they’re sliding the needle into his arm and Dream has to turn his head away sharply. Dream was never afraid of needles — not until that night when someone (he later learned it was a twisted old cult leader named Burgess) stuck him with… something that knocked him out cold and he woke up in the basement. These days, although he's done this many times before, when the metal pricks his skin, Dream still lays frozen like an ice sculpture as his heart pounds against his chest.

He has sold his vintage leather jacket, his treasured collection of elegant handmade cloaks (there was a theatrical phase, it’s complicated), and most of his books (the shelves of his sparse apartment now hold only a few cheap volumes of blank paper for his sketches). But it wasn’t enough. 

Burgess was years ago, but Dream's life still lies in ruins.

He does not like being here. But it seems that this — his body's materials, his very essence — is the only thing of value he has to offer the world. This most basic biological function, the blood pumping through his veins, is all anyone wants of him now.

So despite his fear, he lets them bleed him.

Hob is usually quiet when he’s hooked up to the machine. He'll chat in the line and in the lobby and at the vitals check, but on the donation floor, he politely minds his own business. Here, everyone retreats into their own world, usually scrolling on their phone or staring at the clock. People don't usually feel like talking when they’ve got a needle in their arm. And Hob’s an extrovert, not an asshole. 

But today, the man beside him looks over, and Hob can’t wrench his eyes away. The man is thin and sheet white and his eyes are huge and watery over jutting cheekbones. His lips might be trembling.

“Alright there?” Hob asks kindly. 

The man’s head twitches. It might be a nod.

Hob has seen people pass out here before. With the way this guy looks, Hob’s mildly shocked that anyone thought it was a good idea to drain him of vital fluids. But the people here know their business. His numbers must be under control, or else he wouldn’t’ve been allowed in.

Still, under control doesn’t necessarily mean ok.

So Hob gently keeps the conversation going with the man. Dream, he learns and his heart flutters at the name. He weirdly doesn’t seem bothered by Hob’s donation floor chatter (maybe because he's too bothered by the needle in his arm to notice anything else). Dream doesn’t even pull out a phone. He seems to hang on Hob’s every word of small talk. 

“I can shut up if you’d life,” Hob offers when he realizes with a shock that he’s babbled through the entire first draw. “It just seemed like you needed some distraction.”

“Please.” Dream blushes slightly. Well, at least his skin is getting some blood. “Tell me about… your experiences. What… have you been doing?”

Huh? 

What has he been doing? That’s vague. 

But if anyone can find a way to fill a vague prompt, it’s Hob. So he chatters some more about the union organizing at his university and a ridiculous new scheduling system for the adjuncts — it’s like they’ve taken all the worst aspects of on-demand scheduling from the fast food industry and applied it to higher education for some incomprehensible reason. One of his colleagues had a class — and £2000 of pay — cancelled two days before term started. But not everything’s bad. Hob knows the students are planning a walkout next week, which he fully supports and has already adjusted his lessons to compensate for the lost time. Also, there’s a new pizza place on campus which is rather decent.

He really is just rambling. 

But Dream seems to need it. He hasn’t looked down at his arm once, and Hob’s certain that’s for the best.

Dream has to admit that the insufferable professor has made the time go by a lot quicker. He’s shocked when they’re sliding the needle out of his arm, then wrapping his elbow up, and he’s free to go. He mumbles what he hopes is a polite goodbye to Hob, who is also finishing up, and then practically stumbles out into the rain.

He clutches his cardigan around him and pulls up his hood and plods away from the center. This place is closer to the new apartment than his previous plasma center, but it’s still a half hour hike home. The buses take even longer — his crappy apartment isn't exactly on a convenient route. But at least walking saves him a few quid.

“Hey!” 

The voice makes Dream flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car slow down beside him, and his heart ratchets up in his chest. He doesn’t look over, only hunches deeper into his wet cardigan and walks faster.

“Hey, Dream!”

Oh.

Belatedly, Dream recognizes Hob’s voice. He finally looks up to see Hob looking out his car window and smiling despite the rain streaming onto his face.

“Looks like you could use a ride!” Hob jerks his head toward the passenger’s seat. “Hop in!”

Dream stares at the kindly professor. Who offers a stranger a ride in their car? Sure, Dream spent the last forty five minutes listening to every mundane detail of this guy's super normie professional life, but they still barely know each other! And if Hob actually knew Dream — a failed starving artist and all around fuckup, consistently two minutes away from homelessness — there’s no way he’d want to associate with him outside of the polite minimum of chatter at the center. 

So what the fuck is Hob playing at?

“Come on, you’ll get soaked!” Hob prods.

Fear strikes Dream, and he recoils, stumbling away from the vehicle.

“Dream? You alright there?”

