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iiraven · 3 years

Text

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear.

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 1)

summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 2875

warnings: smut... sort of (oral f receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism (kinda?), touch of angst, lots of pining and awkwardness, jealous bucky being jealous, alcohol use (reader gets drunk)

Nothing annoyed you like being surrounded by stylists and being primped and prodded for hours at a time. It made you feel claustrophobic to be touched so much: makeup artists only inches from your face, tailors watching you change, hairstylists nearly spraying you in the eye or burning you on the forehead every few minutes.

Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to actually be in the whole get-up once they were done.

But, such was the nature of a red carpet event. This one was going to be particularly bland because it wasn't even a premiere or awards event but a launch party for a perfume campaign. How lame is that? It's one of those things that really only exists so that there can be pictures of it to put in a magazine, because they're always running out of good pictures of celebrities to publish.

Finally all dolled up to the point that you didn't look even very much like yourself anymore, your assistant accompanied you downstairs and into your driveway where your car was waiting; and, more importantly, its driver and your driver, Bucky.

He was a gruff sort of guy; certainly a man of few words and many brooding glares. Sometimes you thought he didn't like you— like maybe he resented your fame or something— but then he'd turn around and be so sweet all of a sudden and you didn't know what to think. For one, he demanded to open the door for you every time you got out of the car. Sometimes he even extended his hand for you to grab on to, which was especially useful for red carpet events when you were usually wearing skinny heels that were impossible to balance on.

Such was the case tonight as well, and you smiled up at him as he helped you out of the car and up towards the steps of the venue.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, and he barely smiled back.

"Have a good night, madam," he suggested, a formal stuffiness to the way he addressed you.

You nodded, "You too!" That made you pause, though, because you weren't sure what his night would entail at all. "Say, what is it that you do when I'm at an event like this?"

He seemed confused by your question. "Um, I sit in the car and wait until you're ready to leave."

Guilt seared in your chest and you frowned. "That's it? You don't, like, go out? Catch a movie?"

"Nope. That would prevent me from doing my other job, which is watching the points of entry to make sure there aren't any threats to security going in."

"Right…" you trailed off. "You could always come in, you know, grab some free drinks and stuff."

"I thought you didn't want any of your team following you around at events."

"Yeah, don't follow me around, just mingle and kill some time!"

Bucky shook his head. "If I'm not there as your driver or as your security, then I'm not there."

You shrugged. "Suit yourself, but please feel free to, like, get some food or whatever you wanna do while I'm in there! Don't just wait on me!"

He smiled, but it looked a little rehearsed. "Thank you, madam."

You realized he'd been holding your hand through the entire conversation, cause you'd asked him your question midway through getting out of the car. Awkwardly, you finally dropped his hand and waved goodbye, escorting yourself up the last few steps and into the door.

God, he must think I'm such a freak.

God, she must think I'm such a freak.

Bucky munched on the sandwich he'd had delivered (yes, to the car, how else was he supposed to get it?) as he dutifully watched the entrance. Against your advice, he had every intention of just sitting around and waiting for you, but he wasn't bored; he had a Mets game on the radio to keep him company.

"— top of the third, bases loaded, DeGrom is at the plate with one swing left aaaaaand… he strikes out!"

"Shit," Bucky grumbled to himself around a mouthful of pastrami.

Glancing up, he saw someone stumbling out of the party: squinting, he realized it was you. He looked at the clock with a furrowed brow, noticing it was a little earlier than he'd thought you'd leave, but then he saw that there was someone with you… a guy.

Bucky set his sandwich down and turned the key in the ignition as he watched you pull your phone out of your clutch— ostensibly to text him to bring the car around, but he was already ahead of you, quickly exiting the parking lot and circling the building so he could pull up at the steps. He was about to get out to open the door for you but this random guy did it instead, before tumbling in after you.

"That tickles!" you protested with a giggle as your new friend started to kiss your neck, his hands all over you before Bucky had even gotten the car moving.

You were too drunk and distracted to notice that the partition was still open. Of course Bucky had considered closing it, in fact he wanted more than anything to close it so he wouldn't have to see this, but some sick part of his brain needed to see it. How else could he know if something went wrong and he had to get back there and stop it? How else would he keep you safe?

How else would he get to find out how you sound when you're being touched like this?

He couldn't see too well with it being the middle of the night and all, but every time he drove past a streetlamp or particularly bright neon sign, the colorful glow would shine in and cast light over your neck where your head had fallen back in pleasure; or your collarbones, exposed where your dress had been pulled down; or your chest, rising quickly with the speed of your panting breaths.

Ogling you in the rearview mirror made him feel like a total creep, but it satisfied a bit of the urge he'd been feeling ever since he started driving you. He wasn't actually a driver, at least not usually; he was more or less your bodyguard at this point, but you were really adamant about having a small detail and so that was why he was working double-duty tonight… and why he'd been doing so for almost three months now.

"Baby," you gasped, and his eyes shot right back to your reflection; you were writhing against the seat, and he could just barely see the top of the guy's head where it was buried between your legs. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, lips curling into a relaxed smile. His cock was not only hard but throbbing at this point, as if that was going to do him any good. He barely ever got to look at you, and he knew he would never, ever be able to touch you— beyond holding your hand as you stepped out of the car, at least. Whenever he did that, he imagined for a moment that he wasn't your driver at all but your date, that he would get to keep your hand as he guided you down the red carpet with him. Not that he wanted any of the attention that you got, of course, but at the same time he did like the idea of all those photographers snapping pictures of his arm around your waist, or you looking up at him with your hand on his chest. They'd all run stories wondering what a beautiful, successful, massively talented woman like you was doing with a guy like him, but he wouldn't find the energy to care about crap like that if he had you all to himself.

Another whimper from you pulled him out of his daydream, reminding him to focus on the road as best he could. He knew you would hate him if you knew that he'd thought about you like that. Or if you knew about all those times he'd checked in on you while you slept at night and lingered a bit too long. Or if you knew that he had rewatched that one sex scene you'd done in your last movie about a thousand times. It always broke his heart to see you underneath some other guy (his name was either Dermot Mulroney or Dylan McDermott or possibly Dermot McDermott?) and yet it turned him on like nothing else to watch you immersed in pleasure. Similarly, now, he couldn't stand knowing it was someone else making you moan the way he was hearing, but it was the best he was ever gonna get.

"Oh god," you sighed, "fuck, yes, yes, oh my god yes—"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and it must have been the noise of the leather stretching that made you notice him; as if every dream and nightmare of his was coming true at once, your gaze met his in the reflection of the rearview.

He was so screwed, and he was totally going to get fired tomorrow, but he couldn't look away. Your eyes were like dark magic the way they pulled him in, kept him locked on you as his face started to burn so hot it could cook an egg.

Staring you down, he saw your mouth fall slack as your hands reached down to grab your date's hair and tighten into fists. Shivers shot down his spine as he imagined the way it would feel if you pulled his hair like that.

The longer you kept looking at him, the more a very dangerous thought danced in the back of his mind…

What if she wants me to watch?

Which, even more concerningly, started to slowly morph into another idea…

What if she wants me?

He was sure you were coming. It wasn't obvious; you didn't say anything, didn't moan too loud, didn't scream or sob or call out any names (which made it easier to pretend it was for him) but he could tell. Your swollen lips were parted silently as he watched your breath catch in your chest, and your hands clenched around fistfuls of hair. What he would give for you to pull his hair like that, and come for him like that— except he wouldn't have stopped there, unlike your current companion who was already moving back up your body to kiss you hungrily.

He'd always thought you had really pretty hands, and they looked pretty good sliding over the back of this guy's suit jacket, but he liked them best when they gently pushed him off. "We're almost there," you mumbled as Bucky turned the car into the driveway, using his fob to open the gate.

Once he'd come to a stop outside your door and turned off the engine, the three of you exited and stood up as you yawned and stretched.

"You'll take Jack here home, right?" you asked Bucky quickly.

"It's Jake…" the man corrected with hesitance.

"Right, Jake," you smiled, "you'll take him to his place, right?"

Bucky gave the guy a smile dripping with gloating contempt, loving the disappointed look he was wearing as he realized he wasn't going to be spending the night in your bed. "It'd be my pleasure," he announced coldly.

"Great, thanks," you sighed. Standing on your tiptoes to give the guy a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder, you thanked him for a great night and made your way into the house.

Jake looked around in confusion for a moment before getting back in the car along with Bucky, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

"What address am I going to?"

"Uh, 333 15th Street, in Brooklyn," the guy replied, pausing to let out a soft but incredulous laugh as the car began to move. "Level with me, man: does she… do this kind of thing, a lot? You know: bring guys over, make it seem like something's gonna… happen, but then just send ‘em back home and never call again?"

With a silent glare, Bucky rolled up the partition.

You heard the front door, even from your current location of the shower upstairs, and knew Bucky was home— okay, not exactly ‘home’ since he didn't leave here full-time, but home in the sense that he was in your home and in the place he would be staying tonight. You just hoped he'd actually stopped the car before kicking Jake out; he never cared much for when you had guys over or really just interacted with guys at all, because of the "security risks" or whatever.

Next, you heard him coming up the stairs and passing by your door. "Hey, Bucky, you out there?" you called to him.

"Yeah, what is it?" he answered through the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just—" you stopped when you heard the crinkling of paper. "What is that? Do you have food?"

"Um, yeah," he answered.

Your stomach growled; the event had only had tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the alcohol in your system enhanced your desire for a midnight snack. "What kinda food?"

"It's a sandwich— well, what's left of one: I was eating it while I waited for you."

"Are you gonna finish it?" you asked curiously.

"No, I was thinking I'd put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You paused a bit before asking, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah, sure, you can get it in the morning—" he began.

"No, now!" you clarified.

There was a pause before he responded. "Right now? In the shower?"

"Yeah, just bring it in here!"

