#Reader Interactive

[2kmps]

PERSIMMON & INK ; PT ONE OF TWO

yakuza!getō suguru x tattoo artist!reader| 1/2 | wc; 12.9k

story summary; you're a tattoo artist hidden amidst the bustle of shinjuku city and renown with tourists. due to a misstep of your shady employee, you're visited one night at closing by an eerily beautiful man in a disheveled suit and no tie requesting an intricate back piece done traditionally. the undertaking slowly begins to unthread your life piece-by-piece the closer you get to him until there is no way out.

story warnings; dark content, yakuza au!, details about tattooing, traditional tattooing (tebori), money laundering, injuries to mc, implied death of oc, manipulation, power imbalance, a bunch of cultish shit, mc doesn't fuck around and is a hardass + sort of a bully to their employee, sex w/ injury, getō smokes, mc dogging on foreigners, implied stalking, prose + detail heavy, explicit sexual content, heavily implied homicide, graphic details of violence + wounds.

read the warnings! + mdni! events within this story are not indicative of my personal viewpoints.

thank you @ceruleansol for your earlier proofreading efforts! appreciative, as always!

a/n: this is part one of two. i strongly implore that you reblog & interact with this post! it helps out authors tremendously when you do!

A silvery peal called out to the little shop stifled in past-midnight silence. During regular business hours, it was a good sound to hear; it meant that your next client had parked their feet through the threshold behind a closed door and jittered a bell hanging by a red string. In this case, you hadn't been fast enough to flick off the neon signage anchored into the building outside, nor set the deadbolt to signal the shop had retired for the night.

You were still hard at work wiping down your workspace, the last appointment of the night having taken several hours longer than intended with a squeamish foreigner who couldn't bite his knuckles long enough for you to finish linework on his ankle.

"It's past midnight. Come back some other time," you said, inflectionless, unwilling to be deterred in your task. It didn't occur to you to even give this newcomer the time of day by looking at them. "I have all my information online. Email for appointment bookings."

"Oh, really? That's too bad," replied the stranger, voice traceless of the frustration you were accustomed to when turning people away at odd hours. "I was told this would be a better time to come by for a consultation."

That made you jolt upright, swiveling toward the man standing inside your shop. Strangely, you hadn't anticipated the way he sounded when he spoke—affable, syrupy, and an elegant, fluid stroke on glazed canvas—to be so different from how he looked—tall, lean, refined with a sort of edge to him that'd intrigue anyone in a room he walked into.

Apart from his appearance, something you couldn't be sure was real with him bathed in the faint neon-red glow from flickering bulbs filtering in through the windows, you were drawn to the somewhat disheveled suit he wore. It looked like something a salaryman uniformed himself in while sitting on his ass for twelve hours in one of Tokyo's skyscrapers.

He doesn't have a tie. That stood out to you at this late hour.

"I didn't tell you that." You suspected who did and let your voice rise above the pitch of the checkered wall clock and drone of an oscillating ceiling fan directly above you. "Kōji! Get out here!"

From the depths of your little shop, tucked away in the furthest corner behind a door painted the same morose gray as the walls flanking it, there was a great ruckus—a chair tipping over, a body smashing to the floor, and feet fumbling over and over again until a weaselly fellow skittered out into the parlor.

"Ye-yeah? What's up? Time to—"

"Get this guy scheduled for a consultation for next month." Nothing prepared you for the way Kōji's color sank out of his cheeks and neck when you turned toward him. You pushed onward boldly, "I'm booked out for the next few weeks. Since you told him he could come by whenever, take responsibility and get him out."

Kōji's eyes were so much bigger, the whites of them showing, knuckles turning stark when his hand grasped your forearm, and he hinged forward at his waist, bowing so low you thought he'd fall forward.

"Thank you so much for your patience." Kōji sprung back up, feet popping into the air as he whisked you away into the back office, still repeatedly dipping his head to this man. "Please, give us a couple of minutes, and we'll be right with you."

"No worries." The suit guy smiled at you, catching your gaze before the gray door was pulled shut in your face. "Take your time."

Inside the dinky space, surrounded by unsteady towers of boxes brimming with all the things your second-floor apartment couldn't handle without making the walls burst at the seams, Kōji still had a hold on you. This time, however, both his hands gripped your arms, hot and clammy on your bare skin.

"You can't tell him to leave." Kōji hesitated to take any stance against you, any tone that could be implicated as threatening or domineering. Even through his quivering breaths, he tried to sound firm.

You looked at him incredulously, neck craning back in hopes it got the message across. It was easy enough to sweep away his hands. "The fuck, I can. It's my shop. Tell him to get out."

Kōji let his posture sag, whittling deep into himself as his fingers came together to pick at minuscule slithers of skin that left raw spots around his nails. He shook his head. "Not someone like him."

"Kōji—"

He was trying hard not to stick the underside of a fingernail between his teeth. A couple months ago, he had told you he wanted to kick the habit because he couldn't stand looking at his hands. This job and his natural disposition worked against him—long hours pouring over finances and bookkeeping, tucked away in a tiny room with a humming desk fan and no windows, would be enough to drive anyone's anxiety through the roof.

It wasn't ideal for him, you knew that, and suggested that he move his workstation around the shop or to the front-end counter as long as he didn't disturb the flow you kept going with clients. Worse than the isolation was his aversion to handling any potential customer interaction.

That's what made this so odd to you, so strange that he simply reiterated time and time again, "We can't kick him out," anytime you'd try to get anything else in word wise.

You had to back up, put some pressure against the new pulse in your temples. Kōji let his gaze flutter around the room, never steadying on your face for long enough for you to get a better read on him. His hair and neck were soaked with sweat. Beads of it dripped from his brow onto his shoes, leaving glistening, branching paths behind that never quite dried before more took their place.

It came to you then, just as a guess but one with enough certainty that dread wound itself against your spine and made you fidget.

"Is that—is he part of a gang?"

Kōji did a lot of work to keep his eyes off of you, still, lips thin and wet with sweat that he lapped away.

No confirmation was a confirmation—you launched yourself at him, wringing fistfuls of his stiff button-up until it was tight against him. You felt the heat of his body through the fabric wrapped around your hands.

He was shorter than the man in the parlor, but still taller than you. His feet stayed planted on the floor as you brought his face down to your height. "Did you fucking tell the yakuza about my shop, Kōji?! Is he here because of you?!"

"No, no! Not me! Not me!" Kōji wailed, crumbling beneath your bulbous stare. "Not on purpose! I swear! I swear! It was an accident. I was at lunch with… some friends, and I mentioned that I was working here. I guess word got around!"

"So, you're having lunch with criminals now?!" You wanted to wring his neck. It was physically impossible to bring yourself any closer to him without tasting the salty drops on his skin. "Are you insane?!"

Since the start of Kōji's employment years ago, you knew that he was a leery character, and having him on board to handle the more mundane, unsavory parts of running a business wasn't your best call to judgment. Still, he was efficiently organized in a way that made sense. He was fast and dedicated enough in doing things right that you stopped asking yourself questions about what antics he did on the side.

Up until now, he had never brought anything from the outside in to disrupt your status quo, the fine-tuned, well-oiled gears that kept your business running and clientele coming around like revolving doors. This was an entirely different ordeal, though, and you didn't know how to handle it.

You let Kōji whimper around your fists for a while longer, releasing him only once you were ready for a deep breath.

"I don't care." you said, taking a wide step away from him as your fingers scouted through all of the pockets on your person. There was one stick of gum left in your hoodie that went straight into your mouth. "I don't care. Stop being a fucking wuss and fix your mistake. Get him out of my shop."

Kōji gasped, scuttling closer to you just as his skinny, knobby knees bent inward and trembled. The weight of his body nearly toppled you when he went down to the floor, hands on your clothes. "No, no. Please. If you—if you turn him away, he'll tell the others, and who knows what'll happen to… us."

The selfish little imp actually meant himself.

It killed you to acknowledge that he wasn't wrong. You knew as much about the movements and customs of crime syndicates in Japan as anyone else, probably even less than the regular citizen, but they were still criminals with tight fists on the economy and underground.

All it would take is one bad remark and everything you had worked for would be razed to the ground.

"Who is he?" You pushed him off by the shoulders. "Who is that guy?"

You didn't like his silence, how his face warped, and his eyes fell to the white tips of your shoes. "Kōji."

Slowly, he answered, "He's the kingpin of the Uzumaki-kai."

"Goddamnit."

He stayed sniveling on the floor while you scrambled around the back office, turning over boxes and water-stained folders for particular papers you needed to go forward. Once you had them, you blotted the tip of an ink pen on your tongue, ripping a piece of white printer paper out from the tray and beginning a frantic scrawl that you weren't even sure was discernible.

You weren't in that room with Kōji for more than twenty minutes, reemerging into the parlor to find him—Getō Suguru, boss of the Uzumaki-kai—still waiting for you exactly where you'd left him. Only now, the smile he greeted you with was smug, shoulders lax against the door with one foot hiked up on it.

He had heard the entire thing, all of your shouts and Kōji's perilous pleas. The walls weren't as thick as you wished they were.

"You should find a different artist who specializes in the kind of work you want." you said, spreading your array of papers out on the front counter. The pen dotted your tongue once more before touching them, a messy signature left behind on black condemning lines.

"I've looked at your portfolio online." He had come closer, eyes set on the motions of your pen flying across paper. "It's the best I've seen in Tokyo."

There was something in his words that rang sweet and untrue. With Tokyo being one of the foremost tourist magnets in the world, attracting domestic business and foreign intrigue, competition amongst tattoo shops during peak seasons was staggering. You were part of the cluster of shops preferring to bring in international clientele because they were lured with anything quick and easy and cheap.

Simply put, they were your revolving door. Kōji monitored your shop's social media presence well, eyeballing analytics, trends, and patterns in the algorithm, so you stayed a persistent pest on the front page most days. Whatever moves he pulled worked, filled the books until you were writing in last second, twenty-minute appointments against the seams in your spiral bound to keep tabs.

You'd see anywhere from eight to twelve clients on the worst of days, most of them coming from overseas to tour the city or countryside. Every one of them chose premade designs from a catalog you kept nearby, all work you had committed to muscle memory and knew so well you could do the line work without a stencil and let your mind float somewhere else.

These foreigners wanted memorability, everlasting art imbued with stories from their exotic balmy summertime getaway where they stayed in air-conditioned hotels and shops and harassed the locals because it gave them a swell of adrenaline, a sense of adventure from the belief that they were in possession of more culture now than they had been before.

They tried to talk to you about those things because when they'd first see you, stepping under the chiming little bell, there was a brightness in their eyes of knowing you weren't someone who belonged—just like them. After so many years in the business, you were conversationally fluent in several languages but pretended not to be for all of two or three.

"I'll do it, but—" You pulled yourself from that reverie, pen flipping through your fingers for him to take. "You have to sign a bunch of waivers and there are conditions."

Getō had waited for you in well-tempered silence for several minutes and maintained that even now with a neutral expression. "Can you explain them to me?"

"The waivers are pretty standard," you said, shifting your weight against the counter. "The first three are making sure you understand the risk of scarring, infection, colors bleeding together. Fourth one is a liability waiver."

When you reached the final piece of paper buried beneath all the rest, the one you had handwritten and hastily signed, his eyes were gleaming with intrigue.

"What's this?"

There wasn't much to it, really, just a single paragraph on a bleach-white background, one blank line below your signature with enough room for a timestamp after it.

You made sure it was in his hand before you spoke again. "This is a rigid waiver agreeing that if I do your tattoo, you can't tell anyone you're associated with about this shop.

Getō wore an aloof smile. "What are you implying? I never said—"

"Stop trying to make me sound fucking stupid." You winced after the fact, not intending for it to have come out so aggressive. "Either sign it or leave, please. If anyone finds out you came here, it could ruin my business."

All but the ticking wall clock, a jarring neon against a backdrop of dark walls, and the ceiling fan with its monotonous beat from spinning blades had kept your shop from catapulting into silence.

You hadn't realized it until now, not until Getō had taken many long moments to examine the papers you'd given him and wordlessly signed them, that your chest was starting to ache from how hard your heart rammed your ribs.

You couldn't believe this was happening.

A snare formed in your throat once he finished printing the date and time on your special waiver, pen aside, papers stacked together as he tapped them on the countertop so they were neat.

He held them out to you, still with a beguiling smile that betrayed everything he represented. "Could I get copies? I'd like them for myself too."

You smeared sweaty palms down the back of your sweatpants, flexing out your fingers over and over until you felt sure enough that you could handle those papers without trembling. This must've been how Kōji felt when he had walked in earlier.

"I'll be back." Your bow was stiff and slight, probably an affront, but he let you go, turning to find a home on one of your low couches in the corner and started perusing the pages of your catalog displayed crookedly on an acrylic table in front of him.

It was all you could do to not slam the office door behind you, to intentionally scare the soul straight out of Koji's ass for putting you in this hard spot. If he weren't such an integral part of keeping this place afloat, you'd have fired him ages—years ago.

"I need copies," was everything you needed to say to make Kōji rifle through his arsenal of ridiculous expressions. He shrank under your stare, sliding deeper into his seat behind his desk. "You still need to be back here at eleven."

"Yes, I know." he mumbled, handing you fresh copies after stapling them together. You let the warmth sit on your hands for a while. "Do you want me to leave?"

Truthfully, you didn't want to be alone with Getō. You wanted to yell at Kōji a little more.

"Yeah. Get out of here."

And he ran.

A part of you hoped that Getō would've gotten bored with how long this entire process had been just to sign some flimsy agreements and listen to you pitch a fit at your employee. You prayed that the fleeting glance Kōji had made to the corner of the room was to check, not to confirm.

You stepped out into your workspace, boldly expecting to see it bathed in nothingness and shadows—but he was still there.

Getō let the tip of his shoe, a pointy closed-toe, jerk with the sounds of your wall clock. His leg was crossed, your catalog still splayed across his thigh as he looked at your preset designs, work made to appease the masses and feed into their fiction of Japan. You had half the hope that he'd be turned off by them and change his mind.

"What you're offering here and what's on your website are completely different."

This guy was observant.

You didn't like that.

"I get a lot of travelers." It crossed your mind to rip the book out of his hands. "They're the ones who make up the bulk of my business. My website hosts my professional work. It's what I prefer to do."

He didn't look up, continuing to leaf through the pages with long, lithe fingers. "So, you cater to foreigners, then?"

"My shop is small. It's just me and Kōji here. This place has to stay running somehow." You weren't sure why you were explaining yourself to him. "If that's something that bothers you, I can shred these papers, and you can find another artist."

Getō let his smile return, closing the catalog to drop it back onto the table. As though to challenge your stubbornness, he took the copies from you and skimmed them one more time.

"Thank you." He moved those aside too, now wholly focused on you. "Do you have time tonight to hear out my ideas?"

You were facing the wall clock now; it was almost two in the morning. If he wanted something more complex, it would take hours to work up a sketch for him. And that was being so bold to believe he'd like it on the first try.

"Got a deposit?" you asked. "Nonrefundable, of course."

He paid you what you wanted right then and there, to your complete astonishment. The price you had given him was astronomical, an act of spontaneity that you decided you'd pose to him as a joke if he got mad or guarded with severity.

No questions.

No doubt.

Just the warm clip of folded yen from his pocket that he didn't even look over. The yakuza were historically a stingy bunch, but he didn't even do a second sweep, didn't try to double back on you, and didn't seem to care.

"Let me get my stuff." You left the cash off to the side on the acrylic table. It was your equivalent of a cat showing its belly good-naturedly.

The money was still there when you returned with a tablet stuck under the sweat of your armpit and two mugs of tea, an act of hospitality you didn't often invoke mostly because you didn't care. These were dire circumstances, though, and you couldn't put it out of your mind (or nerves) that you were walking on thin ice laden with eggshells.

"It isn't anything fancy." You put your things down before handing him his mug. "It's from some random box I grabbed at the store."

Getō gave his thanks and took it from you, first sips coming as soon as he could bring his lips to it. He made no mention about the flavor or quality, didn't look at it with any amount of suspicion. It simply rested there against his palms while he waited patiently.

He was defeating every stereotype of yakuza that you had adopted from the movies and media. If it weren't for Kōji being a scummy little rat who liked hanging around trash in his off time and believing all of his reactions from a while ago, you'd be convinced that Getō wasn't affiliated at all.

A businessman with questionable practices, maybe, but not a greater part of the underbelly of society.

"It's a sort of complicated idea." He rearranged his legs so they were spread wide, back sinking into the worn green leather. Another sip. "Tell me if I should slow down."

True to his word, the tattoo he wanted was ambitious, terrifyingly ambitious, and something better left to a specialized skill set, not someone who bounced around between commercialized brand characters and bastardized interpretations of The Great Wave by Hokusai.

"I'd like the dragon to be white." Getō was partway through his explanation, now sitting forward on the edge of the couch, an elbow pointed down on a thigh to cradle his cheek. He was invested. "The eyes, hm, yellow or gold. You can choose what'd go best for the inside of its mouth. I want the head of it in the top left—"

"Hold on." You sighed, managing a lukewarm drink from your tea. "So, to go about the white, there are a couple of options: we leave that space empty, so it'll be your skin tone. Most people get dragons that are red or green or black. It'd be better to try that if you—"

"It has to be white." He looked at you the same, but his words were razored in a way so slight yet unmistakable. "What else can be done?"

"Well"—the leather creaked against your back the deeper you dug into it—"I could do white ink. I could get it opaque, but the problem with it is that it fades drastically; you'd need it retouched every couple of years."

"I see." His smile was wider. "I like that idea. Let's go with that."

You frowned. "You do know that white ink is expensive, right? So the price is going to jack up, and there's more pain involved since I'll have to apply more pressure."

"That's fine with me."

More specifics for the work he wanted flooded in: He wanted to start with his back, covering every bit of surface from his neck down to his tailbone. Afterward, he would branch out to both arms and finish the design over his breasts. It certainly aligned with artistry you've seen done by yakuza tattooists; the entire point of them was to be seen by those who mattered, easily concealed to those who didn't.

Most of the real estate was going to the white dragon with gold eyes first, the rest of it going to freestyle characters from fiction such as kuchisake-onna and religious iconography that he pursued with quite a bit of insistence.

You sketched until four in the morning, arranging characters and wispy, dreamy clouds. Long whiskers floated away from the dragon's snout, while the teeth you gave it were more comically blunt and human-like rather than jagged and threatening, a detail he seemed particularly delighted to see.

"What's with the Buddhist symbols?" You had to bring out your laptop to research those, settling on a few he gave a nod to. "Are you some kind of priest? This is a pretty specific scene you're giving me."

"It came to me in a dream." he said.

What a weirdo. Your fingers ached and cramped by the time you finished the draft, stylus leaving deep impressions in your skin that you were sure had knocked bone a few times.

From up close, you weren't too partial to how it looked like an amalgam of things surrounding all of the labor you put into specifics of the dragon, but when you moved it away, it came together like some hazy dreamscape.

"I should tell you why I chose you in the first place," was what he said when you spun the tablet around for him.

You had the device facing you again, pen notched through your fingers to apply some simple colors to the design. "I thought it was because you were enamored with me and my online portfolio."

Getō stared at you, humoring your joke with a smile even though you didn't see it. He stayed slouched over his thighs, fist moving to the side of his head to keep him upright.

"I'm looking for this to be done traditionally."

The tablet flattened on your lap, stylus rolling off of it onto the floor. You couldn't believe you didn't think of this. If he really was part of a crime syndicate, of course he would want all of the work done traditionally.

"That's going to bring in a whole host of problems." You let your thumb hover dangerously close to the trash bin button in the top right of the screen. "First of all, the overall cost of this is going up by twice what I've already quoted you."

"No worries." Getō shrugged his shoulders. "I've done my research."

But you weren't done. "Healing time will be reduced, but some of my clients have told me it's more painful than a machine."

"I'm not 'some' of those clients." he rejoined.

You were suddenly wishing your tea wasn't cold so you could disappear into it for a while. The tablet ran hot on your thighs, dragging your eyes back down to the drawing, thoughts flitting through what it'd mean for business, expenses in versus expenses out, and how committing to this would solidify you as a yakuza artist.

It would be inescapable and follow your reputation into the ground if Getō ever spread word about it.

"This back piece is going to take me a really long time to do for you. A machine cuts that time in half." Maybe you could beg him to change his mind.

He wouldn't budge. "Yes, I'm well aware."

"So"—fine then, you'd give him something to reconsider—"you know for the sake of longevity that traditional isn't going to be the best? Machines are able to apply more force into the skin and move faster. Because you'll be relying on me instead of a machine, your line work will start to bleed within a few years and your color is going to fade pretty significantly, too."

If he was dissuaded, Getō never let on because he grinned. "You were the right choice, after all."

That ended the discussion and your night. Your eyes felt dry in their sockets, rolling them towards the wall where you read a big black number “5” on its clear plastic face. Getō didn't share that same urgency. He hadn't even checked a watch or a phone the entire time he was with you.

"Remember," you said, your tone daring, "you signed an agreement to not tell anyone about this place. I expect you to keep your word."

"Of course. I wouldn't consider breaking it in my wildest dreams." Effortless and gentle, he said this to you with fondness that felt oddly misplaced. "After all, we prefer choosing our artists. And, now, you're mine. I'll see you soon."

You locked the door after him without saying anything, losing track of his body through the window as he went somewhere under the shadows cast by taller buildings close by.

This time, you made sure to flip off the neon signage that had been glowing outside all night long.

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The Uzumaki-kai had started out under a different name in the forties, one seemingly redacted from all publications shortly after the change. It had a tumultuous history with frequent power shifts and internal disputes that had left it nearly eradicated by the seventies until Yorimitsu Asahi climbed to the peak of the hierarchy. Within ten years, membership tripled, revenue increased into the billions, and nearly all records of their exploits had dropped off the edge.

Kōji had hit a dead end in his research for you, an attempt to give you some peace of mind in what you were dealing with. The idea was to hit the ground running, so when Getō came back around, you'd have some vague notion of what to expect. But all you were able to do was skim the surface of an, allegedly, power-hungry and morally depraved bunch of men and women.

The most recent details of their movements dated back two years ago, whereas the more credible sources haven't reported anything for nearly seven. In the earlier articles by a journalist gone undercover, they had a significant hand in the economy, mainly through casinos, prostitution, and ties to religious institutions.

You had to let out a groan because Kōji hit a wall—again. All of the latest news you could find were just sensationalist reprints about how they were actively scouting people, or giving charity to orphans, and where the yakuza ranked in the world amongst other crime syndicates.

"Hey." Getō was standing in front of you, just on the other side of your counter. "Ready to get this started?"

Snapping shut your laptop had been an instinctual response. A flush of adrenaline in your veins was chased away by the cold creep of fear reaching up your spine. This wasn't the same as mom catching you watching porn or a teacher hovering close enough to see you cheat.

This was the chill of knowing you were digging into things you shouldn't be.

"Wel—welcome back." You didn't mean it but bowed your head low anyway. "I never got a chance to schedule you in. It'll take me a while to set up, if you'd want to come back another day."

Getō had his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed just like the last time, and looked around the small square footage of your shop. It was big enough to arrange a few compact pieces of furniture in the corner, give breathing space for a couple of bodies in the middle while you worked on them, and the front-end counter where you sat.

You made use of decorative shelving to display all the things that customers wanted to see: bottles of ink, strange art, little trinkets to give the place some interest so you wouldn't have to be. Everything else was shoved into the back office to clog up Kōji's space or upstairs in your apartment where you could fit it.

"No." Getō took a walk over to one of the shelves, a collection of inks you had arranged by color family. "I'd like to start today. I can wait for you to set up."

"Okay." You licked your lips. "Yup. That's fine. Kōji!"

With Kōji's help, what would've taken you close to an hour to prepare for Getō was whittled down to about thirty minutes. Just one look and the smarmy guy took on a more diminutive attitude, convincing you that if you were to walk away and come back, he'd probably be spit-shining the tops of Getō's shoes.

At least he wasn't sweating all over the floor again. You could watch the fragile flattery without completely twisting in disgust.

"One thing you didn't do last time was confirm that you were happy with the sketch." You had Kōji fetch your tablet and bring it up to show him. "Also, I refuse to start unless you have payment upfront. That was something else we didn't discuss."

"Th–that's a joke." Kōji sputtered.

You looked straight at Getō. "You're yakuza asking me for an extremely elaborate piece done traditionally with a lot of white ink. I have a right to want to protect my time and resources."

"I agree. The sketch is perfect." Getō said, fluid strides bringing him less than a couple of feet away. "Do you prefer cash or card?"

You were seeing him in the daylight, not awash in flickering neon or shrinking away into shadows, and he was absolutely breathtaking. It made you think how easy it'd be to lure someone into the Uzumaki-kai by his looks alone.

Payment had been seamless enough, a quick transaction that Kōji verified before scuttling out of the shop for the evening. You were left with this man, this dangerous, handsome man, to undress in front of you, casually peeling layers of his suit away until the first slithers of pale skin sent your gaze to the instrument in your fingers.

Getō only removed his jacket and button-up since his back piece alone would take months to complete, a damning thing to realize once you thought about it.

This just felt too real.

This was really happening, and all you wanted to do was blame Kōji for putting you in this position.

"So, what you're going to do is lie down." You slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and gestured to the massage table behind him. A white sheet had been placed over the black leather underneath. "If you need extra padding, let me know. Since we're building this entire piece around the white dragon, that's what I'm focusing on for now."

He leaned his weight against the table, hands back in his pockets. You tried keeping your eyes off his chest, off of his defined pectorals and abdomen, away from the thickness of his arms. The knowing smile inching onto his lips proved that you had failed.

"I'm going to be using a projector to position the image on your back, draw it out with a marker, and start with the needles." You could finally show him the thing in your hand. It was a long glazed stick with a metal ferrule attaching a row of sterile needles at the tip. "You'll feel me stretch your skin and start poking. It makes a weird sound because of how it needs to be angled, how it goes into the skin."

You took a breath, and he actually laughed.

"That was a mouthful." He hinged forward, bringing his face closer to the rod. "Not quite as 'traditional' as I thought it would be."

"There are modern adaptations to everything. It used to be bamboo, this is made from persimmon." you said, lowering the instrument onto a silver tray next to all the others of varying sizes. "What makes it traditional is the technique applied. I guarantee your buddies aren't going to back-alley places in Japan and having someone stab their backs with unsterilized needles tied to a piece of wood."

His dark eyes followed your path to the projector, watching you flip the switch and cast an image of the dragon on the table. "You never know. Some of them just don't know any better. They don't always have the best show of judgment. They need guidance."

You had something to say to that but thought better of all your organs and didn't. "Cool. Get on the table so we can start."

The landscape of his back was as defined and lovely as the front of him. You waited until the white dragon was scaled down to the appropriate size and positioned over him to touch his skin, letting your fingertips soak up all his warmth.

"We'll see how far I get today," you were saying, dragging a narrow marker tip across the broad sprawl of him. "It's going to take me longer than it usually does, and I don't really go longer than eight-hour appointments."

"There's plenty of time." This guy had infinite patience, it seemed.

And when the time came for the first prods with your needles, you paused to ask, "Need a break? Want some background noise?"

"I'm talking to you," he said, pulling a few straggling pieces of ebony hair over his shoulder. "That’s enough for me." It sounded ridiculous when he said it and worse when it replayed in your head. "What made you want to practice traditionally?"

You were already in several jabs, wiping down between them to keep a visual of what you were doing. "My mentor is one of the best traditional artists in Japan. I learned everything from him. He used to work in Osaka, I'm not sure about now. I lost contact with him years ago."

"That's too bad." he said. "Have you thought about looking for him?"

The last thing you were interested in was talking about finding people with yakuza, so after a few more pokes along the middle of his back, dipping into that pretty region that made his waist look so waspy, you decided to flip the script.

"What about you? Did you just dream about joining a gang, or…?"

He shifted his cheek to his arms, looking along his nose at your hunched shoulders. "Would you believe me if I gave you an answer?"

You dabbed his skin. "Probably not."

There wasn't much of a lull in conversation before he was onto the next topic, steering away from the niceties onto the real things he wanted to ask. You had been around the block a time or two; you knew the look people got when they had certain questions stewing inside their heads.

The only thing that ever stopped them was the devastatingly desperate aversion to kicking up dust and drama in public, and probably because they weren't yakuza.

Getō was the opposite in this scenario, so you lost.

"Where are you from?" There it was.

You sucked in a breath. "Gifu prefecture."

"That's not what I meant." He was still observing you with all the self-possession of a saint, but also unflinching obstinance that you couldn't get out of by hijacking the conversation again. "You weren't born in Japan, were you? Isn't it pretty bold of you to play off foreigners' lack of awareness for profit?"