But Dream is already running, tearing off through the rain. He cuts through a shitty neglected park, climbs a fence and gets chased by a rottweiler through a closed off parking lot, and dashes across a highway — almost getting hit twice.  He doesn’t stop running until he’s home.

Or, well, what passes for his home now. 

Dream dries off, makes some tea, and grabs a sketchbook. His hand shakes as he doodles, but the process calms him and grounds his mind. 

Then, as usual, after his fear begins to ebb, he feels stupid.

His mind replays the afternoon's events. Hob’s smile is brilliant in his memory. Though the initial snatches of overheard conversation were insufferable — not to mention incomprehensible — his recitation of the mundane details of life had been oddly calming. And, though Dream had perhaps not appreciated it in the moment, Hob had seemed genuinely concerned. 

The more Dream thinks about it, the stupider he feels. Worse, he feels ashamed. How rude to run from Hob, who’d only wanted to help! 

The scar tissue that has proliferated over Dream’s heart has truly damaged his ability to function among decent people. That night, he lays awake for a long time thinking about this. He should probably just never go back to the plasma center. He can’t imagine facing Hob after reacting so poorly to his kindness.

But the next day, after he scribbles up the month’s expenses and tries to make the math work, Dream realizes he has no choice. 

The day after that, he’s plodding back to the plasma center.

The feelings of shame are almost overwhelming, and Dream slouches in with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes averted from everyone. 

“Dream!” Hob’s voice is like a warm bubble bath. “Hope you got home alright.”

Dream can barely look at him, but Hob's smile is like a ray of sun on Dream’s face. There’s a cloud of concern shadowing his eyes, but he’s otherwise as cheery as ever.

“Forgive me. I…” Dream cannot explain. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I totally overstepped,” Hob says. “I know I can be a bit much, and I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

Dream cannot believe that Hob is apologizing to him. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hob said gingerly, “was that your first time? It’s just you didn’t seem particularly pleased with the whole process. I thought I’d likely never see you in here again.”

“It was not. I have done this…” Too many times to count. “…frequently.” Dream finds the prospect of explaining the complexity of his situation too daunting. But he is touched by Hob’s concern. “I do not enjoy the process.”

Hob makes a sympathetic noise.

“But I did enjoy…” Dream pauses. What the fuck is he doing? Hob’s been kind enough to overlook his rudeness; Dream should just shut up and leave him alone. But maybe Dream has been alone too long, been too long without a sympathetic ear, because he keeps on mumbling, “I enjoyed hearing about your university. With the union… and the pizza… and everything.”

Impossibly, Hob brightens even further. “I could take you! The pizza really is delicious—Oh, shit, sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” The cloud of concern is back as he takes in Dream’s downcast gaze. “I’m being too much. Sorry, I didn't mean to push!”

“No, not at all. It sounds lovely. I just…” Dream shifts awkwardly. “They don’t exactly pay us enough here for going out.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!" Hob says with a wave of his hand. "It’s no problem. I’d love to take you out. You looked like you could’ve used a good meal after that last one. Have you at least eaten something so far today?” Hob tries to keep the worry out of his voice so he doesn’t sound like a mother hen. All the instructional materials are very explicit about not donating on an empty stomach, but he knows that people do what they have to. 

“I have,” Dream says honestly. His lips twitch as he takes in Hob’s worried look. But Hob's smile, even suppressed, is a beautiful thing. “Really,” Dream stresses. “Oatmeal is cheap. I've had enough to be getting on with things. But later…”

“Great!” Hob’s heart flutters, but he stamps down the feeling. The memory of Dream running from him twists at his heart. He never wants to make him afraid again. 

On the donation floor, they're next to each other again. And again Hob chatters happily about whatever he can think of to keep Dream distracted. It all seems to go well until they emerge together into the parking lot and Hob notices Dream tense as he glances at Hob’s car.

“We can hop on the bus, if you prefer,” Hob says. “The campus is just down the main line, and I've got extra passes.”

Dream blushes, and his shoulders hunch like he's ashamed. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s nothing of the sort! It saves on gas and it's good for the planet!”

At the bus stop, Hob notices the way Dream’s gaze constantly flicks around his surroundings. Even when he looks down and hunches in on himself, his eyes remain alert, as if he's still hyperaware of every movement on his periphery. Hob wants so badly to reach out and comfort him and wipe away whatever has caused him to move through life with such fear, but he doesn't dare overstep. 

Hob is glad that the pizza place is in the bustling, well-lit central food court. Dream's body relaxes somewhat, and that specific tension which Hob had notice in the parking lot doesn't return. Hob buys him a giant slice of spinach, mushroom, and feta and a sealed bottle of water, and Dream even cracks a smile.

“I apologize for my behavior,” Dream says as they find seats at a plastic table in the middle of the food court. 

