#I have been told I am - so good with words-

[egcdeath]

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one. 

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding. 

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course. 

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good. 

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business. 

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying. 

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds. 

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit. 

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.  

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch. 

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him. 

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined. 

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of. 

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted. 

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union. 

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning. 

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you. 

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings. 

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless. 

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling. 

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance. 

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision? 

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.  

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face. 

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back. 

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation. 

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased. 

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down. 

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him. 

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird. 

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit. 

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response. 

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear. 

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words. 

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of. 

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first. 

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet. 

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached. 

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch. 

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief. 

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified. 

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on. 

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in. 

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off. 

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there. 

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives. 

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away. 

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.  

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point. 

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug. 

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.” 

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way. 

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense. 

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.” 

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel. 

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage. 

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair. 

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.    

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events. 

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather. 

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship. 

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand. 

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink. 

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.  

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events. 

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.  

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago. 

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand. 

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name. 

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.  

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you. 

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend? 

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John. 

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag. 

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about. 

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder. 

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear. 

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now. 

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own. 

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference. 

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis. 

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump. 

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon. 

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically.  “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.” 

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.  

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no. 

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together. 

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig imagine #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #josh o'connor x reader

[a-b-riddle]

I'm just going to ask this because I need to get it out of my head. This is all in regards to your Poly141 x Reader series going on. I'm just going to recap things first.

-Price got verbally eviscerated because of all the times he got short/snapped at the reader because he came into their bookstore that they bought with their own money, put their own blood, sweat and tears into fixing up and had THE AUDACITY to call them immature for trying to break things off cleanly like a MATURE adult in a space that's RIGHTFULLY THEIRS because he couldn't be an adult admit how he shouldn't of been treating the reader like one of his men.

-Soap showing up trying to apologize and then thinking with his dick because of how the reader got dressed up for a dinner date and got a taste of his own medicine when the reader just hit it and quit it without so much as a thank you, or a goodbye kiss and basically told him to clean up, get dressed and kick rocks.

-Gaz shows up after weeks of just flaking out of any dates and just being a ghost (ironic considering Ghost's callsign) trying to talk to the reader in person when the reader had tried for months to just get a glimpse of him only to be told he couldn't right now but could another time. Then the reader just tell him, 'yeah sorry no. I don't have time for you and your mates nonsense at the moment, just swing by to get your stuff when it works for you'.

-Ghost showing up whenever the reader is in trouble and getting them away from danger only to disappear shortly afterward and give the reader radio silence. The one time that the reader tried to seek him out for just a SHRED of comfort and he just told them, 'You're only good for what's in between your legs love, you knew what you were getting into. You should've known better.'

With all this mind, I want Ghost to have everything and the kitchen sink thrown at him. I want him to be told in no kind words that his words and lack of realizing how fucked up the things he said to the reader were was the straw that broke the camel's back. I want the reader to hurl everything that they didn't say to Price to Ghost. I want him to realize in no unclear terms how if he didn't fuck up so royally and had actually attempted to give the reader a fraction of what he was being given, things would be so much better. And for some extra salt on the wound, have the reader tell him that they suppose that when it comes to his line of work, he's pretty good at breaking anything and everything he touches. It's just a shame that for anything that involves a softer touch, he winds up breaking it beyond repair.

I just love narrative/reflective irony and can't wait for the next part and wish you well for making it to the end of this ramble. 🥰

I'm throwing up.

I am so happy that y'all got it without me having to say it. YES! She is giving everything back that they gave her. John's outbursts, Johnny's lack of aftercare and Kyle's flakiness.

I will say this which I think is interesting. Simon said something hellllla shitty and unforgivable. Like it was mean and something once you say you can't take back. I will ask this and feel free to go back and re-read.

What else did Simon do? Before the phone call, what else did Simon do to reader? We know Simon wanted to hurt reader. Why? Did he plan

Spoiler below, read at own caution

Or was he just sick of being the only one out of the four guys to actually contribute to the relationship and knew he needed to be the one to drive it home that there isn't a future with them? Reader refers to Simon several times as her body guard or guard dog... But never a boyfriend or partner.

In flashbacks, we see that Simon only ever came over at night. You'll find out why in the next few chapters, but as much as I love y'all hating on Simon, I cannot WAIT for y'all to get to the why.

And remember kiddos, hurt people hurt people.

[written-in-flowers]

His Student: Demon!Yeosang x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubus!Yeosang x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairing: demonline x reader

Word Count: 11k

Genre: smut (lots), angst MINORS DNI

Summary: YN's animosity with Yeosang reaches a head after a cruel prank. Will the teacher be taught new things by his insolent student?

Tags: enemies to FWB, master/salve dynamic, enslavement, mentions of domestic abuse, sex fighting, sex wrestling, degradation, name calling, nipple play, breast play, breast slapping, spanking, humiliation, light cock and ball pain, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough oral sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, slight blood play, tickling, tickling feet, self-lubrication, tit fucking, thigh fucking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, gangbang, cream pie (massive), belly bulging (slight), hate fucking, fight fucking,

@pirateeznet

Previously on Pretty Pet | > Next

***

Sunrises. Chittering birds. The warmth of a lover. The smell of a hot breakfast or dark coffee. There were many things you’d rather wake up to aside from the pallid, stern face of your handler, Yeosang. Blinking your eyes open, you let out a soft groan seeing him on the side of the bed. You wondered how long the weirdo had been watching you, since he said nothing to you. It unnerved you. You rolled on your side to turn your back on him. Could he not see you're recovering from San?

Two months of living with your new masters was exhausting, if nothing else. Being San’s housewife proved more difficult than expected. Lots of travels into the city, buying ingredients for dinners you don't make, having clothes he tore apart mended, and pretending to tidy up a house that is already clean was a lot. Hongjoong remained undecided about his “schedule”, so it changed regularly: you’d either be enduring sex training by him or one of the servants, sitting in a cage with kitten ears waiting for him, or whatever he felt like assigning for the day. Interchange that with lessons with Yeosang, who was not the most understanding or gentle of teachers. He was critical, bossy, and demanding. If you missed a note, he made you play the piece again. If your voice cracked on a high pitch, he rolled his eyes and told you to sing again. According to him, musical talents should come easily to someone, and you kept proving him wrong. 

“You’ve been in bed long enough,” you heard him say. “Time to get up. You’re going to miss your lessons.”

You’d never, ever, ever tell anyone how much you’d enjoyed taunting him that first day. Seeing the strict, austere demon crumble in your hand gave you a sense of triumph. It felt good getting back at him in the best way. 

“Boo-hoo,” you grumbled into your pillow. The toll the previous night took on your body showed in your sore muscles. Thankfully, the creams helped with the tender areas. “I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick.”

“Yes I am,” you gave several coughs, “See?”

“You can’t get sick in Hell, idiot,” he scolded. “You’re already dead. You only get sick if someone curses you with pestilence, which you’re tempting me with if you don’t get up right now.”

“Do it, Demon Boy,” you challenged. “Then you can tell Master Seonghwa why he can’t have sex with me tonight.”

Brown eyes rimmed with crimson glared at you. For a second, you saw him considering it before his loyalty to Seonghwa won over. 

“You were permitted to miss breakfast with Master Seonghwa, but you aren’t missing your lessons. The Masters are at work, Jongho is on his way to start your morning routine, and I have to prepare us for the day. Get up.”

“What if I don’t?” you shot at him. 

“I’ll have Mingi throw cold water on you and drag you out of that bed,” he threatened. “Then, you can walk around cold, naked and wet.”

“Bet you’d love that, huh?”

He didn’t answer you, but instead turned on his heel and left. Rolling onto your back again, you soaked yourself in San’s bed. The youngest brother worked you particularly hard the previous night. He’d gotten particularly worked up from his day at the arena, so in usual fashion, he came home half naked and harder than a rock. It started in the living room, where he tore at your dress and panties before taking you in the hallway towards the bedroom. Heated passion drove the both of you last night. You simply couldn't get enough of one another. You knew you'd have a similar night with Seonghwa, if he wished.  

“Morning, sunshine!” Jongho poofed into existence as you slipped off the bed, holding the thin chemise he always put over you. “How’re you feeling? I heard Master San was pretty wild last night.”

“It was nothing unexpected,” you answered, sliding on the chemise. “That cream you made helped with the bruises.”

“Master San can get a bit rough when he’s in the heat of things,” he said, “So I knew you’d need it. I’ll bring you some tea while you’re bathing.”

“Thanks, Jongho.”

He let you walk into the bathroom alone while he disappeared to the kitchen. It took several minutes of convincing and reassuring your handlers that you can bathe yourself. You told them you weren’t a baby who couldn’t wash herself. Not that you hadn’t minded the extra-close attention, but the bathtub seemed the only place nobody disturbed you. Sliding into the water, you added a few drops of bath bubbles and watched them form in your hands. The calming scents wafted up from the surface, which you inhaled deeply. Bath time was always the best time. Wiping the cloth over your skin, you let yourself soak in the relaxing warmth. 

You’d grown to enjoy your life in the Black Keep. It was extremely more preferable than the House of Kisses. During San’s days, walking through the streets in your casual dresses and heels, you’d pass the brothel district to see the other slaves. You pitied their situation, even if Mingi insisted they deserved and chose this fate. He didn’t understand the reality of the circles. It’d been one of the realizations you made about the high-borns: they don’t visit the circles. Those places are for the damned to endure, not the demons. The farthest they’d gone, you’ve assumed, was to their different workplaces. You’d explained to Mingi that a life of servitude was more appealing than suffering a brutal punishment. Yes, they lived in poverty, subjected to vile sexual acts every night, and abused by their “owners”, but better than the circles. Much better. You in particular were especially lucky. 

“Fucking pet…” 

She’d been a skinny, unwashed thing. You’d walked back through the district from the merchants’ street when you came across her. Her body wrapped in a sheet of muslin fabric, the young woman stood outside a brothel peddling herself to passersby. You knew from experience that being put out was a form of punishment. They’d work, eat and sleep outside the brothel rather than in the comfort of the inside. She’d seen your fancy dress and lace collar, and glared at you. You couldn’t help glaring back. It’s not as if you asked to become their pet. It was fate. You don’t even know if they bought you legally. San only slit Rufus’s throat and they took you as theirs. 

“Are you planning on marinating in there like a chicken or are you going to get out? We’re on a schedule that you’re already late for.”

Where you’d expected Jongho, you received Yeosang instead. You huffed in annoyance, “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, preparing for the lesson? You know, tuning the piano or the cello or finding the right books to put my nose into?” 

“I already did,” he said stone-faced. He walked over to the shelf of toiletries and towels, grabbing one of them for you. “Sorry that I don’t dawdle. Unlike you, I understand schedules and adhere to them.”

“It’s not the end of the world if I don’t show up on time.” 

He came to the tub, extending the towel to embrace you. “Out. Now.”

You grumbled, standing from the comforting water into the cold air. He wrapped you in the towel, and began drying your body. “I can dry myself, you know.”

“I do,” he said, starting at your feet and working to your knees, then your hips. “But I have a job to do and I do it.”

As he dried you, you noticed he caressed certain spots. At first, you thought he was being careful with the areas San spanked in his heated moment. Yet, you couldn’t help seeing the heavy lidded eyes and longing stares. You rolled your eyes. He lingered over marks San left on parts of your body. Absent-mindedly, he traced the light bruising he found with delicate fingers regardless of location. His cold digits left goosebumps on your skin. 

“I thought we were on a tight schedule, Yeosang,” you interrupted his admiration. 

He coughed awkwardly, “Yes, we are.”

He hurriedly dried the rest of you, put you in your chemise again, then took you to your dressing room. Wooyoung stood there waiting with a Seonghwa-approved dress: a wrap-around pale pink dress with flowers painted onto the hems. Your hair done into a braid, he tied a matching ribbon to the end of it. In the mirror, you saw the angelic, innocent virgin Seonghwa wanted. You also spotted Yeosang looking at you in the mirror. The same lust-filled stare gazed over your body, no doubt undressing you piece-by-piece again. You ignored him, and walked out of the room first. 

“Morning, Mingi,” you said to your bodyguard who stood outside your doors. 

“Morning, YN,” he replied, nodding as you passed by him. “Have fun last night?”

“Loads,” you grinned. “Have fun listening to it?”

“You know I did.” You sensed him watching the ends of your dress swishing in each stride, and stifled a laugh. “You’re a demon’s weakness, you know that?”

“It’s becoming more obvious by the day.” 

Yeosang came into step with you, then walked ahead. You shook your head at him. Seeing his straight strides, his proper posture and head tilt, Yeosang showed his superiority even while walking. Even with his status as a “servant”, he thought himself above everyone around him. Mingi claimed they are half-brothers, sons of Satan, the Prince of Wrath. It explained Yeosang’s quickness of anger, even if subdued by his sophisticated manner. If he is so important, why was he content with servitude and not having his own lands?

“You’re a son of Satan, right?” you asked him from behind. 

“A grandson.”

“Then how come you don’t have your own lands like The Masters?”

“I’m not part of the direct bloodline,” he said stiffly. “I am a son-of-son. Only those with direct relation get the finer things.” 

“That still makes you his blood though. You’re his grandson.”

“And not directly from him. Direct bloodline implies it is someone right after him like Master Seonghwa, Asmodeus’s son from the 18th generation.”

“19th?”

“Those demons born between 1701 to 1800 obviously,” he said over his shoulder. “We won’t be covering the 18th generation for a while. We're still covering the 12th generation.”

“The medieval period, I know.”

“The High Middle Ages, YN.”

“Well, what generation are you, Mr. Know-It-All?”

“20th,” he said. “I was born in 1904. My mother was a demon of wrath and my father, Satan, took a liking to her. She was his mistress for many years. Same for Mingi’s mother. The Princes don’t take ‘wives’, if you couldn’t tell on your own.”

“What generations are Masters Hongjoong and San?”

“Master Hongjoong is from the 18th generation as well; he was born in 1755, while Master Seonghwa was born in 1754,” he said. “Master San is the youngest in the 20th generation, being born in 1910” 

“I guess I’d be a 20th generation, if I was a demon?”

“Yes.”

“Which would make you older than me?”

“Psh, I’m much, much older than you, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you. You’re generally disagreeable and insolent to anyone regardless of age.”

“No, Yeosang, I’m only disagreeable to you.”

He opened the doors to Seonghwa’s apartment without retort. You liked shutting him up even if briefly. Mingi stayed by the doors while you followed Yeosang into the music room. You’d missed the cello lesson according to the clock on the wall, so he took you over to the piano next. Sitting beside him on the bench, you watched him open the music book on the stand for you to read. 

“Let’s start with Chopin today,” he said, turning the page to one of the compositions. “He truly is one of the greats. Small children are able to play this, so let’s see just how much better a seven-year-old would be compared to your mediocrity.”

You wanted to kick him under the bench. It made you want to prove him wrong. You paid close attention to each note he played and repeated them back. He kept a distasteful expression every time you matched his notes. You remembered bits and pieces from those piano lessons your mother’s friend gave you. Mama hoped you’d become a famous musician one day; she said you had the talent if you practiced hard enough. Eight-year-old YN wanted to make her happy, and playing the piano and singing did that. That is, until He broke the small electric piano she’d saved up for your birthday. 

‘Nobody wants to listen to that shit!’ he’d shout, kicking it aside before sitting down. 

You never played again. 

“Well, I suppose you aren’t entirely useless after all,” Yeosang said when the lesson ended. You’d played the song perfectly, and you knew it bothered him. “Master Seonghwa will be pleased when he hears you after dinner. Try to remember it between now and then.” 

He stood up from the bench, and you stayed behind. You heard him gathering books in the next room, but you let your fingers trace the black keys. A melody came to you in particular. ‘Johnny Angel, Johnny Angel, Johnny Angel…You’re an angel to me.’ She always sang while she cleaned, even if under her breath. Her voice became your welcoming jingle. It was how you knew she was home. You'd learned how to play it by listening to the tune enough and working on it secretly in your room. Her face had lit up when you played it for her on her birthday. 

You missed her smile. 

“What song is that?” Yeosang’s voice cut through your memory. It irritated you. Are you not allowed even a few minutes to yourself? “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a song from home,” you answered. “You wouldn’t care.”

‘You’ve got natural born talent, baby girl.’

“Ugh, you humans are so sentimental. It’s-”

“-Fuck you, demon-boy,” you snapped over your shoulder, fingers slamming down the keys in emphasis. “Not everyone had parents who didn’t give a shit about them.” 

“I’d rather have no parents than one who smacked me around,” he remarked. “Come on, Master Seonghwa will be here soon and he’ll be cross if he sees you all weepy like that.”

You heard him leave, and anger boiled in your veins. It angered you because he was right. You would’ve rather not had a father than the one you lived with. 

“YN!” 

Leaving the bench, you walked through the apartment to the dining room. They’d already put down the fine china and utensils for lunch. You pushed your father from your head as you sat down. Putting the cloth napkin on your lap, you wondered what you’d be having for lunch. Mama used to make peanut butter and jelly, with fruit and juice on the side. She’d put a cookie and a note inside for you. She loved you, and you treated her so terribly. You remembered purposefully leaving the bag in your locker so your friends didn’t ridicule you. Having loving parents amongst your friends was embarrassing, even though now you wished you hadn’t cared. 

“YN? Yeosang?”

Yunho appeared in a puff of smoke, in his usual servant attire. “Morning, Yunho,” you said politely. 

“Sir,” Yeosang bowed. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve come to inform YN that Master Seonghwa won’t be coming home for lunch,” he said. “He has a lunch meeting with his superiors, so he can’t stop by. You’ll be dining alone today. He sends his deepest apologies and hopes you enjoy lunch.” 

“That’s fine,” you said. “I understand. Thank you, Yunho.”

He nodded, disappearing once again. You sighed softly to yourself. Finally, a moment of peace. When the servant brought the first course, you thought you might scream. 

‘Sorry, Kitten. I hope you enjoy your day. I’ll see you tonight.’

The pink post-it note was attached to the tray cover. Inside, you found apple slices and a cup of caramel sauce. Mama added caramel because she knew how much you liked it with the apples. It was cruel. It was a sick joke. Seonghwa must have read your mind or learned or guessed and thought it’d be funny to taunt you. To spite your master, you ate them. He likely expected you to storm out and not eat for the day. You'd prove him wrong. You'd show him. You can be strong. You've been strong and tough your whole life. 

Main course hurt equally: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with barbecue chips. Your favorite brand specifically. Tears blurred your vision, but you held them back. You could feel Yeosang a few feet away; you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You ate the sandwich with a dry mouth. 

“You must be thirsty,” said Yeosang. “Here.”

A juice box. The cartoon apple beamed at you delightfully, the brand name over their head and another apple in their hands. Yeosang stuck the tiny plastic straw in the box for you and put it where your wine glass usually sat. It became apparent whose idea this had been.

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

He only laughed, walking away and back to his corner. You drank it anyway. It reminded you of the time fourteen-year-old YN brought lunch on her first day of high school. The kids, dressed in the popular fashion of the time, laughed when they saw the ham and cheese sandwich and loving note. You’d never felt more embarrassed than that moment. Was that when you stopped loving her? Or was it when she called you ‘sugar bear’ in front of your friends? Or when she wore a t-shirt with your face on it for your birthday? Your throat clogged up with sadness, and you stopped eating. She loved you and you were embarrassed by her. 

Dessert? Chocolate chip cookies. Her chocolate chip cookies. You knew by the texture and misshapen outlines. In a fit of rage, you grabbed the plate and tossed it across the table. The expensive plate bounced off the edge and shattered on the wooden floors. You glared at Yeosang, who’d gotten a kick out of your reaction. 

“What’s the matter, YN? You don’t like cookies?” 

The juice box in hand, you hurled it at him. The distance was quite impressive, and the stain it’d leave pleased you. Yeosang gave you a shocked expression that turned sour quickly. You threw your napkin onto the ground and stormed towards the doors. They slammed closed the second you reached the threshold. They might have hit you if you’d taken another step. 

“Where do you think you’re going, slut?” Yeosang growled, fire in his voice. 

Anger normally burns like hot coals in one's belly. It scorches everything in its path through the blinding red rage. Yet, that rarely happened to you. Your rage stung. A real, hateful, borderline murderous rage pinched your nerves, and flowed through your chest like a bad heartburn. A biting pain started in your chest and rushed to your hands and your feet. This wrath never daunted your anger. It seemed to add it. 

“Away from you!”

The doors suddenly burst back open again, wood cracking the edges and a door knob flying off. You breathed deeply, fighting back the caustic acid in your throat.  You charged through to the front doors, pushing them open with force. The sudden burst startled a quiet Mingi, who sprung into action right away. 

“YN, what’s going on?” 

You didn’t answer him. Immediately, the Black Keep felt suffocating. The elegant white walls and carpeted floors smothered any air in your body. The sun glowing through the tall windows felt hotter on your skin. For the first time since you arrived, you resented this stupid house. This pretentious, obnoxiously wealthy home for horny demons. It sickened you. Mingi’s deep voice called after you, echoing in the high ceilings, but you kept moving. You never explored the mansion yourself because you’re so confined to your “schedules”. Fuck schedules. Fuck rules. Fuck everything. Fuck your snobby, self-serving bastard masters. 

You found your way outside after several turns and staircases. Glass doors led to a grand staircase down into the vast gardens of the Black Keep. Outside, you finally found a refuge to make your own. The faint sweet scent of flowers and fresh air filled your lungs and cooled your hot skin. Everything felt electric. A growl came through your throat that you didn’t think possible. In the seclusion of a maze, the scathing pains cooled down with each breath. Hot tears finally spilled from your eyes. You wished they’d killed you that night or sent you back to your brothel. That way you wouldn’t be wishing to see her again. 

Finally, you found yourself in an enclosed space. Gravel covered the walkway in and around the fountain and benches. The fountain, you saw, was three tiers of water and flowers spiraling and blooming from the top. Flowers in various shades of pink and white grew from the green leaves and vines. You plopped down on one of the benches and stared at it. Briefly, you thought about her again. She loved flowers. She claimed your father once liked them too; he owned a florist shop in town, but you found that hard to swallow. Flowers are delicate; he was anything but that. Your masters are exactly the same. They hide behind their pretty belongings and silly aesthetics. They dazzled you with good sex and pretty things to pacify you. Just like your bosses. Just like every other man in your life. 

But you turned their games back on them. You used them like how they used you. You stepped on them to reach the top. You’d been a college drop-out with no references or experience in anything. Jobs weren’t hard to find, but good paying ones were. A pretty girl working in an office full of men, you knew what you had to do. You destroyed long-standing careers, marriages, familial relationships and friendships to get what you wanted. No man or woman could say no to you. Your beauty rendered them powerless. A flash of a smile, a touch of a hand and a suggestion pulled them into you like fish on hooks. You heard the whispers around the office. You knew what people said behind your back. 

“YN’s a maneater.” 

“She’s a snake in the grass.” 

“A viper with pretty teeth.” 

“Who exactly do you think you are?” Yeosang came into the space, and you didn’t look at him. “Hello? Answer me, slut.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You lost that-”

“-I said leave me alone, slave,” you let the insult drip from your voice. 

“You don’t get to be alone anymore. You lost that-”

“-And I’m taking it back!” You fisted a few pebbles from the ground and launched them at his shiny, black shoes. “Go away! Now!”

Yeosang growled deep in his chest and charged at you. The moment he gripped your wrist, you slammed your fist into the center of his face. Your knuckles burned, but it felt worth it to see his nose bleed. The two of you scowled and snarled at one another. Like two animals in a cage, you clashed at once. Yeosang punched your cheek hard, bringing a stinging you’d grown used to right away. You wrestled him to the ground, something you didn’t know how to do but did it anyway. Dirt and gravel shifted as the two of you slapped, punched and kicked one another. You saw the red in Yeosang’s eyes fill them completely, dark and angry as he bared sharp fangs. The brief second let you slam your fist into his jaw. His body felt hard and hot against yours even under all the layers. You could tell he had a similar build to Mingi, albeit smaller and shorter. Grabbing at his arms, the hard muscles flexed under your hands. When your body collided with his, you took in the slight, strong frame. He'd be fuckable if you didn't hate him. The two of you paused for a moment, both of you panting heavily and bleeding. You stared up into his face, seeing his wide eyes and soft lips. He gazed down your own face as if really taking you in. Then Yeosang ripped the ties keeping your dress closed. 