As you swiped at the traces of ink and blood that coalesced into a single ugly bead, you noticed he hadn't winced once the entire time you pushed ink.

Would he if you stabbed him a little harder?

"That's a long story." Stab. Stab. Stab. His expression remained beautiful and pristine. "I don't feel like answering it."

He smiled. "Hm."

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The game of twenty questions spilled over from one session into the next, weeks apart, yet Getō always remembered where you both left off like he was troubling himself to commit all the contents of a crumpled-up list to memory. Sometimes, between a peaceful interlude that rendered conversation bare, the flawless terrain of his back stretched between your fingers as your needles sunk deep, you'd think to yourself that had he been any other man—you'd be impressed by the effort.

Unlike other scenarios that leaned in your favor, boorish foreign men left unanswered when they'd talk about your body—where were you hiding tattoos? Under your clothes? Can we see? They'd laugh with one another because they almost always traveled in groups. Questions morphed into ugliness when they translated silence to incompetence; quips turned lewd and derogatory, but you no longer existed to them because you couldn't talk back.

That luxury of feigning ignorance wasn't packaged with Getō, having had lured that nugget of trivia out of you by the end of his first session. He never said those things about you, never let his inquisitiveness or eyes roam like you already had him. It was disgusting how being beneath his stare made you feel so vulnerable, stripped down to nothing but your underwear without that ever happening, without him ever having touched you.

You told yourself you'd be relieved the second this piece was finally finished, and he'd be gone from your shop for good.

"How long have you been a tattoo artist?"

But, still, for now, this little game with him continued, and he led the way.

"About ten years." No one had asked you that before, so it took you a few seconds for you to respond. Even then, you weren't entirely certain that was right. "Yeah, probably about ten years."

"Hm." Getō was in the habit of making that sound to quite a few of your answers. "You don't look it."

You jolted upright in your chair, fingers lifting away from his back just as you gave your tongue a reproachful click. All it would take would be one hard open-palm slap right against the sorest spot on his back to put him in a world of hurt and permanently fuck up the ink under his skin. You'd absolutely have your throat slit or neck snapped at the gallows, but it would be well worth the risk at this moment.

"What the hell is that—"

Getō's mellifluous laughter made your anger whittle to heat behind the ears before any words even made it out of his mouth. He tried keeping his back still. "Haha, sorry, that came out wrong. I meant: you look too young to have been doing this for ten years."

Good recovery. Smooth man.

You weren't nearly as amicable. "Aren't you too old to be playing pretend with a bunch of other guys?"

He let air out hard through his nostrils, lips pulling his smile wide enough for you to see the wet glisten on his white teeth.

"Fair enough."

Time crept along like that for the pair of you, multiple sessions coming and going with inconsequential banter that was always more upsetting to you than it ever was to him. Somewhere along the way, you had been convinced that Getō was unflappable—impossible to rouse to anger, regardless of the times your clap-backs had taken a personal edge, aiming to bury deeper than any of your needles could reach.

It was enough when he'd frown, his pretty mouth pressed firm and drawn down. Oddly, when he'd look at you like that, it was reminiscent of something wholly unsettling, pulled from some deep recess in your memory that you couldn't quite put a finger on until it happened again one evening.

You had taken things a bit too far, reminding yourself that it was better to keep your distance from him. All it would take was one wrong comment on one bad day for this rapport to come crashing down on you with every bit of the same force as a tsunami, ruining everything you had built.

Getō had decided he needed a break, something uncharacteristic in the months you had spent with him as your client, and got up from the table. He couldn't go far without covering his back, so he stayed wedged between the inside and outside, trapped in the door and setting off the delicate, jangling bell overhead more times than you were comfortable with.

He had looked at you before walking away, though, that frown marring his visage, weighing down his beauty with cavernous shadows around his mouth. You acted like Kōji in that moment, feeble and pathetic, withering into a smaller version of yourself so maybe he'd show mercy.

Between those tense minutes, until he returned to the massage table, you figured out what made his disapproval so familiar.

It was like burdening the weight of a disappointed parent, like knowing you had failed another test in school, and your teacher was delivering results with that same sort of dissatisfaction while peeking over their glasses at you.

You felt like you were being reprimanded in the way only someone with influence on your life could have.

It really rubbed you the wrong way.

"Sorry." It was a hard word for you to say. Getō was on his stomach again, cheek pressed atop his arms so he could look at you. "Sometimes, I get carried away. Guess that's what I get for spending all my time with Kōji."

Cue a loud sneeze from the back office.

His placid smile was a relief to see. "You should get out more often and see other guys."

There was no disputing that fact. Besides your mainly male clientele, Kōji was the only man you were in any regular contact with. Life had a way of keeping people apart, widening the gaps of time from months into years, wearing away at those delicate threads of friendship until they were all but frayed and irreplaceable.

It was simply the natural progression of adulthood, and it was boring and terribly lonely. Tattooing made your life easier, numbed you to becoming just another downtrodden drunk hunched over a glass full of glowing gold, lusting after the bare minimum of affection from anyone.

This job kept your head above water, just enough so you could forget all of that and spend your time exactly how you wanted to—

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

His question hit you full throttle, stealing the breath from your lungs as though he had landed a fist into your gut. It was just a few nonchalant words, an easy way to keep the conversation flowing, yet it had set your heart aflutter. You heard the rhythm of it ricocheting in your skull. It was suddenly so much harder to hold his skin taut, fingertips slipping inside the nitrile gloves you wore.

"A boyfriend?" A word that sat heavy on your tongue, unfamiliar, flustering you. "I don't have the time for that."

Getō shifted on the bed, something he usually didn't do without warning you beforehand. You let him get situated, taking that moment to also change your gloves beneath the table after patting them dry on your thighs. The skin around your fingertips had swelled and indented from moisture, further augmenting agitation.

He was gazing ahead now, narrow chin cradled in a slot made by his fingers. You couldn't tell what he was looking at since you kept so much stuff mounted on the walls to detract attention from you. It could've been anything.

You did think his vision aligned with your catalog of preset designs, though, leaving you just a little more self-conscious than his question had already made you.

When he did say something, his smile didn't quite reach how despondent he sounded, "It seems like no one has the time anymore. We've all lost our way."

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Getō came by astonishingly early one day with the earthiness of a good brew wafting all around him. The shop had been open less than an hour, giving you just enough time to unlock the entrance and flip on all the signage before he walked in.

The little bell signaled him, both your eyes and nose lured by the cheery sound of it as well as the scent. You had expected to see Kōji at first; it wasn't unlike him to show up before his scheduled shift. Years of cubicle servitude had a way of battering people into automated drones. Workers like him might as well have been walking on conveyor belts their entire lives—going somewhere without actually getting anywhere.

Kōji also only survived off of his thirty-two-ounce thermos sloshing with coffee. Sometimes he'd share with you so you wouldn't need to deplete the shop's supply or climb two flights of stairs to your apartment to make some, but more often than not, he was halfway through that gigantic flask by midafternoon.

So to see that it was Getō taking languid strides up to your counter with two coffee cups, palms wrapped around slithers of cardboard to keep his skin from blistering, you had to correct a grimace.

"Getō." You used his name tentatively, always sparingly. It tasted unwelcome on your tongue, like the smoky bitterness of charred meat or the tang of vomit that burned through your nostrils and made your mouth salivate. "I didn't have you down for today. I have other clients coming in later."

"I'm sure they don't mind rescheduling." He smiled as usual, but the finality behind his words sent quakes down your spine. "I don't know how you take your coffee, so I just asked for cream and sugar. I'm more partial to tea, but sometimes it just doesn't give the kick I'm looking for."

You meticulously avoided his fingers as he handed over one of the cups. The lid was marked with your initials, an act of thoughtfulness you would've been moved by had he—once again—been anyone else.

For Getō, he simply watched you with a tired, satiated smile as though the very notion of buying you coffee was worthy of some ovation. For you, seeing those black lines smear and spear outward across the white lid as dainty wisps of steam escaped wherever they could felt damning.

"How is it?" he asked, lips caressing the lifted rim of his own beverage. "You can be honest."

He sipped at the same time as you, pacing himself so your cups tilted simultaneously, eyes locked on tight, evaluating your slightest flinch. A hot trickle reached your tongue and crawled down your throat, feeling as though it were blooming out into your lungs and veins. It was known by him as well, like sharing the same experience, tipping the same cup and tasting those faint traces of one another, emulating warmth against your lips and in your mouth, lessening whatever uneasy longing he had started to spur inside of you.

You didn't know if the shudder that rattled down along your back came from the penetrating depths of his dark eyes or the bitter drink sinking into your cheeks, making you pucker.

Time forwarded for you again after that. The wall clock continued its eternal rotation, bustling bodies passed your shop, and you had lost those few seconds as though trapped in a dream.

"Did I add too much sugar?" Getō acted the same, perfectly pleasant smile seeming more like a fastened feature to you these days. "You sort of winced."

You set the cup down, ducking away from the front counter to collect your things out of the back office.

"It was actually too bitter for me."

Kōji came through the threshold about an hour later with some semblance of urgency, nearly knocking the door wide enough for it to slam into the wall. All of the color bled out of his cheeks, leaving his face a ghostly hue once he realized he was on the receiving end of Getō's stare. You were hunkered over his back, hands at work with the long stick and needles.

"If you break something, it's coming out of your paycheck." you drawled, so thoroughly enveloped by the black tracks left behind from your ink that you didn't notice Kōji's uneasiness turn into dewy skin and a beading forehead.

"I—can I talk to you in the back for a second?" Kōji hung onto every word, testing the sound of them while gauging Getō's quiet expressions. "There's—you need to see something."

"Kōji, seriously?" You didn't think you needed to point out Getō, or the fact that you were pulling ink from a glob on your glove. "Just tell me later, dude."

His face stretched as though wounded. "It's important. I swear. I wouldn't be asking if—"

"Is there a reason why you can't say it in front of me?" Getō had his nose pointed at Kōji, arm turned red beneath his cheek as he simpered. "Nothing's stopping you from telling us both right here, right now."

The scrawny man melted into himself, fingers fiddling together in a brave attempt to keep his teeth off of his nails and open sores on his cuticles. Whatever thing he had wanted to say was abandoned in that moment, stifled in his throat by a few words from the man on your massage table.

Your fingers halted, hovering over Getō's back as you took in the tone of his remarks to your employee, contemplating with a frown to threaten to throw him out.

"Don't talk to him like that." The leather underneath you groaned as you sat up straight on your stool. "This is my shop. You're not going to disrespect my employ—Kōji!"

He had already rushed away behind the somber gray door into the back office.

"Kōji!" You swiveled away from Getō, instrument an afterthought on the silver tray at your side. Seconds later, you swung back around. "You need to leave."

Getō, who had watched the entire thing from his arms, suddenly lifted his head and shoulders up, face weighed by surprise.

"What?" His eyes were wide. "Come again?"

You didn't falter. "Get the hell out of my shop. We're done for today."

His confusion mellowed into something undefinable, an expression you couldn't read with eyes that tracked across your face as though trying to catch a bluff. Nothing familiar remained in his gaze, the cold snare he held you in for several seconds, the depths of him black as coal and empty. For those few beats, until he looked away, you had held your breath without realizing it and heard blood gushing in your ears.

"You live in the apartment above here, right? On the second floor?" Getō still had his back to you, fingers fussing with the buttons on the front of his white shirt. "You should be careful."

Every ounce of courage you had gathered just moments before was suddenly sucked dry, stolen from your bones and spine, making your posture crumble on the stool. Dread wrapped around you like freezing, creeping tendrils that made the fine hairs on your neck stick out, put a knot in your throat that might as well have been his fist.

"How—how do you know that, Getō?" You were halfway out of your seat, fingers resting against cool metal and close to your arsenal of needles mounted to persimmon dowels. "Are you watching me?"

"Mm, not quite." He turned around while finishing the last buttons, expression void of that easygoing smile and mirthful glint in his eye that you had come to rely on from him. Without it, it was like you were freefalling into the unknown without a net to catch your back. "You should fire that assistant of yours soon."

"Kōji?" You had thought that same thing many times, but hearing it from someone else was an insult. "He's been here for years. He does his job. Who do you think you are to come in here, harass my employee, and tell me to fire him? This is my shop. Before you're anyone, you're a client who I have every right to refund and turn the fuck away."

"I suppose that's true." Getō said, rounding the table, coming into such close proximity to you that you could smell faint remnants of coffee on his clothes and breath, saw the late morning glow filtering in through the windows give his eyes a golden glint. "It's only a suggestion, but you should take it. I don't want to see you take the fall for things he meddles in."

You frowned. "What does that mean?"

He showed you one of his good-tempered smiles instead of answering, an easy way to stop the conversation before it could snowball into something else, dragging you deeper into his world more than what you already are.

There was a part of you convinced that he wanted to submerge you into that gross underbelly with him all the way, steal you below the surface, take you away from everything you'd ever known. But when the light would return to his eyes, just like now, and he looked upon you with such fondness, trying to smother your inquiries with lips pressed thin and tight so as to seal all his secrets behind them, you weren't so sure what his intentions were.

Some of his weight was suddenly on your shoulder, collected in the palm of his hand cradling the roundness of it. His fingertips pushed into the fabric, pressed divots into your skin and burned where he squeezed.

"Take care of yourself." Getō said, surprising you one last time by using that same hand, the very peaks of his knuckles to skim your cheek on his way past. "I'll see you soon."

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Firing Kōji was never an option, no matter what he involved himself with after work. There would be no business for you to spin signage for in the mornings, a studio to keep tidy, leather chairs to polish and preserve, and no stuttering neon light to bask under in the late hours of silence before returning upstairs to your bed.

Long ago, you had decided it made more sense to simply not see what didn't involve you directly, what didn't benefit you, because it was easier than acknowledging that the person you'd chosen to run everything in the background probably wasn't ideal. You'd known for years that his dealings outside your shop erred on the wrong side of the law, most likely, but it didn't matter as long as you didn't have to know exactly what it was.

As long as no one found him out, traced his employment to your tattoo shop, and turned your revolving door of clientele into thin, dwindling trickles, you'd force yourself to forgive him for whatever misdeeds he committed. He came into work on time every single day with his coffee flask and messenger bag, made no complaints about his workload and worn-in swivel chair that sometimes squealed when it turned, and didn't try to usurp the business from you.

He was the perfect employee and still was, even weeks following the incident with Getō. Every attempt you had made since then to get information out of him about that day was thwarted, distracted by numbers, stock invoices, client bookings, and asking if you wanted yakisoba from the little old lady down the road for lunch.

Kōji had decided you were untrustworthy now, a fact you were well aware of and unsure of how to handle. Less because he was your only employee—and, regrettably, the closest confidant you had in your life at all—but more that the entire ordeal left you uneasy and bothered.

He was doing something he shouldn't be, and Getō already knew about it and where you lived. Things weren't adding up, and you were the only one left in the dark.

One Sunday afternoon off left you with plenty of time to mull it over while packing around armfuls of groceries. A mid-autumn breeze was fabricated by cars passing through the city, throwing your hair in disarray, catching crisp bursts of air under your collar to leave you colder than you had been seconds ago. Your body was lulled into a relaxed state from the wind rocking your body left and right, pulled by the invisible force of it.

Your eyes stuck to the crosswalk sign, waiting for it to turn green, for the cluster of scuttering bodies to trot their way across and clear the area so they weren't stranded there until the next rotation. Their idle chatter hardly registered to you while you stood there next to them—colors of clothing, small domes of umbrellas, the drone of passing car engines felt so far away and surreal to you.

Everything seemed to vanish except your heartbeat when the light finally changed, eyes drifting down toward something that had an inexplicable pull on you, first as a slither of all black that grew tall and eventually into the shape of a body. You felt like you were searching through a sea of pines for that one glimpse at something that had caught your attention.

It was then that you realized what had you so engrossed was the unfaltering stare of another. You nearly collided with a man in a beige coat two feet ahead of you when you saw that it was Getō standing at the other end of the crosswalk.

Why is he here? Is he following me? You didn't give yourself the time to ruminate before ducking low behind a group of teenagers eagerly discussing their new idol obsession. A couple of the girls were in gyaru fashion, something you'd expect on a day trip to Harajuku, not on the west side of Tokyo near Shinjuku.

They paid little mind to you lingering entirely too close to them, using the shelf of a boy's shoulder to hazard a peek out at the scene until you had reached the end of the crosswalk with them. They dispersed in all different directions, sharing casual partings before you could think of where to go next, legs suddenly snared to the concrete when Getō called out from nearby.

"Hey, what a coincidence to see you here."

"Is it, really?" You tried remembering where you were in Shinjuku.

The red-light district, Kabukichō, the typical yakuza stomping grounds, wasn't far from here. It was one of those things that was easy to forget once the novelty of living in the area wore away, but it always meant something to someone else. That group of kids flashed in your mind briefly. It might've been their first time exploring a place like Shinjuku by themselves.

Getō came closer with his hands buried deep in his pants, the other half of a black sweatsuit that was too large for his frame. You tried to keep your eyes moving around a thinning crowd, steeped in uncertainty of how different interacting with him on the streets would be to piercing his back with needles.

"Are you heading home?" He saw your discomfort before the bags on your arms, his tone softening in the same way you expected it would for a frightened animal. "Do you need help carrying—"

"Hey, Suguru!" Another man showed himself through the intermix of bountiful bodies, his shape hidden beneath similarly slouchy, loose folds of clothing. His voice carried a similar pitch as the other, albeit inelegant and insouciant, with a head that was fully white and eyes so terrifyingly blue you guessed he had to be mixed with something.

For those few seconds you spared him a glance, you were set awash in a sensation of familiarity—a distant type of it. The same sort you'd expect to have while watching a movie with the appearance of an actor that startled you because you knew you had seen him from somewhere, but you couldn't place just exactly where.

If it hadn't been for his petulant seeming disposition on arrival and slothful bearings that ruined his posture and any semblance of class based on his bizarre, exotic beauty—you would have thought he was a model or someone of status, at the very least. His voice was annoying, however, and somewhat nasally as he complained about being left behind when Getō had noticed you skulking from afar.

Getō handled him benignly, almost disinterestedly, despite all of the speaking that coalesced into something even you stopped caring about. You made up your mind to use the distraction as a way to get out of this brush in public, spun on rubber soles, and almost began away until Getō broke apart from him and took the straps on one of your bags.

"Hold on"—he didn't let go despite how your features purposefully deformed from his nearness, a brazen attempt to look ugly to him—"you're a long way from home. Let me carry a few bags to help you out. Gojō, I'll see you around."

"Whaaaaat?! Seriously?" complained the other, making a whale of a noise that didn't match his relaxed stance. His bones seemed to collapse into the heaps of fabric he had stuck his arms through that day.

You tried putting opposite pressure on your bag to reclaim it from Getō, though he got what he wanted in the end. "I don't want to trouble you. I can carry these myself."

"It's no trouble." Getō insisted, still with obscene patience that overwhelmed your dogged determination to avoid causing an awkward shift between the two men.

As it was natural in Japan, jumpers and coats and pretty umbrellas wove through your motley bunch without being too distracted by the scene. They all had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, however truly inconsequential their destination was. It would've demanded too much of their concentration and willpower to look at everyone who made a ruckus in the streets of Shinjuku, but maybe they paid a little more attention because Getō and Gojō were beautiful, and you were like the hapless protagonist in a drama.

In that moment, however, you felt equal parts unfortunate that Getō bunched his long fluid strides to shorter ones to mime the pace of yours as he walked away from Gojō alongside you, all but two of your bags on his arms, and equal parts secretly enthralled by the experience and that you had been chosen over whatever former objective the two men shared.

"What was the point of us coming to Shinjuku if you're just leaving me here?! You suck!" Gojō's voice was carried by the false autumnal breeze whirled up by cars and gas exhausts, loud and strange because the urgency behind it had dropped off long ago. Now, it just sounded like he was calling after you both in casual parting like someone would from their doorstep down the road.

On that same fake wind, somewhere farther away but still close enough to see the uneven tips of Gojō’s white hair fluttering out away from his scalp, you could've sworn you heard the shape of your name—the pronunciation of it unmistakable—with all the same inflection Getō uttered when using it with you, weaponizing it so your ears would perk and be forced to hear him.

"I'm not doing any more of your tattoo until next week. I hope you know that." You had walked most of the way with him back to the studio. Seas of somber, dark concrete crosswalks with white lines and faceless beings in sometimes nice clothes had shrunk from a hearty basin of converging intersections to a gentle downstream trickle of interweaving streets that housed residences and hidden businesses. "Sunday is my only day off. I don't make exceptions for anyone."

Getō stayed with you the entire time, his movements a little more sluggish than you were used to seeing since you didn't have the same leg reach as him. He could probably open up his arms and touch buildings on either side of the street with the blunt nails on his long fingers.

You wondered, briefly, to your shame, if he could wrap himself around you twice if you were to do it first.

"I know," he said, an affable smile in his eyes and curved onto his lips. The look of him grew even brighter when he noticed you were staring, your face blemished by creases and lines and uneasy, fluttering eyeballs that conveyed your distrust and intrigue all at once. "What? You don't believe me? My back is still healing from the last session. I think you went deeper with the needles than previous times. It's taking longer."

You probably did bury ink deeper into the pretty flesh on his back because he upset your employee—your only employee, your safeguard to a successful business.

"Remember, you signed a waiver about infection. If there's too much redness and swelling, you should get it looked at." It wasn't often any interest to you to give unsolicited advice outside the shop, but Getō was your special exception. "I'm not going to touch your back again until that's completely ruled out. Besides, the dragon is done, so now we're just adding all your weird folklore and buddhist iconography."

"Hard to believe we've made it all these months." he said, now standing with you outside the building you rented for your studio and second-floor apartment. Despite the nylon straps on his arms digging cavernous divots into his black sleeves, he didn't act as though he were carrying around bags of lead like you felt you with yours. "I couldn't have chosen a better artist. I wasn't lying when I said your online portfolio was one of the best I'd seen in Tokyo, by the way."

What he said still sounded so sweetly untrue, but you unlocked the old door with a grimy brass key and let him inside to take his shoes off in the entryway and climb the stairs behind you to the second floor.

"I never have guests, so I don't really have anything for you. Coffee? Tea? Water? I may have some orange juice left." Every inch of tiny countertop and kitchen floor was swallowed by plastic totes and your bodies. It didn't occur to you at that moment to try putting some things away first to make more room, so you stumbled through the mess for your one-cup coffee machine that doubled as your tea kettle. "Sorry for the mess, I guess. I spend most of my time working, so I don't get the chance to clean up very often."

Getō betrayed no emotion, didn't seem afflicted in the slightest by the state of your apartment, and kept the curl of his smile fastened all the time. "Tea is fine. I'll just take whatever is easiest for you."

Minutes later, he politely sipped from the rim of your favorite mug, one hip implanted into the edge of the counter, staved off from helping you unload your groceries because you told him it'd be weird for a yakuza boss to do that. He still tried to take some boxes of stuff and stick them in your cabinets when you weren't looking, though.

“Did you tell that guy about me?” The sound of your voice, sudden and suspicious, was enough to startle Getō into a wide-eyed stare. He asked you what you meant, so you told him, “That guy back at the intersection you were with. Who was he? He knew my name. I saw him. Is he one of your gang friends?”

The alarm sank out of his expression, tension in his shoulders along with it. Despite the severity of your questions, he barely seemed to register them seriously and resumed stacking things on shelves to clear the countertops.

“Getō.” you pressed.

“No.” He closed the cabinet once he finished and came to you, undaunted by the obstacles spaced out on the floor. “I didn't tell him about you. I've kept my word. He's an annoying shit who likes snooping around my business.”

“Then, how did he…”

You receded into your thoughts, now trying harder than before to recall who that man was. His identity was tilted there on the edge of your memory, one word or phrase or image away from awestruck revelation. When it finally happened, seconds later, Getō was in front of you, heavy hands on your upper arms as though keeping you upright, and face bright with intrigue.

“Wait. Wait. Wait!” You cried out. “Gojō as in financial Gojō? As in one of the richest families in Japan, Gojō? Gold spoon baby Gojō?”

Getō gave a jubilant laugh as though delighted by you figuring it out on your own. His hands rose higher on your arms, capping your shoulders in warm weight that felt as refreshing as it did unusual. You couldn't remember the last time someone had touched you like that.

“He's my best friend—my only one. I'm not surprised he was able to figure out I was getting work done at your shop.” He said lightly, but doing nothing to assuage your doubt. “I know you don't believe it, but he's good to know if you need help. I'll give you his number so you—”

“I don't want it.” you said with feeble resolve. “It’s already a pain in the ass enough to have yakuza hanging around all the time. I don't need some trust fund baby to know where I live, too.”

Your heart wasn't in those words, finding that all you could concentrate on was the space of his palms encapsulating your shoulders, deft fingers leaving marks in your clothes as though trying to feel your skin through fabric. He didn't allow himself to roam you, but the taut muscles in his hands revealed a sort of composed restraint that was close to snapping.

He said your name once; a low, raspy sound in his throat that seemed so much like him yet unlike anything you had heard leave his mouth before. His eyes were darkened by his lashes, mesmerizing you in some dreamlike haze that only intensified when he stooped his head to kiss you.

His lips found rhythm with yours; slow, at first, to test the feeling and how much either of you actually wanted this. You responded with quiet sounds, a sigh and a moan, followed by the spread of your arms reaching around his neck to bring him closer, feel him more.

Getō backed your body against the countertop and leaned forward on his hands behind you to press down harder into the kiss. The blunt edges of your fingernails dove through black downy hairs on the back of his neck, trailing further down the ridges of his spine, molding to the ridges of his vertebrae that pushed up below the surface of his skin.

Goose flesh marked him all over, breath stuttering in your mouth like he was stifling pleasurable sounds of his own. You expected more self-control from a man of his status, yet there he was melting into you and sucking the air from your lungs while tasting your tongue with the roughness of his.

There was an ache between your legs, unabated heat which you had forgotten could be stimulated by another person. You weren't ashamed to take care of yourself when the need arose, although even those instances were far and few between and lacked this same urgency—this need to have another person wrapped up in you, touching you, devouring you.

You thought about how bad of an idea this was, how Kōji would react if he knew how weak your willpower truly was. It made sense to expect someone like Getō to exert his influence over you like this, for him to give into his every impulse without fear of consequence because there simply was none for him. He was above needing to restrain his inhibitions if that's what he wanted in the end.

“I can make you feel good.” He said apart from your lips, now pressed into the underside of your jaw after stretching out the neckline of your shirt. “Tell me what you want. I'll do it. I've wanted you since the beginning.”

What would happen if you told him to strip off your pants and get on his knees? Would the kingpin of the Uzumaki-kai obey someone lesser and bow and swallow the nectar from your body? Would he laugh at your brazen attempt, call you a wretch and drag you away for trying to make a mockery of him?

“Just… touch me.” Those words were not your own.

“Where?” Getō’s hands left the countertop to pile underneath your shirt, hands a light caress against the skin on your lower back. The heat of them made you flinch. “Here? Tell me where you want me.”

Something about this was too surreal, stirred unease in your chest and hundreds of quivering butterflies in your gut. It had come on as suddenly and dimmed the lust in your groin, lifted the fog from your eyes and cotton in your brain. It left you pliant in his arms, yet far away in mind as you searched those deeper recesses of yourself for an answer.

Getō noticed the disconnect and passionless kiss, your lips barely taking shape against his, and lifted his hands off of you.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“I—” Something about you. “I don't know. This is just unprofessional. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it.”

There was still darkness in his eyes, emotions shimmering through them despite an effortless smile he secured on his face. It was an eerie mask this time around, but your vulnerability and reddened, bruised neck kept you from saying anything on it.

“I should be the one apologizing.” Getō said with that unshakable calmness of his. “I didn't have the intention to push myself on you. I just thought…” He tilted his head a little left, tempting you to lean with him. “I thought we wanted the same thing.”

You couldn't answer that truthfully because then this would never end and he'd wind up in your bed. Had he been any other man, you'd have stripped him down to nothing and let him ravage you as he said he would.

But, you couldn't because he was your client.

You couldn't because of who he was.

You couldn't because he liked to keep his secrets close to his chest, and while you had your neck exposed—warm, sucking lips at your jaw and on the small swells in your throat when you'd swallow—you realized you couldn't trust him not to sink his teeth in and rip out gore and stringy sinew and let you bleed out on the floor.

He knew that distrust, had probably seen in everyone he’d ever known, yet he kept that smile which had grown stiff.

“It's not a good idea, Getō.” Because there's something off about you. You're a wolf masquerading as a shepherd. “Of all people, you should know that.”