“No need," Hob says. "I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You were being kind, and I reacted… extremely.” Dream takes a deep breath and then a long sip of water.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hob hastens to assure him, "about… whatever happened… if you don't want to."

Dream nods. He knows. Despite his annoyingly resurgent fear, he feels safe around Hob. So slowly, hesitantly, he begins to explain. 

It’s an abbreviated form of the story. Dream avoids the details of how Burgess thought he could siphon the life force from vibrant young adults. How he'd drawn a whole following into his delusion, even though he'd ultimately kept Dream for himself. How (Dream had learned later) Burgess had boasted about having a fresh young man, the font of youth, trapped in his basement — and no one had done anything, whether because he was just a rich eccentric who could get away with a "joke" like that or because he'd paid enough people off. He didn't tell Hob how the elder Burgess hadn't ever been held accountable because he'd died before any of it had come to light, and the younger Burgess had fallen into a coma. A care worker had ultimately taken a wrong turn, stumbled into the basement, and that was how the police were finally called to Fawney Rig. But since no one was alive (or conscious) for a big, thrilling trial, the entire ordeal just fizzled quietly into the background.

It’s not the whole story. But it's enough. 

Hob’s face grows progressively more horrified. He's abandoned his half-eaten pesto and prosciutto slice. It sits cold in front of him now. He feels sick.

“I make art,” Dream says into the silence. “It is not lucrative, but I can work when and how I wish. I have not… had a great deal of luck with traditional employment. Especially not since… those events.”

“Right. Of course." Hob's voice cracks over his words. For once, he's struggling to extract his usual chatter. "Can’t imagine anything’s easy after that.” 

Hob doesn't touch the remainder of his pizza, but Dream polishes his off. He looks oddly relaxed now, as if, in the telling, some of the weight of the horrifying story has slid from his body. 

“I’d love to see your art,” Hob says on the bus back to the plasma center parking lot. Belatedly, he cringes at the presumption, wondering if it's too much, knowing now that he really ought not to push his interest onto a bloody kidnap victim.

“I have a website,” Dream says, bringing it up on his phone and showing the address to Hob. Then he stands, though they're only about halfway back to the center. “This stop is closer to my home. I… Thank you. For the meal. And the kind ear. Perhaps… I will see you next Tuesday?”

“Of course,” Hob says, and a little bubble of happiness rises in his chest. “It’s Tuesday and Thursday for me until the schedule changes next term.”

Over the next few weeks, Hob isn’t always next to Dream on the donation floor. But he asks Dream to tell him about his latest project afterwards, so Dream has something to think about during the donation. And also so that it's not just Hob chattering away at their post-donation dinners. Which are happening regularly now. Sometimes they go for pizza, sometimes a good curry or a hefty shawarma; Hob introduces Dream to the pubs with the best (and biggest) burgers. He knows all the places to get a solid, filling dinner, not because he's concerned about getting his money's worth but because Hob just enjoys a good meal and he's more than happy to help put some meat on Dream's bones.

And get the artist to open up. 

Slowly, Dream begins to do just that.

It starts to seem like Dream feels safe with Hob. When they're out, he stands close to Hob, as if comforted by his presence. His shoulders begin to straighten out, and he hunches less when they're together. Dream's gaze is still alert, but it rarely sinks to the floor now, and his eyes don't flick fearfully around so much when he's with Hob. 

Three weeks after they meet, Dream lets Hob drive him home.

Two weeks after that, he invites Hob inside to see his current projects. 

Hob knew Dream was a good artist from the first glimpse at his website, but seeing the bright canvases in person is just stunning. The glistening abstractions echo the swirling galaxies and deep, black voids of the universe. The colors blend in fantastic points of light or unearthly flames or brilliant streaks across the sky. The textures — flattened out in the photos — give an impression of looking into entire worlds. The brushstrokes are mountain ranges and deep ocean trenches and shaded valleys where, somehow, Hob can imagine entire populations living and thriving within the fibers of the canvas.

"The, erm… the university has spaces for community exhibits," Hob says, struggling to bring himself out of the captivating images as if wading out of a dream. How appropriate. "I could look into that, see if you could do a show. Maybe the Art Department could have you in for a lecture, too — you could talk about the real-life challenges of being an artist, the actual work involved, the practical—" Oh no. He's being too much again. "I mean, of course, you don't have to! I won't say anything without—"

Dream's arms are around Hob's shoulders before Hob can even turn away from the canvas. His wild, dark hair is tucked against Hob's cheek as Dream tightens his grip.

Hob's hands slowly move to Dream's back. He can't speak for a long moment. Instead, his hands gently rub against the thin material of Dream's shirt. Hob can feel the edges of his spine and ribcage, but Dream also feels softer than Hob would've imagined the first time he saw him, pale and shaking, weeks ago.   

