#you know what this is actually in iron man 2 a little bit but they couldnt crank the themes up all the way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saintobio · 7 months

Text

blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure.

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl.

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies.

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy.

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more.

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect.

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated.

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed.

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did.

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?”

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.”

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair.

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?”

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations.

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh.

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo.

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more.

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him.

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity.

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them?

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?”

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.”

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?”

Was it really that much of a shock?

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter.

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?”

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.”

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?”

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly.

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.”

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out.

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.”

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.”

Fuck.

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so.

“Sukuna?”

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—”

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.”

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down.

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed.

This was going to be a big problem

Just what was he thinking?

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble”

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted.

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings.

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story.

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck.

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch.

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over.

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back.

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.”

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.”

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree.

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he?

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.”

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?”

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.”

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft.

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.”

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air.

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you.

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes.

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.”

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself.

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side.

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.”

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words.

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3, just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage.

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that?

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.”

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core.

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.”

This was it.

It was happening.

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.”

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it.

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself.

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt.

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.”

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you.

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that.

You became a little paranoid.

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him.

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business.

And you were somehow right.

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived.

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.”

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed.

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?”

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?”

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.”

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.”

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.”

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you.

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.”

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that.

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.”

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!”

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest.

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along.

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.”

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!”

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point.

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.”

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation.

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.”

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride.

You were just scared of losing him over something like this.

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile.

“I love you, too.”

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along.

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs.

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all.

The mere thought of it scared you.

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna angst #jjk x reader

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saturnicos · 3 months

Note

Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #charlie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader

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sincerlycas · 1 year

Text

What you heard.

inspired a bit by the song “what you heard” by sonder/brent faiyaz.

warning: spanking, rough sex, degrading, fluff, a bit toxic, eren yeager (yes this man is a warning), etc.

wrd count: 2k./ don’t forget to dm me for commissions <3

part 2.

“y/n baby what is your issue?” eren currently had your arm in his clutch stopping you from walking away from him any further. the lines on his forehead, and frown on his face showed he was really not trying to deal with this at the moment. “what’s my issue? really? so you’re going to tell me you walk around them campus halls not knowing what people say about you- about me- actually about you and other people ?” the reason you were mad was due to the fact a little birdie came up to you saying a girl named historia was going around saying eren gave her some, and knowing eren’s past with her, of course you had your doubts but still had a sense of worry.

you being the classy (aka petty) girlfriend you were, went to look for this historia girl for answers to which she gave you a high pitched laugh voicing “oh! I forgot he was dating.. you, it sure didn’t seem like it the way he was fucking me last Saturday .” off the rip you wanted to slap that bitch, but you knew better to make a scene for something that quite possibly might be a lie. “you know historia it’s quite ironic you said that because if I remember clearly eren said and I quote ‘I would never go back to that roast beef pussy looking hoe’ but maybe I didn’t hear right”

you mimicked the high pitched laugh she did earlier right after saying that walking past her with a bumb to the shoulder and a mumble near her ear saying “sour pussy ass hoe”.

but if you already handle the issue why are you still mad? It’s because even though you didn’t want to believe her, the timing made sense. see, last Saturday you weren’t with eren. he said he had to run a errand for the whole day so you were just hanging with your besties. that would be enough time for eren to be with her. still you didn’t want to believe it. so the day after the confrontation you went to campus looking fine as usual with your grey shorts body suits with a boob cut and some cool grey and thick glasses.

till you were stopped multiple times that day from people asking ‘are you okay’ ‘did historia really fuck eren’ ‘you should holla at me since old boy ain’t doing his job’. this what caused your mood to be sour the whole day.

finishing all your classes getting ready to head home you’re met with a smiling, handsome, fine like wine ass man in your face. that man being your boyfriend eren, he has finally showed his face on earth after all these rumors. “hey sweet mama, I was wondering if you could come by my hou-“ cutting him off by walking straight pass him, Ignoring him as if he was a rando. “baby! where you goin’” he jogged up next to you grabbing your arm stopping you near a secluded area. “y/n baby what is your issue?” leading up to the current moment so forth.

“what are you talking about? y/n you’re really going to stress me the fuck out.” he said while letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes. pushing him on his chest making him let go of your arm and pushing you jet black lace off your shoulder. pointing your long acrylic nail at his face you said “bitch don’t play dumb, there’s no way in hell the whole campus knows but you don’t when you’re literally the main topic” your crossed your arms staring at him as if was delusional. “y/n l/n when I say I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about, I mean that now stop fucking around and tell me what you heard.”

rolling your eyes you finally answered what he has been desperately waiting to know “why tf people especially historia, are coming up to me saying you fucked her.” and to that he laughed, he laughed in your face! “you really believe that shit, baby you know good and that girl is crazy.” shaking your head and staring up at him you asked “then where were you on Saturday” “I told you, I went to run errands.” “what kind?” he stared at you as if he was thinking of an excuse.

“you know what, save it tell me when you done with all this bullshit and call me till then dont call my mf phone.” leaving at that and hopping into your Mercedes and reaching your apartment.

laying down on your bed in your baby pink shorts and white cropped tank top you decided you would find answers yourself. you scrolled through your contacts and called connie a mutual friend of yours and erens. “yooooooo” automatically answering the phone with his forehead all up on the screen. “boy backup I got a question.” “what do you neeedddd” dragging his words annoyingly and setting his phone up. “eren said he was with you on Saturday what did y’all do?” lying through your teeth just see if it’ll work. “Oh- uh yeah we were on the game all day.” he nervously smiled and rubbed his neck. staring at him with a mean mug.

“yeah you a damn lie I can fucking tell cuz your nose is red bitch learn how to stop that.” hanging up on him you decided to try again and called jean. “hey y/n what you need” answering after a while and nicely. “I was wondering what you and eren were doing on Saturday he said he was with you.” “ohhh yeah me and him were at the park all day placing basketball.” hanging up on him right after that and sitting up crossing your arms.

automatically you thought he probably did fuck her if not why would they both lie? your train of thought was interrupted with a knock to your door. getting up to go get it you’re brought with presence of eren letting himself into your apartment. “bro ion got time for you right now get out.” automatically dismissing him staying by the door.

“baby just listen, you gotta believe me when I say I didn’t fuck her she’s just lying.” of course you wanted to believe him, but at the same time why should you if he won’t tell you where he was that day. “then where were you on Saturday?” and yet again you are met with hesitation. “see what we’re not finna do is keeping back in forth with this shit, if you cheated just say that you bottom feeding ass nigga instead of making me look stupid in front of everyone”

slapping both your hands on his chest and pushing him away, to which he grabbed you with not much strength needed, and pinned you against the door instead. “y/n don’t fucking play with me, cuz now you got me pissed off. since really wanna know, on Saturday I was being the best boyfriend I am and was getting reservations and decorations and all shits like that ready for your birthday this week which was supposed to be a surprise.”

holding both your arms in his hands and keeping you from moving. and to prove his point even more he pulled out his phone showing him in a grocery store buying birthday decorations saying “my baby birthday in a couple days and you knowwww I have to treat her right and give her everything she deserves all that luxuries and shit, baby if you see this, happy early birthday and I love youu give daddy a kiss when you see this.” ending the video with a wink and putting his phone down.

“yeah you look stupid don’t you, not believing in your man but believing some dumb hoe I told you countless times about.” looking at anything but him trying not to tear up from the embarrassment you felt right now for being angry and lashing at him for no reason when you should have just trusted him.

“o-okay eren I get it I’m sorry, I should have trusted you” looking up at him teary eyed while biting your lip. letting go of your arms and rubbing away the fallen tears from under your eyes and kissing your nose. “it’s okay baby, but you know I’m not gone accept that sorry ass apology so go lay that ass on that bed for me” he stated and simply tapping your ass and looking down at you. shocked by what he said and looking up at him pleadingly to have mercy on you. “eren I said I was sorry just let it go this once.” you knew you were about to get punished the most pleasurable way possible but you were still sore from last time and fat ma needed a break! “y/n don’t make me say it twice.”

“OH.MY.G-G-GODDDD!!” screaming on top of your lungs with every word being punctuated by the harsh backshots eren was giving you. clawing at your sheets using it as a way to get away from those relentless thrusts. “nahhhh bring that pussy rightt back!” eren used his free hand to ball up your tank top in his hand pulling on it towards him to bring you right back onto that dick. “don’t run from it mama, what did you say I was? a bottom feeder?” right after asking that question a harsh slap came down to your ask making you let out another scream.

bringing your right hand behind you to claw and push at his abs. “d-daddy I’m sorryyy~ i promise I’ll never question you again- AH FUCKKK~!! baby pleaseee” begging him to give you a break and making promises he knew you wouldn’t keep, that was just how you were, a back talking ass woman who stood her ground but it always ended up with you here. bringing his hand down between your legs to furiously rub at you clit causing your legs to spasm and your hand to grip his wrist. “youre sorry? you really believed her- you better arch that shit right back up- you believed that bitch and doubted me?

crying hysterically and cumming for the third time, babbling ‘sorries’ and ‘daddy please’s’ to which he ignored. instead he lifted one leg on the bed slamming balls deep into you causing you to let out a silent scream and violently shaking your legs. “now tell me who this dick belong to mama.” flipping you onto your back to see your face while staying inside and keeping his leg up. “I-I-I-it’s m-mineee~” you shakingly breathing heavily trying to stop your cries. “then start fucking act like it’s yours and yours only.” slapping your clit repeatedly then raising his hand to leave another slap but is stopped by your hands covering it and shaking your head repeatedly no crying even louder. eren being the tease that he is starts shaking his head yes at you and forcefully moves your hand away. “don’t try cover and take away while I rightfully own.” “you see this pussy, that clit, this ass, everything on you is mine just as much as mine is yours, so next time you try that shit again you’re gonna get something coming for you.”

rubbing your clit as quick as he can and hitting your g-spot repeatedly you grabbed onto his back leaving down scratch marks every time he hit those bundle of nerves. not a moment later you felt like you needed to pee. “d-daddy stop- I’m gonna make messss~” and already understanding what you meant he started jackhammering into your cunt till he felt you spraying up on his abs, your stomach and legs, and some even reaching his lips to which he greedily licked away. slowing his thrusts down after cumming inside you soon after you and holding you tightly rubbing your legs to soothe you. “you okay mama? I’m sorry I did so much but I had to teach you a lesson” kissing your cheek lovingly and accidentally brushing past your clit with his pelvis causing to squirt yet again! “o-o-o-oh f-f-fuck dadddy it’s hurtssss, it won’t stoppp~” automatically going down eren went to lick up at your pussy catching every bit of your juice he can to relieve your pleasurable pain.

finishing up and running a bath and taking care of you, slipping on a oversized t-shirt on you (his shirt you stole) and a pink thong, slipping your thick black glasses back onto your eyes and laying you next to him kissing on your shoulders. “you feel better baby?” he asked while rubbing your thighs to which you nodded your headed and slept soundly.

eren took that time to grab his phone and post a video of you in your current attire with you legs still slightly shaking and a hand print on your ass captioning “fuck all them rumors I’m reserved for one person and one person only, she know that too.” along side the the song “what you heard- Sonder/Brent faiyaz”

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raisedbythetv89 · 15 days

Text

The writers I think mostly completely by accident with the assistance of James charming his way into becoming a main character created the perfect storm to ensure people who love spike would reach absolute peak levels of being completely obsessively deranged about him forever

Season 2:

He’s a punk rock villain with killer cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and an absolutely DEVILISH smile - who’s an incredibly dedicated and dangerous fighter who specifically seeks out challenging fights he’s not guaranteed to win (brave and reckless - normally traits seen in heroes) hates everyone except his mentally ill physically sick wife (the statistics of men who leave their wives when they get sick in the US is horrifying like nurses literally have to warn married women who get sick it happens so often) who he’s hopelessly devoted to and unbelievably soft with and always listens to her while also exuding a psychotic amount of sex appeal and is just F U N he loves being a vampire and he loves fighting and it makes it so much fun for the audience. While still showing how much he respects and admires his enemy for her skill, strength, resourcefulness, and intelligence - NEVER underestimating her just because she’s a tiny blonde girl - and instead of destroying the world for love he SAVES the world for love - a villain doing good to get the love of his life back who essentially dumped him for her ex????????? D E V O T E D and shockingly extremely trustworthy??? And has amazing chemistry with our heroine and is there for a pivotal moment in her life and is the only one there for her when she has no one else????? *enemies to lovers girlies ENTER THE CHAT*

Season 3:

He shows he fucking MEANS IT when he says Dru is the love of his life when he shows up in Sunnydale because he blames Angel not Buffy or Drusilla but the man actually responsible for all their problems and he is the most pathetic mess we’ve ever SEEN!!!! He’s crying and drunk all the time and he’s so sad he goes to Buffy’s mom TO TALK 💀😭 our pathetic sensitive little self admitted lover boy who KNOWS he’s love’s bitch and he won’t be pretending he’s anything otherwise who shows how clearly he sees and understands other people and the depths of his emotional intelligence so much so Buffy herself admits she can’t fool Spike she can fool her friends BUT NOT SPIKE OR HERSELF EXCUSE ME MA’AM WHAT???????

AND Spike doesn’t just uselessly MOPE forever he gets some perspective and is like I know what I’m gonna do to her back and I’m gonna go do that now! 😁👍🏻 showing he never stays down for long and is always gonna get back up to keep fighting for his love while BOTH he and Buffy still honor the truce even though he’s broken it by coming back??? While Buffy’s all “I violently dislike you” YEAH OK GIRL WHATEVER YOU SAY *enemies to lovers girlies chomping at the bit intensifies*

Season 4:

CLEARLY heartbroken about Drusilla (DEVOTED!!!) but it’s turned into anger and resentment directed at Harmony who how bizarre looks nothing like Drusilla but A LOT like Buffy…… hmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOW INTERESTING *enemies to lovers girlies are vibrating with anticipation that turns into a full blown combustion when something blue happens*

Spike doesn’t pretend to love Harmony in order to get what he wants from her (shown in direct contrast to Parker) he’s ironically very honest despite being a villain - he’s showing he’s STILL loyal to Drusilla in ONLY loving her even after she’s dumped him... again!

We see Spike treat Buffy the EXACT same way he treated Drusilla during something blue reaffirming THIS IS HOW THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HE LOVES YOU. He’s extremely affectionate, helpful, protective, caring - D E V O T E D - and is truly just the most certified lover boy we’ve ever fucking seen

Season 5:

SURPRISE HE’S SECRETLY A LOVESICK MAMA’S BOY POET AT HEART UNDERNEATH THE BAD BOY PERSONA AND A PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER AND NOW BUFFY AND HER FAMILY’S MOST LOYAL DEFENDER AND IS WILLING TO DIE NOT JUST FOR BUFFY BUT FOR ALL THE SUMMERS WOMEN AND HE KNOWS AND SEES BUFFY SO DEEPLY AND INTIMATELY AND CAN HOLD SPACE FOR HER PAIN LIKE NO ON ELSE CAN AND SHOWS THE DEVOTION THAT ONCE BELONGED TO DRUSILLA NOW BELONGS TO BUFFY AND IT IS GOING NOWHERE EVEN WHEN SHE DIES AND WE'VE SEEN IN HIM CRY BEFORE BUT NEVER HAVE WE SEEN HIM BREAK DOWN LIKE HE DOES AT THE SIGHT OF BUFFY'S BODY!!!!!!!!!!!

*all of us screaming, crying, throwing up, climbing the walls and generally just losing our minds*

Season 6:

No soul, his love is so great for Buffy as is his loyalty and devotion to her, he now helps all of his dead love’s friends fight evil and is raising her sister and dreams of saving her every night for 148 nights 🤚🏻😭 don’t even fucking talk to me I can’t take it

Forgive the absolute 180 in tone change here:

Dick game is FIRE - his touch is the only thing that makes Buffy feel alive AND SHE WAS IN HEAVEN BRO SHE KNOWS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN HEAVEN AND SPIKE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING HER GOING like damn girl yes YOU FUCK THAT HOUSE DOWN!!! Also he is now just naked 50% of the time just to drive us all even FURTHER out of our minds and somehow has just gotten even hotter as the seasons have gone on like this is what’s been hiding under the leather jacket all this time! Enjoy!

And THE MOST unintended consequence of jw’s vindictive writing:

SPITE

He clearly didn’t want us to love Spike and tried to manipulate us into hating him in such a blatant and clumsy ooc attempt all that did was weed out the weakest amongst the Spuffy/Spike fans until all that remained were us:

The most devoted and stubborn fans who REFUSED to have the thing they loved ruined or taken away from us and were smart enough to see through his bullshit manipulation attempt in the first place.

Genuinely they created the equivalent of supersoilder strength level fans with this absolutely lethal combination of events 💀

AND THEN as if all that wasn't enough he goes and gets his soul on purpose for Buffy so he can be the man she deserves and she can love him without hating herself for loving him despite the immense pain it will cause him which is the most selfless thing we have ever seen anyone do for Buffy only to be topped when he sacrifices himself to destroy the hellmouth, save the world and free her from Sunnydale!!! Plus ya know once he gets the soul even though he did it for her he never tries to use that as leverage to get anything from her like he truly expects nothing from her at all but still wants to help her and James delivers the most devastating performances we've ever fucking seen, finally tells her friends off which has needed to happen for 5 seasons, the "you're the one speech" him being a dad to all the potentials with Buffy giving us supernatural parent core who made it through their rough patch with their first kid in season 6 with Dawn and now are just the beautiful team with their found family and Buffy finally has someone who can truly carry her burdens with her and just all the tenderness and devotion they both deserve after so many years of pain and fighting. Basically giving the audience the message that even if you have a metric ton of pain and trauma there are people out there who see you and understand you and there is a chance for you to heal both together and separately to build your own version of a more normal and stable life. It's a message of such hope and I personally know several people, including myself who watched what Spike and Buffy have and it inspired us to look at the relationships we were in and realize we deserved SO MUCH MORE than what we were getting and in my case it turned out I was being emotionally abused and manipulated that entire time!! Much like Buffy was by both Riley and Angel. So it isn't an exaggeration to say Spuffy saved my life in a lot of ways both in being there for me at such a dark time and helping me draw a map of how to get out. Not to mention loving them in fandom spaces has helped me connect with so many people just like me who share very similar experiences and have helped me feel so much less alone and has helped me heal in so many ways 🖤

Spuffies get "hOw cAn yOu liKe sPiKe aFtEr wHaT hE dId" all the fucking time and truly the better question is how can you NOT like Spike???? HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD RELATIONSHIPS NEED TO WORK?? BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE SPUFFY HAS THEM ALL!

It's jw writing so NOTHING will escape his toxic bullshit but Spike - because he was hated by jw for so long - so much of the time when he tried to make Spike less popular he just kept making him better and more complex and more and more targeted to the female gaze which is exactly why he snapped and made the choices he literally forced everyone else to go along with despite their protests with that scene to make it the most traumatizing scene in all of Buffy history not just for the audience but for the actors as well because yes it is incredibly horrific and upsetting to watch (which is why I skip it on rewatches) but I still am able to see if for what it is which is a narcissist lashing out at people he hates because he hasn't been able to control them and too bad for him I refuse to be manipulated by his bullshit so it failed completely and made so many of us that much more stubbornly protective of Spike and his and Buffy's relationship not just from other fans but from the creator himself 🙃🖕🏻like he basically just trauma bonded us to Spike and Buffy which has led to the creation of one of the most devoted, loyal, intelligent fanbases who is absolutely unhinged (affectionate) with their love of this character and his relationship which is why we are all still creating and writing about this character 25 year later and show absolutely zero signs of slowing down or stopping 💀

#spuffy #spike btvs #meta #btvs meta #spike and buffy meta #spike btvs meta #spuffy meta #also every spuffy I know shares so much life experiences and personality traits with buffy herself like we are often making choices #and judgements about the narrative from the perspective of buffy herself & we’re all picking spike #so many people who pick other love interests truly so often rarely see buffy for who she is either #if you don’t get spuffy you don’t truly understand buffy herself

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missmugiwara · 6 months

Text

Got It Bad ♡ Part 3

summary: fem!reader x Luffy // please read parts 1 and 2 first // Luffy wants more. Will you give him more? warning: 18+, NSFW, lil fluffy, lil smutty, suggestive nature Note: I needed something a bit sweeter this time (so not as smutty) and I needed the closure between reader and Luffy! So ends the GIB mini series! Thank you all so much for your love!

♡ You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here! ♡

Letting out a content sigh, you tapped your finger repeatedly against the cup of warm tea caressed within your hands. You stared at the window while leaning against the wall, smiling lightly as you glanced at the moon and stars.

Things between you and Luffy had really started to ramp up ever since the great hosing. You had noticed that some more of these sexy little instances began to appear. There was a time you had accidentally called Luffy baby one day. A mere slip of the tongue. It caused you to be utterly mortified. Luffy laughed wildly at this nickname - brushing it off and saying it was more than okay. Saying you could call him that if you liked.

Because maybe he liked it too.

There were times during dinner where Luffy would lick his thumb and wipe it against your cheek if there were crumbs, promptly returning his thumb to his mouth to clean up while your crewmates all stared in shock. There where times during storms and the Sunny rocked hard against the sea. Luffy would somehow magically appear at your side, holding you intimately from falling. There were times where he popped up behind you if you were reading a book, resting his chin on your shoulder - inquiring as to what you were reading as he stared down at the mixture of words in your hands. There were even times where Luffy would do you favors, like get something in town from the store, and you would give him a peck on the cheek as a reward.