"I-I'll let you finish showering first—" he stammered.

"No, Bucky," you whined, "just come in here! I'm hungry!"

Another pause before he finally opened the door, his blurry figure visible through the steam-covered frosted glass.

"What's on it?" you asked as you washed the last of your shampoo out of your hair.

"It's pastrami on rye with jalapeños, fresh mozzarella, pesto and some sort of spicy aioli or something."

"Ooh, come to mama," you purred as you reached over the top of the door with opening-and-closing grabby hands, squeeing with glee when he placed the wax paper package in your grasp.

"Okay, enjoy your drunken shower sandwich," he congratulated grimly, about to turn and leave.

"No, wait, where'd you get this?" you asked as you leaned out of the stream of hot water to unwrap your bounty.

"Uh, you know the deli on 8th and Columbus?"

"You went all the way out there?"

"No, I had it delivered."

You snorted with laughter. "Couldn't leave me alone for even a minute, huh?"

"Well, I fully intended on leaving you alone for this shower."

But you didn't really notice that comment because you'd just taken a bite and couldn't stop yourself from moaning loudly around it. "Oh my god, Bucky, this is so good!"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, glad you like it."

"You have good taste in sandwiches!"

"I think the word for 'taste in sandwiches' is just 'taste,’” he pointed out, his smirk audible in his voice.

"Can we go to this place tomorrow and you can order for me?"

"We can do whatever you want tomorrow," he relented.

"If you drive, I'll pay,” you offered.

"I always drive. And you always pay,” he pointed out.

You frowned, not visible to him through the steamy glass. "I do?"

"You pay my salary, so, yeah…"

You laughed, a little too hard. "You're so smart!"

"Sure,” he replied quickly.

“Okay, I’m almost done in here,” you informed him.

“With the sandwich or the shower?”

You laughed with a little snort, which would’ve embarrassed sober you. “Both!”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he replied, starting to go back out the door.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky,” you waved even though he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know that I will,” he admitted, “you’ll probably be hungover and lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Hmm, possibly,” you agreed as you pondered that. “Then I guess just ‘goodnight,’ and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Goodnight,” he replied and stepped out of the bathroom— you could hear him go downstairs and shut the door to his room, and you glanced down at the last bite of your/his sandwich with a smile.

You must have gotten in bed at some point, cause that was the last thing you could really remember before you woke up a bit before noon, bright orange sunlight shining directly on your face where it rested on the pillow. You groaned and turned over, feeling like your brain was too big for your skull. You sat up when you saw a menagerie of unfamiliar items on your nightstand. A bottle of pedialyte, a bottle of Fiji water, a few aspirin, an orange and a banana waited for you in a pile, with a little piece of paper sitting in front which you read.

Hope you’re feeling alright, these might help in the meantime. -B

You smiled, twisting open the Fiji and taking a sip. Bucky always took such good care of you, even in ways he didn’t need to. What would you do without him?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n

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king-bito · 3 years

Text

Vanta Black is a butt

I’m sorry, this is my first Drabble or whatever this is, I didn’t proof read it, I don’t really know what my intention was here.. I’m not a writer, I do digital art, but there’s so little Shihai smut out there I thought I would add my bad writing to the small pile xD

I’m SO SORRY.

Pairing: Shihai Kuroiro x Reader

Characters are in their mid twenties.

Rating: Explicit

MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Dub-Con, Predator/Prey Dynamic, Quirk use, Smut

It’s been a long day, it’s 10pm and you just exited the cinema alone, your friend, who decided to make the whole movie about kissing, making out, and blowing their newly acquired boyfriend, ditched you early in favour of going home with him.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be a third wheel. You’d resigned and accepted your fate, opting to take your time, grabbing a coffee at concession before leaving.

It’s Friday night and there’s still a buzz of nightlife, just barely starting to pick up. Luckily you lived nearby so you wouldn’t have to suffer atrocious cab fares, and the awkward conversations that you always felt cornered into.

You take a deep breath, finishing off the last of your beverage and tossing it into the trash and beginning your walk home, pulling together your jacket to ward off the cold bite of the night air.

————

It’s only 2 blocks from your apartment when you hear what sounds like distressed meows coming from a dark alley. Was it a cat? Fuck, it’s too cold on a night like this to just ignore it. You aren’t the bravest person, and dimly lit alleyways threw up about a dozen warning signals, but these small, infantile kitten meows had you falter and pause.

Biting your lip, you decide to suck it up. You can’t abandon a little kitty out here..

Oh how wonderfully gullible you are.

As you near a filthy dumpster with so many tags on it you can’t even make out a single letter, a cold breeze makes you shiver, it travels up your spine making you feel unsettled. For some reason the meows stopped when you began to enter the alley, and as you pull your arms around yourself for comfort to try and quell the fear, you peer around some stray boxes and trash bags, hoping to locate the abandoned animal.

You let out a gasp as something moves, you suppress a scream and tumble back against the brick wall, panting, heart beating rapidly.

There is nothing.

You swallow, you must have imagined it right?

Suddenly you feel something warm grab your wrists from behind, instinctively you try to pull forward but whatever is holding you is like a vice. Looking down you see pitch black hands wrapped firmly around your dainty wrists and then a low, whispering voice hits your ear.

“Hello little mousy~” Out from the dark brick behind you, a mans face with charcoal pigmented skin is pushing out from the darkness, his deep, dangerous tone terrifying and a little too provocative. Your first reaction is to bolt, and as you yank yourself away (purely at the mercy of this strange man in a wall letting your wrists go), you fall to the ground, turning to back yourself up against the opposite wall, resting on your now scraped palms. “W-what the hell?!” You stammer, taking in the sight before you.

Oh how cute.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, hoping to draw the attention of someone, anyone, nearby.

...

A deep chuckle cuts through the cold silence between you, and you watch as the head moves forward, more of his body emerging from the wall, and now, you get the chance to fully drink in his features. He’s handsome, well, what little you can make out in the low light against impossibly dark skin. His eyes are hooded and seductive, they study you with each breath you take. His lips are lightly pursed into a small smirk, they look perfect on his sharp jawline. His face is framed by a mop of thick silver hair that flicks out in an unruly manner over his cheeks and the back of his neck. The man is clad in a black coat, grey denim jeans, and a low cut v-neck tee, where you can make out his defined collarbones disappearing beneath the lapels of his long coat.

“Aww.. did I scare the poor little thing?” The man coos out gently, and the twisted smile he wears tells you very clearly this was all just fun cruelty to him.

“O-Of course you did! Who the fuck does tha-“

“Shihai” he interrupts you.

“What?”

“My name is Shihai Kuroiro, but you may call me Kuro.”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is.” You blurt out, getting yourself back to your feet and pressing yourself against the cold brick as if it would get you any further away from this..thing.

“You should. You will. Pretty thing like you couldn’t help but come to the pitiful little meows of a kitten, you didn’t even think, did you?”

“I-I…”

“I’m not even very good at making those sounds.. and yet you wandered all the way down an unlit alley, where oh, I don’t know…” Shihai steps forward and places his palms either side of your shoulders. He’s taller than you, lean, but sturdy in build, and his every languid movement was filled with its own strength and purpose. “...anyone could take advantage of you."

"I saw you in the cinema," He continued."you and your so called friend, she certainly had a good time, didn’t she?” He muses, leaning down so his wild grey-ish locks tickle your temple, his breath fanning over your neck as he spoke.

You can’t help but go red at the closeness, there was no doubt he was hot, he was very much your type and when was the last time you had a good fuck? Too long, that was for sure. But this guy was being a real creep! Not to mention scaring you half to death like some sort of twisted predator…

“Such a shame they didn’t invite you along with them.. then again, if they had, I wouldn’t have been able to get you alone like this… so cute, so flushed.. and my.. so easy.” He growls darkly, carding his fingers through your hair, and slowly curling his hand into a fist to grab a handful and yank gently. “Have some fun with me…” You knew this wasn’t an offer, but an inevitable demand, and against your quickly disappearing better judgement, you nodded meekly. Fuck it.

———————

The next few minutes are a blur, as you find yourself naked beneath Shihai, panting and mewling as his mouth works your nipple, sucking and nibbling while his hand massages and kneads your other breast. “K-...Kuro…” You gasp, arching your back and grabbing a fistful of his hair. You throw your head back and pant to the pulsing in your core, deft fingers of Shihai’s free hand thrusting in and out of you while curling them expertly.

The man is ravenous as he attacks that spongey spot inside you, his mouth hotly working up your neck and leaving an all manner of marks in his wake. You let out a guttural moan, writhing underneath his frame, pressing your chest to his and rocking your hips against his fingers, chasing your orgasm like a woman starved.

So Shameless

You weren’t quite sure how he got you to this room so quickly from the city street, no doubt it had to be some weird quirk that came with his abnormal allearance but you were hardly complaining once he stripped you, and himself down and practically threw you onto the bed to jump you.

“So beautiful.. so good for me, little mouse…” he coos, growling shortly after as he notices your body giving him telltale signs of your impending release. “Kuro.. please.. I-I’m..” You whine loudly as he pulls his fingers out of you abruptly, ceasing his administrations in full and repositioning himself above you. “Uh-uh-uh..~” Shihai keens, tutting before capturing your mouth in a lust filled kiss and pressing his tongue to your lips, demanding access. Your pitiful whine of protest offers him the perfect opening as he slides his tongue into your mouth and dominates you entirely, a free hand pushing your hips down to stop your pitiful bucking. “Mmmphhh~” You moan into his mouth, running your hands up and down his chest and ribs, feeling the muscles move and tense and admiring each contraction as he moves to line himself up.

“You only get to cum on my dick, understand~?” His voice is smooth like butter when he breaks the kiss, bringing his hand up to lick your ample juices from his fingers in a lewd display. He nearly moans when he tastes you, eyes fluttering closed as he savours your taste, slowly and teasingly sucking every digit clean. “Oh.. so delicious, little one. I’ll be sure to clean you up properly when we’re done…” He grins, sliding his tongue out of his mouth provocatively, causing you to whimper.