Getō said nothing else as he was led downstairs and let out into the brisk evening air. Briefly, you worried he would feel the chill through this baggy sweatshirt and had to think better of fetching him a scarf for the trip back to wherever he belonged.

You stayed behind the door near the stairs, leaning through it far enough for him to reach out and stroke your face with the peaks of his knuckles. It was a fleeting touch, perhaps an attempt to not overstep as he had before.

And then, just before he pulled away, he said something familiar, “I'll see you soon.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━

a/n: so i started this project late last year, i think. i put it aside after i started working on my original android x reader oneshot (which is posted and y'all should read it *hint**hint*) but i'm picking this back up to finish it.

originally, i was going to post this in its entirety once it was finished (est. 20k-22k), but decided just to get this out of my face and do the other half separately. if y'all wanna see the second half and conclusion to this please reblog and interact with this!! if i don't really gauge any interest in it, i don't really see the point in putting my time into finishing it.

the second half has the sex scene and all the drama and stuff.

anyway, deuces!

#getou x reader #getou suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #getō suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #2k writes #writing #reader insert #reader interactive

[chiqelatasblog]

When a Sorcerer Turns Into a Cat…

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Catsung art.

-> Another art for the last scene.

-> Lovely art by @inienil

Pairing : Shang Tsung x Reader

Tropes : Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Confessions, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Kind of Secret Identity?

Summary : When Shang Tsung crafted a potion for invisibility, he was unprepared for the peculiar result—he unexpectedly transformed into a cat. Struggling to navigate the world on four paws, he sought refuge, and that’s precisely when you entered the scene.

As the only person Shang Tsung trusted, he reached out to you, desperately in need of help. Oblivious to his true identity, you unwittingly revealed some truths about your feelings as you welcomed the unexpected guest into your home.

Author’s Note: I had so much fun when I was writing this. I always thought Shang Tsung behave like a sassy cat and seeing memes about it, this fic came to life. Hope you guys like it too, happy reading! .

.

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He should never have made that potion.

About a day ago, he received the recipe for the invisibility potion from a small, dimly lit shop nestled in a mysterious corner of the city. The shop, selling peculiar items of unknown origin, offered him the recipe at an unbelievably low price, almost as if fate had handed him a golden ticket.

Despite a nagging suspicion that something wasn’t quite right, he was low on funds and had little else to trade Invisibility, a coveted skill he had long yearned to master, promised an escape from the ongoing misery of his life.

Eagerly, he returned to his humble trailer, carefully following the recipe’s instructions. The resulting potion, a dark purple concoction with a nauseating odor, made him gag even before it touched his lips. Disregarding the unpleasantness, he gulped it down in one go. Initially, only the repulsive taste assaulted his senses, but as seconds morphed into minutes, and his body stubbornly remained visible, frustration and realization set in – he had been duped.

Uttering a string of curses, he nervously set the bottle on the table, and then, suddenly, the world around him seemed to expand. No, he corrected himself; it was he who was shrinking. Panic seized him as his body crumbled at an alarming rate. Clothes, once fitting, now engulfed him like a collapsing tent. His limbs betrayed him, refusing to respond as he grappled with the unfolding chaos.

When he finally managed to disentangle himself from the heap of clothes, he was sent tumbling down the steps of his trailer, only to land unceremoniously in a puddle a short distance away.

Drenched from head to toe, he couldn’t hold back a frustrated ‘‘Fuck!’’ as he flung his wet hair away. However, amidst his exclamation, an unexpected sound reached his ears – a distinct ‘’Meow!’’

Shang Tsung’s world ground to a halt. ‘’Meow?’’ he echoed, utterly perplexed.

Gazing at his reflection in the puddle, he hoped desperately that it was all a dream. The creature staring back at him couldn’t be real. Two pairs of pointed ears, long black whiskers, a tiny triangular black nose, and again two large black eyes confronted him. He blinked, as if trying to verify his vision, and recoiled when his reflection blinked back in perfect synchronization.

The cat-like scream that followed, much higher-pitched than any human scream, nearly caused him to faint. He had transformed into a cat!

Fluffy paws had replaced his hands and feet, and whiskers, resembling delicate antennas, twitched involuntarily. The wet black fur failed to offer warmth, and a tail resembling a cleaning brush remained the only dry spot on his body.

Surveying his surroundings helplessly, Shang Tsung grappled with the overwhelming sensations. Colors, scents, and sounds bombarded his heightened senses. The moist and soft ground beneath his paws carried distinct smells – from the lush grass and flower pollen to the foul odor of nearby mice – making him nauseous and dizzy in this new feline reality.

He resolved to hide in his trailer until the effects of the potion had hopefully worn off. Perhaps time was the only remedy to this bizarre transformation.

With this decision, as he tried to maneuver his entirely alien limbs, he stumbled back into the puddle. Emitting a frustrated meow, he lifted his now even wetter body on trembling legs and took a determined step forward.

Coordinating his brain to move all four legs proved to be the most challenging task he had ever faced. Despite managing a few steps, it wasn’t long before he found himself face down on the ground. Climbing the stairs was out of the question when he could barely walk.

Yet, the thought of enduring the night defenseless in the open urged him to explore other options. Despite the presence of sharp claws at his disposal, he remained clueless about how to wield them effectively.

Suddenly, thunder rumbled ominously from the gathering dark clouds, intensifying his struggle. The loud noise sent shivers through his wet fur, and he fluffed up instinctively. What was he going to do now?

Abandoning the idea of entering his trailer due to his incapacitated state, and unable to climb the steps, he considered hiding beneath it. However, this provided little protection against larger predators.

As he weighed his limited options, another thunderclap sounded nearby, and rain approached faster than expected. Then, a solution flashed in his mind.

You.

In his present state of misery, pride might have prevented him from seeking you out, but the importance of trust is a precious rarity that outweighed his ego. The silver lining lay in the fact that, cloaked in this form, his identity would remain undetected by you.

He knew the way to your house by heart. If he could only manage to use his damn paws correctly, he estimated reaching your house in half an hour, perhaps even before the rain caught up with him.

With this determination, Shang wasted no time in taking action. His steps were still uneven and shaky, but time wasn’t a luxury he could afford to care about that.

The noise of the crowd from the market ahead throbbed in his ears, and an onslaught of diverse smells reached his nose, aggravating the nausea in his stomach. Being a cat was proving to be a challenging experience, perhaps explaining why they were often grumpy.

Navigating through the people, Shang tried his best not to entangle himself in anyone’s feet. However, his coordination mishaps led to a loss of balance, and a boy stepping on his tail resulted in a piercing yowl. Turning towards the offender, Shang unleashed a tirade of furious growls, attempting to express his outrage in the only way available.

‘’Are you blind, you damned brat! You almost trampled me!’’

Every word translated to meows, yet the intensity of his anger was universally understood. The woman, presumably the child’s mother, shielded her son from Shang and attempted to shoo him away with her hand, further bruising his wounded dignity.

Frustrated, Shang roared, ‘‘Who do you think you’re shooing, woman? Mother and son, I will kill you both and take your souls as a souvenir!’’—all conveyed in blood-curling meows.

Amidst the chaotic market, a male voice behind him suggested, ‘‘Ma’am, stand back; I think it has rabies.’’

Shang glared at the new person who had insulted him.

‘’Who do you think you’re calling rabid, you fucker—Oh, shit.’’

When he saw the bucket in the man’s hand that he was about to pour on him, he instantly put an end to his words-meows and hurried away from there as far as his legs would allow. He did not know how long he had been wandering around the market; the interior of the place he had always been wandering around had suddenly turned into a maze.

Everything was too loud, causing him to be constantly startled and feel the need to crawl into a corner with fear. The noise was overwhelming, and he had never felt so nervous; it was challenging not to be crushed underfoot when people, oblivious to his tiny presence, walked past him like giants. Additionally, the smells were more than mere scents—they were a symphony of overpowering fragrances that constantly distracted his attention.

After enduring a relentless pursuit by several dogs, their barks resonating through the narrow alleys, two people attempted to offer Shang affection. Amidst the chaos, he responded by scratching one person’s face, biting the other’s hand, and clumsily falling to the ground for the thirtieth time. Eventually, he managed to navigate the maze-like streets and arrive in front of your house.

Standing at the door of your one-story, quite small, stone house, he didn’t bother to stand up. Instead, he lay down on the ground for a prolonged moment.

Tired, hungry, and thirsty, he also felt the grime on his fur from the rain that continued to pour. It was already dark, and despite all his efforts, he hadn’t managed to escape the relentless downpour. While waiting in front of the door, drenched and shivering, he started screaming at the top of his lungs when he couldn’t hear a sound indicating that you were inside.

Just as people didn’t trust him easily, he himself never trusted others easily. In fact, he never trusted. You were the only one who had an exception in this matter. He had a bond with you that he didn’t share with anyone; it was so special and precious to him that Shang was afraid of doing something wrong and pushing you away.

You possessed a kind and empathetic nature, extending compassion even to someone like him who made money by deceiving people. This filled him with the need to protect, as well as a genuine concern for your selflessness.

While you were certainly not naive, your kind heart and tolerant attitude toward everyone could one day lead you to unexpected hurt. People often saw kindness as weakness, and Shang knew it well. Kindness was nothing more than a tool for many to gain the upper hand and exploit others.

Shang, despite his deceptive nature, taught you how to draw boundaries with small word games, preserving your gentle nature without resorting to brute force. Although he was aware that this approach contradicted his general nature, he found himself irresistibly drawn to you, seizing every opportunity to be near you.

He had no idea when he fell in love with you; perhaps it was the first time he saw you, or maybe it was when a few of the customers he tricked later came to kick his ass, and you helped him take care of his wounds after they hurt him badly. Or maybe it was that sexy look on your face when you didn’t refrain from answering back to him about something for the first time.

The options were endless, but one thing he knew was that he had never felt such intense attraction and closeness to anyone before. He was almost sure that you felt the same way, but he hesitated to take a step further, not wanting to risk this relationship he couldn’t name between you.

Finally, Shang stopped shouting when footsteps, making it clear that you had heard his screams, were heard from behind the door.

‘‘What’s going on?’’

When you opened the door and looked with curious eyes to see the source of the sound, Shang instantly tried to get your attention, mustering a heart-wrenching meow to pull at your heartstrings.

‘‘Oh, were you the cause of all this screaming?’’

By opening the door a little further, as if to show that there was no threat, you got down on your knees and stretched out your hand to him, inviting him closer.

“Hello, little one, come closer.’’

Shang came straight to you without a second thought, rubbing his head on your hands. He began to purr, a sound that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being. You put on a sweet smile at the sounds he made, Shang’s eyes closing with happiness as your gentle hands massaged behind his ears.

‘‘You poor thing, you’re soaked through.’’ After stroking his head a little more, you carefully grasped him on both sides with your hands. ‘’I’m going to hold you in my arms, please don’t attack me, okay?’’

Shang responded with louder purrs, trying to make himself appear as harmless and innocent as possible. You were the only person in this world he would not harm, a fact that could not change now or later. The warmth of your embrace provided solace to Shang, now a rain-soaked cat, as you lifted him into your arms. His damp fur clung to your clothes, but you didn’t seem to mind.

As you cradled him in your lap, Shang tried not to be too impressed by the softness of your breasts. But right now, even if he was a cat, he was a man, and being closer to the woman he loved than ever before might have affected him more than he thought.

‘‘That’s it, come here, my little friend. Let’s wash you first; you smell terrible. We’ll have dinner together later, what do you think? Is that okay?’’

While holding him with one hand and stroking him under the chin with the other hand, Shang’s eyes closed with happiness once again. He felt safe, comfortable, and peaceful. All that dizzying confusion of sounds, smells, and images had finally calmed down a little.

Your scent was playing a big role in him calming down. It was sweet, reminiscent of vanilla and a hint of lavender, a fragrance that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace.

When he caught your scent once more, just to be certain, his mouth watered. It was delicious, with an undercurrent of delightful notes—raisins and chocolate dough, the unmistakable aroma of his all-time favorite dessert: moon cakes, a treat you had lovingly prepared to smell just like this.

When his stomach rumbled loudly enough to embarrass him, you giggled.

“Oh my, I will put an end to your hunger at once, little one. Don’t worry; you’re in good hands.’’

When you arrived at the bathroom, after placing him in a basin and approaching to pour hot water on him, Shang’s whole body reflexively tensed up, and his coat puffed out.

If I get wet one more fucking time I-

‘‘I’ll keep this as quick as possible.’’ You said, in your usual kind voice, and put a little kiss on his head. The words that were waiting on the tip of Shang’s tongue to be said evaporated and disappeared into the air. Before he had a chance to shake off his astonishment, you began to wash his body with hot water.

Although he didn’t want to admit it, he liked the bath. The warm water cascading over him felt like a gentle rain, washing away the grime and tension from his fur. His body, stiff from the nightmare-filled moments he spent outside, had almost reached the consistency of falling asleep as it slowly relaxed between your fingers, which felt like magic.

‘‘Good boy, look how well behaved you are. You must be someone’s cat; you don’t look feral at all.’’ You said, mumbling to yourself. Your compliment had caused another unexpected reaction in Shang. While his heart began to beat faster than before, he had no doubt that his cheeks would have flushed noticeably if he had been human.

When you started delicately drying his body with a towel, Shang seized the opportunity to shake off the water, and in a playful display, a small scream escaped your lips as you attempted to shield yourself from the scattered water drops.

With your face and hair now adorned with droplets, Shang, taking full advantage of his feline guise, delicately licked the drops on your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, he reveled in this mischievous act.

Against his movement, you let out a giggle that made his heart jump. After drying his semi-damp body, you picked him up again and headed into the kitchen. Shang took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious smells wafting around, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach.

You had just made the moon cakes he had predicted, and with the smoke rising from them, it was obvious they had just come out of the stone oven. Shang couldn’t decide whether your lap or the buns lined up like treasure on the counter were more attractive.

‘‘Stop right here, and I’ll see what I can give you.’’

As you put him down and started preparing food by wandering around the kitchen, Shang looked at the counter with longing eyes. How he would have liked to jump in there and grab one of the cakes. Deciding to try his luck, he leaned his paws on the counter, attempting to keep his balance on both legs. Although he couldn’t see the counter, he could have reached out and grabbed one of the cakes with his paw. He just needed to reach a little more—

‘‘Oh, hold on there, you naughty kitty.’’

You grabbed him by the waist, pulled him away from the counter, and placed him on the table.

‘’There’s nothing there for you.”

“Don’t think so; you can’t protect those buns from me.”

Interpreting his mewing as a sign of hunger, you once again stroked the top of his head with understanding eyes.

“Here you go buddy, enjoy your meal.”

Leaving the food you had prepared for him in front of him, you sat down with your own dinner. Shang inspected the food, smelling the bowl. When he caught a whiff of chicken broth and stale bread crumbs, he looked up, giving you side eyes.

He couldn’t believe you were offering him stale bread.

“What?” As you carefully chewed a morsel, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Are you giving me the side eye?”

Shang pushed the food with one paw, turning his head to the side.

“What’s with that attitude?” you said with a laugh. “Aren’t you hungry? You should be able to smell the chicken inside.”

“And the stale bread you put in,” Shang hissed. Approaching you confidently, he eyed the food on your plate. With beautifully baked chicken pieces, sautéed vegetables, and rice, your plate looked quite delicious. Shang swallowed, feeling his mouth water. You didn’t stop him when he buried his head in your plate, about to devour one of the chickens.

“Alright, eat up. It’s obvious you need it more than me.”

As you gently stroked his head, Shang couldn’t determine if he was truly starving, attributing the chicken’s apparent deliciousness to his intense hunger. With purrs that exceeded his small body, he devoured the meal, finding it to be the most delicious chicken he had ever eaten.

When you prepared a new plate for yourself and sat down, a peaceful silence descended between the two of you. After a while, while taking a small sip from your wine glass, you continued to gently stroke the top of Shang’s head with one hand.

This, he thought to himself, must be heaven.

‘’You’re tame enough to make me think you’re somebody’s pet. If you haven’t run away from home and you’ve been dumped, I have two words to say to that person.’’ You said in a harsh voice.

As Shang licked the leftover pieces of chicken smeared on the side of his mouth, he started purring louder when he heard the protective timbre in your voice. Giggling at his reaction, you stroked his cheek with your dainty fingers.

‘’We need to give you a name, hmm.’’ After taking another sip of your wine, you patted your chin with one hand and looked at him with thoughtful eyes. Shang thought about how breathtaking you looked at that moment.

Most of the lights in your house were turned off, it was dim except for a few candles that you placed around and the heat and light emitted by a small fireplace burning a little further away.

The places where the soft yellow light touched your skin painted you a sweet golden color, while your cheeks were slightly pinkened because of the wine you were drinking, and your lips were tinged with a dark color of red. As the thin tufts of hair that had escaped from the bun that you had scattered from the top covered your face, he felt an intense desire to kiss you at that moment, it suddenly became even more important for him than breathing.

You looked so sweet, vulnerable, and beautiful that he cursed himself once again for turning into a cat. But on the other hand, if he hadn’t turned, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to see you like this.

“Actually, I know someone who loves cats, I have no doubt that he will adore you.” You said and put another smile on your face from behind the glass touched your lips. His heart warmed at the sight of you. “He tries not to show it, but I know how much he loves animals. It’s easier for him to make friends compared to people; I can’t blame him for thinking like that. Everyone has their reasons.’’

When your fingers moved again to stroke the soft fur, Shang brought his head closer to you. Meanwhile, he couldn’t help wondering, were you talking about him?

‘‘I can tell that his hair is the same color as your coat, and even your eyes are exactly the same color. Should I also call you Shang? Or Shang the Junior?‘’ You continued laughing at your own words, while Shang responded by looking at you with side eyes. His gaze must be amusing to you, making you burst into a louder laugh.

‘‘I’ve no doubt he’ll look just as sassy as you are looking at me right now! By the elder gods, that was good. But I think it would be more appropriate if I thought of another name… how about Night? It’s a name that suits you quite well.’’

After stroking his head for the last time, you collected the plates on the table in one hand and stood up with the wine glass you were about to finish. You put the plates in the tap, cut one of the moon cakes left on the counter across from you in half, and put it in your mouth.

“Better than I thought, Shang will love these.” You said it in a hushed voice, difficult to be heard. The expression on your face was much more peaceful and gentle now. Knowing that he was the reason behind it, filled Shang with pride. When he tried to attract attention to himself by meowing across the table, you approached him with half a moon cake.

“I know it’s usually harmful for you to eat this, but I guess a little bite once is fine, right? Here you go.” When you divided the one in your hand once more, reduced it even more, and handed it to him, Shang happily bit the piece you handed him into his mouth. The taste was absolutely exquisite—a feast of flavors that melted in his mouth before he even chewed.

‘‘You seem to like it too.’’

‘‘I love it!’’ Shang said, meowing loudly. When he held on to your arm with his front paws to ask for more, you had no choice but to give him the other piece as well. After Shang filled the last place left in his small stomach with cake, you took him on your lap and went into the living room.

You lay down on the peltries and furs that were laid out a little distance from the fireplace and pulled one of the cushions on the floor to have a pillow under your head. Shang instantly took advantage of the opportunity, curled up on your arm and rested his head on your neck.

The smell of you, the heat from the fireplace, and the crackling rising from the burning wood… all filled him with peace, as well as his relaxing body literally turned to jelly.

As the rain outside continued its symphony, Shang, now affectionately named Night, nestled comfortably in your gentle embrace. The soft illumination of candles played with the shadows, creating a tranquil ambiance that matched the warmth spreading within him.

Your musings about other potential names—Whiskers or Shadow—accompanied by the calming melody of the rain, painted an intimate scene. The soothing patter of raindrops on the window seemed to harmonize with the contented purrs emanating from Shang, reinforcing the newfound sense of belonging.

‘‘It’s a very different feeling to want to see someone all the time, not to want to leave their side,’’ You said some time later. Your tone was quiet and somehow fragile. While one hand stroked the soft, black fur, Shang stubbornly tried to resist sleeping, despite his tired body. He wanted to hear the words that would come out of your mouth.

‘‘I feel that I really know him, I accepted him into my heart a long time ago with all his wrongs and truths.’’

Even though there was technically no one else in the house but you, your voice was getting quiet, as if you were afraid someone would hear it. When the other hand covered your eyes, the smile that left your lips this time had nothing to do with the previous ones. It was bitter and insecure.

‘’I like him. Oh gods, I like him more than I thought.’’

A tear trickled down your cheek from the eyes you had hidden from him. Shang instantly rose up and licked the tear that was trickling down your cheek, as if to calm you down. How he would like to be a human being right now and reciprocate you. While his heart was pounding with happiness and excitement because of your confession, at the same time, your lack of self-confidence and the anxiety that you were feeding from the inside made him feel bad.

You finally kissed the top of his head, rewarding him for trying to comfort you as much as he could with a little chuckle.

‘’Thank you, Night. Your presence was unexpected, but thank you for choosing my door.’’ You said, in a voice as soft and sincere as honey. ‘‘I wish there was some way I could know what was going through Shang’s mind; it would be nice to know if he feels the same way towards me, wouldn’t it?’’

Shang just rubbed his head against yours, trying to give you a positive answer. He wanted this damn situation to end as soon as possible; he was about to go insane.

After a while, you declared, ‘’It’s been a long day,’ concluding the topic. The flickering flames in the fireplace cast a warm glow, highlighting the subtle lines of exhaustion on your face. Shifting towards the fireplace, you enveloped him in your arms, pulling Shang close as if he was a cherished plush toy. Shang nestled into the warmth, leaning against you with no space between.

He seemed content in this embrace, willing to endure it a while longer.

BONUS:

As birds chirped outside and sunlight gradually invaded the room, you slowly awoke. The wooden floor beneath you creaked as you shifted, a small moan escaping your lips along with the lingering ache in your hips.

Every inch of you seemed to protest the unconventional night’s rest. Yet, when a hand, still warm from sleep, squeezed your waist, all discomfort faded. Turning, a gasp caught in your throat.

There lay Shang Tsung, peacefully asleep, a sight you hadn’t anticipated. Surprised, you didn’t scream, perhaps even forgetting to breathe. Studying his features, you reached out, brushing your fingers through his tousled black hair. The once-cynical expression softened in slumber, and his pale pink lips were slightly parted, giving him a tranquil and almost boyish appearance, adorned with freckles on cheeks and nose.

Time seemed to halt, your heart reacting as it always did in his presence. To affirm it wasn’t a dream, your fingers grazed the soft strands of his hair, gently pulling them away from his face.

“This is real,” you uttered in a single breath. When Shang heard your voice, he parted his long, black eyelashes. His sleepy gaze found you directly, and a small smile settled on his face, leaving your heart in disarray.

“Of course, it’s real,” said Shang, his voice thicker than usual due to sleep. “It’s too early to wake up yet, so close your eyes. Let’s get some more sleep.”

Your brain was preoccupied with grasping the truth of how he got into your house and why he was sprawled over you with his arms wrapped around you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked with surprise.

“You let me in,” he replied simply.

“Me?” As you tried to figure out how, your eyebrows furrowed. The pieces snapped together in your mind as if lightning had flashed inside your head. “Was it you last night?!” you exclaimed, the half-scream in your voice. Shang’s eyes had already closed, but the wicked smile that revealed he hadn’t fallen asleep yet lingered on his face.

“How did you manage to turn into a cat?”

“Dear, it’s a pretty long story. Let me get some sleep first.”

As Shang snuggled closer, placing his chin on the top of your head, your eyes trailed down to his bare, muscular chest, and a shrill scream escaped your lips.

“You’re naked!”

“I guess so, I was a cat.”

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping next to me like this and still doing it,” you stammered, your face almost on fire.

“Well, I am quite comfortable,” Shang quipped without opening his eyes. He groped and took one of the pelts behind him, using it to cover himself.

“There, is that all right now?’’ A mischievous glint appeared in Shang’s eyes as he teased, “Well, if you’re done interrogating me, maybe I can finally enjoy some beauty sleep.”

You were so confused that you couldn’t answer him. Your poor brain, still struggling to comprehend what had just happened, was about to reach its breaking point. When you remembered the conversation you had with yourself last night, your face got so hot that you thought you were going to pass out and faint on the spot.

‘’When you were a cat… Do you remember what I said?”

Shang realized what you were talking about and chuckled in a deep voice.

“Everything.”

“Everything?” you said, squealing. Attempting to wriggle free from his grasp, you tried to hide from him, but Shang’s strong hands didn’t release their grip on your waist for a moment. On the contrary, a shaky breath escaped you when he pulled you closer, his hand gently stroking your hair.

“I like you too, (y/n),” Shang said, then kissed your forehead as if sealing his words. “I’ve been waiting for this moment so long,” he took a deep breath, burying his face into your hair. “While I’m holding you in my arms like this now, I don’t want to let go. Let’s stay like this a little longer.”

Since you couldn’t trust your voice, you contented yourself with nodding in approval. Although you couldn’t see Shang’s expression, there was no doubt he wasn’t smiling.

Your heart filled with warmth and happiness, sensations you’d never experienced before. You had a premonition that Shang had feelings for you, but you chose silence, fearing your confession might affect the bond between you.

This mutual confession made you feel light as a bird, filling you with pure happiness that made you wiggle like a little girl.

Before you could help yourself, now allowed to do something you’d wanted for a very long time, you straightened up on your elbows and planted a little kiss on one of Shang’s round cheeks.

Shang slightly opened his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth. Then, as his hand found its place in the back of your neck, guiding you closer, you willingly followed. When your lips met, it was like two magnets drawn together, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs

Shang’s kiss was as soft as the morning itself, an impetuosity showing that all the time belonged to them. While responding to his kiss, a detail caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Shang… You’re purring.”

Shang’s closed eyes widened.

“Fuck. There must be some side effects left from the damn potion.”

“I’ve always wanted to have a big cat,” you teased. Shang’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“I’m not like the cats you know, sweetie,” he said, brushing your hair with the back of his hand. Another smile left your lips, and you reached out to kiss him again.

“I have no doubt of it. Just don’t scratch the furniture, okay?”

Shang mockingly gasped, placing a hand over his chest.

“I’m offended. My claws are reserved for far more exciting endeavors, darling.”

#shang tsung #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung x you #shang tsung x y/n #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mk1 shang tsung #mortal kombat 1 #mk x reader #mk1 #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3feed #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3fic #ao3 author #fluff #fluff and humor #fluff and romance #fluff and feels #fluff and crack #fluff and fun #humor #confession #love confessions #reader insert #reader interactive #reader input

[joestarfoundation]

dom female reader headcanons + imagine

your babyboy wakes up every morning, eager to please you. you are his everything, his entire world revolves around you<3 he loves the feeling of submission and the thought of you being in control. It's not just a kink for him, it's a lifestyle

you can see the excitement in his puppy eyes when you enter the room, dressed in your favorite leather outfit. he knows what's coming next, and he can't wait. as you walk towards him, he kneels down in front of you, ready to serve and devour your delicious cunt<3

he loves when you use him for your pleasure. whether it's making him worship your body or using him as a human furniture, he is more than happy to fulfill your desires. he finds joy in knowing that you are satisfied and that he has pleased you<3

one of his favorite things is when you take him shopping for new lingerie. he loves the feeling of you picking out what he will wear, knowing that it's not just for show, but for your pleasure! he takes great pride in wearing what you have chosen for him, and it makes him feel even more submissive:((

he also loves when you take him out in public, holding his leash and showing everyone who is in charge. he loves the feeling of being owned by you, his goddess, and being on display for everyone to see. it makes him feel special and wanted

tell him he's your good little slut and feminize him, although he doesn't accept it, he has fantasized more than once about you dressing him up in pretty, girly outfits. he knows that you would take such good care of him and make him feel beautiful and desired, much more than he already is<3

slap him, peg him, degrade him, ride him, praise him... practically use him

you hummed as you looked for some strap that could break the little naughty whore you had behind you, he had been very whimsy all this time that you were gone

he even touched himself without your permission, you found him in the room you both shared, humping his hand while making a moaning noise like a bitch and he seemed to have forgotten you were right there

"oh my god what did i do, im so sorry mommy..." he sobbed when you heard his voice from inside of the closet

"what is this my babyboy?" you asked while staring at him

he blushed heavily but still tried to find the words, "i uhm... im sorry about earlier, i was really confused and all, it won't happen again i promise-"

"didnt we agreed that if i caught you doing something like this again you would be punished?"

he tried hard to say anything but you didn't give him any chance "well baby, i'm not gonna forgive this..."

he stared at you in fear and he slowly took off your skirt, "so what are you gonna do now?" he asked with big, childish eyes

"do you wanna know what's gonna happen now?" you ask with an evil smile on your face

he nodded nervously while looking down, he didnt understand why you had come here to punish him, all he did was touching himself!:((

"bad boys deserve to be punished and take up in the ass mommy's huge cock"

now, at this moment you had a big dildo tied to your waist, probably one of the biggest ones you had used with him. you tried to close your legs a little and press the base of the fake cock against your crotch to get some stimulation, you imagined that this time it would be like the other times, him lying on his back, with his legs open, your dildo in his ass, and your hands jerking off his neglected cock<33

he loved being dominated by you after all, no woman ever made him feel more wanted and horny than you :3

but now, you couldn't imagine it anymore. he stood there completely naked and scared:(

"baby, just let me put this thing in your butt and i'll leave you alone, it wont hurt much, i promise..."

he shook his head. completely scared and helpless:(((

"just trust me baby... you want mommy to fuck you, don't you?"

the question had been rhetorical, but you knew exactly what he wanted. he stared at you with those huge eyes, shivering from fear and need, "yes please mommy, i-i need you to please me.."