“Fucking slum slut,” he grunted through his teeth, tearing the fabric with his sharp nails, “You think you have power here? You think you’re something special? Think again.”

“Like you’re any better!” you hit his kidney area, and rolled him over. You tore at his clean, white shirt. The buttons popped off when you opened it to reveal his smooth, chiseled chest and abdomen. Grinding your hips, you pinched and rubbed his nipples. “Look at you,” you growled, rolling his nipples while moving your hips, “You’re just as slutty as me. All of you are.”

“Fuck you!”

He slashed at your cheek and pushed you off him. Falling onto your back, you knelt upright as he went for you. His body flung in reverse, he pushed you onto your back and grabbed at your panties. You kicked your legs and bucked your hips as the arousal built up in your lower region. The sound of tearing fabric, and the cool air brushing your sex made it clear. He'd torn them off. You grabbed at his black hair, pulling at it while he resisted. Burying his face in your crotch, he wildly licked and sucked your clit. You didn’t dare let out the noises in your throat. His tongue slipped and slid over your hard clit. Two could play that game. Roughly removing his belt and unzipping him, you spat on his semi-hardon and stuck it in your mouth. The two of you laid on your sides, each one trying to coax a single moan from the other and resisting. 

“Fucking whore,” he seethed, rapidly rubbing your clit, “You never say no to dick, do you?”

You nearly ripped off his pants when you broke out of his grip. Dick hard and red, it pulsed in your hand as you grabbed his balls underneath. “And you don’t say no to my mouth,” you shot back, spitting on him more and wetting his delicious cock. “You act like you’re better than me, but I see how you look at me. You want to fuck the shit out of me every minute of the day.” You tugged at his ballsack, earning a loud hiss, “My pussy dripping in your mouth…My ass gripping your tiny cock.”

“It’s not tiny!” 

It really wasn’t, but you’d never tell him that. He rolled you onto the ground, straddling your hips and roughly tugging on your bra. Your tits filling his hands, he squeezed them as he placed harsh kisses on your neck. His dick, throbbing and wet, pressed right to your sex. You reached down to him, and continued stroking him while he bit and sucked your nipples. Heavy breathing, grunting and groaning came between you. You hungered for him. You hated that your body betrayed you so easily; it gave him a power you never gave up to anyone. His expert tongue teased the tips of your nipples, sucking the pebbles until they grew harder. His large cock leaking into your hand, so close to your sex, you thought you might go insane with need. 

You shoved him off you and started humping him. Focusing on your pussy rubbing the head, you smirked in pleasure at his whimpering. Yet, he refused to show any arousal.  Yeosang kept squeezing your tits, which sent you into a new whirl of pleasure. 

“Slut,” he slapped your breast hard, “Slut, slut, slut.” 

He emphasized each word with a slap to your tits, which had you pinning down his knees. You saw his dick standing straight up, and you smacked it hard. It wagged in the air, and you heard Yeosang give a painful hiss. 

“Slave, slave, slave,” you mocked him, slapping his dick and balls. You knew he liked it by how he grew even harder. “You’re a bigger whore than me. Each of you,” you lifted his dick to slap his testicles and make him jerk. “All of you are a bunch of whores. I only have to flash you and you all drool like fucking dogs.” You stroked him while smacking his balls, the combination of pleasure and pain making him leak in your hand. 

“Don’t make me laugh!”

He grabbed your hair and pulled you over again. His dick slipped into your throat, choking your airway with his girth. “We only have to touch you a little bit, and you get soaked! Look at you now,” he shoved himself in and out of your mouth, “Taking my dick like a champ as your little cunt gets wet for me. You slum sluts love cock. You crave dick all day.”

You started sucking him earnestly, humming around him in your throat and grabbing his pert ass cheeks. Yeosang groaned when you forced a finger into his asshole, the move making him fuck your throat faster. Snug walls sucked your finger further inside him, pulsing at this new intrusion. You felt his hole growing wetter, but not with what you expected. What appeared to be a thin, clear cum worked as a lube. Self-lubricating. You never found anything hotter. Yeosang grew louder, moaning against your pussy and pushing into your throat.

 “Going to make you my cum dump,” he said, eyes closed, “I’m going to make you swallow my whole load. You’d fucking love that.”

Sinking two fingers into you, you grabbed his arm and pushed him onto the ground. You continued sucking him off, straddling his head, and forcing his knees apart. Yeosang groaned and panted loudly as you fingered and sucked him. He hooked his arms around your thighs, and pulled your pussy onto his mouth. Neither of you spat any more insults. You’d make Yeosang cum like that whore he truly is. You’d get one over on him with your throat and fingers. Reaching deep inside, you found the spongy parts of his prostate. He moaned loudly on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub and sucking on it obscenely. His walls tightened around your fingers, and you matched your fingers' pace with your mouth. You grinded against his tongue, whimpering when it slipped inside you. He slapped your ass much harder than San ever could. You dug your nails into the fleshy part of his inner thigh before dragging them down. He bit the inside of your thigh. You smacked his balls hard. A primal hunger came out of each of you. Your body wished to give in, but your mind didn't let you. You tasted him leaking into your mouth, which you used to spit into your hand and shove back into his ass. 

“Too bad I don’t have a dildo to fill this pretty hole,” you taunted him, “Whores like being fucked in their ass.”

“You would know,” he said, mouth full of pussy. He grabbed your hair, holding you in place as he pushed up into your mouth. “You’d fucking know, wouldn’t you, bitch?”

You kept his legs open as you fingered him faster, spit making it easier to slide in and out. He was practically riding your hand after a time, and you started riding his long tongue. You wouldn’t cum first, even if the sensation started building behind your clit. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Cum for me, bitch,” he smacked your ass with both hands, “Cum like the fucking whore you are.”

“You first, asshole,” you used your hand to smack his balls while you throated him again. 

His tongue reached up to your g-spot, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. You heard his moans grow louder, much like when you’d given him the handjob. The slick sounds of his wet cock and hole being used nearly sent you over the edge. The moment you taste thick salty cum, you begin sucking him harder and fingering him deeper. Once your thighs trembled, Yeosang kept the same pace and forced you to his face. It was too close to tell, but you both came. His cock stifled your feral groans and your pussy muffled his high moans. You hated to admit he tasted so damn good. You stroked and sucked each drop, loving the slightly sweet taste in the process. 

When you both finally came down, you moved away from him and wiped your mouth and fingers on the end of his coat. He did the same with your dress, the wetness clear against the cotton fabric. 

“Just couldn’t get through lunch without some dick, huh?” he spat with a smirk. “You slum sluts are unbelievable.”

“You didn’t complain when I was finger fucking your ass.”

“And you didn’t when I came down your throat. Cock-hungry, cum-eating skank.”

“Not as bad as being a desperate, small-dicked prick.” 

He spat in your direction, and stood up. “Get cleaned up and come to the library. We’re not done with your lessons today.”

You didn’t dare flop down into the ground. On jelly-legs, you used the fountain water to clean your hands and mouth before following him through the garden. Neither of you said anything on the way back to the library. Mingi spotted your limping and torn dress, and glared at Yeosang. 

“What did you do?” he said, hands clenching at his sides. “The Masters will whip you for this.”

“I didn’t put it in her,” Yeosang said, walking past him without stopping. “I know her cunt is theirs even though it should be everyone’s with how horny she is all the time.”

Mingi’s glare diminished when he saw you. Removing his jacket, he put it over your shoulders and buttoned it to cover your body. “Are you okay?” he touched your tender cheek, pulling away when you winced. “They’ll put him on the whipping post for this.”

“I’m fine, Mingi,” you assured him. “It was just a bit…rough, that’s all.” He tried hiding the intrigue in his eyes, but you caught it and stepped closer to him. “You know I like things a bit rough,” you said in a whisper, “Especially rough enough to make me cry.”

“I should’ve gone with you then,” he said, wiping underneath your lip. “I’d give you something to really cry about.”

“Sounds like fun.” 

You brushed yourself against his crotch as you turned in his arms and walked into the room. They make it so easy. It was amusing. Finding Yeosang in the library, you saw he’d pulled out several leather books. By their worn out spines and the corners, you guessed they must be several centuries old. The one scroll he’d taken out seemed delicate and frail as he carefully unrolled it on the table. 

“Lose the jacket,” Yeosang ordered, “If you insist on acting like a whore, Master Seonghwa should see it when he returns home.”

Rather than argue, you removed the jacket. 

And the dress. 

And your bra. 

In nothing but your heels, you sat in front of him and took one of the copies on the table. “What’s first in the curriculum?” you asked, pretending as if you sitting naked was entirely normal. 

“Oh, so you do know words with more than two syllables,” he said, acting surprised. “Look at you, little scholar.” He took his own copy of a book titled ‘Literature of the Kings: A Collection of the Middle Ages. “We’ll start today with writings from the high middle ages. Master Seonghwa likes to talk about them, so try and keep up. Maybe you'll actually remember the time period.”

“The middle ages are all the same to me.”

While you both went over the first collection of old writing, you knew Yeosang kept looking at your body. You liked the attention and obvious struggle he faced. As he told you about something called The Cranberry Tales or whatever, you stretched to show off your chest to him. He’d finished with you in the garden, but here he was struggling to focus on his lesson plan. You wanted him to admit he was hornier than you and his masters combined. The men you used in the previous life liked to think themselves superior to everyone; they acted like the titans in their fields. You knocked them down a few notches with your pussy. It felt particularly good with men who acted above you, the secretary or office manager. Once you sat on them, they crumbled like broken cookies. 

Yeosang made it through the literature lesson, and you moved to History and Geography of Inferno. The map on the table detailed the various circles, inner and outer rims. Each part in different colors, it depicted which territory belonged to which prince. You'd seen the map before, since he brought it out every lesson. Seonghwa and Yeosang believed if you lived in Inferno, or Hell as other people know it, you should know its lands. You decided to stand on his side of the table, hands on the edge as you moved in front of him. 

“Where are we on here?” you asked, rolling your hips into his groin casually. 

“In Prince Asmodeus’s domain, as I've told you before,” he pushed right back into you, arms going through yours to point to the light red space on the map. One hand casually grabbing your breast, he continued, “Everything from this end of the circle to this end is his. The whirling winds where you came from are on this side away from the main city. I understand why you were put there now…” he pressed his lips to your ear as he pinched your nipple, “You just had dick and now you want more. I guess you like my ‘tiny dick’.”

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re the one pushing your dick into my ass.”

“Because you make it so readily available to me.”

“Like you wouldn’t take it if I didn’t dangle it in front of you like a dog wanting a treat.”

“I’d fuck you like the bitch you are.”

“The only bitch is you.”

You squeaked when a hand smacked across your ass again. He went back to explaining the areas of the map, where the inner cities were and which families lived in them. When he demanded you repeat the information back to him, he cupped both your breasts and squeezed them. It only mildly distracted you. As you described every prince and their heirs, Yeosang nibbled at your neck and slipped his hand between your legs. Your pussy, still wet from the garden, felt sensitive to his touches. 

“-And this is our family,” you pointed to the serpents around the thorny rose, “Master Seonghwa is the heir to the land, with Master Hongjoong and Master San right after him-”

“-Yes, I am the heir of this land.”

Yeosang and you jumped apart when Seonghwa stood in the doorway. Removing his tie, his dark eyes glinting with interest. “And the heir wishes to know why his Kitten is naked and grinding into his loyal servant?” 

“I was hot,” you said, standing straight and killing the desires inside you. 

“Very,” Seonghwa said, eyes gazing up your body. He stopped and gasped when he saw your split bottom lip. “Kitten, what happened?” He went straight to you, cupping your face to see it more closely. “Oh, Kitten…Yeosang, what-Wait, what happened to your face?” 

The redness on the bridge of his nose stood out against his porcelain skin, and so did the welt on his cheek. Even though he'd tried fixing himself up, he hadn't done a supreme job. 

“Did you two have a fist fight?” he asked him.

“Yes, Master,” Yeosang admitted. “She was being disobedient and having a temper tantrum.”

“After you pulled a mean prank on me at lunch.”

“You humans are so damn sensitive,” he remarked. “It was only a joke. It's not my fault you can’t take a joke.”

“Nobody was laughing but you-”

“-Enough,” Seonghwa intervened, “You two argue like children.” He straightened his jacket as he said, “And you decided to fight? Where? In the dining room?” 

“No,” you answered. 

“Then who blew the dining room doors?”

“Yeosang!”

“What?! It wasn’t me! It was you!”

“I’m a human. I couldn’t have.”

“You did it somehow!” He snapped. “You slammed them open or pushed them hard to frame me.”

“Shut it,” Seonghwa snapped. “Where did you do it?”

“In the garden,” you said. 

“She’d stormed away from me when I told her not to,” Yeosang explained quickly. “I only followed her to bring her back into the house.”

“And instead of bringing her back you decided to hate fuck her again?” he asked, hands on hips. “Yeah, I can smell it on both of you. What did you do?”

“Hit each other,” you answered. 

“I mean sex-wise,” he elaborated, “What did you do to one another?” Not getting an immediate response, he said, “Oh, now you’re both suddenly ashamed?”

“I finger fucked him,” you answered, “While I sucked him and slapped his balls.”

“And I…” Yeosang hesitated. “I tongue fucked her pussy and fucked her throat.”

“Oh yeah?” The small descriptions intrigued your master, a smirk spreading on his face. He lifted your chin and examined your other injuries. You winced at the thumb touching your jaw, and he placed a soft kiss on it. “How many times did you both cum?” he asked, licking the caked blood on your broken lip. 

“Only once,” you replied, your body warming to his hot tongue. 

“A quick one then?” a low rumble came from his chest, and you knew what ran through his mind. 

“Yes,” you answered in unison. 

He looked between the two of you, then said, “Come with me.” 

Nervousness killed the arousal Yeosang started up again. There’d been no specific rules against sex with the other servants. They only said nobody could have vaginal sex with you. Is he punishing you for the door? It was Yeosang, not you. Maybe for fighting him? You can imagine that. Seonghwa likely believed fighting wasn’t lady-like. Reaching Seonghwa’s bedroom, you took in the tall canopy bed with its white floral curtains and white bed covers. The sunlight dimming outside left the room in a golden glow, bringing out the bright colors in the room. Seonghwa removed his jacket, putting it behind a chair he brought closer to the bed. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, taking a seat and relaxing in his chair. On a table beside him, he poured himself a brandy. “And finish what you two started in the library.”

“Sir, really,” Yeosang huffed a laugh, “This isn’t necessary-”

“-Do you both need to be fighting for the sex to happen? Is that your foreplay?”

“It’s not my fault he gets hard berating me all the time,” you said, shooting him a glance. “He’s always calling me names and insulting my intelligence.”

“I’m not saying anything untrue,” he replied. “You’re a cock-starved slum slut. Is that not true?” 

“And you’re an uptight, snobby small-dicked bitch boy,” you spat. “That sounds pretty accurate to me.” 

Seonghwa laughed, sipping his brandy, “You two really can go at it, huh? Keep going. This is fun.”

“If my dick is so small, how could you gagged on it when I fucked your mouth?” he challenged, stepping to you. 

“Psh, you call what you did ‘gagging’? The only thing that made me gag is your gross tasting cum. I wouldn’t eat it even if it was the last edible source in the world.”

“Look who’s talking. Master Seonghwa says your pussy tastes like honey, but I think it tastes like rotten fruit.”

You pushed him, and he pushed back. That sharp feeling in your chest returned, pooling like saliva in your mouth. You swallowed it back even if it hurt. Showing any sign of desire would mean Yeosang won. You wouldn’t let him. 

“Slap her,” Seonghwa said, eyes trained on both of you. “You’re going to let a slum slut talk to you like that? She’s a filthy human, and you’re a grandson of Satan. How dare she disrespect you that way.”

Yeosang took his words to heart and smacked you again. “Ooh, that was hard,” Seonghwa laughed, “Kitten, don’t just stand there. Hit him back.”

So you did. Yeosang blocked the hit and slapped you. When he reached for you, you turned him onto his back on the bed. Once more, you tore at Yeosang’s clothes much more harshly this time. The broken buttons made it much easier, and it came off with his coat as well. Yeosang squirmed when you took his nipple between your teeth. As you teased his nipples, he reached down to your own to pinch them hard. 

“Come on,” Seonghwa drawled, “You two can do better than nipple stuff. Bite each-Haha, yes! Like that!”

Yeosang sunk his canines into your shoulder, making you yelp in pain as he drew blood. You did the same back, and the taste of his blood stirred your hunger. It tasted like a good rare steak. You supposed demon blood tasted that way. You’d started grinding into Yeosang as you bit across his collarbone. The sting of pain didn’t stop him from pushing you onto your back. He straddled your stomach and started slapping your tits again, using wide swings to add extra pain. You cried out as he did it to them at the same time, enjoying the stings of pain with your arousal. Trying to wriggle out from under him, you undid his pants to pull his cock out again. You held his hands on your tits as you slipped his length between them. 

“Oooh a nice tit fuck,” Seonghwa said, “How delightful. You’re not going to give in that easily, are you, Yeosang? I didn’t think the sons of Satan could be so weak.” 

“He is weak,” you confirmed, glaring at him as you pumped him with your breasts. “He’s already dripping on my tits. He loves my tits, don't you? Huh? My soft tits and hard nipples?” 

“You fucking bitch,” Yeosang growled. 

You laughed mockingly at him, and he slapped your face. Still laughing, you grappled with him as he tried getting you onto your front. 

“Pin her down,” Seonghwa cheered, “Get her ass in the air.” 

“What’s going on here?” a curious voice came from the door. San appeared, fresh from work, and he stopped next to Seonghwa when he saw you and Yeosang on the bed. “Are they wrestling?”

“Hate fucking. Care to watch?”

“Absolutely. I love a good hate fuck.” 

Forced onto your front, you tried lifting Yeosang off your back. Laying on your horizontally, he held you down while he began landing hard slaps to your ass. Your kicking and jerking amused the three demons. 

“Finger her,” Seonghwa called out, “Make her cum first.”

“Darling, just grab his dick. It’s right there.” 

You curved your body as much as possible to reach Yeosang’s hardening cock. Yeosang in return slipped two fingers into your aching pussy. Seonghwa cheered for Yeosang when he spotted the butler listening to his instructions. Yeosang spread your legs further, putting one hand under you and another over you and he fingered your pussy and rubbed your ass hole. Whining and whimpering, you spat on your hand and worked him up and down. You felt him pulse with each stroke. With a hard squeeze of his shaft, the brief pain distracted him enough to lose his grip on you. Sitting on his chest, you spat on his dick and stroked him with both hands. Yeosang’s fingers tickle the tops of your feet until you become ticklish. You kept jerking him off even as you fought the tickling sensation in your feet. He went further up your feet until he reached the center of your sole, which had you kicking to escape them. 

“Ticklish much, slut?” Yeosang teased before grabbing both ankles. 

He rolled you onto your front, pinning you down with his body and continuing to tickle your feet. Laughing from the tingling feeling, you tried moving your feet from him but when he turned around against you, using the empty space like a chair, it was over. Strong arms wrapped around your legs, he kept tickling your feet and backs of your legs. 

“Is it weird that I’m kind of into this?” San asked his brother. 

“Hongjoong’s into it, so let that be your answer.”

“Tickling isn’t that weird…”

You eventually kicked a foot out, and scrambled away from Yeosang. On the other side of the bed, you stood ready to tackle him. 

“Uh-oh, she got away, Yeosang,” Seonghwa jeered. “Just grab her!”

Yeosang lunged for you, managing to yank you onto the bed by the hair. Bent over, he brought you into the middle by an arm around your thighs. You struggled in his grasp. Your lower half in his lap, Yeosang resumed tickling your feet with one hand while holding your face into the bed with the other. Shimming your hips around, your pussy pressed to his cock easily. Yeosang let out a soft moan when you slipped him between your thighs. Grinding up and down, you fucked Yeosang with your thighs. 

“She’s thigh fucking him even in that weird position,” San chuckled. Finally seeing him, you saw he’d pulled up his own chair and drank from a brandy glass. “God, that’s hot.” 

The door opened again when you rolled off Yeosang. “Ah, so this is where everyone is!” Hongjoong walked into the room, and saw you and Yeosang on the bed. “Well, well, what is going on here?”

“Fight fuck,” San answered, “Pull up a chair.”

All three men groaned and laughed when you slammed a fist into Yeosang’s face. “Pet can really throw a punch!” Hongjoong laughed, shocked by the blood dripping from Yeosang’s mouth. 

“Put him inside you, Darling,” San suggested. “Milk him with that delicious pussy of yours.” 

“And he’d love it,” you growled at Yeosang, not hesitating to slide him inside you. Bouncing fast and hard, you pinned him by his shoulders and fucked him. “Who’s the fucking whore now, hm? Who’s the whore now?”

“It’s still you, bitch!”

Yeosang punched you this time. Teeth cutting into your cheek, he used the moment to force you onto your back. Blood tinged your mouth, which you gathered and spat on him. This only angered him more. 

“Fuck her, Yeosangie,” Hongjoong called, “Fuck her!”

The three brothers hooted when Yeosang curled you and shoved his dick into you hard. The bed bounced in every thrust. You refrained from moaning in each blissful push. Stars exploded in front of you whenever his dick went particularly deep. You swore the man was drawing out your sanity bit by bit. You clawed at his arms, his hands and back to distract him but he kept on going. The stabs of pain did not stop him at all. Even as blood peeked out of the hard scratches, Yeosang seemed unfazed. 

“You can tap out any time, Kitten,” Seonghwa said, “You can give in and let him fuck your pretty holes.”

“N-No,” you grunted, trying to slide out from under Yeosang even if his cock hit your g-spot perfectly. “Oh fuck, no. No, no, no, fuck you, no!”

Sensing your orgasm, Yeosang started pushing deeper. The brothers having a perfect view of Yeosang inside you, they started counting his thrusts. 

“Bet she cums in, like, ten more thrusts,” Hongjoong said. 

“I bet five,” Seonghwa replied. “She’s already curling her toes, look.” 

“Darling, come on, don’t give in that easily. You hold on so well for me in my bed.” 

You used all your strength to get Yeosang off you. Once separated from him, putting one arm on his throat, you squeezed his balls as you started sucking him. 

“That’s my girl,” San said approvingly. “That’s it. Give him a nice blowjob.”

“Fucking hell, Yeosang! You almost had her!” 

“Kang Yeosang,” Seonghwa scolded him, “If you don’t turn that bitch around and get back to fucking her, I’m going to put you in the greenhouse. You remember how stretched your ass hole got when Dennis finished with you, don’t you?”

This threat caused you and Yeosang to roll onto the hard floor. A shock of pain went from your head to your back, with you breaking Yeosang’s fall. Scrambling over you, he took advantage of your hard fall and lifted and spread your legs. Your head stuck against the bed frame, the awkward position nearly choked you. Keeping himself up on his hands, Yeosang fucked you in a reverse position that pleased your audience. 

“I bet you she passes out,” Hongjoong tapped San’s arm. “He’s got her in a rough position.”

“Darling, don’t give up,” San encouraged you. 

“No, do give up, Darling,” Hongjoong said, “I want to fuck you after Yeosang.”

“Hell no,” said Seonghwa, “It’s my day so I’m fucking the loser first.” 

Using Yeosang’s tactic against him, you started tickling Yeosang’s feet. He collapsed right at the first few brushes. To keep your audience happy, you managed to maneuver yourself on Yeosang so they could see you jerk him off with your soaked cunt. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” San moaned. You saw the bulges in each of their pants. San palmed his down to focus on you instead of his own pleasure. “How long have they been at this?”

Seonghwa told his brothers what you and Yeosang did in the garden. While he recounted the story, Yeosang knocked your elbows so you fell onto his chest. Locking his legs around yours, he stuck his hand to your pussy and started rubbing your sensitive pussy quickly. You managed to stick him between your thighs again, grinding into him. Both of you grunted and groaned, restraining your needy whimpers as you fucked on the ground. You refused to let him win. Even with your bloody mouth and aching muscles, you fought against him. 

“Holy shit, they did that?” Hongjoong laughed. “Sounds to me like they’re both whores. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Neither do I,” said Seonghwa, “But it riles them up. I figured a one-on-one will settle things between them.”

