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amisunderstoodgoddess · 7 months

Text

The Hunt

(final part here)

Rating: Explicit +18

Summary: When the creature you fear so much manages to escape containment, will he show you any mercy or take you without any regret?

Author's note: I intend to make this story with just two chapters. This is the first, the second will soon be available. Hope you like it!

English is not my first language.

'ALERT: Specimen 375-6 is out of containment.

It's not training. All search and capture units were activated.

ALERT: Specimen 375-6 out of containment.'

You swallow hard as you read the warning message on your phone, the words falling over your body like a truck of bricks.

He had escaped.

The creature you knew and didn't know.

It was yet another top-secret government item, another non-human biological material captured and kept for research.

He stands out from the others, of course.

With his height, intimidating physique, and obvious intelligence, but you never actually approached his cell, only catching brief glimpses from afar as you did your job collecting and saving data from the scientists' research in the system.

But you always felt something strange in the rare moments you needed to approach the cell block he was in.

He kept to the back, using the shadows to stay hidden. And yet there was one thing that caught your attention, regardless of how dark the place was.

His eyes.

Two orange spheres, standing out like beacons in the night.

He remained basically the same every time you entered that part of the building. Sitting on the floor with his legs half bent and his wrists firmly restrained by chains resting on his knees, you couldn't make out the color of his scaly skin or his features in general, but the color of those eyes shone like neon lights in the darkness of the cell.

He looked at you, every time.

It was disturbingly intense. There were no blinking eyelids or shifting gazes, he stared at you with unwavering focus from the moment you entered the lab until the moment you left. His eyes…they shone with intelligence and superiority. Like he's just there because he wants to be there, not because he was captured. He owned everything he laid eyes on. The rational part of your brain screamed, 'Look away! Run away!' but those eyes seemed to want to capture your soul with each encounter.

All your co-workers had noticed the strange fixation that the creature seemed to have on you, but you always denied it, diverting the subject while saying it was just their imagination.

Deep down you knew it wasn't.

You saw the way his unsettling gaze settled on your form, felt the shiver run down your spine at his gaze and yet - even now, you could still feel that warm buzz inside at the memory of his burning gaze locked on you.

You could admit that it wasn't healthy to feel any level of curiosity towards a murderous monster who was obsessed with you. It was scary.

Your only consolation was that he was tightly contained with the best technologies the government could dispose of.

But he always seemed very calm to you, as if he were above all that. In a confident and almost arrogant way, in the way that only people who have a coldly calculated plan are.

Now he was free.

And you had a horrible feeling that you knew exactly who he was going after.

You quickly walk down the street towards your house. Your heart beats fast, the gentle breeze brushes your warm skin and your loose hair. The canopy of trees above and the few lights along the main path cast their shadow in the opposite direction as you walk faster and faster.

At the end of the street, your eyes notice movement, something large and slow, moving behind a row of parked cars. It's not completely unusual for pedestrians to be out so late - after all, you're here, right? - but your stomach drops a little, very consciously. Something instinctive warning you that it is smart to be afraid.

By the time your trajectory takes you past the line of dark vehicles, the street is once again empty and you allow the hairs on the back of your neck to rise with relief. It was probably just some insomniac suburbanite, taking out the trash or smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk.

Rows of closed windows stare at you blankly as you pass by, colonial houses with sagging porches and overgrown backyards, the residents of the peaceful neighborhood sleeping soundly within the comfort of their homes.

A noise breaks the silence: a loud, prolonged rumble, followed by an inhuman whine, an undeniably animal sound.

There's a single lamp behind you that puts an enormous silhouette into sharp relief, but you can still easily see his solid, dangerous structure.

Your knees threaten to give way, your throat burns as you try to take a deep breath, fear leaves you numb and clumsy in exactly the least desired way at the moment. You don't think, not really, you just act. Getting to the house across the street is like running a marathon, and raising your fists to knock on the door, swing the doorknob, requires a huge effort against the adrenaline that makes your hands shake uncontrollably. "Please help me!", your voice is hoarse, your throat is tight, it's not loud enough, no matter how much you want to scream - it's like you're trapped in a nightmare where no one can hear your screams for help. "Let me in, please, I-"

The door swings open under the weight of your fists, and you almost fall to your knees at the abrupt movement. You don't have time to think, to weigh whether this would be the smartest choice compared to the others, you don't know if he's clinging to your back or if there's still a safe distance between the two of you -

You just enter.

---

The realization of the terrible mistake you made dawns on you in the space of a few minutes of panting breaths.

The living room is empty, strangely enough, not that you really have time to think about it. A staircase appears in your field of vision, and your panicked animal brain sends you toward it, taking two steps at a time, crossing a long landing and climbing to a second floor, holding on to the railing like a wooden board salvation. "Someone please!" You manage to scream, "Please, someone! I'm being followed, call the police!"

The police couldn't help you, and if you were thinking clearly you would know that. No one, not even the army, could help you against this thing.

Yet there is no voice responding, no shuffling human movement, no clicking light. And then you see the paint cans, the tarp, the door off its hinges and against the opposite wall.

This house is under construction.

Nobody. No lights. Without help.

Spinning on your heel, you stagger back toward the stairs. But there is no more time. The door you left ajar in your moment of despair lets in a pale beam of moonlight through the unfinished wooden floor of the foyer, and you watch in mute horror as a shape fills it - huge, so tall that he has to lower his head past the doorframe, a brick wall of an alien assassin wearing a metallic mask. The soulless black holes of the visor, poor excuses for eyes, stare back at you.

Alone, in an empty and unfamiliar house. Your heart pounds in your chest, bile rising in your throat - you're trapped.

You know it. And he knows it too.

The creature walks with slow and determined steps towards the end of the stairs. You briefly, wildly consider waiting until he reaches the landing and then throwing yourself off the balcony. You can survive.

The thought makes you feel like a panicked rat, chewing on its own leg to get out of the trap.

Of course there's also the possibility that you'll break every bone in your body and die from sheer stupidity - which may be preferable to death by those sharp claws on his massive hands, but at least the latter you'll be able to escape. If you can keep your wits and your legs under you, you might be able to outwit the Predator. Evade the trap.

You almost want to laugh at your own delusions of salvation.

Your unsteady feet drag back without your eyes leaving him, but with every slow step you take back he takes one towards the stairs. The silver rays of the moon bathing his reptilian-looking skin, highlighting his entire body dyed in a singular tone of obsidian, with some lighter variations on the abdomen and in some internal points. Thick, long tendrils of 'hair' flow around the mask and over his broad shoulders, adorned with gold and silver metal beads. One of his hands - oh, huge and with long, sharp black claws - seems to want to reach out towards you, but the creature holds back for some reason, preferring to continue with the strange war of glances.

It seems that in his escape from the laboratory he recovered some of his things: in addition to the mask, he wore the wrist gauntlets, the net that covered his body, the strange piece of cloth wrapped around his hips decorated with bones and skulls, and the metallic protectors on the shins. The metallic chestplate and combi-stick weren't visible, you can't tell if he managed to recover it or not.

Regardless, he was infinitely more frightening now that you can see him outside of containment; big and broad, a solid wall of defined muscles. But it was his posture that unnerved you. The roll of his shoulders, the tension in his arms. The almost imperceptible flex of his calf muscles, as if he was preparing to jump - just waiting for a movement from you to attack.

He reaches out, this time to his own face, grabbing the metal there. Air pressure is released when the metal mask is removed.

You hold your breath.

His face was lighter than the rest of his body, a slightly grayish tone with some black streaks mixing with the dreadlock-like hair on his head, a few black barbs framing the sides of his face and along his elongated forehead. There were, of course, those flaming eyes you already knew. Instead of lips, he had four folded jaws with long teeth at the tip of each of them. Inside those jaws, you could see more of his teeth, smaller but more numerous and frighteningly sharp.

He moved his jaws as he climbed the stairs with purposeful slowness, his massive size making the stairs creak, strange clicks and rumbles emerging from his mouth.

You gasped in response to his face, shaky and scared, your backward steps continuing until your back hit the wall.

End of the line.

If you ran you would have to turn your back on him, and you couldn't do that. Never turn your back on a predator, everyone knew this rule.

It was as if you were in a horror movie or a nightmare, where you could only watch without any reaction as the monster approached. The predatory way he approached awakened the primitive instinct to flee, but your legs were shaking too much for that.

You pushed yourself further against the wall, even though there was no longer any space. It looked like he wouldn't stop walking, that he would simply knock you into the wall, but at the last second he pinned you against him and ice-cold wood at your back.

The air was knocked from you, hands flat against his chest instinctively as a way to get some distance. Even under the net, his skin was clearly much warmer and firmer than your own, smooth in some places and textured in others, the latter matching the gray patterns that spread across his extremities. He smelled mostly of moss and damp, like a forest after rain. But there was also a muffled current of pheromones, a slightly peppery scent that hit you like a tsunami.

In fact now that you felt it, it felt heavier and heavier by the second, as if he was exhaling on purpose. With each inhale, that smell seemed to make you a little more relaxed, a little more dizzy.

It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was even closer, hovering above you, his breath hot and wet, stirring your strands of hair. A gasp left your throat as his sharp jaws dove down, digging his nose or whatever it was into your hair to press into your neck - though you didn't know if that sound had been out of terror or something else. All you knew was that when he backed away, another low, animalistic growl resonated from deep in his chest, long and continuous and it took you a few awkward seconds to realize he was...purring? Purring like a cat? It was bizarre, but your own body began to uncoil, as if some force tied behind you sternum had pulled your back with him.

Your breathing is now labored for what seems like an entirely different reason. You can increasingly smell that intoxicating scent in the air and that, plus the mesmerizing purr, is making your eyes roll back slightly, a blurry haze taking over your thoughts. You can feel his sharp claws as they dig into your shirt and you, in turn, can't control the shudder in your body in response.

His scent is doing something to you, something that definitely shouldn't be happening. There's an overwhelming pressure blooming in your core, the beginnings of a dull ache that makes you clench your thighs to ease the tension. The saliva in your mouth comes down with difficulty as you swallow and lick your lips, stretching your neck to look into his eyes - god, you could barely reach the line below his chest with your head. What's happening with you? He is not human, he is not human. This is wrong.

"..." His jaws click and move, strange sounds fill the room with deep growls and hisses; he was talking, but you couldn't understand him. His eyes roam your face as he speaks his strange language, and his thumb gently wipes away a tear you hadn't even noticed falling from your eye.

You open your mouth to question, to scream for help, to beg for mercy, for anything...but nothing comes out.

His breath is hot as he bends his body until he's almost face to face with you, all predatory expression and clicking jaws, almost drooling on your skin. And then, as he forcing the words out of his depths, he says, “Mate.” He declares to you, slowly and gravely in a way that no human sound could ever be, but a little more understandable now.

You look at him in shock, not expecting a deep, English word to come out of his alien mouth. His inhuman eyes are bright enough that you clearly see the orange flames in the dim light of the night, slashed down the center with black, almost feline pupils that threaten to drag you inside.

Mate.

What the hell?

You blink slowly, the low rumble persisting as he purrs under your attention and you can tell he's trying very hard to appear less threatening to you. You bite your lip against a hysterical and completely untimely laugh that wants to escape, the tension of fear finally channeling into something different (something manic and traumatized) when he presses his broad forehead to yours in a frighteningly intimate gesture, tilting his head even further to rub your cheeks with those sharp jaws, snorting into your hair and sniffing at your neck.

The drag of the deadly fangs against your skin is exhilarating, in the worst way and you fear what is to come, a very animal and very instinctive part rooted in the most unconscious corner of your being, knows exactly what this creature is wanting from you. And the worst part, the most disturbing and embarrassing part of this realization, is that you don't know if you want to resist. Not with the way his scent and purrs are making your legs shaky and your mind fuzzy.

You're shaking, but it's not just from fear and perhaps the creature knows this, because he pulls back a little until he looks into your eyes - something very carnal and very primal vibrating almost visibly beneath that reptilian skin.

He slowly looks away from yours to fiddle with something on his wrist, and you feel like you can breathe once again without the oppressive weight of the orange orbs on you. He clicks the object on his arm for a few moments and then pulls a small metal disk out of it. It's no bigger than a small cell phone chip, and he balanced it on his fingertips.

Curious, you lean in a little. You just want to take a look at what he's doing; but before you even know what's happening, the giant puts his hand around your throat and pulls you towards him. You scream at the hostile action and try to fight him, but of course it's no use. With his strong hand, he can easily subdue you and move your head to the side, pressing the metal thing against the skin just behind your ear in a quick, burning blow.

You don't have time to react, much less to understand how he did that at that speed.

You just feel the effect.

It burns, like you're being branded, and you scream. Your whole head hurts, and for a second you wonder if he hit you against the wall in the process. It's a wrong and distorted feeling, like someone is tuning a radio inside your head, you hear screams and white noise echoing inside; so loud that you have to cover your ears with your hands, but that does little to decrease to the cacophony inside your mind.

When the alien releases you, you kneel on the ground, still writhing in discomfort and pain from the chaos in your head – and then, suddenly, everything stops. You're panting, your fingers covering your ears and your head between your knees, but when the noise quiets, you slowly look up. And although you are dizzy and a little disoriented, the presence of the creature hovering ominously above you is clear.

“W-what was that?” you mumble between quick breaths. "What the hell did you do to me!?"

The alien blinks slowly and tilts his head, jaws clicking before he responds. "Now we can talk."

Your eyes widen at the strange sound (but fluid and articulate, very different from just a few minutes ago), your stomach tightens and you pull your knees closer to your chest. “W-what?”

“It’s a translator,” he says. His voice is still very dark and booming, but his growls and clicks have somehow turned into words you can understand. “This allows your little ooman brain to understand my language.”

You swallow hard and feel the blood drain from your body. He was scary when you couldn't understand him, but he was even scarier when he could talk.

“Get up, little ooman,” he murmurs. “We should get to my ship. I don’t want to spend any more time on this miserable planet.”

You can't believe what you're hearing, everything is happening so fast. With shaky legs, you gape at him. “I…I don’t understand.”

The moment is interrupted by something when the alien turns his head towards the window of the house, the various dreads tubes rattling with the movement and his jaws opening in a low trill while a long, forked tongue at the tip comes out of his deadly-looking mouth. You gasp at the sight, but he doesn't look at you, using his own body in front of yours, as if he was instinctively hiding and protecting you from something you cannot see, feel or hear. The burgundy appendage is long and glistens with the moisture of his alien saliva, along its length there are some quivers and small barbs. He slowly waves the thing in the air, almost as if he's proving something. And then you understand.

He's smelling it.

Maybe he's even more snake-like than you thought, after all, catching scent particles in the air with his tongue.

The air is positively thick with eager anticipation, he's alert and ready and you feel it.

You don't have time to think about it too much, though. Because soon he is looking at you again, although there is no longer any sign of malice and hunger in his posture now. The way he lifts his colossal body until he's completely erect, swelling the already prominent muscles to appear more menacing, only speaks of a creature with a purpose.

"Oomans here. They must have some kind of tracker." He growls once more and clicks that gauntlet again, making you jerk back with a new wave of fear.

"Y-yes, all the containment units are after you now. It's only a matter of time before they find you and try to arrest you again. Y-you should go." You respond quietly and slowly, trying to make him understand every word.

"My ship is nearby." He grumbles sullenly. You try to control the wave of curiosity that the word 'ship' evokes in you. Seriously, how many humans have had the opportunity to see one up close? But of course you don't say anything, if you got out of this situation with your life it would be good enough. You would forget about this bizarre encounter and go on with your peaceful and boring life as if you had received the greatest gift of all.

But then he continues.

“You…” He covers your body with his once again, cornering you against the wall. Your eyes widen as he wraps a thick arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "You belong to me now, ooman. You'll come along."

You feel like you didn't get it right. “T-to space?”

He doesn't seem to want to entertain this conversation anymore and just grunts again.