"good boy<33" you whispered and moved closer to him. "close your eyes and wait for mommy to fuck your sweet asshole :3"

he followed your orders like a good boy and he closed his eyes waiting for you to get ready to slide your fake cock into his ass<3

"mhmmm-m-mommy" his cute moans, echoing in the silence of the night, helped you to relax a bit before going through with it

"ready baby?" you asked as you pushed more of the toy towards his hole and started sliding it slowly inside of him

"uhhuh-hhuh-mm-mmm" he answered in a whisper as you continued to slide your big plastic dick in and out of his ass, occasionally stopping to put pressure on the tip of the cock

"your mommy loves how tight you are babyboy~ fuck- could you call me by my name sweetheart?" you asked while pushing the dildo deeper inside of him

"mhmm hmmm- y/n!! y/n baby<3" he moaned in excitement, he was trying his best to make his tiny asshole take more of the giant dildo inside of it, but he was struggling. his cute face was red from embarrassment and lust, you could tell he was really enjoying every second of it though<33

"oh my god mo...mommyyy!! i cant hold it, its coming!" he cried out loudly

the combination of his cries and you slowly moving the dildo in and out of his ass filled the room with soft moaning sounds <33

you finally stopped the slow motion movements and decided to speed up a little bit, slowly slid the big strap inside of him, each inch pushing further inside of him, deeper and deeper until it pressed against his prostate, stimulating him with gentle vibrations until he reached another orgasm:(((

he collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily while you removed the strap from his ass. you smiled down at him and knelt down to pet his hair, smiling widely at the sight of your babyboy getting pleasure from such things

a minute later he turned around and hugged you tightly, "thanks mommy... i love you so much <3" he said in between kisses on your cheek you smiled, "of course you do baby, i love you too <3" you replied and kissed him passionately on the lips

then, with nothing else left to do you both fell asleep wrapped up in each others arms:)

#mommy k!nk #md/lb #domme mommy #domme reader #dom reader #dom fem reader #sub men #x reader #headcanon #imagine #mommy dom little boy #femdxm #male sub #subby boys #soft fem dom #gentle fdom #fdom #boy sub #subby men #dom mommy #sub puppy #he gets pegged #men gets pegged #reader insert #reader interactive #oc x reader #your character here #imagine your f/o #imagine your favorite character #fuck tumblr

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Baby Fever [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits Left and Right (@meditando-en-paris) Center (@emily12o1970)

Prompt: The reader asks Emily if she wants to have a baby together. While this is a surprise, Emily has a little question of her own for the reader.

Pairing: [established relationship] Emily x Non-BAU!reader. The Reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: fluff/comfort

Word Count: 6.8K

Content Warnings: Slight angst, talk of getting pregnant, food and alcohol are mentioned, implied intimacy, discussion of politics. If I missed any, please let me know.  

A/N: Hi all! I’m so sorry it’s been a while since I’ve posted any fics in a while. The end of the semester has been wildly busy. However, I return with an Emily fic for @imagining-in-the-margins March and April writing challenge. I made my own prompt that is, a member of the couple isn’t sure they’ll make a good parent; they are reassured by a friend that they will be perfect. This is a continuation of my Moschino and Muddy Water series. You can find parts one, two, three, and four here (linked) You can read this as a stand-alone as well, you just need to know the reader works for a senator. This story kind of humbled me and challenged me as it took a long time to write and I needed to do lots of edits on it. But that is a good reminder for me. Writing can be hard, but it is worth the result to see you can come what you can come up with. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/s/t = your skin tone 

_y/f/s_ = your favorite scent

Emily walked into the living room of her apartment. y/n and she had recently repainted it a neutral beige that Derek had described as “sad sand” at brunch with Penelope, Spencer, JJ, and Will last month. y/n had nearly choked on her drink as he made the remark. It had been y/n’s idea to repaint their space to a more relaxing color. When y/n had suggested it, Emily had said, “Oh, what brought this on lover? Wasn’t it you last week who mentioned the security deposit on this place?” Em liked teasing y/n about these things because y/n was always a little more impulsive about things. Their dynamic remained light despite the hectic nature of their jobs. The ability to relax and joke in their off time kept both y/n and Prentiss sane. However, they were good at reading each other, most of the time. When things felt heavy or the job was pushing them to the edge of a breakdown, the jokes and teasing went out the window. 

Only once had y/n made a joke in poor taste about a case that Emily had not yet fully described, and the tall brunette had snapped. y/n had looked at her girlfriend with shock. Prentiss never spoke to her in this tone nor with the angry expression she had on her face. The silence in the room after Emily's outburst was deafening. Emily instantly felt guilty for how she had reacted. Prentiss cleared her throat and tried to apologize, but y/n said, “Save it. I need a minute.” y/n had moved back to their room and closed the door, and burst into tears. ‘A minute’ turned out to be a long sleepless night for the couple. y/n tossed and turned and wondered if she was overreacting and what she had missed about Emily when she came in with her go-bag. She had seemed fine to y/n as she came in with a smile and normal attitude. Meanwhile on the couch, Emily wondered why she had reacted with such venom. y/n was only trying to lighten the mood, and she hadn’t said how horrible she felt. If she had, Emily knew y/n would hug her and kiss her and make her feel better inside of cracking a joke. Prentiss sat up and looked out the open window onto to the street as a few cars drove by. Emily wondered what brought those driving out so late. Who were they and where they were going? She wondered if they were happy. She slumped back into the couch cushions and missed the warmth of y/n’s snuggled up in front of her and the cool feel of their sheets over them. 

In the morning, both Em and y/n had gotten up at the same time. Prentiss moved into their room which she found unlocked. y/n looked up at her. Em could see that she had been crying and the lack of sleep on y/n’s face. Before Prentiss could say anything, y/n stated, “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for how I acted. Immature and like a child. You didn’t deserve that.” Emily dropped her head and replied, “I’m sorry too. It was wrong of me to shout at you like that. You were just trying to make me happy.” y/n swallowed and said, “I was, but I must have been missing something. Would you tell me about the case, or what caused you to act like that?” 

Prentiss nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed taking y/n’s hand in hers. “Yes. Let me explain. Thank you for giving me the time and care to listen.” After a long conversation, the pair set up some boundaries about not keeping things inside after cases for Emily and taking time to check in after she got home for y/n. y/n knew Emily had been acting okay, but in reality, she wasn't. y/n noted that if she was in Emily’s shoes, she might want to laugh after work and a case and y/n thought Emily might feel the same way. So after they had talked and kissed and made up, they both felt a bit crusty and decided to take a shower together. 

It felt wonderful as Emily’s strong hands moved down her y/s/t’ed shoulders and back. The soap suds moved down y/n’s back and Prentiss rubbed them over her lush behind and thighs. y/n sighed into the touch. When Emily had finished rinsing y/n off, y/n turned and had Em face the water. y/n placed a dollop of her shampoo that smelled of rose and juniper berry in her palm. Prentiss smiled as y/n’s fingers brushed through her silky dark strands of hair massaging her scalp and then making sure that all of her locks were coated in shampoo before turning Em to rinse off her shoulder-length hair. After a few more minutes the water started running tepid, and y/n and Emily got out and dried off. They spent the rest of the Saturday morning lounging around and getting coffee from the fancy place two blocks over. It felt lovely to be back and not have an argument hanging over them. As y/n opened the door for Prentiss, she thought about how they worked together. They had their moments and arguments like any couple, but all in all, they were steady. It seemed that steady was something new to both of them, and it made them happy and secure in one another. It had made y/n so happy and secure that it had got her thinking about roots, about the future. 

A few weeks later, y/n woke up early and realized that Emily was up. She snapped her laptop shut. The sound had Em turn around and look at y/n with just a hint of concern in her dark eyes. y/n smiled and got out of her seat saying, “Good morning, baby. How did you sleep?” Emily’s face broke into a soft smile and she replied, “I slept well. I love it when you’re the big spoon. It makes me sleep like a baby.” y/n got up and wrapped Em in a hug and whispered in her ear, “Well, I’ll have to do that more often then.” y/n inhaled her smell and tried to hide the blush on her face before pulling back and saying, “Do you want some breakfast and coffee? Or maybe a mimosa. I feel like cooking something if you want.” Prentiss nodded and said, “I think I could go for some blueberry or chocolate chip waffles if you’re down to make them.” y/n nodded and replied, “Of course. What are we feeling for drinks?” Em let out a small laugh and said, “Well, how about I make us lattes and you pop open some prosecco? We’ve still got juice in the fridge too. I’ll get the glasses.” y/n nodded knowing that Emily didn’t like popping corks --  a quirk that y/n thought was so cute. Em turned away to get the fluted glasses for the mimosas and while her back was turned she considered how y/n had been acting the last few days. It was like she was holding some secret. When y/n’s computer was in front of her, y/n always seemed to close it quickly or move it so she couldn’t see the screen. It wasn’t only that. Sometimes she was on the phone and talking quietly to someone she didn’t know. The pit in Emily’s stomach grew. And yet when she looked back at y/n who was humming her new favorite song while pulling eggs out from the middle row of the fridge. 

This was so unlike y/n to hide things from her. When it had first happened, Emily thought that maybe y/n was cheating but that wasn’t something that y/n would do unless she had really misread her girlfriend and their relationship wasn’t going anywhere. This bothered Prentiss because she was planning on asking y/n to marry her in a month on their second anniversary. Even if things weren’t good with them, which y/n’s behavior indicated otherwise, Prentiss was uncomfortable with y/n hiding things from her. Em had a good way of feeling out people, and y/n had seemed more excited to be with her recently, so all of the messages both verbal and nonverbal were throwing her for a loop. Prentiss was going to talk to JJ and Penelope about it on Monday to see if they had any insight into what was going on. At this point, y/n and the rest of the girls on the BAU were thick as blood. Em took a breath and decided to not let her self-doubt ruin their relationship. She had let that happen before, and even though it had turned out to be a good thing, Emily didn’t want to do that here. She loved y/n, and she knew y/n loved her. If y/n needed to tell her something, Emily knew she would, even if it was something difficult to hear. Prentiss fixed her face and took a breath before setting the glasses on the counter for y/n who leaned in and gave her a kiss before she moved to the coffee maker. 

y/n started mixing up the waffle batter. y/n didn’t like keeping things from Emily, but this was such a big subject to even bring up, and she wanted to have all of the facts beforehand. Not so that she could try and argue her point with Emily, but so she was sure it was what she wanted. But the more y/n looked at their options of getting pregnant, the firmer y/n was about her desire to start a family with Em. It was a conversation they had had before. A shared desire to have kids and raise them in a house full of love and tenderness that neither y/n nor Emily had had as children growing up on opposite sides of the globe. So the topic of wanting kids wouldn’t be a shock, just how quickly y/n was bringing it up. And if Emily said she needed more time, y/n would wait, but she couldn’t deny that her baby fever was growing thanks to JJ’s pregnancy and some recent laws passing. The whole idea made y/n’s stomach flutter in both delight and worry. Thankfully y/n was almost ready to tell Em, and again there would be no secrets to hold, just a future to plan, whatever that looked like for them. 

         The following Monday at work, Emily found Penelope in her office with its room full of screens and trinkets. Prentiss smiled at how Garcia’s personality shone through wherever she was. Em found the tech whizz inspirational in that way and many others. Garcia was busy typing something on her laptop and Emily had called her name twice already. Without any other options apart from pulling the plug on one of Penelope's babies, Emily tapped her on the shoulder instead. The genius shot out of her seat and Prentiss was eternally grateful that Gacria wasn’t holding one of her large cups of soda. “My God Emily, are you trying to get me out of my skin?” Penelope retorted when she had caught her breath. Em smiled and said, “It was that, or pull the plug on your computer. I thought you’d appreciate the latter. I did call your name twice.” Garcia let out a shaky laugh and said, “Okay, well lord, I have to stop listening to music so loud when I’m at work. Hotch got mad at me for it once already and somehow he’s always right because I don’t want to be scared like that again. So what brings you to my cave today dear? Need me to cast a love spell on you?” Prentiss laughed and replied, “Well I’m okay on that front. A clarification spell might be more in order. Are you back on the RPG game again?” Garcia blushed and said, “Maybe, maybe not. Anyhow, does the team need my presence?” Em nodded her head no, sat down on the ledge of Penelope's table, and said, “Not right now. I was just wondering if y/n had talked to you recently. She’s been acting kind of strange in the last three weeks and I just wanted to know if she has something planned?” 

Penelope was buzzing in her seat because she had an answer but had promised y/n that she wouldn’t say anything to Emily about it. y/n had discreetly asked around the office if anyone knew someone who had IVF treatments before and would be willing to talk candidly about the process, how much it cost, and the pros and cons of the procedure. The only other person who did know someone who had gone through In Vitro Fertilization was Rossi, but Dave didn’t think that person would want to discuss such an intimate part of their lives with a stranger, even if it was a friend of his. However, Penelope had a good friend named Shayla back from her college days who was now a happy single mom and had moved to the Virginia area last year for a new job with her little boy. y/n had met Shayla once before, and when Garcia brought her up as a possibility, y/n almost begged her to ask Shayla if she was comfortable talking about the long process. When Pen brought it up in their next catch-up call, Shayla happily agreed to share her knowledge. She had done plenty of research before deciding to move forward with having a child on her own, understood the great sacrifice and fears that could come with it, and was happy to give any helpful information she had. Of course, this conversation had prompted Penelope to ask y/n why she was asking and y/n had revealed that she was thinking of asking Emily to have a baby with her. Garcia had freaked out, jumping up and down in excitement. y/n had to stop her from running out of the room and shouting at anyone that her friend was getting pregnant. Once the blonde analyst had settled down, y/n took a breath and said, “Now Penelope. I know you’re excited but I’m just in the research stage which sounds calculated when I put it like that, I haven’t told Emily about this yet and I need to be sure I feel confident before I spring this on her. Could you please please, please not tell her?” Garcia nodded seriously and said, “My lips are sealed. I pinky promise.” y/n let out a sigh of relief. 

But as Garcia was faced with Emily now, it wasn’t as easy as telling y/n her secret was safe. It was threatening to burst out of her seams and she needed to come up with an excuse fast or risk losing a dear friend in y/n. Penelope cleared her throat and said, “Hey, Em. I kinda stayed up all night playing that game and well as you can see I’m running numbers for Stan’s team….” She gave her best pleading eyes that seemed to work on everyone. Prentiss let out a soft laugh and replied, “Alright, What flavor do you want grape, Cola, or orange?” Pen smiled brightly and said, “Orange, please. You are a lifesaver!” Emily patted her on the top of her blond head and said, “Well just hope Hotch or JJ doesn’t call a new case while I’m gone. You should get someone to install controls or something on your system at home to stop you from staying up twenty-four-seven.” Garica scoffed, looked at Emily’s retreating form, and said, “Baby, if anyone could crack into my harddrive, I’d let them.” As Emily moved out of the office and toward the 7-11 to get Penelope’s soda, she felt relieved. Not that she fully believed nothing was happening with y/n, but if the team hadn’t noticed anything, then, it made her feel better. Once Emily was out of sight, Penelope whipped out her phone and texted y/n: “Emily is asking questions, baby girl. I’d start thinking about asking her soon or she might find out what you’re doing.” 

The week moved by quickly with lots of paperwork for Emily and the start of a new campaign cycle for y/n who moaned about it as much as possible without being annoying to Em. It didn’t help that the senator y/n worked with had gotten themselves into another scandal that was rocking their office and party. When y/n was going on a rant about corruption on Friday night Emily hugged her from behind, kissed her temple, and said, “I’m sorry sweetheart. I know it’s annoying, but you're good at your job even if it’s a bad system. But that doesn’t make you bad.” y/n relaxed into Prentiss’s embrace. y/n let out a sigh and said, “I’m sorry for going off. I know it’s annoying.” Emily nuzzled her face into y/n’s neck to relax her further as she whispered, “Don’t apologize y/n. Work can be agonizing sometimes, I know that as much as anyone. If it bothers me I'll tell you. Now, how about we do something fun tomorrow? We could get brunch at that place we like in midtown. You know the place where you asked me out officially?” y/n’s face broke out into a smile and she said, “I’d love that Em. Sorry if I’ve been a little distant right now. I’ve been thinking about some things and I want to share them with you in the morning. It’s nothing bad or anything, but something I just want to discuss with you. You’re everything to me love, and I’m so happy we’re together.” Prentiss’s heart fluttered knowing that y/n was finally going to tell her what was going on. Her words were reassuring, that it ‘wasn't’ bad’ or ‘anything bad about her,’ but even so, her nerves sang inside as they both headed to bed. 

In the morning, y/n woke up slightly early for a Saturday and got into a hot shower. She washed her body in _y/f/s_ed body wash. She then moved to her hair and shampooed and conditioned it. Lastly y/n shaved so her legs were smooth. When she stepped out of the shower, Emily was up. y/n walked into their room in a towel, and Em looked up from the bed, Her brown eyes got wider and she said, “Well, good morning, love?” y/n smiled and said, “Morning sweetheart.” y/n dropped her towel, and lazily crawled on the bed. Emily followed her with her eyes and her tongue slipped out of her mouth and wetted her lower lip subconsciously. y/n grinned and moved over Emily’s body and kissed her gently at first and then with more passion. Em snaked her hands around y/n’s hips. Once y/n’s tongue was slipped into Emily’s mouth, her fingers moved to y/n’s hair and tugged it gently at the root. After y/n and Prentiss were desperate for air, y/n pulled away and moved onto her knees before saying, “Maybe we should get dressed or we’ll miss brunch sweetheart.” Emily whined and said, “Do we have to?” y/n laughed and replied, “I think so. I’m in need of a good mimosa and waffle. Plus, we can get right back to this when we get back if we want.” Emily sat up and brushed her thumb over y/n’s jaw before saying, “Alright love. Give me a few minutes to get ready and we can go. It’s good if we go sooner though because you know how crazy that place gets after 11:00.” y/n nodded in agreement as she moved to the closet to pick out a spring dress and some matching jewelry while Emily used the bathroom and vanity to get ready. Emily chose a pink jumpsuit that fit her curves perfectly and was strapless showing off her lovely shoulders and neck. 

y/n and Emily got to the restaurant before the big rush and were seated outside at a quiet corner table surrounded by a fence and hedge that gave the space a cool and calm feeling away from the bustle inside and the rush of cars outside. A waiter came and got their drink orders and while he was there, Emily and y/n also ordered pain au chocolat. Emily got a glass of white wine and y/n got a pomegranate mimosa, and they both got coffee. The lean man noted what they wanted and moved away. The wait time at this spot was longer giving people time to relax and talk. y/n looked at Emily wondering if she should start the conversation. Emily returned y/n’s smile, her face looking radiant in the glow of the midmorning sun. Prentiss shifted in her seat and said, “You’ve been looking so happy the last few days. Whatever it is you have to tell me I just want to say I’m so happy to see you like this. I wish every day could be like this. That there wasn’t the stress or worry of our jobs looming over us. But you make me feel safe and seen every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Once Emily said the words aloud, the idea in her head sprang so full and bright that she felt like she might be bowled over by a small breeze. The idea had been there for a few months but she hadn’t planned it. Certainly hadn’t even dreamed of it being like this, but it felt so right. When she looked over at y/n who was clearly saying something, Emily thought for a brief moment that she might be looking at the sun, blinding it it’s light and radiance. Prentiss cleared her throat and mind and finally heard y/n repeat, “Are you alright darling? You were in your own world there for a second.” Emily nodded now knowing what she was going to do and said, “Yeah I’m good. I just had an idea. So I suppose I have something to tell you too. But you go first. What was it you were wanting to tell me today that you’ve been so secretive about?” y/n blushed and felt better now that they both were going to say something, though she had no idea what Emily had up her sleeve. y/n replied, “Well why don’t you go first.” Prentiss shot back teasingly, “No you first.” They repeated this one more time before they both blurted out at the same time: 

“I want to have a baby with you.” 

“I want to marry you.” 

When Emily and y/n both registered what the other had said they were stunned into silence. y/n felt her chest tighten with emotions that threatened to bubble over. She composed herself first and asked in awe, “Emily Prentiss, are you proposing to me right now?” Emily took a shallow breath in at what y/n had said about wanting a baby and y/n’s question and, she said, “I am, sweetheart. It just felt right right now. I don’t want to spend another day without you being mine in the most real way possible. Time just goes by so fast and as soon as we know it we’ll both be grey and have bad knees. We’re both gone so often from each other so I’d like you to be mine if you’re willing to be. y/n, will you marry me?” Emily got out of her chair and onto one knee. Again she was glad they were in a quieter part of the restaurant. y/n nodded her head yes and fell to her knees next to Em embracing her in a hug and saying, “Yes, Oh of course I will. I love you so much, I want my whole life with you.” They both stayed there for a moment on the brick floor before Emily raised her head from y/n’s shoulder wiping her own eyes of the salty liquid at her corneas before pulling back and helping y/n to her feet. They hugged properly with a tight embrace that said they would never be apart for longer than they had to be, and even when they were apart, they would still be together. Em pulled back and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring for you, but it just felt right to ask you now. I promise I’ll get you one that’s just perfect.” y/n smiled and said, “I know whatever you pick out will be perfect love.” She leaned in and planted her mouth on Emily’s and they both let go of each other with a feeling of lightness and ecstasy that neither had expected this morning in bed. Just as they both sat down, the waiter returned with their pastries and drinks on a tray. He set all the plates and glasses down and said he’d be back in a bit to see if they needed anything else. 

Once he had gone, y/n and Emily raised their glasses to their engagement and y/n said, “To the best fiance I could ever ask for!” As they clinked glasses Em added, “And to my favorite person in the whole world.” They both took sips of their drinks and what y/n had said resurfaced to the front of Prentiss’s mind after the euphoria of y/n saying yes to her proposal dimmed slightly. Em leaned forward and asked, “y/n you want to have a baby?” y/n flushed and nodded sheepishly. Suddenly talking to Emily about this made her feel nervous. With a steadying breath y/n replied, “Not just a baby Em. I want to have your baby. I’ve been researching reciprocal IVF. Looking up what the procedure is like for both parties, how expensive it is, and where there are clinics nearby that we could visit and consult with. I even went as far as talking to some people who’ve done it before to see how their experience was for them. That’s what I’ve been researching for the last few weeks. And I know this sounds so fast. Like I’m rushing. I don’t mean to pressure you into making a choice now or next week or month or even year. I just want you to know that I’d love to build a life with you. A life that might include children in the future if that’s something you're interested in. I just wanted to have all the facts I could about what that would possibly be like before springing something this big on you” Emily absorbed the information and took a sip of her drink. She said with a smile, “Look at you doing your research. Not that you don’t research, but I think we’re rubbing off on each other. You’re making me more comfortable in making big moves like proposing while I’m making you research a topic as much as possible.” y/n laughed and said, “Well, I guess that makes us pretty compatible, huh.” Emily chuckled and continued to think about what y/n had just said. 

It wasn’t something they had talked about recently, but children was a topic of discussion they had had and it made Emily relieved to know that y/n left that secure in their relationship that it was something she was seriously thinking about. Now that they were engaged, it only made more sense, even though y/n couldn’t have known that coming into today. For a moment Emily pictured y/n cradling their baby, and then a toddler running around their apartment, and the child grown up and going off to school. Prentiss pulled herself from the film playing in her head. As lovely an image as it was, it was a lot to think about. She lifted her eyes up to y/n’s nervous gaze. Prentiss moved her right hand to y/n’s and held it across the table saying, “I think that’s a beautiful idea y/n. It is a lot to think about. I do appreciate that you’re comfortable enough to tell me something that’s really important to you. Would you mind if I give it some time to think through?” y/n squeezed Emily’s palm and replied, “Take all the time you need love. There’s no rush.” Prentiss felt a surge of warmth move through her not associated with the fact that she was sitting in the sun. Having someone as passionate and who understood her so well was the best thing that could have happened to her. Emily did wonder if something had prompted y/n into her desire for children. She’d never been one to have baby fever before now and the shift was interesting to her. 

Emily watched y/n sip her drink and relax in her chair a bit. Prentiss asked, “Sweetheart, what sparked your desire for kids if anything? Or did it just sort of happen?” y/n sighed and said, “It’s been coming for a while I think, but things have made it speed up for me I suppose.” Emily nodded her head as if to say, “Keep going, love.” y/n placed her palms flat on the table and continued, “I guess that so much crazy stuff has been happening in the country recently. I know you know that. We both do as we work in the government, but the upturning of Roe V. Wade and all the crazy abortion bans popping up all over the place. I suppose I just don’t want to be too late. Like one day we both decided it was time and by then we didn’t even have that option. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or to push you in any way, we have time, it’s just made me prioritize some things in my life that I hadn’t given too much thought to before now. I mean if Alabama can almost stop IVF then I’m afraid of what might come after that. I suppose having a child became more important to me the more things like that happen here.” 

Emily gave a soft smile, she could more fully see where y/n was coming from and it made sense with her personality. Em moved her hand across the table and stroked her cheek gently before saying, “That makes sense darling. I’m going to have to think about it for a while before we do anything, but maybe when we get home, you can tell me a bit more about the process, and the cost. If we commit to something like this we’re going to need to be saving for some time.” y/n chuckled and said, “Take all the time you need darling. We can save money for that and a wedding too.” Emily paused and said, “Do you mind if I don’t tell the team right away about the engagement? I just want to get a ring and have it be a bit more put together because once I tell them, we’re going to be swamped with questions from JJ, Garcia, and Rossi.” y/n snorted and covered her mouth at how accurate Emily was. She could picture that conversation happening and how Garica would pounce on Em and then how she’d get ten calls for Penelope and then some texts and another call from Dave congratulating her. Since y/n had gotten to know the team more, Rossi had become a father figure which made her heart warm. y/n replied, “Yes, of course sweetheart. That will be a day to remember. Almost as exciting as getting to say yes to you Mrs. Prentiss.” 

Shortly after this their waiter came back and got them a second round of drinks and they ordered some plates to share. The weekend flew by as always, and Emily showed up at Quantico with an excited air about her. The team slowly rolled into the bullpen on work days like they normally did. Em and JJ passed through security at the same time, and JJ who was now very pregnant asked Prentiss, “You seem preoccupied today. Is something up?” Emily tried to stay cool and said, “Nope, well apart from the fact that y/n and I had a late night last night.” Em gave JJ a wink and JJ shot her a sly smile replying, “Well that would make you pretty tired I suppose.” Emily laughed and the two women moved up to their floor. Prentiss hadn’t been lying about y/n and her last night. They’d spent a few pleasurable hours both in the shower and the bed solidifying their bond. Telling one truth and omitting two others felt better than a flat-out lie. Emily was a mix of emotions today and it did make her feel and perhaps look different which she was trying to hide. She was incredibly happy about the unofficial engagement but nervous about y/n’s question. It was more than a question, it was a whole new part of their life if they pursued it. Emily spent a good deal of the morning telling Spencer and Penelope that nothing was wrong and that she was fine but tired. Even Aaron gave her a look saying that he knew something was up. But Hotch didn’t always have the time for gossip and he trusted and knew Em enough that if she was having a serious problem, she could come to him anytime night or day. By lunch time, Prentiss felt a little bit more emotionally drained than she had coming into work. She hardly noticed Derek sneak in behind her to use the microwave when her leftover pasta was finished reheating. 

Morgan said over the hum of the microwave, “So you told Spence and Garcia everything is fine and you gave Hotch that look that it’s all cool and they left you alone, but you're one of the most put-together people on the team and something is off. Keeping secrets is a burden and I’d think you’d like at least one person to know what’s playing in your mind on repeat. Listen if we go on a case or something then it might make you slower. Would you please tell me what’s going on? I won’t tell anyone else. You know I’m also good at keeping a secret.” Derek’s appearance startled Emily, and she jumped at his first few words but calmed quickly as she listened more intently to what he was saying. She bit the inside of her lip. The problem was she knew Derek was right and somehow that bothered her. However, Morgan would be as good a person to tell as any. Their bond was strong, but not as interwoven as the rest of the team. And he was good at keeping quiet. Prentiss deflated slightly and decided to be honest with Derek saying, “Okay but this stays between us, please?” Morgan nodded his consent and indicated for Em to continue. Emily thought of the proposal but knew the issue that was bugging her was what she should say. Finally, she stated, with a slow caution, “y/n wants to have a baby with me.” 