“By how they’re fucking, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” 

Yeosang turned you into your front and stuck himself in your ass. Your sudden scream delighted the three men. “She loves it in her ass,” Hongjoong said, “Give it to her hard, Yeosang.”

“Fuck her ass,” Seonghwa chanted. 

The three brothers began chanting as you clawed at the hardwood floors. Pleasure pounded into you in every thrust. When your moans finally broke and became louder, the chanting ended and you heard clapping. 

“Make her cum,” Seonghwa said, “Get that slum slut to cum really hard. I want that pussy nice and sloppy for me.”

“Darling, stop being a wimp and fight back!”

“She’s too fucked out to care about fighting-Oh, oh, oh, I think it’s happening!”

You punched at Yeosang’s arms, hoping it might cause him to collapse, but he held strong. Your face pressed to the floor by his hand, you trembled and pounded the floor as you came. You felt humiliated and defeated. Yeosang laughed in triumph. Hongjoong and Seonghwa cheered at your quaking legs and stiff muscles. They encouraged him to keep going, but Yeosang pulled out and stood over you. He kicked you over onto your back, smugness on his blushing face as he put his foot on your chest. His muscles tensed and body rocked back and forth. Thick drops of cum fell right onto your face and neck. This time, you didn’t catch them in your mouth but instead turned your head. You hated how he laughed in the face of your defeat, humiliating you further by cumming all over you. 

“Oh, all of a sudden you don’t want cum in your mouth?” Seonghwa asked in disbelief. 

“Darling,” San moaned in disappointment, “You were doing so well. What happened?” 

“Yeosang’s cock happened, that’s what,” cackled Hongjoong, who stood to unbuckle his pants. “Now, it’s my turn.”

“No, it’s mine,” argued Seonghwa, taking off his shirt. “Like I said, it’s my day with her so I go first.”

“Then I’m going second. San goes last.”

“What? Why me?”

“You’re the youngest.”

“And the biggest,” he argued back.

“Oh give me a break. Don’t use that excuse again.”

“On the bed, bitch.”

Seonghwa took your ankles and Yeosang took your arms. In a single swing, they threw you onto the bed. “Fuck, look at that,” Seonghwa groaned, removing the rest of his clothes and climbing onto the bed, “Her pussy is so damn wet.”

“She’s a whore,” Yeosang said, tapping his dick on your mouth, “They’re always wet.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” 

He swiftly slid inside, and immediately began pounding into you. They both laughed at your instant moaning. Hearing you moaning, Seonghwa shook his head and slapped your cheek. “Losers don’t get orgasms,” he said, “They get their slutty hole fucked and pumped with cum. They don’t get to finish.”

“You should’ve considered that before fighting me,” Yeosang said, swiping his dick on your face. “Unless you lost on purpose, which is just pathetic. So, so pathetic.”

When you wiggled, Yeosang grabbed your arms to hold you down. San and Hongjoong appeared to keep your legs spread wide as their older brother quickly finished inside you. You quivered feeling hot cum shoot all over your walls. Being held down made it hard to escape the overstimulation each one brought. Hongjoong and Seonghwa switched places, and he swished his hard tip over your gushing sex. He chuckled when you whined, doing it even more to hear you cry out. He fucked you exactly how you expected, hard and fast. His hips snapped into yours while he rubbed your nipples. You nearly came again until he did first, adding his milky cum to Seonghwa’s load. 

“Oh fuck, look at this.”

They all groaned at the cum oozing out of your pussy. “Let’s see how much it gushes when I fill her up,” San said, sticking himself in you next. “I thought for sure you’d win, Darling,” he said, fucking into you hard. “I thought my wife was a winner.”

“Ma-Mas-t-er…”

“Shut up, whore,” Yeosang said, smacking one tit until you cried. “Keep talking and I’ll shut you up myself.”

“She’d probably like that,” said Seonghwa, tweaking your nipple hard. “She’d suck dick all day if we let her.” 

“I wouldn’t complain!” San whimpered, on the verge of an orgasm. “I’d take her to work with me too. Let her suck me under the desk.”

“We should do that,” Hongjoong said, eyes brightening at the new idea. “It’d make my work day so much more fun.”

The thought set San off. He came in several deep thrusts, bulging your belly like always, and pushed back all the cum that leaked out of you. Yeosang, hard from watching them use you, finally took his turn. Your masters laughed and beckoned him to go faster inside you. 

“I’ll pay you fifty-gold if you make her cum again,” Hongjoong told Yeosang. 

“Fifty-gold and a weekend off,” added Seonghwa. 

“And your choice of a brothel whore,” said San. 

Playing with your clit and pounding your sweet spot, you saw stars as you came. Your high-pitched squeals and quaking body amused them, but angered you. Yeosang forced himself as deep as possible as his cum joined the mess already inside you. Your masters finally released you, watching you cry from the overwhelming sensations running through your body. When you moved to close up, they held you apart. 

“I want to see it,” Hongjoong said, looking to see their combined fluids seep out of you. “Haha, it’s so full. If she were even half a demon, we might’ve just knocked her up.” 

“If only,” said San with a pout. “She’d look so pretty pregnant.”

“I’ve never fucked a pregnant chick, surprisingly.”

"Are you okay, Kitten?” asked Seonghwa, cupping your face and kissing you. “Sensitive? Any pain?”

“Yes.”

“Here, lay back against the pillows.” 

“I’ll call Yunho. Yunho!” San called into the room, the butler appearing when summoned. 

You hardly paid attention to anything else. You glared at them, “You’re a bunch of whores too. If there’s a House of Kisses, then this is the Palace of Whores.” 

They laughed at your frowning face, and Seonghwa cooed. “Don’t be a sore loser,” he said, smiling and kissing you again, “You did well too. You’ll get him next time.” 

“If you want,” San came up next to you with a wet cloth, beginning to clean your face, “We can practice together. I’m quite good at fight fucking, I’ve been told.” 

“He really is,” agreed Seonghwa. 

“I’m more of a spectator.” Hongjoong knelt in front of you, another damp cloth in his hand. He went to touch your sex, and you clammed up, shaking your head. “I’m not going to do anything. We need to clean you, baby.” He gently pushed your legs apart and cleaned the sticky mess coming out of you. “We can’t have you walking around dripping like this.” 

“Just get some rest, Darling,” San pecked your lips, “We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“You promise?” you asked softly. 

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling your nose gently. “Be a good pet and sleep.” 

The last words you heard as you drifted to sleep were Hongjoong’s: 

“Dude, what happened to your doors?”

****

Yes, what happened to the doors? Yeosang wondered about this as the masters converged on you. His body slumped into a nearby chair, sweat sticking to his skin and matting his hair. All the adrenaline in his veins died out after his third orgasm of the day. Surely, he’ll be needing that weekend off. The smell of apples clung to his nostrils even with the sweat and sex in the air. Your fruity fragrance always stuck with him after being around you too long. He wondered which perfume you owned had such potency. It usually wears off after a short amount of time, but yours always stuck around. 

“Yeosang,” Master Seonghwa approached him, pouring a brandy for him, “Here. For you.”

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded, mustering energy to grab the glass and sip from it. 

“She’s something, huh?” he asked, leaning in his own chair and finishing his brandy. “I’ve never had a human who can take such a pounding like that. They usually give up in the first few minutes.”

“She’s a whore, Master. It’s what she’s made for.”

“Humans are made to be blank slates for the world to fill up as they grow,” he said. He saw his master staring at you intently. Yeosang only saw that stare in one situation: when his mind was turning. “They’re meant to be given choices, leading them one way or another, and they’re given free will to choose. Kitten chose herself each time…”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“What does she smell like to you, Yeosang?”

“Master?”

“When you are near her, what does she smell like?”

“Apples,” he answered, “Apples covered in cinnamon.”

“Are you fond of cinnamon-apples?”

“I do enjoy them on occasion.”

“Hm, interesting.” He poured himself another brandy, “She smells like honey to me.” He smiled softly, “Golden honey spread over fresh, warm bread.”

“I am aware, sir.”

“Hongjoong tells me she smells like strawberry ice cream,” he said. “You know how partial he is to strawberries in general, but he says she’s like the ice cream specifically.”

“Huh,” Yeosang said, leaning in his chair. “That is interesting.”

“San says he smells orange slices.”

“So fruit based scents,” Yeosang concluded. “What does that tell you?”

“Remember when I kissed her?” he said, “Licked her bloody lip and all?”

“I do.” He’d found it a pleasurable sight. 

“My throat stung.” The silence that followed the words left many things unsaid. “It stung as if I had acid reflux. At the time, I thought it was something I ate but now…”

“Do you believe otherwise?”

“I do. You tasted her blood. How do you feel?”

Yeosang took a moment to think about it. In the heat of passion, he’d owned the stinging in his throat to his low growls and snarls. He thought it might’ve been the deep breathing drying out his mouth. Yet, as he took a purposeful swallow, he realized it stung slightly. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach might have been his tensed abdomen or another thing entirely. 

“The same.”

“Huh…And the doors-”

“-I would never damage your property, sir,” Yeosang interrupted. “Not even in the hottest of rages would I do that.”

“Then who did it?”

“I’m not sure. She might have touched it without realizing and pushed them hard. This house is very old, Master. It is possible.”

Seonghwa chuckled, “Yeosang, you are not so blind.”

“Then what do you believe happened?”

“I think Kitten hasn’t been entirely honest with us,” he said. “I must think about this more.” 

Yeosang felt a pit of worry break through him. “Master, what happened between-”

“-Dennis…” the name came from Seonghwa without realizing. 

Yeosang’s blood went cold. “What about him?”

“Let’s put her before him,” he suggested. “I’d like to see what happens.”

“What happens? Sir, I don’t believe that is the best idea. Dennis will drain her, then rip her apart. You’ll have lost-”

“-Let me worry about that. You go and enjoy your weekend off. I recommend that brothel in the high street. It’s called Scarlet Silk. They truly have a nice selection there.” 

“Master, the greenhouse is meant for disobedient slaves and for the maids,” he said, not letting it go so easily. “YN might be a bit untamed, but she doesn’t deserve such a harsh and cruel end. What happened between me and her was nothing. It was a spat between rivals. I would never truly harm her or wish her to be harmed. I could’ve easily have crushed her if I-”

“-I said I will worry about it, Yeosang,” he said with finality. “Clean yourself up and get some rest. Jongho can see after Kitten tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Regret tore his insides as he left the room in nothing but a sheet. Walking through the quiet palace, he worried about what he’d just done. He’d played the prank in hopes of heating you up for sex. Yeosang enjoyed the small spats and insults you threw at one another. He knew if you figured that out, he’d never have a peaceful moment. He’d struggled to keep himself together in the library, where you left yourself bare for him. He might have taken you right there if Master Seonghwa had not intervened. The two of you could always have an amicable relationship like you and Jongho. 

But, where was the fun in that? 

***

Y/N: hmm, interesting, no? We might start learning a few new things about YN now. As always, thanks for reading, and please reblog and like <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #kang yeosang #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #yeosang x yn #ateez smut #ateez x reader #yeosang smut #kang yeosang smut

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hey hey! How about...

16. trying something new

With...😏

first-time plant parents

pairing: husband!ari levinson x female reader

warnings: domestic fluff, referenced smut (not really 18+ but i'd always rather minors do not interact!), kissing, little bit of dry humping, non-graphic sex, pet names (sunshine)

word count: 1,500ish

a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt Navy!!! i have no excuse for this except i just think starting a vegetable garden with ari would be neat 🤷🏼‍♀️ this is so so so so self-indulgent but i hope y'all enjoy ♡♡

You were surprised by how good it felt to get your hands dirty, your fingers sinking into the rich soil as you scooped some up and patted it down around the tomato seedling you’d just planted. Sitting back on your heels, you looked down the row of tomatoes you’d finished planting, a sense of accomplishment settling deep into your body and making you smile to yourself. 

But it seemed you weren’t the only one to take pride in your efforts, as a warm, familiar voice called, “Lookin’ good, sunshine,” from the other side of the small vegetable garden you and your husband had set up in your backyard. 

Lifting your eyes from the row of tomato seedlings you’d carefully planted, your gaze collided with that of your husband, Ari Levinson, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling in the bright spring sunshine. His grin was wide as he used a hand to push his golden brown hair back from his face, pride and affection shining in his gaze as he looked at you. 

Your smile widened in return, and you raised a hand to shade your eyes so you could see his progress. “How’re the herbs coming?” you asked, your eyes skimming along the basil, rosemary and mint you’d decided to plant. They were in their own planter boxes to ensure they didn’t overrun the garden, and it looked like your husband was done with the task. “They look good.”

You’d never had a vegetable garden before—at least, not one of your own. Your grandmother had one when you were little, your father taking you into the impressively large garden to show you where they’d planted spinach and tomatoes and green beans and rhubarb. 

But with that garden long since gone and both your grandmother and father having passed, you’d told Ari you wanted to try your hand at growing some veggies of your own. Your husband had been excited to try it, even though he had less experience than you.

But he’d jumped into it as eagerly as you, digging up a little plot in your backyard and setting up a fence so that the animals didn’t get to your herbs and veggies. The garden was bigger than the meager crop you’d decided to plant that first year—just the herbs, your tomatoes and some spinach—but Ari said the two of you would grow into it.  

“Do they look as good as your husband?” Ari asked teasingly, drawing you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you got to your feet, brushing your hands off on your shorts and picking your way across the garden to your husband. You bent down to look at the planter boxes, making a show of assessing his work in planting the herbs. When you’d drawn it out long enough, you stood back up and looked to your husband, having to stifle a laugh when you saw he’d somehow managed to get streaks of dirt across his forehead.

“They look better than you,” you said, barely contained laughter making your voice waver as you reached up and tried to brush the dirt from Ari’s forehead, asking, “How did you manage to get dirt here?” However, since your hands were also covered in dirt, you only managed to make things worse. Ari laughed at your wince of apology. 

“I think you’ve got a little something, too,” he said playfully, brushing his dirty fingers over the tip of your nose. You were certain you didn’t have any dirt on your nose, which meant he’d just gotten you dirty for no good reason.

Gasping in mock outrage, you jumped back as he reached for your face again, knocking his hand away. “Don’t get me more dirty than I already am!” you cried, but you were laughing as you fended off your husband’s filthy, reaching hands. 

You danced around the garden, trying to avoid Ari and your plants, but after a few moments, you decided to go on the offensive. “Let’s see how you like getting dirty!” you yelled, darting close to your husband and swiping your fingers across Ari’s cheek, leaving behind a new streak of dirt above the line of his beard. 

However, Ari didn’t let you escape, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and hauling you up against his chest. “Do your worst, sunshine,” he challenged, laughing right along with you. 

Since his hands were busy holding onto you and yours were free, you brushed even more dirt on his cheeks, giggling as you got him even dirtier. But it wasn’t long before your giggles died down and the two of you were left pressed against one another, your chests heaving as you caught your breath and stared into each other’s eyes.

You could feel your body warming, which seemed to be a natural reaction to your husband’s closeness, your nipples tightening and heat sinking low to settle in your core. Squirming in Ari’s arms, you could feel your expression change, your eyes turning pleading as an aching need built up in your body.

“Stop looking at me like that, sunshine,” Ari rumbled, a gruff warning in his tone. You could feel his body responding to you, his arousal digging into your belly and making your legs tremble beneath you. “Or I’m liable to take you right here—garden be damned.”

Ari’s words sent new tendrils of heat curling through your body, even as they knocked some sense into you and you managed a playful gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as you pretended to be scandalized. “Not in front of the plants, Ari,” you scolded, your tone more flirtatious than chastising. 

Your husband grinned, squeezing you tighter, and ducked down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that had you melting against his chest. Your fingers dove into Ari’s beard, clinging to him and holding him close while you devoured each other. When you whimpered into the kiss and rocked your body against Ari’s bulge, he pulled away with a groan.

“Sunshine,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours and drawing in deep, heavy breaths that pushed his chest against yours in the most delicious way. “If you don’t want our little seedlings exposed to our dirty deeds so early in their lives, you’re gonna have to let me take you inside now,” he murmured in a serious tone, but you could see the corners of his mouth flickering with his need to grin. “Because the idea of seeing you blissed out and satisfied in the garden we made is sounding better by the second.”

“Then take me inside, husband,” you said huskily, a smirk tugging at the edges of your lips, “because you are not fucking me the dirt.”

Wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck, Ari held you still while he kissed you again, his tongue plundering your mouth until your mind was fuzzy and you’d mostly forgotten where you were. You knew that had been Ari’s intention when his lips trailed along your jaw, nipping and kissing your skin until his mouth brushed the edge of your ear.

“What if I made love to you in the grass?” he rumbled teasingly, bending down to grab your leg and hitch it over his hip so he could press his bulge into the apex of your thighs. His grunt was loud in your ear, but it didn’t drown out the low, filthy moan that slipped from your lips.

Still, you weren’t so far gone that you’d let Ari have his way with you just anywhere. “What about the shower?” you countered, your voice high-pitched and breathy, making your husband chuckle as he kissed down your neck. 

Then you were shrieking in surprise and delight as Ari hauled you off your feet and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you into the house to finish what you’d started. He took you in the shower, the two of you laughing as much as you kissed, taking turns washing the grime of dirt from each other’s skin before sinking into the familiar rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Later, when you were both sated and clean and the sun was sinking lower toward the horizon, you stood in the grass outside the fence of your humble little vegetable garden. Ari stood at your back, his arms circling your waist and holding you close as you both took pride in the work you’d accomplished that day. 

“Do you think we’ll be good first-time plant parents?” you asked softly, your fingers trailing idly through the hair on Ari’s arms. Tilting your head to the side, you wondered if you’d watered the newly transplanted seedlings enough to make the transition easier for them.

“I think we’ll do our best,” Ari murmured, curling his body around yours and pressing a kiss to your temple while he squeezed you tighter in his arms. “I think we’ll give them all the love they need, and I think they’ll flourish because of it.” 

A pleased smile curved your lips and you hummed in agreement, leaning back further against Ari, knowing your husband spoke the truth. After all, you’d done the same with each other—you’d given each other all the love in your hearts and both of you had flourished. Ari was your partner, your husband, the love of your life, and you wouldn’t want to be first-time plant parents with anyone but him.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fluff #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #navybrat817

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XVII

<- Previous Chapter I

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: What can I say on this chapter. A little bit of racism and killing envy. But I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, I don't think this is my best ... I don't really know how to feel about this chapter.

“ Of all the spirits, Alastor, all the spirits, why did you choose this one to work with?” asked Marie as he took her son's ear between her fingers. You couldn't help but snicker behind your hand at the scene. It was something Marie used to do when Alastor was younger, when he would upset you she would pinched lightly his ears while sermoning him.

“ Well, you have never talked to me about it.. So I did it my way.” Alastor said with an amused smile, bending so his mother could keep her grip on his ear. 

“ Oh mon dieu…I didn’t teach you because I didn’t think you needed to know about it.” she sighed before sitting down on the sofa. She looked at you with a worried expression. “ Are you okay, sweetie? Working with spirit can be very tiring even more if they don’t accept you.”

“ Well… I’m not working with them yet.” you smiled nervously, explaining to Marie everything that happened so far. She grimaced when you told how John forced you to awake from your trance while you were talking with Papa Legba.

“ I see. This is… surprising, I won’t lie, I didn’t expect it.”

“ I thought I was going crazy.” you chuckled as Alastor sat next to you, taking your hand in his. “ Even if I'm still… not sure about everything, I want to give it a try.”

Marie looked at her son, her face serious.

“ You can’t see him , Alastor?”

“ I could sense him when she was talking to herself in the mirror, moments ago, or when she was sitting with him on the bench. But if not for her eyes, I would have just thought she was sleepwalking.” 

Marie was looking at you both, it seemed like she was thinking about what you just told her. You bit your lips, you didn’t know if it was a good idea to ask but you needed to know.

“ Marie, are… are you still working with spirits?” you asked. You saw her eyes twitch, even if she could easily hide her emotions, you were used to Alastor’s facial expression. Marie was easier to read than you remember…

“ Why are you asking?”

“ He told me you used to work with a spirit called: Gran Bwa. And… We saw him when we went into the forest. He told me he was disguised as deer…”

You looked at Marie as she sighed, she seemed so tired.

“ Yes, I’m still working with some spirits. Grand Bwa is the protector of wildlife, and doesn't like to be seen.  Because Alastor’s father would force him to follow him into the woods, I was so scared something would happen to him.. So I asked for his help… For you to be safe in those woods.”

You felt Alastor’s grip on your hand tightened. His smile was still present as he was looking intensely at his mother, but you could feel he was agitated.

“ Mother, I am still not as experienced as you, but I’m safe in those woods now. Our biggest threat is gone.  Don’t tire yourself.” he smiled at her before standing up. “ Matter of fact, let me bring me something to eat.” 

You let Alastor’s hand go after he kissed you on the forehead before going into the kitchen. You stood up and walked toward Marie, before kneeling in front of her, taking her shaking hands in yours.

“ Marie, If I have decided to work with spirits, it’s because I want to protect Alastor. You’ve been doing it perfectly for years, please, as your future daughter in law, let me help you.” you stared at her, trying to convey all of your sincerity. You meant every word. Now that her husband has been slayed, nothing would come to disturbed the peace in this house. Alastor and yourself would make sure of that.

“ Ahh.. You have such pretty eyes, sweetie. Since the first time I saw you, your eyes have always been so pure, vivid and bright. I’m happy they didn’t change, I’m happy that, no matter what has happened, you are still as bright as when you first entered this house.” she leaned toward you, kissing you on the forehead. “ Take care of Alastor…”

You stayed at Marie’s house all morning. She was teaching you how to maintain your connection with spirits so next time you would meet Papa Legba, you wouldn’t be asleep. You would be able to be in the living world, talking with the people and using what the spirits would be giving you. 

Marie has told you, you couldn’t use the spirit’s power if you were feeling emotions too strongly. You needed to be rooted into the present, you needed to be concentrating on the link that bound you with the spirits you were calling for. You would have to try meditation, unlike Alastor who always was in control, you were the kind to let your emotion go freely as they pleased.

“ Let’s try it, okay sweetie? First, you need to close your eyes, maybe I’ll be easier.” you nodded,looking one last time at Alastor who was watching you with curiosity and an encouraging smile. You closed your eyes. She made you stand up, keeping your hands in hers. “ Alright, do you feel the warmth of my hands? Perfect. Now, I want you to imagine vines that come from the ground. Slowly, they wrap around your ankles, moving toward your waist, then they cling to your vertebral column until you feel them in your head.”

You breathed slowly, focusing on your feet. You tried to imagine the vines wrapping themselves around you but you were just met with silence. You tried to remember what you felt when Papa Legba came to meet you. You felt… warm. You tried again, this time imagining a warm thread coming from the ground, moving around your ankle. You felt your body relax as Marie kept your hands in hers.

You could feel your body getting warmer and warmer. You wondered if you were doing good.

You are doing great, little lady.

You kept your eyes closed as Papa Legba’s voice surrounded you. You felt like he was all around you even inside you, like you ate something too hot and you could still feel it in your body. 

Seems like you are a natural. Congratulations are in order.

You tried to nod but you felt like your body was made of stone, you couldn’t move a muscle.  It was kind of claustrophobic.

No worries. It’s normal, I’m possessing you.

You felt your heartbeat increase slowly but you needed to be calm, or the connection would break and you didn’t want to end up like last time, when John forced you out of your trance.

Now, what kind of spirits do you need ? 

Wait..? Was he asking what kind of power you wanted?

Exactly, let’s see if you can handle it… You wanted power to protect, wasn’t it.

You felt your mouth open, without your accord, and you spoke in a language you have never heard before. What were you saying?

This is where I go. Remember, you can’t keep the spirit forever, it needs to come back to his realm, I’ll keep the passage open for it. And for your energy, I wouldn’t recommend you to use it for too long. See you next time, little lady, and thank Marie for the rooster.

You felt the warmth leaving your body. You waited a few seconds before opening your eyes slowly. You were met with Alastor’s face, who was stroking your cheeks with a fond expression.

“ You are beautiful.” 

You tilted your head against his hand, sighing in relief. You made it back. You looked around, noticing that Marie wasn’t there anymore.

“ What happened ?”