It's like all the red flags go up in your mind at once.

"N-no! No, I can't, that's...I can't!"

But he doesn't listen to you, and you can't predict the sharp sting on your neck. It doesn't hurt like it used to, but he cradles your head with huge fingers almost tenderly as a sickening sensation wracks your body and makes you stagger. You feel weak, your body giving out as you babble out things that even you don't understand. Everything is getting dark and your little fingers are scratching his arms looking for support, your breathing is coming with difficulty and your eyes are unfocused.

"It's okay, mate, just give in...I'll take care of you..." He purrs, but you can barely hear him, your senses are fuzzy and lethargic and you know you're going to pass out.

The last thing you see before the darkness swallows you and the unknown can wrap its tentacles around you, are orange flames above you. Hot, consuming and scary.

And then there is nothing but emptiness.

5K notes · View notes

alessiamalfoyzabini · 4 months

Note

can you make a fic about yan!fboyjk and yan!cheaterjk for me? i don’t have a specific plot in my mind so you can do anything to your liking :))

Pairing | cheater!fboy!yan!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 4.242

Warnings | +18, talk about marriage and cheating, smut, dubcon, fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), Jungkook is sweet but also scary, angst, forced relationship, manipulation

Yandere genre is very strong, if you don't like it, don't read. If you are not of age, don't read. I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You want to leave Jungkook, but he is not of the same opinion, It doesn't matter if he did wrong, you are his.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Thank you for the request! I hope you like the story, please ask me for more stories, I am happy to write for you 🥰

You and Jungkook have been always sure about your future, you would get married and live happily ever after like in the most beautiful fairy tale. So why are you crying? Why do you refuse to take your eyes off that scene? Your brain refuses to recognize those angelic features that had caught you in a dense network of colorful, sparkling dreams as a child. That cannot be the same man who swore to you in front of all your relatives eternal love, with a ring in his hand and a wonderful, sweet smile drawn on his lips. Yet who can it be but Jungkook, the man who at that moment holds in his arms a woman unknown to you? You went to the gym to surprise your boyfriend, he had been disappearing for hours for some time under the guise of training for the wedding, he wanted to keep in shape to be perfect for you… just for you. But there he is, at the entrance of the gym whispering something in the ear of the blond-haired woman, who in return smiles cheekily at his joke, running a hand over his strong, trained chest. They seem very close, there is definitely confidence between them. You finally look away, feeling incredibly wrong, and take a step back, then another and another.

You start running in the opposite direction, all to forget that scene, to forget Jungkook's smug eyes staring at a woman who is not you. When you get home you feel incredibly weak, you sit almost collapsing on the bed, in your brain a bunch of ideas start swirling around in your head, ideas that block your breath in your throat. It's not even the first time it's happened, you realize, it's happened before that you've noticed something strange in your relationship, but you've never given it any credence. You don't want to think anymore. Forget, forget, forget.

"Smells good, love," the man leaves a sweet kiss on your neck, pressing his soft lips to caress your skin, "Is my girl getting ready to spoil me yet?" Jungkook holds you tightly in his arms, practically purring against your body. You find yourself smiling between his cuddles, continuing to stir the meat stew simmering in the pot. "You're just saying that because you're hungry," you chuckle gently. You found yourself shaking like a leaf in anxiety for days, believing that sooner or later Jungkook would come to you to tell you that he was leaving you for another woman, but none of that happened, Jungkook is still the same, showering you with attention and adoring you, and still wanting to marry you. Perhaps you had misunderstood the situation, that blond woman must be a friend and you jumped to conclusions, you should have asked Jungkook for explanations, but you still feel something holding you back from doing so. It is fear, a deep and treacherous fear.

"I say this because you are too good to me," he whispers seriously, causing you to turn toward him. His serious eyes chain yours and you feel lost, watching the wonder of that glittering obsidian staring at you encompassing you with possession, Jungkook licks his lips, the rosy soft tip furrowing those inviting petals before he moves closer to you, the electricity between your bodies bursting into lightning bolts as your lips meet, softly joining in an adoring kiss full of dominance. Somehow Jungkook manages to turn off the stove behind you, grabbing your head in a grip that forces you to deepen the kiss under the pressure of his hot tongue pressing repeatedly on your lips to demand access to your mouth. In each touch of Jungkook you lose yourself, accepting the force with which he takes your lips moaning and grabbing a few wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His tongue entwines with yours creating a wet and sensual dance, feeling him slow and hot inside your mouth turns you on in an incredible way. His taste is dope and Jungkook thinks the same of yours, sucking your tongue like delicious candy and smiling. It is always like that, if he wants something, he takes it. And you at that moment happily offer him your body, your feelings and your soul. They are all his.

He grips your hips in his hands, pressing you against his hot body, he needs you and with trembling legs you leave him in charge, he takes you to the couch where he makes you lie down leaving behind a trail of light, soft kisses along your jaw and neck, he stares at you now with half-closed eyes, the man finds himself thinking that you probably don't know how much you are actually giving him. With your clothes now on the floor and your panties lowered to your knees you let your head fall back, clenching your lower lip between your teeth, gentle waves of pleasure envelop your body, Jungkook with one hand travels up your belly to stop at your breasts, which he squeezes possessively as he wraps his tongue around your swollen clitoris, licking and sucking it repeatedly before poking your soggy slit with his fingertips, entering it only slightly, just enough to let your sweet essence out and lick it away with his tongue and enjoy the taste of you that has always driven him wild. You're getting closer and closer to your first orgasm, and you know it won't be the only one; you squeeze his head between your soft, smooth thighs, but he forces you to stay still by pushing his palms on your delicate skin, continuing to eat away at your quivering folds until a wonderful, satisfying sensation grips your belly and explodes into millions of tiny stars behind your closed eyelids.

"Jungkook! S-stop!" you shake your hips trying to make him stop and he stops only after sucking your sensitive pearl against his palate one last time. Kissing your folds and moving up your skin he stops at your belly, licking slowly down to your navel and you shudder still shaken from your orgasm, he only begins to remove his pants and boxers once he reaches your breasts, where he breathes in the scent of your soft skin and takes a delicate nipple in his mouth, attaching it and beginning to caress it with the tip of his tongue, sending delicious shivers throughout your body. "Open those beautiful legs for me, sweetheart," he gives you two light pats on the knee and makes you spread your legs wide, satiating his hungry, smug eyes. He loves the power you let him wield over you. You lick your lips at the sight of his straining, cum-shiny cock, wanting to taste it, to feel that length filling your mouth and leaving you breathless, but Jungkook pushes you back against the couch firmly, shaking his head amusedly. "Later, love," he murmurs finally taking off the tight t-shirt he is wearing, you find yourself gazing at his defined and gorgeous abs with the driest of throats, he doesn't let you touch him to your disappointment, you want to caress his chest, play with his sensitive nipples, but with a firm, hard kiss he guides himself between your legs, sinuously sliding into your wet entrance with his thick, hard cock, you widen your eyes and a deep moan leaves your throat. Your sensitive folds vibrate delightedly with each of his slow, firm lunges, your arms wrap around his neck and your hips move with his, in the room you can only hear the sounds of your bodies coming together and your wheezing moans, Jungkook grunts in your ear something after a particularly hard thrust and your eyes narrow, the thick tip of his cock is hitting a particularly sensitive spot that makes more moisture gush from your pussy.

"Jungkook, I'm coming again," you whimper softly inhaling his scent, the man nods as he continues to press into that sensitive area, and you move his hair behind his ear before leaving a kiss on one side of his neck. Then something makes you miss a beat. You hadn't noticed it before because it was hidden by his rather long hair, but just below his ear is a mark. It looks like a mark- a hickey -the color is tending toward purple and your heartstrings tug painfully.

You drive your nails into his shoulders with frost enveloping your limbs, you don't want to look any further, tears accumulate in the corners of your eyes and Jungkook blames your oncoming climax, he kisses them drying them with his lips and that gesture makes you scream internally, why is he so sweet and attentive? It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. With his free hand he reaches down between your bodies beginning to circle with his thumb around your clit, his pelvis moves faster, he is coming, soon he would fill you with his cum and for the first time ever you find yourself faking an orgasm with Jungkook, your delicate walls tighten around his cock, accompanying him to the end of his pleasure, but you feel nothing more. Jungkook collapses on top of you, kissing your forehead and cheeks, then finishing with your lips, but your heart is shattered. The man you love does not actually love you. "I love you, Y/N," he says, a lie you are no longer willing to believe.

There was always something wrong with the attention Jungkook was getting at school, you often attended the same classes and you always got the evil eyes of the other girls on you, you had even tried to ask the boy why, but he had always explained that they were simply jealous of your relationship and you were not supposed to pay attention to them. And you had believed him, after all, you always believed him. But now you regret giving him all that power.

"Jungkook, do you have another woman?" Your wedding is only a month away, and you can't marry a man who doesn't love you. Jungkook from his side almost chokes on his energy drink, he stares at you as if you had two heads instead of one, you are in the parking lot of his gym, you went to pick him up and you can tell he had recently showered, the ends of his hair are still damp and curled. "Shit, Y/N! Is that something to tell your future husband? We're getting married in exactly one month, heck no! I don't have another woman!" he blurts out seemingly speechless, you tighten your lips in response. "Hey ... Baby, what's going on?" he whispers softly, trying to take your chin between his fingers, but you quickly flinch away from him, who rolls his eyes in response. "What's going on is this, Jungkook," you growl, suddenly lifting some dark locks from his neck, exposing a small but remarkable detail. There are slight bite marks that are healing, you had noticed it a few days before, but you didn't have the courage to point it out, until now.

You're tired, you don't want to put up with such a situation anymore. "Stop teasing me, I hate it when you're so sweet to me, when it's clear that you're having fun behind my back with who knows how many other women!" you shout with glazed eyes, Jungkook immediately losing the confusion etched on his face, finally letting a serious and icy look shine through. "This is not the place to talk about this, Y/N. Let's go home," he hisses, not even trying to deny it one more time. This shocks you deeply. He doesn't seem to care that you finally know the truth. "I really think this is the right place, instead" you don't want to cry, so you hold back your tears by chasing them back, "You lied to me and betrayed me, I don't want to marry a man like you" the disgust in your voice makes him wince, if he thought he was going to solve things by using some bullshit catchphrases, well, he was very wrong. You make to get out of the car, you would have taken a cab rather than be with him again in that cramped and stifling space, you want to vent your emotions in a more secluded place, but Jungkook tightens a hand around your wrist.

"Don't you want to marry a man like me? My love, you may not realize that you have no other choice! We have always been together and we will always be together! You swore it to me more than once and you even did it in front of our parents!" he exclaims fiercely, tightening his grip painfully, you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. "You're hurting me," you murmur terrified by his sudden change. "Well, maybe you deserve it, don't you think?" he asks cruelly. You know Jungkook particularly cares about his parents' judgment, but you didn't think he would go that far to make them happy, so a worse doubt germinates in you. "You never loved me! You only want to be with me because our parents always wanted it that way" you want to vomit, were you really that blind? Jungkook quickly shakes his head, "Of course I love you, even though you're making me angry with this absurd talk of yours." "You don't love me, if you really loved me you wouldn't cheat on me with other women" you find the strength to break free from his grip, your pulse is red and pumping blood quickly. "I-" he freezes, his eyes dark with fury, "You don't understand, you can't blame me alone for all this!"

Jungkook knows he was wrong; in fact, he wouldn't have even wanted to start. But when you got together you were young and you had insisted on losing your virginity only once you had reached adulthood and thus the necessary maturity, you did not want your first time to be driven only by the pure hormonal instincts of two teenagers, and Jungkook had never had the courage to insist, because you seemed quite convinced about your ideas. But he needed what you were unwilling to give him, and so he cheated on you for the first time in a school bathroom after class, and he had hated himself no matter how many more countless times, but the more he got the more he wanted more, and even when you had finally given yourself to him, cheating had become an impossible vice to let go of, and the idea that you would always be left waiting for him was particularly tempting. But now it no longer seems that way; you want to leave, to leave him, and he cannot allow it. "You drove me crazy with your constant 'We're too young' or 'Let's wait a little longer'!" You open your mouth wide in shock, "No, don't blame me! You never told me you were against my ideas, and anyway, that's no reason to betray a person you say you love."

You have to get out of that car, you can't wait a second longer. The situation is worse than you thought, he has been cheating on you since the beginning of your story, you are nauseated. "You disgust me," you say before you open the door, you turn to get out, but suddenly your vision goes black, you feel Jungkook press his hand against your nose and mouth, before wrapping an arm around your neck.

When you wake up you realize you are no longer in the car, but you are not even in your house. The only thing you remember is Jungkook making you faint, then nothingness. You look around and what you see is a small room, the walls are lilac and it's littered with puppets of all kinds and colors, the mirror in front of the single bed you're lying on makes it clear the way you've been dressed. You're wearing a high school uniform and your hands are tied to the headboard, you widen your eyes and try to free yourself by pulling at the fabric used to hold you like that. "You've woken up." Jungkook makes his appearance from the bathroom connected to the small bedroom, he is adjusting his dark blue tie and you also notice his attire, he is dressed in a school uniform just like you. "What does all this mean, is this a joke?" you hiss less than amused, but Jungkook doesn't flinch. "I've come to a conclusion," he says as he approaches the bed, you try to get as far away from him as possible by bringing your free legs to your chest, you don't recognize the man in front of you, "I don't want to cheat on you, ever again."

He seems sincere, but you don't trust him. He has broken your heart too many times to deserve trust from you again. "I don't believe you, you're a liar," you say in fact, Jungkook tightens his lips. "I have my conditions," he says anyway, ignoring your words, "You'll still marry me and we'll make up for all the moments you made us miss," he murmurs dangerously, sitting down on the bed and letting a hand approach your thigh, you become an ice statue instantly, finally understanding the reason behind your uniforms. "You're crazy, I'm not going to marry you and we're not going to get anything back at all, to be honest I haven't had an orgasm with you in weeks, just the thought of a traitor like you touching me makes me lose the will to fuck," you murmur angrily, jerking away from his hand in a stinging manner. Jungkook narrows his eyes into two slits, he wanted to be nice to you, but you just don't understand. He's going to use forceful manners, then. "Why must you force me to hurt you, my love?" You look at him terrified, what does he mean?

"Jungkook, don't do anything you might regret, please." He grips your face hard in his hands, staring at you with those deep, dark pools you've always loved, pinning you in place before snapping a deep kiss. You stubbornly keep your lips tight, but Jungkook bites your lower lip forcing you to scream, his voluptuous tongue immediately making room in your mouth and groaning in protest as he plunders your oral cavity. "You'll change your mind, Y/N, by hook or by crook," he hums in your ear with a veil of amusement shining through his voice-who the hell is this man? Jungkook studies you carefully before running his hands over your hips, you shudder at his touch and his fingers stop above the buttons of your school blouse. "You will have only my body, Jungkook," you say in a colorless voice, trying to escape from that absurd reality, the boy opens your blouse, showing off the lace of your pink bra, he observes the graceful shape of your breasts longingly before returning his gaze to you. "I will have everything of you: soul, heart, body -- everything," he whispers before leaning over you, inhaling your scent straight from your bare skin.

"Where have you taken me?" "Haven't you figured it out yet?" You frown, then finally understand. It is his room from when he was a child, that means-. "We're at your parents' house." Jungkook nods. "Do you remember what happened in this room, Y/N?" Yes, you remember, but you don't want to say it out loud, that would make what Jungkook wants to do real. "You rejected me," he hisses suddenly, ripping your blouse off once and for all, you squeal in fright at his force and widen your eyes. He looks furious, his hands are shaking and his shoulders have stiffened under the weight of his fury, "I wanted you and you walked away! No matter how many times we did it when you made up your mind, you still rejected me and forced me to beg from other girls!" he exclaims, totally delirious before attaching his lips to the visible skin of your breasts, you wriggle trying to push him away, but he is too strong, Jungkook is not there with you. He is lost in his memories and blaming you for his betrayals.