It’s only when you feel his hips move do you realise he had slowly been lining himself up with your dripping entrance, rolling them to push the tip of his leaking cock into your stretched hole, the movement drawing a long, loud moan from you. Fuck, you didn’t even get a good look at it in the heat of things, but fuck if it didn’t feel massive as it slowly stretches you out around the sheer girth.

Shihai hums contently, clearly holding back his sounds in favour of composure and control as he slowly, smoothly, sheaths himself into your heat. The stretch hurts, and is taking a little too long to grow accustomed to as you look up at the stunningly biz are creature above you. You raise a hand to his cheek, admiring his smooth warm skin and slight changes in shade as he grows hotter and hotter from the workout, and you offer the first gentle touch of the night to him, as re-assurance he can move, yes, but also an attempt to connect, and as his eyes dart to you’s, you swear you could see his cheeks reddening a little.

Shihai shakes his head and lowers himself down to bite and nibble at your neck, slowly beginning to rock his hips back and forth. “So.. so tight, you really are a sweet little thing aren’t you” he manages between thrusts that grow in intensity. “Fuck, you’re practically sucking me in, beautiful.” he grunts, a shudder racking his spine as you continue to touch him tenderly.

“A-ahmmm… Kuro!” You groan, breaths becoming an uneven pant, you lean back to give him better access to your neck and guide his hand up to your breast again as you start to move your hips in time with his, lifting your knees to let him hit deeper and deeper inside of you. “I wanna… mmmmphhhh! Shit.. I need to…” you feel the tightness building in your stomach.

The pace quickens and the new angle has him hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He’s bracing himself on one hand, and with his other, he’s squeezing and gently teasing your pebbled nipple beneath his fingertips.

“Hahn… gonna cum? Go on… you can do it. Cum all over my cock.”

You throw your head back again and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust until your walls clench and contract around his dick, making it twitch and pulse as you both reach your high, coming undone at once.

—————————-

Kuroiro takes surprisingly good care of you after multiple rounds of intense orgasms, he cleans you up with a warm damp cloth, feeds you, and gives you water before you damn near pass out in his bed. As he settles in beside you, scooting up to try and make you roll over so he can spoon you, you reach up to cup his cheek in your hand, your sleepy expression sweet and lazy. “...You’re still a creep..” You murmur gently, causing him to look at you with a little shock. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you cut him off before he can get a stupid cocky remark in. “...but this was amazing. Do you think next time we could start…. with an actual date?”

His mouth opens again, this time he’s speechless. “Wait.. r-really? You’d.. you’d like to…?”

“Shhhh…” you nod, smiling gently as you roll over and shuffle back into him.

What you’re too tired to notice, is the heat coming from his cheeks, ears, and neck. Shit, he thought if he could just remain in control he wouldn’t become a stammering blushing mess. You weren’t supposed to like him! Nor ask him out!

But you had to be a cute little sweetheart and flip the tables on his plan.

#shihai kuroiro #Shihai Kuroiro x reader #lemon #smut #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #vanta black x reader #first time doing this please go easy on me

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

You Can Run [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: You Can Run [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: For request “Could you maybe do something with Sesshomaru? Maybe his ‘darling’ trying to escape not knowing that it would literally be impossible?”

Word count: 1700ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping

Planning an escape when you are constantly being watched, constantly surrounded, is not the easiest of tasks. You know this, because you have been planning an escape from the demon lord Sesshoumaru for many days now. It wasn’t an easy decision. He once threatened to kill you if you ever tried to leave, and you don’t know if he means it--but he doesn’t seem the type to make idle threats, imposing and stoic as he is, which is all the more why your plans simply cannot fail.

You have to leave. You have to get home to your family. You have to regain your freedom and your normal life. And since he has no intention of letting you go, escape is the only way you can take back control of your fate.

So you planned, and planned, and bit by bit prepared yourself to leave. Every few days, you snuck a provision or two into a bag you’ve tucked into your clothing--nothing big, nothing Rin or Jaken or (if he deigned to deal with those everyday tasks, which he doesn’t) Sesshoumaru would ever notice. Dried meat here, a fire stone there, extra cloth, a needle for repairs. Little things, but important, if you were ever to make it home in one piece.

Of course, you’re no hardy traveler, no world-weary merchant or soldier who is used to life on the road, but the seemingly endless days and nights you’ve spent captive in his presence have hardened you a bit. Your feet are used to walking (and walking, and walking); you know how to make a fire more readily than you ever did in your village, where your parents or elder brother were only too happy to step in when you fumbled with the tools; and you’ve learned to be more aware of sounds in the forest, how to find clean water, where to fish and how to keep yourself warm when the darkness brings chilly air.

I can do this, you think, every time you feel your mind begin to falter. Every time you catch him staring at you, as if he can read your thoughts, as if he knows what you’re planning and he’s waiting for you to take that first step away from camp to grab you and snap your neck or worse.

I can do this, every time you take advantage of Jaken’s distraction to grab something you’ll need. The knife was your biggest feat, the last thing on your mental list; and you swear you can feel it burning against your skin, a warning that it was too risky and he’ll notice and you’ll be caught and--no, no, no, you think.

I can do this.

Your heart is hammering so violently that you’re briefly afraid that it will wake someone up. It won’t, you know--but that doesn’t make your nerves any less shaky or make you feel any safer. Your eyes do another sweep of the campsite as you slip off your footwear and tuck them into your bag, now full and slung over your shoulder.

Rin is sleeping peacefully, and your heart felt a pang of guilt when you’d slowly removed her arm from around your stomach--cuddled close, as she’d started doing recently. You do care for her, poor thing that she is, but you have to care for your freedom more. Jaken is sleeping… well, like Jaken--snoring and occasionally mumbling and clawing at the air. But the biggest obstacle to your potential escape is what worries you the most: Sesshoumaru. He’s leaning against the nearby tree, eyes closed, body passive and prone. Is he sleeping? Resting? The thoughts come in rapid flickers, terrified bursts that tempt you to lay your head back down and forget you ever began plotting to run.

But the temptation is overcome by the slow, dreaded visions of the future. Were you to be his unwilling travel companion forever? He would never say why, exactly, he’d taken you--would never tell you what he was going to do with you or when (if ever, if never) this would reach an end.

So you took the chance. And took a wary step. No movement from the demon lord. You took another step. Still, nothing--no, a breath, an easy one, careless. He must be sleeping. He must be sleeping. You take another step and another until you’re away from the flickering fire and instead in the woods, dark and loud with the sound of insects and animals. You slip on your shoes to protect your feet and pull out the pilfered knife, just in case. The moon above is round and glorious and you silently thank it for lighting your way. You needed to be able to see, to get as far away as possible, particularly during the first few nights of your barely-tangible freedom.

It’s thrilling. It’s terrifying. You could die out here, well before you make it home. You’re well-aware, now more than ever, of the potential dangers in the forest--of the potential dangers in the world. Yet you can’t help but think, as you push aside brush and ignore the itching of insect bites, would it not be better to be killed by a wolf or drown crossing a river than to be forced under the will of a demon lord?

You forge ahead, each step filling you with a shaky confidence. You’d done it. You’d gotten away. When the moon disappears and the sky turns its beautiful colorful shades to prepare for the rising sun, you feel something akin to happiness wash over you. Surely you’d gotten far enough that they couldn’t catch up right away, surely so--and you decide to take a rest in a natural clearing.

You sit against a rock and finally pay attention to the rumbling of your stomach. You had barely eaten the night before, too nervous to keep anything down. You don’t want to start a fire--you’re not that far away, you remind yourself--so you pull out a piece of cold, dried meat and take a bite. Maybe you can find a river soon to quench your thirst. Maybe you’ll even be able to catch a fish or two, though cooking them would have to wait.

And then, a branch snaps. Hard. You tense. A wolf? A bear? Your hands slowly reach for the knife you’d set on the ground. Could you fight off an animal with such a small weapon? Or would your theory about it being better to die at the hands of an animal be haunting you so quickly?

No, no, no. Your vision begins to blur in panic as the familiar visage of Sesshoumaru steps out of the trees. White--and red. And angry.

You manage to stand, legs quaking, the knife falling from hands that you can’t control, and you turn to run when you see that the white of his eyes have become a terrible blood-red. He’s going to kill you. The thought rushes through you--Is it better to die by the hands of the demon lord than to be his unwilling captive?

Your body moves of its own accord but it doesn’t matter, because you don’t take but a half-step when you feel him harshly yank you backwards by your hair. You tumble to the ground with a cry and he swoops down, pinning you to the forest floor with his claws.

His breath is hot and he practically spits as the words tear out of his throat, low and violent: “What did you think you were doing, human?”

His eyes are even more horrible up close, and your mind tries to think of chants, of prayers. His claws tighten at your wrists and you know you have to say something, though nothing will spare you from the death that you know is coming. Your body is trembling so wildly that your teeth knock together when you answer.

“I was going home. I was getting away from you. You--you can’t keep me.” You’re going to die, so you may as well be honest. At least you’ll die with a pure mind.

“Of course I can,” he hisses. “I will keep you, and you will listen, and you will stop being such a damned annoyance.” And just like that, his tirade over, his red eyes fade, returning to their impassive coolness. The air feels less heavy and you can breathe. But he doesn’t let you up right away, and stays uncomfortably close to you as you lay prone on the ground.

“The sooner you stop being foolish, the better.”

You don’t know what to say. He gets up, then, and stares down at you.

“Get up. We’re going back. I will think of a punishment later.”

He’s not going to kill you. You don’t know why. He’s going to keep you. And you don’t know why.

The will to live overpowers anything else, though, and your force your shaky body to get up off the ground. You glance at your bag, at the knife you’d dropped earlier, and Sesshoumaru merely stares as you gather up your supplies. Waste not, want not, you suppose.