“ Well, you stayed like this for 10 minutes.” he looked at his watch with an excited grin. “ I thought you were asleep but you said something and then you came back with beautiful red eyes.” 

You went toward a mirror and stared at your reflection. Alastor was right, your eyes were red just like earlier this morning. You turned around, trying to see what might look different.

“ I… He said I’ll have a spirit power but I don’t feel anything right now.” you looked back at Alastor who was looking at you with a big grin. “ What?”

“ I can’t admire you now?” he came toward you with a teasing expression. You smiled when you saw him lean toward you. You smirked, you wanted to keep him away from you, to tease. You held your hand in front of him sticking your tongue at him but before you could do anything, Alastor’s hand hit an invisible surface in front of you. “ What..?”

You put your hand on the invisible surface which was keeping you from Alastor. Wait.. You could feel warmth in your eyes. You closed your eyes, trying to make it go away, it wasn’t really comfortable. 

You felt Alastor’s hand on your shoulder as you rubbed your eyes, trying to erase the feeling behind your eyes. 

“ Oh, is she okay Alastor?”

“ Yes and I think you should come and see what she just did.”

You felt Alastor backing away as you opened your eyes once again, feeling the warmth once more. You looked at Marie as she had a dead rooster in her hand. She was looking at your eyes.

“ Rouge… C’est sa couleur après tout..”

You looked at your hand. What was that..? Did you… Did you make a shield? You held your hand once again feeling your eyes burning, you could almost feel tears. Alastor took a pillow from the sofa and threw it at you, the pillow hitting the invisible force that was surrounding you. You looked at the pillows then Alastor who was grinning so hard you felt like his face was going to break because of how big his smile was.

“I’m… I’m really impressed. How are you feeling?” asked Marie, her eyes wide open.

“ My eyes are killing me.” you chuckled nervously. You wondered if you could conjure your shield around Alastor, that would be more useful than around yourself. Did that mean you’ll have to be around him to make it work or ,like Marie used to, you could ask a spirit to do it for you? 

You closed your eyes once more. You didn’t know if the spirit could hear you but you think it was enough magic for today. You didn’t want to be exhausted.

“ Thank you, you can go back now.”

You waited a few seconds before you felt cold. You opened your eyes, looking at Marie and Alastor. You looked at your reflection in the mirror and sighed in relief when you saw your eyes, the same color as usual. You turned around but were met with a pillow in the face. Alastor has just thrown another pillow at you.

“ I’m not sorry Darling, I just wanted to see if you were unshielded.” he smirked as you took the pillow from the ground.

“ You knew that! My eyes aren’t red anymore!”

“ I just wanted to make sure. And that’s your punishment, how could you create a barrier between the two of us?” he walked toward you with a smile that made you believe he wasn’t completely joking.

“ Alastor! And you call yourself a gentleman?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, making a surprised face. He leaned toward your ear and whispered.

“ You know I can be worse.” he bit your ears making you flush and turn your eyes toward Marie but the woman was already busy with something else. “ But you’ll keep being at my side, right?”

You kissed his cheek before leaning toward his ears.

“ Death wouldn’t be able to tear us apart, Alastor.” you whispered, feeling a shiver of delight when you heard him gasp at your words. You stepped back with a teasing smirk as he stared at you with a wide smile.

“ Your eyes are red.”

“ What?” you turned your back to him to look at yourself in the mirror but your eyes were their usual color. “ You liar–!” you squealed when you felt Alastor’s teeth sinking into your neck, making you grip his hair. You felt him suck on your skin, making you moan lightly. You blushed when you saw your reflection staring back at you, you tried to turn your head but Alastor held your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at yourself.

“ Look at us.”

“ Alastor..” you whispered. “ your mother isn’t far..”

“ Look at us.” he said once more, his deep slick voice making you feel warm. You look at your reflection as Alastor kept kissing, biting, sucking on your skin. You were staring at him, the way he was staring back at you as he held your body possessively against him was making you lightheaded. “ Don’t ever… think about putting that shield of yours against us, do you hear me?”

You tried to contain the giddy sensation you were feeling. You tilted your head back as you felt his hand taking hold on your neck, not squeezing it, just putting his hand on your neck. 

“ What if I do it again..?” you whispered. You shivered when you heard him chuckling darkly. 

“ You’ll see it for yourself.”

You were so going to use this shield once more.

—

“ And you didn’t want to tell because..?”

You looked at Alice, who was laying on her bed under multiple blankets. After your morning training with Marie you decided to see Alice. After all, last time you saw her, you told her you were a murderer, so was your husband, you were ready to kill again and furthermore you had a weird episode making you say that someone was digging Alastor’s father from his grave, you needed to explain yourself.

“ Alice, did you really think I was going to come to you and say: Oh guess what, I killed a disgusting pig today.  What would you have said?”

“ Want to kill another one?” she giggled, making you sigh with a smile.

“ Alice…”

“ Sorry. I.. I would have been surprised, I won’t lie. I’m still am. But, you did it because he hurted Alastor right? I feel like you killed him because you wanted to protect someone not for your own enjoyment which I would not say the same for Alastor. I knew he was twisted, I’ve told you !” she sat up, holding a pillow against her chest. “ I should have made a fucking bet.”

“ You aren’t.. scared of him?”

“ There will be a cold day in hell before this man makes me feel any kind of emotion but anger and disgust.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Both of them were so full of themselves they couldn’t see how similar they could be. You sat on a chair, next to her bed. Because of what happened, Alice said to her father that she was feeling very sick and that she couldn't get out. 

It was Alastor’s plan, Alice needed to stay at home while he would stalk your new prey. Alice wasn’t happy with that, she was scared the man would show the picture of her and Alyzée kissing but Alastor reassured her. That type of man is the kind to think he already won. He was feeling superior by trapping Alice like this, so he would be patient without being aware you were making a plan to eviscerate him.

“I know Alastor doesn’t want me to know your plan but… Do you think I could come before you kill him?” you almost broke your neck as you heard Alice’s question. “ Don’t look at me like that! I just want him to know you are coming from me.”

“ Don’t worry, I’ll send him your regards.” you mocked her with a fond smile. “ Now, Alastor and I will be going to your cottage to make the perfect plan, no one will be there, right?”

“ No one is ever there! That’s why I want you to buy it.” she sighed deeply, falling into her bed once more like the dramatic person she was. “ But yes, don’t worry, nobody will hear your.. plan to kill my pig.”

You smiled behind your hand, you were excited to go back to the cottage, it was yours and Alastor’s sacred place in a way. 

You stood up but froze when you felt a shiver going down your spine, your vision getting blurry. You sat back down, closing your eyes. Did you stand up too quickly? Maybe you needed to eat a lot of sugar, to Alastor’s disgust. 

You heard footsteps and once again a shovel going into the grounds. Were you having another vision?  You tried to see something, but you could only hear.  You could hear a dog barking and a man telling him to shut it. 

Fuck, was someone once again trying to dig up Alastor’s father?

You opened your eyes in shock. Alice was looking at you, her hand not too far from your shoulder. 

“ Are you okay, doll?”

“ I’m doing just fine.. I… I need to go but we will see each other Monday, I promise.” you hugged her quickly and ran out of the room. You waved at the butler and ran out in the busy streets. 

Damn it, damn, damn it !

Alastor was working right now, you didn’t have the time to tell him, you would go alone this time and immediately. You ran as fast as you could toward Marie’s place, which took you about 25 minutes. You were breathing hard, running in heels wasn’t your best idea but who cared right now. You entered the woods, looking for footprints which you easily found. You followed them even if you knew where you were supposed to go.

As you approached you could hear a dog barking. You stopped walking, hiding behind a tree. Should you invoke a spirit, in case you needed to fight..? It was too risky, you didn’t know if you could maintain the link with the spirit if you were to fight. You would have to go the hard way. 

You took a deep breath and walked toward the man who had his back turned to you, digging into the hole where Alastor’s father was hidden. The dog stopped barking as he saw you and wagged his tail happily. You remembered him, you know whose dog it was.

“ John.”

The man froze before turning his head toward you. It was John. He stared at you before going out of the hole.

“ What are you doing here?”

“ I could ask you the same question. Why would a lady like yourself be deep in the forest, all alone?”

“ Maybe because you are on my husband's property.” you spat at him. “ Should I call a policeman to take you back home?”

“He is not your husband yet.” He showed you his badge. “ I’m working with your father on the disappearance of Alastor’s father. You should thank me.” he smirked before looking at you, you could see fondness in his eyes which disgusted you.

“ Then, why are you wasting your time here?” you needed to calm down. No need to stress. John wouldn’t find anything here. 

“ Well, I think Alastor has something to do with his father’s disappearance.”

“ You’re so obsessed with us it makes you look stupid.”

“ Come on, Alastor is not a man to be wed to! You know that, sweetheart, and I’ll prove it to you! He must have put a spell on you or something ! Black people and their magic voodoo shit!” he spat, tugging at his hair. You stepped back, since when John was like that. He sighed before going back into the hole. “ But if you are so sure of Alastor’s innocence, why don’t you come and help me?” 

You approached him as he took his shovel and started digging. How would you kill him while making it look like an accident? You would have to take care of the dog too… You stared at John’s back. How should you kill him? How? How? How?

“ Well, what do we have here?” he put the shovel next to your feet as he kneeled, taking something from the ground.

You could take the shovel and hit him until he wouldn’t be moving anymore. He already dug his own grave, it just needed his body. You crouched slowly, moving your hand toward the shovel, keeping your eyes on John.

“ The fuck? Is that a fucking deer ?”

What?

…

You frowned before looking in the hole and gasped. Underneath John was a dead deer. You put your hand on your nose, the smell being too much for you. You took a few steps back as the dog started barking at the dead animal. 

What was going on? You couldn’t smell anything but the deer’s corpse right now. Where was Alastor’s father’s corpse ? Did Alastor come back here to move it ? No, he wouldn’t have the time. 

You watched as John went out of the hole, seeming agitated. You tried to hide your smile, relieved.

“ So, John, did you find what you were looking for ?” you asked, tilting your head. He looked at you, frowning. “ Because, as I’m aware, you need a warrant to be on someone’s property, which you don’t seem to have.” your smile grew wider as you saw John’s expression turned sour. You had him. “ So, I’ll ask you gently to get out of my husband’s property.”

“ He isn’t your husband yet!” he shouted.

“ He will !” you screamed back. “ I will accept him in front of our friends, in front of God.” you smirked as you saw his face flushed from anger. “ And there is nothing you can do about it.”

“ He won’t have you. He won–”

“ He already had me.”

You stared at his face. He seemed paler than seconds ago. He was looking at you, his eyes wide open.

“ What… What do you mean?”

“ He already had me. Right here actually.” you showed the place where John was standing, making him stumble back. “ I accepted him in the deepest part of me.”

“ Stop…”

“ All I had to do was lay there as he tasted me…”

“ Stop..!”

“ As he made me his.”

“ Stop !” he shouted tugging at his hair, his eyes looking at anywhere but you. “ Look at what he has done to you ! He turned you into some kind of harlot…! But it’s okay, I would still take you as my wife.” he smiled at you as he held his hand toward your direction. “You’ll live a life by my side as a proper lady.”

You approached him, looking at his smile grew wider. You slapped his hands away before hissing at his face.

“ Listen to me one last time. Alastor shall be my husband, no one is going to change that fact. I will be his wife, tending to all his needs. If he wants me as a slut, I’ll be the best whore New Orleans has never seen, but it will be for his eyes only.  Only for him. I will be his wife, I’ll bring his child into this world with pure joy and pride.” you stared at him coldly as he looked at you, seeming afraid. “ This body of mine was his before you even knew your so-called feelings for me.” you frowned as you saw him looking at your body with envy and jealousy.

Oh.

Of course, he was jealous of Alastor. You almost rolled your eyes at him.

“ This body is marked as his. Inside and out.” you stared at him, hoping he would finally get the message.

“ Inside..?” he stared at you, blushing. 

“ I told you, didn't I? He took me just here, and I’m known to be greedy right? I wanted all of him, so I accepted his seeds inside of me.” you gasped as he took you by the shoulders. His face was so close, you could see in his eyes how excited your last sentence made him feel. What was he…?

“ Don’t bear his failed children, why would you stay with him when you could have a perfect life with me?”

“ A perfect life with you?” you roared a laugh, tilting your head back. How pathetic this man was ready to be ? “ I already have everything I need, do not worry.” you put your hand around his throat, you could feel yourself buzzing with energy. “ But I dare you to try and take my happiness away, I’ll make your life a never ending hell.” you were smiling at him, with a big grin even though your eyes weren’t blinking anymore, just staring at him.

“ You almost look like him..” he said, whispering. “ But I’ll show you, he is nothing more but a monster. And no matter how hard you are fighting right now, when you see I was right, I’ll accept you. “ 

You could strangle him right now. Your hands were around his throat, you could just kill him. You could push his body with the deer, nobody would find out.

You took a step back, staring at his eyes.

“ I shall never be yours, not as long as I breathe. Now, leave before I lose what’s left of my sanity.” You stared at him as he took his shovel and his dog before leaving, after giving you one last look. 

As Alice said, if you were to kill, it was to protect someone or something. If killing John meant protecting Alastor and your relation with him, then you’ll have to dig another hole for him to fall into.

When you arrived at your place, you hugged your father who seemed so tired, it made you feel guilty.

You stayed there for a long time, thinking about John, the dead deer and Alastor. First, you needed to go back home to prepare your things for this weekend in the cottage. You would explain everything to Alastor once you are safely hidden from the rest of the world. You went back home, not running this time. You were walking, taking your time, thinking about a plan.

“ How is my princess doing ?”

“ I’m doing great… Dad, why is John on Alastor’s father’s case?”

“ Well, you weren’t supposed to know but John made it into the police. He succeeded and got his diploma. He has always been an intelligent fella… But it seems like you aren’t friends anymore, am I wrong?”

“ Let’s just say that the farest he is from me, the better.” you sighed before looking at your father. “ So, he has three months to find something or I can get married?” you watched your father nod. “ He should be careful, we never know, an accident can come so easily…” you whispered before going into the bathroom. You undressed and filled the tub with hot water. You slid into it, sighing with bliss.

You played with the water, thinking about John. He was an obstacle… After taking care of Alice’s problems, you’ll have to take care of another. 

You didn’t notice your image in the water, showing your reflection with a big smile and deep crimson eyes.

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[yorsgirl]

I am taking heads . Oh?

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Maybe, just maybe - you can find common ground while working with your boyfriend. Or maybe not. Who cares anyway when you can have him fulfilling your carnal desires.

Tropes: Established relationship, smut

Warnings: Explicit smut, cunnilingus, heavy kissing, heated foreplay, slight fluff, college boy!Sukuna, kinda toxic relationship, No curse AU, strong language, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: I liked writing their dynamic in the first part and I wanted to delve into it more but this part contains more chemistry than smut, so here you go. Enjoy! (can be read as a stand alone)

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

<Part 1 - Fuck you . Gladly>

While the Gods were creating the list of unfortunate individuals, your name must have been the first.

Exaggeration? No. Truly? Well, maybe to a certain extent.

But you have to accept that you are unfortunate. Like duh! Final year of college and your professor decides to gift you with a partner project. One which you can't afford to overlook since it contributed thirty percent to your yearly grade. (Not that you'd consider bypassing it in the first place.)

While you could glide through solo projects just fine, the stakes arise when you have to work with someone else. More so, a partner – could be any of your classmates but as the professors are just so good, they already made up pairs on their own. To your luck, guess who would be your partner? Cutting the chase, here's the answer – Ryomen Fucking Sukuna.

Your gaze shifts to the back of the classroom where the aforementioned man is seated. To your astonishment, you find him returning your gaze. This silent staring match lasts for merely five seconds before his lips curve into a chesire smirk.

The sheer audacity.

You redirect your attention back to the front, a palpable scowl etched onto your features. While ostensibly directed at the professor, the true recipient of this expression is the one who caused it in the first place. Simpler words – a man with salmon hair, adorned with numerous tattoos who happens to be your boyfriend.

Barely two months had elapsed since you started this thing– relationship with Sukuna. While it should be counted as the honeymoon phase of any relationship, it was far from yours. This wouldn't even qualify as a conventional relationship to begin with.

Casual sex, casual relationship, no strings attached. Few labels if one wishes to name it.

Is it your idea for an ideal relationship? Most probably not.

Did this relationship achieve the aim of it? Most definitely.

Hence, you are here.

After your professor winds up the lecture and your classmates are on their cue to disperse out of the hall, you purposefully stride over to Sukuna. You stand before his desk, arms crossed over your chest as you start, "So–"

His crimson eyes flicker over to you, lips quirking into a grin, "Well well, fancy meeting you, princess."

Your eyebrow twitches in irritation still you let out a breath to calm your nerves. "I told you not to call me that in public."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Mhm, nah. Don't remember, don't care."

This fucking asshole. 

You grit your teeth, glaring at him which he returned with a smug smirk. You pinch the bridge of your nose, constantly reminding yourself on why you are here. After you're done with your pep talk, you start again, "See, I will not beat around the bush. We've that project–"

"A shitty project," He rolls his eyes, resting his face on his knuckles. "Do it yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"No, I didn't," You scoff. "What the hell do you mean by – do it yourself? For your information, its a P. A. R. T. N. E R. partner project. You've to put in your efforts too."

"I know what a partner project means, woman. I am not doing it."

You lean in, placing your hand on his desk, "You want to fail this course?"

"Oh no, no," He clicks his tongue. "Aren't you my partner, princess? Sure, you can do extra work for your boyfriend."

Fuck this stupid asshole. Which sin did you commit to get punished like this?

"How convenient," Your lips stretch into a grin. "What more? Do you want me to write your exams as well?"

He raises an eyebrow, "You like me that much?"

"I hate you and I mean it this time."

"So you don't the other times?"

This guy...

Your nose crinkles "Fuck you."

"Here? Didn't know were into exhibitionism." 

"Oh fuck off."  You retort, placing your hands on your hips. "You know," the corner of your lip quirks up, "There are six million nerves in one's body. How do you manage to get on each one of them?"

"What can I say? I am just naturally gifted." 

"Right, such a shame we don't hand out Nobel Prize for arrogance."

That earns you a scornful glare from Sukuna while you stifle the grin that stretches up your lips; failing miserably. One win - fantastic. You breathe out heavily, shaking your head, "See, I am not doing your portion of work and if you're so adamant about not doing basic research then be my guest. You can fail."

Sukuna returns an expression that could be counted as least bothered before adding, "You will fail too." 

"I wouldn't mind a red mark on my annual report."

You will. You very much will.

Counting back to the time you almost got a seventy in the parasitology exam in third year, you didn't step out of your room for two days. But he doesn't need to know that.

Sukuna, for some reason, doesn't counter that. You take it as your cue and continue, "Five-thirty, evening, at the cafeteria, today. Don't be late."

"Rather a casual way of asking me out on a date but I accept." He muses, a smirk curving up on his lips.

You sigh and lean back, "Call it whatever. Don't be late." You rotate on your heels as you descend the broad stairs of the lecture hall. You turn one last time, he's still in the same place – gathering up his things. "If you are then you're doing extra work." With that, you flung your bag over your shoulder and walk out of the hall.

Hopefully, he will show up.

.

Surprisingly, Sukuna does show up.

No, not so. He shows up before you do. When you step into the cafeteria, looking for a suitable table, when you locate the man occupying one at the far end of the room.

You have to veil your utter shock under a mask of nonchalance cause you were ninety-nine percent sure that you'd have to drag him here. Yes, in no way in hell are you doing all of this work alone. At the same time, you wonder if you do even have the strength to drag him in the first place. Instead of pondering on matters of what could've been, you push it away and stride towards him.

His eyes land on you when you walk up to him, putting his phone down in the process. "So you'll be doing extra work for showing up late?"

"I am not late." You counter, taking a seat across from him, switching on your phone for a brief second, you check the time. "Its five twenty-eight. You are too early."

"You wanted me to be late?"

"No, fine. You are fine." You shrug, leaning back on the chair while taking out the required notes and books. Though a thought does conjure up your mind and you murmur to yourself, "I thought you wouldn't show up."

It does reach his ear causing him to cast the smirk your way, "I can't deny my princess now, can I?"

Inadvertently, you smirk too. However, you keep your attention on the notes in your hand. You assume he has taken notice of it cause a snicker escalates but he doesn't comment any further. Yet, you have to divert his attention that he managed to amuse you so you clear your throat and start, "I am feeling generous today so you can input whatever topic you have in mind."

"Ah, yes. I am so honored." He replies with an evident lace of sarcasm in his tone.

"You should be."

For the next half an hour, its a blur of discussion on which topic would be more suitable on this project. It isn't a surprise when you find, working with Sukuna on coursework more bearable than you'd have expected it to be. Given, you knew he was a hard worker and really smart; now, only if he could get down from his high horse.

After crossing out the obvious topics, which both of you can pretty much agree cannot give you a decent score. That brings you here, two topics – implementation of robotics in medical science OR thermodynamic mechanisms in spaceships.

"See," You start, "All I am saying is that robotics would make a better topic. It's coming of age but less researched, choosing something uncommon–"

"It's exactly the reason of it being uncommon that we shouldn't go with it." Sukuna interrupts you, before you can finish as he crosses his arms over his chest. "More reason, to go with thermodynamics."

"That's too much of a common ground, almost everyone would be selecting it. Out of laziness or interest, no one would know."

He breathes out heavily, rolling his eyes, "If that's your only problem then get over it." The offense is clearly marked on your expression but before you can speak, Sukuna continues, "We have to write this project. Write as in mention correct facts not fuck around and make up shit which we would definitely have to cause your topic is already less researched or in your words – coming of age."

He does make a good point. A brand new topic will have the disadvantage of you having to work on limited materials, some of which might even prove to be false considering the internet is full of shit. You sigh and mutter, "Ugh, fine." He raises an eyebrow and you reach for your purse. "Time for showdown."

"What? You're taking out any guns or shit." He narrows his eyes at you receiving a smug smile in return.

"If I had to kill you, I'd you poison. It's more sophisticated."

"I'd expect you to be the last person to know a thing about sophistication, given your smartmouth."

You dig through your purse, looking for the required item, simultaneously adding, "Doesn't hold a candle before your narcissim."

"See, this is what I am talking about. You always need to get the last word."

"Just my signature sign-off," A sarcastic smile plays on your lips when your eyes shifts to him. He just stares back with a disinterested scowl. You shake your head, "Anyways, we'll be tossing."

"Seriously?" Disbelief is marked heavy on his visage. "You want to decide our project on some pesky toss?"

"Uh huh," You affirm, running your fingers through your hair, "I am already partnered with you. How worse can it get?"

"Fair."

"I am taking heads."

"Oh?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Sukuna. Keep it PG-13." The clogs run in your mind and you shoot him a scornful glare.

"Never was in the first place." He muses, reaching for the coin in your hand which you pass to him without hesitation.

Sukuna holds the coin over his thumb before a jerk sent it flying upwards, the silver of the metal gleams with the setting sun before descending downwards. His forearms flex and with a precise snap of his wrist, he catches the coin on his waiting palm, clasping the other over it; for it to remain hidden. He rotates his wrists again, bringing it to the center of the table where he removes his upper hand.

Tails.

"I win."

There's a brief pause, no words spoken from your side which incites him to take a glance at you. He finds you staring at him with a bewildered expression while your lips are parted. Yet, your eyes aren't cast over to the coin in his hand, more so to him.

His eyebrow furrows and he snaps his finger in front of you, "Oi, wake up." Works wonders as it breaks your trance but causes you to recoil back with a gasp.

"H-Huh? What? What happened?"

Sukuna only answers with passing the coin back to you, with the tails side on display and you get the hint.

"F-Fine." You cough, refusing to meet his gaze. Only hoping that he wouldn't make a comment on your initial zone-out stance. You cough again, reaching for the water to take a gulp before typing in on your laptop. "Hm, so what? Thermodynamics in rockets, was it?"

Sukuna knits his eyebrow, leaning front, his fingers interlocking together, "Wow, no arguments?"

"No."

"Not even a smart mouth comeback?"

"No."

"What a character development."

His tone drips with sarcasm but you're far down the road to comment on it. Besides with the heat rushing up your face, its better if you keep conversations to a minimum for now.

.

New day, new shit.

Did you think Yorozu clinging onto your boyfriend like a leech was bad? Surprise, surprise! No. It's worse when she's set her eyes on you.