Bitter tears accumulate in the corners of your eyes, it's not your fault. It's not your fault at all, but maybe... maybe if you had been more attentive to his needs, too, you would have been enough for him? When he grabs your pussy from above the fabric of your panties you arch your back against your will, his strong and powerful presence still has its hold on you and you tremble trying to stop yourself, you don't know if you are more scared or excited. "Jungkook-" "Say you're sorry," you widen your eyes. "What?" you gasp, his index finger going under the fabric and circling your slit. "Say you're sorry for rejecting me so many times, say you're sorry for all the times you made me feel like an ugly, worthless little boy!" You shake your head, "I never-" you groan, his index finger penetrating you and gently moving a few inches above your soaked entrance, you stiffen at the flame that suddenly invades your limbs. How does he still do this to you? After weeks spent in total apathy, it is now lighting you up in more ways than one, why?

Then you remember, " I don't want to cheat on you, ever again," are such simple words enough to get your body to react? Your body is corrupted by Jungkook, vibrating under his forbidden touch and practically purring, more moisture gushes from your slit, which widens to envelop the second finger Jungkook adds to his penetration, you are trembling trying not to push your hips against the boy, but it is harder than you thought. "I don't want you," you murmur, shaking your head, Jungkook looking at you firmly, tickling sensitive spots that only he knows and is able to reach. "Say it again as you come on my fingers, my love." An unsettling feeling of warmth swells in your lower abdomen. You deny it once more with your head, trying to stop your trembling legs, but it is too late, your walls tightening around his long, deft fingers, exploding in an orgasm you have longed for. "Why are you doing this to me?" you cry, moving your arms forcefully; Jungkook stops you, preventing you from hurting yourself with the ribbons that bind you.

"I wanted to make you pay for all the times you said no by making me feel like a poor, inexperienced fool," he says clutching your skirt with fingers smeared with your liquid pleasure, "But things got out of hand," he stammers, a stinger reaches your heart and your stomach sinks. You don't want to think about how many times he has devoted himself to another woman's body, it hurts too much. "You never told me about it," your words come out in a breathy voice, you try to hold back the sobs. Jungkook moves on top of you, "We will be happy, Y/N" he kisses your forehead moving between your legs, you feel him unzip his pants and enter you with one thrust, it is easy to enter you, you are completely wet and close your eyes listening to his rough, lustful sighs. His swollen cock moves penetrating you repeatedly, the bed moves under his precise and direct strokes and you squeeze your eyes shut, your clitoris throbbing and quivering seeking more direct stimulation and a sigh escapes your lips when the man presses his pelvis against your pubis, crushing your sensitive pearl while with the tip of his cock he reaches to stimulate a particularly receptive spot, you watch the strands of his hair sticking to your sweat-dampened forehead and his eyes begging you not to leave him.

"Y/N!" he moans your name while squinting, "Y/N!" he pushes harder between your soft walls and pulls with his arms on the ropes that keep you tied to the bed. "Jung-" you bite your tongue, refusing to moan his name, but the boy disagrees and demands that you look at him. "I'm sorry, I'll never cheat on you again, I mean it," he whimpers into your ear, "I only love you, only you," he moans and you find yourself closing your eyes, not wanting to give in, not really wanting to, but... "I'm-I'm sorry...for rejecting you" you stammer, pleasure rising once again and the hope of mending your relationship dancing in your chest, "I'm sorry for making you feel unfit." "The others... I just wanted to prove myself" thus confesses his feeling of inadequacy, you know you shouldn't forgive him anyway, but you love him too much, "But now I realize it's only to you that I have to prove something, forgive me" and so you let yourself be corrupted even in your soul. Just a gesture of your head is enough to allow him to come deeply inside you, your breath quickening as you reach for him clutching him in the deepest part of you, throwing your head back. Moments later he unties the knot that binds you to the bed and kisses your wrists softly, murmuring about how perfect you are for him and that once we were married, all would be forgotten because he only wants you. A tear slides down your cheek.

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chrisdr3 · 1 day

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Walk you home ~ OP81

TW: possible SA, blood, violence

Summary: Y/n is approached by a creep and someone she never expected helps her get away.

Monaco wasn't so lovely and safe at night. The cold summer breeze was getting to you through your jacket. You were walking home at a slow pace, returning from an exhausting day at work. Not wanting to waste time and energy walking, you took a detour through smaller, darker roads than following the main avenue.

You took a really dark one, between two of the biggest apartment complexes, that led one block behind your house. It was a really dark and long street, scaring you a bit. You opened your phone flashlight just in case and continued walking slowly, but carefully.

After a bit, you heard a strange sound, but convinced yourself that it was just a cat. Further into the street, you started having a strange feeling, like someone or something was staring at you.

You tried to ignore it as you were reaching the end of the street, reaching to light and people, and most importantly, your house. A few meters for the end, something grabbed your arm. You turned around slowly, only to see a creep gripping you with too much strength, making it impossible for you to escape.

He was a middle aged man, brunette, average height and a weird spark on his eyes. "Where are you going, pretty girl? It's so late to be walking by yourself. Come with me." He started dragging you with him by your arm, whilst you tried to kick his balls and screamed for help. He muffled you with his other hand, covering your screams. "Shh, be a good girl and don't scream or else-"

He suddenly stopped talking, his hands left your body and you heard him wincing in pain. The next moment, he was laying on the floor unconscious, a pool of blood escaping from his broken nose. A tall, pale, brown - haired boy was hovering over him, his fist covered in blood.

You stood completely stunned, not knowing how to react. The man cleaned his fist and approached you slowly, coming in the light. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" He asked. "No, I was lucky." "Yeah." He stuck his hand out to shake yours. "I'm Oscar-"

His sentence was cut off by you hugging him. "Piastri, I know you." You continued. "Thank you." All this was scary enough to make some tears escape your eyes. He rubbed your back hesitantly, trying to calm you down. "You're an F1 fan, huh?" He spoke. "Yeah..." "Great." There was an awkward silence. "Do you want me to walk you home?" He asked, breaking the deafening silence. "Please." You mumbled.

You walked to your house together, learning stuff about eachother on the way there. When you finally arrived, you exchanged numbers "just in case you need help or someone to have a drink with" as he said, you kissed his cheek as a thank you and he watched you get in your apartment, ensuring you'd be okay, and then headed to his own house.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri imagine

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pumpk1n-writes · 1 year

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Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. stalking, in-depth descriptions of how the reader would murder someone, Billy uses “princess”, reader is a bit insane}

Part Two | Word Count ~ 720 (sorry, this one’s pretty short. The next few parts will be longer — this is more of an intro than an actual part and I was rushing to finish it)

The media you consume is your own responsibility and I will not be held accountable for your choices. I’m not going to block minors from this account, but proceed with caution anyway.

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid

It was a normal Friday night for you, some old black and white horror movie on, parents gone, and homework lying forgotten about on the kitchen counter.

The phone behind you rang and you groaned, leaving it for a few moments before getting up to answer. “Who’s this?”

Somebody on the other end — clearly using a voice changer — began speaking. “Do you like scary movies?”

“Eh. I enjoy them but the suspension of disbelief needed for most of them is too much.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, for one, the way that the killers in a lot of them actually do it is disappointing. They hardly toy with their victims and just straight up kill them. There’s hardly any fear, it’s just a single moment of blood and gore before it’s over.”

Billy grinned underneath his Ghostface mask. “You’re an interesting girl, what’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know that right now. What’s your favorite color?”

Without thinking Billy answered. “Red.”

“Like blood?”

“Sure, princess. Like blood.”

“Princess?”

Billy smirked again. “Well if you’re not going to tell me your name I have to find something to call you. You got a boyfriend?”

“Oh god no. They’re all toxic little shits that don’t know how to act. Besides, it’s too messy to clean up their blood.”

A beat of silence then; “For legal reasons, that was a joke.”

And all of a sudden, you were a much more fascinating person than Billy had ever imagined you would be to him. He wanted to know everything about you, all your strange little habits and personality traits that made you the way you are, your daily schedule, what your blood looked like spilled over his blade and hands.

“Hello?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m still here. And I have more questions for you.”

“Well I’m getting kind of sleepy so hurry it up.”

Billy smiled to himself, using his binoculars to glance around your room. You sat up on your bed, playing with something he couldn’t see. You also — he noticed, blood pooling southward — were only wearing an oversized t-shirt.

“What would you do differently as the killer in those movies?” That wasn’t the question you’d expected. Maybe your favorite band or your least favorite food. Maybe your name again. But not how you would commit murder.

You thought for a moment, humming under your breath. “For one thing, I wouldn’t make it so obvious it was me. In a lot of those movies the audience is guessing who it is in the first five minutes. That wouldn’t be me. I’m pretty outgoing and bubbly around my friends anyway, so I wouldn’t really be a suspect. Plus, my friends say I’m wicked smart but no one can tell when they first meet me.”

Billy nodded to himself. That much was true. He would never have expected you, one of his classmates who sits next to him in English, to go so in depth on how not to get caught murdering people.

You kept going. “So I would play that up. Cry at any mention of my dead classmates, but not too much or it’ll get suspicious. I’d keep up the facade of ‘perfect student’ and act disgusted when anyone brings up how I killed them. That alone would help.”

Billy laughed. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.” But secretly he was taking notes.

“Sorry, I get really bored sometimes, and this is just what my mind strays to.”

Really? This is what your sick, twisted mind thought up in your free time? He wondered how many times he’d glanced over at you in English and you were plotting his death, spaced out with a happy smile on your face.

“Keep going, princess.”

“Well that’s just how I wouldn’t get caught. The actual murders themselves I would make as grisly and gory as I could think of so people would think a sweet, innocent, ‘perfect’ girl could never commit them. I would maybe draw satanic symbols on the wall in their blood or something to throw off police. I would only kill crackheads or past criminals so that the police wouldn’t really care very much to solve it. And I would only kill weeks apart so that they don’t feel immediately threatened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy was mostly thinking to himself, but still. He was impressed.

He also thought he might be falling in love with you a little bit.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface smut #angst #billy loomis #fluff #scream #scream 1996 #smut #series #fic #scream 1996 smut #billy loomis scream #stu matcher x reader #stu macher

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omitea · 2 months

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓

. synopsis. a halloween night that was supposed to be fun, quickly turned into a bloody mess in a small town named shibuya. one different path leading home and you come to face horror itself in the form of something undoubtedly inhuman. fortunately or unfortunately for you, your fate resides in the hands of the unknown before you.

. ft. vampire! choso x f! reader

. content. 2.9k words, vampire! au, mention of death, description of mild-gore, set in the 1890s (not too detailed), implied stalking, biting, mention of blood, choking, making out in the woods, grinding, palming, just overall highly suggestive.

it was a yearly tradition for the folks of shibuya to celebrate this specific holiday. halloween, is what they named it. suitable for the cold and spooky season. the noisy creaks of wooden carriage wheels sounded throughout the small town that was hosting a halloween festival. innocent children screeching as they reached the scary decorated vendors of boutique stores for trick or treat– often with their parents trailing right behind them.

most of them being occupied by the delicious pastries that some elders were selling on the streets. though it was frequently celebrated by wearing intriguing costumes, that not all preferred to. some think about it as time consuming, including a waste of their hard-earned money. while the rest found comfort in wearing clothes that fit their own selves. and you were amongst those people.

you were adorned in a traditional kimono printed with cherry blossom flowers that complimented your skin tone. along with a neatly wrapped bun, which allowed the fresh night air to brush against the apple of your cheeks. you hummed as you walked down the path where the festival was held. it should be starting soon, you think.

and as if on queue, your ears start picking up the booming music in the distance. music that the folks created with their own home-made instruments. precisely carved with metal and wooden tools that men ought to search for during their times in the country-side. a hard working man always seemed to sweep a lady right off her feet. and you were to agree– but unfortunately in this small town, some men were only thinking with their ‘manhood’, which is what you liked to tell them.

your feet carried you further into town, politely declining the nice elders that attempted to convince you into buying their sweet delicacies. with small bows and a few bumps into strangers, you finally managed to arrive at your destination. the view you had from this spot was perfect.

there was so much to see, such as; dressed up men walking on stilts, horses that carried carriages, and behind those– was a larger group of people. dancing their way up the front, engaging with the crowd and some of them were horrifying, along with a dash of makeup on their faces.

you felt a shiver traveling down the length of you spine– unable to shake off the uneasy feeling. you weren’t a big fan of halloween, but yet you found yourself drawn to the feeling of being scared. maybe it was the thrill or even the anticipation for what could happen next. although it was quite strange to mold the specific sensation into words.

suddenly, an eerie sounding scream could be heard; which caused you to snap out of your thoughts. the group of people who were dancing just now, running for what seems like their lives. the horses that once carried the carriages were neighing out of panic– just like the town folks. people were going haywire.

an awfully carved pumpkin made its way rolling towards your planted feet before being trampled on by a passerby that was running right past you. feeling partially confused and partially curious, you stood on your toes and peeked over the crowd. but to no luck, your view was mostly blocked. this caused you to push your way over; squeezing in between costumed bodies with a mix of alcohol and sweat. some being scented by the strong smell of nicotine.

after a few push throughs, you made it to the center. and in that exact moment you felt something beyond fear. you loved the color red. but this wasn’t the color red that tinted your lips, nor was it the color red that was polished on your nails. this was the color of blood. you felt your heartbeat racing as you stared at the disturbing sight in front of you.

someone, who you could make out as a woman, was laying as still as a stone on the pebbled ground. in her own blood. the dark red fluid seemed to be gushing out of her neck in spurts. chunks of clotted blood stained the tiny rocks, including the shoe soles and the clothes of the people who were too close. and if you’re about to move an inch more, you too, will become unfortunate.

you took a closer look at her white painted skin, meant to represent a ghost. well, she practically is now, you thought. your face turned into one of disgust as your eyes took in the wound on her neck. it looked as if something got caught on the piece of flesh and tugged on it with a harsh force. almost inhuman.

you felt a throbbing pain in your head– causing your vision to blur the slightest. i should go home, you think. trying to forget the image of a bloody crime scene, you took the long road home. you had to take your mind off things. at least for now. and a breath of fresh air should do the trick. maybe pour some delicious hot chamomile tea in your tea cup when you get home.

the cold gust of wind caused the leaves in the trees to rustle back and forth. it was quiet, almost too quiet for your liking if you must say. your footsteps sounded heavy on the brownish fall leaves, making them crunch and wither under your weight.

a small cloud of smoke escapes your parted lips when you let out a sigh you weren’t conscious of holding. still, it didn’t lift a single ounce of the weight that took place on your chest moments ago.

it made you feel sick to the stomach, worse than the stomach flu that comes around once in a while. the frightening screams, the sound of blood gushing out, the warnings parents gave their children to not look. it was all too much. maybe that’s why you weren’t fond of the holiday all along.

a snap of a twig made you halt. you felt the small hairs raise on the back of your neck, including on your arms. this is not what you needed after the night you just had. the woman’s death still seemed unreal– there was absolutely nothing insight that could’ve caused such a tragic death like hers.

you swallowed the saliva that was building up inside your mouth and took a step forward. you’ve heard about certain people’s stories of them getting stalked at night. and as sad as it may seem, you prepared in case the day would come. one punch in the sacks or boobs and you can flee. that’s what you always tried to convince yourself of.

another snap of a twig made you forget all the things you’ve taught yourself. so you ran. your eyes didn’t keep track of your surroundings, and soon, you found yourself in the woods. never go in the direction people won’t find you. especially at night.

heavy rain started to pour like a downfall. beads of water landing on the tree leaves and cascaded down towards the forming puddle of mud below. legs trembling in fear caused you to slow down your pace, but you pushed it aside and tried running faster.