He begins walking away from the clearing, back into the forest, and you have no choice but to follow. Your newfound freedom is already gone. You feel deflated. You feel more helpless than ever. What went wrong? Was he awake when you ran? Did you leave tracks, unknowingly, perhaps with your shoes? You have to know.

"Lord Sesshoumaru?”

He doesn’t answer, and you stare at the back of his head as he walks with an ease through the forest you’d taken much longer to navigate.

“How did you find me so quickly?”

He stops for a moment, just a second, before continuing on.

“I tracked your scent,” he says, without bothering to look back. “ I marked you a long time ago. I’ll always find you, no matter where you go. Remember that, human. ”

Ah, you think.

I can’t run.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x reader #afterwitch writes

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citrusdarling7 · 3 years

Text

Tophelia

summary- a smutty excerpt from my tom riddle x oc book, which you can find here (wattpad) or here (ao3)

warnings- smut, praise kink, tiny bit of degrading, fingering, swearing

🗡—————————————————————🗡

As soon as we found an un-inhabited guest room, I was backed against the wall as his hands tightly grasped my waist, his tongue pushing against my lower lip. After a few moments of rough kisses, he yanked back my hair to allow his mouth better access to my neck. I threw my head back in pleasure and anticipation, letting my body arch against his. A cold hand had started to snake under my dress and up my thigh.

“Wait- give me one moment.” I pushed his head away from my neck as I drew my wand. I quickly casted a few Silencing Spells, kicked off my shoes, then double-checked that the door was locked. The room was lit by various lamps that had been scattered about and I vaguely recognized it as where I might have set a tapestry on fire last summer. Once my wand was rested on a nearby table, Tom started to tug off my dress.

The beautiful fabric was no match for him. He didn’t bother with the zipper as he ripped the bodice apart and slid it down my legs. I was going to grieve the loss of such a pretty dress, but I was focusing on more important things at the moment. Riddle suddenly hoisted me up by my thighs, pushing me harder against the wall. My legs wrapped around his middle as I ran my lips across his jawline.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined us in this scenario,” he whispered against my ear. “You looked impossibly alluring in that dress tonight, and you look even more alluring without it.” A sharp pinch to my thigh forced a sudden moan from me.

“Stop talking and take off your clothes,” I groaned. My hands had started to unfasten his belt buckle, but he pushed them away.

“No, not yet. I’ve waited so long for this, and I plan to savour every minute of it.” Tom hooked two of his fingers in the waistband of my lace panties, allowing the pads of his fingers to brush against my skin. “Have you ever let a man touch you before?” I forced myself to meet his gaze before speaking.

“Just one,” I admitted. His jaw clenched as he glowered at me.

“Really? Who?” Tom’s other hand began to spread soft touches across my collarbones and neck.

“Conner McLaggen.” To my suprise, his eyebrows raised as he let out a cold and cruel laugh.

“The Gryffindor? I would’ve expected you to have a bit more dignity than that, Ophelia.” He spat his words at me, as if he wasn’t the one who brought up the subject. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair that I show you how it feels to be pleasured by a real man.”

Riddle’s cold fingers slipped under my panties and pressed against my folds. Two fingers entered my heat, causing me to gasp quite loudly.

“Salazar, you’re soaking wet. You’re quite the little whore, aren’t you?” Tom slid his fingers in and out of me at a slow pace, sending sparks of pleasure through my core. His other hand found its way to my throat and squeezed gently. “Such a pretty girl.” Tom decided to add his thumb, circling my clit slowly. I nearly cried out from the shock of the new sensation.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I sighed. Every time his fingers entered me my core tightened around them in anticipation. Conner had been a decent partner, but he never made me feel the way Tom did.

“Yeah? You like being fucked by my fingers, don’t you?” Unable to speak, I simply nodded my head and whimpered. I let my head fall against his shoulder as I bit down on my lip. Every push of his fingers sent pleasure coursing through my veins, and I never wanted it to stop.

“Tom-” I moaned into his shoulder, my hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. My entire face was flushed, likely due to the dirty things he kept whispering into my ear.

“Would you like to come, my darling?” His breath was hot against my skin, his curls tickling my neck. I had hooked one of my legs around his in an attempt to steady myself, longing to feel his body against mine.

“Yes.”

“Then look at me, Ophelia.” Tom suddenly took hold of my chin and thrusted it upwards. Our eyes met in a gaze of intensity that I had never seen in him before. He loved having this sort of power over me; loved having complete control. “I want to watch when you fall apart for me.”

And with a few more quick movements from his fingers, I was sent tumbling over the abyss. I felt my body ripple with waves of intense pressure as I desperately tried to soften the volume of my moans. I clenched around his fingers, my thighs shaking from the immense pleasure. I cried out his name repeatedly as I came.

“You made quite a mess. Open your mouth,” Riddle demanded. I let my lips part, and he immediately pushed his fingers past them, making me taste myself. I began to suck, which was met with a low groan from him. “We can stop now, if that’s what you want. I do not wish for you to regret anything that we do.” Once his fingers were withdrawn, I tilted my head upwards and let my mouth wander his neck.

“I regret nearly every decision I make, so it does not matter. I want to keep going,” I told him. I had started to undo his tie while he gently rubbed his thumb in circles against my hip. “I want you, Tom.”

Did I want him? I was not so sure. His physical body was similar to that of a Greek god, and his lips left beautiful marks every time they met my skin. Riddle was the boy that I had fought so hard to stay away from, but right now I wanted the two of us to be as close as possible.

I was once again lifted by his arms, although this time I was thrown onto the bed. I watched with anticipation as he started to undress himself. I was practically pulsating in between my thighs, still overwhelmed from what he had been doing to me mere minutes before.

“I take the potion, so it’s alright if you don’t use a condom,” I suddenly blurted out. Tom’s brow raised a bit as he allowed himself to smile. His hand softly caressed my cheek.

“You have done this before, correct?” I nodded as I felt his other hand reach around to the nape of my neck, tangling itself in my hair. “I’m still going to be somewhat gentle with you. At least for this time.” His hands gripped my hips to keep them steady as he finally lined himself up with my entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against my clit, causing me to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Stop teasing me.” His fingers tightened around my hips, digging into my skin in a fashion that was sure to leave me with bruises. He slammed into me suddenly, causing me to yelp. The pace he set was torturously slow, his length stretching out my walls with every thrust. My head fell back against one of the soft pillows as my hands gripped the duvet.

“You feel wonderful, my darling. So tight and warm,” Tom groaned. A hand left my hip and tangled itself in my hair, directing my face off of the pillow and back towards him. “Kiss me,” he demanded. It was a struggle to raise my upper body enough so that our lips could meet, but I loved the feeling of his mouth on mine. Riddle nibbled on my lower lip as his tongue explored the inside of my cheeks.

“More,” I whimpered. My hips thrust upwards, desperate for more friction. Tom’s hand flew around my throat as he laughed coldly.

“What do you want? You want me to go faster? Fuck you harder?” His words were enough to make my spine tingle. The hand squeezing my neck would have made it very difficult to speak, so I settled for a nod. “I want to hear you beg for it.” His grip loosened a bit, allowing me to groan in frustration.

“Please, Tom. Please, I need you.” Tom’s lips curled upwards in quite possibly the biggest grin I’ve ever seen from him.

“I’ll give you what you want, but first I want this off.” His hands slid to my back, reaching for the hooks that held my bra together. He quickly unfastened the garment and tossed it behind us. Soft fingertips gently tugged at my nipple while he sucked on my neck fervently. I was certain that there would be marks left behind.

He began to pound into me at a relentless pace, causing a series of moans and curses to tumble from my lips. My hands tightly grasped his broad shoulders, and after a particularly deep thrust, I couldn’t help but dig my nails into his skin. Out of instinct, my hips tilted slightly in an attempt to push him away.

“You begged me for this, so keep still and take it like a good girl,” he growled. Wanting more control over my body, he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, his other hand pressing down on my lower abdomen. This new position allowed him to thrust even deeper inside of me. I cried out his name as clung onto his curls. I must have been pulling his hair very hard, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. My thighs began to quiver as my breaths became more shallow.

“My darling Ophelia, who would have thought you would be so desperate for me? Are you going to come again?” I was unable to even answer his question, because at that exact moment pleasure rippled through my body, my walls desperately clenching around his cock. My moans were so loud that I almost expected his hand to clamp down over my mouth and silence me.

“You really are beautiful. Every little noise that leaves your lips is music to my ears,” he whispered against my ear. My left leg had been moved back into its previous position, allowing him to be closer to me. His movements had become more sloppy and his eyes were practically burning into mine. “Do you- do you want me to pull out?” For a brief moment, he seemed as if he were unsure of what he was doing.

“No. I’d much rather you come inside me,” I assured him. I directed his face closer to mine, pressing our foreheads together.

“Ophelia, every touch of yours is so incredibly intoxicating. You set my mind and body on fire.” Tom groaned my name while he came, his cock twitching as he released into me. He stayed close to me for a few moments afterwards, peppering my face and neck with kisses. When he finally rolled off of me, I felt the cold metal of one of his rings brush against my skin. Glancing towards my own hand, I realized that I was still wearing the serpent ring he had gifted me.

#oneshot #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle smut #tom riddle imagine #smut oneshot #smut fanfiction

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jawabear · 3 years

Text

(2) Rule Breaker (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: so here’s the part two of Rule Breaker. It’s a little bit longer than I originally planned and it is also 87% smut (that’s probably not an accurate figure but you get my point). I hope you enjoy it as much as the first part. This one is happier so...yay. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: fem!reader, smutty things, oral (fem receiving), fingering, *slight* arm kink, can you blame me, Bucky being cute, but also hot, Maybe Bucky is a little shy

Summary: Bucky has another name to add to his list of his amends

Part 1

It had been nearly a month.