Currently, she stands before you; glaring at you like you've committed some arson. She narrows her eyes at you, "Aren't you the girl who's tagging with my sukuna?"

"I have a name. Its–"

"Don't care," She dismisses with a wave. "What relation do you have with him?"

You press your lips into a thin line, already contemplating the question of – Is holding a conversation with her worth it? Chances are none. However, considering you and Sukuna never mentioned your relationship to anyone explicitly, so its obvious as to why she'll pine for him.

You sigh and start, "Well, I am his–"

"You know what, It doesn't even matter."

Is it her aim to ask you questions only to not hear them in the end?

"But," The girl continues, a warning scowl directed at you, "If you think you've got any chance with him then let me burst your bubble, sweetheart." An eerie grin plays on her lips, "You don't."

Alright, why is she acting like the mean girls from the 90s soap opera?

"Sure," You mutter, tilting your head aside. Though it's a confirmation of her statement, you tone indicates confusion.

Her eyebrows scrunch up as she takes a step towards you. "Sure? That's it? You're not gonna say anything else."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Like literally anything."

"Haven't got anything to say, to be honest."

A silence befalls over the both of you. While you are overwhelmed by the awkward tension of this situation, Yorozu only looks at you like you've uttered the greatest blasphemy.

"So may I–"

"Aren't you trying your chances on him?"

She's still stuck on that? You mentally sigh, racking your mind through all the responses that will stop this confrontation for today and the coming of days. Just then, you find the perfect response.

A smirk stretches on your lips as you take a short glance at the beauty in front of you.

"To be honest, no. Absolutely not. I am least interested in him," You shrug, inching closer to her. Reaching out a hand, you caress the soft skin on her chin, tilting it to your stature. "You see, my dear. The one, I want– hm, its you."

"Excuse me?" The look on her face in pure art as she stumbles a few steps back, removing your hand from her, horror evident on her mien.

You push your hand inside your pocket as you lean back. Bedroom eyes directed at her with a suggestive smile. "You heard me, darling. Ah– aren't you just the prettiest?"

That isn't a lie. You have to give it to her, she's one of the most beautiful girls you've seen till date. Hair as black as midnight, sleek and flowing like an endless river while brown eyes that shone under sunlight. Only problem? Her damn infuriating personality. If only she could fix it now...

Perhaps, in another realm– another life - it'd be you and her.

"Say," You continue, "Why don't I take you out? This friday? Sounds nice, right?" You gather a note and your pen, scribbling something on it.

"Absolutely not. Stay the fuck away from me."

"Oh come on," You snort, tearing the note as you push it onto her hand. "Just one date. I swear, you won't regret it."

"No. And what the hell is this?"

"That's my number. Text me later, doll."

With a swift turn of your heels, you walk away from her. Not before shooting a suggestive wink her way.

.

How did an argument about chopping carrots escalate to Sukuna eating you out on the counter top?

Recounting back to twenty minutes ago, you were standing in your shared kitchen with Sukuna while the latter chided you on how you were so fucking incompetent in using a damn knife. That might hold true, given your chopping skills were negligible and on the other hand, Sukuna just knew how to use that blade like he's using it for a thousand years. You were effectively fuming inwardly as you decided to strut out of the kitchen while throwing profanities under your breath. To your luck, or your clumsiness – you hit yourself with the doorframe. 

That's the reason you were sitting on the counter top with Sukuna standing between your legs as he pressed a ice pack on your forehead.

"Do you always have to make a bad situation worse?" He glares down at you, pressing down the ice pack a little too much.

"I don't make a habit out of it," You reply following a hiss in pain. He reduces the pressure, angling the bag on a better posture.

You don't speak after that, neither does he add anything more; solely focusing on the light blemish on your forehead. However, the silence that falls over is far from comforting.

The air hangs heavy in the room puncturting only by the soft whispers of both of your breath. Sukuna stood uncomfortably close; a palpable weight to your very being. His heady scent of musk and spice wafts over you, enveloping all your senses. His calloused hand gripped your thigh firmly, keeping you restricted to that certain posture; you couldn't resist the shiver that went down your spine. The tension grew heavy hot and heavy–near suffocating.

One of the sweatbeads clinging to a strand of his hair, drips down, resting on the dark tattooed skin. You take a note of how his adam's apple bobs – sound audible and action agonizingly slow. An sting of electricity shoots down to your core, only a mesh of garment separating your crotch from his.

Why does any close proximity with him bring out these electrifying sensations? Like a black hole, pulling you with a greater force than the last.

His eyes were trained on you, drinking in every inch of what you are. The sheer intensity of it settled a blockage in your lungs–rendering your ability to breath freely. Your heart thumped in your ribcage like a drum while your fingers pressed onto the counter edge.

Refusing to meet his carmine eyes, you wondered if this heat was only a notion of yours or did he feel it too?

"You know... professor was satisfied with our work– that project, I mean." Licking your lips, you let out a deep breath. It was the silence. Only the silence, you tell yourself. Maybe a chance at conversation would dissipate it.

Seemed like, your partner had no interest in continuing one with you as he only answered with a hum.

That doesn't help any way, more so adds fuel to your burning desires. The deep, guttural hum rings in your ears, a flurry of goosebumps arise on your arms, your stomach churned with a carnal urge.

Yet, you refrained from making any unnecessary actions; that proved to be a task in itself.

Few droplets of cool water trickle down your cheek to your throat–belonging to the melting ice, pressed on your forehead. That ache is long gone, reaching for his wrist, you tug it away. "It's fi– hah!"

Sukuna's lips were on your neck as he sucked on its supple flesh; the same region where those beads of water had trickled down. For in his wake, those beads glistening over your skin were the only drink that could quench his thirst. His teeth grazed over the pulse point of your neck, sinking his teeth down on it, inciting a raspy moan from you.

Sukuna captured your nape in his hand, grip firm yet not a flicker of harshness. His lips found the hollow of your neck, he presses his mouth down on the tender skin. Savoring the taste as he glides his tongue to your collarbone.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the very first sensation, hands fisted over his shirt, you tugged him closer. A breathy moan left your lips, trying to clench your legs as heat pooled down in your core. "Sukuna."

"I've been waiting to taste you for so long." He muttered near your ear, warm breath falling on your earlobe as he subtly tugged it.

The cool metal of his tongue piercing sets down like a sharp contrast against your heated skin. His left hand brushes over the hem of skirt, squeezing your thighs. He pulled you closer to himself, kisses trailing up from your jaw to the corner of your lips. He stared at you. Stare as in look. He looked at you, fishing out every bit of details that he might have missed the last times. There's more. There always more.

From the way you've clamped your eyes shut to the curve of your nose or to the structure of your cheek to the way your chest rises and fall as you breath. He takes the note of how the skin of your neck had tried slightly red from his previous assault. He cups your cheek, tilting your face towards him. When he speaks, its a low whisper, "Look at me."

On cue you open your eyes. His eyes burn with a primal desire akin to an untamed beast whose very essence is filled with lust. He is staring at you with the burning passion in which you are burning as well. You don't know, what came over you but you say his name again.

"Sukuna."

.

Maybe he was just waiting for that.

He takes your mouth in his with a force anyone could only imagine. The sheer impact of your head tipping back to hit the concrete is shielded by his hand which runs through the locks of your hair. A slight ache rest over his knuckles but he is more concerned with the way you taste as he delves into you, lapping and swirling his tongue with yours.

The moan that escapes your mouth causes him to smirk. His hand slides inside your skirt as he runs his fingers over the fabric of your panties. His eyebrows furrow feeling the soaked garment as he pulls away from the kiss for a brief second, lips still brushing with yours.

"Wet already?"

The rush of blood to your cheeks is a sight to behold as you consciously try to avoid his piercing gaze. One which he'd have taken the moment to carve a picture out in his mind but not today. Not now. His hunger for you is far greater.

So his mouth find yours again.

He bits down on your lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood, leaving it only at the last second when you hiss in pain. He licks on the flesh, sucking on it altogether. When he leaves you – your lower lip is puffed out. Yet, a side of him wishes to know what would your blood taste like? As saccharine as your pleasurable release? Or like the musk salty sweat of your skin?

While that desire would have to see the light of day another time, he believes he can be satisfied with what he has tasted before yet not. For your skin and lips was a dish in itself, he is aiming for dessert.

Hooking his thumb under the waistband of your panties, he says, "Lift." You buckle your hips up, balancing your weight with your hands on the counter top, he slides out the garment before discarding somewhere.

Sukuna kneels down in front of you, eyes at the perfect level of your cavern leaking with arousal. He spreads your legs wider, no way is anything blocking this delicious sight or his meal. Not even you.

He licks over the entrance of your pussy, a brief moan escalating from you causing his cock to strain against his briefs. With his thumb and forefinger, he spreads your lips apart watching how your juice glisten down. With a flick of his tongue, he swipes a teasing, wet trail over your already swollen clit.

A slow circuit forms as he in literal sense toys with you; lapping and swirling his tongue over your hardened bud. Waves of pleasure shoot through your body, nails hurting from digging into the hard counter top. Your toes curl as you arch your back forward. His tongue piercing works wonder on your core, you bit your lip yet the whine escapes, "Ahh– Fuck– stop teasing me, Sukuna."

"Let me enjoy my meal, princess." He muses, inching closer. He slides a finger inside you, curling it inside you while his mouth works simultaneously on your core. Feasting like no one else.

You tip your head back, crying out like waves of pleasure hit you. "Yes, li-like that– fuck, please Sukuna. D-don't stop."

"Your wish is my command princess." He nips at your sensitive flesh, drawing another moan from you. Though this meal is more lavish than anyother, his cock painfully strains against his garments – begging for release. Begging to be inside you.

Sukuna slides his finger in and out of you before adding another. The added stimulation has your eyes rolling back inside your head, your hand finds it's way to his hair, tugging on the locks as you push him forward.

A groan escapes his lips, tongue and fingers drawing a rhythm which sends you over the edge. A sheen of sweat rests over your body while Sukuna, purposefully French kisses your clit. Your eyes widen with pure ecstasy, body convulsing as you cry our giving into your orgasm.

Sukuna licks up your release before getting uo from the floor. A devilish grin resting on his lips, eyes glinting with desires of his own. If he had his phone, he'd just click your spent up form, keeping it with him as a memory. Face flushed, legs spread wide as a trail of drool runs down your mouth. You try to catch your breath.

"What? Tired already? Too bad, I am not done with you."

.

BONUS

"By the way, I am taking out Yorozu on a date this friday."

"How wonderful. Enjoy."

A/N: Just imagine, Sukuna tossing a coin in front of you. His forearms and wrists are exposed with the tattoos as they flex when he snaps his hand to catch the falling coin... See that? See what I am talking about? No, try again. See it, now? Yes? Good. This will live in my mind rent free now.

Anyways, thank you for reading. Likes and feedbacks are appreciated <3

P.S: lmk if anyone wants to read about reader's date with Yorozu (please do cause I need an excuse to write it and I just wanna know if y'all are interested 🥹)

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna fanfiction

[bsxcrxts]

I hate to sound like a broken record but I would love to hear a Drabble about tech w the pollen, like if you were both crushing really hard on each other and you wanted to spend time with him while he works on his studies and oops what's this jar of mysterious flower blossoms doing here in this little jar (be it tech or reader makes that mistake) and things happen

I am deeply sorry this comes like three months late 😭 but as my beloved TBB mutual and fellow sex pollen freak (affectionate) I owe this one to you and hope you enjoy <3

The Experiment - Tech x F!Reader

Content: 18+ MINORS DNI. basically the prompt! afab reader with gendered language (ie good girl), sex pollen (obvi lol), getting together, Tech being sweet in his own way, unprotected PiV, coming inside, praise kink (both ways tbh), workroom table sex (ooh fun) A/N: So much made up science in this fic. And a complete lack of safety protocols. For the plot. lol. Word Count: 2.9k :)

You poke your head into the room where Tech is deeply engrossed in whatever he's typing away on his datapad. He doesn't look up as you move across the space, but he greets you with a little nod of his head as you lean on the tabletop across from him a bit. You wouldn't interrupt him while he was this focused if you were any more of a stranger to him; in fact, you feel a little bit odd doing it even now, but you and Tech spend a lot of time together. He seems to generally welcome you hanging around his workstation, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was sometimes even a bit giddy to see you, happy to have someone around to listen to his long-winded scientific explanations.

"Am I bothering you?" you ask, watching him set his datapad down to start to tinker with a type of device you've never seen before. It seems likely that it's something chemistry related; another device attached to it appears to be malfunctioning.

"It's not possible for you to bother me by merely observing as I work," Tech says. "You are not disturbing me. I actually prefer your presence over others."

You feel a bit of heat rise to your cheeks but stay quiet, other than uttering a small thank you. Your feelings for Tech have only started to grow after you've begun keeping him company as he works, but you've always had a bit of a crush on him. It's hard to focus, sometimes, when he compliments you like that, though you tend to assure yourself it's often platonic or even accidental. Tech often blatantly states what's on his mind, so if he really liked you... wouldn't he have told you by now?

You watch his hands as he works, allowing yourself to be distracted. After a few moments, your curiosity about whatever he's studying gets the best of you.

"So what's that?" you ask, gesturing to a small jar sitting nearest you, across the table from Tech. There are flowers in the jar, incredibly red, and an abundance of blooms settled on the bottom of the jar. "Something you picked up while you've been out on missions?"

Tech looks up from his work finally, eyes settling on you. "Yes, that is a native plant species on an outer rim planet we briefly visited. It was implied to me there by the locals that the flowers could be used as a type of weapon, but I cannot identify the reasoning behind that assumption."

"The flowers aren't poisonous or toxic or... something?"

"The local fauna are not avoidant towards the blooms, nor can I find any documentation of such qualities. In fact, I can hardly find documentation on this species at all. So, I am aiming do my own experiment on the flowers myself, but first I had to calibrate some of this equipment."

You nod. "And you're... sure this is safe for you?" You venture. You know him well enough to understand that both he and the rest of his squad are well-known risk takers.

"The blooms should be, at a minimum, safe to handle. Myself as well as the locals touched them when I first acquired them with no ill effects. My hypothesis is that the bloom must be heavily concentrated or ingested to be considered dangerous," he answers, tone even and betraying no concern.

"Alright," you say, shrugging, trusting him. Tech is incredibly smart, he is very rarely wrong, and you're no toxicologist either; you know even less than he does about this mystery plant.

Tech looks up at you again, the final piece on the equipment clicking into place in his hands. "Would you like to assist me on some of the easier steps of this experiment?"

"Just the 'easier' steps, huh?" you laugh. You push back a little at the perceived dig at your own intelligence.

"I assume there is still a level of risk once the plant is processed, and before I identify any toxicity levels that may possibly arise, which you may find unacceptable to be involved in. And one which the thought of exposing you to unnecessarily, does not sit well with me." Tech corrects you in a straightforward but not unkind manner, then states plainly, "However, I didn't want to exclude you entirely."

The heat comes rushing back to your face. In his voice, in his cadence, knowing him how you do, it sounds like a compliment again. Tech looks up at you from where he sits so genuinely, waiting for your answer, seemingly oblivious to your flustered state.

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll help you."

"In that case, please hand me a few of the blossoms," he asks. You reach for the jar, unscrewing the lid, almost reverently retrieving a few flowers. Nothing happens as you handle them, and subconsciously, you relax.

The blooms are pretty, really. Vibrant and delicate. You look at them in your palm, almost transfixed as you reach your hand out to Tech. Your hand brushes against his, only barely, as the blooms leave your grasp, but that's when it happens.

It's almost comical, how fast you yank your hand away, a small cloud of pollen suddenly erupting from the center of the flower in Tech's hand, a little poof of yellow dust settling in the air. He rushes to the door, sealing any contamination to this room.

"What was that?" you ask, nervously.

"I am... unsure," Tech admits. "I have never seen it happen. The blossoms appear to have a volatile method of dispersing their pollen."

"Is it dangerous?"

Tech is uncharacteristically quiet, typing rapidly on his datapad.

"Tech," you demand a bit, feeling wary, a warmth spreading through your body. It isn't necessarily unpleasant, not yet, but your uneasiness has set you on edge.

"The locals claimed it could 'make anyone do anything'..." he trails off. "It is possible," he hesitates, "that I have misinterpreted this flower's use as a weapon, and instead, it is a libidinous agent."

"What does that mean," you ask, feeling a bit helpless.

"It could be an aphrodisiac," he explains neutrally, but his brow is furrowed. "Either way, we will find out shortly."

You bite your lip. The relief you feel of the blossoms not likely being poisonous is quickly replaced by a bit of a panic at being doused by a sex pollen and essentially quarantined with the man you've been crushing on for months. The feeling of warmth from earlier has morphed into a burn, a need, sitting low in the pit of your stomach.

Tech is still typing away on his datapad, but he has turned his body away from you. His posture, usually terrible, is worse than ever, as he is practically hunched over the screen, rapidly typing something.

"So, uh," you say, feeling a discomfort between your thighs form, "what do we do?" you ask, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, sitting on the edge of the table to prevent your knees from giving out. You cross and uncross your legs mindlessly, trying to appear normal, as if unaffected by the pollen.

It isn't easy. You've been attracted to Tech for a long time. Resisting the pull to him is hard even when you're not drugged.

"There is no known cure for the effects we are experiencing, as there is no record of the effects themselves, so we have little choice but to let the pollen take its course. I am documenting my symptoms. I suggest we also document yours."

"Tech, I don't think–" you start, then sigh. "Okay, um, I have a headache, and tenseness in my muscles, and a burning sensation everywhere, I mean, it feels really, really hot in here, and... I honestly don't think I should talk about the rest." You fidget again, squirming against the table. The arousal building in your body is nearly unbearable, but you resist rocking your hips against the table in the way you want to.

Tech turns to look at you, his brown eyes narrowing behind the amber of his goggles. His eyes actually trail down your body to where your legs meet your hips, and you have to physically turn away from him before you say something rash.

You know it's impossible to hide the other symptoms from him, because you've both inhaled the pollen. He knows exactly how you're feeling. You know exactly how he is feeling. You know if you looked at him, you'd see a bulge in his black under-armor, and your patience would snap.

Tech continues to stare at you. To almost study you, as you shift in discomfort and need. You can feel it; his watchful gaze on you, in any other situation welcomed, though flustering, now is nearly unbearable. As if you are now the experiment. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see he is equally restless, though his typing on his datapad must be distracting him to some degree. That too, is falling apart, if the way he has sat down and begun bouncing his leg rapidly is any indication.

Do not look at him, your mind screams at you.

Look. LOOK, touch, tell him, tell him everything, your body begs.

You manage to focus on the wall to your left for nearly five minutes straight, which is hardly an impressive number under any other circumstances.

"How long is this feeling going to last?" you choke out.

"It is unlikely I could predict that number with any certainty. It may be that the symptoms never go away, or may drive us to madness without... manual stimulation. That may be the most effective antidote, as it were."

The look on your face must not be embarrassed enough, because he keeps talking.

"These are less than ideal circumstances," Tech starts, "to confess to you the feelings I have for you."

What?

"I have weighed the pros and cons of telling you sooner. I'm somewhat upset with myself that I haven't, as this might not be so awkward now if I had. I've noticed your increased breathing rate around me, as well as your tendency to seem eager to watch my work even when it cannot possibly entertain you. I've repeatedly attempted to compliment you, to subtly show my emotions, though I'm fairly certain it has not landed well. Regardless, I have come to hope that you do return my affection."

You're pretty sure your eyes are as wide as dinner plates as you turn to look at him.

"Unless I am wrong?" Tech offers. He has a vulnerable look on his face; he'd never mess with you like this anyway, you know that, but when you look at him, he appears so genuine and desperate that the dam threatens to break.

"You're not wrong," you say.

"I rarely am."

You can't contain yourself anymore, really. You're across the room and in his lap before you can think; there's not much left of your brain that isn't clouded by either the pollen or Tech's confession to you. And then his mouth is on yours, kissing you and claiming you, heated and direct, and so very different compared to that soft confession he just gave you mere seconds ago.

You grind in his lap, the feeling of his bulge against your already wet and needy cunt almost instantly soothing the burning sensation coursing through your veins. As soon as the feeling fades it returns though, with a vengeance that makes you shudder and moan against him, folding in on yourself. It's not enough, not yet. Under different circumstances, you'd gawk at the bulge in his under-armor, kiss down his body, slow down and really appreciate this.

But you can't. You burn.

"I need you," you whine, and you almost hate how desperate you sound, if not for the fact that it makes Tech's hips buck against your own and his eyes widen.

"Say it again," he requests, but he's already complying, standing to lay you onto the table, tilting you back and pulling your hips to the edge. The pollen is having a great effect on him, too, and he seems unusually impatient; you wonder if things were different if he may have made you wait or beg for his attention.

"I fucking need you," you grit out, still trying to rut against him even positioned like this, back arching whenever his clothed cock manages to bump up against your clit. The layers of your pants and underwear are suddenly the most offensive thing you've ever felt, and you rush to undress, kicking off your lower layers until they're barely on, hanging around one leg. Tech has pulled his cock from his pants, sliding into your waiting cunt with one thrust. It shouldn't be achievable, not with his size, but the pollen has made you so wet and open that you take him effortlessly.

"You f-feel, ah, e-exquisite," Tech sighs. "Take me so well."

You've never heard him stutter before. You can't blame him; everywhere your skin meets his is a feeling of thrill, an almost soothing warmth instead of the awful burning sensation from before.

"Is t-this working for you, love?" Tech continues. "Is this what you needed?"

"Fuck yes," you whine at the new pet name, unsure of how Tech is even thinking clearly enough to be asking you such things as his hips slam into you. Meanwhile you say the first thing that comes to your mind, "Needed you, needed your cock inside me. Always want you s' bad."

Tech almost loses it then, but shudders and slams his hips into you again instead, caught up on the 'always' portion of your statement.

"Good, you're so good," he praises you softly, in direct contrast to the heady and animalistic way he's rutting his cock into you, his hands pinning your thighs open.

You gasp, never thinking you'd see Tech like this. He's typically methodical, precise, but the way he's fucking you right now is anything but. Through the pollen, you don't have the presence of mind to analyze what you thought your first time with Tech would be like; all that matters is how amazing he's making you feel now, the sound of his cock in your wet cunt as his thrusts grow sloppy practically makes your eyes roll back and you whine.

"M'close already," you rush out, the feeling of the effects of the flowers intensifying tenfold. "You feel so, oh–"

The table is digging into your back, the pollen is rushing through both of your veins, you feel crazed, but you've also never felt this good.

"I-I am not going to last either," Tech states, clearly also a mess. His goggles have slipped down his nose and been pushed back haphazardly, and are now slightly askew; his face is flushed, his eyes dilated so wide they're nearly black. He slips a hand to your clit, and, impressed with his clear thinking of your pleasure in spite of the pollen, and the rush of sensation that shoots through you at his touch, it's all you need.

Mere moments later, you clench around him, and the strength of your orgasm is something you've never, ever felt before, by your hand or anyone else's. You moan his name, bearing down hard around his cock, and he nearly doubles over.

"Good girl, good, good girl," he praises you, "Did s-so well for me," he continues, leaning down and murmuring into your ear as you finish, and it sends aftershocks wracking through your body. He's helpless but to follow behind you soon. Now that you've cum, he seems to have surrendered entirely to the brain fog created by the pollen, thrusting into you like nothing else matters, chasing his high.

"W-where?" he stutters again, ever as considerate, though he knows it would take every ounce of his willpower to fight the flower's effects and pull out from your cunt now.

Luckily for him, you don't want him to.

"Inside," you breathe, "Need it inside of me," and it's not an exaggeration, as you can still feel the effects of the pollen trying to return even after you've finished; you're pretty sure you literally need him to cum inside you to be free of the symptoms.

His orgasm is just as strong as yours had been, and he nearly collapses on top of you, shoving his cock into your cunt as you feel him twitch and spill inside of you. Tech's eyes never leave yours; his brow furrows and his mouth falls slightly agape as he maintains eye contact with you while he cums. His beautiful gaze once again feels welcome on your frame. It sends you into another weak orgasm, finishing around him, milking his cock, until he can take it no longer and pulls away from you, collapsing into the chair, leaving you lying on the table. The two of you are silent suddenly, but for both of you panting with exertion.