you didn’t see the figure standing eerily still a few feet away and in just a few seconds, you felt a piercing pain and the familiar throbbing against your skull. salty tears mixed with the saltiness of the rain and flowing down to your chin. whether it was the cold that got you shaken up– or the fear, it didn’t matter. you had to get away.

pressing two palms against your temples did anything but soothe the pain. only making you hiss as the ache worsens. you froze when a pair of boots clouded your vision.

no. no, no, no.

not daring to look up, your eyes suddenly found the muddy ground more intriguing than the stranger that stood before you. it felt hard to swallow– to breathe and your hands came up to wrap softly around your neck. ‘’i apologize if i have scared you in some way, miss,’’ a deep voice cuts the silence in the air– most certainly belonging to no one else, other than this person.

and before you knew it, your eyes traveled up out of curiosity– landing on his figure. the sight before you could almost easily replace the one of horror earlier. how come you haven’t seen such a tall handsome man up until now. it should be against the rules of this town.

the said man was wearing a light tan robe that hung loosely on his body, along with a purple vest and a scarf. you could still make out that he had a muscular form, but you shouldn't think twice about it. that wouldn't be very lady-like, after all. his dark hair complemented his pale, almost white skin tone– including the questioning mark he had on his pointy nose.

your eyes regained focus from zoning out on the stranger and they immediately widened. the voice in your head basically yelled at you to pick up your feet and get the hell out of here. and indeed, you should be running away right now– but something feels off about him and it's trying to pull you in like a kinetic magnet. so you stay put. you don’t know where this suddenly came from, although the man in front of you doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed. he probably has women at his feet all the time, you thought to yourself.

he took a big step forward which made you back away, but you flinched when you felt your back hit the trunk of a tree. he was so close, you could almost feel the coldness of his breath against your cheek. your breath hitched in your throat the moment you held his gaze. “please-,’’ you said– just below a whisper, “i have to go home.’’

he hummed, as if in thought. “are you certain this is the right way?” at that, you felt your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. “what…?’’ you trailed off. “right way? of course it is.”

no. please.

you internally started panicking as a train of million thoughts went through your mind; he knows where you live, he knows your every move, he knew you would take this path, he was waiting for the right time…

he took notice of your state and inched his face closer. from this proximity, you could make out the way his dark eyelashes curled, the bow of his lips and oh— the stench of blood. it was strong. at each breath you took, it felt like the smell was burning through your nose and settling in your throat. but there was no speck of blood to be seen. his eyes darted from your face to your neck, making him part his plush lips the slightest. and that’s when you see it– sharp canines that stick out amongst the rest of his teeth.

a human has never been seen with such sharp teeth. it looked sharper than a blade, as if it could cut through layers and layers of flesh.

you tried to speak, to scream, but to no avail– not even a little sound managed to squeak out. shock and purely terrified topped all the things you were feeling.

his large veiny hand wrapped around your throat– squeezing it slightly only for his breath to shudder just by feeling your blood pulsing through your veins. dark eyes filled with lust the moment he looked at your desperate, teary eyes. shaking with fear, your smaller hands tried to pry his from around your neck, but it only caused him to put a little bit more pressure on your windpipe.

this caused a gasp to escape your throat, which made him quickly shut you up by placing his thumb between your lips. the action caused you to squeeze your thighs together– suddenly aware of the heat that started pooling between them. your chest felt hot– heaving up and down in anticipation. why did you like this.

maybe it’s because you’ve never let a man come this close before, or the inappropriate thoughts of the undoubtedly inhuman being before you.

that doesn’t matter. what you did know for sure, was that you had to go home to do something about the throbbing pain in your panties. but seemingly, the man had other plans for his night. he inhaled your scent in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes when he felt the uncomfortable feeling of something growing behind his robe. not now.

it was supposed to be a quick search for his next victim– but fuck you were too enticing. the bleary look you gave him as you silently begged for him to let you go– but behind those silent pleas, he could see, you too, were getting aroused. poor sweet thing.

you almost squirmed at the feeling of his fangs grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. so you subconsciously tilted your neck back to give him more access– to which he hummed in satisfaction.

a painful whine made its way past your red tinted lips as an indescribable sharp pain shot through your body along with two sharp teeth sinking in. your knees almost gave out, but his grip on you tightened. the vision of trees soon started to become blurry and your eyes felt heavy. you were for sure you were gonna pass out.

but what jumped you out of your dizzy state, was his wet tongue darting across the slope of your neck– cleaning up the warm iron-flavored fluid that cascaded downwards. a small moan sounded throughout the woods when you felt him suck and nibble on the bitten spot. he tilted his head up, heavy lidded eyes asking if you wanted this, if you wanted more. and like a desperate human being, you nod. almost too eagerly.

so he does just that. he presses you harder against the trunk and presses his knee between your thighs. fuck, not being able to feel you soaked through your kimono was torture. his lips meet yours and nothing could have prepared you for the feeling.

it starts a little clumsily from not having too much experience– but you quickly get the hang of it which leads to the kiss getting more heated. you felt his tongue peek out and swipe across your bottom lip. your small gasp gave it the chance to slip through your lips. just as the muscle explored the sweet taste, your eyebrows furrowed in grimace– tasting the iron from your own blood that still lingered on his tongue.

you tried to touch him anywhere you could reach. hands traveling from his chest down to his fully hardened bulge. this elicited a deep groan from the back of his throat. he didn’t expect you to start palming him, thinking you accidentally touched the spot.

he bucked his hips and your ears picked up his pretty moans the more effort you put into palming him. the rain that poured, almost drowned out the sounds that escaped his lips– which were still entangled with yours.

not having enough, you lazily started grinding against his knee that was in between your thighs. your eyes almost rolled in the back of your head– panting softly when he pressed into you deeper. “shit,” he sighed, pulling away and hiding his flushed face against the side of your head while his legs started to shake .

everything felt so good, he felt so close– that was until he heard a group of people coming. it was a few meters away, so he couldn’t risk it. not now, not ever. he got what he wanted and should’ve left minutes ago. yet you made it hard for him to leave. he had to taste you more than your blood. places he has never got to taste before.

he pulled away completely, making you whine at the lack of contact. you followed the direction his eyes were looking– taking note of the people making their way towards the depths of the woods. you turned back, brows furrowing in confusion at the sight in front of you.

he was gone, just like that.

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and placed it on your neck afterwards. your fingers lingered on the two dots he left behind, and everything soon began to sink in. if someone were to ever say you'll end up almost having sex in the woods with a stranger– you would’ve laughed in their faces and called them crazy. especially if that particular stranger almost sucked the life out of you.

you shook your head and started heading home– something you were supposed to do the moment you saw that woman’s neck sliced open.

and as you’re walking down the path leading towards your loving home, you can’t help but think; was he the one who murdered that defenseless woman.

but that was another thought– as for now, you still have to take care of the soaking mess he left you with.

@satorisoup @kiitoru @seneon @sugurustattoo @saturvue @xstom @lapin0u

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

196 notes · View notes

inhuman-obey-me · 4 months

Note

Diavolo with 🕶 and MC please? I excited to see what you’d do with that?

"I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide." - Diavolo/MC

There is a whistling through the rustle of the tree branches, high-pitched and ringing in your ears like alarm bells.

Just the wind, you try to tell yourself -- but the wind has never sounded so uncannily steady with its song. Nor, usually, do you expect to hear faint words hidden in its screaming -- Die. Die. Die. But that too, surely, is just a trick of your mind?

Well, this is the Devildom, after all. The strange and unexpected are to be expected.

You don't know how to tell your lover, crown prince of this very land, that his realm still unsettles you from time to time. He has always tried his very best to make you comfortable here. He himself is proof that terrors are not always so terrifying. His wings, gilded black and extended so wide that they could have blocked out any sun if one existed here, had terrified you the first time you'd seen them in full. But, so too does the expanse of them feel gentle and loving when he wraps those wings around you, a dark cocoon in which you share your secret passions.

You love him, and you love his realm. Scary though it may be, it's beautiful, too, and you try to focus on that. This world is not so dangerous as your human instincts would have you think.

Still -- did the trees you pass on your way home always look like these?

You realize it for certain when a whisper of the breeze against your face sends a chill shivering through your whole body.

Die. Die. Die!

This is not the way home. And you are not alone here.

"Who's there?" you call out, keeping your voice as steady as you can. You have been warned not to show fear -- demons can sense it, and they love the smell of it upon their prey. "Show yourself."

Die! Die! Die!

The whistling twists into a hideous laughter, and a wavering silhouette begins to coalesce before you, its form shimmering back and forth between handsome man and beautiful woman, though you know this creature is neither.

"Puny human, daring to command me?" Its words crackle like static, caught between channels of fury and delight. "Well, I am right here. But you are the one keeping secrets, lost little lamb."

To your surprise, you recognize this voice. It is one of your classmates at RAD, one that you had always found generally pleasant towards you. "Bealphares? What do you mean?"

"I never minded Lord Diavolo's plans for harmony between the realms. I didn't object to the exchange program, when so many others did. I didn't think humans were so bad. But then, today, I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide," it trills, the end of its tirade whipping back into a shriek. "Did you think a pathetic little human like you has any right to our prince?"

In an instant, the air leaves your lungs as if pulled, your ribs crushing inwards at the sudden emptiness, and you drop to your knees. You try desperately to cast a spell to protect yourself, but your breath is too empty to form the words. Bealphares steps closer, cupping your face in its hands as it leans in close to hiss, "The prince of demons belongs with a demon."

"Stop there, Bealphares."

A great shadow falls over you both, as terrifying as the day you first saw it, and Diavolo's commanding presence swoops neatly down beside you. His golden eyes glow wild with a kind of anger you've rarely ever seen in him, and the air around him grows hot with raw magic.

"Lord Diavolo!" Bealphares releases you at once, scrambling to bow before its prince. You gratefully gasp in the crisp night air as the lesser demon anxiously spits out, "I-I can explain!"

"Very well. Explain." Your beloved's cold expression does not change, glaring down at your attacker. "Explain to me, Bealphares, spirit of air, why I've arrived to find one of our human exchange students on the verge of death at your hands. That's a grave offense, to try to attack one of my guests, here in the realm I rule."

Diavolo's voice rumbles like the deep shaking of a volcano, and his fangs glint dangerously in the moonlight as he speaks. Are they longer than usual? Sharper, too, you think -- though it's hard to tell, as the light distorts around the little embers that begin wisping out with each word.

"I will give you your chance to try to justify yourself. But keep this in mind -- I have the power to tell truth from lies. And if I do not find your answer to my satisfaction, Bealphares, I will carry out your punishment personally."

He takes a heavy step between you and the demon -- protective in one sense, threatening in another. His wings are outstretched so wide that you can hardly even see the other past them, with golden veins weaving glowing energy throughout. Though you cannot see, you hear the wind of the demon's voice faltering in the heat of the air as it whimpers, failing to form words.

"Now, go on then. Explain."

289 notes · View notes

kiyoomi-levin · 4 months

Text

here for you (yan!Suna RinatroxF!reader)

a/n this has been a wip for so long... enjoy! i'm working on a atsumu [nsfw] fic so be on the lookout for that next (unless adhd takes over and i start working on a different one instead)!

summary:: As a pro athlete and model, he's nice enough. And yet...there’s something in your gut that says you should stay away. word count:: ~4.4k warning(s):: non-con (no smut/SFW), suna's a grade A creep/stalker, yandere!!, isolation, stockholm syndrome, horror??(i tried to make this scary but it's really not lol) Music rec:: joke's on you - charlotte lawrence

As an aspiring journalist, your dreams had all but come true when you were hired as an intern at the most prestigious sports media center in Tokyo.

You get to shake hands with athletes you see on television daily and most importantly, you had received an actual assignment.

Gone were the days of running around to get your manager coffee and spending the day shredding documents. Instead, you had been tasked with creating an in-depth piece into the most popular athlete of the year— Suna Rintaro of EJP Raijin.

You still vividly remember your first time meeting him.

You’d been star-struck— a tall, gorgeous man you had only ever seen through a screen was standing in front of you.

Smiling. Holding out his beautiful hand for you to shake.

Despite his casual demeanor, there was something off about him. Maybe it was your nerves, or the cold air circulating in the office, but there was a tug in your stomach that was warning you.

At the time, you had plastered an excited grin on your face and scolded yourself.

But looking back— his eyes were quite cold, weren’t they?

You just can’t explain why you feel sick whenever you see him. In fact, despite the great task ahead of you—interviewing and writing up an article on Suna— you had been avoiding him.

There’s just something in you that dreads looking into his sharp green eyes.

It doesn’t help that in spite of your best efforts, you strangely run into him everywhere-- on and off the court.

“Suna?”

Your voice comes out squeaky and clearly nervous.

Are your eyes deceiving you? Why would he be here, in the middle of the cereal aisle, at the small grocery store next to your dingy apartment? You have to do a double take before you can confirm that yes, it is in fact him.

It’s late, and it’s only you, Suna, and the tired store manager. Though, at this moment, it feels like it’s only the two of you in this world.

“Oh. Hey, y/n,” Suna says casually, flashing you his famous smirk— the one that has his fans screaming and crying. He’s on his knees, reading the back of a granola cereal.

Suna turns back to the aisle in front of him, finally placing a box into his basket. Your brain registers it as your favorite flavor (the unhealthy, chocolate-y type that you’re sure athletes shouldn’t be eating).

What a coincidence.

“What are you doing here?”

You live on the edge of Tokyo, an unfortunate 30 minute subway ride to get to the sports arena you’re working at. And you know, from Suna’s player profile, that he lives in a luxurious high-ceiling apartment only a few blocks away from there.

“What do you mean?” Suna asks, frowning. He seems genuinely confused.

Are you the crazy one?

“Oh, it’s just… so random, you know?”

Your throat is tightening now and you feel unable to even swallow.

There are alarms blaring inside of your head, as if every fiber is irrationally telling you to run.

Suna glares at you, sharp eyes studying your smaller stature.

God. Another reason why you don’t like this man— he’s just too difficult to communicate with.

“You live quite far away, right?”

Seconds pass and you’re beginning to worry you’ve said something wrong or offensive when Suna finally stands, sighing as he turns toward the registers.

“No. I just moved to Kamikitazawa.”

You feel that tingle again.

“What a coincidence!” You say, recovering quickly.

Fuck. You sound especially stupid right now.

But could you help it? Suna, a multi-millionaire, moved into your apartment building? The one inhabited by broke college students and poor retirees?

Was he struggling financially? Did he have a secret child like some rumors alleged? Wait, is he—

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”

Suna and you are standing at the cash register now, and he turns to gently smile at you. You feel yourself softening.

Why were you scared, anyways? He’s a world-famous athlete and model.

Your premonitions have been wrong in the past— like when you thought your boss, Kuroo, would be upset with you accidentally deleting his PC files.

“I see,” you murmur, “well… the apartment is kind of… there’s a lot of problems, you know?”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. You sound like a broken radio.

There's an awkward silence as you and Suna both try to find the words to say.

This is why you hate talking to him, he expects you to do all the work!

"You should know that the third elevator isn't that good. It always gets stuck on floor two. And the garbage chute at the end of every hall is kind of hard to open. You have to," you make a pulling motion, "really yank, ya know?"

Silence. Suna stares at you blankly.

You're just an absolute loser, aren't you?

He's gonna cringe, or worse, tell your advisor that you're being overfamiliar with him, an athlete 5 years your senior…

As you stand in your cheap winter boots, shivering, Suna suddenly laughs.

It's not the quiet chuckle you see him release when he's joking with Komori, but a head-throwing, mouth widening laugh.

"Uh..." you stutter, nervous.

It takes a full minute before he finally stops, silently pink at the face.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," he says, lifting his shopping basket.

You nod repeatedly, nerves subsiding.

"Wanna walk back together?" Suna asks.

You hesitantly nod. Why not? It's late and dark, and though the neighborhood is calm, it never hurts to have a walking buddy.