He really liked those the best.

Just like Luffy, you too could be simple. These little, precious things were enough to keep you going. He made you so damn happy, and it was ironic he didn't even know it. All of it was enough to quicken your heartbeat, set butterflies in flight deep in your stomach, and set fire to the areas of skin his hands laid upon. You wondered, in this innocence, if some of these things that only you two shared were innocent at all or something more.

You were happy to take things slow. Since Luffy was usually impatient, you actually appreciated how this… whatever-it-was-called was turning out. Just enjoying this newfound flirting game. Surprisingly, he was such a natural at it, and it warmed you up even more knowing it was in such a unique, Luffy-esque way. How badly you wanted to taste his lips, but alas - you didn't even tell him you loved him first. So what in the world were you waiting for? Wasn't this all enough to give you the strength to do so?

Being the lookout for the night, it seemed this would be the perfect time to think about how to advance this relationship with Luffy. Technically, nothing was ever made official, so were you two even an item? Knowing Luffy, either he didn't need the label to know - or you were both really bad at this sort of thing. As if on cue, said captain had snuck his way up to join you in the crows nest.

"Move over!" he commanded, but not in a bossy way, as he adorned a wide smile.

You blinked and stared at him in surprise. Heat rose to your cheeks before you grinned. You were wrapped in a blanket, and you outstretched your arm to allow Luffy to tumble in. Oh, snuggling was the best especially from such a sweet man like Luffy who used touch as his love language often. He leaned his head against yours, allowing the straw hat on his head to slightly shift crookedly when your head pressed against his. You two sat in silence for a long time - so long that it was actually concerning because Luffy was always so loud and energetic.

You took a sip of tea, then nuzzled your face into Luffy's neck. He let out a small giggle when you blew out a hot breath against his soft skin, causing him to snuggle closer. It seemed it was the perfect momentum to ease the silence because Luffy then started talking.

"I've been thinking a lot lately."

Most people would think Luffy didn't have thoughts, but you knew him well. On these rare occassions, it was usually for something important.

Another sip of tea, "Mm. About what, captain?"

"About you and me."

The cup of tea left your lips and hit the ground. You took a second to cough and clear your throat. Luffy instantly moved and leaned closed to you, a look of worry on his face as you choked. An inner giddiness swelled up in the pit of your stomach at his straightforward and unanticipated murmur, and you waved him off as your coughing subsided.

"O-Oh, yeah? Anything good?"

Oh, that was stupid. What the hell kind of answer was that? So much for being smooth.

Luffy turned to you and his voice lowered for a second, "Lots of good."

Lots of good, huh? You could easily admit lots of good stuff ran through your head too. Lots of vivid daydreams about the captain involving lots of kissing, lots of touching, lots of heated moments. It was obvious that you were both in a state of fluster. Your face went hot. Luffy was blushing brightly and maintaining probably the most perfect eye contact in the entire world. Despite his blush, he would never be embarrassed by such a thing. Your eyes darted down to his lips.

Luffy went on, "I think about you and me doing all sorts of things. Things that would be fun."

The room was really starting to get hot as Luffy turned to you, and his breath fanned over your face. He was so close, and yet you never grasped that until now. You didn't even realize your arms were wrapped around his left arm as your head leaned on his shoulder in this blissful moment. When did you move to touch him? It was so natural now that you didn't pay attention anymore. The way you were positioned, with him looking down at you and you up at him, just close enough to feel each other's breaths on your faces - you swore the captain could kiss you right then and there. It was as if your heartbeat was just saying kiss him, kiss him, kiss him with each pulse.

"Tell me about them." you whispered.

You wanted to savor this moment so badly. You reached a finger to trace lightly over the scar on his chest. It sent a shiver through the rubber pirate when he slapped his hand over yours before guiding it up to cup his face. With his other free hand, he slapped it against the wall next to you and moved his face a bit closer to yours. He stared at your lips, slightly apart. You froze at the contact - although he moved intimately like this before, it still made you forget how to act.

It was hard focusing on what Luffy said at times. How amazing it was to love someone and want to give them your attention. Yet they reduced your attention span all at once just because you were distracted simply by looking at them. Like magic. To want to hear his voice, but just stare at lips. Watch them move. Watch them and wonder when could you reach out to touch them.

You caressed the side of Luffy's face and leaned in for a second. You gave his cheek a quick kiss. Neither of you thought it strange - even though you never confirmed a relationship, never kissed on the mouth, or anything. But to hell with stupid norms. You and Luffy could do whatever you pleased whenever you pleased. That was rule number one, and you both knew it. Luffy loved receiving kisses, and recently especially on the neck. It was ticklish, and it was playful just like him. So you planted a kiss to his neck next. After all, he was the one who started that during the great caking.

"Because I-"

He started laughing softly when you kissed him again.

"Could-"

Another kiss.

"Think of a million ways I could have fun with you!"

You leaned in for a final kiss on the neck, but as usual Luffy was in control. He playfully grabbed your jaw between his soft yet calloused hand, giving a gentle squeeze as he puffed out your lips.

"You want me to tell you?"

A simple yes was not going to cut it here. You took a pause to really think about your answer. Of course a yes could suffice, but your overall relationship with Luffy went too far back. Memories flooded your brain - from the moment you first met him. When he saved your butt and asked you to join his crew. So many things. So many moments where there were things you wanted to say but did not.

"Yeshh." you mumbled as your jaw was squished, "I alwaysh want you to tell me what'sh on your mind!"

A cheeky grin spread itself across Luffy's lips. "I can't!"

If he wasn't holding your face, you would have been smiling. If you would have been smiling, it would have melted into a frown right then and there. He could be so confusing sometimes. Taking note of this confusion, Luffy released your face.

"Why can't you?"

"Remember when you said you'd do whatever I want?"

Breath hitched in your chest. The expression you gave was enough to answer Luffy's question as he continued on.

"Well, there's something I want first. I want you to tell me what's on your mind. Tell me one of those fun things you think about!"

You realized in telling Luffy to speak his mind, that you had to do the same in return. He deserved it. You swallowed the tightness gathering in your throat and faced your captain with the most determined look he had ever seen in your eyes.

"Hold on! I… need to tell you something first! This is really important!"

Luffy blinked at you, raising his eyebrows in understanding. He could sense this was big - and Luffy knew better than to interrupt when his crewmates wanted to say something with such determination in their eyes. He nodded his head to you to continue.

"I'm in love with you!"

Luffy's mouth opened slightly, but you kept going before he could speak.

"Yes! I love you. Every part of you and your being! I have loved you since the day I first laid eyes on you, and I've always wanted to tell you!"

There was a silence. Luffy stared at you intensely. His face was stoic, but after a minute he then furrowed his brows. There were so many emotions on his face: comprehension, focus, comfort, softness. What could he possibly be thinking in this moment?

Luffy was still staring at you, this time with his mouth open and eyebrows raised high. His face was turning red, no doubt. The most vulnerable thing you could say to him, and it now ending up with a speechless Luffy. It was almost making you nervous because he always had something to say. You so badly wanted to lean in and kiss him, but you were more concerned with hearing what he had to say first as there was no inclination as to how this was going.

Luffy leaned in close to your face, slapping his hands on the ground

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about!"

Huh?

That was definitely not what you were expecting. Well, you weren't really sure what to expect after throwing that at the rubber pirate.

You paused, "Wha… what do you mean?"

"All of these things we've been doing together!" he furrowed his brows at you, "I don't want to do with them with anybody else!" he gripped your arms tightly, accidentally shaking your body back and forth a bit from his raw strength. It seemed he was just as flustered.

"And I want more. More of you. But it's like - like…" Luffy grumbled for a second before moving on, "You know, like when you're eating a really good piece of meat, so you eat it and then the meat is gone! But then you want more! And then Sanji kicks you for it, and-"

"O-okay, okay! Slow down there!"

Luffy's gaze snapped to meet yours, and he stopped. Everything was great up until the meat analogy (which honestly, you weren't sure where he was going with that). His face was red because his brain was probably overheating. It was kind of cute. His grip squeezed at your arms. He was strong, dammit. Hopefully he'd remember to be gentler. You furrowed your brows and licked your lips, trying to comprehend this special brand of Luffy language. But you knew him better than anyone because you were together all the time, and Luffy worked best when he went straight to the point with his emotions.

"I know what you're saying." you shuffled, making the blanket fall from your shoulders, "Because I really want more of you too. I really do! But, um…"

Luffy was nodding his head furiously in agreement.

"Um, well, what I want… is more intimate stuff, you know? Like… more than kissing on the neck. And, um, your body-"

The light bulb went off in Luffy's head. He patted his closed fist into the palm of his other hand, "Oh!"

What was happening? And for goodness sake, he still never really responded to your confession of love. What could be going on in his head right now? "Because that's what couples do when they're in love! And we're in love!"

You froze. Although unconventional, he basically just affirmed your affection towards him. And reciprocated them. He considered you a couple. He said he's in love. So he heard you. So he processed you. Still uncoventional, but it was so perfect in every way and in the most Luffy of ways too.

"Yes… yes! We are in love!"

You let out a scream of excitement, jumping up from the spot where you sat. You could hear Luffy laughing, him shushing you as the rest of the crew was asleep. You held your fists high into the air, grinning wildly. You felt your heart quicken from the adrenaline rush and a fuzzy feeling deep in your stomach. But you were quickly brought out of your high when the captain grabbed the hem of your shorts. Catching you off guard, you looked down at him.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

There was a slight pause. Did he really ask because he didn't know what the next step was? Or did he ask it to goad you into kissing him? You weren't sure if it was genuine curiosity or lack of relationship experience, but it didn't matter here. Only Luffy mattered.

"Anything we want." you whispered, to which Luffy smiled.

Luffy looked at your lips, then at your eyes. It was like he knew how badly you wanted to taste him.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

You didn't have time to think because Luffy smashed his lips to yours after grabbing the back of your head. Yup, should have known better - he was impatient, and he was instinctual. He was all bark and bite. The kiss caught you off guard and wasn't as rough as you had expected. It was simple, and because of that it was just perfect. That first kiss that's just a little shy but felt so damn good. Just taking the time to process how Luffy's lips felt - soft, rubbery - and how he tasted - like salted meat - washed a warmth over you that you never knew existed.

A dizziness took over your brain. Luffy was the captain, and also just based on his personality, you instantly knew in that kiss that he would be the one leading here. Your guess was correct as you could feel his mouth move against yours. You must have gasped by surprise as you were not expecting this side of the captain (then again, you two did many things together before). That noise you made caused him to give you a playful growl as he slammed you up against the wall. Fire spread throughout your body starting from your cheeks and shooting all the way down to your toes. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until just like the tease that he was - he pulled away.

Luffy and you stared at each other, breathless. You had never seen him blush so much before. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came. Luffy took one good look at your face and just gave an innocent laugh. You knew you must have looked like an idiot because he was somehow more composed at the moment. But your captain was such a tease to you. He leaned in close.

"This is fun!"

He smiled as he reached out to touch your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. Perfection. This gentle move was enough to make your knees buckle. Oh god, his eyes when he looked at you. Oh god, his smile. Oh god, his everything. He was too cute. Too amazing. Too irresistible.

So you grabbed either side of his unbuttoned shirt, and smashed your lips to his. It caught him off guard because you, in fact, knocked him over. Yes, you knocked Luffy to his back - an amazing feat in itself.

You giggled against his mouth, "Sorry!"

But you could feel Luffy grin against your lips in turn as you bombarded him with kisses, this time moving your mouth feverishly against his own between hums of pleasure and sighs of content. You were thinking how much you really liked hearing the smacking, sucking noises when your lips met.

Luffy groaned against your lips as you gripped his shirt harder in your fists, trying to pull him even closer if possible. You straddled his waist between your legs - to which the captain definitely took notice. Not wanting you to have all the fun, Luffy grabbed your waist and pulled it up against his - giving you a bit of friction as his lower, rubber body rubbed against yours. You let out a small moan, and Luffy smirked into your mouth again, letting out a small grunt of his own. You bit his bottom lip as he smirked, running his tongue across your mouth.

You could instantly tell Luffy liked to be the dominant one here, and you were happy to oblige as he flipped you over onto your back with such ease. He was so strong, and it was a turn on for him to just toss you around like nothing. Luffy's hands roamed under your shirt, his mouth running over your neck and anywhere else on your body especially when he pulled your shirt up. Your hands trembled as they grabbed onto his clothed shoulders. When Luffy moved his head back up to lock lidded gazes with you, he grinned. You were about to connect lips in another kiss again, but-

The door flung open to the crow's nest.

And of course, while being in the most compromising of positions, you two see none other than Sanji with Usopp and Zoro.

"What happened!? I thought I heard my… darling… yell…"

Sanji looked at you two on the floor while trailing off.

Luffy on top of you, arms either side of your head, your legs wide open with the captain between them. Shirt rolled up to decently expose the small bites on your chest and torso. You and Luffy a panting mess of disheveled clothes and hair.

A really lonnnnng pause must have passed because after a few seconds, Sanji's cigarette dropped from his mouth as he stared at the scene before him.

NO.

This wasn't happening, was it?

As if on cue, Sanji roared at the top of his lungs, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MY BELOVED!?"

Clearly, Zoro was cackling and eating up this moment of Sanji's heart breaking in two. Usopp sighed as he couldn't believe he let Sanji get him out of bed… for this. As if anyone wanted to see you and the captain making out after days of sexual tension building up.

"Your beloved!?" Luffy screamed, hopping up, "My beloved! I love her!"

Cue Sanji freezing and jaw dropping to the floor. Was Zoro even able to breathe between his bursts of laughter? He was wheezing by now. Usopp stifled a snicker himself.

You couldn't help but jump up off the ground, trying to hush Luffy and Sanji - who were now in a puff of cartoon smoke, arms and legs flailing everywhere. They were seriously trying to hurt each another. Insults and cussing covered up your protests. It was all in vain.

Zoro finally got out of his laughing fit to place a hand on your shoulder, "Finally we can stop watching you two make googly eyes at each other."

You twitched at the way Zoro's hand squeezed you, and a heat ran over your cheeks. Were you that obvious after all this time?

"Let's get a drink to celebrate. Nice work with Luffy there."

You tried your hardest to stop Zoro, saying you needed to stop the fight, but he was already dragging you away. You were left muttering and stuttering about Luffy and how you needed to get him, how your shift wasn't over yet - but he really did not care. Usopp sighed and rubbed the back of his head as he followed you two out, eager to get back to sleep.

Did Zoro really want a drink to celebrate your relationship with Luffy, or did he want to toast to Sanji's misery?

Either way, much like everything else that had happened, this entire night was unexpected.

You grumbled in defeat and crossed your arms. There was no way you were done having your way with Luffy. But on the bright side, knowing him, there would always be more to come.

Because after all, he was such a tease, and he knew what he was doing to you.

#one piece fanfiction #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #op fanfic #one piece x reader #luffy fanfic #mugi writes

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edenalieth · 5 months

Text

Tricked pt.2

Pairing: pixy!hyunjin x afab! reader — read part.1

Genre: faery!au, based on « the cruel prince » universe, smut, slight angst

Warnings: he’s still short tempered his dad is too, unprotected sex (they're fairies, they struggle to have kids and are immortals, you're not), oral m!receiving, fingering f!receiving, orgasm denial, bit rough/jealousy, y'all are a bit tipsy

Summary: At first, he thought he was hallucinating but he could recognize your delicate gestures, the plump of your lips, your hand engulfed by the stranger’s one and the way his free hand was sneakily brushing over your butt. Who was this asshole ? Rage setting his blood on fire, he couldn’t stop staring at you, making him stumble over his partner's feet. He apologized to the lady he was dancing with and headed towards you. Little did he know that you were waiting for this reaction.

Words: 4.7K

A.N: hi, it's cami! im back with the second part of this faery au. it's actually a first for me to write a sequel, i recently read the stolen heir so it helped going back into this universe haha. sorry for the eventual mistakes, i hope you will like it ♡ — 231206

His shirt was barely buttoned up, his hair untied and soaked after swimming with you on the lake and he unconsciously hummed a song on his way back to the manor. He felt delighted by the time you had spent together. Of course, he wasn’t forgiving you for the way you had played with his feelings, the way you made a fool out of him but he would let you go with it, for now. And, after all, it was your secret. Just like the place where you had sealed your passion to. He shivered thinking about how your hands touched him, how your soft lips crashed on his. He let his fingers brush against his lips, his steps guiding him towards the white rocky structure he called his dwelling.

When the heavy wooden door opened at his arrival he heard his name being announced by the guards and some servants rushing towards him.

« My lord, what happened to your clothes ? Please, you should wear some shoes and get dressed properly. » urged an old woman called Mona. She used to be his nanny and was always making sure things were perfect for him. Since he grew up, he was seeing her less and less as she was busy directing other attendants. However, she always showed up during important times. Today was no exception.

Hyunjin raised a brow looking at the fae. He checked his white shirt. There was some green stains here and there because of your little fight. His feet were dirty after walking in the woods. Fine but what now ? Were the guests still here ? Even so, he didn’t care. The high society had seen him in a far worst shape than just being underdressed. And, after all, even a cruel and perverted man like Cardan had been able to access the throne. People would not be shocked for so little.

The woman clapped twice and domestic servants swarmed over him, dusting his shoulders and feet, handing him a clean doublet and boots. He rejected them, annoyed by all this fuss. « Could you at least tell me why I should do this ? I would like to retire to my apartments. » the black haired pixy grumbled, his tone iron cold, looking at them with no mercy. The old fae sighed, not impressed by his temper. « Your father is waiting for you in his office. »

His shoulders got tensed and he clenched his fists, the muscle of his jaw suddenly prominent. He pulled the clothes off the hands of a brownie, while an other one was helping him to put his boots on. Once ready, he headed towards the office.

As usual, his steps were echoing on the empty corridors. In the fading daylight, the last rays of sunshine were illuminating the walls of different shades of blue, making the shadows dance. He stopped at the doorframe, took a deep breath and knocked.

« Come. » his father’s low voice seemed calm, too calm.

Hyunjin entered the room. He bowed and said « Father. Mona told me you wanted to see me. »

The place wasn’t really big and quite off-centered from the crowded rooms of the manor. Mountains of books were surrounding the huge oak desk, skillfully engraved with pixies and ivy. The young man was about to sit on one of the armchair facing it but his father stopped him, raising his hand as a gesture for him to wait. « No need, I won’t be too long. »

Hyunjin had difficulties to stay focused and he was trying with all his might to not let his wings buzz. His father was writing on some papers, not even bothering to look at his son. When he finished, he sealed it with blue wax, stamping the coat of arms of their family using his signet ring. Hyunjin had a similar one on his left index. « Today was your last tantrum. » his parent stated.

The boy scoffed, tapping his feet on the floor. « A tantrum ? Maybe it would not have happened if this incompetent » and he insisted on that word, gritting his teeth « was doing his job properly. He humiliated me in front of the guests. »

His dad stood up, overlooking his son. « No! You did that yourself and a multiple times! » he seethed. Hyunjin could feel his body getting hot from all the rage he was holding back. Controlling his wings was now a wasted effort and it didn’t go unnoticed. The older man looked at him with disdain. « Look at you. You’re dressed like a peasant and can’t even discipline your emotions. You almost hurt a domestic today, you put on a show during our dinner with the duke and your reputation is well known in Insmire. » he paused, analyzing Hyunjin’s reaction to the statement. He continued. « Get ahold of yourself or I will have to interfere myself. » he threatened. The pixy was fulminating. « I dare you to try. » he spit, his body few inches from his father’s. Not getting the time to react, he felt a loud pain on his cheekbone. His mind went blank, something warm dripping along his face.

His dad pulled out a tissue from his pocket and cleaned his ring. « A ball is going to be held in four days. This is your chance to show the true values of the Hwang family. Understood ? » Hyunjin didn’t answer. « I said, understood ? ».

« Yes, father. »

When Hyunjin came back to his room, he had the urge to break everything around him. He checked himself on the full length mirror, his cheek was red, with some hints of purple and dry blood on the cut. Despite his anger, he could tell this argument made him come back to his senses. He deserved to be respected and feared but he also needed to behave a bit more to reach that goal. Not to be the capricious heir and to be able to surpass his dad. First, he would try to control his emotions. Second, he would avoid people making it harder for him to reach his first goal and having a bad influence on him, such as you. He could tell his heart had soften the second he took interest in you. It started when you arrived at the court and exploded after your afternoon together. He would not meet you the next day, breaking his promise. Nor the other. He didn’t need a weakness. He didn’t need to like you.

Servants were helping him to get ready. He was wearing an all white outfit. The tip of his boots was covered of dark silver and Mona attached a brooch made of sapphires as dark as the night sky. His cloak, also white, was covered of tiny diamonds looking like the morning dew. His former nanny handed him a mask made of tulle. It wasn’t totally covering his face, just enough to hide his bruise and eyes. He was playing with the ring on his index, adorned with his coat of arms. It represented several pair of pixy wings, intertwined with ivy forming a H. Hyunjin often played with it to relax or, at least, try to. He perfectly knew that you would be here tonight. It would probably be difficult to ignore you, he was scared of your reaction. However, it was a masked ball and maybe you would not recognize him in the crowd. He hoped so.