Nearly a whole month had past and he hadn’t seen her once. She hadn’t called him or texted him. But he hadn’t called her either. He just assumed that she was done with him now after what he did. But he wasn’t done with her.

“So why don’t you call her?” Dr Raynor asked him as she tilted her head to the side a little.

“She won’t want to speak to me” he mumbled as he fiddled with the leather gloves covering his hands.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because of the way she looked at me. She smiled but I could see the pain in her eyes. I told you I hurt her. I broke her heart. Why would she ever want to talk to me again?” Bucky question, Dr Raynor could hear slight anger in his voice, something she hadn’t heard in him before. But he was angry at himself, she could tell that.

“Because, if what you’ve told me about her is true, then she isn’t the type of person to cast someone aside after one mishap. Especially not you. You’ve told me she is a forgiving person, James. And she must care for you as much as you care for her, which I can tell is a lot”

“I don’t think she’ll forgive me” he said to himself.

“As a condition of your pardon, you have three rules to follow” Raynor continued “you broke rule number two. You admitted that to me. So now, you have to make amends”

Bucky didn’t say anything and just looked away. For once he actually agreed with her. He did need to make amends. He needed to fix his broken relationship. Fix her broken heart.

“But what if she doesn’t let me?” Bucky muttered under his breath. He was thinking out loud, but it was also a genuine question. What if she didn’t accept his apology? What if she had moved on? Found someone better than him.

“You won’t know until you try” Raynor shrugged. Bucky let out a dry laugh at the comment. Something he had heard since he was kid. “You either try and make amends, or I have you arrested for breaking the terms of your pardon”

“That’s a little extreme don’t you think doc?” He questioned.

“Maybe you need a little extreme to motivate you to do the right thing” he frowned slightly still not looking at her. “Now, I know I haven’t met her. But I have met you before, during and after being with her. And if I’m being honest, I much prefer the person you were during being with her. And I’m sure you do too”

Bucky could stop thinking about Dr Raynor’s words on his way home. There was truth in them that was terrifying to him. He knew she was right. He would have to apologise to her and make amends for breaking rule number two. But the same questions he had asked himself were still lingering in the back of his mind. What if she didn’t accept his apology, and what if she had moved on already?

It wouldn’t be difficult for her in finding another partner. She was perfect and could get anyone she wanted. But he selfishly wanted himself to be the only person she’s with. He felt a little sick at the thought of her being with someone else. They wouldn’t be able to make her happy the way he did. But perhaps at the same time, they wouldn’t break her heart the way he did.

There were too many thoughts in his head. So many that it got to a dangerous point where he felt his head was going to explode. The feelings inside him were ones he hadn’t felt since his HYDRA days. Things he hadn’t felt since being with her. The feelings of fear, anger, and sadness.

Bucky needed her.

He knew why he needed her. He knew why he wanted her. She made everything okay.

When he was with her, it felt as though he was back in Wakanda. Back in his calm. With her, the world wasn’t moving at a million miles a minuet. It moved as fast as he wanted it to move. With her, he felt like he was in control. He felt like he was truly free.

And he wanted that freedom back. He hated that his thoughts were clouded again like before. He hated that he felt so conflicted like before. He hated that he felt so out of control, so trapped, so alone just like before. Only she could make him better. Only she could make him free.

It was late now. It was dark out but the streets were just as busy as they were in the day light. Such is the way of people. Such is the way of the city that never sleeps. But aside from that, he was far more concerned with the fact that in all his clouded judgment his feet had brought him to place he longed to be. Not his own home, but hers.

He knew the road to her place probably better than he did his own. Her place was nicer than his, for starters, she had furniture. And more importantly, it was where she was.

But now Bucky began to feel panic more than anything. Panic that he was stood outside her door and she was most likely inside. He began to quickly weigh up his options. Either leave and try and forget all about her, or stay and hope for the best in apologising to her.

Knowing that trying to forget her and moving one would be utterly impossible for him, his only other option was to knock on her door and stage out his apology.

His metal hand knocked slowly three times on the wood of her door. And so he waited. While waiting, he mapped out a vague script of what he wanted to say to her. But there was so much he wanted to say to her that it was nearly impossible to try and shorten it down. Especially since at any second she could’ve opened the door.

But when her door opened, all his thoughts disappeared. His script was torn up and forgotten. All his earlier emotions of anger, fear and sadness had washed away. He was just happy to see her again. He was overwhelmed at seeing her again. Not just with happiness, but relief and guilt to go along side it too. It was quite a strange feeling. But what mattered more was that she was there in front of him.

“James?” She said quietly. She didn’t looked angry at seeing him. Or sad. She looked a little confused. And her confusion only increased at what he did next.

He didn’t really know what came over him. Perhaps it was the overwhelming emotions that cause him to do what he did. He surged forwards, taking her face in his gloved hands and pushing his lips against hers in a desperate kiss. He walked her backwards into her apartment, the door swinging shut and locking behind them.

Bucky didn’t know where here was walking her too. Just to the nearest stopping point he guessed. That was her kitchen table. The place where most their monumental moments happened. It was where they had their first date, where they shared their first kiss, where they shared their stories and when they both first said ‘I love you’. And now it would be the home of his desperate plea for her forgiveness.

He pulled his trembling lips from her but still held her face in his hands. He didn’t care about the tears falling down his face, and he didn’t care that he probably looked crazy, his emotions were building up inside him and his words tumbled from his lips.

“I know I...I have no right to be here. No right to be...kissing you after what I did. But (Y/N)...I want you to know how sorry I am. I’m so sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to. I was just...scared. So scared of being in a relationship. Scared of being with you. Being with someone so perfect. I don’t deserve you. But I love you” he sobbed as he began kissing her again “I love you so much. You are what I’m looking for. I only want you. I only need you”

He was expecting her to push him away which is why he was so desperate to kiss her for as long as he could, he was terrified that this would be the last chance he would ever get to be with her.

She did push him away but not forever. She smiled at him and took his face in her gentle hands, wiping away his fast flowing tears that didn’t cease no matter how hard he tried to conceal them. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Bucky” she whispered “even though it did hurt, I accepted your reasoning. I understand that for someone like you, being in a relationship is probably terrifying. I just wanted you to be happy which I why I let it go. But in a selfish way, I want you to be happy with me. Because I love you Bucky. And I’ll always be here to love you. I’ll always be here for you”

Bucky didn’t reply but instead forced his lips on hers again in a more passionate kiss than before. She smiled into the kiss and slipped her arms around his neck. He moved his around her waist and lifted her off the floor, her legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he carried her to her bedroom still knowing the exact path to take to get there.

He lay her in the centre of her bed, putting her down gently carful not to damage the precious being that she was. He pulled his lips off her and pressed a light kiss to her forehead “you do make me happy. Happier than anyone else has” his hands began to wander over her body and she sank into every touch. “Let me show you how happy you make me” Bucky’s voice was lower now and more rough. It sent a small shiver down her spine and she nodded her head making him chuckle a little.

Bucky’s fingers trialled up under her shirt making her shiver at the cool touch of his metal hand against her warm skin. As his fingers moved up her body, he took her shirt with them. Pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side now trailing kisses down her torso making love to every inch of her bare skin.

“I’m never letting you go again...” he whispered before dragging his tongue down the navel between her breasts, silently thanking what ever god there was above him for the fact she had decided not to wear a bra for whatever reason. “You’re going to be stuck with me forever” he smirked as he looked up at her.

Her hands rose to his cheeks and pulled his face back to hers, pushing her lips against his. “I don’t want to be anywhere else” she muttered against his lips before he shoved his tongue into her mouth.

He hummed against her lips as he licked all the inside of her mouth reclaiming what was his. Her fingers threaded themselves into his soft hair gently tugging on the strands as his tongue still continued its journey inside her wet cavern.

Cool fingers slid back up her sides and the black metal fingers began circling her nipple before pinching it and making her squeak “Bucky” she said breathlessly as he pulled back from her lips looking a little too proud of himself.

“I’ve still got it” he joked making her laugh before he kneaded her breast in his hand. Her head rolled backwards giving him prime access to her luscious neck that he loved so much. Bucky waisted no time in attaching his lips to her neck, sucking on that perfect spot while still gently squeezing at her breast. Her hands fell to his shoulders, gripping them lightly as she pressed her knees against his hips, trying in vain to suppress the wetness forming between her legs.

(Y/N) curled her fingers, rolling the fabric of his jacket in them making her groan a little. She wanted to feel him again. But not with this jacket on, not with his shirt on either. But she was far to content in the lush feeling of the way he so expertly made love to her neck. His tongue massaging her skin before sinking his teeth into it and them going back to rubbing his tongue over it. It was a pattern. A cycle. One that she desperately loved.

But right now, what she would love more than that, was to see that well built body of his. “Bucky” She hummed as she began pushing at his shoulders slightly, a signal for him to pull away. When he did, he looked down at her in concern, worried he had done something wrong.

“What is it?” He asked quickly. Her hands slipped down his front, unzipping his jacket as they went before she slid her fingers up under his shirt tracing the outline of his abs.

“I want to see you..” she whispered dangerously close to his lips. He let out what could only be described as a growl before shrugging off his jacket before sending it off in the same direction as he had her shirt. He sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head before flinging that too to the slowly growing pile of clothes.

When entering her bedroom, he hadn’t bothered to turn on the light. So the only light that could be seen was that from the hallway of her apartment and the light from the bustling city outside. Both made his body glow like a god. He was simply heavenly.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. It was now her turn to show him some love. She peppered wet kisses all over his chest, paying more attention to his collar bones, knowing he loved it when she kissed him there. He let out a gasp of almost relief at getting to feel her lips on his body again. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he relished in the feeling of her lips and tongue everywhere on his torso and her hands everywhere else.

But as much as he love it, he had to stop her. He was the one who had to make it up to her. He was the one who had to make amends. Bucky brought his hands down onto her shoulders and pushed her away from him, looking down at her as she looked up at him.