That response was far from what Derek had been expecting, and he blinked a few times just to ensure he’d heard correctly. Slowly a smile crept to his face replying, “That’s amazing, Em!” Emily nodded lightly and Derek was confused as to why she wasn’t showing the same joy he was. He cleared his throat lightly and asked, “Do you not want that Emily?” Prentiss let out a long sigh and said what she’d been thinking about since last night: “I do think I want kids in time. And y/n and I have talked about that before now. We talked about it before we became serious.” Derek was confused by her hesitation and asked, “Is y/n like, rushing you into this?” Emily nodded no and replied, “No not at all. She knows me too well for that. She did a bunch of research beforehand and told me there wasn’t any rush. And also that if kids wasn’t something I was interested in she and I could talk about it.” This reply left Derek even more confused and he scratched the back of his head. Finally, Morgan asked, “So, why are you upset exactly?” Em came out with it and said, “What if I’m a bad mom? I can see y/n being the most loving and caring parent in the world, but my track history with my mother just doesn’t indicate that I’m going to be that competent a parent.” 

When Emily got to the point of contention, Derek couldn’t help but chuckle, and Prentiss lightly slapped his board arm and said, “Don’t laugh at me, Morgan.” Derek managed to stop his chuckling and say, “I’m mainly laughing at your wording, Em. I don’t think any parent would say they are ‘competent.’ And if you’re going to question me on that, ask Hotch if he thinks he’s a competent parent with Jack or JJ with her baby. I swear no one has it all figured out.” Emily was still hesitant and Derek continued, “Emily no matter what you decide it’s going to be the right thing. I know you and y/n won’t jump into anything, but if you ask me, I think you’ll make a fantastic parent.” Emily could tell that Morgan was no longer joking and she asked, “Why do you say that?” She was genuinely curious to hear how he would answer. Morgan leaned against the wall and replied, “Well you could just call it intuition, but the other sign to me is how in tune with yourself and y/n you are. You notice things about everyone, especially y/n. If you decide to have a kid together that will be the most loved child ever. You may not have it all figured out, but with how much you care about each other, I know you and y/n will figure out the rest. You’ll be a great Mom Em.” Emily felt her heart warm slightly and the original image of a child running around her and y/n’s apartment, or the park, or a variety of other idyllic scenes came back in a rush. She knew this wasn’t always going to be the reality, but she felt encouraged and replied to Morgan, “Thanks, Derek. I appreciate that. And thanks for letting me ramble.” Derek smiled again and was happy to see Emily happy. He said, “You got it Em. And my lips are sealed.” Emily felt much better the rest of the day having one person know what she was thinking about. It helped so much that after she had talked about it, she found it much easier to work. 

It was a few weeks later as Prentiss had found the right ring for y/n, and she and y/n had talked about breaking that set of news to the team that Emily came up behind y/n who was standing at the kitchen counter. Prentiss hugged y/n gently from behind and said softly in her ear, “y/n, I want to try. I want to try for a baby with you.” y/n froze and then turned around slowly in Emily’s arms and said, “Really?” Emily nodded and replied, “Really baby. I want some time before we go for it, but I want to be with you.” y/n felt her eyes well with tears of happiness. Her life had felt so empty and barren before she met Emily. Now life felt so full. She was getting married to the best woman ever, and they were planning a family. A lot was yet to come in their journey, but for now, everything was perfect. As the tears started rolling, y/n mouthed, “I love you so, so much Emily,” as she leaned in with her tear-stained face and kissed Em with all the love she could give. Emily wrapped her arms around y/n and kissed her back. Yes, time went quickly, but together they would make the most of every minute there was between them and the family they were planning.

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[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GUTS — johnny slaughter

WARNINGS: 18+, you're shorter than johnny in this (wiki says he's 6ft), f!soft-bodied!reader, sadistic!johnny (this man thrives off of other peoples pain he would enjoy it in bed too), light knife play, blood play, kidnapping, coercion, crying, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, typical tcm shit

A/N: please do not flag this for no reason, just block me. flagging my work as mature means it isn't seen by as many people in the tags when searched. Also!!!!, this is really long for no reason (4k words) AND I already have a multi part no slasher!AU in the works that's gonna be bordering on 10 chapters, knowing me it'll eternally be a wip tho...

Taking in a shaky breath, you hold it, willing the pounding of your heart to calm down as you listen for any movement around you. All you hear is the sounds of the forest, but still you sit and wait. You had been separated from the others that you had escaped with, though you suppose separated is the wrong word to use in this situation.

One of the girls that had been captured with you, a tall girl with matted brown hair and milky, bruise covered skin, had shoved you the second she had heard a noise from one of your kidnappers as they gained up on you. You had fallen down a pretty steep slope, thankfully lost in the heavy foliage that covered the ground and shrouded you instead of becoming the bait she wanted you to be.

It takes you more time than you would like to admit to get your bearings back, unable to see anything from under a bush. It hurts to breathe, and your vision is hazy from hitting your head on the way down. There's the sound of a too close chainsaw revving up above you, making the pounding of your head worsen, followed by the screams of the traitor that shoved you down the slope.

"Please, please, don't do this. I haven't done anything wrong!" She cries, as if she didn't just try to trade your life in for her own. You wince when you hear her scream again, drowned out by the chainsaw cutting through her flesh and blood splattering onto every nearby surface. The sound has your stomach curling, but a part of you feels that she had it coming for what she did to you.

When the stomping of the mask wearing man's feet are a distant, you allow yourself to breathe more comfortably, loosening up your death grip on the old piece of pipe you had grabbed as a weapon when you got out of your restraints. Your fingers ache, knuckles popping as they relax for the first time in what has felt like hours.

"That's what you get, twig ass bitch," you mutter under your breath. When your heart beat finally goes back to a more normal level, and you don't feel like you're about to shake out of your skin, you slowly drag yourself out from the brush, looking around the slowly darkening woods for a way to go.

Readjusting your grip on the pipe, you slowly make your way away from the chaos, hoping that they don't look down here for you.

You don't know where you're going or how far you've gotten, all you know is that you greatly regret putting on a skirt yesterday morning. Not only has it gotten caught on just about everything while you've been running for your life, but the humid Texas heat has caused your thighs to chafe something fierce, and it's starting to sting more than the cuts that litter your arms and torso.

Eventually, you find a shallow stream, and you quickly stumble your way to it. Dipping your fingers in, you sigh at the cool water against your sweaty skin. You carefully scoop some up into your hands, not wanting to make any noise as you press your face into your cupped hands.

There's a faint ribbon of red that you watch slowly get mixed into the water, and you dump it into the stream, watching it quickly disappear. You scoop up another cool batch of water, careful to keep any from spilling through your shaking fingers. It's as you're bringing your hands up to sip from the water that you feel all the hair on your body stand up on end, heart racing.

Looking into the trees, you slowly stand up, turning in place. You can't really see anything, but you know you're not crazy. You also know that you're absolutely fucked. The forest is not something you find yourself in often, or at all, really, and considering it borders onto these crazy fuckers property... they probably knew where you were the whole time.

You want to yell, to scream out your frustrations onto whoever it is that's following you. But your voice is dry, and even breathing has started to feel like too much, your voice cracking around the whispered words, "I-" you swallow roughly, eyes frantically looking around, "I know you're there."

You hear nothing around you, but you know. There are eyes on you. Just how close... you have no idea.

The next breath you take is shaky, eyes watering as you hop over the little stream. Taking another look around you and still finding nothing, you continue on your way.

Crickets jump around you as you carefully make your way to what you hope is safety, spooking you every time they jump in front of your vision. You're struggling for air as the mounting panic starts to cloud your senses, breaths coming in rushed puffs. Your heart is pounding in your ears, so loud that you don't hear the sound of someone walking behind you.

You let out a scream when the back of your shirt is grabbed and yanked, thrusting your elbow back as hard as possible and hitting them in the stomach. There isn't any give, a hard plane of muscle that probably hurts you more than them.

"Well! Look who we've got here!" The man says, a laugh coating his voice. His hand twists in your shirt, the collar of it tightening around your throat. With a rough yank your back is flush against his chest, and you catch the glint of his knife as he presses his fist into your stomach, the tip of the blade nicking the underside of your breast.

You hiss in pain, flinching away from the blade and bumping into his chest. The nearly too tight grip he has on your shirt disappears, but you aren't able to take a breath before that hand has come around to grip at your throat. The thick expanse of his calloused fingers press into your smooth skin, the pressure your neck a warning that has you freezing on the spot.

His fingers flutter, pressing into the sides of your throat, and the breathy sound you let out has both of you freezing in place. His chest pushes against your back as he takes in a deep breath, the exhale painting goosebumps along your damp neck. The man's grip loosens just slightly, before squeezing again. Another moan is pulled from you, and you can feel the man laugh against your back, the low tone sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh, am I gonna 'ave fun with you." The man drops the hand from around your throat, using it to grip your upper arm, steering you back the way you came. The tip of his blade is still scraping your skin, the constant pain seeming to send shocks all over your body. He takes a sharp turn that you aren't prepared for, a gasp leaving you as he shoves you up against a particularly thick tree.

The blade in his hand is dropped to the forest floor, his left hand cupping your cheek roughly as he directs your face up to his. His brown eyes are impossibly dark as they take you in, free hand palming your waist. He’s hiked up your flowy, flower patterned shirt, his big hand sliding up your torso to thumb at the cut under your breast.

You hiss in pain, but that only seems to excite him, the man bringing his blood covered thumb up to his lips, tongue poking out to guide the appendage into his mouth. The low moan that escapes him has you clenching your thighs together, eyes wide as you watch his thumb slide out of his mouth, traces of your bright red blood left on his tongue.

“Fuck, best thing 've ever tasted,” he mutters, hands moving to collect more of the slow trickling blood. Your hands are shaky as they grip onto his blood stained tank top, watching his face as he stares down at his hand, thick fingers disappearing into the meat of your breast instead of swiping up more of your blood.

He dips his head down to mouth at your neck, teeth unforgiving against your skin. His tight grip on you and the tree at your back keeps you from flinching away, at his mercy as his teeth work at your flesh. He doesn't break skin, but it's a near thing, a bruise no doubt starting to form already.

“Ah, hurts,” you whine, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. Despite the pain, you don't try to push him away, hands steadily holding his black tank. Hot puffs of breath dance over your damp skin as he laughs, running his tongue over the bruised flesh before pulling back to look at you.

“That so?” Hesitantly, you nod, heart pounding as you let your weight fully rest up against the tree, breathing shaky as his previously idle hand starts to palm at your breast. His large hand seems to engulf you, and you can't help but push into his touch. He's rough with this too, as you suspect he is with all things, groping you while he watches on with a satisfied look on his face.

Slowly, your fingers unclench from his shirt, and you press your hand flat against his chest. You can feel his warmth even through his shirt, hands trailing absently over his defined pecs. You watch your hands move as he chuckles, eyes flicking up to find him smirking down at you.

“Pretty little thing like you,” he starts, thumb running along your cheekbone, “bet you're sweet all over, ain't ya?"

The next breath you take is shaky, eyes wide and glassy as you stare up at him. He hums, head tilting as he observes you.

“Wanna know what I think?” He whispers, head dipping down again. This time he doesn't bite you, though there's still a twinge of pain as he sucks over the bruises his teeth had made. Your response is lost in your gasp, knees buckling at the unexpected current of pleasure that wracks through you. If it weren't for him pressing you against the tree, you would probably be on the ground right now.

“Think I'm gonna keep you all to myself. You'd be my good girl, won't you?” He moves up to mouth at your jaw, wet open mouthed kisses following his path to your mouth, “Whaddya say, think you could be Johnny's good girl?”

Through the fear pumping through you at the thought of what would happen to you if you said no, there's a part of you, a sick and twisted part, that really, desperately wants to succumb to this sadistic man's whims. You know saying yes would be just as bad as what will happen if you say no. There's no knowing what he would do to you, but that part of you frankly doesn't care.

“Please,” you whisper, letting your hands wrap around his broad torso, palms flat against his back as you press his muscular body against yours, as if he could get any closer, “so good. I'll be your good girl.”

You don't fight the hand on your face as he guides you, eyes fluttering at the close proximity of your faces. Johnny's eyes are crinkled at the corners, his smirk pressed against the corner of your mouth, “Good.”

Johnny's lips are aggressive as they press against yours, seeming to consume you as his tongue bullies its way into your mouth. There's nothing you can do but endure the attack, moaning and gasping into his mouth as his other hand continues to grope you.

Overwhelmed by the force of his kiss, you can't keep yourself still. Tree bark scrapes your skin with every shudder his skillful tongue pulls from you, but you barely feel it. All you feel is him, his all encompassing presence that looms over you and threatens to consume your very being.

Through his jeans and your skirt, you can feel his erection pressing into your lower stomach as you shift against him. The feeling of it seems to awaken something in you, a primal urge you've never felt before, your hands dropping from his back to pathetically fumble at the bottom of his tank. Once you get your hands on his skin you can't keep them still, running them up and down the warm expanse of his back.

You can feel slight imperfections on his skin, long lines of damaged flesh that match the scars on his face. You trace over them, letting your nails trail over his skin in your exploration. There's barely enough space between you to breathe, but somehow you're able to wedge your arms between the two of you to trace over his stomach.

The skin there is soft, though you can still feel the faint definition of the muscles beneath. You continue to run your hands up, though just as your fingers dance along his pecks the hand groping you is instantly grabbing your wrist, yanking it out and pressing your hand roughly against the tree next to your head.

“Not yet, I ‘ain't had my fun,” he mumbles against your neck, giving your bottom lip a little nip before he pulls away completely. He lets go of your hand, the other dropping from your face to pull up the bottom of your skirt. His big hands palm at your ass, fingers harsh as they squeeze.

All too soon he's stepping back from you, arms crossed as his eyes drag over your form. You feel squirmy under his gaze, fingers fidgeting with each other as you wait for him to say or do anything.

“Y’look like you have too much clothes on,” he says, and you can hear the hidden command in his words. You're quick to ruck your shirt over your head, the thin lace bra sticking to your sweaty skin. Trembling fingers take longer than you'd like to work the button of your skirt, though once that's open you're able to shove it down over plush thighs, letting it fall to the forest floor.

“That's it darlin’, why don't you get laid out real nice for me, huh?” He's leering at you, watching the way your body moves as you sit down on the forest floor. He seems to enjoy watching you follow his every command, hand absently palming his erection the whole time.

You're careful as you lay down, making sure to stuff your now dirt covered clothes underneath you as some sort of padding. There's still rocks and sticks that make it uncomfortably uneven, but at least they won't be cutting into your skin. Once you're settled, thighs clenched tight and hands fidgeting on your stomach, you look up at Johnny as you wait for instructions.

He hums, taking the few steps needed to stand at your feet, “Good girl.”

You can't keep the pleased hum down, watching him with wide eyes as he start's unbuckling his belt. He doesn't bother to take it off though, undoing the button and zipper before he's kneeling at your feet.

He plants both hands on your knees, pushing them open to stare down at you. You know you're wet, you can feel the fabric of your panties sticking to your skin uncomfortably. There's probably a wet spot too, and you turn your head away when you notice the smug look on his face.

A thick finger presses right over your hole, going as deep as the fabric can allow. Your pussy clenched at the intrusion, desperate for him to fill you. Rolling your hips up, you try to force the finger deeper, huffing when he pulls away.

“What a desperate little thing, hmm?” He slips a finger through the crotch of your panties, pulling them off of you roughly. You lift your hips to help aid the process, hands falling between your legs to cover yourself up.

"Thought you wanted to be my good girl," Johnny says, hand coming up to gently cradle the side of your face, a sharp contrast to his mean glare and condescending tone that he directs at you. Your heart pounds in your chest, legs falling open to allow him enough space to shuffle forward.

"I do. I- I am," you manage to choke out, slowly pulling your hands away from where you were covering yourself. Instead you fist them in his dirty shirt to try and bring his mouth down to yours, whining when he doesn't budge at your insistent tugging.

The smirk that spreads over his face sends a shiver down your spine, and his thumb glides down your cheek to prod at your kiss swollen lips. He tugs the bottom lip down, pressing the pad of his thumb roughly against your tender flesh.

"Open," he commands, and you do so without a thought. He's slow as he eases his thumb into your mouth, letting you lave your tongue over his calloused skin before it's easing further into your mouth. His thumb, thick and long and big like the rest of his fingers, teases at the back of your throat, and you feel tears collecting as you fight back the urge to gag at the intrusion.

He takes pity on you, slowly pulling his thick thumb from your mouth to then harshly press it against your clit. The rough pressure has your hips bucking, not knowing if you want to roll up against the touch or pull away. Johnny doesn't give you an option either way, thick fingers practically disappearing into your thigh to keep you still, gripping so hard you're surprised they haven't torn through your flesh.

You can't stop the desperate sounds that fall from your lips, your pleas garbled as your legs fall further open. His blunt nails scrape the delicate flesh above your clit as he abuses your sex, drawing loud, drawn out whines as you writhe on the forest floor. Johnny only seems to thrive on your suffering, shifting so that he can press two fingers into you at the same time. You're embarrassingly wet, so they easily slide in despite how thick his fingers are, relieving the empty feeling that has settled over you.

“Fuck, woman, you're wetter than all hell,” he's sat back to watch the way your cunt greedily sucks his fingers in, hips rolling down to match the thrusting of his fingers. Wet squelching fills the forest, your soft, breathy gasps barely heard over the sound.

Johnny crowds into your space, leaving a trail of bites up your neck and to your lips. The kiss is rough, teeth clicking together from the rough treatment before he comes in at a better angle. It's dirty and sloppy and wet, teeth biting at your bottom lip every time he pulls back to take a breath.

It's too much, a sensory overload that has your brain turning to mush. His fingers curl aggressively inside you, thumb rubbing painful circles on your clit. Slowly, your hands release the death grip they have on his shirt, unsteady as they move to thread through his short hair. The tight grip you have on his hair has him growling out a warning, the nip he gives to your lip drawing blood.

You hastily grab onto the back of his shirt, tears blurring your vision as you pull back from his lips with a desperate gasp. Heaving breaths escape your lips, moans and whines tumbling into pleas as you beg him not to stop. He presses a kiss to your forehead that's more teeth than lips because of his wide grin, a dark chuckle following soon after.

Hips rolling desperately into his touch, you chase the orgasm you can feel building.

“That's it, give it to me,” his voice is low, and the command sends a shiver down your spine, cunt clenching around his fingers. Your gasps get stuck in your throat, high pitched whines drowning out the sound of your arousal as you cum.

Johnny doesn't let up even after you've cum, fingers working at you at a brutal pace, bringing another orgasm that hurts as much as it feels good. You try in vain to pull away from his touch, but he just holds your hips down with his free hand, fingers working ruthlessly as you twitch and cry.

“Good girl,” Johnny finally lets up, pulling his soaked hand from between your legs. He licks a long stripe up his fingers, chuckling at the fucked out look on your face, “sweet as honey.”

You can't do much more than lay there watching him as he sits back on his heels, quickly pulling his tank top up over his head. His chest is littered with scars, and you can't help the way your eyes trace over each pale line that decorates his skin. They look like they were painful, and you're brushing a hand over one before you can even think.

Thankfully he doesn't get mad at you touching him this time, silent as he lets you explore. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft, a light dusting of hair trailing down from his belly button and disappearing into his pants. You let your nails trail through the hair, relishing in the deep sound that rumbles in his throat.

Lips pulled between your teeth, you can't help but admire the way his arms move as he works on pushing down his jeans. The muscles move under the flesh, arm as sturdy looking as the rest of him. You tug on the band of his jeans, inching them down over his legs, eyes laser focused onto his cock, no underwear in sight.

Your fingers wrap around his erection easily, swiping your thumb over the angry red head to collect the wetness there. The groan he lets out is heavenly, but he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand from him.

“We don't have the time for that right now, darlin’,” he says, shoving them down the rest of the way and kicking them off to the side. He pushes your legs up and open by the underside of your knees, shuffling forward to fill the empty space, “Now you be a good girl and hold these legs open for me, an’ I'll be makin’ you scream in no time.”

He lets go of your trembling legs the second you reach for them, grabbing the base of his dick and rubbing the tip through your folds, left forearm resting on the ground next to your head. It catches on your fluttering hole with every pass, a tease that has you whining for more, rocking your hips as much as you can.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but has only been a few seconds, he slides into you, letting go of his dick to rest his arm on the other side of your head. The stretch is painful, and you instinctively clench around the intrusion. He doesn't stop, merely laughing at your wince as his hips settle against yours.

There's no grace period given. His hips are pulling back before you can adjust to his girth, drilling into you with a deep and brutal pace that has you wailing. You can feel the sharp sting of your nails from how hard you're clenching your thighs, the pain seeming to heighten your pleasure.

Johnny's grin is wide and full of teeth, you can feel it against your neck. Then he's digging his teeth into the flesh, abusing the bruised flesh. You can't feel it though, lost in the haze of his cock pounding into you. You feel the breath being knocked out of you with every thrust, eyes blurry with the onset of tears.

Your throat hurts from your wailing, pleas barely distinguish whenever you're able to attempt speaking. Johnny either doesn't understand you or doesn't care enough to figure it out, laughing at your babbling. When he pulls back you can see blood on his lips and teeth, and then you feel the sting of the bite he left on you.

Johnny presses his lips to yours as your face scrunched up in pain, the coppery taste of your blood lingering even after he pulls away. You chase the taste off your lips with your tongue, unable to follow his lips as he sits up.

“Fuck,” he drawls, the voice drawn out as he bottoms out in you, watching the way your hips twitch to try and get any sort of friction, “fuckin’ soaked through that pretty little skirt you got layers out under you, best pussy I've ever had.”

Then there's a large hand fisting the hair at the back of your head, yanking your head back. Your yelp of pain is drowned out by the obscene sounds coming from your pussy while Johnny uses you as if you were a toy. Pace bordering on brutal, you hold onto your sweat dampened thighs as he chases his high.

He licks and nibbles at the still bleeding wound on your neck, drinking from you as his thrusts shift you across the forest floor. The salt from your tears sting as it hits the bite marks that cover your neck, a loud moan following when the taste of salt hits Johnny's tongue.

Thrusts becoming erratic, your only warning is his teeth clamping down on the side of your neck before you feel the liquid heat of Johnny’s cum filling you in bursts, pushed deeper into you by tiny thrusts. It's only when he finally stills inside of you that you are able to breath, taking big gasps as you gather yourself.

“Mmm, what a good girl you are,” Johnny mumbles against your neck, pulling back to look you over. You probably look a mess, hair frizzy from the heat and being yanked on by Johnny. You're also covered in blood, though Johnny probably relishes in the fact that he put it there. It's when his gaze settles on where you're still connected that you feel your face heat in embarrassment.

As he pulls out you can't help the way you whimper, desperate for him to fill you back up despite how tender your abused sex feels. The trail of cum that follows is quickly stuffed back into you by two thick fingers, plugging you up with his cum.

Large hands slide under your ass, tacky with your arousal. Your hands fall away from your thighs in surprise as he lifts your lower body off the ground so that you're resting on your shoulders.

“Probably tastes even better mixed with me,” he mumbles more to himself than to you. As Johnny licks a long stripe up from your fluttering, dripping hole to your clit, you find yourself melting into the pleasure that he is giving you, no longer caring about what will become of you when he's had his fill.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter smut #johnny slaughter x reader #ꮺ. my work #Ꮺ. smut warning #Ꮺ. caution #tcm #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre game #texas chainsaw game #x reader #reader insert #reader interactive #female reader

[blondie20000]

Champion - Jack Grealish x Reader

Set after the UCL final.

Manchester City have won the Premier League.

Manchester City have won the FA Cup.

Manchester City have won the Champions League.

Manchester have completed the treble. They did it!

This event was historic not only have they become one of the clubs to complete the treble but also they have won the Champions League for the first time in the club's history.

It was an event that deserved to be celebrated.

When the final whistle went off Jack cried out with happiness. He collapsed on the ground and the tears flowed down his cheeks. His team mates came over and hugged him.

You felt your own tears fall as you watched Jack being interviewed shortly after.

"This is what I have worked for my whole life!" He said his voice cracking with emotion.

Once the interview was done you ran on to the pitch and went straight into Jack's arms. You hugged him, kissed him and congratulated him on the win. Jack couldn't speak instead he broke down in your arms and cried again. You rubbed his back and waited for him to get his emotions under control. Eventually Jack takes a deep breath and calms down.

"I can't believe we did it." He said with disbelief in his voice.

You brush his tears away with your thumb.

"I knew you would do it." You said with a nod. "I believed you I believed in all of you."

Jack presses his head against yours. You can feel his body trembling slightly against yours.

"God I..." Jack shakes his head. "I can't..."

"Shh."

You gently wrap your arm around him. You can see the tears forming in his eyes again. Jack is a sensitive soul, he gets emotional easily. You can still remember how nervous he was last night anxiously pacing up and down their room.

"What if I mess up? What if we lose cuz of me."

"Jack."

"I nearly cost us the FA Cup!"

You can still remember the look he gave you when he said that. The fear and guilt in his eyes was heartbreaking to look at. You assured him it wasn't his fault but Jack wouldn't let it go.

"If it wasn't for Gundo...Argh fuck!"

"Jack!"

You had be his rock last night. You had to give him the strength he so desperately needed.

Here now you had to be his rock again you knew in time Jack will break down again. You held on to him tight as you led him off the pitch. You took him somewhere private where he can compose himself and relax.

"I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "I must sound like a right wuss."

"Never." You kiss him on the cheek and run your fingers through his hair. "That's one thing you are not."

Jack blows out a sigh. He sits back and runs a hand down his face.

"Okay." He nods. "I think the water tank is empty now."

You laughed at that.

He brings his hand to your cheek and smiles.

"Thank you."

You smile back. Eventually you clear your throat.

"Shall we join the others?"

"Yeah we better they will wonder where we have gone."

"With you anything is possible." You chuckled.

"Hey I'm not that bad."

"Hmm." You tapped your chin and grinned.

Then laughter comes out of you as you run out of the room with Jack chasing you from behind.

.........

The Man City players all gathered around with their family and friends in the hotel to party all night long.

Jack stood on one of the tables with a beer in one hand and a microphone in the other.

"YOU'RE MY WONDER-WALL!" He sang loudly.

You chuckled. Jack was off key as usual. Despite singing terribly You enjoyed his performances. You loved the way his eyes lit up when the song came on, the way his smile grew as he reached the chorus and the way he threw his arms out as he hit the high notes the sight of it was both amusing and cute.

"Hey Y/N!" He reaches out towards You. "Come up here and sing with me."

You shook your head.

"I'm good."

Jack wouldn't let it go that easily. He leans forward slightly. He nearly fell of the table but Walker managed to grab him and pull him back up.

"Easy there mate." Walker said with amusement in his eyes.

"I wasn't going to fall." Jack waves his arms. "I had it all under control."

"Sure." Stones laughed as he sipped his beer.

"This one here is a menace." Haaland says as he gestures to your boyfriend.

"Ya think we are going to need some bodyguards for him. Make sure he stays out of trouble." Walker grinned.

"Well Haaland is tall enough." Stones nodded.

"And Walker is fast enough." Haaland grinned back.

"Ah sorry mate babysitting is not for me." Walker replied.

"I thought the job role was a bodyguard." You laughed.

"You did say that." Stones laughed along with you.

"They are the same." Walker argued.

"Hmm..." Everyone looked at each other. "...Na."

You and the footballers laughed. Meanwhile Jack carefully climbs off the table. He walks up to you with the microphone still in his hand.

"One song...Please?"

He gave you his best puppy eyes expression. You groaned. You could never say no to that face.

"Fine one song."

He smiles and takes your hand. Haaland helps you on the table. The song comes on. A cheesy song in fact. You again groaned but Jack happily puts his arm around you and begins to sing. You joined in with him. You both screamed when you reached the chorus. Everyone responded with a cheer and a clap as we finished the song.

Jack jumps off the table and opens his arms out to you.

"I won't let you fall." He promised you.

"I'll be here just in case." Stones joked as he joined his team mate.

You hesitated for a few moments. Then you said.

"Fuck it!"

You jump off the table. Jack catches you and spins you around. You squealed in delight as Jack went faster and faster. Seconds later he stops and gently puts you down. He then leans forward and kisses you on the lips.