On the walk home, to your surprise, Suna begins to talk about his team and compliments you for your article on the top liberos. You’ve never seen this side of him. There’s a reason why he’s so beloved— he’s a mystery.

You’re nearly zoning out as the two of you reach your apartment complex.

"Am I boring you?" Suna suddenly asks.

It's such an unexpected question, you falter for a second.

"No! I'm just... I feel relaxed. I like hearing your voice," you say, surprised.

Suna lets out a sigh of relief as he punches in the door code to the building.

"So. As I was saying, you want me to give you a ride tomorrow?"

"What?”

"A ride. To the arena." He says, enunciating every word as if you're a child.

"It's okay," you start, “I—”

"Take the subway, yeah. But it's a hassle, right?"

No, it's not. In fact, it's pretty nice, seeing strangers off to their desired destinations.

But it's as if he can read your mind.

"I’ll give you a ride."

It's not a question anymore.

"Alright," you murmur.

The short journey to your floor is now awkward, and you’re wishing you had turned down his offer to walk together.

The two of you are almost at the end of the hallway now, at your apartment door. To your horror, Suna doesn’t continue walking.

Instead, he simply turns around and reaches for the doorknob of the apartment just across from you.

Strangely, you’re just now noticing just how narrow and dark this hallway is.

Under the cheap fluorescent lights, you can only see the man in front of you. Suna’s pale hands flex as he easily readjusts his heavy grocery bags, reminding you he could take you out in a moment.

“Wow. Looks like we’re neighbors, huh?” Suna says, stepping into his flat.

You’re blinking up towards him, breath cut short.

“See you tomorrow, y/n.”

Funny. He didn’t sound surprised.

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

You're just tying your hair when the doorbell rings.

"y/n, you ready?"

Who would’ve imagined hearing the Suna Rintaro’s voice at 9 AM.

You sigh as you take a final glance into the mirror. You couldn’t completely hide the dark eye circles from your lack of sleep— who’d be able to sleep after learning a celebrity lives practically next door?

Taking a deep inhale, you push open your front door.

You instantly feel yourself healing as you take in Suna. It’s a similar effect to watching your favorite idols perform on stage— good looks work wonders on your tired body.

Suna leans against the wall, wearing a pair of black sweats and a thin blue hoodie. With a start, you can't help but notice it's almost a couple set with your blue sweater and black skirt.

"Good morning," he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. You nod in response.

As you walk down the hall together to the elevators, you can't help but flush. Is this what it'd be like to have a boyfriend? As a student dedicated to her craft, you’d never felt the urge to date, remaining single your entire life. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be Suna Rintaro’s.

“Oh! What’s this!” Kiana, a middle-aged woman, calls out as you and Suna wait for the elevator.

“y/n! You never told me you got a boyfriend! And such a handsome one, too! Oh, if I was only a little younger…”

You and Suna make eye contact and you blush, quickly turning towards the smiley woman, ready to retort.

“We’re—” You barely make out a word before Suna suddenly takes your hand.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Suna Rintaro, y/n’s boyfriend. I just moved into apartment 306.”

At his words, both your and Kiana’s eyes widen.

Yours in confusion, hers in wonder as she recognizes the handsome stranger.

“I know you! I know you! You’re Suna, from that team! Oh, my son is such a fan! I can't believe you're living here! He’ll be so excited."

As Suna and Kiana make small talk, you try to discreetly shake your sweaty hand out of Suna’s grasp. To your bewilderment, he continues gripping onto it, so hard you can feel his short fingernails digging into your soft skin.

To your relief, the elevator chimes, and as Suna waves goodbye (you do too, out of habit), you gasp as he yanks you into the elevator.

"What was that?" You ask, nervously looking up at your ‘boyfriend.’

Suna’s eyes are hard as he stares down at you, but he’s glowing all the same, as if he’d just received a gift.

“Saying we’re a couple. What was that about?”

Suna hums innocently.

"I just thought it would be most convenient to tell her that. People will see us together from now on."

No, they won't.

“It would confuse them to have to explain you’re an intern.”

Was that so complicated?

But with his mischievous smirk and the way he taps his foot against the elevator floor, you just can’t find the courage to refute.

“Alright… but could you let go?” You ask uncomfortably.

"Ah, right," he says, letting you free.

You rub your hands together, easing the circulation back.

Strangely, it feels especially cold without his grip on you.

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

"Wake up."

Awakening with a start, you rub your eyes.

You can't help but admit you could get addicted to free rides with Suna.

His car is just too nice; the seats are fluffy and he turned on the heater to just the right temperature and there's soft piano playing from the speakers.

How long have you been out?

Taking in your surroundings, you're surprised to find you're already at the Tokyo Volleyball Arena. You almost jump in shock as you realize what’s warming your lap— a box of your favorite strawberry waffles.

“What’s this?” You question as Suna wordlessly hands you a fork.

"I thought you might be hungry.”

Suna slides a cup into your open hand— matcha.

So he is a nice man, after all.

“Wow, Suna! Let me please pay you back!”

Your stomach grumbles as you take a bite of the sweet breakfast.

“No, no, it’s on me.”

How could you make it up to him? Maybe you should bake him cookies or something… you shift in your seat, frowning as you realize your bare thigh is strangely damp. Rubbing your thighs together, your eyebrows furrow.

“Oh,” Suna says, biting into his scrambled eggs, “sorry. That was me, I got some coffee on you while you were sleeping, so I wiped it away," he says sheepishly, gesturing towards the pack of wet wipes in the glove compartment.

He looks embarrassed, avoiding eye contact, so you don't push it any further.

He's kind of cute, you think.

It kind of feels too perfect– the plush comfort of Suna’s luxury car, the sweetness of the waffles, and the delicious matcha, albeit slightly salty.

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

"Hey, y/n, which movie should we watch?" Suna calls from your couch.

You're in the kitchen, preparing popcorn in your small microwave.

"Studio Ghibli!" You shout back, stirring the hot chocolate, “I have a whole bunch downloaded, just choose one.”

It's become a regular occurrence for the two of you to spend much of your free time together. At first, Suna had gently coaxed you into spending time with you under the guise of doing more research for the article you’re writing about him, but now you’ve grown to genuinely enjoy his company.

From morning rides to office lunches to casual dinners, it's like your life has been consumed by Suna. Your gut had been wrong, after all, because Suna treats you like a girlfriend— although you’d long shook away that silly thought— he’d never see a younger, broke student that way.

But despite your brain knowing everything is just fine, your heart has yet to be rewired. It still pounds with discomfort, as if it knows that fundamentally, something’s wrong.

You just can’t identify or place a label on that problem.

More recently, you’ve been getting hit with strong deja vu from that one night at the grocery store months ago.

As if it’s only the two of you on this planet.

Sighing, you take your place next to Suna, glancing at your phone. It remains still, screen dark.

“What’s wrong?” Suna asks, frowning. He pushes up his black glasses, running his fingers through his damp hair.

You hesitate. It’s fine to share this, right? After all, it feels like Suna’s all you have right now.

“Well… I’m not sure why, but I think my friends are mad at me. For the past few months, they’ve been silent. They don’t really respond to me anymore, and when they do they just say they’re busy.”

Suna nods, reaching for your hand. You welcome the warmth of his fingers, blinking back tears.

“And even worse, my family hardly contacts me. I used to call my mom basically everyday. I think there’s something really wrong, Suna, I’m really worried.”

“How long has this been going on?” Suna has the movie paused now, full attention on you. He gently strokes your hair and the kind gesture has tears pooling in your eyes.

“For a few months… maybe… four? I didn’t realize it at first because of how busy I’ve been at work and with the article I’m writing on you,” you mumble, allowing Suna to embrace you.

He’s gently rocking you back and forth now, rubbing your back, whispering kind words into your ear, telling you it’s okay and they’re probably just busy too…

Minutes pass before you finally look up, eyes widening as you take in his facial expression.

Despite his sweet words, Suna’s eyes are completely blank and there’s a questionable, small smile on his face. You barely recognize him.

“y/n?”

You blink, and take in an inaudible breath as you stare at Suna.

He cocks his head, confused. He looks at you with nothing but affection and concern, thin lips pressed into a frown.

Your heartbeat slows as you realize that, yet again, you’d just been seeing and feeling things wrong— whenever you’re around Suna, it’s as if you lose sense of your surroundings.

Smiling, you sniffle as you wipe away your tears.

“Sorry for getting emotional at movie night.”

Suna grins, giving you a final gentle hug before turning back to the television.

“Don’t be. I’m always here for you, y/n.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Q: Suna, this question has been long requested by your fanbase. How do you express love?

A: Dedication. I give my all to my lover, no questions asked.

Oh, and I don’t like to share.

There’s suddenly a knock at your door, causing you to jump. You put down your laptop, where your open article draft sits nearly complete.

The lightning storm outside has you shaking and you just wish Suna was here, holding you and laughing at his silly responses to your even stupider interview questions.

Another knock at the door.

Strange— Suna’s practice runs for extra long today for his upcoming tournament. Maybe he finished early.

“Suna, why didn’t you call before practice finished? We could’ve gone out for dinner,” you scold as you pull open the door.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Standing in front of you is your furious older sister, drenched from the rainstorm outside.

“Oh my god! Come in!” You say, alarmed. You reach towards her wrist, but she remains planted in place.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She’s angrier than you’ve ever seen her.

“How could you tell us to fuck off? You really think your journalism is that important? Your writing isn’t more important than family, you asshole! It’ll never be important!”

Taking a deep breath, your sister lets go, immediate regret evident on her face. She opens her mouth to apologize, but you’re not having any of it.

Anger is coursing through your body now and you shove your sister away, causing her to stumble against Suna’s door.

Your family has never supported your career— from when you were just a child, you’d had to work hard for your own future.

So this is why they had shunned you? Because they can’t stand seeing you successful? Because you had moved away from the countryside to make something out of yourself in the city?

Tears stream down your face as you tremble.

“My writing is important,” you whisper. Your sister nods quickly, opens her mouth again—

“Don’t come by anymore. Don’t consider me a part of the family anymore.”

“No, I’m sorry— I think there’s a miscommunication, y/n! Wait!”

Slamming the door on her shocked face, you stumble towards the couch.

It feels as though you’re going to die— the room spins as your lungs strive for air and your vision is becoming increasingly blurry.

The sound of rain and your sister pounding on the door intertwine, and as you bury your head into a pillow, you really just wish Suna was at your side.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“y/n?”

Someone’s tugging at your sleeve, and you glance up, blinking uncomfortably at the bright lights of the living room. There’s dried tear streaks on your face and you’re sure you look like a miserable ogre, but Suna looks at you with nothing but compassion as he hugs you, alarmed.

He’s slightly damp—probably a combination of sweat from practice and the rain outside—but you hold onto him eagerly as he eases you onto his lap.

“What happened?”

You shake your head, explaining what had happened in the few hours when he’d been gone.

Suna’s furious on your behalf, jaw tight and fists clenched.

“Thank god I told your sister to fuck off. She was standing at your door, yelling curses and threatening to call the police,” he mutters.

Tears spring to your eyes again. This only confirms the reality of your life now— your family (and probably friends, too) absolute despise you.

“Don’t worry, y/n. I’ll always be here for you,” Suna whispers.

His words are somewhat like a relaxant to you. Taking a deep breath, you lean into his chest, sighing.

“I don’t think I can write anymore, Suna. I don’t want to. What have I been working towards my whole life?”

Suna remains silent for a moment, studying your sorrowful face, before leaning in to brush his nose against yours. Your eyes shift, admiring his gorgeous olive ones.

“Your journalism is amazing, y/n. And… if you hadn’t worked so hard, we might’ve never met, right?”

You smile sadly.

“I guess…”

“y/n, how about you wrap up your article tonight? You’re almost done, aren’t you?”

You gesture towards your open laptop on the coffee table.

“It’s done, but it’s shit. My sister’s right, it’s not worth anything,” you say, embarrassed. You’ve always known you were talentless, which is why you’ve always worked harder. But it amounted to nothing in the end.

You press your cold hands against your burning eyes as Suna picks up your laptop, skimming through what you’ve written about him.

If even he hates it… that’s it. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to go on.

“y/n, will you look at me?”

Suna’s gently tugging at your hands covering your face. Biting your lip nervously, you let him take your hands into one of his.

“Want my honest opinion?” He asks, placing the laptop onto your lap. You nod, staring down at the bright screen.

“This is the best thing anyone’s written about me.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie.”

“y/n. I’m serious. This shows exactly the side I wanted the public to know about me. It’s intimate, but written formally enough to be taken seriously by the media.”

When you don’t respond, Suna sighs sadly.

“I guess you don’t want the opinion of a dumb athlete, though…”

Frantically, you look up, shocked.

“Of course not! Suna, your opinion is everything to me!”

Relief settles in your stomach as Suna grins, eyes shining.

“Really?”

“Of course! Thank you… That really means a lot to me.”

Suna nods, rambling about how much he loves that sentence here, the use of punctuation there…

“What’s wrong?” He asks, noticing you look down again.

“I… just feel like I have nobody but you, Suna.”

Suna smiles at you, waving towards the polaroids of your friends and family hung on the wall.

“I’m sure they’ll come around again, y/n.”

Your nose crinkles as you cringe at the photos. You want them gone. You want all of the references towards them gone.

You want to get out of here.

“I hate this apartment, actually. They helped me decorate it and everything,” you sigh.

“Well then, how about we move out together?”

You fiddle your thumbs, headache threatening to return.

“I don’t have that type of money,” you say, frustrated. It’s easy for a world-class athlete like him to just up and leave, but you’d never be able to, not unless you dropped out of school and found a job elsewhere.

“y/n, I’ve just remembered. I have an apartment near our stadium, right? How about you move there for the rest of your internship?”

You hesitate. Intruding into the home of a man you’re not even in a relationship with? While the offer is tempting…

“Don’t worry about anything, y/n. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Suna’s gently rubbing circles onto the side of your hands and you feel like melting away, exhausted.

All that crying and anger has truly taken a toll on you. Your eyelids flutter as you finally nod.

“Okay.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure?”

Now that it’s come to actually burning the photos, you’re hesitating. Aside from the few photographs on the walls, your apartment is completely bare, all of your belongings now residing in Suna’s luxury condo.

“y/n. You don’t need them anymore.”

You pause, the lighter in your hand feeling heavier by the second. With this, you’re truly erasing all parts of your former family and friends. Just then, your phone buzzes— you barely need to look at it to know it’s a string of curses from your ex-best friend.

Suna grimaces as he deletes the message, examining you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re right, Suna. I don’t.”

You watch as the pictures go up in flames, holding back tears.

Looking around your now empty apartment, Suna wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I always thought your walls would look better bare.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In and out.

There’s something so comforting about the way you breathe.

You’re lying motionless on Suna’s large bed, curled into a ball.

Adorable.

Sighing, Suna collapses next to you, admiring your eyebrows, the curve of your nose, your lips…

When was the last time he’d felt this content? Reaching out, Suna gently tucks your hair behind your ears, admiring the small s shaped earrings adoring them.

Bringing you here was the best option. It’d taken him a little longer than he’d hoped, but now you were truly in the palm of his hand.

He’d almost slipped up a few times (your gut was much smarter than you) but everything had worked out, hadn’t it.

Since the day he’d first met you nearly a year ago, Suna knew you’d be his.

He’s not sure why, but there’s this thing about him— sometimes, when he sees something, he wants it.

And he’ll do anything to make sure it’s entirely his.

You mumble in your sleep, rolling over to face the large windows that present the city of Tokyo below his feet.

He has it all now.

His phone vibrates— messages from your concerned father.

Rolling his eyes, Suna silently reaches over to your phone, which lies innocently next to your small hand, and unlocks it (the password being his birthday, obviously).

Without hesitation, Suna begins wiping out all traces of the code he’s implanted into your phone.

There would be no more reason to reroute your messages to himself anymore.