Quite the sight she was. The patched of wet on her neck from his kisses shone in the dim but colourful light from the city. Her eyes were somehow both innocent and devious. And her lips were parted, letting out soft pants that fluttered against his skin.

“This is about you, doll” he whispered to her in a low voice as he carefully pushed her back down onto the bed “this is only about you” she didn’t answer him with words but just gave him a kind look which he took as a sign to continue.

And continue he did.

Once again, his mouth fell on her skin, moving further and further down her body. His fingers hooked into the waist band of her pyjama bottoms making sure to get her underwear as well before effortlessly pulling them down and tossing them to the pile. Now leaving her in all her naked glory. Bucky got to his knees again and looked down at her. She was the heavenly one to him. Glowing like a goddess. Shining like a queen. And she was all his. Bucky smiled at the thought before shuffling further down her bed and slowing himself between her thighs, now face to face with her glistening wetness.

“Oh baby” he whispered, more to himself really. He slipped his arms around her thighs to pulled her closer to him. His tongue slipped out past his lips and teased her clit making her whimper as her finger slid back into his hair. He did thins a couple more times before giving her what she wanted.

His tongue flattened between her folds making her moan and arch her back into the air. “Bucky..” she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair. Her voice trailed off into desperate gasps, rolling her hips into his mouth. He didn’t try to stop her. He was just as desperate for her as she was for him.

His arms tightened around her thighs holding her closer to him, his face now literally buried between her legs eating her out like a starved man. But in some respects he was, he was one month starved of her. He was going to make up for that lost time.

Bucky’s mouth had now fully engulfed her mound making her writhe with pleasure under him, moaning his name and digging her nails into his scalp making his groan in response, the vibrations sent more pleasure coursing through her body. His tongue swirled round and round her clit.

She cried out his name when he sucked harshly on her sensitive bud, her hips bucking up against his mouth “fuck...Bucky..” she panted. But Bucky didn’t respond, he just carried on eating his month overdue meal.

It wasn’t long before she felt her climax approaching. This she didn’t need to vocalise. Bucky could always tell when she was close without her having to say a word. So he went harder making her mouth fall open and her hands go limp in his hair as pleasure consumed every inch of her being. He hummed along with her breathless moans and slowed his tongue, working her through her climax before removing his mouth from her and slipping his arms from her thighs.

“Was that good?” He asked. A rhetorical question. He knew the answer already.

“Yes...” was all she could say, her body still reeling from the intense pleasure.

He kissed his way back up her chest and ghosted his lips over her “do you want some more?” He whispered roughly making her body tingle. (Y/N) couldn’t answer him with words, nor any action. All she could do was whimper in agreement, but that was good enough for him.

Bucky’s fingers wandered back down her sides as he pushed his lips back onto hers in a deep and slightly sloppy kiss, his tongue wasting no time in intruding into her mouth, not that she was in any fit state to deny him access anyway. (Y/N) could feel the cool metal fingers dance along her slick folds and she instinctively spread her legs a little more.

“So you do want more?” He asked with a dark chuckle as he pulled back from her lips again. She looked up at him through her lashes and hazy eyes.

“Yes James...” she whispered knowing what it did to him when she said his name. It drove him crazy. This whole venture had caused great strain in his boxers, he was rock hard but he knew he could hold out for a little longer. He still didn’t feel he had made amends yet.

He sat back in his knees again and ran his hands along the curves of her body, bringing them both between her thighs and dragging both thumbs between her folds. The contrast of his warm flesh and his cold metal thumbs was simply divine. It was making her head spin as he continued to massage her pussy. It was so dizzying that she almost missed his question.

“Which one do you want?” He asked her. She knew it was in reference to which hand she wanted him to finger her with. Ideally she wanted both but she had always favoured his left. Something about that metal arm could work wonders that nothing or no one else could.

(Y/N) brought her hands to his shoulders and glided her right hand down his left arm. The look in her eyes was indication enough that his left was the one she wanted, although, he could’ve guessed that before he even asked. His flesh hand rested on her stomach to hold her hips in place as he sunk two cold fingers into her heated core.

She let out a strangled moan and reached out for his wrist as he began pumping his metal fingers in and out of her soaking pussy. Her eyes bore into the almost black metal of his vibranium arm. She hadn’t, in their month apart, forgotten how much she loved his metal arm, but her memory had failed to replicate just how amazing it made her feel. She became a whimpering and moan mess under his touch, incapable of saying anything other that splutters of his name.

Bucky looked down at his treasure with fond and almost proud eyes. Proud that he was able to bring such a strong willed, beautiful woman down to such a submissive being. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she became utterly at his mercy, she was completely speechless and practically breathless as well.

He didn’t go fast, but he didn’t go slow either. He always knew the perfect pace to set to drive her crazy. His fingers were still just as dizzying as before and she was rendered completely useless under his touch. But that was what he wanted. He wanted her to feel the best she possibly could. He wanted to make her feel the best she possibly could. And he almost was. Almost.

“Bucky...please..” she pleaded.

“Please what baby?” He asked, twisting and turning his fingers inside her making her face twist and turn with pleasure.

“I want...fuck...I want you...” she managed to say. Bucky hummed lightly to himself and eased his fingers out of her, placing her fingers on her clit and guiding them round in circles. She looked at him in confusion but he only smirked down at her.

“I don’t want your pleasure to end, doll” he told her before reaching over to the beside table knowing there would be condoms in there. He was right. He fished one out and took it between his teeth before momentarily climbing off the bed to rid himself of his bottoms layers of clothing.

She watched him with keen eyes as he undressed himself, her fingers still circling her clit as thoughts began to fill her mind of what was to come. With his clothes now gone, he ripped open the foil packet and slipped the item onto his solid length before climbing back onto the bed. He gave her a final look to make sure she was still okay. (Y/N) nodded her head a little, giving him the go ahead.

Her fingers stopped and there was a brief moment between them before he began pushing himself inside her making them both groan in pleasure and relief. “Fuck..” he hissed “I forgot how tight you are”

“Hmm...and I forgot how big you are..” she said, her fingers stroking over his v-line as he continued to sink himself into her.

He let out a long breath as he finally bottomed out in her. He felt weak but in a good way. Perhaps a better way to describe it would be relaxed. He fell onto his forearms either side of her head, his face right up close to hers. “I love you” he whispered.

“I love you” she whispered back with a soft smile. Her hands dropped from his hair falling flat on the pillow, he took it upon his to entangle his fingers with her, gripping her hand lightly as he began to slowly roll his hips along hers.

Out of all the things she loved about Bucky, this was near the top of the list. Not the sex as such. The fact that he always wanted to hold her hands as he fucked her. No matter what position it was, he always found a way to have at least on of her hands in his. She didn’t know why and she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t know if he was really even aware that he did it and she was afraid that if she asked then he would stop. But she guessed that perhaps it was a comfort thing, because it definitely brought comfort to her.

Her room was soon filled with the sound of skin on skin, whimpers, pants, moan and groans, and the sound of them whispering sweet nothing and words of praise to each other as his hips gradually began picking up their pace.

Bucky was in heaven. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to be inside her. To have her slick walls pull him in. She was utterly divine. Despite this though, he didn’t much like hearing the sounds he was making. So he buried his face in her neck again in an attempt to muffled his noises at least. It worked for the most part. She was making him feel so good that he couldn’t suppress his noises, but now the sounds of her were really the only ones he could hear.

And they were music to his ears. Sweet, sweet music as her fingernails dug into the back of his hand. He had now established his pace. Not too fast, not too slow. Not too hard but hard enough to ensure he hit that spot inside her perfectly every time. He wanted her to forget about everting else and just remember this. The here and now. And he though the best way to do that was to send white hot pleasure coursing through her veins, making her see stars and making his name the only thing she could say.

That was most certainly the case. It felt as though her body was on fire. His hips angled perfectly to hit that special spot every time. And his smell. That wonderful smell of his only heightened her pleasure. Filling her nose and making her dizzy. Everything about him was dizzying. But in the best possible way. She wouldn’t have it any different and she certainly wasn’t willing to let him go a second time and risk loosing him forever.

Bucky’s hips seemed to falter briefly as he let out a weak moan, his arms shaking a little too. He was close. And so was she. Both of them were squeezing each other’s hands as he drove his hips just that little bit faster and harder into her, his breath coming out in hot, fast pants against the wet skin of her neck. “(Y/N)...Oh fuck...(Y/N)” he moaned against her.

“B-Bucky...James...come with me” his body shook from hearing his name fall so sweetly off her lips. He managed to pull his head from her neck and slammed his lips down onto her, he always wanted to be kissing her if he could when they came. Just another one of the many things she adored about him.

His breath picked up even more and his fingers began to flex in hers before he rolled his forehead onto hers, their pants of pleasure mixing. He let out a somewhat strangled moan as he came, she followed closely behind him, her walls flexing around his throbbing length as she arched her back into his chest, he knees digging into his waist again.

He began to slow his hips, bringing them both down from their glorious highs. His lips found hers again in lighter kisses. “Fuck...” he whispered “god you’re so good..”

“Me?” She giggled “it’s you who’s the good one”

“Well..” he began between kisses “it takes two to tango I guess”

She all but burst out laughing at this “oh wow!” She said happily making him smile brightly “you are something else Mr Barnes. And I love you for it”

“I love you for a lot of things. That pretty laugh and beautiful smile for one” he told her. He released his hands from hers and slowly pulled out of her before getting off the bed and padding to the bathroom to discard his condom. Whilst he was doing that, (Y/N) sat up, her body still relishing in the pleasure, and leaned over the bed to fish out his shirt before searching for a clean pair of underwear to put on. She also pulled out his boxers knowing he slept in nothing else but them.