That earned a few whistles from the players.

"Oi get a room you two!" Walker yelled.

You scoffed at that. Jack turns to his team mate and grins.

"I think I will."

...........

As soon as the door to your room was closed Jack immediately had his lips on yours. He kissed you passionately. The hunger he had for you all came pouring out into the kiss. You respond and kiss him back. Then you raise your hand and stop him.

"Wait." You gesture to his body. "Take off your shirt."

His lips tug upwards into a smirk.

"So we are playing that game huh?"

You smirked at him.

"It's a surprise."

He raises his eyebrow at that.

"Oh."

He removes his shirt.

"Now give it to me."

He tosses the shirt over to you.

"Wait here I'll just be a sec."

You go in the bathroom and close the door.

Jack sits on the bed and waits for you. A few minutes later you come out. When Jack's eyes go on you he gasps.

"You are wearing my shirt?"

You walk slowly over to him. You sway your hips in a seductive way.

"I am." You lean forward and whisper in his ear. "And I have nothing under it."

Jack held his breath as your words hit him.

"Now." You grin at him. "I want you to fuck me in the shirt you wore playing for your club the shirt you wore in the final. I want you to fuck me right here right now."

Something snapped in Jack then. He didn't need to be told twice.

You squealed as Jack grabs you by the waist and lies you down on the bed.

Shortly after Jack quickly removes the rest of his clothes and joins you on the bed. You open your legs out for him. A growl escapes Jack's throat as he eyes you up and down.

"Blue suits you." He says. He goes under the shirt and caresses your breasts. "Really really suits you."

"I know." You replied sounding smug.

Seconds later you gasp as Jack's tongue enters you. He licks you up and down. He sucks on your folds. His tongue rolls around your entrance all the way up to your thighs. He continued to do that until he reached the bottom of your belly.

"You taste so sweet." He kisses your belly button and smiles. "I can't get enough of it."

It wasn't long before Jack was back down there teasing you again.

"Fuck!" You cursed as he hit a sensitive spot.

That only encouraged him to push his tongue in even further. Each stroke sent a a jolt of electricity through you. You wanted to bring your legs in but Jack's board shoulders stopped you from doing that. So you bit your lip and shuddered as Jack fucked you with his tongue.

His wet tongue brushing against your warm sweaty skin made you groan and you found yourself begging for more.

"Argh Jack!"

But Jack declined your request. He removes his tongue and goes back on top of you again. You whimpered at the loss of contact.

"Now." He said his voice stern. "Turn over."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Turn over?"

"I want to see my name."

His eyes are darken and his hands are clenched tight. You saw sweat already starting to form on his brow. Right now Jack looked like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. You thought that was so fucking hot.

"Sure sweetie." You teased him.

You grin as you roll on to your back. Jack caresses your bum and your thighs. He teased your entrance as he kissed your neck. You then felt his fingers trailing along the letters on the back of the shirt.

"You know what this says?" He asks.

"I do." You answered.

"What does it say?"

"Grealish."

Jack presses himself against you.

"And what's my name?" He asked his voice husky.

"Jack Grealish."

"And what am I?" He asked his accent becoming more board and heavy. You almost lost control by it.

"Y/N?"

"A champion! " You said with a sharp intake of breath. "You are a champion! "

You can feel the smirk growing on his face.

"You are right I am a champion. Hearing those words from you... that sounded so fucking good!"

You can feel his dick pressing up against your ass now. He is hard.

You smirked at that.

"Say it again." He ordered.

"A champion."

He growled at that. The growl sent a wave of goosebumps through you.

Damm!

"You know what this champion is going to do? This champion is going to fuck you until you wouldn't be able to stand."

You tensed up at that. The feeling of excitement started to rise inside you.

Suddenly you gasp as he goes inside you. He completely stretched you and touched places you didn't even know existed from this angle.

"Good babe good." Jack nodded as he went further inside you.

At first Jack started off slow. Eventually he picks up the pace and starts to thrust you hard.

You grip the sheets as each thrust hits you. A series of curses come spilling from your lips. At one point you buried your head into the pillow to stop yourself from screaming but Jack wouldn't have that Jack wanted to hear those sounds from you.

"Nah uh." He shakes his head. "I want to hear you love I want to hear you scream my name."

Jack grabs you by the ponytail and lifts your head up. His hold is tight but it wasn't uncomfortable. He kisses your neck again and around your ear. His lips on your skin made you moan with pleasure. You strain your neck to give him better access.

"You like that?" He breathed in your ear.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes Jack."

"Jack what?" He is smiling against your cheek. You roll your eyes and laugh.

"Jack...The champion. "

His smile turns into a cocky grin. He grabs on to your waist tight which you are sure is going to leave bruises later and he goes faster.

"JACK!" You screamed his name out loud.

"That's it love." His grin widens. "Just like that."

You increase your hold on the sheets. You held them so tight your knuckles started to turn white.

You can feel that familiar fire at the bottom of your belly. You knew you are close.

"J...Jack." You said through clenched teeth. "I need to...I need to...AHHHH!"

Your cry made him moan.

"Fuck Y\N!"

Hearing that from him made you shake. You are going to have it let it out soon you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Please." You begged him.

He strokes your back where the letters were and said.

"Go on babe."

You didn't need to be told twice. You cry out as you let it all out. Shortly after Jack followed. He then slumps against you and takes a shaky breath.

"Fuck." He muttered into your back.

Once Jack moves away you sigh and turn on to your side. Your legs are still trembling. Jack comes towards you and wraps you in his arms. You breathe in his scent and find yourself relaxing in his arms.

"That was amazing." Jack smiles at you. "Thanks for the idea Y\N."

You smile back at him.

"No problem...Hey Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"You know I'm proud of you right?"

He lifts his head to look at you.

"I know." He whispered.

Your smile widens.

"I will always be proud of you. My champion."

He grins at that.

"I am never going to get bored of that."

You laugh.

"I know."

He kisses your lips. His eyes shone with love.

"I love you Y/N."

You kiss him back.

"And I love you too Jack Grealish..."

You grin.

"...The champion."

The End

#jack grealish smut #jack x reader #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish #reader insert #reader #reader interactive #manchester city #champions league #premier league #fa cup final #fanfiction #one shot #fanfic #smut #football fanfic #football #love #john stones #erling haaland #kyle walker

[knightprincess]

Softness Suits You (Tech x GN! Reader)

Words: 2k Warnings: None - unless you count Kriff and Karabast as swearing. Note: Gender Neutral - Use of You and (Y/N) A part of the Bad Batch Gift Exchange @cloneficgiftexchange For: @theunderscorekinginyellow Prompt: "Softness Suits You"

“(Y/N),” called Tech, skidding to a halt as he rounded the corner. Blaster fire passed the corner mere seconds later. “Now is not the time to give up on me,” he commented, pulling you back to your feet. You’d slipped down the durasteel wall you’d been learning against with a sharp groan of pain, an arm tightly wound around your midsection, the other putting pressure on another unseen wound hidden beneath your armor and the layers of fabric. 

“Wasn’t the time for the plan to go wrong either,” (Y/N) voiced, recalling how the mission had gone sideways quickly. “We went over the plan five times,” you grumbled, blowing out an agonized sigh as the stabbing pain grew in strength. 

“I got the package, didn’t I?” responded Wrecker, the sound of blaster fire being exchanged echoing through the com. 

“Anyone injured?” came Hunter’s smokey voice. Omega’s innocent one followed, celebrating after hitting another target with her energy bow. Echo soon confirmed he and Wrecker were slightly banged up, but nothing serious. Their main problem was being pinned down. 

“(Y/N) got hit, unsure how serious it is,” announced Tech, seemingly ignoring your comment that you were okay. Even when it was evidently obvious you were anything but. You were losing blood, feeling dizzy and shaky, and could barely stand on your own two feet, and Tech had stated you looked paler than usual. 

“Tech, get (Y/N) back to the Marauder,” demanded Echo, his voice severe and unyielding. The job for Sid meant little compared to the life of a friend. 

“Omega will meet you there,” said Hunter. The young clone’s protests shortly followed his words. “That’s an order,” he added, slipping into a mix of his previous Sargent Mode and that of a protective father figure trying to protect their child and family. “The rest of us Plan 13.” 

“Oh yeah,” exclaimed Wrecker, launching into the attack on droids and mercenaries alike. The human wrecking ball wasted little time running head-first into the battle again. His actions a reminder of his days as a soldier of the GAR, back when everything was simpler before the dark times began to strangle the galaxy. 

“Oh brother,” mutters Echo before readying himself to rejoin the battle before him. Pushing aside the memories of the many food fights on Kamino before it was bombarded and forgotten about—memories of his brothers of the Domino Squad, 501st, and Bad Batch. 

“Ready?” asked Tech, placing his D17s in the holsters for the time being, reaching for your arm to pull you back to your feet. Directing the arm around his neck as his own snaked around your midsection. Hearing the sharpness in your breath as you began to limp forward. The pilot soon pulled the yellow-tinted screen of his helmet down, scanning you over to get a clear idea of the damage and injuries sustained.

“What’s the prognosis, Doctor?” sarcastically asked (Y/N), your eyes glazing over as you become confused and disorientated. “Is it as bad as Crosshair’s friction burns from the Skako mission?” you asked with a light chuckle, wincing shortly after with the pain shooting through your ribs. 

“I would argue that was worse,” answered Tech, recalling Crosshair grumbling for days afterward—even more so when Wrecker refused to let him forget about it. “However, this is a close second,” he said, trying to keep your spirits up and offer a distraction from your injuries and dire state. 

“Damn. I was hoping to top him this time,” replied (Y/N), as if you had forgotten Crosshair wasn’t there. Instead, he had chosen to return to the Empire, even after they had bombarded Tipoca City with all of them inside. “Still working on that plan to get him back,” you add with the smallest of grins. 

“Crosshair … chose a different path. We have to accept that, even if we don’t agree with it,” spoke Tech with a prang of sadness. Thankful when the Marauder came into view, Omega was already on the steps, waving at them with a small smile of her own. At least until it hit her, Tech was all but keeping you up now. 

“What happened?” questioned Omega, quickly running back up the steps, moving to get the medical kit stowed away aboard the ship. At the same time, Tech pulled (Y/N) over to the sleeping racks upon getting you aboard. Nodding to Omega in thanks, when she brought the medical kit over to him, he reached for stem cells and bacta gel in hopes of aiding the healing process. 

“We could use a lift,” came the booming voice of Echo, the coms lighting up with the disagreement between the Arc Trooper, Hunter, and Wrecker. 

“That with or without Omega hanging from the ship and me falling out or over something?” asked (Y/N), doing your best to lighten the dreary mood and keep Omega from seeing just how bad things were. You had a soft spot for the kid and the boys. 

“It was an unscheduled study break,” Tech voiced in response. At least explaining Omega hanging from the ship. A smirk appeared across his lips upon remembering the two separate incidences regarding (Y/N) falling over something and falling from the ship completely. “And momentarily lapse in coordination.” 

“Just patching (Y/N) up, then we’ll be there,” announced Omega, keeping the trio of Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker in the loop. 

“This is going to hurt,” stated Tech, receiving a (Y/N) famous deadpan look in response. At least informing him, he was pointing out the obvious again, without calling the exceptionally minded clone by the normal nickname. Captain Obvious. 

“You mean more than it already does?” You asked, the next part of your comment forgotten as the bacta gel burned like someone had poured the lavas of Mustafar into your open wounds. “Kriff!” 

“Language” worded Wrecker via the comm link. 

“Aurebesh,” you replied, much to Omega’s amusement. Tech could only shake his head and roll his golden eyes. 

“Switch out the words, (Y/N),” spoke Hunter, once again the familiar sound of blaster fire following his words, hinting at the trouble the trio was in now. 

“Yes, Papa Hunter. Next time, I’ll use Karabast,” quickly shot (Y/N), not noticing Tech had stepped close with an anesthetic, at least not until he caught you with it. 

“Rest for now (Y/N). Omega and I can handle the extraction,” announced Tech. He made sure you were lying comfortably on his rack before heading to the cockpit with Omega. The young clone gave Gonky his own mission to watch over you while you slept. 

When (Y/N) finally woke up, the Marauder was on stable ground, and the ship was quiet—too quiet. The only noise was Gonky waddling the length of the ship with the normal “Gonk” on repeat, although the droid did seem to be pestering Tech, who sat at the communications desk just in front of the sleeping racks. 

“Where’s the others?” you asked with a cracked and broken voice. Your throat was dry and scratchy from the lack of use. Slowly, you moved your head to look around the ship. The cockpit was empty, void of Echo and Wrecker. The rear gunner's port had no Omega resting there, although Lula and her little clone trooper were. Hunter was nowhere to be seen either. Only Tech and Gonky were there. 

“Wrecker and Omega are following through with their tradition,” Tech replied, standing and walking over, an unreadable expression painted on his features. The moment he reached you, he placed a soft hand on your forehead, relief washing over him minutes later. "Hunter and Echo are delivering the package to Sid.” 

“How long was I out?” you asked. Then it hit you: You were no longer on Eadu but instead back on Ord Monell. 

“Just over a day,” started Tech, helping you sit up. “I’d appreciate it if we didn’t repeat what happened,” he added, pushing his goggles back up the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not gonna let you get shot, Tech, and I did tell you to leave me,” argued (Y/N), feeling relief now the majority of your pain was gone, either nulled by the anesthetic or washed away by the bacta healing the wounds. 

“We don’t leave our own behind,” stated Tech, a matter of factly, with a pointer finger raised, as if to drill it into your head and make it stick. “The others are fine as well. Wrecker still thinks the scans are invisible spiders,” he added, allowing his stiffness to melt a little upon hearing your small ring of laughter. 

“Hunter and Echo still the parents?” (Y/N) asked, side-eyeing and suspicious, just in case something had changed while you were out for the count. 

“Careful (Y/N), your softer side is showing,” joked Tech. “Either that, or you hit your head harder than I thought.” 

“Or I’m high as a kite and hallucinating,” you commented. 

“Not lost your sense of humor, " Echo said upon boarding the ship. A scratch now donning his cheek below the left eye. However, the worry plaguing him now seemed to melt away. 

“Mustafar would freeze over before that happened,” (Y/N) replied with a small smile, “Or Hoth would warm up.” You quietened for a few minutes before it hit you: Tech had said your soft side was showing. Didn’t it always when you were around your found family? “Wait, what you mean my softer side is showing?” you questioned, hearing Echo chuckle as he held his hands up in surrender before walking off to the cockpit. 

“I don’t mean to offend you,” started Tech, suddenly uncomfortable, even more so when his hopes of you missing his words were dashed. “Normally, when out in the field or around Sid, you appear like Crosshair, stoic, cold, and armed with snide comments for enemies and sarcastic ones to lighten the mood,” he rambled, hoping to explain away what he now saw as a blunder. 

“Tech,” you softly call, a sweet grin appearing now as you made it apparent you weren’t offended by the comment, merely curious. 

“I thought it was obvious. Softness suits you,” directed Tech, 

“Will you two make it official already?” voiced Wrecker as he and Omega returned to the ship. Hunter followed along behind, slightly confused by the comment but smirking nonetheless. 

“Way to ruin the mood, Wrecker,” (Y/N) replied. “I’m recruiting Omega to help terrorize you the next time you go speed dating.” 

“That was one time.” 

“Wrecker went speeding dating?” questioned Echo 

“Yup, It’s right up there with Hunter and Crosshair waking up handcuffed in a fountain,” you reply, hearing Omega laughing, 

“I hate your memory right now,” commented Hunter, his cheeks redding as he sat down at his normal spot. 

“Please do tell me more,” commented Echo, knowing he and Fives got up to some crazy things, along with Kix, Hardcase, and Jesse, things he often got a chuckle out of when he allowed himself to remember them. However, he wanted to know more about what the rest of the batch got up to during the war. 

“No! I’m gonna die of embarrassment,” replied Wrecker, recalling the speeding dating disaster. Their first shore leave after joining the war effort. (Y/N) as their Jedi had told them to have fun, not expecting to get a call from Fox informing you, your squad was spending the night in detention. 

“Wasn’t that bad” replied Tech, trying to soothe the situation. Although he’d admit you laughing from behind him wasn’t helping. 

“I want to hear about it,” Omega called, her sweet, innocent voice seemingly breaking through. Hunter and Wrecker shared a glance, knowing (Y/N) couldn’t deny the young clone anything, although, thankfully, you told the stories in a child-friendly way. 

“Was that the one I have no memory of?” asked Tech, recalling they’d gotten up to a lot of mischief. He’d personally set off a few security breaches from hacking sensitive information. Wrecker had set so many alarms off with his explosives that the Coruscant Guard had come to expect it and, at points, used it as a training exercise. Hunter and Crosshair found themselves in contests with different goals. Meanwhile, (Y/N) collectively named everything the Lame Game. 

“Yup,” replied (Y/N), popping the p. “Never did find out how you ended up black-out drunk under the booth table. Or why you were wearing Wolffe’s helmet?” You laughed. 

“Tech’s right; Softness does suit you,” replied Hunter, the smallest of grins appearing across his lips as he got comfortable, ready to relive the embarrassing moments of the past. “You’re still the best storyteller, though.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

#bad batch gift exchange #star wars #star wars fanfictions #star wars fic #star wars oneshot #reader insert #the bad batch #reader interactive #x reader #x you #fluff #hurt #comfort #soft tech #tech bad batch #omega bad batch #hunter bad batch #wrecker bad batch #echo bad batch #gender neutral reader #tech x gn reader #tech x reader #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on deviantart #cross posted on inkitt #cross posted on quotev #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on neobook #cross posted on novlr

[lacunafiction]

Would Mal say yes if the MC proposed to them 👀

A most intriguing question, Anon. 👀

_ _ _

Before you can even take out the ring box, get down on one knee, or shift closer to Mal for a romantic handhold, they're smiling a little more widely at you. There is more tenderness beneath that ineffable knowing quality that you've grown to accept. It's enough to make you pause, blinking for a second when they take out their own ring box—no, wait, that's yours. Your hand flies to your pocket, patting its newfound emptiness while you balk at your mysteriously hot beloved.

"I know we'll be together forever," Mal confidently concludes. "But you're welcome to put a ring on it if I can leave my own claim on you."

You're still a little stunned by this turn of events; however, Mal's hand finds yours to create an unyielding yet certain hold. They won't let go.

They won't let you go.

(To read Mal's full response, go: here. It's public on my Patreon. 🌲)

Book One Launch Post💚 | TFS Patreon🌲

New TFS Patreon benefits, including spicy stories 🔥, monthly alpha content drops ✨, and more! Please check it out: here. If you enjoyed your time in Fernweh, please consider reviewing/rating it. 🥰

We're into RO excursions (date branches)! 👀

#interactive fiction #romance games #reader interactive #reader insert #fernweh saga #who do queue think you are? #asks #tfs mal #the waitress #the waiter

[ginsakatoki]

Heeeey, welcome to DMC fandom! Can I request general relationship headcanons for DMC boys? Just some fluffy stuff, like what kind of dates they are into, what kind of partner each of them are, into PDA or not, etc. But it's all up to you :)

Thanks in advance!

Hey there! I’ve actually been lurking in the fandom for a couple of years and only recently decided to write about it. Thank you for this request and enjoy!

gif by @rainbow-cadenza

• I mentioned in a previous headcanon of mine that despite his loud personality, Dante is actually a shy lover. By this I mean: at first Dante will take quite a long time to acknowledge and address his feelings and even more to actually ask you out. You’ll need to be patient with him because he’ll shamelessly flirt as a joke but get flustered if you flirt back. Or expect you to understand that if he is standing next you in a specific way, he’s flirting for real and not joking.

Expert at not taking the hint. He’s used to people and things wanting to kill him so there is no way you’re interested in him that way, right?

He’s a weird unblended mix of an experienced womanizer and a teenager that has no idea what he’s doing.

It will be awkward at first not gonna lie.

When you manage to become a couple though, it becomes much much easier. All of a sudden all those weird moments and interactions vanish and the relationship starts flowing like you’ve always been by each other’s side.

Dante would want to go out on a date at least once or twice a week. He’s one of those guys that pretend not to want to be around their S/O all the time, but actually do. (He acts like a sad puppy when he doesn’t).

That said, due to his lack of money, he would prefer simple dates over anything else. A walk in the park, window shopping or cheap dates like cinema and bowling. 

He’s a sucker for mundane things. His life is full of adrenaline rushes and violence so he truly cherishes the few moments of daily life he gets. This, however, doesn’t mean he’ll just settle for calm activities. He would definetely drag you to an amusement park at least once to go on rollercoasters.

If you don’t handle scary stuff well, be ready because he’ll force you to go to haunted houses or watch horror movies just so you can cling to him and tease you about it.

He’s a really fun partner to be with and he feels more like a friend you can go on adventures with than a safe home to return to. 

He’s very protective of his loved ones so if you were ever in a pinch, he would come help you out any way he can. He’s not very book smart though, so you might not want him to help you with your studies.

His love language is physical touch so he loves, and i mean, loves PDA. He doesn’t care if other people are staring, let them be. If he wants to kiss you, he will. If he wants a hug, he’ll get it. No questions asked.

When walking in public he always has his arm around your shoulders, hips or holding your hands. He wants to feel you by his side, especially since he never knows whether it might be your last.

When holding hands, he runs small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It feels very intimate to him.

He adores kisses. Mouth, forehead, cheeks, neck, hands, wherever. He loves it.

Speaking of kisses, he is very intense when he kisses you. His lips will blend on yours stealing your breath away and he’s greedy, so he’ll always ask for more.

"Just one more… No no that didn’t count, one more"

Cuddles on the sofa are a must. He is a literal human heater so he’ll gladly warm you up in winter.

If you tend to have cold hands or feet he will warm them up for you but you have to warn him first.

That one time you put your cold feet on his legs without telling him first he literally screamed.

gif by @CAPCOM

Vergil is a cold and diffident man. It will take him a long time to trust you and if he develops feelings for you, he’ll be in denial for the longest time. When he accepts his feelings, however, he won’t act on them and would consequently become grumpier with everyone. There would be a huge contradiction between what he feels and his behavior.

He might look at you like he wants to kill you and be thinking that you look very pretty with the clothes you’re wearing, for example.

His inner struggle wouldn’t really be caused by a disgust for feelings rather his intrusive thoughts take control  and start sabotaging him. For example he might believe that no one would ever love him so he isn’t allowed to love anyone. Or that he doesn’t deserve happiness because of all the pain he’s inflicted on others.

He would start ignoring you and crave your presence. If he saw you at Devil May Cry, he would go the other way but stay close enough to be able to see you.

Things would change if you asked him if he hates you. It is obvious to him that the answer is no and that his behavior is clearly misguiding you so he would try to be around you more.

Communication about feelings with Vergil is complicated so it seems unlikely that he’d confess them and get into a relationship. It’s more likely for you two to slowly get closer to each other until you both realize you’ve been acting like a couple without explicitly saying so. 

It starts with Vergil always be around for one reason or the other.

“That seems heavy, I’ll take it for you.”

“I just had a commission nearby, that’s all.”

“Didn’t know you would be here” “Vergil… I work here”.

He gets so flustered it’s cute. He turns away immediately though, so you never truly see him blush.

Like Dante, he likes mundane life so he loves walking around the city with you, going to theatres and museums and, obviously, visiting libraries and bookshops. 

He doesn’t speak much but he listens to everything you say and remembers every little thing. There’s a book you mentioned you like? He reads it and tells you his opinion. There’s an event you keep forgetting about? He reminds you of it, and so on.

His love language is complicated to pinpoint. I’m pretty sure he loves physical touch but, being the touch starved man he is, too much of it would make him short circuit. Same with words of affirmations. He grew up surrounded by hate so loving words are new to him, they would make him feel vulnerable and he hates that. 

It would take a lot of trust and time but he would learn to love cuddle time on the sofa or on the bed. He would even find comfort in laying on you and hearing your heartbeat.

Vergil as a partner would show his vulnerability to you and you only once he truly trusts you as in: he will allow himself to cry in your presence, but don’t expect him to allow you to see him cry. He will hide his face on your shoulder or keep his back turned on you. 

Besides his hurtful past and his feelings, Vergil worships you. You see in his eyes how much he cares for you, suddenly his grey eyes don’t seem so cold anymore. His touches are very light and delicate like he’s afraid to hurt you. 

Not his kisses. He usually has a lot of self control around you, but when he kisses you it all vanishes. They’re deep and passionate, like he’s trying to merge his soul to yours, and will hold you impossibly close. Because they’re so intense, kisses with Vergil aren’t that common and they definitely don’t happen in public.

PDA is a big no for Vergil. What’s between you two is no concern for other people and, as such, it must stay indoors. He will allow you to hold his hand or circle your arm around his but he won’t initiate.

Overall Vergil is a man you’ll need a lot of patience with but he will make sure you feel as loved as he feels.

gif by @BlinchixOfRivia (Tenor)

Out of the three Nero is the most normal when it comes to relationships. If he’s interested he will show it, spend time with you and ask you out on a date. He’s pretty straightforward and honest so you really won’t have problems understanding if he likes you or not. 

He’s had experience in relationships before with his ex-girlfriend Kyrie (they’re still on good terms) so he knows how to act around a lover and is not the least worried about his feelings.

Despite acting and looking like a punk, Nero has a clean and mostly sorted out inner world. He has his good amount of issues, obviously,  but at least he isn’t as emotionally constipated as his father and uncle.

When in love, Nero smiles and laughs much more than usual which makes his interest pretty obvious. 

He has a specific tone he only uses with his S/O and I think that’s beautiful. It’s not really a puppy or lovesick one but his normally gruff voice becomes gentler and his words soft-spoken.

Nero would most likely enjoy going on interactive dates like cinema, concerts, skating or paintball.

Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT go to watch horror movies with this man. He might be a devil hunter but he’s terrified of ghosts. He will scream the girliest scream you’ll ever hear and tell everyone it was you. 

Dates with Nero are pretty frequent and spontaneous, but he’d like to go on a fancy date either once every two weeks or once a month. He likes eating good food and wants to spoil his partner.

During normal dates he probably takes the two of you to eat at Taco Bell or something.

He’s not exactly romantic or one for cliches so you’ll never see him serenade you or buy you flowers, but he’ll always show he cares in his way. For example he will always bring you a snack at work or help you clean your apartment.

His love languages are acts of service and quality time. He isn’t the best with words and physical touch is pretty neutral to him.

He doesn’t mind PDA, he’ll honestly go with the flow. If you like PDA he will drap an arm around your shoulders, hold you close to him and occasionally kiss your forehead. If you don’t, he’ll just hold your hand or pinky finger.

Inside jokes. A lot of inside jokes. People might say something about shoes and you’d start laughing for apparently no reason after throwing a look at each other.

He gives the best hugs, whenever you’re sad or not feeling well he just grabs you and hugs the problem away. You’re actually surprised by how well it seems to work everytime.

Being in a relationship with Nero means having Nico tease you all day, all week. They’re a 2 for 1 deal. You might be casually speaking or joking that she would come out from nowhere and tell you to go get a room.

Arguments with Nero happen pretty often because he has a short temper. However you found a nice way to end them quickly: pillow fights. Whenever you see that you’re having a disagreement you both grab a pillow and start hitting the other while stating out one of the reasons you are right. The one who wins the pillow fight, wins the argument.

Obviously, if it’s about an important matter, you’ll be responsible and talk it out as calmly as possible.

Some people see your relationship as childlike or teenage-like but it’s really healthy and it works for you, plus they don’t know how serious both of you can be about it.

Kisses with Nero are always surrounded by giggles, for some reason. You have so much fun with each other that even kisses can’t seem to be serious.

One of your favorite activities together is playing videogames. You once showed him Mario Kart and now he’s obsessed. Every Sunday you must have a Mario Kart tournament or he will get grumpy. 

You’re the only person he doesn’t mind losing to.

Thank you for reading this, let me know what you think about it! I ended up writing a lot about this lol.

#Gin writes #devil may cry #dmc #nero sparda #dante sparda #dmc5 #vergil sparda #vergil dmc #vergil x reader #nero x reader #dante x reader #anon request #requests are open #reader insert #reader interactive #reader request #answered #Gin answers #headcanon #dmc imagines #dmc fandom #dmc x reader #dmc headcanons

[themotherofblood]

Feel a little More

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Tears of Gold AU

A/N: Imagine Dany’s dress when she was presented to Drogo but in red, and instead of metal dragon pins they are golden lions.

tw: hands tied, manhandling, breeding kink, slight condescending Tywin but in a sexy way. overstim!!! cockwarming.

Ps. Aftercare scenes are a must for me!!