Once ready, a knight came to escort him and his family to the castle where the ball was taking place. The great hall was beautifully decorated. Fresh flowers were dripping from the ceiling expertly mixing with the high chandeliers where small fireflies were trapped, diffusing a dim light. The tables were covered with food and drinks going from grilled fish accompanied with a lemony sauce, fae fruits and exotic ones, some mortal dishes and different types of wine.

A small orchestra was playing and a lot of people were dancing dressed with their prettiest gowns or totally naked. Spotting some acquaintances, he followed his family, greetings several people. Trolls, mermaids, elves. He had to go through this if he wanted to get some freedom from his father’s constant monitoring. Which, after what felt like hours, he got. His mother was busy gossiping with court ladies and his father needed to discuss some serious topic with a duke. Hyunjin wasted no time and decided to join some of his friends he had noticed earlier and took a glass of green wine. The alcohol going down his throat burnt him but the taste of it was incredible.

« Look who is joining us! What have you been up to ? You didn’t come to Xylia’s party this week. » immediately questioned a young sidhe named Jisung. Him and Hyunjin used to hate each other until the pixy helped him out of a really bad situation. Said situation implying his friend having an affair with a married woman.

« I’ve been on thin ice with my father’s patience lately… Staying at the manor was my best option. »

Jisung pouted not truly convinced and took a bite on a fae fruit, some of its golden dust slightly covering his mouth. « Better make up for last time then » he mischievously replied with a smirk, pouring another glass of wine to Hyunjin. The latest smiled and let himself go a little while said Xylia, a nymph who had been interested on the black haired man, came up to sit on his lap.

« Hwang Hyunjin is finally honoring us of his presence! » she purred, sliding her arms around his shoulders. « Missed me ? » he arrogantly said. « Of course ». She chuckled, revealing pointy teeth, then proceeded to come closer to sensually bite his neck. Jisung laughed and looked at them avidly. It wasn’t the first time he was seeing them acting like this but it surely aroused him. Hyunjin used to love it, playing with Xylia, flirting with indecency, teasing his friend. He thought that giving in to his old demons would help him get you out of his mind but everything seemed bland. The nymph strong flowery scent was overwhelming, his mouth felt furred because of the wine and the sidhe’s reaction annoyed him.

« Stop… » his voice was barely audible. The girl kept on going, sliding her hands along his torso. « I said stop. » he growled firmly, trapping the nymph’s wrist in his hand. His gaze was icy, giving cold sweat to Xylia. « What’s wrong with you ? » she was visibly offended. The pixy man rolled his eyes « I’m bored staying in your company ». He stood up and went towards the dancing crowd. He heard Jisung trying to convince him to stay and could feel the nymph’s angry eyes boring holes into his back. He didn’t care, now that the alcohol was doing its job he could only think about one thing: finding you.

How came you didn’t cross his path yet ? Yes, all those masks and textile fluttering all around him were making him dizzy and harder for him to notice you. However, it couldn’t be impossible, right ? Unless you weren’t invited… Unthinkable. Your family was freshly part of the high society, they needed to shine among it to get the recognition from their pairs. Hyunjin let himself be drawn into a waltz, changing partners and spiraling according to his thoughts. Until his eyes finally landed on you. At first, he thought he was hallucinating but he could recognize your delicate gestures, the plump of your lips, your hand engulfed by the stranger’s one and the way his free hand was sneakily brushing over your butt. Who was this asshole ?

Rage setting his blood on fire, he couldn’t stop staring at you, making him stumble over his partner's feet. He apologized to the lady he was dancing with and headed towards you. Little did he know that you were waiting for this reaction.

You had noticed him rather quickly. How could you do otherwise, anyway ? He was shining like the purest gem among the nobles and courtiers. The tulle mask was doing nothing, you could tell right away that it was him by the way he elegantly walked, his dark blue wings, his pearl earring he seemed to never take off from his pointy ears. The second you saw him in the crowd, you almost ran to him, desperate to know why he never came back to the lake. However, you needed to find the right time for it because you weren’t going to be nice and you couldn’t tarnish your family's reputation. He seemed like a different person when it was only the both of you. You thought he had a soft spot for you. What an idiot you had been. You felt betrayed. Maybe it was his revenge for the little play you had pulled on him and it felt like getting a taste of your own medicine. Bitter.

He had probably used you and would laugh about it with his friends. This feeling increased the moment you saw that beautiful creature devouring his neck and touching him lustfully. You clenched your fists at the sight of it and regretted not cutting his throat when you had the occasion. In the end, he was like any other fae, directed by his impulses. You went to the closest table and grabbed a drink. You coughed a little because of the high amount of alcohol. And this is how you joined the dancers, well decided not to cry over that mouth-of-nectar. He wanted to play that game ? Oh, you wouldn’t loose and seeing him almost crawling in your direction gave you some smugness.

« Y/N. » he called out, trying to get your attention as you ignored him thoroughly. People were on his way and he started to push them away brutally — getting death glares — as you danced away from him, still in your lure’s arms. Even if his gaze was blurred by the light fabric covering it, you could tell the same anger was burning inside his eyes, the same one you had witnessed when he discovered the trickery you had played on him. Finally reaching the both of you, the pixy stopped, trying to keep his composure. « May I ? » he asked the man, showing his palm. « Can’t you see I’m… » your partner was about to protest until he saw who he was talking to. Hyunjin was giving him a beautiful grin but not a single cell of his body seemed welcoming. « Lord Hwang I… My apologies, the lady is yours. » he sheepishly said. The pixy looked at him leaving and his smile instantly faded once the man was out of sight. You rolled your eyes and tried to escape but he strongly grabbed your waist and pulled you close to him.

« You suddenly remember me, Hwang Hyunjin ? » you scoffed, annoyed to not be able to detach your eyes from his. He intertwined his fingers with yours, making you twirl. You were stunning in that dress. It was visibly made of a pearly shaded silk where actual pearls delicately dangled on your chest and arms, like rain drops. A similar mask was adorning your face. It gave you a strong aura and suited the hint of purple in your eyes. « Why are you doing this to me, half-blood ? » he whispered in your ear. Feeling his breath against your face gave you goosebumps.

« D-doing what ? »

Damn it! You couldn’t help but stuttered and he smirked.

« Playing with my feelings all the time. » he replied. Oh wow! So, it was your fault.

« I’m the one playing ? You seemed to have a good time with that freshwater slut earlier. » you spat, unable to restrain your venom. He recoiled, surprised.

« Are you talking about Xylia ? I actually pushed her away because I wanted her to be you. » he grumbled. You felt his nails digging into the tenderness of your waist, giving you a small ache. « And you think I’m going to believe you after you broke your promise. I bet you told all your friends how you made a fool out of me, letting me think I had won. »

Your words annoyed him and he frowned. This is what you thought and why you were doing all of this, trying to make him jealous and it worked. His wings started to tickle and his mouth was reduced to a thin line.

« You truly think I’m a monster when you’re the one who started all of this. » he stated calmly. Surprised, you looked at him but you couldn’t say he was wrong…

« What do you want from me Y/N ? »

His intense gaze made you look away and you were glad the mask was hiding your cheekbones which were probably red. You weren’t going to say how much his loss hurt you, how addicted you had become after only one day together. You had too much ego for that. Gulping, you came closer to his ear and murmured, « Prove me I’m wrong, prove that you sincerely desire me. »

He put a halt to your dance, weighing the pros and cons of your demand. Accepting would go against his resolutions, yet, it couldn’t let you insult him without giving you a lesson. « Your wish is my command. » he replied with a sly smile.

Cutting through the crowd, he guided you upstairs. You weren’t surprised to see some wasted people laying on the floor or hearing laughs coming from other rooms. What surprised you is how easily he found the entry of a boudoir room. Must not have been his first time coming here which made your body get tensed.

It was small and pretty. The furnitures were scanty. An alcove full of fluffy pillows and beautifully crafted blankets overhung by a large window offering a night view of the garden. A meridian couch and a coffee table, few decorations. You removed your mask, wanting to face him correctly. You looked even more gorgeous and he could feel his body warming up. He carefully locked the door and walked towards you, trapping you against the edge of the alcove and himself. The sudden proximity made your core ache. You wanted to touch him badly but he was the one who had to prove something. After all, he accepted the challenge.

« Well. Tell me Hyunjin, are we going to stay like that or are you actually going to do something ? » you teased. He scoffed, letting his hand run along your thigh and going up your breast to grasp the dangling pearls. He played with it, looking at the light reflecting on it. Your breathe was faint, anticipating. Not bothering to lift his head up, he spoke

« I will make you mine, Y/N. You will be my thing, my doll and you will never dare to flirt with some idiots ever again. » You frowned. His thing ? You would never let that happen.

« You’re all blabbering but you dont act much and, most importantly, you don’t own me. »

What you thought would be a nice time was turning into an upsetting one. This was ridiculous and, despite your aroused state, you needed to leave. Obviously, the young pixy didn’t let you go, pulling hard on the pearls and making the threads holding them break as they fell on the ground.

« Really ? »

You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking because of the tulle and you wanted him to get rid of it. Before you could complain about it, he grabbed your butt and made you sit on the alcove. Adroitly, he left your dress up so that your bottom was fully exposed. « I’m sure of… » you couldn’t finish your sentence, feeling his thin fingers sliding down your folds. You gripped his shoulders and moaned on his neck. He removed his hand, looking at your glimmering arousal and said with a husky voice « Seems like your pussy is telling me otherwise. »

You felt tears forming in your eyes. Why your body had to betray you like this ? You bit your lip, sulking. However, Hyunjin didn’t plan to give you any rest.

« You wanted to know how much I desire you, uh ? » he growled, leaving incandescent kisses on your jaw and neck. You hummed, too concentrated on his touch.

« Speak. » he ordered.

« Yes. »

A smirk appeared on his face as he closed the gap between the two of you. You sighed in relief, finally feeling his lips on yours, it tasted like green wine. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your core meeting the fabric of his pants where you could feel is hard-on. He grabbed the back of your hair, making your head fall backward. He missed your scent, the softness of your skin and he absolutely wanted to ruin you.

You tried to find some friction but he was holding you back strongly. The tip of his nose brushed against the crook of your neck when you felt his warm and wet tongue tracing lines on it. « Hyunjin, please… »

As an answer, he harshly sucked on your skin. The pain made a small cry escape your mouth. Fuck. He was bolder than the first time, getting comfortable around you. You heard a pop when he let your sensitive take some rest.

« Satisfied ? » he asked. Oh, he had to be joking right now.

« Not at all. » you answered, sulking. His laugh revealed his teeth, making him low-key predatory.

« Always greedy. » he sighed. His fingers caressed the pulsing point of your neck, travelling down to the valley of your breast to finally reach where you needed him the most. He cupped your sex, making you mewl. « This belongs to me. »

You wanted to protest but the pressure he was applying on your clit was driving you crazy, his thumb forming small eight figures on it.

« Say it. » You resisted, shutting your eyes and digging your nails into his shoulders. Loosing his patience, he inserted a first digit inside you. You moaned his name loudly and Hyunjin had to take deep breaths not to fuck you raw.

« I-it’s yours. » you panted.

He dipped another finger inside your dripping pussy. « Again. »

« It’s yours, I’m yours. » you chocked when you felt his digits curling.

« See. It wasn’t that difficult to admit it. » he mocked, his lips crashing against yours. You bit on his lower lip, making him grunt, soon met by an iron taste. The black haired man lightly jumped, his wings quivering.

« Behave. » he whispered. « I’m sorry… I got carried away. » you immediately apologized, afraid that he would stop. Unfortunately, what you feared inevitably happened. After few more pumps, he could notice how lightheaded you were, how your walls were getting tighter. However, he didn’t want you to come around his fingers. You whined.

« Keep going, please. I was so close. »

« I know. » he sighed. « But it’s my turn now. » He stepped back a little, putting you back on your feet as he was taking your place and unzipping his pants. He looked sinfully handsome. Totally absorbed by the view, you didn’t notice how he made you kneel down before him. His length was right in front of your eyes, precum glittering on its top. You licked your lips. « Suck on it. »

Another order you gladly complied to. Him towering you like this, in all his glory, was another type of turn on. You delicately seized his dick before giving him some kitten licks. He let out a loud moan, his hands gripping the edge of the alcove, his knuckles turning white.

« Stop playing. » he huffed. Searching for his gaze, you seductively put his member into your mouth, your lips perfectly fitting around it. Damn it. He would never be able to avoid you after seeing you like that. The sensation of your tongue twirling around his shaft, the delicious pressure every time you sucked on him. Gripping your hair he gave you light thrusts, until he couldn't stop his increasing pace, the tip of dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. Tears formed on the corner of your eyes and your jaw started to ache so you had to make him stop. Both out-of-breath, he helped you to stand up, your legs being sore from the kneeling position.

« You did amazing, sugar. But don't you think it would be too bad for me not to come inside you ? » he mused, cupping your chin.

« I want you all. » you whined, already lifting your gown up. It made him chuckle, his eyes turning into crescent moons. Wanting to be more comfortable, he finally removed his cloak and mask. You never thought it would make such a big difference but everything seemed more intense now. You could perfectly admire his features, his dark eyes, the mole under his left one. Something was new, though. You carefully approached your hand from the bruise on his face. You frowned and asked « What happened ? ».

He had totally forgotten about it. He put your hand down and made you turn around. « Nothing much, now bend over. » You started to ask more questions but got easily distracted when he unlaced your dress, letting it slip on your naked body. You felt the palm of his left hand applying pressure on your bare back so that your torso was totally flat against the pillows and blankets of the alcove. He cupped your butt cheeks, slightly spreading them to look at your dripping core. You couldn't see what he was doing, only hearing some wet sounds. Hyunjin pumped himself hastily and, without any warning, penetrated you. You being soaking wet helped him a little but you were so tight that it was difficult for him to put his whole length inside. Gripping your waist firmly, he started with light thrusts, growling with any frictions.

The stretch was a bit painful at first, still, you quickly got accustomed to it, your butt trying to meet his hips and loving how he manhandled you. Seeing you so desperate to feel his dick made him salivate. He could see the side of your face as you bit on your lips, trying to muffle your noisy whimpers. You looked so fucked up and gorgeous at the same time. Inch by inch, he finally buried the totality of his shaft inside you, immediately hitting your sweet spot. « Fuck... Y/N... » one thrust, « I told you... » two... « You are meant to be mine. » His pace was increasing as you nodded, unable to create a proper sentence, your hips continuously hitting against the wooden edge of the alcove. The mixed pain and pleasure made you press your legs together, which didn't go unnoticed. Growling louder, Hyunjin bent over you to get a new angle, his thrusts becoming sloppy and slower. You felt one of his hand sliding down your heat to work on your clit.

« Hyunjin... » you mewl on his touch.

Surrounded by your scent and moans, he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it much longer, going feral as he fed your eager cunt.

« You feel so good. Even better than last time » he praised, probably because this time he was the one dominating. This statement sent electricity down your spine, your walls clenching dangerously.

« Hyunie, I'm really close... » you cried, your voice barely above a whisper. « Hold on for me, half-blood. » the pixy commanded. You simply nodded and grabbed the blankets under you. You couldn't think straight anymore. You were fighting against the threatening wave of pleasure increasing with each powerful thrust, each change of pace. He was doing you good, too good for your own sanity. You could feel his weight on top of you, his arms caging your torso, leaving faint bruises. Wet sounds were echoing in the small room, sounds of your sweaty bodies rubbing against each other, sounds of sinful sex. His breath was becoming hectic and heavier, your walls so warm and narrow that he felt sucked in.

« Fuck ! » shaking over you, he relieved his seeds inside you, coating your core white. The euphoric wave wouldn't stop as he kept feeding his high, throbbing inside you and spiraling into delicious bliss. Unable to hold back anymore, you were on the very edge of your climax when you felt him pulling out. Stunned, you were left clenching around nothing, your core aching.

« W-what ? » you asked, confused. You fell on the floor, too weak to stand up properly. Hyunjin was already dressing himself up, styling his hair and tying his cloak. Once ready, he took his mask and crouched down to meet your eyes. A smirk was adorning his face.

« Consider this a payback for last time. » he said with his husky voice, preparing to get up « Oh! Before I leave, don't forget that I better not catch you in the arms of someone else than me. » he was towering you, looking down on you and your submissive position. He caressed your cheeks as anger was suddenly knocking your brain, your brows furrowed and eyes darkening. Without a word he turned around and left the room. He put his mask back on, satisfied as he heard his steps and your raging scream echoing on the corridor.

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octuscle · 6 months

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Hey Chronivac support, I met up with a friend the other day and I saw his brother for the first time when I picked him up. He’s a really sexy Arab guy. Is there a way I could use Chronivac to make me a really huge Arab stud that his brother would be into and date?

Just use the Chronivac chat function. I'm pretty sure that will end in a date. If you're not too stupid. I'll find out your crush's number somehow and send it to you.

"Sup, bro?" Your hands are getting sweaty. He has actually answered you.

"Everything k w/ u? am i interrupting the wudhu?"

Shit, what does he mean now? But the app answers on its own "Bruh, i pray am and @ noon. Tht must b enuff".

"Dude, thats mor then enuff. I just go 2 the mosque on fridays".

Praying just once a week wouldn't be enough for you. Yes, to be honest, you don't pray twice a day either. But the idea of having his hot ass in front of you on the prayer mat. To start wanking your cut cock.

"Bruh, were r u pumping iron?" Shit again, you know he's super athletic. Unfortunately, you're not really. But again, the app answers for you. And names his gym.

"Rly! bruh, den we must no each other. I pump der 2"

"I dont think so. Im always der b4 sunrise prayers. I wouldve seen u der"

"Machine, bruh. Nah, im der in da evening"

"Den let's make an appointment." Your muscles swell. The morning workout is clearly having an effect on you.

"Bro, I'd love to work out with you in da evening. I just have to make sure it works with barber"

"Im always @ barber in da evening 2. Were do u go?" The app answers again automatically. Again, it's your crush's barber.

"Dude, im der 2. Send pic!" You take a selfie. You try to show off your bold undercut, your massive beard and your plucked eyebrows. And that a little bit of your bare hairy chest is also showing.

"Yo, i no u bruh! ur always @ seifallah's fo' haircuts."

"Correct, bruh. Send pic" As if you needed it. You have lots of pictures of him on your cell phone. But not one like this. His picture goes from the base of his cock to his perfectly styled hair. A picture of a man. But you're hairier. And more muscular.

"Ur mounir! of course i no u. Bruh, lit pic" He switches on Facetime. Bingo!

"Do you like what you see?" you ask. You can see his arm clearly moving up and down. "Turn your phone down" he replies. You show your bulge in close-up. And start kneading it. A wet patch of precum forms. "Send me your address, I can show you da real thing". His contact details arrive in a fraction of a second. Hmmm. Jeans or caftan. Caftan is quicker. You'll be in the car in five minutes. And in half an hour, your friend's brother will be pulling your panties down with his teeth. Have fun, you two!

The picture of you facetiming with Mounir found @fitbearcatcher

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #race change

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rius-cave · 1 month

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I know quite a lot about prison life for someone who's never been to jail.

The best way to gain power in prison is, ironically, through making deals (like demons in hell). If you keep your word enough, you become known as someone reliable and trustworthy to those that used to have power outside (like mafia bosses).

So, in prison, the most powerful people are (a) The Store Man, (b) bookies, (c) anyone who has connections to the outside, or (d) scholars.

Luci could rise to power from being a scholar or an outside connection. Like someone who could help you get a lawyer to re-examine your case or help you study your own case (there is a surprising number of self-made lawyers who get their law education in prison).

MOST likely though, Luci could be a Store Man: someone who runs a small store in his cell and makes deals (like: for the price of three Ramen noodles, I could get you a pack of cigarettes, but you'll owe me four Ramen next time due to interest). They may seem harmless at first, but they know everyone's debts and will make the rest of your sentence hell if you don't pay up. Plus, they are untouchable because they've anchored themselves as a pillar of the community. They don't even have to hire bodyguards, because the whole prison knows that if anything happens to the Store Man, the small pleasures of the outside world (like candy or nerdy socks or even drugs) will be gone forever. And the amount of brains, business know-how, and client history they have are irreplaceable. Once you lose a Store Man, he's gone. I think he would be known throughout the prison as the guy that can get you a cool rubber duck. It's a little taste of home that you can't get anywhere else that just brings a little spark of joy in such a hopeless place, and all the inmates are absolutely feral for them.

I like the idea that Luci gains power in prison from just being a nice, helpful guy. (Apparently, nice guys do very, very well in prison, as long as they treat everyone with a certain level of kindness and respect. Kinda like what Charlie is trying to to accomplish with the Hotel.)

Holy shit. You have no idea how awesome this is, actually! I really wish I knew more about prisons now tbh LMAO but this actually helps a lot!

I definitely agree with your idea about this being the way that Lucifer gained power! So I think that, taking this into consideration, I think there's three main things that made people respect him and fear him

1: like you said, he is actually a pretty nice dude, he's kind and even tends to respect the most vulnerable in prison. I'd like to think that it's actually thanks to him that the rate of assaults in that prison are so somewhat low. He brings a certain order to the place, and is also in control of the whole "inside economy" so to speak.

2: He is rich, so he actually DOES have incredible power outside of prison. Charlie is able to visit him a lot because he has great lawyers. I'd imagine he is also able to hook up some people with lawyers and reduce their sentences a little bit.