She laid them out on the bed before climbing under the sheets and waiting for him to come back. Thankfully it wasn’t long. He walked back into her room in all his naked glory. Her face burned as if she were a teenager seeing a naked body for the first time and not a person who had just been fucked so beautifully by said naked man.

Bucky spied his boxers and picked them up of the bed muttering a thanks as he slipped them on and slipped into bed next to her. Before she had a chance to attempt to snuggle into him, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her neck, holding her flush against him.

For a while, there was a silence between them. It was Bucky who finally broke it by taking in a long breath and letting it back out.

“(Y/N)” he said quietly to her as she slowly ran her fingers through his soft hair. She hummed in response “I really am sorry...for what I did. I don’t really know what I was thinking-“

“Bucky, don’t” she stopped him from continuing his pointless apology “I’ve already forgiven you and I was never angry with you in the first place. I told you already. I understand your reasoning. But I don’t want to hear you apologising any more. It’s in the past. Now, I just want to spend each day with you”

“You will because I don’t want to leave you and I don’t want you to leave me. I want a constant in my life that isn’t just regret or pain. I want happiness and love. And only the happiness and love that you give me”

“I don’t plan on ever letting you go that easy again Bucky. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me”

“Perfect”

15/04/21

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #tfatws #marvel #sebastian stan #angst #fluff #smut #fanfic

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Text

Be Mine (06)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death, Trauma, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury, Oral Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Feelings

Notes: Welcome! Here is chapter 6! I apologize for the wait, but this is how things are going to be from now on, I'm afraid. I just started my second semester of college and I'm drowning in work. Please don't expect more than a chapter a week :/ I hope you understand that I'm trying my best. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

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Niragi wakes up with the sun, light seeping into the room through the blinds that no one cares to close. His whole body hurts like he has been hit by a meteor. Not quite though, but sure feels like it. He keeps his eyes close as your scent hits his nostrils; you smell like vanilla and strawberries. It’s so sweet, he has to control himself every time you’re near to not bite you. And now you smell like him too. No more of that disgusting toothpaste and dirt stench Chishiya left on your skin. Only sweetness and warmth.

Fucking Chishiya. The bastard had tried killing him, he had no doubt about that. The way the wolf drove him right into that trap; he was lucky he didn’t get his paw cut off right there. He was also pretty sure he had fucked you just to piss him off. He cursed himself from being so stupid; he should know Chishiya would try something while he was away. But after your first night together, he had to leave. All these messed up and foreign emotions inside him; he couldn’t deal with those. After he saw your back and all his trauma came tumbling through, he needed to leave that room. He needed to think.

So he left, got drunk, came back to the room, and vaguely remembers making you a promise; like a stupid boy in love. He bailed as soon as he woke up.

Before he noticed it, he was playing game after game, getting as many cards as he possibly could. He almost died several times, but he kept doing it. He couldn’t sleep either, his nights filled with nightmares. He wondered what he was doing it for. Then he realized; he was doing it for you. To take you out of this place. It had been instinctive to try keeping you safe. You had no idea how getting away from you hurt him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be close. He kept eyes on you though; he could never stay away completely. There was always someone watching.

Then Chishiya happened, and none of that mattered. You are his, and he will make sure everyone knows it.

Fuck, how he hates that white-haired sociopath; his fingers tingle to shoot him every time he’s on sight. But he simply never had the chance. The man didn’t bother him half as much as he does now. Your arrival has changed everything.

You ended up in bed after sex, somehow managing to get out of the bath. If he was honest with himself, fucking you had been a struggle; everything in his body hurt, and he could barely think through the fever. But it was so worth it. He had almost forgotten how amazing your scent is, how your soft skin tastes, and how your warm pussy clenches around him in time with his thrusts. It was perfect. You’re perfect.

He opens his eyes to stare at the top of your head, your body nestled against his side. You sleep soundly, soft breathing raising the arm he has over you. Your whole body presses against his, and he can feel himself getting hard again. He can’t wait for you to be in heat; he will waste no time in knotting inside you and marking you as his. Then he will get you out of this fucking country and make sure to give you the best life he can.

These thoughts are foreign to him; he had no idea an Omega could awake those kinds of instincts. Before he met you, he had no interest in romantic relationships; every relation he had with a woman was either professional or straight-up sex. He wasn’t the caring type; he isn’t the caring type.

Not that he will ever tell anyone this, but it terrifies him.

Now he caught himself wondering about what you like, how he can protect you, and how you feel about him. Fuck, he even imagined what it would be like to have a family with you.

He notices how your tone changes every time you mention family. He hadn’t expected the fact that your own father had given you those scars, but it added up to your refusal to bond and accept your true nature. Still, he can’t avoid the images of you pregnant with his child from popping up in his mind every time he’s inside you; it only makes him come harder.

Fuck, he’s painfully hard.

You stir against him, leg rising over his hip. Damn, how he wishes he could turn you on your back and fuck you till you’re a moaning mess without it bringing him agony. It borders on annoying how much his wolf craves yours. It’s such a powerful, almost impossible to ignore, instinct.

He just has to have you.

His hand slides down your back, fingers lightly touching the skin until he reaches the curve of your ass. Your skin is so soft and warm; he never touched anything like you. The sensation he feels when you touch is electrifying; addicting. He can’t get enough. Is it his wolf or his own feelings? He gives your ass a slight squeeze, smirking when you make a sound between a moan and a sigh. His hand slides a little lower until his fingertips are touching your pussy lips. His smirk gets wider; you’re already wet, and he barely had to touch you.

You whimper when he slides his fingers inside, your hips moving against his side almost immediately. He lets out a small laugh, his other hand rising to palm your breast. You push even more against him.

“Niragi…” you moan. The hairs on his body rise up as he feels your lips on his skin, kissing and licking his chest. He starts pumping his fingers in and out of you; he bets he can make you come just like this. After that, he will make you come on his cock, just like the night before.

Your moans fill the room as he keeps fucking you, fingers stretching you and massaging your velvety walls. The hand on your breasts rises to touch your lips, and you’re sucking on his fingers before he even has to ask. Fuck, your mouth must feel great around his cock. He decides right there that you won’t leave the bed until you suck him dry.

“Sit on my face,” he orders in a deep voice. You look at him with semi-open eyes, lips full, mouth open in a moan. He’s pulling your face in a kiss before you can utter a word, “I want to fuck your mouth while making you come on my tongue,” he whispers against your lips. He watches you hesitate for a second before moving into the position he told you to, legs spread on either side of his head, wet pussy right over his face.

Your scent hits him like a truck; is mouth-watering. He might be wrong, but something tells him you’re close to your heat; that makes him so hard he feels dizzy for a second. He gives you an experimental lick, waiting for your reaction, chuckling when you whimper and your thighs shake. His arms go around your legs to grab at your ass, spreading the cheeks for easier access. His tongue is inside you not long after, licking and thrusting and slurping as you move your hips over his mouth.

Niragi’s brain almost stops working when you put his cock in your mouth without warning. He freezes, lips still on your clit, moaning as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Fuck, your mouth is heaven. Nothing can compare to your pussy, but your tongue pressing down on his shaft is pretty damn close. The slurping and gagging noises you make only excite him further, and he’s back at lapping at your dripping cunt.

“I- I want you inside me-” you whine as you stroke his cock, now slick with your spit. His only answer is a slap to your ass and a harder suck on your clit. You gasp at the joined sensation, arching your back as you rest your head on his thigh. A second slap, this time harder, makes you cry out.

“Use your mouth,” Niragi says with a light bite to your inner thigh. He didn’t tell you to stop. “Don’t stop until you’re swallowing every drop of my cum.”

Your mouth goes back to his cock, sucking him and licking him even harder than before. He can’t stop himself from thrusting into you; he needs more. Two of his fingers go inside your pussy at the same time he gives his full attention to your clit. The sounds you make as he sucks you and fingerfucks you are music to his ears; it’s the only thing he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

“Niragi I’m- ”

“Keep sucking,” he interrupts before you can finish talking. He knows damn well you’re about to come; he feels it on the vice grip you pull on his fingers. His movements get more experimental; he wants to find the exact spot that will make you scream.

He’s sure he found it when you almost bite down on his cock, body falling on top of him when your legs give up on you for a moment. He grunts in discomfort before warning, “I’m gonna stop every time you stop. Keep sucking, or you’re not coming.”

You do as he says, and he resumes his new found pace. You squirm above him, but he keeps fucking you with his tongue and fingers, waiting for your orgasm to explode. He feels his own getting closer, a pulling sensation on his pelvis barely letting him concentrate on you.

You finally come with a scream around his cock. He keeps going, lapping at your cunt like you’re a fountain and he hasn’t had water for days. The vibrations of your voice make him come right after, surprising both of you. You choke for a moment as you try to swallow all of his cum.

He’s not done though; not quite yet.

“Ride me,” he says after a moment where you both try to regain your breath. Another thing he can thank his Alpha status for; he’s pretty sure he can fuck you nonstop for hours. He grunts in slight pain as you try to change positions, your wobbly legs making it harder to move. He’s already half-hard again, and it doesn’t take you long to sink on his cock.

Fuck, your pussy is just the warmest and tightest hole he has ever fucked. His hands go to your hips, immediately forcing you to set up a pace. His body still hurts like hell, but he doesn’t care. Nothing matters but you above him, mouth open in pleasure and tits bouncing as you impale yourself up and down on his cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he can’t resist the impulse to praise you. Your eyes flash with content, and he knows you love it. “Fucking me like that, so wet and tight. Such a good Omega.” Your lips are on his with a moan, and he smiles into the kiss, teeth softly biting your lip. He accepts your body on him, even though his injuries burn. It doesn’t matter, they will heal. You keep moving on him, his cock filling you to the brim.

Images of you round and pregnant with his child, tits full with milk, pop again into his mind. He can’t control himself; he will make it into reality one day. His hips snap harder against you, and you clench even harder on his cock. He feels like he’s going insane; his wolf is howling to get out and possess you like the beast he is.