A few moments pass before you sit up, perched on the edge of the table, and find yourself feeling very vulnerable. You eye Tech, slouched in the chair just a few inches from you, and wordlessly, you slide back down into his lap, where he wraps a tentative arm around your waist.

Another few moments pass before he clears his throat.

"Please forgive me for my miscalculation," he says into your shoulder, pressing a light kiss there.

"What do you mean?"

"I should not have exposed you to danger by underestimating the flower blooms. Something worse may have happened."

"But I really like what did happen."

"As did I," Tech says. "I take it this is not the only time you would entertain such... attention from me?"

"Far from it," you laugh lightheartedly, pulling back from where you've tucked your head over his shoulder to look at him. "But we can skip the flowers next time, since we know how the pollen affects people now." you joke.

"You are not open to more experimentation?" Tech asks.

"Tech," you gasp, mock-offended.

"Kidding, love."

"Well," you hum back, "maybe some pre-negotiated experimentation isn't out of the question."

Tech's eyebrows raise and a little smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. The two of you are going to have so much fun together.

#tech ♥️ #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech smut #tech smut #tbb smut #tbb x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch smut #sorry if this one isn't all that I honestly can't tell if it hits or not😭

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

KINKTOBER (reuploaded)

Pegging (Matt)

Request: none but yall begged for me to bring it back lmao

Warnings: pegging obviously, sub!matt, best friends, bi reader, fingering(male), dual pleasure strap on, use of vibrator, slight edging, use of matty, mommy kink, whiny!matt, 0.2 seconds of matt sucking the strap, i think that’s all, lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: sorry this is a few days late, i’ve been super busy. tomorrow will be posted on time

Y/n’s pov

I was in the kitchen working on my MacBook when my best friend Matt came in and sat across from me. “Hey Matt.” I greeted him without looking up from my computer screen. “Um hi Y/n/n. Can I uh ask you like a really weird and personal question?” he asked. I was a bit confused but nonetheless nodded in agreement, “Sure I guess…” I said while clicking save and closed my laptop to give him my full attention. “I uh- I can’t ask you here, can we go to my room?” he stated nervously, only adding to my confusion.

We got into his room and Matt closed the door behind him, “So you know how you’re bi?” “Oh really, I am? I had no idea!” I replied sarcastically. “Not funny, but like you’re bi, obviously. I um, uh I-I know you have a strap-on…” he stuttered and trailed off. “If your question is why do I have it, I’m going to hit you for being dumb.” I joked, making Matt squirm uncomfortably, “Have you ever, you know, used it on a guy before?” he inquired nervously. “No… Why do you want to know about my sex life you weirdo?” I was suddenly getting a bit flustered because how the hell does Matt know I have a strap-on in the first place and why is he asking me about what I do with it?

“I- uh- I really like y-you and I have um- a fantasy involving you a-and I really want you to do it. Please don’t get mad.” he stated in a rushed tone, stuttering over a few words. I was beyond confused and a bit shocked, “That’s not how I expected this conversation to go. Um, okay, wow- what’s um… what’s this fantasy?” I asked curiously. Matt started to nervously pick at his nails and chew on his lip, avoiding eye contact with me as his cheeks turned pink. “Would you please dom me?” he asked, “And peg me…” he added, saying it so quietly that I almost didn’t hear him.

“What!? Matt are you sure? It’s probably gonna hurt, I’ve-I’ve never done that before. I’ve only ever used it to fuck a girls pussy.” I replied flustered and just as nervous as Matt. He finally looked at me with pleading eyes, “Please? I have lube and I’ve fingered myself before. I’ll be a good boy and listen, I promise!” he begged me. Looking at his face, I reluctantly agreed “I uh- okay, we can try it. I’m just scared I’m going to hurt you.” I told him softly. “You won’t hurt me, it’ll just be uncomfortable at first. I really want this, I’ve thought about it since we were 17. Can we do it tonight? Chris and Nick are going over to a friend’s house.” Matt said quickly, clearly excited that I agreed.

“Sure I guess, but I’m gonna want foreplay beforehand. And I’m probably gonna want to kiss you, like a lot.” I laughed as Matt’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink again. He started looking down again nervously “Can I kiss you right now?” he asked softly, instead of answering I just tilted his head up and captured his lips in a short but sweet kiss. “Mhm, thank you.” he blurted out after, as I got up and made my way to the door. I sent him a wink before going to my own room where I pulled out my strap-on, which happened to be one for dual pleasure, meaning there was a vibrating dildo that went into me as well.

Even though it had already been cleaned after the last time I used it, I decided to clean it again anyway. I also decided I needed to ask Matt another question so I texted him to come to my room. I laid out a few sets of lingerie, that basically cover nothing, on my bed, but I wanted Matt to pick one anyway. “Um what did you need my help with?” he asked as he stepped into my room, closing the door. “I want you to pick which one you want me to wear tonight.” I said while pulling him over to my bed to look at what I had picked out. I stopped when I noticed Matt kept trying to cover his crotch with his hands, instantly knowing he was hard. “Are you hard right now Matty?” I teased, causing him to blush deeply.

“Only a little bit. I didn’t touch myself, I promise! I-I do have a vibrator in m-my ass though but it’s not on. I just wanted to edge myself so I could cum more later, ‘m sorry I didn’t a-ask.” he stuttered out, extremely flustered. “Do you have the remote?” I questioned as he was eyeing this one black set, which was mostly just straps. “Yes, and I want this one it’s really sexy.” he blurted out before blushing heavily. The one he picked out was a black leather bra and panties set with a grater belt, the bra was basically just an outline of one as it had nothing covering my tits. It did hold my them up nicely though, just like the panties, which were crotchless, and the garter made my ass look good.

“Can I have control of the vibrator until tonight? You think you can handle that without cumming?” I inquired, wanting to know how far I could take things with him. Matt dug into his pocket before pulling out the remote and handed it to me with an embarrassed smile. “I think I can as long as it’s not on 24/7.” he told me as he grabbed my hand and started nervously playing with the few rings I had on my fingers. “Can I ask you a serious question?” I asked Matt, resulting in him nodding. “I’m not judging you, I just want to know, but you don’t have to answer if you feel uncomfortable. Why do you want to be pegged so badly and like having things up your ass? I don’t care if you are, but are you like gay or bi?” I questioned, causing him to drop my hand.

Matt’s face turned a bright red and he had to clear his throat a couple of times before speaking. “N-No, I’m not gay or bi, I don’t find men attractive. I was just young and experimenting one day and figured out how to stimulate my prostate. I wanna get pegged because I’ve seen it on pornhub and it looks really hot.” he said softly. “Plus you’re someone I trust and if I’m being honest, you’re really attractive and you domming me would be the hottest fucking thing in the world to me.” he added, blushing heavily. “Noted. Thanks Matty, that’s all I needed.” I smiled at him before Nick conveniently called for him. This was the perfect time to start teasing him with the vibrator.

After putting the other two lingerie sets away, I walked out to the kitchen, pretending to go back to working on my laptop. I watched as Matt sat down next to Nick on the couch, pulling the small remote out of my pocket I pressed the + button, turning it on to 1, making Matt’s breath hitch a little. He looked up at me with pleading eyes to stop as he was talking to Nick but I turned it up again to 3, making him squirm a bit. “Matt, are you okay? You look uncomfortable and you’re not paying attention.” Nick asked, genuinely concerned.

Matt’s pov

I regret giving Y/n the remote to the vibrator now because I didn’t think she’d turn it on when I was talking to my fucking brother. I was fine when it was on level 1 but when she turned it up to 3 my brain went a bit foggy, I zoned out a little bit until Nick put his hand on my shoulder. “Matt, are you okay? You look uncomfortable and you’re not paying attention.” he asked, I quickly came up with an excuse. “Yeah I’m fine, my head just hurts a bit.” I lied, looking at Y/n and silently asking her to turn it off, which luckily for me, she did. After talking to Nick, I walked over to her, “Please don’t turn it on when I’m talking to my brother!” I pleaded, but that just made her turn it up to 5 while smirking.

“But doesn’t it feel good Matty?” she asked, I let out a whimper and nodded before walking back to the living room. This went on for the next two hours or so until Nick and Chris left, my boxers were soaked with precum and my dick was so hard. I was laying on my bed and I swear I almost came in my pants when Y/n walked in. She was wearing the lingerie set I picked out along with the strap-on, which was black and matched the set perfectly. The strap-on was definitely smaller than my dick, maybe 5 or 6 inches max, but that was good because I don’t think I could take one that’s upwards of 7 inches.

I started squirming as Y/n stood above me, looking down at me and telling me to get undressed. She already had me take the vibrator out like 15 minutes ago, not that it really mattered. “You’re already being such a good boy for me Matty.” she praised, making me whine a bit as her eyes raked over my body. “I’m ready for you to dom me.” I confessed, causing her to stop staring at my body and smile at me. “Where’s your lube at?” she asked me but I just got it for her instead, “Thank you handsome, can you lay on the bed for me?” she asked sweetly, knowing I was a bit nervous to get pegged and have sex with her in general.

Y/n’s pov

I know Matt said he wanted me to dom him, but I could visibly tell he was anxious and nervous so I was trying to be as gentle as I could with him. “Matty, if it’s too much or it hurts too bad let me know and we’ll stop and cuddle okay?” I said while moving some hair out of his eyes. “I promise I’ll say something.” he replied, “What do you wanna start with first babe?” I asked him, wanting to do things his way. “I want to makeout with you.” he giggled, I hovered over Matt and we started kissing slowly at first, then we started full-on making out. I was sucking on Matt’s tongue and he was letting out the prettiest whiny moans as I ran my hands up and down his sides.

Experimentally, I started ghosting my hands across his nipples, loving the whimper it pulled from him. I pulled back for just a second, “Does that feel good baby?” I questioned while rubbing my thumbs over his nipples before rolling them between my thumb and index finger. “Yeah but please more!” he whined, not making too much sense, “Please what baby? What do you want me to do?” I asked as I kissed all over his chest. “Want you to just peg me already. I’m ready mommy.” Matt squirmed. His eyes opened widely when he realized what he just said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mea-“ he started before I cut him off with a kiss.

“Don’t be impatient baby, mommy will fuck you when she’s ready.” I said sternly as I moved towards his aching cock. I discreetly turned my vibrator onto 2, not high enough to make me cum but just enough to get me more wet. His cock was already covered and dripping with precum, “This really gets you worked up, doesn’t it?” I teased as I grabbed the lube. I squeezed some onto my fingers and circled his puckered hole before slowly slipping one in. “Two fingers please, I can take it.” he whined, I added a second finger and Matt was right, he could indeed take it.

I started scissoring his hole opened before adding some more lube and a third finger causing Matt to whimper. “Too much?” I asked, not wanting to hurt him, “N-No just so full.” he panted out in response. I fingered Matt for a few more minutes until he grabbed my wrist and stopped me. “I-I think I’m ready mommy.” he said, looking up at me with those innocent blue eyes. “Are you sure?” I asked as I pulled my fingers out, wiping the rest of the lube off on my thigh. “Really sure, can- can I get it wet with my mouth and control your vibrator, please?” Matt asked nervously.

I handed him the remote and stood up, Matt quickly turned my toy up to 5 which caused me to squirm before he got on his knees. “You look good on your knees baby.” I complimented, making him blush heavily. “How do I um you know, suck dick?” Matt asked, his last two words barely above a whisper. “Well I’m not going to feel anything so you can just do whatever.” I explained, Matt nodded and started to suck on it lightly for a minute as I looked down at him.

He whined and stopped sucking, “I can’t wait, just use lube because I need it now!” he complained, desperately trying not to touch himself. “Okay, get back on the bed for me then.” I said while stroking the side of his face. Once Matt got back on the bed, I put some lube around his hole and onto the strap. “It might hurt baby, so tell me if you need to stop.” “Okay Y/n, please I need you so bad!” he whined. I placed the tip at Matt’s entrance and slowly pushed it in about half way.

Matt let out a choked sob as his hands tightly clenched the sheets and his face held a look of discomfort. “It’s okay Matty, you’re okay.” I soothed him, “P-Put the rest in.” he whimpered. I pushed in the rest of the way before stilling my movements again, not wanting to go too fast. Matt being the sneaky little shit he is, decided to turn my vibrator up to 7, I let out a loud moan as he did so. “Please move.” he groaned quietly, I started pumping at a slow pace as he started to groan a bit.

Even though I was feeling so much pleasure from the vibrator and I wanted nothing more than to start pounding into Matt, I stopped myself because I didn’t want to hurt him. “F-Faster mommy!” he loudly whined, I sped up my movements just a little bit, loving Matt’s whimpers and moans, “Feel good baby?” I panted out. “More! Need more!” he cried out, grabbing onto my shoulders, “Want me to go faster or harder?” I asked, wanting to clarify what he wanted.

“Both, please! Feels so goo—“ he cut himself off with an extremely loud moan as I started fucking into him rougher. “RIGHT THERE! FUCK MOMMY, D-DO THAT AGAIN!” he begged, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed to arch his back more. Even with all the pleasure Matt was experiencing, he was still thinking about me, he turned up my vibrator to 10 which caused me to also join in on his loud moaning.

“Right here Matty? Is that where it feels good?” I asked breathlessly, “Yes! Yes! Please touch my cock, please! Please!” he needily moaned. I started rubbing his cock in rhythm with my thrust as we were both getting closer to the edge. “A-Are you close mommy?” “Very close baby, I just want you to cum first.” I told Matt, speeding up all my movements. “Choke me! Choke me tightly so I can please cum!” he whimpered.

I used my left hand to choke him and a couple seconds later, Matt was painting both our stomachs white with copious amounts of cum, cause me to cum as well and pulled out a him. “M-Matt, vibrator!” I cried for him to turn it off as I was getting overstimulated, “Sorry, sorry.” he apologized out of breath and turned it off my vibrator as I collapsed next to him on my back as we caught our breath.

I took off the strap and I was honestly just going to put it on the floor because I was too tired to clean it right now but Matt took it from me. He licked all my cum off the vibrating side before he put it on the floor and scooped his cum off of me. Matt stuck his fingers in his mouth to taste himself and moaned when I moved to lick the rest of his cum off his body. “You were such a good boy Matty, you did so well.” I praised him as I kissed his neck, sucking a minimal amount of hickies into the skin.

“Thank you Y/n/n, felt so good.” Matt blushed as I stood up to go take another shower “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up real quick.” I said while helping Matt up. I grabbed my clothes and strap-on as well as a pair of socks, boxers and a tshirt for Matt before we went to my room to take a quick shower. When we got out and got dressed we looked at the time to see Nick and Chris would be home soon. As to not be sus, we sat in the living to watch a movie and Matt was now extra clingy.

I’m not complaining, I think it’s cute, I enjoyed it. Matt had his head on my shoulder and I had an arm wrapped around his shoulders. I was playing with his hair when Nick and Chris walked back in and thankfully neither of them said anything. They probably just chalked it up to Matt feeling anxious about something and I comforted him. Both boys simply just plopped down on the couch to watch the movie with us until we all called it a night, Matt ended up sleeping in my room.

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[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

Unknown - Ep 11 - That Scene

The opening scene of episode 11 landed differently for me than it did for others. I was going to just keep it to myself since I have a minority opinion, but when I rewatched it last night I fell even more in love with it!

The structure!! It's so good! Let me explain.

At the bottom of the stairs, Qian hesitates. He still hasn't made up his mind.

Yuan says "Do you still not get it?" He knows what Qian is feeling, even if Qian hasn't figured it out yet. So he says what he wants very clearly.

Yuan asks for permission to do 4 things:

1. Be more than just Qian's brother.

2. Be who Qian relies on when he's down.

3. Be someone Qian can talk to about anything.

4. Be with Qian for the rest of his life.

Before Qian answers, he revisits 4 sets of memories, each set answering one of Yuan's questions with a resounding YES.

After each affirmative answer, it cuts back to the sex scene to communicate that THIS is the culmination of all those yesses.

In other words, there are 4 direct questions and 4 groups of memories that hold the answers to those questions, 4 times those memories scream the answer is YES, and 4 cuts to a bit of sex.

Let's look at the groups of memories.

1. He thinks back to Yuan's words in ep 9. Does he not want Yuan? Or does he not DARE to want Yuan? And he remembers all the times he felt desire for Yuan, but suppressed it. Can he be more than just Yuan's brother? Yes.

2. He thinks back to Yuan consistently being someone Qian can rely on, all through his childhood until now. "If the world falls down, we'll hold it up together." "You won't be alone." "I like being around you." Yuan genuinely likes being around Qian and has never wanted to leave him. He's shown his commitment to Qian time and time again. Can Qian rely on Yuan when he's down? Yes.

3. He remembers how long and hard Yuan suffered while enduring one-sided love, and that Yuan chose to suffer in quiet for years rather than confess to Qian about it. But Qian knew Yuan was suffering that whole time and hated it. It broke Qian's heart to see how hard it was for Yuan. If he did likewise and didn't talk about things, he'd also break the heart of the person who loves him because of his silence. Yuan laid himself bare and told Qian everything. Can Qian reciprocate and tell Yuan about everything in his life, even the hard things? Yes.

4. He thinks about how Yuan has ALREADY built his entire life around Qian. "I can sum up my life in two words: Wei Qian." Memories of Yuan come like a flood, rapidly gaining momentum. Yuan has already been with Qian for most of his life, and will NOT STOP. Qian can't imagine a life without Yuan. So can Yuan be with Qian for the rest of his life? Yes.

Qian nods and says his answer aloud: You can. And then they kiss.

The sex is not the point. It's the culmination. It's all the yesses stacked on top each other until they break the last of Qian's walls. By cutting the sex so it only exists between each resounding YES, they've made it less about the action of it and more about Qian realizing that YES, they're ALREADY in love and unalterably committed to each other. Why not give in to his physical desires when the rest is so clear?

Others watched this and saw a sex scene interrupted by cumbersome flashbacks. I watched this and saw a dramatic feelings realization interrupted by snippets of quite lovely sex that drove those feelings home.

A final note: It's probably because I'm demisexual, but I am frequently unmoved by sex scenes, especially when they do not advance the plot or the character development. This onscreen scene moved me. It hit the right emotional note. It was focused primarily on Qian's pov (his face is the one the camera is focusing on). And it was artfully done, instead of merely being titillating.

I'm tagging a few people who I recall talking about this in their posts, but it's been a couple of weeks so forgive me if I leave someone out or misremember. @absolutebl @lurkingshan @bengiyo @wen-kexing-apologist @wanderlust-in-my-soul @twig-tea

#unknown #unknown the series #asian gay dramas #taiwanese bl

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone Part 6 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, I forgoed the heavy cliffhanger I wanted to end it on but still have one none the less so don't get too cocky! Lol <3.

Warnings: Dom Officer Harrington/Gangster Munson & Sub Doctor Fem Reader, no smut today, lads!

Lots of angst! Eddie was arrested and Y/N gets interrogated. Mentions of deaths involving gunshots, child abuse from Eddie's father mentioned, Eddie hurt pretty bad in this (black eye, bruises, and burns) but not mentioned in in-depth detail. Reader is attacked by someone in her apartment but is rescued.

Word Count: 4271

Series here/ Donate to my Ko-Fi

Falling out the side building, Steve looked around jumping to the ground and reached up for you to do the same. Taking your hand, you both ran to your car and he opened the door for you ushering you in. 

After speeding away, he paused on the side of the road to catch his bearings and check his phone. 

“Shit. They called me like 10 times. FUCK!”, he growls as he slams his hands on the steering wheel. “I could have warned him. I could’ve—”

“Steve, this isn’t your fault; it’s Gabe’s.”, you try to soothe as you rub his back. 

“I need to see what they know and where they are putting him for the time being. Just go home and wait there, ok?”

“What if the cops come?”

The officer sighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“If they do, just remember what we taught you.” As you nod, he hastily leans down and kisses your lips. “Everything will be ok, honey.”

***

Two hours later, the cops did come for you insisting it was just to talk; not even putting handcuffs on you as you rode in the police cruiser to the station. Leading you to an integration room, you waited another thirty minutes before Steve and the detective you had seen him with before open the door. 

“Hey Y/N. It’s good to see you again. I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”

“Detective Hopper…and this is Officer Harrington. I remember you two.”

“Good. Very good.”, he grins warmly. “Is there anything you need before we begin?”

“Begin what exactly? I was told I’m not under arrest so what AM I here for?”

“Huh. So you haven’t heard Eddie Munson was arrested this morning?”

“What? No, I hadn’t. You people woke me up to come here! Why did you arrest him?! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Your eyes narrowed as you faked shock. 

“Calm down, Miss Y/L/N. We’re just asking questions, ok?”, Steve sighed your way with annoyance laced in his tone. “You are dating a gangster.”

“I’m dating a businessman. He’s not the monster you people make him out to be. And it’s DOCTOR Y/L/N, asshole.”

“Well, if I may doctor, do you know this man here?”

Detective Hopper slides an image of your ex across the table towards you. 

“Yeah, I mean that’s my ex from college Gabriel Wiley but I haven’t seen him sense he went in almost three years ago. Why and what does this have to do with Eddie?”

“It seems he had some information in regard to your boyfriend that could put him away for a long time.”

“I hope you didn’t take him seriously because Gabe was a notorious liar.”

“Hm, well unfortunately we’ll never find that out from him or anything else he wanted to tell us.” 

While waiting for him to continue your eyes flick towards Steve whose features seem to paint more than just worry along his face. He knows something but he hasn’t been able to tell you or Eddie yet. Sliding another picture your way, your eyes widen as you gasp. 

“He was murdered sometime last night.”

A commotion suddenly erupts outside with officers shouting for backup. The door to your room flies open as the gangster quickly slides to your side and grabs your hand. 

“Listen to me, Y/N. Don’t listen to a thing they say, alright? I didn’t kill him. I swear on my mother, sweetheart. I’d never hurt you like that!” As Eddie’s pleas tumble out, policemen tackle him and force the cuffs onto him again as they begin to drag him back out into the lobby. “I didn’t kill him, Y/N! Please! Believe me! I didn’t do this!”

Glancing towards Steve again, you notice he’s wearing that sarcastic smirk you had seen many times but it didn’t match the frightened look that reflected back in his own eyes. It was taking everything in him to be calm and appear unphased as his world fell apart. 

“Don’t tell me you really think he killed Gabe?  Edward Munson isn’t capable of murder.”, you growled. “Plus, we were together last night.”

“Doing what?”

“Take a guess.”, you spit.

“Control your tone, little girl.”, Steve sasses making the other officer roll his eyes. 

“Harrington, calm down. Miss—Dr. Y/L/N—we’re still doing an autopsy to find out when Mr. Wiley was murdered but at this time we have to ask, you don’t think he’d kill him out of jealousy? I mean this is your ex threatening to expose him. Of course, he’d—”

“Of course…because he comes from a crime ridden family my boyfriend would HAVE to have it in him to hurt someone like that, right? Eddie isn’t like his father. Plus, something like this doesn’t reflect a crime of passion.”

“What do you mean?”

Again, your eyes shift towards Steve who now genuinely seems to be interested in your theory. 

“Gabe was shot in the head from what I see here. It’s too clean…as if someone wanted to just do this job quick and get it over with. If this WAS jealousy there would be more signs of trauma or he would have used a weapon more personal like a knife.”

“So, who else would want Mr. Wiley dead then?”

“You said he was going to sell out Eddie and you believe Eddie took over his father’s empire…” Steve stands up straighter at your implicated as the detective seems more confused making you huff. “Jesus and you’re a detective? It has to be someone who was trying to protect Allen.”

“Someone in his gang you think?”

“Well…only officers knew Gabe was going to make a statement right?”

Hopper’s eyes darken as he glares in your equally angry irises.

“That’s a big leap you’re making, Y/N.”

“Is it, Jim?”, you ask sarcastically squaring your shoulders. “I want Eddie out of here now.”

“Once we can confirm your alibi for him with the time of death and we finish searching his building he’s all yours. You may leave now.”

Gathering your things, you fume as you stomp out of the interrogation room and head for your car. Purposely leaving something behind, you wait in your vehicle until Steve finally runs out with your phone in his hand. 

“You did so fucking good, honey. Are you ok? I’m sorry. They just told me about Gabe before we walked into the room.”

“I know. I know. I trust you. We need to get Eddie out of there, Steve. He’s not safe.”