3: he is actually REALLY strong, and maybe most of the inmates have never witnessed it with their own two eyes, and not a lot of people really know why everyone fears him, but there are rumors going around that Lucifer is there because he killed 10 people on his own, cold-blooded. This is of course, an exaggeration, he only killed 1 person and it was to protect his daughter, but it the rumor got out of his hands and he doesn't care to correct it. It is especially believable because of that one time Lucifer sent an inmate to the hospital for 6 months for having made a... Let's say, poor in taste comment about Charlie. Nobody saw that guy again.

Lastly, that one DEFINITELY sounds like Angel! We know Angel is hyper sexual, but he IS also part of a mafia family (which is why he's in prison) so he'd definitely have those kinds of tricks up his sleeve!

#this was so awesome thanks for letting me know about this!#hazbin hotel #lucifer #angel #ask #prison au

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madaqueue · 1 month

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Dripping in Gold | Chapter 2

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, smut. fingering (f receiving). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: my gojo brainrot is hitting this man is all i've been able to write about the past two weeks hELP somEBODY HELP MEE

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A week after your first date with Gojo, he randomly calls you while you’re in the middle of making lunch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purrs through the phone.

“Hi Gojo,” you respond flatly.

“Wow, I was hoping for a bit more excitement,” he chuckles, “especially since I have good news - your car is fixed!”

“Oh my god, thank you!” your tone softens as you remember you are actually grateful; he really did come through for you on this.

“Don’t thank me just yet - remember how you offered to repay me?” he asks slyly.

Of course. You knew he was too good to be true - he fixed your car, now you have to sleep with him. For a moment you nearly forgot the transactional nature of your relationship, and even though you had already decided you want to hook up with him, it still stings a bit.

“Well,” he continues in your silence, “in exchange for my generosity, how about you let me take you out for lunch today?”

You chortle in surprise. “Seriously, that’s all you want from me?” you ask incredulously.

“C’mon now, you’ve got to stop thinking so lowly of me, I’m actually quite the gentleman once you get to know me,” he laughs. “Anyways, I’ll meet you at your place in 15 minutes. Wear something cute for me, m’kay?”

He hangs up as you pull your phone away from your face. The smell of something burning hits your nose as you realize the grilled cheese you had been making was slowly frying to a crisp on the stove.

Well, good thing I’m going out for lunch.

Riffling through your closet, you search for something that would meet Gojo’s idea of “cute,” hurling jeans and leggings across your room. The closest thing you find is a plain white dress you got a few years ago that’s slightly stained, but you hope he won’t be able to tell. Again, it’s not like you’re made of cash, especially after you had to use what he sent you from your last date to cover rent and groceries.

Exactly 15 minutes later he pulls up outside in a different car than the one he let you borrow over the past week, this one a flashy red sports car with a logo you don’t recognize. He hops out to open the door for you and you take a seat on the cool leather, the tantalizing scent of his cologne hitting you as he returns to the driver’s side.

He looks over at you through round sunglasses, taking in your outfit. “With all due respect, what the hell are you wearing?” he teases.

“You told me to dress cute, this is the best I’ve got,” you explain, hands moving over your lap to try and cover your dress as embarrassment washes over you.

“No, no, this won’t work,” he tilts his head away from you. “Okay, we’re postponing lunch to go get you some actual clothes.” Before you can protest, he puts the car into drive and speeds out from the parking lot.

While he drives his hand idly finds its way back onto your thigh, a feeling you didn’t realize you had missed so much until you notice pressure building between your legs and nervousness in your stomach. Every so often you steal glances at him, his white hair somehow perfectly ruffled and blue eyes slightly shaded by his sunglasses. The white button-up shirt covering his torso looks freshly ironed yet hastily rolled up above his elbows, his plain black pants perfectly hugging his waist. He really is gorgeous, you think to yourself.

He eventually stops the car outside of a store you’ve never seen before, likely because it’s in a part of the city you could never afford to go to, until now. The exterior is unassuming, a simple brick facade and plainly lettered sign. Gojo gets out of the car first before opening your door, taking your hand in his as he leads you up the stairs and inside. The store itself is well-lit, with a faint scent of rosemary hanging in the air.

An attendant greets you without looking up until she finally glances over at the two of you. “M-Mr. Gojo!” she exclaims, surprise evident on her face. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t know you’d be in today, your tailor isn’t here-”

“No worries,” he cuts her off with a calm smile, “I’m actually not here for me.” He pulls you up next to him, a hand going around your waist as though it was second nature, and you feel the warmth of his body against yours. “She needs something cute.”

The still-flustered attendant nods. “Of course, I’ll take you back to your dressing room and grab a few things for her to try.” She gestures you both to follow as you walk to the back of the store, past racks of clothes that look straight out of a catalogue.

Who the hell is this guy? you think as you walk next to him. You are led to a curtained-off area with a deep purple rug and matching couches that surround a central mirror, additional racks of suits lining the remaining walls.

Glancing around you notice a small nameplate hanging by the entrance. ‘Satoru Gojo’ is embossed against the gold, light reflecting off it slightly.

“Satoru?” you question, reading it aloud.

“Mhm,” he hums as he sits down onto one of the couches, legs sprawling in front of him. “That’s my first name, but nobody really uses it. I mostly just go by Gojo.”

You plop down next to him, enjoying the feel of the velvet texture beneath you. “Well, do you prefer ‘Satoru’ or ‘Gojo’?”

“It depends,” he starts, putting his arm around you and pulling you closer to him. “If it’s a pretty girl like you saying it, I don’t really have a preference.” You blush as his face slowly gets closer to yours. “Although, I think ‘Satoru’ is probably a little easier to scream when I’m-”

His words suddenly cut off as the attendant walks back in, arms full of dresses. You’re grateful for the distraction that allows you to turn away, hoping he didn’t notice how red your face was getting or how fast you started breathing. Something about him makes you so nervous, like a kid with their first crush. You’re better than this, aren’t you?

With a huff, the attendant sets the dresses down in the middle of the room before hanging them up one by one on a nearby empty clothing rack. “I think I got your size right, but do let me know if you need anything tailored and I’d be happy to help. I’ll leave you two to it, let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you!” she waves, stepping out of the room.

Now alone with Gojo, you find yourself tense, heart fluttering in your chest as he traces his fingers along your jawline, landing on your chin to turn you back to face him. His eyes stare into yours as a smirk draws at the corners of his lips.

“So, you wanna give me a little show?” he whispers, so close you can feel his breath against your face. His eyes travel over your shoulder to the clothes rack behind you as he tilts his head, releasing his hold from you and leaning back. “After all, these aren’t going to try themselves on.”

Trying to steady your breathing, you stand up and attempt to ignore how shaky your hands are as they move to feel the clothes hanging up. The textures are almost impossibly soft, with colors from yellows to blues and reds, a rainbow of beauty in front of you. Glancing down at the price tag on one dress, your eyes widen.

“Gojo, these are like $2,000 each, I can’t-” you start, slightly panicked.

“Hush, this is my treat,” he says nonchalantly with a wave of his hand, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the couch. “Besides, getting to see you in these is worth all the money in the world.”

You blush again, a soft, “Okay,” leaving your lips as you pick out a dress from the rack.

Each one you pick up is more beautiful than the last as you work your way through the clothes. Gojo insists on helping you zip every single one up and has you twirl around, a smile permanently plastered on his face. He murmurs some version of “gorgeous,” “beautiful,” or “perfect” when he sees you in each dress, and truthfully, he makes you feel it. You find yourself giggling and practically skipping around the room as you dance around the man who’s making it all possible as he just watches you with joy in his eyes.

Finally, you near the end of the rack as you put on a flowy, off-the-shoulder dress that looks like the color of the sun. It hugs your body perfectly and you can’t help but stand in front of the mirror, spinning back and forth as it flares out around your waist.

All of a sudden, you feel the warmth of Gojo behind you as his hands wrap around your waist, his head settling in on top of your shoulder. He looks at you in the mirror, slowly taking in your beauty.

“This is the one,” he whispers into your ear. “Get all the others, I don’t care, but this is the one you’re leaving here in.” All you can do is grin and nod, your cheeks flushing at his words.

The two of you stand there for a moment, Gojo’s hair softly tickling the side of your face as his hands trace along your hips, moving down to run the hem of the dress through his fingers. He tilts his head down slightly to place his lips against your neck, softly kissing the space above your collarbone.

Instinctively, you lean your head back as your eyes close, taking in the feeling of his body against yours. Your hips press against his, the hands that rest against your thighs pulling you into him further. He bites softly against your skin, eliciting a moan from you as you raise one of your hands up to the back of his head, gently rubbing an undercut you didn’t know he had before you bring your fingers higher into his hair, loosely twirling the white locks through your palm.

One of his hands trails under your dress between your legs. He pauses momentarily, lifting his head away from your neck so his mouth hovers next to your ear. “Tell me what you want, princess,” he hums.

Eyes still closed, warmth begins to build in your stomach at his touch. The only thing you know in this moment is that you want him.

“You,” you whisper, “I want you, Satoru.”

Hearing you voice his name, a soft moan leaves his throat as his lips reattach to your neck, gently sucking your skin just enough to leave a small bruise. His fingers continue their path until they reach your clothed cunt, a breathy chuckle from Satoru telling you that you’ve soaked through your panties. His fingertips ghost over your folds, the gentle sensation making your hips slide forward, desperate for more.

“P-please,” you whine, moving back against his body as you suddenly feel his cock start pressing against your ass through his pants.

He slides your panties to the side and brushes his fingers over your clit, the roughness of his fingertips making you squirm from pleasure. His hips start grinding against yours, craving the friction your body provides.

Moving down slightly, he presses against your entrance before slowly sliding two fingers inside you. Fuck, it’s even better than what you imagined. You tilt your head back further and feel a moan start to leave your throat, when suddenly his lips are on yours. His tongue slides into your open mouth as the pace of his fingers picks up, curling inside you as he finds the spot that makes you shudder against him. You both forego air as you sloppily kiss one another, releasing a need within you that you didn’t know you held.

Satoru continues kneading his fingers inside you until the familiar tension begins to build in your stomach. Pulling away from his lips for a moment, you moan his name. “I-I’m close,” the words catching in your throat, eyes shut tightly from pleasure.

You hear him chuckle behind you. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he purs as his lips return to your neck. You do as he says, focusing your gaze in front of you, and your eyes meet his through the mirror. “I want you to see how pretty you’re about to look when you cum for me.”

At that he thrusts his slender fingers further into you, thumb hastily drawing circles over your clit as you watch yourself get closer to the edge. With one hand in his hair and the other grasping onto his wrist, you try to stabilize yourself as your knees begin to give out. His free arm wraps around your waist to hold you up as you begin to lose yourself, eyes threatening to close as you try to maintain your gaze ahead.

“That’s my girl,” he hums. His words are barely audible over your moans as you feel waves of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound leaving your mouth a broken cry of his name.

His movements finally slow as he pulls his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, never breaking eye contact with you through the mirror as he lifts them to his lips, opening his mouth to lick your sweet essence off them. Pausing for a moment, he admires you - your taste, your delicate hands clutching onto him, your flushed cheeks. He places a kiss on the side of your mouth as you try to ground yourself, knees still shaky underneath you and only able to remain standing thanks to his hold on you.

“So,” he smirks, his eyes lighting up as he looks at your pretty face in the mirror, “where should we get lunch?”

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wonwoonlight · 2 years

Text

my way to you / jeon wonwoo | together

➝ Wonwoo x Reader

➝ just pure, disgusting fluff // chaebol!au // est relationship // v domestic

➝ notes: literally nothing but fluff. talks about kids??? heheh lots of soft kissing towards the end. my byun baekhyun agenda 🤍 not thoroughly proofread hehehhe

➝ word count: 5.7k~

➝ summary: Wonwoo has always imagined a future with you but is in no rush to talk about it. But, well, the universe decides otherwise and who's he to say no?

➝A/N: hi!!!!!!!!! i've missed this couple and by brain went brrrrrr hope you enjoy🤍 also, today is my last day of working in my office and my feelings all over the place so hopefully posting this would help me relax a bit 😭

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“Princess, you ready?” Wonwoo peeks through the door of your closet, looking at you who’s still staring into the mirror as you try to figure out what to wear. The distressed face that greets him is enough answer already; clearly you’re not ready yet. He huffs in amusement as he steps into the closet, his arm circling around your collarbones as he catches your eyes through the mirror. “What are you so nervous for? We're just meeting my cousin."

You look at him unimpressed, making Wonwoo laugh as he presses himself closer to you, his arm pulling you against his front.

"Alright, I know you're a fan of Byun Baekhyun but I promise he's just another hyung."

"Another hyung to you. He's THE Byun Baekhyun for me. How could you never tell me your cousin is dating him?!"

"Mmm, did I tell you they have a kid together already?" He says much too nonchalantly, his laughter echoing through your closet at the way you're gaping in disbelief.

"Jeon Wonwoo!" You turn around and hit him hard, though, really, with how buff he's getting, you're sure it's barely even a hit to him. "How did you forget to mention this kind of thing! You know how much I love that guy!"

He bites his lip to hold back a teasing grin, opting instead to squish your cheeks together and gives you a quick peck on the lips before you complain even further.

"Princess, to be fair, it is his personal life. And Yura is, like, my second cousin so I don't talk to her that much unless we have a big family gathering." He grins sheepishly; he knows you've always liked the singer, but it really goes past his head until recently because: 1. It's been quite some time since you gushed over him. And 2. He’s actually not that amused with you squealing over some man even if it’s a celebrity.

Now, he’s not jealous, but perhaps it doesn’t help that he actually knows Baekhyun so it annoys him more than if it had been some other celebrity. Plus, Baekhyun is your biggest celebrity crush; as much as you would’ve grinned and squealed a little over the other celebrities that you like (like Jung Haein, for example), it doesn’t really bother Wonwoo because that’s about it.

But Baekhyun?

You actually, shamelessly, squeal and grip his arm so tight that it hurts a little everytime Baekhyun performs on TV. Ironically, you’ve never attended his concert because your schedule is always packed everytime he’s holding one; you’ve even considered going abroad when he’s on tour, but it seems that the universe simply isn’t letting you see the singer because something always comes up.

Which is why you’re in your current predicament–because apparently one of his cousins is getting married and they’re throwing a party exclusively for the youngsters in the family. And when you’ve asked Wonwoo about the dress code and if there’s going to be media around, he has let it slip that, as far as he knows, some of his relatives are dating celebrities so you might want to dress a little more because he knows you like dressing up.

“Oh, really?” you had asked mindlessly, not actually curious, though your stance on the thing quickly changed the moment Wonwoo offhandedly mentioned that Yura would probably come with Baekhyun. You even asked for confirmation a hundred times that, yes, it is that Baekhyun.

“What is even the purpose of stressing over it?” He frowns in mock annoyance, squishing your cheeks harder. “He has a girlfriend and you have me.”

You giggle at the possessive tone, and you reach to circle your arms around his neck. Wonwoo has to lean down a little to let you do this because of his height, but what’s a little discomfort if he gets to enjoy your warmth like this?

“Is that jealousy, Mr. Jeon?”

You know it’s not. Wonwoo isn’t that kind of boyfriend and it’s very attractive, to be quite honest, the way he’s very assured with his presence in your life and the relationship between the two of you. So you know this is just him messing around, indulging you in your little game because he knows you like it when he’s acting a little jealous.

You don’t have to know Wonwoo is actually a little jealous, not because he feels threatened but because of how absorbed you get when you watch the singer to the point of ignoring him most of the time. Perhaps annoyance is a little more fitting than jealousy.

“Just wear something and be done already.” He pretends to be annoyed, though he still drops another kiss to your lips before he reminds you that you need to leave in fifteen minutes. He doesn’t give you any room to complain, already walking out of the closet to see if there’s any important call he needs to make before he turns off his work phone for the day.

It’s something that you’ve both promised to each other: to turn off your work phones when you’re out for non business functions or out on a date with each other. Chan and Seungcheol would know to call your private numbers if there’s anything urgent you’d need to attend during those time.

The rule came to be after a fight between you two just last month, one that ended up with you refusing to talk to Wonwoo for a whole night because he kept on glancing at his phone when you were supposed to be having your date after so long. Apparently, he already promised one of his partners that he’d be on standby to discuss something, forgetting that he had promised to go on a date with you that night.

Usually, you wouldn’t have minded, but it had actually been months since you got to go on a proper date with Wonwoo with the two of you being busy. Your dates had been reduced to nights in his penthouse or quick lunches in the middle of the days. Which was why you had been quite giddy that night, because as much as you’re glad that at least you got to be with him all that time, you had missed going out and spending time with Wonwoo outside. Hence the fight and everything that followed after that.

Wonwoo’s about to stand up and remind you again when you finally step into the living room, wrapped beautifully in a summer dress that stops right above your knees. You’ve finally let down whatever that was on your head when he stepped into the closet earlier, and he just can’t help but marvel at how you look despite having seen you dolled up countless times. Your makeup isn’t as bold as it usually is during night parties, and he notices you’ve opted to go for a softer look except for the dark ruby painting your lips.

Gosh. Those lips.

“How do I loo–” you laugh a little when he smothers your mouth with his, amused at how he didn’t even waste a second to stand up and press his lips against yours; he’s always had a thing for this particular shade, and you may or may not put that on for that exact reason. You hum into the kiss, ravel on the soft way his palms are holding your face while yours stay on his shoulders because you really don’t want to mess up his gelled up hair.

“Does that answer you?” He whispers after pulling away, a little out of breath even though the kiss is nowhere near intense.

Pink colors your cheek at the way he’s looking at you, and you instead choose to tease him about the color your lips have transferred unto his. You move away to get some tissue, but he gives you another short kiss because he can’t help himself and he really doesn’t see why he should hold back.

“‘Kay, you dork. You said we need to leave in fifteen minutes.” You pull away to hide the warmth that has made its way to your entire face, though you really don’t know why you’d do that with Wonwoo of all people. He already knows the telltale of your everything.

“Right. Do you think it’s possible to change your lipstick? I don’t want Baekhyun to see you like this.”

He would never get tired of the sound of your laughter.

All things considered, Wonwoo is impressed the only thing you’ve done so far after spotting Byun Baekhyun is grip his arm harder.

He hasn’t even seen the hint of you hiding a grin, and he’s about to tease you about holding yourself back when Yura herself makes her way to you with her boyfriend in tow. At this, he almost winces when your fingers actually dig into his skin.

“Hi Jeon.” She grins at him before greeting you too, and you can’t help but notice how beautiful this relative of Wonwoo is. You’ve only met her twice probably, with this being the third time, but you have nothing but good impressions of the girl because she’s nothing like the snobby part of this family. “A bit late to say this, but, about time you two got together.”

You scrunch your nose at this, a comment that you’d never get used to and have heard one too many times after Jeonghan’s parents’ party–which was already six months ago. And you’re still hearing this comment to this day like you’ve just announced your relationship with the Jeons’ youngest heir last week.

“This is Baekhyun, by the way, you might’ve heard of him,” Yura introduces her boyfriend like he’s not literally one of the best selling singers in the country. But you suppose being around rich businessmen has made Yura aware that a lot of people in this circle aren’t always aware of celebrities.

Wonwoo does the honor of introducing you, and you almost burst into a grin when Baekhyun says he’s seen you in business magazines from time to time, and he’s heard about the foundation you’re currently running; that he admires you for doing it and that he’d be happy if he can take part in it in anyway.

At his words, you finally release your lip from the confinement of your teeth and smile widely; being his fan is one thing, being a part of Daisy Foundation and listening to your idol taking genuine interest in the good cause you’re helping is another. After that, conversation flows easily, because you’re no longer standing there as his fangirl, you’re standing in front of him as one of the founders of Daisy Foundation and you inform him on your upcoming activities that he might be interested in.

Roughly, it’s only been about three months since the foundation was established because preparation takes time and you need to hand over your assignments to your successor in the company. Even so, you and Shua are already flooded with donations because of the announcement that spread through after the party. Plus, it helps that you both are used to this, so you’re really just doing your usual stuff on a bigger scale.

“Look at you, talking confidently with your idol.” Wonwoo whispers once Yura leaves, his breath tickling your ears. You smile abashedly at him, more giddy at the prospect that he’s interested in your foundation. He even leaves you his private number, promises to arrange another schedule to talk about it properly because he really wants to be a part of this good cause.

“I’m just glad he turns out to be an actually kind person,” you say instead, your soft smile and the way you sigh in relief prompts him to smile too. He doesn’t say anything at that, simply kisses your head and steers you to your assigned table because the party is about to officially start.

It’s about an hour later that you spot Baekhyun and Yura again, this time with an adorable little kid that seems to be two or three years old. You send a questioning glance to Wonwoo, one that he answers with a nod because he knows you’re asking if the child in question is their child–one that he mentioned just a few hours ago.

You didn’t get to ask anything more though, because the family has made their way to where you’re both at and you can’t help the soft grin that made its way to your face at the sight of the small child. You’re not the biggest fan of children; you don’t hate them, but you’re really just indifferent. Yes, some of them are cute, but that’s about it.

“This is Sera, our child.” Yura introduces as she carries her daughter and she hides herself in her mom’s neck and, frankly speaking, this is the first time you ever feel like squealing at the sight of a child. “She’s a bit shy, sorry.”

“It’s okay. How old is she?” You smile, trying to get Sera’s attention by tickling her leg.