The hour of the owl held a certain anticipation, warmth and content in your heart. It brought you hours of unfiltered and honest moments of your marriage, whether it be a conversation, an argument or the pleasures of the flesh. These four walls were sacred to you, they protected you. That was the complexity of your union, to be in a loveless or unaffectionate marriage was one thing, being in marriage of intertwined souls was another. But the relentless mirage making that came with what you and your husband had was tiresome at best. To the rest of the world, your marriage was respected, Tywin protected you and you bore him heirs; that was it.

In the shadow of these walls however, your fear and yearning for one another ran wild, though Tywin was better at managing it, yours was in the testament of your duties as a wife. Here you sat in a yet another dress, sheer to the skin that clung to your body. A soft material against your goosebumped skin, and the cool metal of the lion pins against your shoulders. The sheer red material, exposed parts of you. Just enough to make a man want the rest of you but not quite give him the full gist of it. It was different than a trousseau, or perhaps a laced corset. More Essoi, in the fashion of seduction but you’d been rather open minded to most things that occurred in the bedroom.

You’d laid with your husband more times than you had fingers to count on, you’d birthed his children and he watched the blood flow from your core as his heir graced the world. Though every time his eyes raked down your body, a certain nervousness filled your senses. Like a lion anointing it’s prey before making the kill, it was silent and masterful. Just the way your husband loves you, a respectful and practical way. While you had been the nick of a dramatic lover beforehand, demanding of stars and dragons, his love towards you taught you to love better. To love within reason, and that love is stronger. It reminds you, each passing day that it could all wash away within a blink of an eye. Which made you desperate to love him harder, and to not mask any of your hearts wanton desires.

The handmaidens that dressed you took their leave, they were quite quick with it, changing you and getting your hair undone. Preparing you for your husband. You had moved around the room thrice, first you had picked the seating by the hearth, the second time- your bed and the third was the varenda. Long before circling back to the bedroom, you waited as your senses were shot to shit. You’d heard him coming before you saw him, his crafted boots crooned at the corridor of the tower before the door to your room creaked open. Your eyes met the green of your husband’s. Who still sported that same irked frown from earlier but one corner of his lip curled from seeing the ensemble you were in

You stood in the middle of the room, picking on your cuticles and fighting the urge to look at the floor. You weren’t sure where to put your hands, and nearly cursed your handmaiden for not talking about how stupid one might feel trying to be seductive. You stalked over to your husband, reaching your hand out to curl on the collar of the coat, pulling him further into the room. You knew he was still a bit bothered about you dancing with the lords that offered their hands, and you were only wondering what surprises awaited the sack.

His rough hands trailed down your body, feeling the sheer soft material against your skin, his hands coming to stop at the round of your bosom as his thumb ran over the now hardening nipple, his eyes fixated on how the cloth accentuated your figure, a soft hum left his body as his eyes trailed back up to yours. His eyes darted between yours, an emotion filled them that you couldn’t decipher but you knew your dress had an effect on him. He scoffed moving away from you and walking to the serving cart, picking up a cup and filling it with wine, bringing it to his lips as he turned to you. His chest rose and fell as his breath heightened, he scoffed again before closing his eyes and shaking his head. It made you a little nervous, not being able to understand what he was thinking about.

“You should go to bed.” Tywin finally spoke up, making your heart drop, did he not like your dress. Your brows furrowed as the gentle excitement in your face dimmed. Tywin still looked at you ravenous

“You should come with me then.” You threw back, he wasn’t just going to forfeit from this battle, he dragged this out for so long, only to deny you? You felt a little angry, you were frustrated and you were frustrated with lust. Your fingers reached to the gold pins on your shoulder, letting the dress come loose. Your thumb went under the straps to let the dress fall, in one swift push the dress pooled around your feet; leaving you naked in front of Tywin.

You body glistened in the light of the candles, the oils from earlier leaving your skin plump. You weren’t as talented in the art of pleasures and you were no whore, but your stood there naked, hands rested flat on your thighs. Your breathing a little heavier from the adrenaline rushing through you body. Tywin stood tall, leaning against the table, his hand clutching the edge and the other held the wine cup. His eyes shamelessly gave your body a once over as they slowly went down your body and back up to you eyes. He slammed the cup down on the table.

“Why do you find amusement in disobeying me?” He said as he closed the gap between the two of you in three long strides.

“You wanted a bride with more than half a brain.” You shrugged nervously smirking at him.

His pushed forward as your feet stood its ground, his hand came up to hold your jaw harshly, his nostril flared as his eyes raged on silently. You were a thorn to his side, and the more days the two of you remained married, your claws only seemed to have gotten sharper. Your husband however was well versed in how to tame you, how to make you obey. Though he quite enjoyed this rebellious and confident side of you, he preferred you on your knees for him.

“You truly want to toy with me, tonight. Hmm?” His head gently tilled to its side, his feet taking him forwards as your followed backwards. The grip on your jaw hardening. “Have your words lost you Lady Lannister?”

“Put my head on a spike, because yes husband.” You whispered back fluttering your eyelashes at him “I quite enjoy toying with you.” You gave him a smirk as best your could with your cheeks squished between his fingers. Were you poking a lion with a stick? You absolutely were, but there is just a sinful thrill to the things your husband does to you. It’s more like a prayer than a taunt, it’s begging for pleasure at his mercy.

“All those lords tonight, my wife.” He whispered as his lips grazed down your neck, his cool finger tips tracing down your spine making your flinch just a little. “Those pious, young and boneheaded boys.” He tutted slapping your hands away from his chest, the back of your thighs felt the edge of your bed. “Everyone one of them wanted you, I should know, I was their age at one point.” He let go of you jaw, reaching to undo his cuffs. You weren’t done toying with him though.

“Does that mean that your were boneheaded once, lord husband.” You bit your inner cheek to stop yourself from smiling, the thrill of teasing your husband made your stomach flip.

Tywin eyes menacingly raised to yours, his fingers still work on undoing his clothes, one brow quirked up as the green in his eyes appeared darker. “Do you think I’d be in my position if I was bone headed?” The look in his eyes made your confidence shrink, you gulped as your eyes stayed on him.

He pushed your body down to sit on the bed, you obliged and lowered down, the soft furs tickled against your bare legs. His hands reached to unbuckle the belt that held his coat together, letting it come loose and bending it in his hands. His other hand came right under your chin, his demeanour completely shifting as he gently tilted your head back to make you look at him.

“The second you feel discomfort, please tell me to stop. Is that understood?” Tywin’s voice ordered you in a softer tone as his thumb stroked your cheek. You nodded but that made him hold onto your face harder “Words, wife.”

“I understand.” You nodded again with your reply.

He held your hands up, looping the cool leather around your wrists, tightening them enough for you to not break free, his fingers lingered a moment as they held your tied fists in them his fingers caressing your hands as if to assure you that you were perfectly safe.

“Kneel for me, Y/N” His voice laced with lust as he ordered you.

You pushed yourself of the bed and onto your knees, the rug under you protecting your knees from being hurt. You looked up at him on your knees waiting his next command as your tied hands rested on your lap. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty knelt before him, your hair, your glistening skin and that pretty face with the sweetest eyes looking up at him. Your chest rising and falling as your breath quickened, your husband caressing your face as he looked down upon you, his fingers trailing from your cheek to your hair before flattening his hand you head to stroke it.

His other hand undid his pants and breeches, your hands instinctively coming up to tug them down his long legs, his cock sprung free of its clothed restrains, Tywin’s thumb grazed your bottom lip before tapping it, indicating you to open your mouth. As a good lady wife, you did as he said. Keeping your tongue flat and opening you mouth for him; all the while your gaze was fixated on him. His placed the tip of his cock on your tongue, on cue your lips wrapped around the red tip, suckling it in your mouth. The gentle weight of his length against your tongue as your mouth worked on him, he pushed his hips forward slowly until he felt himself touch the back of your mouth.

Not wanting to overwhelm you, he retreated out before pushing back in again. A hum rumbled through his chest in pleasure as the warmth of your mouth caressed his cock. His hips rolling into you mouth and back out, even in pleasure Tywin’s eyes watched you for any discomfort or hesitation while you sat there with you hands in your lap, letting your husband fuck you mouth. He gently picked his pace up, making you gag on his cock. The corners of your eyes tearing up from the strain of it before gagging again, making Tywin groan in ecstasy. He held you head there for moment as you focused your breathing through your nose, gagging shouldn’t feel good but with each thrust, your pussy pooled. You coughed as your head was pulled back, Tywin giving you just a second to breathe properly before going on to fuck your mouth again.

You mouth was covered in saliva as your husband’s assault to your mouth persisted, his hands had tightened their grip on your hair as he guided your head to meet him halfway through his trusts, gagging and choking on his cock.

“That’s it my girl, choke for me.” His breath hitched as he once more he held your head as his cock found itself deep in your throat. Your eyes watered even more as you gagged on his cock, you dug your fingernails into your palm to calm the panic coursing through your body while focusing on breathing through your nose. You were oddly enjoying your husband using you like this.

His pulled himself back, a trail of saliva from your mouth to his length connected as he gave you a moment to breathe and collect yourself. He watched you for any indication of discomfort but your eyes were flared in lust just like him. Once you cleared your throat and could breathe properly again, you looked up at him a smiled. With that he yanked you by your arms, your bobbly legs stood it ground but the speed of it all making your squeal as he turned your around and pushed your body onto the bed. Your marriage bed was tall enough for you to bend over and still have your feet on the ground. Tywin’s hand smacked the flesh on your back before groping it with both hands.

You could feel him lower down to his knees as he pressed a kiss to your ass, your pretty wet pussy presented to him like a meal on a platter, he used his finger to spread your outer lips open, hoisting one leg on the bed to give him more ground to work on. His fingertips grazed the sides of your cunt, teasing you and denying you from touching your most needy spot. Your hands laid under you, useless as your writhed in anticipation. You felt the tip of his nose nudge your clit before his tongue flattened on your folds, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole and repeating that few times. His tongue worked its magic on you as moans and whimpers began to slip past your lips.

“All mine.” He boasted as he ate your cunt, making your head fall in shame.

His thumbs pushed your lips further apart, making your clit grace the world bare. His tongue gently flicked the bare bud making your squirm and yelp out. Earning you a sharp slap on your ass by your husband. “Move any longer and you will go to bed right now.” He warned you before diving back into his assault. He loved paying attention to your sensitive nub, how it reddened and peaked through the hood in excitement making your sing the sweetest songs for him, it pushed your highs, brazen and crazed with pleasure. He took the flesh in his mouth to suckle on it, making you cry out. You were getting pushed to the edge the more he played with that part of you, his beard leaving the sweetest burns on your inner thighs as he devoured you.

You could feel yourself push right over the edge, and your wanton moans made Tywin aware too.

“Let go for me, my love.” He sat back on his knees to admire the mess between your legs, his finger rubbing circles on your cunt. His lips found your sensitive bud again, his tongue flicking the little bud until you felt the coil of pressure in your belly explode, making you scream out as your gushed on your husband’s face. He ate through your orgasm as you cried into the sheets, your nails digging into your palms.

Tywin’s beard glistened in your juices as he shamelessly licked his lips. Your cheeks heated in embarrassment as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you only a moment of respite before pushing both your legs onto the bed and holding your body weight up to turn you. You knelt on the edge of the bed facing him, he held your face to make you look at him. His fingers trailing down to cup your cunt.

“Would you consider this attention enough?” He whispered next to your ear as he dipped a finger in you, slowly thrusting it as he used his other hand to hold your face tighter. Your mind still disorganized from earlier, however his finger stirring your insides again made you pathetically whimper and nodded to his question before muttering out a quiet “Yes.”

Another finger slid into your cunt, his pointer and his middle finger filled your cunt as he slowly began to pick up the pace, his finger curling to stimulate the already sensitive nerves from the inside, your hands wriggled against it’s bonds. You wanted to touch him, you always touched him. Tywin looked intoxicated from the scene in front of him, your head fell forward to rest on his shoulder as he pumped his fingers fast, making you moan out. You felt hot and clammy and so sensitive but his fingers persisted as he began to urge you peak

“No, please, please.” You whimpered against his shoulder

“Please what, hmm?” Tywin’s voice held a amused tone to it, watching his wife break apart on his fingers.

You couldn’t reply but only grunt and then scream out as his fingers kept hitting the right spot inside you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, ready to blow through another orgasm that hurtled toward you. You took deep huffs of breath as your husband held you to stop your from falling forward, fucking his fingers purposefully into your pussy. Unlike the one before where pressure built up, your second orgasm bursted through like a dam. Your body weight held up by Tywin as you shut your eyes closed, tears of pleasure falling from them as a squeak and then a silent cry fell from you lips. A jolt of numbness shot through you body, the only thing you could feel was the constant throbbing between your legs and your husband whispering praises in your ears to coax you through the orgasm.

“You’re alright, so good sweet girl.” He whispered against your ear as your body shook from it’s post orgasmic state. Though your husband was not done with your yet. He gave you only a moment before pushing you back into the bed, climbing in after you, with absolute ease turning you to lay on your stomach. You were too engrossed by the sensations running through your body to protest. He lifted your hips up as your upper body laid flat against the sheets, your hands tied and yet again useless.

His tip was leaking with pre-cum and slick, and his body about ready to mount his wife into unconsciousness. He positioned his tip between your slick folds, rubbing his cock through them before circling his tip at your oversensitive clit making you flinch and cry out. Wriggling your body away from him, he told you this would stop whenever you told him to but you wanted this, you wanted his cock deep within you no matter how sensitive from pleasure you felt. He pushed himself in with ease making him groan, he took a tight hold of your hips for leverage before slamming his hips in completey. Making you grunt out into the sheets, Tywin’s body erupted in ecastsy as he thrusted into you hard, the sound of skin slapping filled the room with your incoherent moans.

“Perfect little wife.” He groaned between bresths as he fucked into you. “Made just for my cock, isn’t that right?” He slapped your ass to coax a reply out of you,

A mumbled “yes, made for your cock.” Slipped past your lips but sounded more like you crying for more cock. Tywin hands reached forward, pulling you up as his arm curled around your throat, the other went to greet your throbbing clit yet again. As his finger rubbed your nerves you cried out, tears covered your face from how oversensitive you were and Tywin relished in the pretty cries that left your lips. You felt yourself nearing again.

“Please, please I can’t.” You begged for mercy

“Yes you can, you will. Just relax.” Tywin grunted as he felt his peak reach him too.

He held your clit between his point and thumb and rolled it in between his fingers, it only took a few more thrusts before you came undone. Gushing yet again, wetting your husband’s cock. Your cunt fluttering around him, pushed him right to the edge.

“Take all my seed, nice and full.” He roared as his cock spurted it’s warm seed into your cunt. Your body falling forward into the sheets as he let you go, his hand slammed next to your head as he held himself up through his orgasm.

Your body felt like the apple pudding the kitchens make, any control of your limbs were lost to you as you felt as if your were floating through the seven heavens. In reality you weren’t but you sure were out of it, in an odd limbo of consciousness and unconsciousness. Once Tywin could move himself he gently pulled out, a rather full cunt this time considering he hadn’t laid with you in two moons. You whimpered as you felt yourself empty, clenching instinctively to keep his cum within you. Though even that turned to be a hard task. He gently turned you over to untie your hands, a gentle red mark had looped around your wrists which he lifted to inspect, rubbing them in his hands.

The sheets on your bed were absolutely destroyed, Tywin had walked over to the basin were the water was still rather warm, he dipped a cloth in to clean you up. When he reached to hold your legs open, you whined while lazily pulling yourself away

“No more, I can’t.” You whimpered

“No more my love, you did so well.” He cooed at you as he ran the cloth through your in thighs before wringing it and running it through your body. He wiped the stray tears that left your eyes as you blinked them open, sniffling before focusing your gaze on your husband. Who had a soft and comforting look to his face.

“Are you alright, Y/N” He inquired as his hand pushed your hair back, you nodded in reply; making him tap your lips for an answer

“Yes.”

He lifted you up effortlessly, taking you to the lady’s chambers. You lazily watched him with a post orgasmic bliss spread through your face. He put you down on the bed, you sat naked on the edge as you watched your husband walk around to your dressing table and retrieving your hair brush. You would have protested that he needn’t do that, you could have called your maids but when his fingers rubbed into your hair. You melted further. He took his time in comfortable silence, as he untangled your hair, one he was done he pushed you further onto the bed, maneuvering you under the covers before climbing in on the other end. You immediately curled up to him, he looked down onto your face. A small satisfied smile spread through his face as he took in the effect he had on you.

You however were fighting an internal battle, you were exhausted. Your husband nearly attempted to fuck you dead, but you needed his seed to catch. You tried your best to hold it in but youwere so tired, so you whined annoyed making your husband look down at you.

“Can’t hold it.” You pouted and your husband as usual had a solution for this too, he turned you the other way, his larger body spooning you. You felt him move around until you felt his softening cock enter your sore hole, you whimpered against his hold but he shushed you while gently pushing in. He stayed there still as his body cuddled into yours as every night before. He felt you flutter around, unsure of what to do until he spoke up.

“Sleep my love.” He whispered and so you did, your body grew heavier as your slipped into the world of slumber, content, warm and safe.

next chapter

#Spotify #tywin lannister x reader #desiblr #tywin lannister #house lannister #tywin lannister smut #tywin x reader #got x reader #got x you #ruiewrites #game of thrones #tears of gold au #reader interactive #reader insert #reader is female

[simillia]

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎— 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧.

ᥫ᭡ — 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a scenario where we discuss the unconsciously enticing behavior of our beloved pillars.

ᥫ᭡ — 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: descriptions of romance, charming routines, suggestive content, and more. relatively vanilla.

ᥫ᭡ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: neutral! reader + tengen uzui + kyojuro rengoku + giyu tomioka + sanemi shinazugawa!

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈; the sound hashira.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 

— this man is definitely the type to place his hands on the small of your back for guidance. applying, just enough, pressure to keep you moving. but not enough to harm and/or rush you.

— he is the type to grip your jaw between his thumb and index finger, as a way to gather your attention or to simply bring you in for a kiss.

— subconsciously has a habit of running his fingers against the ball of his shoulders when beginning to either train or fight. looking deadly serious.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 

— speaking of training, tengen has a tendency to warm-up his skills with a flashy showcase; one that caters to the way he handles his blades with ease. a cocky ass smirk on those pristine lips.

— can, and will, manspread against a chair as if he were some sort of mystic being. thrusting his hips to re-adjust his bottoms. hand placed firmly on that muscular thigh.

— has a habit of removing his undershirt with just a thumb and forefinger. yanking it from the back instead of the bottom. fuck !

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔; the flame hashira.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙖𝙯𝙚 

— could be in a room filled with over a thousand gorgeous human-beings; bodies attractive by societies standards. and he wouldn’t look at none of them.

— he’d solely watch you and you, alone. smothering golden irises trailing your figure intensely. not caring about anyone else. honestly, his eyes would be on you the moment you entered the room.

— is definitely the type of man to admire your beauty without an ounce of shame, running a finger across his lower lip in innocent desire.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙢𝙨 

— has a habit of positioning himself directly behind you on a train. tilting those broad shoulders towards anyone who got relatively close. if, by chance, there is seating, he’d offer up his own and allow you to take it. despite the protests.

— will literally offer to take care of any needs. for example, if you were wearing heels on a night out, he’d carry you on his back until you got to where you needed to be. a gentleman at heart.

— he’d be the kind of guy who’d, not only, walk you home but wait until you made it inside before he leaves for his own place. chivalry is not dead with this one.

— bonus; his boisterous laugh. and the way he’ll lean back, possibly slamming a hand against his chest at something hilarious <3

𝐆𝐈𝐘𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐎𝐊𝐀; the water hashira.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 

— will replenish any items he notices are low; need some more shampoo (?) another bottle with literally appear with no explanation of when or how it got there.

— he is not the best at showing his emotions therefore will do little gestures to make up for it. such as, run his hand across the edge of the table whenever you accidentally drop something on the floor. wanting to provide cushion if you were to bump it on the way back up.

— is the type to allow you to do anything to him; braid his hair, apply makeup, lay a wig— anything! though, he’ll remain blank-faced the entire time.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 

— is the type to play with your hair, dragging fingers against your scalp as he listens to your read one of your favorite books. simply loves the sound of your voice.

— has a knack for memorizing everything. if you mention wanting a certain sword, book, or set, prepare to have it appear at your doorstep. and will leave reminder notes around— say, you’re to forget something.

— observational skills are at the maximum when it comes to you. whenever there is a change in mood or a doubt, he’ll always be able to tell. he might ask, but will never pry.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀; the wind hashira.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 

— will simply pat your head as a form of comfort, affection, and encouragement. though his words may seem brash, that physical expression will contradict venom each and every time.

— but he also has no problem gripping you by the base of your throat to either bring you closer to him or to put you in your place. opting to squeeze gently, if you happen to piss him the fuck off.

— he is usually the type to bellow in anger however do not purposely provoke him because he is the type to lower his voice immensely when handling his jealousy or annoyance with you.

 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚 

— remember the voice thing (?) yeah, well that is the most attractive trait he has. especially first thing in the morning when you’ve just woken him up. those next couple sentences are going to be hoarse, deep, and sleepy.

— has a habit of getting firm when faced with something he doesn’t like; except he will not raise his voice at you. instead he’d smoothly but aggressively will tell you to stop with the bullshit.

— grunts and groans when working out, body just littered with sweat. as each set gets more challenging, so will the noises falling from those plump lips.

ᥫ᭡ — for more content click here. to join similia’s library click here.

#simillia #reader insert #reader interactive #x reader #anime #demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer tengen #tengen imagines #tengen uzui #giyuu headcanons #giyu tomioka #giyuu x reader #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi imagines #rengoku imagines #rengoku headcanons #rengoku x reader #sanemi x reader #tengen x reader #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader

[2kmps]

BOUNTY

hot outlaw x engineer!reader | 2.8k

story summary; shortly following the death of your mother, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate offspring of a railroad tycoon with insurmountable wealth and power meant to inherit it all. after a hasty departure from home to begin your journey across the continent of san-am, your train is stopped and boarded by a mysterious man in black tatters who claims to be there kill you.

story warnings; mentions of death, mention of bodily fluids and excrement, heavy worldbuilding, mentions of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, neo-western setting, old-west slang used, usage of unique slang, not really proofread or edited, concept piece for a much larger project.

if you enjoyed, please interact & reblog this post!! ❣️

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel. 

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into. 

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car. 

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat. 

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps. 

And then, there was silence. 

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”  

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather. 

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins. 

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim. 

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded. 

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.” 

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders. 

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others. 

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?” 

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut. 

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead. 

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”  

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said. 

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them. 

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: so, this is a concept piece to a very large neo-western project I'm currently in the process of outlining and fleshing out. most things mentioned in this little oneshot will not be present in the final piece, the quality will, of course, be substantially better.

jericho is an outlaw with an extremely complex background story and will definitely be one of the more interesting characters I've ever written. he's not necessarily the sort of man you want entangled in your life, but he's loyal to a fault once you have his trust. his personality tends to revolve around "taking things as they come", which is a great nuisance to those around him. he likes a good challenge, strong liquor, and good medicine.

here's a brief glossary if you're interested:

san-am: the continent where events take place. no one knows what it used to be called because most historical documents have been lost. it's divided into five territories with a "capital".

grimerise: the central hub of commerce, home of the governing bodies. it's a large city dead center of the other four territories. mc was born and raised there. the university of san-am is also here.

st. corpus: the industrial heart of san-am, found down south near the seaboard. mc's father lives there.

"gris": currency in this world. its components are coins and bank notes. it is a relatively new thing to come about because the bartering system is still the preferred method of trading.

#outlaw x reader #outlaw x you #outlaw x y/n #cowboy x reader #cowboy x you #cowboy x y/n #romance #neo-western #neo western #oc x reader #oc x you #oc x y/n #2k writes #original fiction #original fic #original story #original writing #writing #western romance #cyborg x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #reader interactive

[ellecdc]

#marauders era #short ficlet #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #orginal character #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert #reader included #reader interactive #marauders au #marauder fanfiction #hp marauders #canon divergence #original character #remus lupin x oc #sirius black x oc #james potter x oc #poly!marauders x oc

[fensherohair]

The Marauders & The Metamorphic Witch Part 9

Words: 1.9k Warning: None although mentions of dating Pronouns: She/Her

Christmas was drawing closer; the many students seemed to be in a constant buzz of excitement. Many spoke about their plans, discussing if they would be going home for the holidays or staying within the walls of the castle. The castle itself had been decorated, and the great hall had several trees around the side, with a larger one behind the professor's area at the back of the hall, especially decorated by the professors. The candles floating in the hall had holly wrapped around the base, with snow falling from the cloud sky, hiding the arched ceiling. Even the grand staircase had been decorated. With tinsel lining the many moving staircases, some with sparkling baubles, too. The pictures had Christmas trees with them or something Christmas-related, and a few even singing Christmas songs. 

Of course, the common rooms hadn't escaped the Christmas makeover. Each had a tree in the corner near the fire. Decorated in the house colors with Hogwarts emblem baubles here and there. Other decorations had also appeared around each common area, seemingly overnight. The first-year students always seemed to be amazed, whereas the older ones grinned at the reminder Christmas was coming. Every now and again, mistletoe would appear in a doorway or above a random area where students gathered. However, the Scottish weather had likely already reminded them the holidays drew closer, with the thick snowfall beginning in November and seeming to be constant. Until the ice and snow created a winter wonderland out of the castle grounds, even the great lake had frozen over. 

"Are any of you staying here for Christmas?" asked Isolde, a soft smile gracing her lips as she remembered her parents informing both her and Allegra they would be staying at the castle this year. Their loving parents had finally got around to going on the romantic getaway they'd always talked about doing. Isolde had accepted it without much fuss, instead looking forward to exploring the castle when it was almost empty and getting to experience something new. Allegra, on the other hand, had written a harsh letter back to their parents, demanding they either change their plans or allow her to go to her favorite aunts for Christmas. Not surprisingly, they had refused, explaining it was too short of notice and the aunt would also be away with her own family. 

"I will be, same with my dear older brother," stated (Y/N), recalling her parents were going to travel the world this Christmas, visiting her uncle in Egypt and Grandpa in America. The plans had been in place for a while now, but the uncle wasn't one who they got to see often, even if he always wrote and sent gifts for special occasions. Plus, it had been some time since their father had seen his own dad and his side of the family. The visit there was long overdue. 

"I'll be going home, much-needed time with my sister Petunia," stated Lily, her bright smile dimming a little as she remembered how their once strong sisterly bond had faded in recent years. To the point that they barely spoke, and Petunia often ignored her. She had her own life now, friends that were normal rather than magical. "I'm hoping to fix our relationship; things haven't been the same since finding out I was a witch," commented the redhead, awkwardly moving her hair and brushing her fingers through it. She looked around the quiet dorm room, to her trunk that was already packed, and the presents sitting on top from three of the girls surrounding her. 

"Family Christmas for me. Three generations in one house," chuckled Marlene, recalling the chaos that happened every year, her brothers always excitable on Christmas morning, ready to rip into the gifts, her grandparents telling stories of the past, her parents, aunt, and uncles casting a few spells to help the day go easier and entertain the younger ones. Despite the screaming, terrible singing, and often embarrassing stories, it still ended up being another perfect Christmas, even if the adults did end up tipsy or outright drunk by the night's end. 

"At least I get rid of most of you and the boys," grumbled Allegra; the tension between the Smith Twins hadn't eased over the past month or so; if anything, it had gotten worse, to the point it was difficult for most to be around and the shared dorm had become almost unbearable. The two barely spoke to each other now and only stayed in the same place when there was no other choice, such as classes and the great hall. They did their best to stay away from each other when in the great hall and traveling between classes. Although Allegra still stayed close to the group, she often made rude comments. She acted as if she was the de facto leader, trying to control what everyone did and often shouting about the mischief and pranks being worthless. 

"Remus mentioned Sirius was staying in the castle this year," voiced Marlene, glancing over to (Y/N) sitting on her bunk holding her penguin plushy, an open box of Berty Bots on the trunk at the end of her bed. "Apparently, he had a falling out with his parents about something, so he chose to stay behind," she added, mindlessly braiding her blonde locks, almost laughing as (Y/N) seemed to miss why Sirius chose to hang around the castle rather than taking James up on his offer to go to the Potter's for the holidays. 

"He's a tosser, but he's somehow adorable at the same time," commented Lily, noticing the way (Y/N) looked around at the mention, still appearing oblivious to what almost everyone could clearly see. "Remus, too, is cute in a nervous way," laughed the auburn-haired girl, Isolde joining in, too. Marlene and (Y/N) looked at each other, the latter's cheeks heating up as if realizing what the girls were referring to, whereas (Y/N) looked on with confusion as if she didn't understand the direction the conversation had turned to. 