Next, Suna makes sure all of your family and friends’ contacts are blocked.

Ensuring your safety is a top priority of his.

He squeezes your device in his large hand, wondering if he should just break it.

If Suna had it his way completely, he’d rather you not have a phone at all.

Tossing your phone back onto your side of the bed, Suna smirks as he unlocks his own device.

Desperate messages from your sister pop up, warning you of your tall neighbor, he threatened to kill me if i didn’t leave y/n please get away from him and go to the police!

Suna slides his thumb across the screen, removing the messages from his screen, and disconnects his phone from yours.

After all, you wouldn’t be getting contacted by those nuisances anymore.

Almost done, then he can sleep peacefully with you—Suna sends the email he’s been working on: a PDF attachment of your final draft of your article on him and a short message of your resignation as an intern, written by yours truly.

Turning over, Suna locks the bedroom door, smiling.

There’s no need for anyone else.

Not when he’s always going to be here for you.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro yandere #haikyuu yandere

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 4 months

Text

Ghost Bookshop Romance Headcanons

CoD ML

📖 Ghost is secretly quite bookish, having found refuge in novels during his youth and now even as a grown man. He especially loves bakery and coffee shop romances, though he’d never admit this outright.

📖 No one asks what he’s reading when they see him sitting with his e-reader, more often than not smoking as well.

📖 Those who are brave enough to ask only get glared at in answer and walk away, tail tucked between their legs.

📖 When he’s on leave, back home in Manchester, he watches out for a particular girl he’s seen at Waterstones. Pops by there for hours on end, drinking coffee, smoking outside yet near the shop, all in the hope he’ll bump into you.

📖 Your face looks familiar to him, but he can’t remember where he’s seen it if ever he has. Nonetheless, it’s enchanting, a strange though pleasant (and thoroughly distracting) imprint on his memory.

📖 Unbeknownst to him, you’re secretly his favourite author. However, you barely have any photos out there, preferring the anonymity of your pen name. It doesn’t help you haven’t published in a while due to being grabbed tightly in the vicious maws of writer’s block. Henceforth, despite the loyal fanbase, there’s little talk about your works or you yourself.

📖 One day he catches you sitting in one of the chairs dotted around the store, reading. Finally, at long last, he has the chance to talk to you!

📖 Simon has a whole plan. First he’d ask you what you’re reading and your opinion on it thus far, gradually leading the conversation towards your recommendations and favourites. It’s essential to gain that info because there’s always plenty to say and discover about books. Then, he’d ask you for tea, show you he isn’t as scary as he looks.

📖 But, like out in the field, there can be unforeseen circumstances.

📖 He didn’t account for the goosebumps on your skin, the slight shiver that has you shaking despite your efforts to suppress it.

📖 “Trying to catch a cold?” Simon crouches down before you, takes off his heavy leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s warm, infused with the scent of nicotine, black pepper, gun oil, gasoline, and black tea.

📖 For a moment you stare at him, gobsmacked. After all, you don’t meet someone in a skull balaclava at Waterstones on the daily. Nevertheless, after wrapping his jacket around you a little tighter and deciding he means no harm, you find your voice. “Not consciously. Guess I’m not particularly good at dressing for the weather.”

📖 “No, you’re not.” He chuckles at your expression, a mixture of shock and surprise. Much to his delight, Simon senses you’re not offended by his bluntness. “Fancy a cuppa? My treat.”

📖 “Only if you tell me your name.”

📖 “For now, call me Ghost.”

📖 “Cheshire. Pleased to meet you.”

📖 “Like the cat?”

📖 “Indeed.” The way you tilt your head, eyes bright with defiance and granting him a glimpse of the walls you’ve carefully constructed around yourself, sends electricity through his nerves. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

📖 Simon usually keeps people at a distance, even the taskforce, but he’ll gladly take on the challenge of getting closer. “Yeah.”

📖 As per his promise, he pays for the tea and a scone to share. He cuts it in half, giving you the thicker top part while he settles for the thinner bottom bit.

📖 He doesn’t know how, but as he watches you smear jam and only the tiniest bit of clotted cream on the pastry it hits him. Finally he recalls who you are, where he’s seen you before.

📖 “Cheshire,” he begins, wanting to breach the topic carefully. Still, it’s hard to not get distracted by how you’re innocently enjoying your scone, enough to unintentionally give him the opportunity to wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth. However, to restrain himself, Simon tucks his hands in his lap. “Have you by chance heard of (your pen name)?”

📖 He clocks how you stiffen. Bingo. “How do you know that name?”

📖 “I… I’m… I’m a fan. Inked Monsters is the first book of yours I read. I liked how you discussed the prejudice against age gap relations, lone wolves, and heavily tattooed people. Made me feel heard.”

📖 You can’t help but chuckle, amazed at this giant’s enthusiasm for your novels. “What’s so funny?”

📖 “Nothing, it’s just… you don’t strike me as the type to like my writing. I’m glad to hear it touched you, though.”

📖 “Well, I am. But yours is the only one in the genre I really like. I’m not a big fan of fairy tales or retellings, but yours,” he glances at his cup, comically small in his big hands, “I… I do… a lot.”

📖 “Glad to hear it.”

📖 “How’s it going with Sugar Hood and Flannel Wolf? Haven’t heard or seen anything about it for a while.”

📖 You snort because ‘for a while’ is a severe understatement considering it’s been three years. The fanbase exploded with supportive messages when you announced you were writing another modern fairytale. This time, it would be about a lumberjack grumpy werewolf and a young woman who runs a bakery after her grandma’s passed away.

📖 And there’s the key phrase.

📖 Would be.

📖 “I’m suffering from writer’s block, which also drives my publisher and agent up the bloody wall. They still earn enough thanks to me to not cancel my contract, but I don’t think I’ll be able to publish soon… if ever again.”

📖 The way you look down into your tea, head bowed low and eyes sad, breaks his heart. “How so?”

📖 “When a hobby turns into a profession, there’s the pressure to perform, to deliver. I used to write for fun, but now it feels like a chore and I feel nothing but guilt for not doing it. Doesn’t help I’m stuck on the plot.”

📖 “You need a rubber duck.”

📖 You look up at him, feeling like you lost the plot. “A rubber duck?”

📖 “Talk through your problems to a rubber duck and you’ll see the solution presents itself. This duck can also be… someone.”

📖 “Are you asking to be my rubber duck?”

📖 “Proofreader, at most. If you’d allow it.”

📖 “A second opinion wouldn’t hurt.” You smile to yourself and shake your head. “A ghost reader.”

📖 Little do you know that that is what gets him going. “Let’s make this a two-man project. You write, I read, and we get through this together. Fuck deadlines and to hell with the people pressuring you to write. This is our plan, our mission. Getting that book out.”

📖 You giggle, a sound he archives for later. “My God, you’re headstrong. It’s nice, though, to hear you speak as passionately about my works like I did once.”

📖 “Being stagnant is useless. It’s also definitely the way to get yourself killed out in the field.” Simon wishes he could kick himself in the face for his words. “Sorry, you can take the man out of the army, but not vice versa.”

📖 “That explains a lot, you being an army man.” You take a sip of tea and nibble on the scone. “Retired or on leave?”

📖 “On leave.”

📖 “Know when you’re deployed again?”

📖 “Not any time soon. Unless Price cooks something up again. No, I’ll be here for a while.” Mumbling under his breath, the words too low for you to make out, he adds, “Plenty time for me to help you.”

📖 “Pardon?”

📖 “Nothing. But,” he clears his throat, “if you don’t mind, would you sign one of my copies?”

📖 “Sure. You have it with you?”

📖 “No, so, uhm, could we meet here tomorrow for that?”

📖 “Are you asking to see me again?”

📖 “If we could have tea again, that’d be nice too.”

📖 “Maybe grab a bite in town instead?”

📖 He perks up. “That’s a yes?”

📖 “It’s bad protocol to go out with a fan, but,” your smile makes him melt, “how can I say no to an interesting man like you, Ghost?”

📖 You pop the last bit of the scone into your mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet here?” He nods. “Thank you for the tea.”

📖 “Anytime.”

📖 Ngl, silly as it is considering you just met, he’s kinda disappointed you don’t give him a kiss on the cheek before you leave.

📖 Though he finds enough satisfaction in the fact you ate the piece of the scone he cut for you.

📖 Enough to carry him through the day.

📖 Afterwards, the two of you stay in regular contact. It’s not always about business and even if it is, the conversation always diverges. To what you’re reading, simple recipes for Simon to try and make (he’s a self-confessed terrible cook), easy stretching exercises for you to do in between writing sprints (he hasn’t had the courage yet to ask you to accompany him to the gym), or possible outings.

📖 Yes, outings.

📖 Because Simon loves driving around the country on his bike with you.

📖 What he’d love even more, though, is not having to book rooms or accommodations with two single beds rather than one king or queen size bed whenever you’re off on a multi-day trip.

📖 Occasionally you do buddy reads. You were the first to propose it and have since expanded your literary horizons together. If only because Simon makes a lot of notes. Honestly, it’s surprising he doesn’t have a literary degree what with how passionate he is about reading.

📖 One day, a few days before he’s off to the gods know where, your ghost reader gives you a book with a copy of his dog tag. Until then, you’ve only known him as Ghost.

📖 But now you finally know his name.

📖 Simon Riley.

📖 “What’s this?” You look from the necklace to him, uncomprehending why he’d gift you his dog tag.

📖 He keeps his eyes trained on you, taking you in as best he can lest this will be the last time he’ll see you. After all, there always remains the chance he won’t return. “In case I don’t come back. I don’t care if they’ll be unable to identify me. I’m a ghost, un fantasma according to a buddy in Mexico. But I want you to have something to remember me by.”

📖 “You’re very real to me.” His heart cracks at your outburst. “How can you say that? You’re a person, Simon!”

📖 There’s no hesitation in the way he cups your cheeks and presses his lips against yours. You melt into his touch, the feel of his hands on your skin, feeling the smirk pressed against your lips when you clutch his shirt.

📖 “Your person, eh?” he asks when he breaks away, breathless and lightly panting. However, he has to stop himself here. Unlike in the field, there’s no time limit with you.

📖 Because despite the novel, he’s come to understand you’re in more than a business relationship.

📖 A relationship which takes time, shouldn’t be rushed.

📖 An opportunity for you both to show yourselves.

📖 For him to learn patience and self-restraint.

📖 For you to learn how to trust and rely on someone.

📖 And grow together.

📖 “Yes, so don’t you bloody dare claim otherwise ever again.” The way you poke his chest, full of conviction, melts his cold heart.

📖 “I’ll try to be a person around you, sweetheart.”

📖 If only because you care.

📖 And he can’t live without your stories.

📖 Especially not when you tell them yourself.

Btw, I might actually write Sugar Hood & Flannel Wolf because I’m going nigh on feral thinking about werewolf!Price. I mean, c’mon, that man screams wolf vibes (aside from the massive daddy… I mean teddy! Teddy vibes).

#Simon ghost Riley #Simon Riley x Reader #Ghost x Reader #CoD x Reader #CoD #Ghost CoD

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sebsbarnes · 3 months

Note

hello! this request may seem a bit strange but I'd like to request a one-shot about tangerine getting a call from his girlfriend to pick her up because some strangers followed her after getting off the station. This unfortunately happened to me and I'm still shocked, I got off 3 stations before mine, I went into a convenience store and they still managed to follow me... I called my half-brother to pick me up but he didn't want to 😃 and he still blamed me for studying at night. sorry for my terrible english, i'm desperate for comfort 🥺 thank you! i love your blog ❤️

hii! thank you for loving my blog and thank you for sending in a request :) i am going to do it in bullet points i hope that is okay, and i wanted to say i am so sorry this happened to you, i've been in this situation numerous times and it truly is scary and completely unjust to be placed in a position where you feel nervous, alone, and in danger because someone is harassing and stalking you. we shouldn't have to but carrying pepper spray or an alarm is always beneficial or even talking to shop owners could help. i hope you are feeling better from this experience and you can always chat to me if you need to :)

tangerine intervenes a stalker headcanon

warnings: talks of stalking, nothing descriptive

masterlist

you're out on the town doing some shopping that you had been avoiding and you had already been trying to muster through the long day of shopping

what didn't help was when you realized you started seeing two familiar faces at each stop

you had gotten off at a stop so you could go into a soap shop a block from the station

that's when you first noticed the two men

but you didn't think much about it then...it was a saturday afternoon and this was a popular shop and the station you had just left from was the closest

you picked up some soaps you needed for the apartment, thanking the cashier and headed for the door when a man darted in front of you and grabbed the door for you

"oh! thank you!" you smiled at him before turning back to the station

you got back on the train and soon noticed the man that grabbed the door for you and his friend, both of whom were staring intensely at you from across the car, you shot them a forced smile and turned your back, ready to get off again

there was a clothing store nearby that tangerine loved and you wanted to pop in and see if there was something you could buy him

you went up and down the aisle running your hands over the fabric when you felt eyes on you... familiar eyes

through the rack, you saw one of the men again

'they just have to be shopping...right?'

with quick feet and a fast beating heart you maneuvered throughout the store to lose them

you looked up at the mirrors lining the ceiling on the side of the store and saw the two men talking with each other and pointing towards where you walked to... but then they left the store.

you clutched your chest, attempting to steady your breath. you refused to leave now so you wasted a good fifteen minutes in the store before buying tangerine a new tie and leaving

you felt good leaving, no eyes on you, no weird feeling in the pit of your stomach until you passed a small alleyway and then heard two sets of feet thumping on the sidewalk behind you

whipping your head to the side you watched the windows fly past you and that's when you noticed it was the two men in the reflection... a decent enough space behind you, but still too close

you felt sick and your hands were clammy and a bit shaky

'did they know tangerine? were they from a mission?' you kept thinking

tangerine... YES! tangerine!

you pulled your phone out and pressed the call button

an empty soda can went flying into your feet from behind and when you looked the two men were smirking, one of them chewing on a piece of gum with his mouth open

you fastened your pace and felt tears line your eyes... you were scared

"hey lov-"

"TAN! oh my god thank god you answered"

"what's wrong?" tangerine asked, he was now standing up hearing the fear in your voice

"there's these men they won't stop following me and-"

"where are you?" he cut you off

you heard his keys jingle in the background when you told him what was nearby and he instructed you to continue walking but be vigilant and that he would be here any second

oh and he is pissed. he is FUMING. his vision has turned white similar to his fingers that were gripping the sterling wheel with such intensity it was shaking

tangerine was a lot of things... and today he turned into a fucking racecar driver

you were fast walking on the sidewalk, the men a far enough distance behind you when you saw tangerine's car flying down the street. once the front of his car past you he jerked the wheel and turned the car onto the sidewalk, you stopped walking and watched him step out of the vehicle

the men had to abruptly stop so they didn't get hit

"what the FUCK?" one of them yelled, throwing his arms up

tangerine shot you a wink before adjusting his brass knuckles and rounding the hood of the car to the men

"oh, i'm sorry mate, did i get in your fuckin' way of followin' that young lady?" tangerine asked

the guys pretended to be clueless which only angered tan more before he started punching them. the guys weakly pleaded for tangerine to stop, but that's not how tangerine works... he stops when he wants to

"maybe you should be productive with your sad lives rather than stalking poor young women you disgusting pieces of shit. how'd you feel if i spent every day following you around, huh? do you think i should do that, mr. miller?" tangerine asked, looking at one of their IDs, "maybe i'll hang onto this, a keepsake, yanno?"

tangerine took the men's IDs, making a mental note that he will pay them a visit at their homes, and leaving them on the ground with blood pouring from their noses and split skin

he tossed their IDs and the brass knuckles into the car and walked over to you

"are you alright?" he asked with worried eyes running his hands over your arms

you nodded your head and leaned forward into his chest, the sound of his heartbeat calming you

"c'mon, let's leave before the police come. we can go home and just lay on the couch today, yeah? i'll pick up some takeout tonight, anything you want love"

tangerine grabbed the shopping bags from your hands and guided you to the car. you rolled down your window as the men stood to their feet

"assholes!"

tangerine let out a small laugh, placing a hand on your knee as you gave them the middle finger

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

Interlude II

[Prev] [Next]

Law only gave you his phone number for study group purposes. He was strictly adamant that he didn’t want you texting him outside of that single reason.