“Turning three this year. She’s fairly quiet for her age, though.” It’s Baekhyun who answers, and you can almost hear the pout in his voice–perhaps he wishes she was more talkative than she is now.

“Mmm. Lots of the kids that go to our art classes tend to be that way too. We only have three to four kids around her age though, so what do I know?” You shrug with a grin. “Do you like to color, Sera?”

Something that you said grabs her attention, and you hear Yura giggle when Sera whispers something softly as you melt at the interaction. Wonwoo observes the scene in amusement, having never seen you gush over a kid. He listens to the pair ask you about the course kids her age usually take in Shua’s studio, and you happily answer as you flail your hands here and there to explain the program to them.

Sera seems to warm up to you real quick due to this, and Wonwoo really should know better than to let his guard down because his heart almost bursts when he sees Sera extend her arms to you, asking for you to carry her in her silent way. He thought that was it, but something blooms in his chest and he really almost loses it when you grin and take her in your arms, making the girl giggle at the way you’re bouncing her up and down.

Her giggle eventually turns into laughter, her short arms wrapping around you and Wonwoo thinks he can’t take anymore of this when you turn to him with Sera in your arms, looking at him with eyes reflecting all the stars in the sky and grinning bigger than he’s ever seen.

“You like that, baby?” you say in a small voice, making Sera laugh harder at the way you’re tickling her belly.

Wonwoo decides he’s had enough, so he clears his throat and takes Sera from you, carrying her in his arms and lets her smooch his cheek because she’s always liked to do that. It would be much better for his heart to see you play with Sera in his arms than the whole thing he’s witnessed earlier. He’s loved you enough already, there’s really no reason to make his heart swell even more and fill his head with the image of you carrying your own child.

The thought of starting a family with you has always been something that Wonwoo tries not to dwell too much on. It’s much too dangerous. As much as he believes you’re both are it, your relationship is still pretty new and he doesn’t want to entertain those thoughts for now. Plus, he’s never really talked about it with you for the obvious reason of your relationship having only been going on for less than a year, but he knows you’re pretty much indifferent when it comes to them in general.

Huh. Do you want a child?

Woah.

Back pedal, back pedal.

This is not the time to think about that.

“Maybe we should enroll Sera in your class.” He hears his cousin say, zoning back into the conversation at hand. “She seems to like you a lot. It’s not often that she gets comfortable with someone this fast. Do you teach also or…?”

“Well, not always. But I can tell you when I’d be teaching so Sera can take the class when I’m around,” you offer and tell them that you understand why they might be uncomfortable or more worried if she’s handled by the other teachers though you assure them they’re all good.

After talking some more, the little family decides to go around again to the dessert stall; as Sera has actually just arrived with her babysitter, hence why she wasn’t with them earlier.

“You really went from not knowing Baekhyun has a child to getting cozy with said child in one day, huh?” Wonwoo nudges you, a little surprised when you simply hug his arm and bury yourself into his shoulder. It’s not often that you’re shy, at least not in front of him, but with the way you’re biting your smile and hiding in his shoulder, it’s clear that you have something in your mind that you don't intend to share with him just yet.

It’s later that night that he finds out by accident. He’s in the bedroom waiting for you, wondering if you forgot you need to wake up early tomorrow because it’s been an hour since you said you’d just call Chaeyoung real quick before you join him for bed. He meant to go down to remind you it’s almost midnight, but he finds himself hovering by the stairs, heart almost stopping at your giddy tone.

“She’s so cute, Chaeng. You know I’m always a little eh with kids, right? But she’s so cute and she hides her face in my neck and stuff? And she kisses Wonwoo too! Gosh, my heart almost goes out of my chest when he holds her–Mmm. What? Not really, no. I’ve… never talked about it yet with Wonwoo, to be honest?”

A pause, and then.

“Mmm. Yeah. Our children, huh?”

You don’t know how Wonwoo barely sleeps that night with you sleeping soundly in his arms, your words followed by your soft laugh replaying in his mind over and over again.

Our children, huh? Never really thought about it before, but it does have a nice ring to it.

Frankly speaking, Wonwoo has never thought he’d find himself in such a predicament.

You haven’t been replying to his texts all day, but he knows you’re packed today with classes and everything. Seungcheol isn’t replying either, but that assistant of yours might’ve simply run out of batteries because it wouldn’t be the first time.

But when he gets home early for once and hears you before he even sees you, he definitely didn’t expect you to be on the sofa with Sera happily snuggled to your chest.

Nope. He’s definitely not strong enough for this.

“Hi.” You grin, waving Sera’s arm as the little girl babbles his name.

“Not that I’m complaining but… why is she here?” he asks after his heart starts beating again. It’s an exaggeration, but that’s really how it felt like for a second there.

“She’s in class earlier but something came up with her babysitter who usually waits around, and her parents aren’t able to pick her up til dinner so I offered to take care of her?” Your explanation sounds unsure, and Wonwoo presses his lips together at how adorable you look right now with Sera on your lap.

After what he accidentally overheard almost two weeks ago, this really isn’t helping him with his mission to get rid of the thought. He looks down at Sera, safely snuggled into your chest as her short fingers grip the neckline of your shirt. Your arms are wrapped around her, and he can’t help but think how domestic all of this seems to be.

Fuck. How would it feel to come home to you and his child cuddled together like this?

He shakes his head in hope it’ll shake away the thought, and when you ask if he’s okay, he sends you a tight smile and drops a kiss to your cheek, telling you he’s going to wash up and that you should order in for early dinner even if it's barely 6 in the evening. Sera would be famished otherwise and you did mention her parents would only be able to pick her up somewhere after eight, anyway.

He didn't expect you'd let it go that easily. But somehow, that’s enough to satisfy you, and Wonwoo turns to head upstairs, ears red when he hears your pitched up voice talking to Sera, asking if she wants chicken also.

God knows how much he needs fucking shower to cool down before he explodes.

But, apparently, God decides he’s only allowed to cool down for nothing but a short moment because you’re nuzzling into Sera’s cheek when Wonwoo returns to the living room. He’s starting to believe he’ll just die a happy man by the end of the day. He doesn’t even care if he’s exaggerating at this point; he’s seen you with kids before, but he’s never seen you so whipped with one that he doesn’t know how to react.

Is he even being obvious with his staring?

He doesn’t really care either.

“You ordered already?” He asks to get out of his trance, to announce his presence while he’s at it. He needs you to pull away from the child because he’s too young for a heart attack.

“Yeah. But they say it might take longer because they’re busier than usual.” You stand up from your seat and take Sera into your arms, walking to where he’s at for reasons that he doesn’t understand.

Perhaps you want to see his soul leaving him up close with how domestic you’re looking right now. God, you’re not fair at all.

“She’s been calling for her Uncle Wonwoo.” You scrunch your nose and hand her to him. You melt at the gentle way he takes her from you, at the way Sera quickly wraps her arms around his neck and giggles when he asks if she’s been good.

If you’re to be completely honest, the thought of having kids never really occurred to you even though you’re completely enamored by the man beside you. You’ve imagined getting married to him (yes, you already have even though it’s only been months since you realized you’re romantically invested in your best friend), but it has never crossed your mind that you might want to have a child with him for the sole reason of you’ve never really been fixated at the idea of being a mother–a parent with how yours treated you.

Well, until that talk with Chaeyoung, that is.

Seeing Wonwoo like this makes your inside buzz with something that you’re not familiar with. It’s not unpleasant though, and you welcome it with every fiber of your being. It makes you a little flustered, but you don’t really mind because how can you if you get to see Wonwoo smile softly at Sera and poke his nose into her cheek to make the little girl laugh.

It’s almost two hours later that the both of you end up sprawled on the sofa, with Sera on your lap and your head leaning on Wonwoo’s shoulder. The three of you are pressed against each other, Sera is falling asleep with her head against your chest and the two of you whisper to each other as not to wake her–whatever’s playing on the TV long forgotten and its faint sound serving as nothing but background noise.

“I’ve never seen you like a kid this much,” he says as he presses a kiss on your temple. His eyes travel to the fingers gripping the material of your shirt, and then to your palm that’s rubbing her back up and down to lull her to sleep.

“Me neither.” You grin up at him before your palm moves from her back to her hair. “But she is so cute though. Do you think I might be biased because she’s Baekkhyun’s child?”

The look Wonwoo gives you would’ve made you snort loudly if not for the little angel on your lap, so you settle for a soft laugh before you caught your lip between your teeth to stop yourself from laughing louder.

“Kidding,” you add when you don’t feel like laughing anymore, and then presses your cheek to his shoulder to tell him how she’s probably the most peaceful child you’ve ever seen so that probably helps. “She’s so excited in class, Won! But she tries so much not to be too messy even though we said it’s okay?”

Wonwoo stays silent as you continue to talk about the kids in your classroom, another episode from today’s open class, and then Shua who is still overwhelmed about the sudden responsibility. He’s always liked it when you do this, just go on and on about your day and what’s memorable because you want to share it with him. It makes him feel like he’s a part of your day even though he’s not physically there to witness them all the time.

When the intercom finally beeps, it’s almost ninein the evening and Sera is soundly asleep against your chest, her arms limply stay on her sides. Wonwoo goes to the door as you stay there, not wanting to wake the girl up. Yura almost squeals when she sees the position you’re in, and you smile sheepishly at Yura as you tell her that the girl has been asleep for about 30 minutes.

“I’m so sorry it took me long,” she apologizes as she tries to take Sera from you. “Baek is actually outside the country and my dinner appointment was in Incheon. The traffic to get here… God. I’m never attending dinner meetings anymore if it’s not in Seoul.”

You shake your head and tell her it’s okay and you had fun; that you’re glad you’re able to help. Yura thanks you both once again, Sera now curled in her arms, and promises that she’d treat you both for dinner some time for this favor. She doesn’t forget to thank you also about the class, mentions that it’s obvious now Sera is comfortable with you like with no others.

After Yura leaves the penthouse, you finish what’s left over your dinner and clean up before you take turns to shower. You’re sitting against the headboard when Wonwoo steps out of the bathroom, scrolling something in your phone–an action that you immediately stop once you see him already fresh in his pajamas, then pats the space next to you like that’s not where Wonwoo is heading to already.

He immediately dives into your neck, startling you a little, his arms wrap around your waist as he maneuvers the both of you so his head is laying on your chest as he listens to your erratic heartbeat. Gosh, it’s embarrassing how things like this still get a reaction out of you.

“Long day?” you ask as your fingers start to comb his hair. It’s something that comforts him, you found out only recently, and you’ve been doing it since when you feel like he’s extra tired or he’s simply there on your lap. “Sorry I didn’t get to text you the whole day.”

“Not really. Just feel like holding you.”

It’s not funny the way your breath gets caught on your throat at the obvious tone he’s using; like it’s just a well known fact you should already be aware of. Something blooms across your chest, and you’re sure Wonwoo is just being kind by not addressing the way your heartbeat picks up at his words.

“When did you get so cheesy.” You pretend to grumble even if you know Wonwoo knew how much you like it when he says things like that out of nowhere.

He chuckles softly, and then lets go of you to sit properly and pulls you into his lap instead. You don’t complain at the sudden change of position–why would you?–and you settle into the crook of his neck, sighing in satisfaction at how comfortable this feels to you. How natural too, like you’re meant to be with him this way no matter what.

“Can I ask you something?” You think you know what he’s going to say and you’re not sure you’re ready for it yet, but you nod anyway and trace his kind with mindless patterns. “What do you think about kids?”

Despite knowing the answer already, you’re still unsure how to answer him directly, too shy to say anything. You don’t want to make him awkward though, so you hum as if pretending to think even though the words are already on the tip of your tongue.

“Whose?”

Wonwoo blinks, amused at the way you’re baiting him. He’ll take anything though, and he’s just glad you’re not being weird about it.

“Ours.”

He can hear you take a sharp breath at his answer, feel the way your fingers stop moving and the way you press your head deeper into his neck. He’s not in any place to judge though, because he can feel his ears getting hot too at the topic of this conversation. You haven’t even talked about marriage, but you’re already talking about kids though Wonwoo has no one he’d rather talk this with but you.

After all, he doesn’t think he wants to have any kids if it’s not with you.

“I don’t know,” you whisper honestly, and Wonwoo takes your finger in his because you’re fidgeting a little, perhaps nervous from the topic. “I… have never really thought about it until recently but… I’m not against it… I think?”

Wonwoo almost laughs at your unsure tone, finding you adorable for no reason at all. God, he’s even more whipped now that you’re together and it’s not even funny. On the other hand, he feels himself relaxing at your answer; he knows you, and he knows you would’ve said you don’t want kids if you really don’t. So this means that at least you’re considering it–considering having kids with him. It’s not going to happen anytime soon, Wonwoo thinks, but it still makes him happy to know this is how you feel.

“How about you?” you ask back, your voice tiny.

He hums, his fingers that aren’t holding yours find purchase in your hair as he combs through it.

“I don’t mind anything as long as it's with you.” He answers honestly, his tone so genuine that you don’t even have it in you to tease him once again about being cheesy. You even tear up a little, because what did you do to receive a love this big?

You pull away from him to meet his eyes, and he sends you a soft smile that gets you giddy inside that you can’t not return the smile. The two of you spend a few moments just like that, looking at each other with silly smiles on your faces without words. It’s you who break the silence, though your eyes have moved from his eyes, instead focusing on the way your fingers are intertwined together before you say your next words, almost making Wonwoo combust inside.

“I think I don’t mind kids too if it’s with you,” you say shyly, not able to look at Wonwoo in the eyes as you say this. His heart soars beyond limit, but it's not even a second later that it breaks into pieces when you continue your words. “Though… I… I won’t be like my parents, right?”

“Oh, princess,” he whispers sadly, his palm reaching for your cheek to caress your skin. You close your eyes at the feeling, and you lean into his touch because it’s always the source of your comfort. “You won’t, okay? I promise we won’t. You trust me, right, love?”

You open your eyes as you nod, heart melting at his new favorite nickname to call you.

“You know I will call you out if you do something you’re not supposed to and I know you’d do the same for me,” he reminds you, eyes never leaving yours the whole time. “And that’s why we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” You return his smile, though after a few moments it turns into a giggle and Wonwoo asks what prompts your laughter. “Isn’t it funny? We’re already talking about this when we haven't even talked about marriage yet."

Wonwoo grins at this, no longer caring that his heart is beating to a very erratic rhythm because this talk is too good to be true. He didn’t expect to talk about kids and marriage this soon with you. It’s something that he keeps to himself because he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s rushing you. He’s happy with keeping it to himself too, as he himself definitely isn't in any rush, he’s content having you by his side, happy that you’re both happy together. That’s already more than he could’ve asked.

“Yet?” he teases despite everything. “So you do think about getting married to me.”

You roll your eyes even though you can feel your face getting hot at his words, but you don’t deny anything and simply mumbles that he’s annoying. Thankfully, he doesn’t want to torture you any longer, and he chuckles a little more before pulling you back into his lap, sighs blissfully when you bury yourself into his neck and your lips graze the skin there.

It’s not long until you end up kissing each other; but just like your relationship, there’s no rush there–only your lips against his over and over again. The way he holds you is gentle, almost like he’s afraid you’ll break if he holds you a tad bit tighter, and your fingers don’t root themselves in his hair like they usually would–they’re simply planted on his shoulder and the back of his neck, playing with the tip of his hair.

No one fights for dominance, and you hum in pure delight when Wonwoo retorts to giving you short pecks over and over again, eventually making you laugh at the ticklish feeling against your lips. In the end, you pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, and he returns the gesture by wrapping his around your waist, the content sound that leaves his lips as he’s kissing you sends shivers down your spine.

“I love you, alright?” he whispers tenderly, his lips touching yours everytime they move even the slightest way. “Always remember that.”

You nod, pressing your lips together to hold yourself back from crying. And even though you don’t say it back with your words, Wonwoo knows exactly what you mean when your lips find their way back to his.

A/N: aaaaaaaaaah, i've missed them so much!!! idk if you guys still dig them but anyway heh this is for you @justasoftstan and @sunshinein17 🤍 pls do tell me what you think about it! i actually scheduled the post since a few days ago, and the day after i immediately went into a :// state about writing which is very odd. but, frankly, after going into that mode which essentially roots to me doubting my ability to write, i started to even hesitate to post this work. like.. when is a good time? but as always, i hope you enjoy nevertheless

permanent taglist: @kyeomjjigae @stantrash171819 @sebongmochi @luveveryonewoo @thinkinboutwonu @kpopjackie @ursweetener @lavenderautumnx @itsveronicaxxx @shuahoshiscoups @sunshinein17 @leechanniee @twogyuu @hoe4wonwoo @h3h3tm0n @noraehey @seokshook @rubyhoons @02psh

mwty taglist: @dnylwoo @yslshua @najaemin138 @blueixnie @boowanie @pwettytae @aphrodyteeth @jeoonghann @sdoulc @ru-lin @listxn@yngreid @vynnz @lilactangerine @justasoftstan @amymoonl@02psh@lovelywoo@pusangmamon@yoontaedotin @soonchanshua @fanfic24 @nothingbutadeadesceane @nollixtrml @sweetheart-gs@rjsmochii@dowoonwoodealer

#caratwritersclub #ficscafe #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #wonwoo fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenario #svt fic #wonwoo x you #seventeen au #wonwoo au #seventeen fic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #my way to you masterlist

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starzshopoflove · 8 months

Text

Civil Duties (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

needed a title i think

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates, age gap but not to crazy, sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader sorry i'm terrified of men irl, no smut guys simon doesnt fuck on the first date erm,,

You were probably gonna throw up out of pure anxiety texting him, not like you were scared but this wasn't some guy from school or a random guy who hit on you, this man was an actual man, like he's probably had real relationships and has his own health insurance (both false ahem). Of course you eventually bite the bullet and text him, exchanging basic information; your name, how old you were, what your hobbies are.

After 2-3 days of consistent messaging mostly on your end with Simon preferring an actual phone call letting you do most of the talking assuring you he doesnt think your rambling and is in fact listening, he finally asks you out for a proper date because his mother raised a gentleman that doesn't call it grabbing coffee then tells you its a date.

I feel like simon would try and clean up a little bit for a first date, you're not some barrack bunny he fucks with a mask on and never sees again!! So he’ll get his hair trimmed, shave his stubble, wear his nicer slacks instead of his usual worn jeans and iron his shirt before seeing you. Checking to make sure he didn't look dirty or smell so you wouldn't make that face from what he was hoping wasnt from him.

He’ll call you from outside the bookshop were your family flat was above and let you know he's here while you basically stomp around upstairs running to do the final touches on your makeup, making sure the dress you decided to wear wasn't too short and your hair wasn't standing on ends while you held the phone between your ear and shoulder hopping on one foot trying to get your shoe while you told him you’d be right down.

Simon, who checks his watch ( yes he has a watch this man is OLD) while waiting for you only turning his head when he hears your quick steps making way down the staircase in the back of the shop and patterning of your shoes across the store floor where you make your somewhat grand entrance out of the shop. He just kind watches you grip the door frame and place a hand on your knee to catch your breath because he doesn't know you basically just did 2 hours worth of hair, nails and makeup in 45 mins and still pulled it off.

“You look nice” was all he could choke out because he can't simply throw you over his shoulder and take you home and let you be his little live in girlfriend (dw give him time it'll happen)

You straighten yourself swallowing silently to yourself basically eating him alive with your eyes praying he can't tell (he can't hes busy thinking about how your gonna be late for lunch and doesn't want the good tables to get taken) letting your lips pull that stupid smile you have when your reading the softest part of a book where the mc finally gets what she needs.

“Really?” Of course when you said that it had to come with a little giggle that tickled his ears because that kind sound doesn’t come to often especially when he can see your face burning just a little and your fighting the fattest grin

“Absolutely”

Simon seems like the kinda guy to take you somewhere family run for lunch, quiet but the best damn food you’ll ever eat. Course you chat and you nudge him some of your fries where he placing some of the meat from his plate onto your (THAT'S NOT THE MEAT WE WANT) and you share a little “oh thats good” over your conversation that ends with you both deciding to go on a walk around the square

You’re just fucking eating up everything the whole time, actually hearing him talk more with that sweet deep mank accent while you explain the plot to some mystery book the shop stocked recently after he mentioned he liked the author, or when he picked his glass up for a drink and his arm flexed a little, oh my god you wanted to climb this man like a tree and pick his brain apart.

Obviously Simons is a very attractive man but you like your men with some sorta substance, and he has plenty. The way he actually listened to you and had questions on whatever you were saying, not making you feel like you were suffocating him because he happily listened to your blabbering about the latest new installment in a series you've been keeping up with or when you had to explain the concept of reddit to him to explain a story. It was nice, like he didn't mind you had so much in your head and was happy to let you spill it out

You’re like a breath of fresh air for Simon, most of his time off a mission is spent reading anything in a park or at the gym just trying to make the time pass quicker till his next mission, he didn't know what made him give you his number but seeing you twice in one day didn't feel like something he could ignore. Your hands were as soft as they looked, and you didn't smell like smoke or gunpowder, you didn't care that he wasn't super talkative because that look in your eye told him you know he was listening, he especially liked how you didn’t push when he said he just did “contracting” for work

When the date ended with you both walking back to the shop and you both stood in front of the big glass door quiet and awkward while you shifted from one foot to another not yet ready to leave. At Least not without a kiss, least you could do to say thank you for letting talk your ear off.