"Thank you," Dream murmurs. He steps back, and his gaze lowers, but now it's not filled with fear and sadness. He's smiling shyly. "If you could do that, I-I… would be grateful."

Hob can do that!

He's in Medieval History himself, but he's friends with half the Art History department due to overlapping lectures, the occasional historical consultation or spontaneous debate, and just being a friendly guy. And the Art History people know a few of the more curious, historically-aware Art people due to various collaborations and consultations on the evolution of modern styles and techniques and the socio-political contexts of artistic development. 

Hob, with his talent for striking up conversation, takes less than a week to find several interested parties. And once he shows them Dream's work, everyone is extremely eager to invite the talented local artist to campus!

The next time Hob walks into the plasma center, Dream is already beaming. His smile is bright enough to singlehandedly banish the residual storm cloud that always follows Hob over the threshold.

"I hit the next weight class," Dream says. He leans subtly into Hob's side.

"Good on you!" Hob says, beaming right back. When he tells Dream about the interest in his work, Dream's arm snakes around his waist for a subtle but firm half-hug.

At Dream's first show (he's already scheduled in with both the Art and Art History Departments — the latter wants to address the reality of artist's lives across time — and, hell, Hob's even lobbying his own History Department to get Dream in as part of a series on creative work throughout history), Hob is enamored with one canvas he hasn't seen before. From a distance it's a dark oil-slick abstraction with iridescent slashes of green and blue, but up close, Hob can see the feathery edges of wings.

He cannot explain the sudden, confusing wave of sorrow-joy-awe it provokes deep in his chest.

"Departed souls," Dream says softly, coming up behind Hob, "come back as ravens. Or so it is believed by some."

Hob sniffs and tries to control the itch in his eyes as he turns toward Dream. "Oh?"

"I painted this one soon after I regained my freedom. It felt like a part of me had not survived the imprisonment. It was… necessary, perhaps, to lose something in order to regain my life, but it hurt nonetheless."

"Oh." Hob doesn't know what else to say, but he reaches out, gingerly wrapping an arm around Dream, waiting for any hint of refusal, but Dream turns into him and clutches him tight, and Hob's arms tighten around him in turn. "It's beautiful," he finally says, his words muffled against Dream's hair. 

"I think now… maybe… some part of me that had not survived… has come back. In some form."

And Hob is gone. Tears leak down into Dream's hair. Hob clutches at him for support, but he can feel himself shaking, and now it's Dream rubbing soothing patterns into his back and tightening the embrace.

When they finally pull back, Dream wipes Hob's cheeks with his palm. He tilts his head in a silent question.

"Just… death," Hob says. "It's bloody stupid, isn't it? In all its forms. Necessary, maybe but stupid. I don't want any part of it."

Hob laughs at himself, as if the brash declaration itself is stupid. 

But Dream only nods; he can see that there are deep forces moving beneath Hob's usually cheery exterior. 

On the way home, he listens as Hob finally opens up about his wife and the unborn babe. After a decade, Hob says, the wound has closed up, he has "moved on" in all the ways one is supposed to move on, he has a new — and rather wonderful — life. But the scar will remain forever. It still hurts, but he's grateful for the life he had and the new one he's grown into.

"Shit," Hob says suddenly.

Dream looks around and realizes they haven't driven back to his own crappy apartment building. 

"Sorry." Hob wipes his eyes. "I've blabbered so much, I wasn't paying attention. Driven myself right home."

"It's alright," Dream says. He peeks over at Hob shyly. "I've never seen your place."

Hob blinks at him for a moment — Dream's heart thuds against his throat — and then, despite the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, Hob's face breaks into a brilliant smile. 

"Are you hungry?" Hob asks. "I can actually cook quite well. It's not always pub food and pizza."

With perfect timing, Dream's stomach gives an almost painful rumble. "I'm starving."

Inside, Hob cooks a delectable dinner. Dream watches Hob move about the kitchen, chattering happily — he's already inviting Dream back over for brunch and maybe a Netflix marathon and Christmas. And Dream's mind is blossoming with new paintings, these ones bright with twining paths and colliding galaxies and shared dreams.

Hob is vaguely aware that he might be babbling into too much territory again, but when he sees Dream watching him with that dreamy sparkly in his eyes, his heart is just too full to care. As they eat together, he lets himself just be excited and not worry about reining himself in. Truly, he might not mind an eternity of this.

And Dream is thinking much the same thing.

#Apparently paid plasma donation is illegal in the UK & you can't donate 2x/week SO... #This is also the Dystopian AU where all the regulations have been axed sorry #+I don't know how buses work in the UK. This is how they work in my city :) #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #fanfic #dreamling #my fanfic