"How in the name of magic haven't you noticed?" asked Isolde, directing her question to (Y/N), who looked back with confusion sparkling in her (E/C) eyes. She shook her head as if to indicate she didn't understand the question asked. "Come on, James practically yelled from the astronomy tower weeks ago," she added as Marlene and Lily began to laugh a little more. Isolde tried to find a way to explain it to her clueless friend. 

"Sirius has a crush on you, (Y/N)," giggled Lily, blurting it out to save the awkward sidestepping Isolde was running at. "When James asked if Sirius had asked his girlfriend if she would brew the potion, he was referring to you," admitted Lily, finding the situation cute. How James, as gobby and annoying as he was, tried to help his best friend when it came to his school love life. "As I said, Sirius may be a toss pot, but you two would make a cute, mischievous couple," she added, as (Y/N)'s cheeks heated up at the realization, her eyes wide as she tried to hide behind the penguin plushy she held on to. 

"Hey, if Sirus and (Y/N) are the Cute Mischief Couple, does that make Marlene and Remus the parents of the group?" asked Isolde, turning her attention to Marlene in time to see her hide her burning cheeks behind her hands, before quickly hiding beneath the wooly blanket previously resting across her bed. "At least you two recognize there's something there, and again, you'd make an adorably cute couple," she added as if to soothe the embarrassment a little. Allegra merely rolled her eyes from her bunk, not appreciating the girly talk or the reminder of others having what she wanted. 

"And yet neither of you attended the winter dance together," voiced Allegra, pointing out Remus and Marlene didn't attend the dance together despite both recognizing there was a connection between them. Likewise, Sirius hadn't asked (Y/N) to be his date to the dance despite how obvious his crush on her was and how James and occasionally Remus pushed him to be truthful with himself and (Y/N). 

"I can't walk in a straight line without falling over; how do you suppose I dance without my superpower of clumsiness taking hold?" asked (Y/N), a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes began to sparkle with mischief again. Lily chuckled again, likely imagining the scenario mentioned or something else had tickled her about the comment. "Not to mention Sirius didn't ask, neither did Remus ask Marlene," she added, pointing out that neither of the boys had gained the courage to ask either of them to attend the winter dance with them. Just as it became clear again, Allegra hadn't paid attention; if she had, then she would have been aware (Y/N) had spent that week in the hospital wing again after being hit by a bludger during Quidditch. Remus had as well due to his condition being particularly difficult that month. 

"Speaking of going on dates on all, Isolde, how was your date?" asked Marlene, turning the attention to Isolde, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her eyes wide as she began to pale at the realization she hadn't been as secretive as she thought she had been. Mentally, she questioned if one of them had seen her and her date at the Three Broomsticks or during their wander around the snowy Hogsmeade. 

"At least tell me, my brother dearest was a gentleman," spoke (Y/N), her grin turning gentle as she revealed she was aware of the date; she found it cute, as much as Isolde and the others found her imaginary relationship with Sirius cute. Isolde looked over to (Y/N) with almost horror, as if terrified that she already knew of the months-old relationship. "He told me weeks ago. Said that he didn't want things to be awkward or make the friendship weird," admitted (Y/N), recalling when Hunter had pulled her aside to ask her permission to date Isolde. (Y/N) Being herself, she had asked why he needed permission. Although she did promise she'd kick her brother's ass if he hurt one of her best friends. 

"See, this is why I say you Wolffe siblings are something to admire," laughed Lily, throwing a cushion at Isolde playfully. The brunette girl returned the favor soon after before breaking out in laughter. Marlene and (Y/N) glanced toward each other before hearing someone call their name from the common room. No doubt one of the boys. 

"That will be the boys with the presents," spoke Marlene before getting up to answer the call. A soft smile appeared on her lips as she saw James waiting below, Peter next to him, wondering why he'd been roped into helping with the gift delivery. In the hands of the scrawny boy was the small pile of presents intended for him from each of the girls, each wrapped to the best of the individual's ability. 

"You and Lily joining us on the train home tomorrow?" asked James, raising his voice slightly so Marlene could hear him over the chattering students crowding the common room, all of them getting ready to leave for the holidays. Knowing they had to be ready and at the station by noon the following day. 

"I will be; I'm not sure about Lil. You get Mason, though, and I think Regulus," confirmed Marlene, walking to the small spiraling staircase to join the pair of boys in the common room. She was thankful to be away from Allegra again but dreading returning to the tension-filled room. She didn't want to imagine what would happen over the holiday period, with both Smith Twins being stuck in the castle and still having to share a dorm. However, she had little doubt (Y/N), and Sirius could handle it or remove themself from any situation if needed. 

Series Masterlist

#wizarding world #sirius black #x reader #james potter #metamorphic reader #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #reader insert #sirius black x reader #lily evans #oc characters #female reader #reader interactive #witch reader #marauder era #marauder x reader #marauder fanfiction #wizarding world fanfiction #part 9 #cross posted on quotev #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #happy holidays

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Mean It [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: (Left) @coffeefirstpleaze (Center) @amekeii (Right) @flowersforfrancis

Prompt: Character accidentally dumps their coffee on someone in a very dramatic fashion; aka when Emily and the reader have their first date and it does not go to plan. 

Category: Fluff 

Word Count: 4.5K 

Content Warnings: Minor language and mention of drinking. 

A/N: This is just some pure Emily x reader fluff! The prompt is another from @imagining-in-the-margins and her lovely Meet Cute Writing Challenge. You could read this as a standalone or as a sequel to my story Moschino and Muddy Water. (linked). I hope you enjoy this story, and if you do, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you all have a good rest of your week. - Levi 

List with all stories 

_y/n_ = your name

_f/c_= your favorite color 

_y/f/s_ = your favorite senator 

_y/f/h/m_ = your favorite horror movie 

As Emily walked outside to the terrace, the rest of the ladies from the team semi-stood and ushered her over. Em’s chunky heels made small clicking sounds on the smooth cement floor. When Emily had pulled out the sleek metal chair, JJ leaned over and gave her a hug, quietly asking, “How are you?” Emily smiled and said, “Pretty good given everything that happened on Friday.” Penelope had overheard the comment but stopped the question she desperately wanted to ask due to the fact that a waiter was walking over to them. The waiter pushed Emily’s chair in for her and asked, “How are we doing today ladies? Are we here celebrating anything?” There was a choruses of, “Goods,” and one “Fantastic!” from Penelope. Emily answered the second question stating, “We’re not celebrating anything in particular today. Just a girl's afternoon out.” The waiter nodded at Emily’s response and then replied, “Well thank you for joining us this afternoon? I’ll start you all with some still water. Has anything on the menu caught your eye, or do you need another moment?” JJ, who had been looking over the menu stated, “Yes, actually. Can we start with a bottle of Chablis -- the 2009 Au Revoir Simonne and the charcuterie board?” Emily and Penelope nodded their agreement. JJ always knew the best things to order at a wine bar, and they trusted her judgment. The waiter nodded and said, “Wonderful choices. Is there anything else I can get you?” Penelope spoke up, saying, “Yes, Can I also get a shot of espresso?” Again the waiter nodded and added the coffee to his list for the table. At the mention of coffee, Emily cringed but waited to jump into why. Inevitably the story would make a full appearance while they were together. 

Once the waiter had gone, Emily turned to Garcia and asked, “How was your day in the office, Pen?” Garcia smiled and replied, “It was fine, but honestly when the team isn’t on a case it can be so boring. If the BAU isn’t needing my magnificent services, I can’t ethically ignore Stevenson’s Tax Crimes team. Stevenson’s research only requires me to code break and unencrypt, and as good at that as I am, it’s just boring. That’s junior hacker stuff and it rarely pushes me.” JJ smiled at that response and teasingly said, “Oh come on Penelope, you can just say that you miss having Morgan in your ear all day.” At this, Emily and Garcia laughed. When they had laughed it out, Garcia turned to JJ and asked the blonde agent, “Soooo, how is Will doing these days? Any updates for us?” JJ gave a small sigh and said, “You know I love him dearly, but he can be so uncertain at times. He’ll have an idea about where our relationship is going and then when I bring it up, he’ll backtrack. I know he loves me and wants to be with me, but it gets annoying you know?” Both of the other women nodded their understanding. Emily responded empathetically, “Maybe you should go and see him in person again soon? Even if you’re talking on the phone, tone can get mistranslated, and forget about texting. But I can tell he’s a good guy, and I hope it works out in the long run.” JJ smiled at her friends and their support of her and Will’s burgeoning relationship. 

The waiter returned and set down three plates and a bucket of ice on the center of the table along with three long-stemmed wine glasses. The lean man then said, “I’ll be right back, ladies.” Emily, JJ, and Garcia refrained from talking about anything super deep because they knew the waiter would be back in a moment which he was. The man set the charcuterie board on the center of the table, then placed Garcia’s espresso in front of her, and finally poured each woman a glass of wine. He then nestled the half bottle of wine into the bucket of ice. The man took a step back and said, “I’ll leave you all to your conversation, and if you need anything, just call me over.” The women thanked him and watched him as he moved back inside. Garcia, Emily, and JJ took their glasses and clinked them at the center of the table saying, “Cheers!” They all took a sip of the dry wine and passed the glass plates around. When each of them had some food on their plates, JJ turned to Emily; who quite frankly, they were all here to listen to. After a moment of anticipatory silence, Garcia said, “Alright Em, are you telling us or what? I personally can’t wait much longer.” Emily chuckled, appreciating her friend's concern. 

This whole girls' day had happened because on the Monday of that week, she had come into the office particularly gloomy. JJ noticed it immediately and asked what was up. All Emily had said was that she had had a bad date. That was all she needed to say apparently because due to that, JJ had asked Garcia if she had heard anything about this terrible date? By 5:00 p.m. that afternoon, Emily was being badgered by Garcia and JJ for details. Emily had acquiesced and agreed to tell the story of the date over drinks on Friday, but not before then. And now it was time to dish. Emily took a breath, and another sip of wine before saying, “Well. I had a date planned with someone.” Garcia could tell Emily was being evasive and said, “Come one Em, at least tell us their name. I promise not to stalk them online.” Emily gave Penelope a questioning glance to which the technical analyst said, “I pinky swear not to look this person up.” With this promise made, Emily said, “Well her name is _y/n_. We met sort of by accident in the Moschino dressing room. JJ, you were actually on the phone with me at the time.” JJ took on a look of understanding and said, “Wait, that’s the person! I didn't know you met her again!” Em nodded saying, “Yup. I actually ran into her again after the dressing room incident. She got me a coffee and we talked for a bit. It felt really natural, and I asked her out for a real date. Which happened last Friday.” At this point, JJ and Garcia were hanging onto her every word. It was a pleasure to have such attentive friends, and Emily continued, “Well we had a day and time set up, and I was really looking forward to it…” At Emily’s hesitation, JJ moved a hand over Emily's wrist saying, “But it didn’t work out with _y/n_? What happened?” Em gave her friend a soft smile and said, “No. It wasn’t _y/n_. She was great, but fate threw a few wrenches in my plan for a perfect date. I’ll give you all the details…” 

Flashback to Friday Afternoon 

Emily had secured a reservation at Noir 75th. It was one of the hardest spots to get a table at in D.C. She was getting ready in her Moschino dress to meet _y/n_ in half an hour at her apartment. This was when the first of the minor disasters had started. Emily heard her phone ping, and she swiped up to her messages. It was _y/n_ and the text read: “Hey, Emily. My car has a flat. I’m calling a cab and hope to be there in around twenty minutes. Sorry if I’m a bit late.” Emily blushed at the consideration and replied: “No problem. Sorry to hear about your car. See you in a bit. I’m looking forward to it.” Emily wasn’t worried about _y/n_ arriving on time. There was a leeway for their scheduled reservation and as long as _y/n_ was actually on her way, it would be totally fine. Emily turned back to her own pre-date ritual. She sat in front of her vanity and she pulled out her assortment of makeup. The next setback was when the restaurant called her, informing her that they had accidentally overbooked their reservations for the evening. Emily asked if there was any other way for them to get a table at the restaurant, but the maître ‘d had told her that he was extremely sorry, but there was nothing he could do. Em really had no backup plan for dinner. She knew that _y/n_ wasn’t expected to be wined and dined, but it had been so long since Emily had been on a real date that she wanted to make it special not only for herself but for _y/n_ too. 

Emily decided that she would ask y/n_ if there was a place she liked that they might go to instead. There was really no reason to tell _y/n_ about the cancellation while she was on her way over. With a final swish of her lipstick, Emily finished her makeup and put away the cosmetics in their proper place in the cabinets near her sink. Just as she was closing the drawer, there was a knock on the door. Emily did one last check over her face and moved to the front door and opened it for _y/n_. _y/n_ was standing outside with a bouquet of roses and the most beautiful expression Emily had seen in a long time. _y/n_ was wearing black form-fitting pants and a _f/c_ turtle neck with a charcoal grey coat that accentuated her shape. It took a moment for Emily to realize that she was blocking the door, and she composed herself saying, “Sorry, please come in. You look amazing.” _y/n_ blushed and said, “So do you, Emily. I got these for you. I know roses are cliched, but all the other flowers at the store were wilted.” Emily nodded and took the flowers from _y/n_’s hand. As their skin brushed against each other, there was a jolt that shot up Emily’s arm, and from _y/n_’s expression, Emily could tell that her date felt the same thing she did. Given the chemistry they felt for each other, Emily leaned down slightly and kissed _y/n_ on the cheek before stepping back and saying, “Nothing is cliched if it’s coming from you _y/n_. You could pick some weeds from the sidewalk and I’d still be overjoyed to have them.” At the compliment and the kiss, _y/n_ flushed and said, “You’re so sweet, Emily.” They stood there for a moment, each transfixed on the other. Finally, the spell was broken when Emily moved to put the flowers in a vase with water. As she did this, she said, “I have some bad news.” _y/n_ who was now walking around the sleek space turned toward Prentiss and said, “Oh? What is it?” Emily sighed and said, “The restaurant accidentally overbooked tonight and our reservation got canceled.” _y/n_ let out a breath. For some reason, she had been expecting something worse. She replied, “It’s okay. We can go somewhere else.” At this point, Em was done with the flowers and had moved to _y/n_’s side. _y/n_ was looking at a picture of the team Emily had framed on a bookshelf that was half knickknacks, half Zadie Smith books. Emily was relieved that _y/n_ was cool about having to change plans on the fly. Not that Emily had expected her to throw a tantrum or anything; it was just that she personally had a hard time when plans didn’t work out. With the news shared, Emily asked, “Is there someplace that you like that we could go to instead?” _y/n_ thought for a moment and replied, “There’s a great Thai spot about five blocks from here if you like Thai. Their curry is unmatched.” Emily smiled at _y/n_’s enthusiasm and replied, “That sounds amazing. It is the perfect weather for some comfort food.” _y/n_ wanted to ask Emily about the photo. She wondered if the people in it were part of her family or extended family. None of the six others in the still looked much like Emily. She held off on the question, just in case their conversation stalled at dinner. Then she would have something to fall back on. 

The two women made it down the hallway at to the elevator which was the spot of the next misfortune. With three floors left to the ground, the elevator jerked to a stop. _y/n_said, “Wow,” a bit out of surprise at the sudden stop. Emily and _y/na_ waited a moment, expecting the doors to open and someone from floor three to join them. However, after a few minutes, Emily softly said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” _y/n_ looked over to her date realizing that they might be stuck in the elevator. Emily moved to the litany of buttons near the doors and pressed the open door button with no response. She pressed it multiple times with the same result. Emily then pressed the help button. There was a momentary silence and then there was still nothing. Emily turned to _y/n_ and let out a small laugh at the ridiculous nature of their evening so far. _y/n_ joined in the laughter. Emily returned to _y/n_’s side. They both leaned against the railing and _y/n_ jokingly asked, “You’re not claustrophobic are you?”That got another laugh from Emily, and she was sincerely glad that _y/n_ was taking this all with a smile. Emily replied, “Thankfully not. I am, however, a bit upset that the elevator gave up the ghost right now. My neighbor told me it’s been finicky the last week, but he’s always complaining about something in the building so I didn’t really believe him. Maybe someone on the third floor will try and use the elevator and the doors will open?” _y/n_ nodded along and thought of something, saying, “There was a doorman that let me up to your unit? Could you call the front desk or something?” At this, Emily facepalmed and said, “I’m such a dummy. Why didn’t I think about that before.” Emily pulled out her phone and dialed the front desk. For a moment it seemed that the call was going through, but then it dropped. Emily tried once more and the call didn’t go through again. She took her bottom lip in her teeth saying, “The reception must be bad in here.” It took a half hour before someone on the third floor pushed the down button, releasing the two trapped women. At this point, Emily and _y/n_ were a bit tired and very hungry. Emily proposed just getting some takeout and staying in, to which _y/n_ readily agreed. 

Things seemed to be looking up when their Chinese takeout arrived and they were happily eating with chopsticks and talking about whatever suited their fancy. _y/n_ swallowed a bite of low mein and looked back at the picture from before. She asked, “Can I ask who those people are in that photograph over there?” Emily’s eyes turned to the aforementioned picture. Seeing it brought a smile to her face, and she replied, “That’s my team. We took that picture at Friendsgiving last year.” _y/n_ nodded and asked, “I guess in your line of work you kind of have to be close-knit, huh?” Emily pondered the question for a moment as she took a bite of her egg roll. She wiped the sweet and sour sauce which she had managed to drip on her chin off with a napkin before she said, “Not always actually. The BAU team works well and we are friends, but it takes a long time to get close like we have. Even if we do spend a good bit of time together. Our team has integrated well, but I know other teams have lots of internal conflict and don’t get me started with inter-office relationships. I’m very lucky to be where I am at the Bureau.” After a moment, Emily said, “I assume  it’s not the same dynamic at _y/f/s_’s office?” _y/n_ laughed hard at the suggestion, almost choking on her sip of water. Once her throat was clear, and she had wiped away the few tears that had escaped her eyes. _y/n_ said, “Are you kidding me? Even being cordial to some of the people I see every day is hard. I’m sure you have to work through a lot of bureaucratic red tape at the FBI and get annoyed with it. Well, I am that red tape. Being attached to a political party is a surefire way for half the people you're working with to hate you.” _y/n_ paused for a moment then clarified, “I don’t mean hate, hate. It’s just that you're working against them and there are inevitable winners and losers in politics. And the scandals, Emily. You have no idea how much we have to run around these people to stop them from ending their own careers.” Emily chuckled at this and said, “That bad?” _y/n_ nodded saying, “Talk about it. If you read the paper and you think that’s bad, the real thing would terrify you. It’s shocking we even have a semi-functioning government.” The conversation continued through the meal. 

Emily took the empty take-out containers from the table and threw them in the trash can. She turned to _y/n_ and asked, “I’m going to make a cappuccino, would you like one?” _y/n_ said, “Yes please.” Emily moved to her espresso machine and got the grounds set up while steaming some milk. When the drinks were finished, Emily carefully moved to the couch where _y/n_ was seated. Unfortunately for Prentiss, she did not fully notice where the carpet and hardwood floor met. The lip of her sandal caught in the rug and she fell forward spilling the contents of both cups on _y/n_. _y/n_ was not expecting to be sloshed with the hot liquid, but she was more concerned about catching Emily before she fell into what looked like a very expensive glass table. Emily gave a little grunt as she fell into _y/n_’s arms. There was a moment where _y/n_ just held Emily who seemed to be a bit stunned. After that moment, Emily snapped back to herself, righting herself saying, “Oh my God, _y/n_ I am so sorry? Are you hurt? Did I burn you?” Her words were coming fast, filled with worry and concern. _y/n_ assessed her condition. She felt hot and wet and her skin was a bit red, but the pain had mostly gone and she replied, “I think I’m fine. Are you okay, Emily?” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’m fine, just a bit embarrassed. God, I am so sorry _y/n_” _y/n_ gave her a soft smile and said, “It’s okay, Emily, it’s just clothes.” Emily nodded and asked, “Do you want to borrow something of mine for now?” _y/n_ nodded and said, “That sounds nice.” Em stood and gestured for _y/n_ to follow her to her bedroom, which she did. Emily turned on a lamp moved to her closet and found one of her oversized sweaters and a pair of sweatpants. She offered the clothes to _y/n_ who took them and moved to the bathroom to change. As _y/n_ stripped, a loud crack of thunder rang around the room. _y/n_ was feeling cozy in Emily’s sweater, cozy and tired. She wasn’t sure how much longer the night would be, but she felt like relaxing and called to Emily through the door, saying, “Em. Do you mind if I take off my makeup? It kind of got smudged with the coffee.” From the other room, Emily said, “Of course. There are some clean towels in the drawer under the sink. The drawer on the left.” There was a contented, hum, and Emily heard the a drawer opening and the sink running. Emily took the moment to change herself. It felt a bit silly wearing a fancy dress at home when she could be in something comfortable instead. Just as Emily was finished changing, _y/n_ headed back out to the bedroom. 

Emily looked over at _y/n_ and flushed. _y/n_ in her oversized shirt and pants was so cute. Emily moved forward and said, “Hey there.” _y/n_ took Emily’s hands and tipped her head up to which Emily leaned down and gave her a kiss. When they pulled apart, _y/n_ asked, “I’ve had such a lovely time tonight, but I don’t want to impose? Would you like me to head out soon?” Right after she asked this, there was another spectacular clap of thunder and lightning so bright that it momentarily filled the room with light. Right after this, the skies opened up in a torrential rainstorm. This wasn’t just a few drops or even a shower. This was rain pounding hard against the window. Rain that even with an umbrella trying to get in one’s car, the individual would get soaked. Emily looked out the window, and then replied, “_y/n_, you're not imposing. At all. Why don’t you stay the night? I don’t love the idea of you being in a car in this weather.” _y/n_’s eyes widened slightly as Em made the suggestion, and she asked, “Are you sure?” Emily nodded and said, “Of course. Why don’t you go to the living room and pick a movie for us to watch to wind down the night while I take off my makeup?” _y/n_ agreed and moved back to the living room. _y/n_ found a towel in the kitchen and cleaned up the spilled coffee as much as she could. She also moved the dropped cups to the sink. While Emily was washing off her makeup, _y/n_ asked, “How do you feel about horror?” While she patted her face dry, Emily responded with, “It’s okay with me, _y/n_.” Emily grabbed _y/n_’s stained clothes and hung them up so they wouldn’t wrinkle on a clotheshorse she kept in her closet. After a few minutes, Emily returned to the living room. She grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet and then moved to the fridge and got a bottle of wine and some glasses. She settled next to _y/n_ and set the blanket over both of them. With a glass of wine for each of them, they started watching _y/f/h/m_. 

Just as they were settling in and getting ready for the scary part of the movie, the power shut off. Emily had her arm around _y/n_’s waist and was enjoying the warmth coming from her date. This time she couldn’t hold it in anymore and said, “Are you freaking kidding me? What do the fates have against us having a nice date?” _y/n_ chuckled again and said, “Em, I’m here to spend time with you. I’ve been happy this whole time, even when we were stuck in the elevator. Getting to know you and spending time with you is what’s important to me.” _y/n_ took Prentiss’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Emily took a moment to calm down and said, “I appreciate that, _y/n_. You really know how to handle these situations with grace.” _y/n_ hugged Em softly and said, “Thank sentator _y/f/s_ and his staff.” This had Emily laughing and when she regained her voice she said, “How about we head to bed? I don’t think anything too bad can happen there.” _y/n_ agreed saying, “Sounds good to me.” Both women disentangled themself from the blanket and Emily put the half-finished bottle of wine back in the fridge. With their phone flashlight to light the way, they made it to Em’s bed. Emily pulled the covers back and _y/n_ slipped off her socks before getting onto the mattress. Doing this, sleeping in Emily’s bed for the night had not been how she had expected this night to go. However, she didn’t mind. She was being bold, and putting herself out there, and doing that with Emily felt good. _y/n_ was surprised that Emily hadn’t taken her socks off, and she jokingly said, “Are you sure you’re not a psycho, what with you wearing socks in bed?” Emily replied back, “Hey. My feet get cold alright?” _y/n_ smiled in the darkness and said, “Well I could help you with that.” There was another comfortable silence as Emily moved closer to _y/n_. Em started slowly by grabbing _y/n_’s hand, and when _y/n_ nestled closer to her body, she pulled her into an embrace. They didn’t need to say anything. In the simple act of holding each other, they said all they needed. Before, _y/n_ and Emily fell asleep, _y/n_ ran her foot up Emily’s leg slightly and Emily sighed at the feeling. Emily hoped they would have other nights like this. Hopefully with a better start to the evening. When sleep took them, the rain lightened slightly, and the whole night felt okay, no matter how many bumps in the road there had been. 

Back to Present 

Emily had told it all, minus the fact that _y/n_ and slept together in her bed. That was a bit too private to share yet. Garcia was staring wide-eyed and asked, “So… are you seeing her again?” JJ, added on, “Yeah, that sounds like a pretty rough night for both of you.” Em finished her sip of wine and said, “We are actually. The date didn’t go as planned, but we both had a good time getting to know each other. She’s really nice and kind.” At hearing this, Garcia gave a little squeal, and JJ asked, “What are you doing for your second date? If you tell us will you jinx it?” Emily laughed and said, “We’re doing something very safe. I’m going to her place and we’re ordering pizza and drinking beer and finishing watching that movie.” ‘And we might just get snuggled up together in bed,’ Emily thought, which brought a blush to her face. Garcia clocked the color rising in her face and said, “JJ look, she’s blushing! When do we get to meet her?” Emily rolled her eyes and said, “Y’all, It’s too early for that. I’m still just getting to know her.” Garcia pouted slightly and said, “But we met Will for the first time with JJ.” Emily, slightly exasperated said, “Garcia, we were on a case.” Now JJ laughed and said, “And what a case that was. But to echo what Penelope said, if or when _y/n_ is ready, you know we’d love to meet her.” The ladies continued their conversation and got another bottle of wine, and in the cool afternoon, Emily felt that life might just be okay; and she really meant it.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss one shot #emily fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds oneshot #reader x emily #emily blurb #emily drabble #jj criminal minds #penelope garcia #reader insert #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotcher #reader interactive #fluff #date gone wrong #I tried to make this extra cozy

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PUNISHMENT — johnny slaughter

WARNINGS: 18+, Johnny being Johnny (mean), smacking/beatings, it's lightly abusive but with sparkles over the top

A/N: my incoherent rambling for this very evil no good man that I have been lusting over since this game came out. heavily inspired by the au/world building from @whatitshouldvebeen and their wonderful writing for johnny.

please please please don't slap a community rating on my post just don't read it and block my tags or me. it really effects who sees my work that I make for FREE for anyone to enjoy. thank you 🤗

Somehow some way you're out in public with Johnny at like a bar or something and you're playing footsie with his cock under the table. He was teasing you all day and had left you hanging on the edge of an orgasm before declaring you were going out for some “fun”, and you had foolishly thought that you could get him back for the teasing you had to endure.

Johnny doesn't even bother to hide the sadistic grin he's got on his face as he drinks his beer, forgetting all about the newest victims you two were out trying to get. The first chance he gets to pay he does, dropping the crumpled bills on the table, dragging you to the truck and breaking every speeding violation known to man to get back to the house.

His hand would basically be imprinted on your ass the second you get home and up to his room, bent over his lap as he delivers slap after slap to the supple flesh. He's almost kind with it, trailing his hand over the hot skin between beatings, cooing at you for being such a good girl, taking his punishment without complaint.

Johnny’d even rub at your desperate clit, giving you some reprieve before your ass distracts him, big hand palming at it roughly before another round starts up, smacks filling the room once more.

You can barely walk, let alone SIT after he's done with you and he takes great pride in his handy work every time you wince and whimper in the weeks following. It's weird though, each twinge of pain also brings a wave of pleasure, distracting you even further.

Day to day tasks are a struggle, and Johnny can't help but pat your ass whenever he passes you by, laughing when you whine that it still hurts. He's kinder to you in the days following, as kind as he can be, at least. Lifting anything he might think is too heavy for you even if you can handle it, things like that. Though he does it more to feed his ego knowing that you need his help than to really help you out.

Don't worry though, he made sure to give you the fucking you were so obviously craving once he was finished teaching you a lesson. He relishes in the desperate, keening moans you make as he pounds into you, your face smushed into the pillow, barely able to dampen your wailing.

The bed is damp with sweat and tears and the steady stream of your arousal that drips out of you, each smack oh your skin colliding jolts another gush out of you despite the pain that follows.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter smut #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm game #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw game #reader insert #reader interactive #x reader #ꮺ. my work #Ꮺ. caution #Ꮺ. smut warning