“Simon”

“Yeah?”

“Somethin on your cheek c’mere”

There's was literally nothing on his cheek but he still leaned down to you indulging whatever you had in mind, when you hooked a finger on the collar of his shirt tugging his face much closer

“Still cant see it?” He gruffed out letting your eyes meet his while his hands made fists in his jacket pockets trying not to just jump out and hold you by the cheeks

“Def can now ‘ts right here”

You tugged the shirt a little closer, slotting your lips onto a small hum leaving you when his tongue licked your bottom lip with you happily obliging parting just enough for your tongues to slide over each other, before pulling away.

“Did ya get it?” hes got a stupid grin now too not as wide and bright as your but its there

“Mhm”

You did you it *confetti*

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #ghost call of duty #sorry i just love civilian reader x ghost

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ollypopwrites · 12 days

Text

From Depths Unknown ; Part 3

Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence (there is a lot discussion of blood and injuries in this chapter), Major Character Death, Sexual Content (mostly just horny thoughts), background Bloodweave.

Chapter Summary:

Not even Moonrise Tower nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it.

Notes: I wanted some whump, okay? I promise they will fuck eventually.

“Rolan? Really? I thought he hated your guts.”

“You haven’t seen him pining from afar?” Shadowheart asked dramatically.

“Honestly, Tav, he’s a decent bloke,” Wyll said. “A bit rough around the edges —“

“A bit?!” Karlach protested.

“Alright, quite rough around the edges,” Wyll amended.

“And pompous,” Shadowheart added.

“Completely up his own ass,” Karlach agreed.

“Alright!” Tav said, “I’ve told you all, nothing happened.”

Her and Rolan had been camp gossip from the moment they had walked into their suite; Tav had a hangover and a strong need for coffee, while Rolan was stiff with embarrassment at the questioning looks from her companions. He couldn’t stay long, but they had food and tea and coffee, which was the least she could offer him. She remembered most of the night: the crying, yelling and him having to arrange a makeshift bed for her. As it was embarrassing as it was, she felt a little better getting it all off of her chest. The details were fuzzy, but she knew she had come on to him. While nothing untoward had happened, the camp only saw their leader come through the doors looking bedraggled with an equally out of sorts tiefling wizard. Tongues had been sent wagging immediately.

“But you do fancy him, don’t you?” Karlach asked.

She took a deep breath. “Can we focus on the task at hand?”

“Only after you admit you want to shag the grumpy wizard,” Shadowheart teased.

“Fine, fine!” Tav felt like tearing out her hair. “Yes, yes I like him. Okay. Can we move on now?”

“Sheesh,” Karlach breathed. “Take him to bed, mate. You need it.”

She didn’t need Karlach to tell her that. She pushed on, ignoring them. Wyll, however, caught up quickly to her.

“I won’t lie to you, my friend, he hasn’t made the best impression,” he told her. “But he’s truly a good man.”

“I know that.”

“So, are you going to come clean about what happened on the roof then?” He was grinning, boyish and mischievous.

“Not you too, Wyll, please you were my last hope.”

Her only saving grace was that they found their way to an unusual engineer named Redhammer and his submersible, which happened to be the same culprit that had killed one the the priestesses of Umberlee. While she had half agreed to kill or hand him over if she found him, he offered an opportunity to find the hostage Gondians in the Iron Throne. Tav decided to take some inspiration from Astarion, using him to get down to the Iron Throne before she ultimately left his fate up to Umberlee's order. She thought she should have felt guilty, but he had been so casual about killing the priestess and transporting hostages she found herself lacking any real remorse. After the tadpole was out of her head, she thought she may have to reassess her moral compass.

After saving the Gondians, Duke Ravengaurd himself and their old friend Omeluum she was happy to be alive and not blown to bits at the bottom of the Chionthar. The priestesses of Umberlee had even rewarded them with a beautiful robe in exchange for finding Redhammer. Gale was the only other person it would have been suited for and he was too embarrassed to wear it despite the entire camp teasing him about it. It was a bit risqué, but when Tav slipped it on she felt it cling to her body and the strange fabric was so damn comfortable she felt as if it were a second skin. She quite liked it.

They made their way to Sorcerer’s Sundries, knowing the next day would be their chance to finish up the infiltration of the Steelwatch Foundry. Tav was sure Gortash would not bring the Steelwatch down on them right away. The last thing he needed was his army of metal titans tearing apart the city to find them, civilians would inevitably get hurt and then they would get angry. Gortash needed a city scared but ready to cling to a tyrant that could keep them safe, not ready to revolt for stepping on their children. They had to move, but she wanted to let him sweat and take time to get ready for their final push.

The foundry, the hammer, the last Netherstone. Then the brain. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

Rolan was rarely in the shop these days. His mirror image had taken his position at the counter, helped along by the other specialists and Cal or Lia. Tav made her way upstairs; despite her pride she owed Rolan thanks for the night before and an apology for the teasing her friends had thrown his way in the wake of it. And she wondered if he’d like her new robes. It was silly, and pointless in the face of everything else that was going on but the desire was there, hiding behind her ‘noble’ reasons for disturbing him in the middle of the day. She made her way through the portal which led to the study Rolan was now using as his own office throughout the day. The blood, ash and bodies had all been cleared away — the decadent room was still in process of being redone to Rolan’s standards but it had come a long way since Lorroakan’s death.

“Rolan?” She called.

“A minute, please,” he replied from the balcony.

Tav rolled her eyes, muttering about wizards and their books. She strolled about the room. He seemed to be in the process of organizing tomes, one of the animated suits of armor was picking up a stack piled on the ground and taking it through another portal. She recalled him mentioning a library, and wanting to cultivate his own favorites for the study. It was his, now, after all.

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

When he had heard Tav’s voice carry through the study, he noted a lack of distinct irritation at being interrupted. Another sign that Tav was becoming worryingly exempt from his usual ‘prick-ish particularities’ as Cal had so kindly put it. He had just seen her that morning and as awkward as breakfast had been amongst her companions, he had to force himself to finish putting books on the shelf before heading down the stairs. He needed to retain some of his dignity, after all, despite his desire to eagerly stop everything he was doing at the sound of her voice. Tav waited for him below, and as usual, he took a mental note of any new injuries she may have acquired.

Robes with pieces of protective gear was what she normally wore. Soft leathers and sturdy cotton robes, with something to protect her vulnerable points. Even out of armor she usually only wore a simple tunic and cloth pants. His surprise to find her at the center of his study in an outfit that was all flesh and skin tight fabric made him stop in his tracks. The light blue ensemble clung to every curve, dipped low between her breasts (that damned pearl dangling at the center of her chest matched well with this new outfit, he noted), and was slit at the legs so all he saw was skin bared up to a concerning height on her thighs. Her worn leather boots stuck out, not quite fitting in with the sleek outfit, but that did nothing to preserve him from staring dumbly.

His momentary gawking was interrupted when he realized this scrap of fabric was meant to be armor. All the soft spots of her were exposed to cuts and bruises.

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

“You don’t like it?”

“That’s hardly the point I’m trying to make,” he said quickly.

“Then what is the point?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “You can’t wear that in a fight. It’s…”

Ravishing. So easy to slide aside so I could have any part of you I wanted, he thought.

“Impractical.” He said aloud.

“And you decide what I wear now?”

“No,” he replied through grit teeth. “Of course not.”

“Well, I like it.” Tav shrugged him off, turning away and walking around to look at his progress in the study.

The dress was just as tight in the back, he noticed, his mind reeling and his pulse thrumming. “Where did you even get it?”

“It was a gift from the priestesses of Umberlee,” she said.

“And what, pray tell, did you do to earn it?”

“Freed some hostages in a prison at the bottom of the Chionthar and found the man who killed one of their order.” She listed casually. “Duke Ravenguard was down there, if you can believe it. And then Archduke Gortash, magnanimous man that he is, tried to blow us up,” her tone dripped with sarcasm, “it’s been quite a day.”

“Your usual heroics, then,” he grit out.

“Of course,” she grinned, and everything about the smile was a challenge, a tease, and he was certain he never wanted her so badly. “I know you love to hear about my gallantry. Not bad for a girl who started the day with a terrible hangover, I think.”

“Is there a point to your visit?” He asked tersely.

“Actually, yes,” she finally came up to him.

Close enough to touch. The fabric looked soft, and shimmery, probably pleasant enough to run his hands over but the exposed space between her breasts seemed particularly ripe for licking. His jaw clenched as he made the Herculean effort to look her in the eyes. The teasing look she had before was gone, something a little more bashful and sweet. It only made it harder to keep his hands to himself.

“I wanted to say thank you for last night.” She said, “I don’t remember all of it… but I know I was not at my best. Thanks for putting up with me, and sorry my friends are busybodies.”

Rolan didn’t know what to say. A whirlwind was inside him. Pure want and affection. Irritation at said want and affection. Irritation at himself for not being able to just say what he wanted to. This was all getting entirely out of hand.

“How is your arm?”

“My….arm?”

“You’re still scarred, from that ring you so foolishly put on when you had no idea what it did,” he snapped.

“Oh, that,” she deflated. “Fine. Just these marks,” she pushed back the sleeves of the robe to look at them. “Gale thinks it was some kind of connection to the elemental plane.” At his responding silence she shifted awkwardly. “Okay,” she drew out the word, “I’m going to go.”

“Goodbye.”

He stayed to watch her go, eyes glued to the way the robes clung to her bottom, the shift of the fabric and delicate metalwork over her exposed legs.

“You can’t wear that,” he blurted out. “Not in battle. You’ll be ripped to shreds.”

And so would the robe itself, which would be a terrible shame in and of itself, the more he thought about it.

“You said that already.”

“It bears repeating.”

She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Rolan.”

As she stepped through the portal and he was left alone he groaned, rubbing both hands over his face, as he muttered to himself, “you’re going to kill me you meddlesome, irritating, beautiful woman.”

While there had been little notice before the Netherbrain broke free and started unleashing terror on the city, Tav had at least warned her allies ahead of time that it could happen any day at any time. With Rolan’s permission, Counselor Florrick had spread the word that the tower was going to be one point of haven in the city. It had protections and wards, and plenty of space. When all hells broke loose, Cal and Lia were holding down the fort while he made his way to High Hall. Thankfully most of the fighting was happening in the upper city, but mind flayers were running rampant, the sky was red with fire, full of errant blasts from nautiloids and dragons.

He sent civilian healers as he found them to the tower, instructing them to take whoever they could with them. The high hall was crowded, Flaming Fists taking account of all the allies of Tav’s which had gathered. Many of them he recognized, some he had never seen before, but his heart swelled with pride at the gathering of people who were ready to support Tav and her friends.

When she came through the door with all her camp in tow, smattered in blood, as she always was, he thought she may cry at the showing. There wasn’t much time, but she took a moment to appraise them of her plan. Her entire party would take the main push to the brain, along with the illithid she had with her. There was no time to explain, she only assured them that this person — Orpheus, was on their side. She needed anyone she did not call to her side to focus on protecting the few points of refuge they had managed to secure in the city, and above all to keep as many civilians safe as possible. She was given means to summon her allies as needed.

As Tav made the quick effort to offer thanks to everyone individually, he felt the terror of it being the last time he saw her. This was not the Tav which he’d had drinks with at the Elfsong every night leading up to this battle, laughing with her friends, carefree for just a few hours. This was the woman who had lead four people to victory against a small army of Goblins, who stormed Moonrise towers and lifted the curse over Reithwin. Focused, determined and if she was scared it never once showed on her face. Only the storm dancing behind her eyes, calm before she exploded into action.

Rolan had to believe the next time he’d see her, she would be relaxed and teasing him about something over a glass of wine. As she approached him last, before heading out to save the city, he bolstered himself to be whatever she and the rest of the people of Baldur’s Gate needed.

“The tower is ready, you need only call.” He told her swiftly.

“Thank you.” She nodded. “Rolan, I — “ she bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. “If I survive this —“

“You will,” he said certainly.

“If I do,” she repeated, eyes boring into his with earnesty he hardly knew how to deal with, “would you like to join me for a bottle of Arabellan Dry?”

“Are you asking me on a date? Right now?” As if to punctuate his point the ground shook, horrible screeching sounds and the roar of a dragon sounded out.

“Might be my last chance,” she breathed.

“It won’t be,” he insisted. If she was going to be bold enough to ask him out for a drink before running off to certain death — he had to rise to the challenge. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’ll come back to me, gloriously and infuriatingly victorious.”

If he said it confidently enough it may just come true. It had worked for him before.

Tav nodded, squeezing his hand in hers. She hesitated, but there was little time for more to be said. She suddenly began to dig under the collar of her armored robes with her free hand. After fidgeting for a moment with something around her neck she held out the chain of the necklace which held her Pearl of Power.

“Can you hold onto it for me? I don’t want to lose it again.”

“You may need it,” he was unsure what else to say.

“Already used it today,” she said, “it’s just sentimental right now. And just — hold onto it. Please.”

Tav took his hand and placed the necklace into his palm, gently curling his fingers over it. It was such a small trinket, but the implications of her leaving it with him made it feel immeasurably valuable. He thought he would rather die than let it come to any harm. The dramatics of such a train of thought struck him so violently with the realization that he was undoubtedly in love. The terrible timing for such an epiphany was only emphasized by a loud boom on the roof and the shudder of dust and small bits of debris raining down on them.

Tav let go of his hand and with a determination in her eye he knew all too well, led her party out into the midst of terror with no other word.

There was no time to stop.

Not even Moonrise nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it. She had seen Astarion and Gale share what they thought might possibly be their last kiss. Watching them felt like an intrusion, but the glance she had gotten of desperate softness in their eyes made her more determined than ever. Tav silently vowed that she would come out of this with everyone alive and ready to begin anew.

When they finally found the stalk of the Elderbrain it led higher and higher up over the city. She felt the adrenaline spurring her to start to climb, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know they followed. At the top it was an onslaught of psionic forces: the netherbrain, the illithids it commanded, and the tadpoles in their heads revolting at every move they made to fight against them. There were moments that blanked out, as she was stunned or her head hurt so badly she felt she couldn’t see. They were all moving on pure instinct to survive.

Karlach’s rage was an unstoppable force, Lae’zel cut down anyone in her path with brutal efficiency, and the only thing more intense than the amount of healing magic Shadowheart was expending was the force with which she brought down her mace. Jaheira and Halsin were in charge of summoning reinforcements as needed, controlling the battlefield with Druidic magic while Gale sent off spell after spell with devastating effect. Astarion and Wyll danced around the battlefield; Wyll’s combined magic and skill with the blade making him virtually untouchable while Astarion flitted in and out of visibility, daggers digging into flesh with deadly accuracy.

And she exploded with magic.

Her arm hurt, the flowing lines of whatever had touched her when she put on that ring in the tower glowed and raged as she gave everything she had. When she felt she had nothing left, it fed her new power, keeping a steady stream of lightning ready to strike. There was not a lot of time to think on this new development, only time to acknowledge that whatever it did to her, her magic was thriving on it. Her magic felt centered for the first time in her life. Controllable, not just something she was barely wrangling and flinging around blindly.

The last push to the crown was upon them. The way just needed to be cleared, she called to Halsin over the clamor of it all, tadpole transmitting to the others her plan. In truly rumbling cacophony explosions rained down, almost clearing their path. For a moment she took in the show of power from Ramazith’s Tower, but they had to bolt forward.

Lae’zel took the lead, attacking an illithid arcanist guarding the portal they needed to get into. Gale was quick behind her, magic missiles firing off in every direction and counterspell quickly cast afterwards. Karlach was keeping the way clear, as more illithid were summoned, hacking at tentacled heads until they rolled off. Tav took off for the portal, only to come face to face with her father.

No. It was her dream guardian. The Emperor’s trick.

When she had first seen the man in her dreams she had thought the same thing: he was just similar looking enough to her dear old dad to get her guard down but not so identical it would ring off alarm bells in her mind. Tav’s father was dead, after all, the Emperor had toed the line of familiarity on purpose. The single moment of hesitation was enough for the guardian to blast her with psionic energy, knocking her off of her feet. An intellect devourer took its chance and leapt onto her. Searing pain spread through her abdomen as claws dug in and tore. It was climbing up her body, ripping skin with every step. Her arm was pinned underneath one of its horrid legs, unable to cast, and she felt the thunderous pulse in her chest, the tingle of electricity in her veins — and then a dagger came down stopping the devourer in its tracks.

Astarion was above her, kicking the thing off of her. With a cry she felt the claws slip loose, blood pouring out of the wounds. The pain slipped away to the back of her mind as she flung forward, hands outstretched when a chain of lightning erupted at another dream guardian which tried to stop Gale. Astarion helped her to her feet, shoving a meager healing potion at her. It was not enough to close the wounds, but it gave her a rush of new vitality and they ran for the portal

This was it. This was the final task. All they had to do was survive long enough to take out the Netherbrain.

After setting off the blasts at Halsin’s command, Rolan had launched himself halfway down the stairs, nearly stumbling and stepping on his own tail. There were a handful of Flaming Fists, armed civilians, Cal, Lia and even Aradin guarding the perimeter of the tower; he had to go join them. The store was always chaotic with all the summons wandering around and magical effects but this was a different vein of mayhem. Anyone he could find with healing magic along the way was running around, people were screaming and crying on the floors and any clear surface available.

It sounded like Elturel.

Shaking his head of the thought, he pushed through the doors. People were still running, trying to get through the doors of the tower and whatever building still stood to get away from the carnage. The square was full of bodies and blood and rubble. He spotted Cal and Lia, both alive and fighting well. Cal’s swing was strong, Lia’s aim was impeccable — he was able to focus on casting. An illithid floated forward, chasing after a meal of one of the Flaming Fists' brains, Rolan quickly cast color spray, confusing the creature and shortly after one of Lia’s arrows sunk into its elongated head.

Cal got stunned, his head in his hands as he wobbled on his feet, two mindflayers floating towards him. Rolan nearly tripped over his robes to grab his brother by his shirt and pull him back, Cal fell and as soon as he was out of the line of attack Rolan felt the boom of thunder erupt from his hand. The illithids were sent backwards, landing on their back, prone.

“Cal,” he turned to offer a hand to his brother, “stay steady.”

“Yeah,” Cal grunted, shaking his head free of the psionic force which had stunned him. “I’m good, I’m alright.”

“Rolan! Incoming!”

Lia’s voice called out before she let an arrow loose. His eyes flicked to the sky, a nautiloid was overhead, a beam of some sort beginning to glow with energy.

“To me! Now!”

Aradin and anyone nearby enough to hear him huddled close, Rolan swiftly casting an orb of invulnerability. He had never cast it before, not successfully, but it was all he could think of to try. A slight red shimmer created a bubble around them, the nautiloid made its attack. A few people were decimated by the blow immediately outside of the orb, even a ravenous illithid in the middle of extracting a brain from a skull had not made it out of the way in time. The spell worked. Rubble flew into the air with the blast, and stopped bluntly at the barrier.

Thank the Gods. Rolan thought to himself, sweat beading down his temple.

Lia ducked in and out of the orb to shoot off arrows, clearing the path for some to make their way to the tower or within the confines of Rolan’s temporary protection. He managed to keep the orb up long enough for the blasts to cede after the nautiloid was distracted from attacking the ground by a Githyanki force of dragon riders.

“There’s more coming!” Aradin yelled. “We should fall back into the tower.”

“The wards can only take so much,” Rolan snapped back. “Get out there and kill something or get out of the way!”

He never understood Zevlor’s well-known ire for the mercenary more as he fled inside. As he had said, more illithids came out of the woodwork. The alien army had not found it necessary to send any armored mind flayers — relying on the freshly transformed tadpoled masses which had been lurking in the city. They had numbers, but most of them were stark naked, and sloppy in the unusual new bodies. Many of them fell quickly, which was his only comfort against the slowly dwindling numbers of his own allies. If they just kept it up, they could maintain the line of defense around the tower.

“Come on, Tav,” he heard Lia scream as another Flaming Fist fell to an illithid. “Just kill it already!”

There was no way for Tav to hear them, but he understood the panic. He felt each second that passed since he set off the blasts from the tower as if it were an hour. They could not keep this up forever, and part of him knew that as intense as it was on the ground, up there where the brain hovered in the air it was ten times worse.

“Tav needs us to hold strong,” he called to his sister. “We owe her that, at least.”

Lia was too far away for him to be sure but thought he saw her jaw set in the same way Cal’s did when he was concentrating. His brother felled an illithid in one blow, clean and easy at the neck.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Cal said, “but Rolan is right!”

It truly was the end of the world.

When Tav hit the water, she blacked out for a moment. Her eyes opened and the gasp that wracked her body filled her mouth and lungs with water as she realized too late in her waking that she was in the Chionthar. She floundered to the surface, hacking and coughing. Once she had her breath, she started screaming for her companions.

“Here!” Gale yelled.

He was not too far off from her, hanging onto some floating debris, with an unmoving lump with white hair. She swam over, grabbing onto the debris.

“Is he alive?” She panicked.

“Breathing,” Astarion’s voice was weak, “stop screaming.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Tav felt herself succumbing to the confusion. “Karlach! Have you seen anyone? Wyll!”

“I’ve got Shadowheart and Wyll!” She heard Karlach call, a red spot in the distance, tethering two limp bodies as she kept them on their backs.