“I’m doing everything I can to hurry these results. Thankfully, he was able to get a message to Jeff and the guys were able to hide all the supplies so they haven’t found anything nor will they.”

“Do you have any idea who would kill Gabe to silence him?”

“No and I feel like a fucking idiot for not thinking of that. I can’t be the only dirty cop right?”

“Sweetheart, you protect him and me, not every criminal in Hawkins.”, you try to sooth as you lightly touch his hand that was resting on your car. 

“I’m going to focus on getting him out. Go back to your apartment and hopefully the next time I see you…he’ll be with me.”

##############

18 hours. 

18 long arduous hours past and you still hadn’t heard anything. You called into work siting illness and left one of your nurses in charge. You barely sat down for a moment, refusing to sleep as you paced. 

When someone knocked on your door, you didn’t even hesitate as you ran to open it. 

“Oh. Hi. Um, can I help you?”, you asked to the stranger in front of you. 

“Yes, are you Y/N? Steve said I should wait here.”

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Wayne, Eddie’s uncle.”, he announced as he walked past you and took a seat on your sofa. “Fucking Allen. I tried to go to the police station to raise hell but they wouldn’t let my nephew go. I went to the prison to try and talk to him but his father spoke to me instead. Said that Eddie was ‘indisposed’.” At his words, your eyes widened in fear as you ran towards your phone. “Steve said the results came in so he’s bringing him here soon.”

“O-Ok.”, you stutter as you sit beside him before immediately rising to your feet again. “W-Would you like anything? Any coffee or?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Thank you. It’s nice to finally meet you. He talks about you and Steve all the time. He calls you two his Paladin and his Princess.”, he chuckles making you smile. “I’m glad he’s happy. After everything that boy has been through he deserves it.”

Your front door abruptly opens with Jeff and Steve carrying an unconscious Eddie over each of their shoulders with Gareth trailing behind. Your doctor mode promptly kicked in as they placed him on your bed and you checked him over. 

“He passed out in the car. I’m surprised he was able to even fucking walk out of the station.”, the officer relayed with a shake in his tone. “I don’t know what they did to him but…”

“I imagine it was Allen. If your theory about an officer is correct, that same officer could have told him that he hadn’t followed through with killing the ex. This would be punishment.”, Wayne responded as he watched you work. 

“It’s Eddie’s gang. He can do what he wants.”, Garth growled. 

“Not to Allen, son.”

“Eddie, baby. Can you open your eyes and look at me?”, you asked in a stern but comforting voice as you caressed his cheek. He was littered in bruises especially along his stomach and face. His eye was beginning to swell and his nose had dried blood underneath it staining his skin. What killed you the most where what looked like cigarette burns on his arms. “Jeff, in my kitchen under the cabinet I have a first aid kit with some burn cream and bandages meant for burns. Can you bring that to me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I brought this from my apartment. I didn’t know if…” Steve hands you the medicine you prescribed him for his own bruises making you smile up at him as you kiss his hand. 

“I don’t think anything’s broken but—”

“Can you boys go back to his building and assess what the police did? If anything is out of place or missing let Steve or myself know. Please be careful. If this is a cops doing…” Both men nod as they run off to do what Wayne commanded. Pulling the officer aside, they whisper to each other as you focus. “What did you find out?”

“Gabe reached out to the station from a hotel outside of town. One officer answered and two others went to pick him up. They were the ones who reported his body. Eddie’s guy dropped him off at 1am, he texted her at 3am… his time of death was estimated between 3 and 3:30.” As he said his last sentence, Steve’s eyes locked with your own. 

You ex most likely texted you believing that someone was there to protect him before being murdered. You were the last person to hear from him. At the time they knew you wouldn’t but Eddie had offered to drive you to where he was. If for some reason you said you wanted to be with Gabe instead of them, you would most likely be dead to.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

You nod as you turn away and place an ice pack on the gangsters abs. 

“I’m going to do some research on those cops. When did they report the ex’s body?”

“Around 5. They left the station around 4.”

“Ok…I’ll still do a check but…I’ll be back. Keep me updated, Steven.”

The officer nodded after him as Wayne left the apartment and grabbed one of your dining room chairs so he could sit near you both but not be in the way. 

“What does he do; Eddie’s uncle?”, you mumble. 

“He used to be a manager at one of the plants over here. Did that till Ed graduated. After, he got into private eye work helping families reconnect and shit like that. He’s actually really good at it.”, he smirks as his sad eyes watch you finish taping his partner’s arm. “Is he gonna be ok?”

“I think so. It seems like his dad…wanted to torture him…more than kill him.” As you begin to sob, Steve collects you in his arms and places you on his lap. “I don’t understand how a parent could do something like this.”

“Because Allen isn’t a parent; never fucking was. The Munson’s in those early years were extremely ruthless and vindictive. He killed for pleasure and ran his side of town like a fucking dictator. He was the same way with Eddie. From what he told me anyway. Abandoning him with Wayne was the best thing that asshole ever did for him.”

While Steve passed out beside him holding the gangster’s hand, you stayed awake constantly checking on his progress and making sure he was still breathing. Not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, you fell asleep in the chair beside him with your head against the mattress. 

***

Waking up with a start, you gasped before calming yourself when you realized everything was alright, it had just begun to lightly rain outside. Steve was gone but left a note by your hand saying he left to go meet Wayne and get some more details but he’d be back in a few hours. 

After quickly checking over Eddie, you headed down your hall towards your kitchen to get some water but as soon as you crossed the threshold of the hallway something hard collided with your face. Falling to the floor, you try to collect yourself but whoever hit you was faster, pinning you to the ground and wrapping their hands around your neck.

You tried to scream but you couldn’t breathe as you slowly began losing air. The world around you began to go dark and you knew soon you’d be gone. 

The person above you abruptly howled in pain, falling to his side as you rolled over and coughed trying to collect as much oxygen as you could. You heard the struggle behind you before silence suddenly fell over the room. When a bloody hand touched your hip, you begin to limply fight back.

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me. Are you ok?”, Eddie asked as crawled closer to you. 

A broken cry escaped you as you circled your arms around his neck and he clung you tightly to his chest. The door to your apartment quietly opened but as the officer came around the corner he was anything but.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened? Are you two alright?!”, Steve asked as he skidded to his knees and Wayne turned on the lights. 

When he tried to touch you to check on you, you didn’t even look his way as you held on to the gangster tighter and buried your face in the nook of his neck. Eddie could feel your hands and body still shaking and it killed him. 

“It looks like we were right, Steven.”, Eddie’s uncle sighs as he pulls his nephew’s knife out of the other officer’s back. “Officer Douglas…I guess he came here to finish Gabe’s job. He’s still alive. Was there anything else you wanted to get out of him or can we do this quickly and cleanly?”

“Leave him there.”, Eddie answered for him flatly as he placed his palm against the back of your head, petting your hair tenderly.”

“Edward, this is a cop. Are you sure you want to—”

“LEAVE HIM THERE!” Steve jumped at his loud growl, never hearing this particular tone before from the man he loved.

Giving him a final nod, Wayne patted the other man’s shoulder comfortingly before heading out the door and leaving you three alone. Unsure of what to do next, Steve kicked into the only other gear he knew, grabbing another one of your chairs from the dining room and dragging the knocked-out officer to it before tying his hands behind his back.

“Look at me, baby. Let me see you.”, Eddie cooed as his hands cupped your face and tilted your head back. You had a cut above your eye that was beginning to swell and purple bruises were starting to form around your neck from where the man had choked you. “Do you think can stand so we can sit on the couch?”, he whispered.

Without waiting for an answer, Steve bent down and lifted you into his arms, placing you on the sofa before coming back to take Eddie’s hand and guiding him to sit beside you. You both listened as he headed towards your room and came back with the first aid materials he saw you use on his partner. 

While you watched the officer fumble with getting everything together, the gangster kept his eyes you, taking note of your silent but seemingly calm demeanor. Sitting on your coffee table, Steve cleaned your wound carefully trying not to cause you anymore pain. As he started tearing open the bandage, you reached out to stop him, lightly tapping his hand and pointing towards the gauze squares. 

When he finishes his task, he glances over at Eddie, silently asking if he needs any first aid but the man shakes his head. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You two go lay down.”

After rising to your feet, you took the gangster’s hand and slung his arm behind your neck as you guided him back your bedroom. As you curled up in his side, his fingers absently played with your hair as he glared up at the ceiling. Not being able to control it, you began to cry again as he held you tighter to his body. 

“Whenever my dad would scream and yell at men in our house, my mom used to hold me by her side just like this.  After she died, he started screaming at me.  I could never do anything right and he accused me constantly of being weak like her.” 

You didn’t move or acknowledge you were listening but he knew you were, turning his head till his check rested on your forehead.

“That last year was the worst… he needed to get through to me, he said. He hired some of his goons to jump me when I was walking home from school to beat the shit out of me. When I was 12, Wayne said he wouldn’t tolerate this anymore. ‘Give me Eddie and I’ll take care of him.’ My dad dropped me off three hours later… I told myself when I took over that I would never treat any of my men the way he treated me and I don’t. He still has people though that are loyal to the ‘original true Munson’. They helped him carry out this particular punishment.”

As he murmured his last couple of words, you pushed up on your elbow to look at his face and his sad, heavy eyes met yours. 

“I think it’s my turn to punish Allen… starting with that fucker out there…”

There was a darkness that clouded his eyes then. Something you had never seen before, rattling you slightly as you blinked and laid your head back down against his chest. 

###############

That morning when you woke up, you were alone but you could hear their voices as they spoke in your living room. 

“How many more cops work for Allen?”, Steve asked angerly to the man tied to the chair. 

“You know, Harrington, I never would have taken you for dirty. You could have been making way more money if you picked the right Munson.”

Ringed fingers grabbed the other officer’s throat violently as Eddie pressed his nose to his own. 

“You attacked and almost killed someone important to us. No matter what you aren’t going to leave this building alive but you’re the one that gets to choose if it’s quick or a slow, agonizing, painful death. Be lucky you’re getting the fucking option.”, he spat he let the man go and punched him hard in the stomach. 

“What does it…matter…freak?”, Officer Douglas coughed. “Your father has allies everywhere. That bitch was marked for death and it will happen. Wait until he finds out you’re fucking a cop to. He’ll probably follow through with finally killing your ass!”

“Did you kill Gabe?”, you asked as all heads shift your way.

“Fuck you.”, he cursed causing Steve to punch his face, spraying blood on the floor.

“She asked you something. Fucking answer.”

The other man chuckled as he threw his head back to glare your way. 

“Yeah, I killed him. I’d like to tell you he went out like a man but little shit cried begging, fucking BEGGING, for us to spare you. ‘Please! Please! She’s a good woman! Leave her be! Wa-wa.’”

You have no idea what came over you but you flew towards him, swiftly taking Eddie’s knife in your hand, and pointing it at the man’s throat. 

“You won’t do it, little girl.”

“Oh yeah? You killed someone I cared about, tried to kill me, and then you and your little fake gang of nostalgic assholes hurt one of the men I love. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re weak. Just. Like. Them.”, he grumbled sassily.

Who you were and you were becoming began fighting within your brain as the knife began to quiver in your grasp. You wanted nothing more than to hurt this man like he had you but you were scared. A steady breath warmed the back of your neck as Eddie’s palm slid down your arm and he wrapped his own hand around yours holding the weapon. 

“Don’t think about it. If you think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it.”, he whispered. 

“Eddie—”

“Shut the fuck up Steve.”, the gangster growled as his other arm wrapped around your stomach and pressed your back against him. “You can do it, pretty girl. You aren’t weak are you?”

“No.”

“Louder.”

“No, sir. I’m NOT weak.”

“Then do it, princess. Do you think he was going to show you any mercy when he had his hands around your throat? No. He was going to fucking kill you. Return the favor.”

Before you could do anything, a loud bang from Steve’s gun filled your ears as they began to ring and Eddie lightly pushed you away from him, taking his knife from your grasp. 

“I know you’re hurting and these last few days have been rough but that does not give you license to play with her like that.”, Steve sneered in anger towards his partner. “If she wants to kill someone, that’s up to her. If she wanted to kill him, I would have let her but what you just did…trying to force her…”

“I wasn’t forcing her. I was encouraging.”

“Bullshit.”

“She needs to become stronger for what’s in store, Steven. More people are going to come after her until it gets through to Allen that I’M in charge. I know the line has been blurred because of our relationship but let me remind me of something, babe. I’m the gangster and I run a business. Jason was smart enough to back away but my father isn’t and it’s my turn to teach him a lesson. ANYONE who is loyal to that man will be put down. I’m done playing nice guy.”

“Edward Munson—”

“What, Steven Harrington? Are you going to throw me in jail and turn yourself in? Yeah, now we know what your police force does with people like that so give it a go.” The officer cocks his gun again and points the barrel towards his boyfriend’s head. “What are you going to do, sweetheart, huh? You’re gonna kill me?”

Tears stung Steve’s eyes as his hand began to shake.

“Please, honey, don’t do this. If you do, I’m going to lose you anyway because Allen will kill you.”

Standing up straighter, Eddie, pressed his forehead further into the weapon as if to challenge him. 

“So be it.”

Another gun cocking echoed through the apartment as you held it up towards the officer in front of you.

“Drop it, Steve.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

“Now, Steven, or I swear to God…”

Feeling defeated, the officer lowered his weapon and tucked it back into his holster as you turned your own on the gangster himself.

“I understand why you feel like you need to this and I’m not going to try to stop you but you need to heal and you need to be smart about this.”

“I don’t need to be anything, little girl. I already told you that neither of you have a say in what I do and this will not stand.”

Growling low in your throat, you place the gun on the counter.

“And I already told you that I’m involved whether you like it or not. Someone just tried to kill me again but this time they almost succeeded. Now, you will get back in bed and rest while Steve cleans up the mess here. Do I make myself clear, little boy?”

Steve’s eyebrow quirks as Eddie’s eyes darken further.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Matching his stance, your chest comes level with his as your glare up at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon 

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #mafia!eddie munson #officer!Steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #steddie angst

[adora-but-ginger]

Psych you out in the end

Word Count: ~400

Synopsis: The BAU is known for its impulse. According to Gideon, that meant hiring you.

Pairing: Eventual Spencer Reid x gender neutral! reader

Warnings: s2 setting for this one, which means, and say it all together now, glasses reid is here!

masterlist

A/N: AAAAAND I'M BACK BABEYYYY. Sorry for the delay in writing (it's been months whoopsie). Had to quickly finish getting a degree--but I'm back! This is the start to a series of stories that can be read as stand alones, but also altogether. This is simply just a quick intro, but I am SO excited for this. Think of this as an adaptation of the show psych into the BAU except the reader is an actual medium.

"Gideon, you're pulling our leg right now." Morgan was flabbergasted to say the least at what his boss just announced to the room full of agents (and a doctor).

"I most certainly am not. Believe what you'd like, but the matter of the fact is that they're good at their job and based on their prior experience they will make a beneficial addition to the team. The BAU is full of exceptions, and they will be no different." They were all thinking the same thing--what was Gideon on?

"There's no way the FBI would hire a 'psychic'". Spencer put air quotes around the word. After all, he was a man of science.

"I actually prefer the term medium, thank you very much, Dr. Reid." You figured this was the right time to come into the office. You knew going into this that there would be a lot of push back and when word got out about Gideon's decision to hire you for what you really were, people were going to talk. Technically, you were hired under the title of 'professional profiler with a concentration of psychological tells,' but that was just a fancy title. It wasn't like you were a money grab, you truly were good at what you did. You were in a similar position as one Penelope Garcia Gideon told you, in the manner that you were on the FBI's radar. You knew too much in some people's eyes, so you were either offered cell time or this job. You took the latter.

You made it your business to know what you were walking into. Derek Morgan had the muscles, Emily Prentiss made your heart skip a beat, JJ was the communication liaison, Aaron Hotchner was the second in command, Penelope Garcia was the tech master, and Dr. Spencer Reid was the genius.

"You know, the term medium actually emerged in the late 19th century when--" the doctor started to ramble, but was soon cut off by another team member. Hotchner.

"Reid?" A look his way made silence ensue. "This was a very...impulsive design we made, don't give us reason to regret it. Okay agent?"

"It's actually doctor, sir. I have a PhD in Psychology."

He nodded towards you, face showing no emotion. "Doctor it is. JJ?"

You took a careful seat next to the Reid, who in response pushed his glasses slightly up his nose with a side glance towards you before tuning into the case description.

This was going to be something, that's for sure.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #bau #criminal minds x reader #gender neutral reader

[animeyanderelover]

I'm having a tiny bit of a Mihawk brainrot if you can't tell. I'm not sure if his past was ever really elaborated on so there are most likely mistakes in my interpretation because I am not caught up to the Anime yet.

Just imagine...

Growing up together with the very boy that will in the future claim not only the title of "Strongest Swordsman in the World" but will also eventually become one of the Seven Warlord's of the sea. Hawk Eyes Mihawk is a name that will one day struck fear in everyone that hears it, whether it's a pirate, a marine or an innocent citizen.

Yet you have known him ever since both of you were just tiny children. You know all of his quirks, his likes and dislikes and all of his most sacred secrets and most embarrassing moments which he made you promise would be kept only between the two of you.

And Mihawk knows you just as much. He knows of all your dreams and your biggest fears, has been your shoulder to cry on whenever your heart was struck with grief, has witnessed all of your shenanigans and despite his better judgement has even participated in some of your reckless decisions, even if to simply be the one who ultimately saves you from any big troubles.

The dynamic between the two of you has always been like this. You have always been the dreamer, the one who has their heads in the clouds and loves romanticising everything. He can't even recall how often you spent your time excitedly recounting to him a dream you had in your sleep or proclaimed to him excitedly about a new ambition you had in life, every week a new one. One time you told him you wanted to be a doctor, another one you wanted to be a vet and the next time you announced your new dream of wanting to be a shipwright. You were like a pot just foaming over with dreams and positivity.

Mihawk on the other hand has always been your voice of reasoning and the guardian who is always right next to you when your excitement led to an impulsive and poorly made choice. He has always been the one who was your silent yet loyal shadow and the one you could always count on, even if he has dubbed you as an "idiot". He has always been the one who just sat there and silently listened to all of your excited rambling when the words were tumbling out faster from your mouth than you could form them, even despite reminding you that you should probably soon make up your mind whenever you discarded your old dream for a new one. You truly are a scatterbrained fool at times yet he has a weak spot for that bright glimmer in your eyes, a light as bright as the sun.

As adolescence catches up with you two, you stay the same dreamy fool who tends to daydream throughout the day, so deeply immersed in your own thoughts that time and your surroundings are forgotten.

Mihawk remains as the one person you are closest with and is the one who protects you from walking into doors, buildings or people when he realises that you space out again as you let your imagination run wild. Yet as he grows up from a boy to a man, his feelings for you mature. Both of you have always been exceptionally close to each other but it is only as his mind matures and becomes more complex that he starts questioning how he truly feels about you. You have always been the dearest person to his heart but as a child he has never truly considered your relationship as deeply as he does now. You've just always been the person he has known best and with whom he has shared the most, from the good to the bad. You have always been special to him yet it is only now that he realises just how special you really are to him.

He loves you.

He loves your ditzy and airheaded personality, your joyful laugh and the constant glow in your eyes as you look at the world around you as if you are discovering it for the first time and he especially loves the excited shimmer in your eyes when you tell him about your dreams.

Knowledge alone is only half the work though. Mihawk, who was back then only a flicker of what he will be in the future, doesn't know how to express those emotions he has for you. All he knows that he feels very intensely for you and he finds himself overwhelmed with this discovery. It is all chaotic and hectic inside of his heart and his mind. It is something new that frightens him over so slightly as he doesn't know how to control his feelings just yet which is why he decides to wait. To wait until he has understood his love for you a bit better before he will tell you how he feels about you.

Eventually both of you leave the island you grew up together in favor setting sail and heading towards the Grand Line. Both of you had dreams of your own yet neither one of you was at that time ready to separate from each other just yet. Mihawk's feelings for you have only grown since he became cognizant of them for the first time and they only intensify with each passing day, not enabling him to understand them nor to fully control them.

So used has he grown to having you all for himself though that he finds himself uncomfortable and possessive when you choose to engage with locals on an island both of you have landed on, an eerily intense look in those golden eyes of his that seemingly try to pierce the very soul of the person you choose to give your attention too despite him standing right next to you. It always spooks people and you can only slap him on his chest as you chastise him for his rude behavior, although he knows that you are never truly mad at him. Even he is secretly just glad that you give him your undivided attention again, even if he is grumbling as he defends himself against your little lectures.

Both of you enter the Grandline together and it is then that you finally decide to bring up the idea of you two finally separating. Initially Mihawk is quite reluctant as you suggest that idea to him. Wouldn't it be safer for both of you to stick together? After all neither of you two knows what lies ahead in those oceans. You are quite persistent though as you explain to him that you would like to achieve your dreams by yourself and that you think he should do the same. You clarify yourself by assuring him that you don't plan to never see him again but that you would like to do your best without his help with your own strength.

He feels the lump in his throat as he hears your reasons behind your suggestion, his mind struggling to imagine how it would be if you wouldn't been with him and he finds himself drawing a blank as soon as he attempts to consider it. You are someone he has always known throughout his entire life and even hearing your suggestion has his heart shaking with the thought of your absence if that were to really happen.

You two have always been together. Why would you want to change that now?

Both of you spend a lot of time arguing over this issue but ultimately you win him over, the light in your eyes persuading him by tugging at all of his heartstrings. His obsession has just started to bud and it isn't until a while later that it springs to its full awakening which is why Mihawk eventually caves in and agrees to your suggestion.

Both of you separate at the next island you land on but both of you make a promise to each other. That you'll meet again on this very island one year from now on to see how far you two have come with your dreams.

His heart is heavy when both of you bid each other goodbye, his hands holding yours tightly as he relishes one last time for the next long year in your brightness. The words he has been wanting to tell you for a while now linger on his tongue, the temptation strong to let you know about his feelings for you in a last feeble hope that his love may change your mind. Yet he knows as he looks into your beaming eyes that your mind has already been set so he can only swallow his feelings back, although he vows that when you two will see each other again, he will be strong enough to finally confess his love to you.

One year passes and he returns to the same island as a completely different person. Within only one year Mihawk has risen to unbelievable fame. He feels content with what he has achieved within the last year as he has grown into the strong man he swore to be one year ago on this very island and considers himself now ready to finally tell you about how he truly feels for you. The budding obsession as blossomed over the last year as your absence has forced him to fully acknowledge as well as embrace everything he has been feeling for you and now more than ever before does Mihawk plan to keep you by his side.

Only that you never show up.

Initially Mihawk decides to ignore the growing heaviness in his heart as he decides that maybe you experience some delay. The weather in the Grandline is after all infamous for its changing mood. So he waits for you.

One day.

Two days.

Three days...

With every sunset that he witnesses on the island, he feels a part of him silently dying with it. Emotions brew up inside of him as a few days turn into nearly an entire month and he finally can't deny the haunting truth anymore he has been trying to deny.

You won't return.

His heart shatters as he finally acknowledges this fact. There are so many emotions inside of him, far too many for him to identify each one of them as they blur together into one big storm that has his chest tightening and his heart silently screaming.

Why didn't you return?

He can only come up with two possible explanations and he truly doesn't know which one would be worse. Either you have forgotten about him and the promise you two made or you have died on the sea.

He dedicates months trying to find out the truth about what happened to you. He reads every single newspaper, somehow dreading yet hoping to find an article mentioning your name yet he is always left disappointed. He travels to the island he knew you were heading to after both of you separated in hopes of gathering information yet no one from the locals can give him any useful information about you. He goes through all the newest bounty posters to see if your name and face appear anywhere only to be left with a growing hole in his heart.

The last hope of his is finally shattered when he sails all the way back to the place both of you grew up in only to be met with the same dreadful emptiness as no one in the town has heard of you since him and you left the island on a ship over a year ago.

Nothing.

There is no trace of your existance in the world, no matter how long he searches for you as if you were only a fickle imagination of his own. He doesn't know whether you have forgotten about him, if something has happened to you or if you have met your end somewhere on those unpredictable seas.