It was also him that broke that rule. After only 5 days.

You woke up at around 9 in the morning on a Saturday, exhausted from a night out with your friends. You lazily rolled over in your bed, squinting your eyes at the sunlight that beamed through the closed blinds of you and Ikkaku’s dorm room. She had stayed at her boyfriend’s, so you had the entire space to yourself for the morning. You reached your hand over to the small table you kept by your bed, grabbing your phone and holding it close to your face. A few texts from your friends containing pictures from the night previous were in your messages, but one stood out to you.

Mean guy from study group Isn’t this the guy that was bothering you?

Mean guy from study group [1 Attachment]

You sat up in your bed, rubbing your eyes as you opened your conversation with Law. You had only texted three times exactly, first to state your name for his contact (if he even bothered to change your contact), followed by a text from him about the time for the next study group meeting, and lastly you saying ‘thanks’.

But now this.

He had attached a hyperlink that opened up to a news headline dated from the day previous.

North Blue University student arrested for cyberstalking and harassment, officials say.

You quickly tapped on the text window to reply to Law, your hands trembling.

Holy shit, yeah thats him alright

The incoming message bubble popped up and disappeared a few times while Law was typing on the other end. You weren’t expecting him to respond at all, but what he did follow up with made your breath catch in your throat.

Mean guy from study group Are you alright?

Were. You. Alright.

Was he asking about your wellbeing?

With your fingers trembling for a completely different reason, you tapped out a response.

Are you worried about me???

You threw your phone down onto your comforter, your hands going to cup your warm cheeks as you watched those three little bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear again, and disappear. He was surely struggling. You snatched your phone back up, intent on typing an apologetic message, thinking that you came across more accusatory than you intended, but his response popped up before you could type anything out.

Mean guy from study group I guess.

Mean guy from study group It’s scary being harassed, so I wanted to make sure you saw the news. Unless you were one of the ones who reported him.

He was worried about you. Law was worried about you.

You felt blood rush to your face. You were for sure overreacting. Some alcohol must still be in your system from how quickly your exhaustion-riddled mind was jumping to conclusions. He was only sending you this info because he was with you when you were confronted, that’s all. It couldn’t be anymore than that.

But a strange part of you, a part of you that you struggled to consider, almost wished it was something more.

You quickly typed out a response.

Thank you, I really appreiate iy

Ot**

It***

Appreciate****

Im sorry ;3;

Now you've done it. He hated spam messages. If this didn’t get your number blocked by him officially, then you’d resign yourself to never showing up to another study meeting. You plopped your phone down and swung your legs over the side of your mattress to hop down and retreat to the bathroom, but your screen lit up one more time.

Mean guy from study group Lol. It’s okay.

Lol.

LOL.

You sprinted to the bathroom, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

What was wrong with you?! He was an asshole. He was a massive douche who barely bothered to look at you, never talked to you outside of the study group (despite both of your schedules eerily aligning on multiple days of the week). He made a point to avoid you when you approached his friends on campus to say hello. He kept his head down, never looking at anyone.

You slapped your hands against your cheeks in the mirror, attempting to snap yourself out of whatever meet-cute daydream your subconscious was trapped in.

He was an asshole you studied with and he helped you out of a predicament once. It was nothing more than that.

—

Law didn’t text you for almost a week after he initially sent you that news article, followed up his message with uncharacteristic concern for your wellbeing, and then an ‘lol’. He was too embarrassed to even open his text messages, the mere glimpse of your contact name making him anxious.

Lunch girl

He couldn’t come up with anything better. You probably named him something stupid on your phone, too. Regardless, he was avoiding you like the plague when he could. Keeping his head down during study group, dodging eye contact like a rogue flyball at a baseball game, and keeping his lips shut when his friends were in conversation with you.

This was getting annoying.

The next Friday evening, a week after your last brief text message conversation, Law had holed himself up in his room for the evening, intent on swallowing himself into a medical documentary series he had started watching a few days earlier. All the lights in his single dorm room were off, a small fan was blowing cool air around his room, and his computer was on his bed with the brightness turned all the way up. He had just sat down on his mattress and popped one earbud in when a loud knock pounded on his door.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was one of the residential assistants.

But that knock was too familiar to him. With a deep groan, he slid off of his bed and pulled out his earbud, trudging toward the door with one of his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his yellow hoodie. He pulled the door open, his eyes squinting from the bright light of the hallway.

“The hermit appears,” Shachi chided. “Come on, we’re taking you out.”

“I hope you mean to kill me,” Law muttered back. “Whatever you have planned, I’m not interested.”

“Well, we’re not giving you a choice. Come on,” Penguin replied, grabbing his friend’s arm and yanking him out of his dorm. Shachi closed the door for Law, making sure to slip inside and grab his friend’s key that was hung on the back of the door handle.

“What the fuck?!” Law hollered as he was dragged into the elevator. Penguin punched the button to the ground floor, and the three began their slow descent.

“We’re going to Ikkaku’s, we’re gonna have a movie night,” Shachi piped up with an excited lilt in his voice.

Law swallowed sharply. Ikkaku’s dorm was also your dorm.

“No. Let me go,” he demanded, trying to push himself away from Penguin, who’s hand was still firmly wrapped around Law’s wrist.

Penguin made a tsk sound in his mouth. “No-can-do, buck-a-roo,” he sang. “Besides, it’s getting annoying watching you beat around the bush when it comes to New Girl. Ikkaku told me she’s been getting sad that you’ve been avoiding her.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Law snapped, his voice dripping with venom. “I don’t like her.”

“Bullshit,” Shachi snapped. “You’re smitten for her and you know it.”

Law bit the inside of his lip as the elevator door slid open and his friends dragged him into the lobby of their building, pulling him into the early autumn air.

“Besides, she’s cute. And somehow she’s been able to put up with your dick energy without getting upset about it. Well, until now, obviously,” Penguin added.

“I don’t understand why it’s either of your business,” Law barked, tripping over his feet as he was dragged along.

Your dorm building, as well as Law’s, was part of a quadruple group of five-story buildings appropriately named ‘The Quad.’ Your’s was directly across from Law’s, past a fairly large center green with a few benches and a small stone statue of a pig. No one really knew why the pig was there, and no one really questioned it.

The pig’s marbled eyes reflected Law’s nervous energy in the dark. The raven-haired man gulped as he was dragged through the doors of your building, into the lobby, and subsequently up the elevator.

“Can you let go of my wrist now?” he asked, wiggling his fingers to make sure he still had feeling in them. Penguin’s grip might as well have been a handcuff.

“No, ‘cus you’re just gonna run away,” Penguin responded, squeezing his friend’s wrist to punctuate his point.

“I hate you two,” he groaned.

“Love you too, buddy,” Shachi replied with a shit-eating grin.

The elevator door opened on the third floor and the three men stepped out, trudging down the hallway closer toward you and Ikkaku’s dorm. Your room was located near the end of the hallway. The outside of it was decorated with paper flowers and a whiteboard that had both of your names on it. In the corner, a tiny penis was drawn with the dry erase marker that was kept clipped to the top of the board.

Shachi knocked three times in quick succession. The frantic sound of footsteps bounced from inside of the room. Large brown eyes and frizzy, curly brown hair was behind the door when it swung open.

“You got him!” Ikkaku called, a bright smile on her face.

“We needed to trap him like a stray cat,” Penguin said back, his voice almost prideful, as if kidnapping his friend from a nice, peaceful, solitary movie night was an affable feat.

“Come in, come in, we got some drinks,” she said, opening her door wider and beckoning the three inside. She planted a kiss on Penguin’s cheek when he passed by, making Shachi groan.

Your room was substantially larger than Law’s, on account of there being two of you, and each side was decorated with your respective tastes. Ikkaku’s bed was lifted, with a tidy desk area underneath and plush blankets covering her mattress. Her side of the wall was decorated with flowers and posters from her favorite musicians, and some polaroid photos attached to string lights hanging near the ceiling. Your side was similar, with a large amount of fluffy pillows and blankets, but the poster that was hanging above the head of your bed frame was what caught his eye first.

It was a framed poster of ‘Sora: Warrior of the Sea’. The bottom of it was signed with a few names in metallic alcohol markers. You were sitting on your bed with your legs crossed, holding a pillow to your chest. When Law finally tore his eyes away from the poster, they landed on you staring back at him. You must have known he was ogling your mounted possession, as you simply tossed him a shy, knowing smile.

“So, what are we watching?” Penguin asked, finally releasing Law’s grip to clamor onto Ikkaku’s bed.

Ikkaku grinned. “I found this cool murder mystery documentary. I think it’s based on a true story, or something. Perfect for a Friday night.”

Your shoulders stiffened. “Are you sure…? Ika, you know I don’t like stuff like that…”

Law’s chest clenched at the sound of your unsure voice. He thought about how nervous you became when he first encountered you during lunch that day, how you shied away from the kid confronting you as if you hoped the wall would swallow you whole. You looked so small, then. He remained standing in the center of your room, feeling too awkward to take a seat anywhere. He finally decided to simply sit on the floor against the back wall, facing the small television that was connected to Ikkaku’s laptop.

“You’ll be fine,” Ikkaku chided. “You’re with us, nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

He didn’t miss the way your throat bobbed slightly as you swallowed a thick glob of spit.

With a few taps against the trackpad of Ikkaku’s laptop, the movie started. She turned off her string lights with her phone, plunging the room into darkness, with the only light being from the television screen. Some opening credits flashed on the screen as the documentary started. Some over-dramatic narration about a serial killer who was found guilty for an estimated 20 or so murders of college-aged women.

How topical.

Some comments were passed around between Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku, some dry jokes here and there related to the crimes committed by this degenerate man.

Everything was going smoothly, until the documentary made a bold choice to act out the scene of an assault. Suddenly, you bolted upright from your bed, landing on your feet, bolting to your door in the dark based on muscle memory. Law watched as your figure eclipsed the television screen, the door to your room opening and closing quickly cutting off the light from the hallway.

“What was that about?” Shachi asked, confusion and slight annoyance in his voice.

“She can’t stand stuff like this, I don’t get it. It’s all over dramatic, anyway,” Ikkaku replied.

Law bit the inside of his cheek. His body began moving on its own, pushing him to his feet and out the door, tripping over a pair of shoes in the dark as he fumbled to leave the room. The bright light from the hallway infiltrated his eyes and made them water slightly, but he took long strides down the hallway to the stairwell to ascend to the first floor. He wasn’t telling himself to look for you, but at the same time, that’s exactly what he was doing.

The stairs dumped him outside where a fire escape door was attached to the side of the building. The sun had officially set now, plunging the entire campus into darkness save for the walkway lamps that lit the sidewalk. He frantically looked left, right, then left again, before rounding the back of the building. You must have been somewhere out here. He had a feeling.

To his mild surprise, you were indeed behind the building, sitting on a concrete ledge with your arms around your head. The only light above you was a flood light that barely cast enough of an image over the building’s exterior, but it was enough to make out your posture. You had essentially folded yourself in half, your chest pressed against your knees as your feet dangled a few inches above the ground. Even in the darkness, Law could see you trembling. His heart skipped a beat as he approached you faster than he would have liked. He felt like he was out of his body.

“H-Hey…” he uttered, afraid his words were too quiet.

Your head shot up, your eyes widened in surprise. Tears were streaming down your swollen cheeks, your chin quivering as you held in your hiccups and sobs.

“What do you want,” you uttered, your eyebrows furrowing.

Law couldn’t blame you for your venomous tone, after all the disinterest he had given you over the past week. You probably thought he wanted you dead, if anything.

“I just… wanted to make sure you were okay,” he muttered back, his low voice barely above a whisper.

You wiped your eyes against the sleeve of your own sweatshirt. “Why do you care? Don’t you hate me, or something?”

“I don’t hate you,” he replied. It wasn’t a lie. Maybe when he first met you he wanted it to be, but after getting thrice-a-week doses of your smile when you talked to his friends, he was finding it harder and harder to hate you. If anything, he struggled to admit that he had actually grown quite fond of you. The thought still made a shiver run up his spine. It was so foreign, so unlike him. The kid who had grown to hate the thought of love, having lost everything to its toxic clutches.

You were staring at him with red, puffy eyes. You wanted to ask him why he had been so off putting toward you after your brief text conversation with him the week prior. You wanted to yell at him for being a dickhead toward you, for not having the balls to simply tell you that he didn’t want you around instead of acting like you didn’t exist. But your lips stayed closed, trembling as you held in your tears.

A deep-rooted part of you wanted him to sit next to you.

Law’s feet started moving on their own again, a mere subconscious in a vessel of flesh. He sat on the concrete beside you.

After a few painfully awkward moments, he finally opened his mouth to speak. “I’m kind of a dick.”

You snorted, dry and sarcastic. “I couldn’t tell.”

Law brought one of his knees to his chest, his heel resting against the concrete retaining wall. “I’m not good with words, either.”

This time, you simply stayed silent. The only noises coming from you were weak sniffles as your tears died down, your mind finding peace with his presence. A peace you would have never expected. Through the low light from the flood lamp above your heads, your eyes caught another look at the tattoos on his hands. DEATH.

Neither of you moved when your head knocked against his shoulder, your upper body leaning to the side. You could feel his chest still as he held his breath, eyes surly blown wide with the suddenness of your movement.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you muttered. “I don’t know why I’m leaning on you.”

“Are you some kind of zombie?” he replied, keeping his voice low. A very small smirk creeped onto his lips, but he forced it down as soon as he felt his muscles twitch.

“Probably,” you responded, serious as you could be. “I don’t like assault.”

Law’s mind flashed back to the scene that had made you get up and leave. Not many people did like assault, but he had a keen feeling your words were a bit deeper than that.

Without thinking, he blurted, “What do you like?”

You kept your skull against his bony shoulder. He had a certain scent to him, a boyish musk mixed with the scent of cedar and something citrus-y. It was… comforting. With a small grin, you replied, “Sora.”

Law’s heart skipped a beat.

You finally picked your head up. “I saw you staring at my poster. I got it a few years ago at a con… the voice actors from the anime were in the dealer’s room doing a signing event.”

“Have you read the latest chapters of the comic?” he asked, finally turning his attention toward you. Your eyes were still swollen from crying, but you had a small smile on your face, very similar to the one you gave him during your lunchroom encounter. His chest fluttered again. He was probably dying of acute heart failure. Perhaps an aortic aneurysm.

“I have, I pirate it online,” you replied. “Yo ho ho.”

Your voice was dry, but the sound of your lazy imitation of a pirate laugh made him snort. He couldn’t help it. His body was acting on its own. He shouldn’t be laughing with you, he shouldn’t have let you lean your head on his shoulder. He needed to keep you at arm’s length, or even further away. But something about you kept drawing him in. Something about you, the sound of your voice, the faint smell of lavender on your skin, the way your eyes sparkled on cloudless days, the softness of your lips when they curled into a smile while you laughed.

Fuck.

“Law…?” you questioned, his golden eyes staring off into space.

He snapped back to attention, tearing his eyes away from you and staring at the ground below his feet. “Sorry.”

Your lips fell. “It’s alright.”

A few brief moments of silence passed through you before he suddenly blurted, “I wouldn’t be a good man for you.”

FUCK.

You turned your head to face him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he stated bluntly. “I spoke without thinking.”

You had heard him loud and clear, though. Your heart hammered in your chest, hoping, begging for him to repeat those words. You were shocked with how badly you wanted to prove him wrong.