Lae’zel, Halsin, Minsc and Jaheira were still unaccounted for. Tav’s eyes scanned the water, dawn hadn’t broken yet, it was still dark and the depths below were impossible to see into. The only real light was provided by the city which was still very much on fire. Just as Tav was about to give into despair, a giant tentacle broke the water, then another, in its grips was an unconscious Lae’zel, and Minsc who was sputtering and cackling like a madman. Finally a third, and Halsin broke the surface.

“Minsc! Where’s Jaheira?”

“You look upon her!” He called back.

Wild shape was one hell of a thing. Tav called to the giant octopus whose eye peered into hers as it breached the surface, telling Jaheira to grab Karlach first as she was treading water and trying to keep two people afloat at the same time. Tav watched, only vaguely hearing Astarion and Gale speaking next to her. She needed to see them all safely put upon the dock, she needed to know she had done it. She hadn’t lost anyone.

“Stop trying to talk to me,” Astarion muttered. “I’m furious with you.”

“My love, I would have made sure you were transported out of harm's way,” Gale attempted to sooth him.

“And what about you?” Astarion snapped. “What was I supposed to do without you?”

She was not quite sure what they were talking about.

“We were losing, Astarion,” Gale pleaded. “The orb may have been—“

“The orb?” Tav heard her neck crack as she swung her head so fast to look at him. She felt dizzy.

“He very nearly blew himself up, again,” Astarion seethed. “I saw him reach for the dagger.”

“Gale!” Tav scolded. “I told you — not an option!”

“Tav, please, if all else failed —“

“But it didn’t!” She yelled.

“No,” he sighed. “No, it did not. So please, can we make it to land and put this to rest.”

Just as Tav was about to argue with him, she felt a tug at her midsection, and uncomfortable stinging of pain accompanying the grasp. Astarion and Gale were lifted out of the water by tentacles at the same time she was and they were being slowly carried to the dock. It was supposed to be over once they all made it on dry land. She had given in to the hope that she had finally led her party to their final battle without losing a single member. The victory was supposed to be sweet, and cathartic.

The moment they caught their breath on the dock, Karlach’s engine started to fail.

The main floor of the store was cleared of most furniture to make room for cots full of injured people. Amateur and professional healers alike were running around madly, calling for aid from whoever was still standing. To his credit, he had begun to organize as best he could. It was still chaos, but he was managing to take requests, send off whatever volunteer was nearest to assist, and have Cal take on grabbing potions and herbs from the stores as needed. Rolan was no healer, but he could wrap a wound before too much blood was lost as some poor soul waited for someone to be available. He could also bark orders, arrange for Fists to section off high risk patients from those who could survive without immediate attention.

There were two surgeons he had managed to recruit. Their space was at the very back near the necromancy supplies were, with a temporary shielding wall of stone. It didn’t drown the screams of agony as they operated but it prevented anyone from witnessing an amputation.

When the heroes of the hour burst through the door of the tower, even amongst the chaos, Rolan knew something was wrong. They looked like hell. Jaheira was bleeding from a deep wound on her head, Shadowheart was limping, and even Minsc who was always quick to get back on his feet looked like he had been thrown from a twenty story building and felt it. A good chunk of the party was missing. Wyll and Karlach were nowhere to be seen. In fact way too many of them were just gone. Astarion, Gale and Lae’zel didn’t follow, and neither did Tav. Halsin was the very last of them in, carrying someone.

“A bed! Now!” The Archdruid’s voice boomed over the chaos

A humming sound rang in his ears, the entire world pinpointed to the form of the woman in Halsin’s arms as he was directed to place her on a free bed by a Fist.

Rolan let his feet guide him to her side, a numb feeling keeping panic at bay. On the bed was a bloody mess of a woman, who in all appearances looked like Tav but… That surely wasn’t his Tav. That was an empty shell; the skin had no vibrancy, the only truly bright color was the blood leaking out of the deep wound in her stomach. Her eyes, open staring up at the ceiling, were empty.

Shadowheart placed her hands over Tav and the glow of her healing magic flashed and ebbed away. She tried again, but the magic stuttered out. Shadowheart let out a strangled scream in frustration, pounding glowing hands into Tav's chest and each rush of power was weaker and weaker.

“What are you doing? Heal her,” Rolan demanded. “Fix her!”

“I can’t —“ Shadowheart’s voice cracked.

“Shadowheart’s magic is spent,” Jaheira’s tone was sharp but even, the voice of a General. “And healing magic won’t work on her now. This is a magic shop — find a resurrection scroll.”

Resurrection implied she was dead. Logically, yes, he could see that. Tav was dead, nothing more than spent flesh and blood. But this was not supposed to happen, this was beyond everything he knew of her.

She always survives. She always does the impossible. She can't be dead.

“How did this happen?”

“Rolan,” Shadowheart pleaded his name, disregarding the question, “do you have a resurrection scroll?”

The buzzing in his ears stopped, the cacophony of the tower coming back to him. A solution that he could focus on. He took off in a sprint, jumping over the counter. His hands shook as he opened the safe where they kept the high value scrolls.

“Rolan, that Florrick lady is here, she brought some — what’s wrong?”

He didn’t hear Lia come up, and didn’t take the time to acknowledge her as he started reading through the stock. “We must have one.”

“Talk to me,” Lia said again getting his attention, “what’s happened?”

An idea jolted him, there were stores and stores of supplies in the study. “Upstairs, in the study, the scroll collection —“ he quickly said, “we need a resurrection scroll.”

“But —“

“Check the vaults, check the study — find me a resurrection scroll!”

Taking in his frantic tone, Lia ran off without further question. There was no possible way this was how Tav’s story ended. In a numb haze he remembered what little he knew about healing and divine magic; there was a time limit on a basic resurrection spell. At some point a soul was too far gone and True Resurrection would be the only other option. Plain resurrection scrolls were rare enough as it was, but a True Resurrection scroll was near impossible for most people to get ahold of.

Chain of lightning, hold person, cloud kill — his hands fumbled to work as fast as he read the scrolls. He had no real idea how much time was passing, but each second was too long. There were dozens of scrolls, and he looked at each one. Finding nothing of use he ran around the counter to start up the stairs.

He should have told her at High Hall. He should have just said it. He should have thought to find a scroll ahead of time for this very purpose. What a cosmic joke, for her to have made it this far, only to die at the finish line. She deserved better. He would make sure she got a better ending than this. He nearly ran into Lia jumping the last few steps of the staircase.

“I found one!”

She held up the scroll and he snatched it out of her hand, narrowly dodging a healer as he ran to the bed where Shadowheart was praying desperately.

“Found — the scroll —“ he stammered out, short of breath.

“Use it, quickly,” Jaheira said.

His fingers fumbled with the clasp that held it shut, as it unfurled he knew he needed to breathe through the panic in his chest. He could do an incantation, he could read the words off of a scroll as he had a hundred times before. There was not a God he prayed to usually, not one he thought to plead with specifically. Mystra, maybe. But given what he knew of her and her friends, Mystra might not be so inclined to help Tav.

His willpower would have to be enough; this was not how her story ended, he repeated to himself. She was too good, too resilient, too kind, too forgiving, too infuriatingly wonderful — too loved. Rolan was not going to let her disappear that easily, he vowed as he spoke the incantation.

The spell took hold, golden light shuddering Tav’s body, and then disappearing. For a terrifyingly long moment, he was unsure if it worked. But her eyes blinked, at first it looked like a twitch, but then they fluttered a few times and the light was back in them. Her limbs jolted like she had been electrocuted and then a truly shocking deep gasp for air had her sitting up on the cot.

“There you are, Cub,” Jaheira said, a steady hand on her shoulder which emitted the familiar green light of her Druidic magic. “Didn’t think we’d let you get out of cleaning up, did you?”

“Hurts,” she sucked breaths in desperately.

“Lay down,” Shadowheart said. “We’ll find a healer.”

“Where —?”

Rolan was frozen to the spot. She still looked so close to death. Her head swiveled over to him, eyes confusedly still searching for some sense of what was going on.

“You.” Was all she said.

“Yeah, me,” he breathed. “Lay down. You look awful.”

“Rude,” she wheezed but let herself ease onto her back. “I think you look… good…” exhaustion, pain or any combination of whatever her body was going through had her slipping out of consciousness.

“Tav,” Rolan panicked, kneeling next to her. “Damn you, stay awake,” he grabbed her face in his hands and she gave him a heavy lidded stare.

“Trying,” she said.

She was still in rough shape. Halsin and Jahiera dumped the last dregs of their limited healing magic into her, doing just enough to keep her from bleeding out on the bed once more. Shadowheart tipped her head back for a basic healing potion, and it dribbled down the side of her face but it brought some of the vibrancy of her skin.

“She won’t succumb to the wounds, but she needs healing quickly,” Halsin seemed to be talking to himself more than them, as he took off to find someone to help.

“You can rest now,” Shadowheart assured her softly. “Right, Rolan?”

He wasn’t so sure. But Shadowheart was a healer, she knew better than him. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “That’s right.”

“Good,” Tav mumbled, “tired.”

Shadowheart and Rolan watched as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her chest rose and fell, although shallowly. Shadowheart heaved a big breath, recomposing herself. She looked around the room, and then to Rolan.

“I need to rest, then I’ll be able to help,” she seemed to be telling herself rather than him. “I’ll stay here,” she said, “I’ll stay with her and rest.”

“What can I do?” Rolan asked desperately.

“You are the Master of Ramazith’s tower,” Jahiera cut in. “This is your city, you have a duty to its people now — unless you wish to follow Lorroakan’s example, get to work.” Jaheira looked down at Tav, “we will look after her, as she has looked after us.”

Rolan never felt more like an outsider, and he felt he should watch whatever healer Halsin found. If only to see for himself that she was truly going to be alright. Shadowheart was watching the rise and fall of her chest with intense focus, and it felt wrong that she was the only one of their original group by her side.

“Rolan, there’s a fire that they can’t put out over in Heapside,” Cal was there, Rolan hadn’t even heard him approach.

“There’s summoning scrolls, water elementals,” he said distractedly.

“Go,” Shadowheart looked at him. “We’ve got her.”

“And that is supposed to be a comfort?” He snapped. “She was dead just moments ago under your watch!”

“She didn’t tell us,” Shadowheart said back, a tone of shame in her raised voice. “Everything was happening so fast — she didn’t tell us she was hurt!”

“No one here is to blame,” Jaheira was annoyed, he could tell by the arch of her brow. “She would tell you the same.”

He felt another comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to rage and yell to do something with the gods awful feeling in his chest. He nearly lost her.

“Rolan,” Cal said, “we have to —“

“Fine! Fine.”

The city still needed saving, despite the threat being gone. Who knew how much help was needed across the city. Running to everyone's rescue was what she would tell him to do, but still he was afraid to leave her side. He touched her cheek: warm, alive, despite looking worse than she ever had after a fight.

“She’ll be alright?” He asked, wincing slightly at the desperate crack in his voice.

Shadowheart nodded, her hand coming to squeeze his, “I promise, I won’t let her slip away again.”

Rolan had no other choice but to trust her.

Thank you for reading!

Next Chapter

#rolan x reader #rolan x tav #bg3 fanfiction #rolan fanfic #olly writes

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defectivevillain · 5 months

Text

this winding labyrinth

chapter 1: suffocation.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read that, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, mutilation, death, & animal death. the animal death is pretty detailed, so please don't read this fic if you're triggered by that kind of topic.

author's notes: This first chapter is a little bit of a mess imo, but I wanted to post it to assure you all that I don’t want to abandon this fic. It may take me longer to post and update chapters, especially since I graduated from uni (mwahahah) and my schedule may get busy. Still, I really enjoy writing this story—and you all seem to enjoy reading it. Both of those things are enough to keep me going.

Something extremely ironic happened around the time I was writing the last few chapters of Act 1. So… if you remember, in Chapter 6, Hannibal and the reader go on an opera date (of sorts). During that date, the reader remarks that they “don’t know the first thing about opera.” Those words were pretty much taken directly from my mouth. Fast forward to about mid-fall, I get a call for an interview for an internship. I end up doing the first interview, then a second interview… Then I get the internship. The irony? This internship is at an opera house. (What’s even more ironic is that I’m now getting to the point where I do actually know things about opera—I know different productions and directors and technical terms… It’s absolutely crazy. The universe is making me eat my words, lol.

To make matters even stranger, I was in the office for the internship one day and caught a glimpse of a television, which broadcasts what’s happening on the stage. Imagine my absolute surprise and fear when I look up at the television screen with absolutely no expectations and see a single man in a beige jumpsuit with something over his face standing on stage, his shadow silhouetted against the wall behind him. Imagine my surprise when I see that, not only is he standing in an enclosure with iron bars (just like the ones at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane), but it also looks as if he is staring right at me—and he looks exactly like Hannibal Lecter in captivity. It was simultaneously scary as hell and weirdly reassuring. Anyway, I’ve taken these experiences as cosmic confirmation that I should continue writing this fic. Lol.

Anyway. Back to the important things… I’m planning to borrow elements from both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon, but, similarly to the first act, there will be canon divergence and canon non-compliance. Also, as you probably discerned in the past act, there is some plot armor. But, this is fiction.

Your life currently takes two forms: before the Chesapeake Ripper… and after.

Before the Ripper, the leaf-stained pavement of the Bureau filled you with hope. Walking through the agency’s halls was a testament to the hard work that brought you there. Each assignment was an invaluable opportunity to further develop your interrogation and combat skills. You went to classes, completed assignments, trained, slept, and repeated the cycle the next day. Over and over and over again. But you were happy.

Life doesn’t feel so simple anymore. You feel like you’ve been fading for a while now, slowly deteriorating as you invest more and more energy into catching criminals. Your work has morphed into an exhausting mutual exchange, one in which you take murderers’ freedom and they take your restful nights. You can’t remember the last time you rested unencumbered by the horrors you’ve seen in the field.

By some miracle, Jack manages to keep the press relatively uninformed about the happenings behind the Ripper case. Everyone is too absorbed with the fact that Hannibal’s in captivity to remember to ask just how he got there, and you’re very grateful for that lapse in memory. You can just imagine the interactions you’d have with paparazzi. Is it true that he stabbed you? Is it true that he purposefully left you alive, only to surrender in your front yard and torment you with the constant knowledge that he will remain in the same place, lying in wait until the moment you will inevitably need him? You shudder.

Even with all the chaos that comes from the Ripper case—the media coverage of Hannibal and the attention the FBI gets—life goes on. Back at the Bureau, you occasionally lecture the new recruits and you take on assignments along with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Jack is still wont to call on you at the most ungodly of hours; Beverly still trades lighthearted taunts with you; Brian Zeller still seems to hate your guts, for reasons you’re not quite sure of; Alana and you are back to a steady friendship, albeit with occasional beats of unexplained tension and awkward silence.

Criminality continues to occur in the Ripper’s wake. You’re not surprised: the imprisonment of one criminal doesn’t beget the imprisonment of another. Even so, it’s difficult for you to proceed as if things are normal. You see traces of Hannibal in each of the monsters you apprehend. Your emotions are starting to eat you alive from the inside. You don’t have a therapist to assist you with those emotions anymore. And, while you think therapy would be helpful, you also know that there’s no way in hell you’d be able to actually be honest with a therapist without being imprisoned yourself. The things you’ve done and the urges you’ve felt… Neither is even close to a semblance of normality.

You take a deep breath. You have no issue stopping other criminals, sending them to empty white walls and thin mattresses. Why was Hannibal Lecter any different? You suppose you shouldn’t fool yourself—you know the answer to that question already: you got to know him. Beyond the mask of the Ripper, beyond the bloodied skin and cruel smile… You started to see him as a man, perhaps even a friend. Perhaps, even-

You tear yourself away from that thought process before it gets too far along. The semantics don’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re back in the field, back popping pills for your headaches and blinking fresh horrors from your eyes. All that matters is that the memory of Hannibal Lecter begins to fade away in the face of work— so much so that keeping busy helps you forget the pain.

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, a veterinarian walks into a stable under a farmer’s guidance. The two stand over a dead horse and the veterinarian frowns. The farmer explains the horse’s death before stepping aside, letting the professional work.

The farmer quickly becomes lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t expected the horse to die in the middle of her pregnancy. The farmer swallows past the tightness in their throat and tears their eyes away from the horse. They were looking forward to the birth of the foal, looking forward to helping the mother raise her offspring. The stable air suddenly feels suffocating and they take a look at the veterinarian’s turned back before stepping outside to get some fresh air.

Moments later, the veterinarian rejoins them. The doctor’s lips are drawn in a tight line and there’s a troubled expression on their face. The farmer feels any remaining composure promptly seep out of them, as the veterinarian suggests they come back into the stable.

“It feels like there’s something here,” the veterinarian says, their expression conflicted. They touch the horse’s womb with a gloved hand and frown.

“She was pregnant,” the farmer chokes out, their throat feeling tight again. It hurts to utter the words aloud.

“With twins?” The veterinarian asks, turning around to look at them.

“No, just one baby,” the farmer shakes their head. Why would they ask about twins? Surely, they don’t feel another baby in the womb. The thought of two deaths is morbid and distressing enough, but three? The farmer inhales shakily.

“There’s… something else here.” The veterinarian remarks, their face contorting as they feel the horse’s womb once more. They turn back to look at the farmer for assistance. The farmer feels a horrible, inexplicable sense of foreboding crawling up their skin. Despite that feeling, they nod to the veterinarian. The doctor nods in response and turns to the horse’s womb, before making an incision.

The veterinarian unearths the dead foal and places it on the nearby hay with infinite gentleness. The farmer’s chest begins to hurt as they come to terms with the sight before them. Their pain doesn’t end there, however. The veterinarian continues slicing along the skin before stopping and glancing back at them inexplicably. It’s as if they’re waiting for permission to continue. The farmer appreciates the gesture and they nod in affirmation. This mystery needs to be put to rest.

The veterinarian inhales sharply, sending the farmer’s heart racing. The farmer prompts them to step aside, revealing the horse’s womb. There’s… something there. The farmer squints at it, a gasp ripping its way from their lips as they realize just what they’re looking at. A human corpse lies on the stable floor, a stark shock of muted crimson against the golden strands of hay. The farmer brings a shaking hand to their pocket and calls the police.

Unaware of these occurrences, you slowly exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. You busy yourself with grading your students’ papers, and you don’t learn of the corpse until a few hours later, when the medicine begins to kick in and you’re foolishly convinced that you’ll be fine. Before you can leave for the day, Jack is walking up to you and beckoning you to the lab. The two of you grab Beverly along the way, which leaves the three of you to enter the laboratory that Price and Zeller are currently situated in. When you walk in, you’re immediately assaulted with the scent of formaldehyde. Price explains the situation behind the corpse, how a veterinarian found the body within the womb of a horse. The notion is strikingly similar to the other deaths by suffocation that have been eluding the BAU for several weeks. Jack seems to think the same thing, as he rattles off what he knows so far about the killer. You add things here and there—small things you can notice from the state of the corpse itself—before Price gets the group back on track.

“I called you here because…” Price trails off, frowning before readjusting his stethoscope and placing it on the victim’s chest once more. The room is deathly silent as he concentrates. “...There’s a heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t come with the onset of rigor mortis—we all know that,” Zeller continues, looking down at the corpse with a somewhat puzzled expression. He seems to sense you staring and looks up, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze meets yours. “She’s dead.” He announces with complete certainty.

“She was found in the womb of the horse?” Beverly asks. Everyone else nods and she pauses for a moment. “Make an incision and check the chest cavity.” There’s an unshakeable certainty in her voice and it throws you off for a moment, before you realize what she’s getting at. It’s not unfathomable that something was buried within the victim’s chest cavity. Suffocation seems to be a common theme with this killer. Did they put some sort of dead animal in the corpse? The thought makes your stomach turn.

“Alright,” Price acquiesces, after glancing at Jack for approval. Crawford nods, evidently attributing value to Beverly’s suggestion. The four of you—Crawford, Beverly, Zeller, and you—watch as Price leans in and makes a careful incision in the chest. For several moments, there’s nothing but a tense silence in the air as Jimmy works. The quiet is broken a few seconds later when Price takes a sharp breath. “I saw something.”

“Keep going,” Jack demands, bringing Jimmy’s attention back to the task at hand. Price nods and makes the incision a little bigger. All of you are watching in anticipation, waiting for something you’re not quite sure will appear.

All of a sudden, there’s a flash of motion. A yellow blur flits about the cavity, before reaching upwards and extending its wings to fly out. You watch in disbelief as the bloodstained bird stretches its wings and flies about the lab, colliding with the sheen of the fluorescent lighting and sending shadows flickering along the floor.

Jack is the first one to respond. He quickly paces over to the small window located near the ceiling and opens it, allowing the bird an escape. For a few moments, the bird doesn’t seem to notice: it’s too overwhelmed with the sudden change in environment to comprehend that it has just been granted an escape. It has a chance at true freedom, but it’s too busy taking in the laboratory’s flimsy promises to notice. The bird eventually notices the open window and flies out of it, before Jack closes the laboratory off from the outside world once more.