It is a torment unlike anything he has ever experienced as the lack of knowledge drains him slowly and tortures him as he is unable to find any closure. No matter what, Mihawk seems to be destined to suffer one way or another. Hope is titled as the most beautiful thing in the world yet it is hope that only prolongs his suffering as a part of him is unable to accept the possibility of your death until he has proof.

As months turn into years, his heart shrinks and withers like a flower deprived of water and sunlight. The ambitious and determined man turns into a husk of what he was, his dream stolen from him without having been able to do anything. There is a growing resentment sharply directed against himself as the last few days with you haunt him.

He shouldn't have agreed to separate from you. If he would have just been more insistent, would you still be here with him?

The anguish of his lost dream nestles itself deeply into his shriveled heart as the perpetual heartbreak changes him. Colours seem to fade from the world around him as a feeling of numbness spreads like roots in the earth. There is nothing that excites him anymore, not even when he is dubbed as the strongest swordsman in the world. The title and the reputation that comes with it hold no meaning to him anymore, not when he doesn't have you to share his glory with. The hole in his chest is torn open as time flies by and every ship that crosses his path is dragged into his suffering as he wields Yoru against them. There is no meaning behind the carnage he leaves behind but he has lost sight of why he should care, the dwelling bitterness and sorrow inside of him tainting his honor.

He has lost the ability to live, feels more akin to a ghost as he drifts through the seas and clashes with opponents who are swatted away like flies only to be forgotten by him soon after.

There is a new listlessness clinging to him, his sharp eyes unable to see the worthwhile in this world now that you are gone. Everything is buried deep inside his chest and mind though so that no one can ever have those memories and feelings he has shared with you. Some people hoard gold and jewels, Mihawk's most precious treasure are the memories he has made with you over the years as there is nothing else he has left of you.

When the Marine offers him the title of a Warlord, he is only half the man he used to be. Surely you would have objected to this offer as you have always been rather warily of the government and if he would have been the man he once was, he would have sliced the person who had made such a ridiculous offer to him into dices.

That man is already dead though...

He accepts the offer after a while, although not because he is suddenly fond of the very people he used to hunt down. He just doesn't know what he should do with himself anymore. It feels like his life has halted and is just waiting for you to return, even if by now he has a feeling that he will never see you again, forever left in the darkness about your fate.

Someone once said that time heals all wounds. Those words are a lie. Mihawk doesn't heal as years just seem to trickle by faster than he can even realise. There is nothing of substance to his life, nothing worth to remember. Only the hole where his heart used to be reminds him that he is still breathing, the haunting emptiness inside of him something that will remain the only thing loyal to him until his body rots away.

The presence is barely something he takes notice of as he only lives in the past in his mind, clinging to every memory he has of you out of unadulterated fear that he may eventually forget what your voice sounded like or how you always looked at him with those bright eyes. If even those memories were to abandon him, he would lose even the grasp of his own identity within the never-ending cycle of the dull and forgetful life he lives now.

Many years later a miracle happens though. He finds you. On a random island within the Grand Line, he finds you again.

He doesn't even want to believe it when he initially sees your face. Maybe his mind is just playing tricks on him out of delusional desperation but as golden eyes trail you, he realises that he hasn't gone mad. It is you...

The weight of uncertainty that he has been carrying around with him for so many nights suddenly evaporates, its haunting shadow covering him no more.

There is no relief though for him though. No matter what outcome would have proved to be true, he always knew that he would end up getting hurt.

Why are you here? Where were you during all those years? How could you abandon him and betray his feelings so easily?

In that moment, as he stands there motionlessly as only his gaze follows you, he feels like a small boy again. Helpless, confused and hurt beyond words. Emotions he has been hiding behind inner walls for years threaten to burst out of him and an urge to unleash all of those seething emotions overcomes him yet none of those thoughts or desires are ever put into action. As if someone put a spell on him, Mihawk finds himself unable to move, as rigid as a statue. Perhaps his body is just in shock and in hindsight it is good that he finds himself unable to act in that moment to gain some semblance of control again. Otherwise who knows what he would have done in that moment.

He watches as you stroll through the city, your laughter which used to bring him only comfort and warmth seemingly mocking him as he feels a new shadow swallowing him up and filling his heart with a bitter taste.

Betrayal. You betrayed him.

You willingly chose to break the promise you two made decades ago and discarded him as if he were an disposable object instead of the person who spent your entire youth with you.

Did you even once consider how he would feel? Do you have any idea what he turned into because of your decision?

You left him! Didn't even bother to contact him to let him know that you were still alive! Whilst he spent endless days and nights mourning after you, driving himself insane as he didn't know of your fate, you were on this island and enjoyed your life!

A life without him.

Did he mean that little to you for you to make the decision to never see him again so easily? Did all the years he was by your side mean nothing to you?

His heart dies as he can only stand there and follow you with his gaze. All heartbreak, all of the grief that have eaten him alive from the inside out for countless seasons drain in the new cold rage that suddenly floods his veins, his pupils narrowing as his gaze zooms in on your smiling face.

What use did it have to mourn someone who lives? What use did it have to feel heartbroken over someone who clearly doesn't care about the pain he went through?

Mihawk has already wasted too much time dwelling in his own self-pity and in that moment he despises you for the shell you have turned him into.

You made the decision to disappear without a word. Now it is time for you to pay the consequences of that decision. He isn't here to catch up with you for old times sake after all.

No. He is here to take you.

And just as you didn't care about his feelings during all those years, this time he won't care for yours either. He doesn't care to hear your reasons and he doesn't care about your apologies if you should dare to voice them to his face. It is already too late for any of that.

Years too late.

#yandere one piece #yandere op #yandere one piece live action #yandere opla #yandere mihawk #yandere dracule mihawk #yandere x reader #yandere x you #one piece x reader #mihawk x reader

[nikethestatue]

Moriel--A Cautionary Tale

Let me tell you a little story.

Before ACOWAR was released, there was a group of pretty serious shippers, who were violently convinced that Mor and Azriel were going to be endgame. Basing their assumptions on what they found in ACOMAF, they had an unshakable belief in Moriel.

Now, you see, *I* was never a Moriel. What I saw in Moriel was one person deeply disinterested in another, while participating in a strange dynamic between herself and two brothers. What's more, what I always found curious and strange about Moriel in ACOMAF was that everything about it seemed to have come from other people. The 'relationship' such as it was (and it was strange) was told from the POV of others, namely Rhys to Feyre. And yet, at no point, have we ever seen Azriel act upon this intense infatuation that he supposedly had for Mor. There were 'longing looks' that he supposedly sent her way, but they were told through the biased lens of Feyre's observations, who took what Rhys told her at face value. Now, what *I* personally found curious and what made me more and more doubtful about Moriel in ACOMAF was that it was Feyre herself, the protagonist, who through her OWN observations (not through Rhys's) said the words 'and I think that Elain would cling to Azriel, just for some peace and quiet'. They didn't need to be included, those words. Not at all. She could've just said 'Elain would also love Velaris and would adore walking through the gardens and the flower stalls'. Yet, then the still human and engaged Elain would cling to Azriel...If he stopped loving Mor.

Hmmmm. Did that mean that Azriel could and WOULD stop 'loving' Mor because of ....Elain?

That if Elain was there, with him, 'clinging' to him, that would make him drop his 500 year old obsession? But why? I wondered. If Moriel were supposedly endgame, why would Elain be brought up as a possibility at all? Why, in Feyre's mind, did the two of them make sense?

Yet, the Moriels did not let up, though the hints were already there. The fact that it's been 500 years and nothing's happened between 2 people who seemingly had no obstacles to being together didn't seem to bother them. And what's more, none of these so-called 'evidence' came from Azriel himself. Or Mor. But especially Azriel. A man in love, he did not seek to touch this woman, help her, care for her, spend time with her. Once, he agreed to go to Rita's, and that was a big deal, it seemed.

So why am I telling you all this?

Because I've seen it all before. One of the biggest fandom members ever, was an ardent Moriel shipper. Moriel. Moriel. Moriel. The 'breadcrumbs' and the 'foreshadowing' were all there in her mind. Theories were written. Great Moriel fanfics. Art. Moodboards. In A COWARD, Moriel was finally going to happen. The next book was basically Moriel's.

Reminds you of anything?

Good, ol' Gwynriel.

Same shit. Different day. Taking questionable sentences from the books and thinking that they mean something that they don't. Constructing elaborate headcanons. Writing endless theories. Heavily relying on assumptions. And by God, Moriel actually had way more material to go by than Gwynriel. You COULD almost get confused--it would've been much more understandable than Gwynriel.

But what never convinced me about the validity of Moriel is that one sentence.

"Elain would cling to Azriel'.

THAT, my friends, is foreshadowing.

It hinted at the FUTURE. That there was an untold story there.

As she was tending to Rhys and his wounds, Feyre laid out the future for both sisters in her monologue.

Both Moriel and Gwynriel speak of the past--the rescues of both Mor and Gwyn. But never of the future. SJM never paired Gwyn and Azriel and gave them even one sentence of how they might come together in the future. Same with Moriel.

So, when you become worried and begin questioning yourself, when the noise gets too loud and you begin wondering whether Elriel is going to happen remember Moriel. A loud majority was advocating for those too as well at some point. Loud doesn't equal 'right'. Sometimes, it's just loud.

#elriel #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #pro elriel

[calaisreno]

Rise

621 words / Prompt: Family

Today’s mini-fic is a little bit that didn’t make it into The Last Envoy. After the war, Sherlock returns and visits Mummy. 

1946

Mycroft told me that Mummy was failing a bit, but that was not what I saw when I looked through the garden door and saw her snipping flowers to put in a vase. She looked like the woman I’d last seen four years ago, before I went to Oxford, still tall and straight, graceful and beautiful.

Four years seemed a lifetime. Years filled with separation and waiting, spent in places only war can create. 

“Happy Birthday, Mummy,” I said, smiling. 

She turned then, and I could see that her hair was whiter, her movements slower. She lay down the scissors and put her arms around me, still holding two roses. I felt her hands tremble against my back.

“My boy,” she whispered. “My dearest darling.”

She knew me, but in her mind I was always the son she’d lost, so many years ago. A bright little boy she’d called Sherlock, as well as the man Mycroft had named after that child. 

“How are you?” I could see a brightness in her eyes and was glad that her mind was still active. 

“I’m fine,” she replied, holding me at arm’s length now and examining me with that sharp gaze. “You look surprisingly well. Doctor Watson has been taking good care of you.”

“He has. Switzerland is a very healthy place to live. Up in the mountains, the air is crystal clear. I’m sure I’ll miss it and will need to visit again some day, but for now I’m happy to be back.”

We sat, and Rose brought us tea. 

“Mycroft told me about your experiences. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s heart-breaking that people can do such things.”

I did not speak; a question should not be answered until it is asked.  

“How is John?” she asked.

“He’s fine. He would have come with me, but he had to be at the hospital today.”

“He’s a good man. I’m glad you have him.” 

“I’m very lucky.” 

We sipped our tea in silence. I could hear the bees humming in her flowers. Closing my eyes, I recalled the first time I saw bees travelling between the flowers in Mycroft’s garden. I imagined a day when I could no longer sit in Mummy’s garden, watching the bees and talking to her.  

As if she could hear my thoughts, she smiled and spoke to me. 

“I’m seventy-five years old today, Sherlock. With luck, I may have several more birthdays.”

“I hope so, Mummy.” 

She gave me that familiar look, the one that means she wants to share something personal, words for my ears alone. “You once described to me how the Beta view time as an arrow, always travelling up, leaving the past behind. It’s a good way to look at ageing, which often feels like loss. I’ve decided that as the years pile up, I will rise above them, into the future.”

In my mind I sometimes felt myself looking back as my ship moved up and away from Beta, my home planet, until it sparkled, a tiny point of light in the trackless black universe. I remembered everything about my home, every one of the people who loved me. They were moving quickly into the past, growing smaller as I looked back. I was flying away from them, but still too far away from my destination to see the life I would have on a planet that couldn’t be seen from Beta. In my memories, they were always looking up, watching me leave them.

That is how it would be for this woman who had become my second mother. In my memories, she would always live. 

One day, I would be a Memory too.

I smiled. “We all rise.” 

—

For a bit of context, an excerpt from The Last Envoy, Chapter 2:

1938

“How old are you?” I asked.

She raised her chin, a sign of pride. “I am sixty-seven years old.” She leaned forward and patted my knee. I wasn’t sure what this meant. “You’re a lovely boy, Sherlock. I want to teach you something important.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Women don’t like being asked their age,” she said. “I don’t mind because I’m an old woman and you are a lovely young man. You don’t know all of the social nuances, but you’re a quick learner.”

“Why do women not like to be asked their age?” It seemed to me that any human ought to be proud of living so long. 

She sighed. “It’s a bit complicated. Men don’t mind saying their age. You must understand that the role of women in our society is to produce children and raise them. For that, we have to project youth and good heredity, as evidenced by our beauty. A woman hates to think that she is no longer useful, so we continue to foster the illusion that we are still young and beautiful, even when it is a ridiculous fantasy.”

“Why do you think you are not useful?” I asked. “Women are not just breeding machines; they have brains. You had an important job; you’re obviously an intelligent woman who would do a better job running the country than most men.”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I do not disagree. But these are the roles that nature has given us and society requires. Perhaps one day, we will rise above nature and society.” 

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes

#mayprompts2024 #the last envoy #my fics

[ms--lobotomy]

Mermorty on the mind. Do forgive me for pumping out 2 of these in one day, I'm just excited. [Previous] [Next]

Summary: Mertarion gets dropped off in your pool.

Word Count: 1066

Content Warnings: Unwanted touching but it's not Morty, ok yeah Typhus is kinda strange but he gets worse so yay!

Image Credit: @squishyowl

The anesthetic had been long gone, but Mortarion had still shut his eyes and tried to ignore the conversation around him. Whilst he was dozing off, the small group eventually arrived at your house. The man with long-ish black hair stopped mid-conversation and looked out of the window at it. His eyes widened.

"Shit," he said. "You never told us your other job paid that well."

"I have nobody but my publisher to thank for that one," you said. "They've cut me a pretty good deal, and I'm grateful every day for it."

"You still have to tell us what your pen name is," remarked the girl slightly taller than you. She flipped her black ponytail over her shoulder.

"I'll get there when I get there, Iris," you said, blood rushing to your face.

"Until then, I'm just going to assume you write the nastiest porn you can find on the planet," said Typhus with a playful grin. Iris's eyes widened, and she regarded Typhus with a strong side-eye, crossing her muscular arms again. Your face went even warmer, and the silence in the room was palpable.

"Jesus Christ," said the girl driving, the girl with the brown ponytail.

Typhus let out a slight chuckle, sliding a hand onto your back. You tensed up, but the young man at the back slid the door open and you all turned around at the sudden noise.

"What are we waiting for?" said the man who opened the door. "It's 5 am. Let's get him out of here before the early birds get up."

The rest of the group hoisted Mortarion onto the stretcher again as you made sure his head didn't lean off too hard. He sighed, opening his eyes. You noticed that his pupils weren't circular, but slits like a cat's. "Is my prison cell ready?" he asked, looking up at you.

"Ready to go?" asked the man who'd opened the door.

"It's saltwater," you said as the group began to walk out. "There won't be much to do down there for a bit, but I promise you, I'll try to make your stay as pleasant as possible."

He grumbled as the group turned around. "Quick question to you," said the girl with the brown ponytail. "How are we getting in?"

"Oh," you said. You snapped your head to face her before you felt Mortarion look up at you, his gaze at the bottom of your neck. You turned towards the gate, which was far too skinny for a group of seven with a stretcher to make their way through. "Oh..."

"I can carry him," said Typhus.

"You will NOT," Mortarion rumbled.

"Typhus, he's longer than my couch," you said, propping his head up again. "If he's going to be carried, we're going to need to do it as a group."

"Easy for you to say," said Iris. "We've been carrying this fucker while you hold his head or something. You're going to help us carry him this time."

"Okay," you say. "Well... let's put down the stretcher." He was maybe 6, 7 times the size of a normal human? What even was a normal human anymore? The group put down the stretcher and one by one, they hoisted their arms under him. You grabbed his head with one hand, the back of his neck with the other.

"Feeling okay?" you asked.

Mortarion sighed. "Let's make this short."

"Alright, everyone ready?" you asked, to a chorus of nods and other affirmations. "One, two, three..."

Between the seven of you, lifting him was much easier than it would have been if it were just one or two. You led, moving at the quickest pace you could, before you stopped at the side of the pool. It was a square thing, with a little circular tub near one of the corners.

"Alright," you said, your voice straining even though you had arguably the easiest job. "Let's lower him in in three, two, one..."

He sank into the pool with a wet plop, and you couldn't shake the feeling that this was like a hospital bed to him. A little less restrictive, yes, but nowhere near big enough for a merman his size. As the group began to turn towards the exit, you knelt by the pool.

"Well, you're home now," said Typhus, taking in the place again. The house was a pale peach color that looked gray in the moonlight. It was one story, with palm trees and little butterfly host plants abound in the yard. It was also very well kept, the dirt that would have crept up on most homes not often present.

Typhus slid a hand over your shoulder, and gave it a firm pat before he walked off. "See you Monday," he said, the rest of the group murmuring their farewells as they funneled through the gate and packed themselves into the vehicle. You shivered, and cast off your shoes before kneeling down towards your new charge.

"Mortarion..." you started, not sure what to say. You ran a hand along the water, and he leaned on the edge.

"You're uncomfortable."

"Well, aren't you?" you asked, dipping your toes into the water.

"I've made that apparent, but you haven't said anything about yourself."

You sighed. "Yeah... I don't like him touching me," you said. You looked down at him. His hair was already sticking to his face again. "Don't tell him if he comes back, though. I'll live."

"Your secret is safe with me," he said. "Though, I must admit, it isn't much of a secret if I could figure it out that easily."

You let out a slight chuckle. "I guess," you said. "Um... was fixing your hair and grabbing your hand too much? I really should have asked."

"I needed it," he huffed. "Now there's something not to tell anyone."

You leaned down, brushing his hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes. His lips were scarred, old scars ran along his entire face. "If there's anything you need, just let me know," you said.

"This little lake is... rather empty," he said. "Though I suppose you couldn't tell me about the plants in your... dwelling?"

"Oh!" you said, immediately lighting up. You pointed to your favorite, a tall thing with purple flowers. "Well, that one's a giant milkweed, and I don't know if you've ever seen a winged creature called a butterfly, but..."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

#warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #mortarion x reader #reader insert #mermay #mermay 2024 #mortarion #warhammer lobotomy

[faghubby]

SOFTLY DOMINATED

Paul had excpted my rule over our relationship long before we where married. When we first met in college he was a quiet boy who joined my study group. We became friends. He was cute. But very quiet, kinda short just not the type of guy I was attracted too. It was obvious that he wanted more from me. I didn't lead him on actually the opposite. I was clear I had no interest in him sexually. He became a confident. I found myself telling him about my boyfriends even my sex life.

One night after a especially bad break up and way to much alcohol I called Paul. He came out at 2 am and drove me home. In my drunken state I kissed him. More then that I threw myself at him. He got me home undressed me and tucked me into bed. He slept on the couch to make sure I was. Okay. In the morning we'll afternoon almost he made me food and took care of me. I teased him about him undressing me. This only made him apologize and blush.

"Paul truthfully, have you ever been with anyone" I asked him. He always seemed to change the subject when anyone asked him about personal relationships. But this time he looked at me.

"No" he told me. I pulled him into bed with me. I seduced him. I let him explore my body. He was hesitant at first but I pushed him. He was gentle and loving kissing every inch of my body. He made me cum with his tounge as he softly sucked my clit. We made love I took top guiding him. He took great lengths to hold out from cumming. Trying to bring me pleasure. We had not used a condom so when he could not hold back any further. He pulled out and finished on the sheets.

"OH sorry I made a mess" he said softly. I held him and giggled to myself. As I went to use the bathroom he got up and changed the sheets. "Such a good boy" I smiled

After that Paul was the most thoughtful boyfriend I had ever had. I had meant it to be that one time. Take his virginity thing but it just grew to more. It was different though. He waited till I initiated sex. He never even asked. I never once sucked his dick. Not liking it. But had done it for every single guy I had ever been with. Paul left things to me. Where, when, and what we did on dates. Often doing simple things just to show he loved me. I would come back to my shared appartment and find he cleaned it, or did my laundry. Expecting nothing more then a kind word.

There was somethings missing. I found myself wanting to taken. Paul just didn't seem willing or capable of it. This led to me cheating on him. Which he quickly forgave twice. Telling me he understood.

Six months later I asked him to marry me. He said yes. We where married 6 months after we graduated. I had landed a great job and we moved across the country away from his family. But he didn't even hesitate. He encouraged me to succeed. Even putting his own dreams on hold while I did. We where happy, but our sex life well was in a rut. Till one night I came ho,e and noticed he was wearing one of my vintage tees.

"Wearing my clothes now?" I joked. He looked down not sure he even realized it. He then smelled it.

"Smells like you" he joked. The shirt was also stretched like he had breasts. I grabbed him and kissed him.

"Well since you already are the girl in the relationship" joking since he was also wearing pink rubber gloves as he washed the dishes. I rubbed his nipples. He just let me di as ii pleased. I had his pants off bit left my shirt on him. I layed on my back and had him mount me in a squat position I knew it probably wasn't the most comfortable position with his dick pointing backwards. But I liked how he rode me. As if in a cowgirl position. Now Paul almost never came inside me, because I had told him what a mess it made inside me once. But in this position if he pulled out he would most likely cum on my chest. Something he had never done. I rubbed and pinched his nipples as he rode me.

As he got close I could see him trying to work it out.

"Go ahead cum in me baby" I cooed. He pumped his load inside me. As he pulled out.

"Ah grab a towel" I said he panicked he was not prepared. He got flustered and then suddenly just stuck his head between my legs and licked up our combined fluids. " you are such a good boy" i assured him as I played with his hair as he continued to please me with his tounge. Not stopping until I had cum.

I pulled him to me we laid on the kitchen floor holding each other.

"Jen, I um" he started.

"Shh it's okay it was really hot" I assured him.

"I know you cheated on me again" he said softly. "Two weeks ago. I tasted him in you" he continued. I was surprised I had but it had been hours I didn't think there would still be trace of him.

"Paul I am sorry, I love you" I said. Kissing him.

"I know, and if you need more It would be okay. Just don't lie to me" he was almost in tears. I held him. We eventually got up and cleaned uo order Chinese and ate it watching a romantic comedy. As we cuddled on the couch.

"Paul, would you like to explore more things like today" I asked

"I don't know what you mean" Paul said softly.

"Would you like to explore more submissive role. You know in bed" I explained. He just looked at me.

"You wore my shirt, would you like to wear more of my things?" I asked.

"Would you want me too?" He asked.

"Could be fun" I smiled. I jumped up and led him to the bedroom. I pulled out a pair of my panties. "Let's see how they fit" I laughed. He stripped and let me help him slide my panties on. I kissed him and pushed him back on the bed. I teased him and ran my hands over his ass. I stopped and rushed to the closet pulling out the box I kept my vibrator in. I returned to bed. Paul was blushing as he saw the box.

"You know what's in here?" I asked

"Yes" he said unable to look at me. I pulled out a toy and held it against his cock turning it on. Making him jump. I continued to tease him with it holding against his asshole he moaned and bucked.

"Someone likes that" I teased he was so red it was funny. I applied lube to the toy and and worked it into his hole. He moaned and came all over himself almost immediately. I was shocked as much as he was embarrassed.

After that night Paul became even more passive. Never even offering a counter opinion of me unless I asked.

"Do you play with yourself?" I asked Paul one night.

"Sometimes" he said unable to look at me.

"I like it if you wouldn't do that anymore" I told him. He just nodded.

"I tell you when I have sex without you, so from now on you will tell me when you do." I told him. Making the motion of him jerking off. I found myself finding a stud to just fuck me about every two months. Paul excepted this and would give me a long hot bath. As if washing him off of me. He often would wear my clothes when this happened as well. He didn't want to be a girl. Often wearing one of my shirts and my shorts or jeans. Telling me it made him feel closer to me.

He was so embarrassed by it I found myself having him wear my clothes out if he upset me for any reason. This led almost everytime to me playing with his ass, ( I even bought a strapon) and feeding him his cum in some way. He loved this but also saw it as a punishment because it embarrassed him so much.