“I don’t think that’s true,” you whispered. “I think you could be a really good man for me.”

Law sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. He slowly picked his head up, his weary golden eyes meeting your own. You were gazing at him, a mixture of apprehension and understanding painting your features. You seemed just as damaged as he was.

“Do you…” he mumbled, trying to collect his racing thoughts. “Do you want to go back to my place and watch Sora?”

Your lips broke out into a nervous grin. “I’d love to.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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isaaaxqii · 7 months

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i dont know if you take requests but thinking about “wear whatever you want, i can fight anyway” megumi. im going ferallll

fight for you -: ✧ :- - megumi

summary : megumi shows his love by fighting for you.

**: sfw, fluff

note : hii thank you for your request!! i’m actually going through a writer’s block so your request is actually really helpful :)

< 5.46pm >

“y/n.”

megumi tapped on your shoulder as you were walking down the hallways of jujutsu high. the sun was still shining brightly, lifting up the moods of the people in the school. megumi seemed a little nervous, fidgeting with his fingers as he maintained eye contact with you.

“megumi! what’s up?” you replied, smiling widely, “you wanna walk with me as we talk?”

megumi nodded, and the both of you started walking towards the dorms together. megumi seemed a little off today, like he was anxious. you thought he was about to announce something bad to you, as he always had a sense, somewhat like a sixth sense, when bad things were about to come.

“i wanna ask if you would like to eat dinner together. you know, since it’s only close to 6pm.” megumi said shyly, looking down as he walked.

that question puzzled you. so that was what he was concerned about? you couldn’t help but giggle, intertwining your hands with his. you could see him relax under your touch, looking at your face in anticipation that you would say yes.

“megumi, after 1 year of dating, you think i would say no to spending time with you?” you replied, patting his head. with his face red and hand now on your waist, you found him extremely adorable, and almost couldn’t take it.

the both of you made it back to your dorm, and went ahead to change into nicer clothing. megumi had always kept spare clothing in your room incase he came over and wanted a change of clothes, but it was mostly for your use, and he didn’t mind. he found you cute in his clothing anyway, and would love to see more of you wearing his clothes that looked almost like a dress on you.

you had just finished changing, and you went out into the living room of the dorm to see megumi sitting on the couch, on his phone, waiting for you. sensing your presence, he looked over at you to see you wearing a tank top and a skirt. you rarely wore skirts out, but you didn’t want them to grow too small on you so you had decided to wear it. although, you felt like it was a little too exposing.

“you look…good.” megumi muttered, blushing at the sight of you. you threw your arms around his neck at his compliment, kissing his cheek.

“thank you, gumi. let’s get going, yeah?”

you were scrolling on your phone as you waited outside the coffeeshop for megumi to pay for the food after eating. however, just then, you felt a pair of eyes scanning you from head to toe. you looked up and saw a man, most likely your age, giving you strange looks.

“hey, i just wanna say you look good, like really good.” he emphasised on the “good”, “especially the skirt, it shows off your thighs really well.”

you had never been in such a situation before. it wasn’t scary as you could fight him and win being a jujutsu sorcerer, but he was innocent and you didn’t know what to do.

however, megumi saw the scene infront of his eyes, and intervened.

“she looks super pretty doesn’t she? i’ll gladly fight you to have her.”

the man glared at megumi, raising up a hand to slap him. your eyes widened, but before the man could slap megumi, megumi had stopped the hand, gripping it tightly to the point the man felt pain surging through his arm.

“too bad she’s already mine. however, if you still wanna fight, go for it. i’ll win anyway.” megumi warned, now he was glaring at the man. he let go of the hand before the man scoffed and turned away.

“sorry gumi, i knew i should’ve wore something less showy…” you said guilty, but megumi held your hand and kissed the the top of it.

“wear whatever you want. after all, i can fight anyway.”

heyy honestly this looks kinda short but i still hope you liked it 💗💗

#jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi imagine #jujutsu megumi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Treat You 6

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You rub your arm as you stand to the side, waiting as Peter pays at the till for the two bags worth of groceries. The easiness of his transaction, the casualness of his snack spree, needles in your head. You never walked the aisles without a specific number and strict list of necessities. He strolled around, offering to buy you any sweet snack that stuck out to him.

You refused it all. You already feel like too much. The way you tower over him and lope around after him like a strange shadow makes you want to wilt away.

As he gets his receipt you grab the bags from the end of the till. Peter startles you as his hand wraps around yours and you flinch, facing him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t… I was trying to help–”

“I’ll carry them,” he insists, “please, you’re my guest. You don’t have to carry the bags.”

“I don’t mind,” you say but let him take the groceries. You’re embarrassed by your misplaced courtesy.

“I know you don’t mind, but I do,” he says, “Aunt May wouldn’t like me making a pretty girl do all the heavy lifting.”

You dip your chin down, “right.”

“Well, let’s go,” he steps past you, “i hear my Switch calling us.”

You trail after him and wring your hands. You peek over at the tills as you pass. You’ve never been in this place before. It’s too overpriced for your pockets.

“Switch?” You wonder as you follow him through the automatic doors.

“Uh yeah, the system?” He explains, “man, you’re gonna love it. It’s so much fun. We could do some practice rounds before everyone gets there.”

“Sure, I guess,” you agree as you cross the parking lot.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he teases as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Kidding,” he says as he puts the bags in the backseat, “trust, this is gonna be hype.”

🪻

Peter leads you up to a small two-story house. It’s a lot nicer than your father’s apartment. The walls aren’t peeling or stained and the floors are clean. You stop just inside to remove your shoes as he does the same, the bags on the short bench against the wall.

“Peter?” A voice precedes the appearances of an older woman, her dark hair wavy and woven with strands of silver, “you’re back. I didn’t think I’d catch you before Denise got here– oh,” she stops short as she sees you, “who’s this?”

Peter lifts the bags and introduces you. You give a tiny wave as you stay by the door, “this is my Aunt May,” he explains as he sidles past her.

“Oh, honey, please come in,” she beckons you closer, “I’m just on my way out so you won’t need to worry about me.”

“Uh, alright,” you clasp your hand around your elbow as you shuffle forward.

“My, you’re so tall,” she remarks, “like a model.”

“Um,” your cheeks and ears burn, “not really.”

“Can I get you something before I go?”

“May, I got it,” Peter calls from an empty doorway, “stop trying to scare my friends away.”

“I’m not scary,” she giggles, “please make yourself at home.”

She smiles and flits through the door, “Pete, I’m gonna stay at Denise’s so you guy will have the house to yourselves. When I get back, I don’t want a mess.”

You hover just outside but quickly retreat. You wouldn’t want to eavesdrop. As you turn on your heel, you hear her lower her voice to a whisper, you only catch a single word, “cute…”

“May,” Peter groans loudly in response and you make an effort to block out their conversation.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs, too anxious to explore further. You look around at the pictures on the wall; Peter and his aunt on all sorts of adventures, him with some sort of school award, and hand-painted welcome sign just inside the entryway.

“Anywho,” May trills as she appears again, “I’m on my way.” She steps into heeled boots and looks over at you, “it was really nice to meet you, honey.”

“Um, you too,” you murmur.

“Have lots of fun,” she says loud enough for Peter to hear.

“Mayyyyyy,” he drones.

“Fine, fine,” she cringes, “bye.”

She turns, snatching her purse up from the bench and scurries out the door. You stand in the silence left by her departure. You hear Peter in another room moving around. You clasp your hands together and bob on your heels.

“Hey,” he startles you, “come on.”

“Oh,” you turn and follow him as he waves you through the doorway.

You pad through the front room and turn through another door into a kitchen. He has several bowls filled with chips. Your stomach growls at the sight and you press your palm to it, trying to quiet it.

“Hungry?” He chuckles as the rumble fills the lull.

“I’m good,” you insist.

“Sorry about May, she can be so embarrassing.”

“She’s nice,” you say.

“Yeah, she is,” he agrees reluctantly, “she just… likes to make a big deal.”

You nod and weave your fingers together then pull them apart, “can I help with anything?”

“Uh, sure,” he looks around, “we’ll be hanging out in the basement so you could bring some of these down,” he gestures to the chips.

“Sure,” you step closer to the counter.

“I’ll show you where,” he takes two bowls and you do the same, “I forgot to ask, what do you like to drink?”

He turns and leads you into the hallway off the kitchen, down to a door behind the ascending staircase. Beneath, is another set of steps that turn at a ninety degree angle. He lets you go first.

“Water is fine,” you say as you descend.

“Water? I mean… do you like beer or–”

“I don’t drink,” you say a bit too tersely. “Sorry, I… no, I don’t drink.”

“That’s cool,” he replies, “I got koolaid or soda.”

“Thanks, um, I just… I don’t like alcohol.”

“Yeah, fair, my friends are big drinkers, I’m not much into it.”

There’s a folding table set up against the wall. You put the chips there as he does the same, brushing close before he backs up. You look around at the furnished basement; there’s a sectional and two armchairs, gathered around a large screen television and a bunch of accessories. You feel small, a peculiar sensation for you.

“I’ll go grab everything else, why don’t you get settled in?” He suggests, “oh, and you’re welcome to dig into the snacks. You don’t have to wait.”

“Thanks, I’m good,” you smile and turn to pace around, reluctant to do anything more than look. You’d hate to make a mess of it.

“Right,” his voice is flat, almost disappointed, “I’ll be back.”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #drabble #au #series #the club #treat you #spider-man #mcu #marvel #avengers

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keepingitformyself · 1 year

Text

learning to warm cold hands

A/N: i don’t know what this is????? just a bunch of love nonsense because i was in the absolute mood for love (you’ll see). will it make sense? idk. the ending was intentionally made abrupt… hope u like it tho :]

synopsis: two people who love each other belong together. that’s it.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff?

warnings: none i don’t think…

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

—————————————

natasha still doesn’t know how to deal with it; being loved.

but every little obstacle she has ever faced in her life has been that she had to deal with it.

sometimes she’s still a bit astonished at the fact that she has an entire family who has her back, a sister who calls just to annoy her, a best friend who defends her, and you who she comes home to, to kiss and to love endlessly.

natasha thinks that in some sense she had always been in love with you. for the amount of time you’d know each other she thought it was so strange that it took so long for you to be together.

you were always there, in plain sight. then one day, the stars decided to align and you were there and she had finally seen the light.

so yes, natasha decides that you were the best thing she’s ever had to deal with. being in love with you? she will own up to it for as much as she can.

she has accepted the scary fact that she must let herself be known. she shall let you unravel her and climb inside her heart and choose to stay. she will deal with the consequences of it later, but she hopes not.

she carries a polaroid of you in her wallet as a reminder of this. it’s there when she opens it to pay for dinner with you, or groceries, or when she sees a bouquet of lillie’s she thinks you’d appreciate.

and when she comes home to your shared apartment you’re there in the kitchen cooking a meal for her.

‘my grandmas recipe. i know you loved them when she came to visit us.’ you say as you stir a pot on the stove. she lets out a laugh through her nose and comes up behind you for a hug.

‘i made it dairy free for you. i know you’re trying to cut that off a little.’ natasha’s heart swells even bigger.

when the food is ready and the table is set and you’ve put the lillie’s in a vase at the center of the table, you will sit together and eat. natasha will listen to you as you tell her about the dish.

how you cried chopping the onions and had to take a break in between, how much you thought about her liking this meal while you made it, and how you specifically only used red and orange peppers because you remember her telling you that ‘green is boring when it comes to vegetables’ and when you’re done with your rambling you’ll reach over the table and kiss her.

she’ll tell you she loves you and you tell her she has onion breath and you’ll both laugh and god being in love is such a beautiful thing.

but everyone has their bad days.

you usually enjoy the rainy weather but it’s that time of the month and it’s effecting your mood swings greatly. natasha offers to go out and buy your favorite snacks and a deli sandwich from the bodega two blocks down.

you decline her offer with a sad smile and hide yourself under the covers of your shared bed. natasha sighs, she knows you better than that. she knows how badly you want all those things but she also knows how much of an inconvenience you feel like when you get like this. she tries to let you know that she’s okay with going out in the rain to make you happier.

you don’t budge, instead you groan into the pillows and hide further into the sheets. ‘i just need to be alone for a while.’ you mutter, a bit annoyed.

with a new determined mindset she decides she’ll give you the space you need. she brushes off all comments you made and grabs her coat before quietly leaving out the front door.

the rain doesn’t bother her one bit. she makes it to the bodega in record timing and orders from the deli. your order leaves her mouth as if she were ordering for herself.

‘can i have teriyaki grilled chicken on a sourdough with three slices of mozzarella and honey mustard, some grilled onions on the side too, can you also toast the bread for about thirty seconds longer? please, thank you.’ she orders for herself and smiles at the man working the grill then sets off on finding your desired snacks.

she’s quick with it, easily acquiring the cucumber lime gatorade you love so much, a payday bar and baked hot cheetos. she pays at the front where her deli order waits and rushes home to you.

she checks her phone on the way only to find it with four missed calls from you. the worst comes to mind and she’s home within two minutes.

she finds you on the couch looking small, her heart drops when she spots the tears that stain your cheeks. ‘i thought you were upset after i told you i wanted space.’ you mumble out. natasha sighs and sets the stuff down. she takes careful steps towards you, afraid you might disappear if she does anything too quickly.

‘no..’ she grasps your cheeks, her thumb brushing along your cheekbones. ‘i just wanted to make you feel better.’ she kisses your forehead. ‘it wasn’t anything to do with me being upset.’

you look down almost in shame. you hate being so sensitive, it makes you worry even more and you feel like an even bigger bother when things like this happen. your mind gets way ahead of your heart and you let things bother you that you know shouldn’t.

natasha notices the wheels turning in your brain. she recognizes the mental battle you’re having with yourself. your shoulders slump a little, she knows you’re tired. you’re biting your lips to keep from saying anything.

‘hey..’ natasha whispers. her heart clenches a little. it’s such a silly thing, all this. the normal you wouldn’t have let anything get this far. she laughs a little at the fact. screw periods.

‘why are you laughing?’ you’re confused and your girlfriend is laughing at you. it makes her laugh a little more and you grow a little impatient.

natasha pulls you in closer. her arms enclose around your waist and her chin rests on your shoulder. ‘i love you, okay?’ she whispers it in your ear.

she hugs you tighter.

‘whatever you’re thinking right now is only half true.’ she tells you. you’re just as confused as ever and you’re about to ask her what she means but then she’s pulling away and grasping your cheeks in her hands.

‘i want to be inconvenienced by you.’ the look in her eyes is as soft as ever. her lips have a slight tremble to them. ‘please bother me, like all the time.’

‘you are the very notion of my existence. i want everything that i do to be for you.’ she says it with that raspy tone in her voice, you know she means everything she’s telling you.

you are putty in her hands at this point, she went out and ordered your favorite comfort meal in the pouring rain…after you told her not to. because she knows you. the intimacy of it all, she knows you and she chooses to stay after the stupid things that come out of being with you.

she notices the slight furrow of your eyebrows, you’re processing what she’s just told you. you never say anything, instead you pull her in and bury your nose into her shoulder. natasha hears your inhale and she holds you even tighter.

she smells like home. like the candle you love to leave on all day, the fabric softener you use to wash her clothes, that perfume you complimented her on your first date.

a silent understanding settles between you both.

you feel the absolute removal of any walls when around each other. you have seen sides of natasha not even her own best friend has seen, or her sister.

she makes the corniest jokes, you always laugh, sometimes snort and that makes you laugh even harder. when you’re having dinner it’s silent. but it’s a good silence. the silence is comfortable and she’s holding your hand while the other is holding her spoon and when either of you talk, it’s listening and you feel like the most heard person in the world.

it all feels so perfectly warm in the bubble you’ve created together. you feel so seperate from the rest of the world in the best ways possible. in the they don’t us like we know us kind of ways.

you pull away to look at her. your heart is cradled in her hands.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel

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