The group begins discussing what just occurred, but your mind is elsewhere. You feel a strange sort of kinship with the bird: suffocated beneath rows of ribs and walls of tissue and skin; banished to the space between; too taken with the small allowances to notice freedom within reach. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Your headache is returning, as pressure builds up in your temples and constricts your very skin. It’s significantly harder to breathe. Every time you blink, you’re greeted with the memory of that bright yellow bird bursting from its confines, greeting the stale laboratory air with beating wings. You step outside the lab to get some fresh air, trading your smaller prison for a bigger one—just as the bird did mere moments ago.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to find you. After all, you’re not hidden—you’re simply leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the laboratory. Jack strides up to you, his hands in his pockets and that familiar tight line drawn across his face. You suspect he’ll get wrinkles a lot sooner than everyone else his age—sheerly because of all the responsibility he holds and the pressure he’s forced to perform under. It must be exhausting to be the one calling the shots in these horrible situations. You had always assumed Jack had the easy job, but looking at him now, you think that assumption must be incorrect. He is suffering, just as you are. Perhaps… Jack has just grown better at hiding it.

The thought makes Jack’s remark slip in one ear and right out the other. You ask him to repeat himself and he sighs. “We need to go to the stable where the corpse was found. There are several police officers there already, but…” But we need to do a more thorough investigation , he doesn’t say. You hear him anyway and nod. Jack walks past you and paces purposefully down the hall, not even bothering to look and see if you’re following him. Perhaps he already knows you will follow him.

What follows is an awkward car ride. Neither of the two of you attempt to break the tense silence, leaving a suffocating air of uncertainty and indecision. You don’t know what to say to Jack, so you instead busy yourself with looking out the window. You resolutely pretend not to notice your boss’s gaze repeatedly flitting over to you and, after a painful amount of time, Jack is driving up the gravel path that leads to a modest farmhouse and a beautiful wooden stable.

The place is already crawling with police officers and FBI agents. Unfortunately, the police were the first ones to be informed of the case, which means the FBI is forced to share jurisdiction with them. You know Jack isn’t too happy about that, especially once you see the frown on his face as he watches the police officers clumsily investigate. They don’t have the right training for a situation like this and Jack is delighted to inform them of that fact—albeit with much more sugar coated wording than you would have utilized. A few minutes later, the cops are gone, leaving Jack, you, and the set of agents that Jack requested to follow after your car on the drive over. The other agents are quick to secure the crime scene, while Jack and you decide to explore the premises a little first.

The property features a small, rather unremarkable house with slightly dirty bricks and a well-loved bench swing on the porch. The front door is agape, revealing hardwood flooring and items strewn about. Jack and you exchange a glance before walking into the home. You don’t see any sign of life until you reach the kitchen and come across an older woman sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea. You’re quick to show your badge and explain the situation to her. She doesn’t seem to have a great idea of what’s going on, so you eventually decide to leave her be and keep looking about the property.

Next to the house is a rather large stable, complete with several different stalls and a wide variety of tools. You have no idea what half of the tools could possibly be used for, but the majority of them look as if they’ve been used at least once. There are bales of hay in the corner of the room and various accessories hanging near the post of each horse’s stall. There are only a few horses in the stable—you think you could’ve seen a few in the pastures out back earlier. There’s a horrible stench pervading the air, and it’s not the typical odor that comes from a farm. It’s the smell of death. You look at Jack and he nods, inclining his head and gesturing for you to continue exploring the stable. It isn’t until you reach the last stall—one that is inexplicably larger than the rest—that you find the source of the stench. The rotted corpse of the horse rests at the back of the stall, the womb flayed open. The organs have been removed, but the smell of decay remains. Surprisingly enough, you’re not alone in this stall. A brown-haired man sits cross-legged on the floor next to the horse, a blank expression on his face.

“...Hello?” You decide to try. There’s no response. “Excuse me?” Still no response.

You glance at Jack and he raises his eyebrows, before turning to the stranger. “You must be Peter Bernardone,” Jack remarks. The mention of the man’s name seems to be enough to get his attention. On second thought, you remember Jack offhandedly mentioning that there may be a stablehand on site. It seems you’ve found him.

“That’s me,” the man replies flatly, staring ahead with glassy eyes. He looks as if he’s on an entirely different plane of existence, as he looks at the wall ahead of him with enough intensity to melt it.

“Jack Crawford, FBI,” Jack answers with an introduction of his own. He flashes his badge for a moment before putting it away. You can’t tell if Peter is even paying attention, but you do the same to make him more comfortable. “We’re just here to ask you some questions.”

“I want to talk,” Peter murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard. He pulls his knees up to his chest; his eyes haven’t strayed from the corpse of the animal in front of him. You feel your chest constrict a little at the sight.

“Good,” Jack responds with a nod.

“...To you,” Peter finishes with a gesture. To your complete surprise, he doesn’t point at Jack—he’s pointing at you. Jack blinks in equal surprise, looking at you for answers. You send him a helpless look. At first, you’re not sure why you seem more trustworthy than Jack. Then you remember Jack’s position and the intimidating aura he tends to give off. You think you’d want to talk to someone like yourself too, were you in Peter’s situation.

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t see the harm in having a conversation. You need information and, more importantly, answers. Jack stares at you for a long few seconds, before exhaling in evident exasperation.

“I’ll be outside,” Jack promises, before walking away. You wait until Jack is out of sight before you take a step closer to Peter, placing your hands in your pockets.

“What do you do here, Peter?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

“I volunteer here,” Peter responds, still facing the corpse. His voice sounds hollow, empty. “Sometimes.”

“Did you… know this horse?” You ask hesitantly, looking down at the corpse.

“Yes,” Peter answers without hesitation. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice now.

“Ridden her before?”

“I don’t ride the horses,” Peter replies, “I just like to brush them.”

“Okay,” you acknowledge. You begin pacing around the stall in an attempt to calm your restless nerves. “Peter, were you here on the day that the veterinarian visited?” Jack had briefed you on the circumstances of the horse’s death, how a veterinarian had been called to investigate before the corpse was found in the womb.

“I don’t remember a veterinarian,” he stares ahead with a frown.

“That’s fine,” you answer. He may not have been there that day. “The veterinarian was the one who cut open the womb and found the corpse… Did you know this horse was pregnant?”

At that question, Peter turns around and stares at you. His hollow gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, he just stares at you, before huffing in amusement. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you echo. You suppose that was a rather dumb question on your part. “Were you… sad about the foal?”

“Of course,” Peter huffs again. “Why do you think I’m sitting here?” This discussion isn’t getting you very far.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. You take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’m going to give you my extension, and if you ever feel like talking about what happened, you can call me, okay?” Thankfully, you know for certain that Peter isn’t the killer—the psychological profile you built on this murderer tells you that much. Jack clearly doesn’t think Peter is the killer either, and those two facts are enough for you to rule him out as a suspect. However, you’re still contemplating the possibility of him tampering with the crime scene.

Peter clears his throat pointedly and you remember what you were supposed to be doing. You grab a notepad from your jacket pocket and quickly scrawl down the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s phone number, followed by the extension to your office phone. You take a step closer and hold it out to Peter. For a fraction of a moment, you think he won’t take it. Just before you can pull your hand back, he takes the paper and slips it into his pocket.

You turn on your heel and take a step towards the door of the stall, fully intent on leaving, when the door falls open of its own accord. Jack Crawford stands in the doorway, staring at you.

“Good, Agent,” Jack remarks. This must be important. “We have a lead,” he says vaguely, his eyes falling to Peter. You can’t discuss confidential information here—the details will have to wait until you’re both in the car.

“Excellent,” you remark in relief. “I’ll meet you at the car?” You can sense that Peter’s attention is piqued. Maybe you can still get something out of him. Jack nods and walks away once more. You then turn to Peter, who has turned his body away from the horse to face you. Somehow, he’s intrigued now. Something has caught his eye. “Sorry, Peter,” you apologize, taking a step backwards and emphasizing that you’re a moment away from leaving, “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, “Did you find him?”

“It’s classified, I’m sorry,” you respond, ignoring the inexplicable sound of alarm bells blaring in your head. Peter isn’t the killer. “But we’re tracking down this killer. I promise he’ll be put away.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, a dangerous conviction in his eyes.

“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise, but you do anyway. The sincerity in your expression must convince Peter, because he takes a slow breath and the tension seems to fade from his form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peter. It was nice to meet you.” Peter says the same and you turn to leave the stable.

“Price and Zeller found soil in the corpse’s throat,” Jack recounts to you as he drives along the highway, moving at a comfortable speed. His eyes are fixed on the road, but he recalls his conversation with Price with perfect consistency. “We traced it to a burial site about thirty minutes from here.”

“Great,” you remark, relief coursing through you. To your surprise, Jack doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply nods ever so slightly and continues staring ahead. Now, it seems as if he’s avoiding something. “What is it?” You ask. Something seems off about him.

“You may want to brace yourself,” Jack warns vaguely.

“Why?” You hear yourself question. Jack doesn’t answer, and he’s quiet for the rest of the car ride. When the two of you pull up to the supposed burial site, you’re filled with trepidation. This job always comes with the knowledge that blood and gore could be waiting at every corner. That’s the normal day for an agent. So… why does Jack feel the need to warn you? You grapple with the prospect as the two of you leave the car and join the group of agents circled around something.

It isn’t until you get closer that you recognize the familiar stench of rotting death. Sure enough, the group of agents is clustered around a hole in the ground—one that houses a woman’s corpse. You stare at the marks around her neck, the dirt caked under her nails and staining her fingertips. She was on the brink of death when she was buried. She was trying to escape. You stare down at the body for another moment, searching for any more abnormalities, before taking a step back to let the other agents resume their investigation. You exchange glances with Jack.

“She’s not the only one,” Jack says. You stare at the field around you—the grassy, open expanse. It seems to stretch on for miles now. You feel your heart steadily thudding in your chest, at a rate slightly faster than normal. Your head begins to ache.

“How many of them are there?” You murmur. The question is quiet, as you practically whisper it against the wind. For a moment, you think Jack doesn’t hear it. You then realize that he has comprehended it, but is simply declining to answer. Indeed, your boss stares out at the field with a conflicted expression. “Jack?”

“Sixteen,” Jack responds, turning his attention back to you. You feel something in your stomach twist and pull.

“That can’t be right,” you remark. It sounds as if the wind is picking up. It takes you several seconds to realize the sound is being conjured by your own mind, and that the air is damp and still around you. You swallow hard and take another look around at the field, suddenly understanding why the agents are now evenly dispersed across the space. They all have shovels and each sound of metal hitting dirt is enough to send a bolt of pain down your temple and through your cheekbones. Your teeth hurt as you watch the unearthing of sixteen different victims. They’re uniformly dispersed across the field. This is no happy accident—the killer meticulously planned for their graves to be close (but not too close). The thought brings a burning feeling to your throat and you feel your knees suddenly buckle. You place a hand on the ground, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of nausea climbing past your throat until you’re vomiting on the killer’s ground. It takes you a few minutes to stop, and even longer for you to fully recover. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if you’re going to cry or pass out. There’s an overwhelming clarity in your vision and a rhythmic pounding at your temple.

This graveyard is a gruesome display, even to someone who has spent their entire career surrounded by carnage. You’ve seen your fair share of murder victims. You’ve never seen sixteen of them lined up in two neat rows of eight, buried in a nondescript field under layers of muddy soil. Moreover, you can sense the killer’s feelings—and it makes you sick. This was not a gesture born out of respect for the victims. The murderer did not dig up these graves to give these women a final resting place; he buried them to trap them, so that even in death, they would never truly be free. Their existences would be tied to him forever. They would never be allowed to breathe again. It’s nothing short of sickening. There’s nausea stewing in your stomach again, revulsion prickling across your skin, and sweat trickling down your neck.

You can’t seem to push yourself up to your feet. You’re grounded to the damp soil, to the wrong side of the earth. What deems you worthy of living? What deemed these women worthy of dying? Your hands are twitching at your sides. A deep breath causes your chest to hitch and you nearly vomit again. You look down on your body as you claw at the grass and tear it up, shakily pulling at the dirt and plants and grass and rot and death and injustice and horrible, terrible guilt and indescribable anger and vengeance -

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You instinctually tense, your movements beginning to slow. It feels as if you’re suddenly catapulted back into your body, forced to inhabit the itchy, dirt-stained skin and the endless remorse that wants to eat you alive from the inside.

“They’re dead; there is nothing left for them here,” Jack says. It’s his strange way of comforting you. It sort of works. After a moment, he takes a step forward and extends a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up. Jack seems to be fighting against the urge to say or do something, because his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled taut in a thin line. There’s dirt all over you, yet you are still privileged with life.

You don’t remember how you get back to the Bureau. All you remember is staring blankly ahead as you’re half-led through the halls by Jack himself, his hand on your shoulder providing equal support and increased pressure. All you remember is the worry on Alana’s face as you walk past, the way she gets up from her desk and walks over to you, how she leads you towards the far restroom with a gentle hand. It ends up being the same restroom where Zeller accused you of killing Franklyn. The memory of that encounter is far fresher than you want it to be.

Alana leads you to a sink and guides your hands towards the water.

“Allow me,” she remarks, turning on the sink. She steps away for a moment and you stare at the water dripping from the faucet. Alana returns moments later with a washcloth. She pumps some soap on your hands and helps you wash them clean. Your head aches. You don’t know what to think, what to say. All you can think about is the graveyard. It haunts your vision every time you blink, forcing you to think of suffocating under piles of dirt and debris. You inhale sharply, gasping. Regaining your breath is a chore. “I’m worried about you,” Alana soon admits. You hate that her concern makes you feel appreciated. Your relationship with Alana ended years ago. You don’t want to be hers again, but this very moment reminds you of the intimacy you no longer get to see.

“You shouldn’t be,” you remark. Alana laughs under her breath. You both know that’s not how it works. Emotions don’t bend to logic.

“What did you see?” Her hand on your forearm keeps you tethered to reality. You shake your head, unable to begin describing the scene that will most certainly haunt your nightmares. The two of you are silent for the remainder of your time together under the flickering fluorescent lights, as you try to come to terms with the terrible regret, revulsion, and rage threatening to spill over your frame and inhabit your every waking moment.

next chapter

endnotes: thanks for reading! i'm very excited to continue this story, mwahhahahha

here's a lil sneak peek for the next chapter: “Peter,” Clark practically coos. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone before. He is a bundle of contradictions: a fine-dressed man with a fine-dressed smile and fine-dressed lies and cruelty and violence and- “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

hannibal taglist <3: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

#Hannibal Lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #transmasc reader #male reader #gn reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal x male reader #gotta cover all the bases

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mediocreanomaly · 10 months

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Vashwood x Reader Soulmate AU

Authors note: I eventually want to make this into an actual drabble but for now have the basics, that being said! I don’t know how the “your soulmate can feel your pain” au isn’t more popular in the Trigun fandom, think about all that untapped angst...

Other Parts Here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3 (Alt. End)

•When Rem first tells Vash about soulmates he has stars in his eyes. There's something comforting about the idea that the universe has already hand picked the perfect person for you

•That is until Rem continues by telling Vash how people find their soulmates

• “Rem? How do you know when someone is your soulmate?” “Well...like this!” Rem pinches Vash and Vash pouts, “what’d you do that for!”

•That’s when he learns pain is transferred between soulmates. Luckily, injuries where not, but feeling a broken bone seemed just as bad as having one to Vash. In fact Vash thought the whole thing was kinda...mean. He didn’t want to cause someone pain! Which meant for a few days the idea plagued his mind

•Until Knives is...well Knives.

• “Nai? Do you worry about hurting your soulmate?” “What are you talking about?” “You know, do you feel bad that you might hurt your soulmate?” “Vash soulmates are a human thing, when have you ever heard of a plant having a soulmate? Stop thinking about stuff like that” “oh...”

•To be fair, Nai did think he was helping his brother by consoling his worries but ironically it just makes Vash feel worse. Despite the guilt he felt about potentially hurting his soulmate, knowing he just straight up doesn’t have one stings a bit

•After that Vash just kinda...forgets about it. I mean obviously he knows soulmates exist and every once in awhile he might get slightly bummed but he knows it’s for the best, especially after the fall. He’s got too much on his plate so the whole concept just stays on the back burner

•Then we jump forward a couple years (a century lmao) Vash does not think he has a soulmate, as such he’s just as careless with his body as our normal Vash is. He’s missing his arm (thanks Knives) he’s still covered in scars and he has no issue taking bullets for random bystanders because that’s who he is, and unlike the humans he doesn’t have a soulmate so who cares? (oh honey you got a big storm comin)

•Then it happens, Vash is just doing his thing when a blinding pain runs through him. It feels like his veins are on fire, like he’s being torn apart and put back together. He has to hunker down in a shitty motel for awhile because it feels so bad

•Thing is Vash actually doesn’t put the pieces together for awhile. He’s gone this long without a soulmate so it doesn’t instantly click that he could be feeling someone elses pain, he just assumes everything he’s done on Gunsmoke the last century is finally catching up with him

•These pains keep coming back though, to the point where Vash eventually does go see Brad thinking this is either a “him neglecting his body” thing or a plant thing

•It’s neither. he’s a dumbass. Brad has to tell him it sounds like a soulmate thing considering he’s about as good in health as Vash can be. Vash argues the point for a little bit but the longer he thinks about it...

•Self lothing to the extreme. This man had purposely taken bullets, stabs, burns you name it to prevent others from getting hurt, but the whole time he’s been hurting someone?

•Here’s the thing though, obviously whoever he’s paired with has it rough too if the random blinding pains are anything to go by. Suddenly feeling like his body is being torn apart, feeling like he’s being pumped full of bullets, feeling like he’s being twisted like a rag doll, there's a weird sort of...comfort, in the fact that at least his soulmate is getting a bit of revenge on him, even if that’s not the intention

•Then he meets Wolfwood. Now no matter what variation of their meeting you’re going with I don’t think it would take very long at all for them to realize their soulmates. I mean have you seen these two? Whether it’s Vash feeling Wolfwood get hit by a car, Wolfwood feeling Vash slam into a wall, or one of them getting shot, they’ll have a moment of “no fucking way” soon enough

•Wolfwood...is mad. Mostly because Vash in a way made his life hell. Do you know what it’s like to be eight years old and feeling like you have a bullet in your side? To feel like you’ve just fallen off a roof? It’s brutal.

•Vash profusely apologizes (and cries) explaining to Wolfwood his situation. Wolfwood, after cooling down and getting bombarded by Vash’s puppy dog eyes, relents. Besides it’s not like he didn’t get his fair share of punches in, what the Eye of Michael did to him wasn’t exactly fun

•The two of them become alot closer alot faster, I mean their soulmates how could they not? It’s comforting to the two of them. One, here’s the person they know 100% will always have their back, something neither of them have had in a long time. Second, they are the only two who understand each others pain...literally. Wolfwood has felt every time Vash has sacrificed himself before others, Vash has felt the childhood that was ripped away from Wolfwood, they know each other on a level no one else can.

•That is until a year later. The two of them are in a relationship now, and they both try to be more mindful of the other. For example, Vash dives in front of less gunfire and Wolfwood doesn’t just tank whatever's coming at him. Although, they both recognize they have high pain tolerances, so when push comes to shove...they still get their fair share of wounds.

•One day they’re bickering at each other while setting up camp, nothing serious, it’s something stupid that they both don’t actually care about. Wolfwoods grumbling about something while he lays out sleeping bags and Vash remembers when Rem first taught him about soulmates and pinched his arm. With a shit eating grin...a plan forms

•Vash pinches his own arm. He’s a little shit when he wants to be and Wolfwood snaps his head up when he feels the sting on his arm and just like that...it’s on. Wolfwood reaches for his own arm and and pinches which...Vash returns with a another pinch

•They think it’s hilarious, the two of them pinching each other (themselves?) trading banter when suddenly...they feel a sharp pinch high on their arms, but...they’re looking at each other and neither of them did that.

•So they do it again as an experiment, this time they choose a specific spot on their arms so they know if they feel pain anywhere else, what they feel is real. They press down hard and again an annoyed pinch shoots through their shoulder.

•Now let’s get this straight, having more than one soulmate isn’t impossible, it’s just extremely rare. As for not realizing they had a third soulmate...well a normal person would have. You’ve gotten your fair share of injuries but you need to put it into context. When you wake up sore, when you stub your toe, when you jam your thumb in a door, the boys don’t really think anything of it. They wake up sore all the time, my foot hurts? probably from the recovering broken bone there. My face hurts? a bounty hunter pistol whipped me the other day of course it hurts.

•With this realization...Vash is in near hysterics. He turns to Wolfwood all teary eyed and rasp out “Nick...we’re torturing them”

•When it was the two of them they felt like they were even. Vash had his savior complex that ended with his scarred body, Nick had the Eye of Michael who rebuilt him, but you? Whoever you are you weren’t meant for this type of life. You who had been so carful to not get hurt that they hadn’t even known of you existence until right now

•The next few days will be a bit rough, they are both are pretty hard on themselves despite the fact it’s not really their fault. Vash will look like a kicked puppy replaying every time he’d gotten hurt in his head. Nick will retreat within himself, smoking alone a lot more and whatever he’s thinking about would be impossible to get out of him

•Once they realize self pity won’t help anyone they get themselves together and discuss how to handle the situation. It’s hard to find soulmates off of pain alone, it’s honestly a miracle that Vash and Wolfwood ended up finding each other

•But who knows? They travel a lot, their sure to bump into you eventually right?

•One thing is for sure, once they find you, once they meet you...they won’t let you go. In their eyes they’ve caused you a lifetime worth of pain already so once they get ahold of you it stands to reason that they’ll just have to give you enough pleasure to counter balance that...right?

#vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #vashwood x reader #vash x wolfwood x reader #soulmate au #vash x you #wolfwood x you

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