“Say it, who do you belong to?” he snarls between kisses and licks to your neck, “Tell me, who’s your Alpha?”

“Y-you are- ” you manage to say between whimpers of pleasure. “Alpha- “

“Say my name!”

“You- Niragi, you are-”

“That’s right,” his teeth graze the skin of your marking spot, and you shudder. He’s so close.

His teeth sink on your shoulder for just a second, but it’s enough. His orgasm feels like an explosion of pleasure, and he swears he goes blind for a moment. Together with the euphoric sensation, comes something he wasn’t expecting. It’s like a faint echo of emotions that are not his; he’s pretty sure of that. They’re yours.

He opens his eyes to stare into yours, gaze filled with something he can’t recognize, but he can feel. A mix of euphoria, care, adoration, and… fear; apprehension, to be more exact. He doesn’t quite understand the last one. Why would you be afraid? He’s here to protect you, says his wolf.

All those emotions freak him out. The man is terrified. It’s too much again. He swiftly but carefully pushes you off of him to the side, and he curses himself as he feels the faint emotion of shame and rejection. Now that he’s fully conscious, this was a bad idea. It’s too much. Took years of work for him to be able to put his feelings under control; and then here you are, filling his head with your unruly emotions and thoughts of babies and marriage.

That’s not him; it never was, it never will be.

Biting you was a mistake, he thinks for just a second, before the mere thought of denying you makes him want to slap himself.

You could kill her, a voice suggests in his head, for just a millisecond, barely there. He has to control himself to not gag at the thought; he would rather kill himself than put a hand on you.

“Are- are you leaving again?” you ask in a faint voice. He’s sure you can feel him as much as he can feel you, and he tries to push your presence away from his mind. You’re not supposed to be in his head.

No one is, not even you.

He only stares at you, noticing the faint bite mark he left on your shoulder. The expression on his face is probably not the best, because you swiftly cover yourself when you notice his gaze. He sighs, before shrugging with a chuckle.

“You’re the one in my room,” he says, fighting the urge to cringe. The words are out before he can second guess himself more. “Why should I be the one leaving?” The expression on your face and the emotions that he feels in his mind are almost too much to bear. He tries to hide them as best as he can but knows he’s unsuccessful when you scowl at him, a shine in your eyes.

“I know what you’re trying to do, so stop lying!” you’re on the verge of tears, and it makes his heart ache, “You have no right to say you want me and then push me away.”

“A lot of talk for someone who has been denying me since we first met!” he snaps back. He knows his words are hurting you but that’s what he wants; hurting others is familiar, hurting others makes sense. “What, you think you’re the only one allowed to have second thoughts? And what made you change your mind so fast uh, especially after you fucked Chishiya like a bitch in heat? Is my dick that good you fuck-”

Your palm hits his cheek with a sharp sound.

He was expecting it; he could feel it coming. You stare at him, tears streaming down your cheeks in an otherwise cold expression. But he can feel your sadness and anger. He’s reaching for you out of instinct before he can stop himself; to comfort you. But he was the one who hurt you. Part of him wanted to push you away, while the other part abominated the simple thought of it.

“You’re clearly well enough to take care of yourself,” you say as you get dressed in haste. Your tone is ice cold, but he catches on the slight tremble of your voice. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling; he knows he will stop you from leaving if he moves or looks at you, “Stay away from me,” you say over your shoulder as you slam the door close.

He wants to shoot something. Like, really fill something, preferably somebody, full of bullets. Or kick someone until they’re vomiting blood. Or just do something, whatever it is, to take his mind out of you,

But his head hurts and he can barely get out of bed. So he just lays there, hating himself and blaming everyone else for what he just did. He messed it up; he wanted to mess it up. He hates himself for it.

He has to go after you.

No, he doesn't. He doesn’t need you or wants you close.

Yes, he does.

He makes a frustrated sound before making an effort to stand up. His foot is still the thing that brings him pain the most. Most of his body is bandaged up, but he doesn’t need half of those anymore; most of his injuries are either healed or halfway there. He tries to get dressed as fast as he can, which is not saying much.

He’s about to leave to go after you when there’s a knock on the door. He opens it to see one of Hatter’s men.

“What the fuck do you want?” The young man just gulps while looking at him; at the rifle in his hand, more specifically.

“Uh, there's uh- there’s an executive meeting,” says the guy with a gulp, “They’re expecting you.”

“I’m busy, now fuck off.” He gets out and closes his door, pushing the man aside. Oh, someone give him the strength not to shoot the messenger. He starts walking when the man speaks again.

“Hmm, it's about the Omega...”

He doesn’t waste time answering, walking down the hallways as fast as he can without making his limp noticeable; he has a reputation to maintain after all. He catches your scent all the way to the meeting room and he knows he will find you inside.

He opens the door to find everyone already there, now looking at him. He keeps his head high, eyes locked on you sitting against the wall. You have been crying, he can see that. Your eyes are down, but your emotions are clear to him, now that you’re close to each other again. Disappointment, fear, shame.

You’re fucking scum, his wolf whispers to him. Yeah, he is.

He takes his usual seat at the table, at Aguni’s left. He can feel your eyes on the back of his head, and he has to control himself to not look back. Hatter is saying something, but he’s not listening; he doesn’t care. Chishiya sits in front of him, and just the sight of the man makes his blood boil. His finger twitches on the rifle’s trigger; with a simple click, the biggest of his worries will be gone. His eyes are suddenly on him, and the man smirks. Niragi has no doubt he knows what went on; everybody else in that room has at least an idea.

Your name being said snaps his attention to Hatter’s words.

“- Ann said. And I agree,” the man says, “You’re smart, you’re fast, and you’re alive. I think that qualifies you for a lower number. You can even become a militant if you want, I’m sure Niragi-”

“No-” you suddenly interrupt, “I mean, I’m fine with just going on games and helping Ann with what I can.” You sound hesitant, “If that's okay with you…?”

Hatter’s smile brightens, “Of course Y/N, whatever you feel like doing. You got the right to it, after all,” he says with a nod. “Also, nice work at the Ten of Spades, guys. From what Chishiya told me, you were very close to dying, Niragi.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, I wonder why…”

The rest of the meeting passes by in a blur. He can feel the occasional gaze on him, but no one tries to call his attention. He’s too focused on trying to get a grasp on his messed up emotions, while also trying to understand yours at the same time. You’re trying to hide from him, but he can still feel you in the back of his mind.

A nudge from Aguni snaps him back to reality, and he realizes the meeting is over. He looks behind him, but you’re already gone. He stands up with a grunt of pain and follows you; he needs to talk to you. He rounds a corner to find you speaking with Chishiya. You immediately sense him close, turning around to face him. Chishiya gives him a condescending smile before whispering something to you and walking away. It would be so easy to shoot the man in the back; what is stopping him anyway? He raises his rifle just an inch before your hand snaps and pushes the gun away.

“Stop that!” you say, eyes locked on his.

“You know he tried to kill me, right?” he says, lowering the rifle. “I’m just trying to return the favor.” He tries to touch your arm, but you take a step back. It hurts him more than he cares to admit, “What were you two talking about?”

“About how you rejected me and practically kicked me out of your room after we had sex,” you say, a bite to your words he doesn’t fail to notice. He can feel your anger. “He offered to take care of my problem for you, isn’t that so nice of him?”

The fuck he will. He grabs your arm and pushes you against the wall, hand firmly around your throat. He can’t feel your fear, and it only makes him angrier.

“I’ve been way too good to you,” he doesn’t really mean the words that come out of his mouth. He tries to control his shaking hand, “If you choose him, I’ll kill you both. Don’t fucking try me.”

Your eyes never leave his. He can feel a spark of rebelliousness in you. It both excites him and angers him even more.

“I’m not choosing either of you,” you say. He knows you’re not completely sincere either, “You can suck each other’s dicks, for all I care. I’m done with both of you.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle, “You seem to forget that I can smell you.” Your eyes widened slightly, “You have what, three days before you’re in heat? What makes you think I’m gonna let you get out of that one unbound? Because I won’t, and that fucking dog sure won’t either.”

“Fuck- “

“-You?” he says, nose grazing your neck. He can feel your pulse fastening. “I will, you can bet your fine ass on that.” He can sense the confusion in you. He’s confused too; part of him wants that connection that only a bonded couple can have, while the other fears everything that comes with it. But he’s mad, he’s in pain, and he wants you. He does.

So he kisses you. You taste and smell like him, your scents mixing perfectly; it’s addicting. He can’t get enough of you. He forces his tongue inside your mouth and you let him, arms going around his neck to play with his air. One moment you’re pushing against him, the other you’re pushing him away.

“No, this is madness!” you exclaim. He sees the unshed tears in your eyes, “I’m not doing this anymore, get off me.”

“Y/N- “

“Don’t touch me!” you swat his hands away, “I told you before and I’m telling you now;l,” you’re fully crying, tears streaming down your face, “I am not going to have the miserable life my parents had! You made your choice earlier, now let me make mine!”

“Y/N I- “

“No, shut up and listen to me,” you point a finger at his chest, and he has to control himself not to touch you. “I understand how overwhelming this is for you too, but you have no right to say the things you said to me. Unless you’re here to apologize, I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m not a toy, Niragi.” He looks away, somewhere above your head. He can’t bring himself to say it, even though he knows you’re right. “If this is the behavior I can expect from you in a relationship, then forget it,” you say in a low tone, stepping away. “I’ll be in my room if you decide to apologize.”

He sees you walk away; he knows that following you will only make things worse. He never felt that he needed to have this much control over himself. Before you arrived, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted with no consequences; he could fuck, drink, kill, and torture as much as he wished. Now he can barely do anything without being afraid of what you will think of him. He wants your approval and acceptance more than ever, and it pisses him off.

“Having trouble with the Omega?” he doesn’t have to turn around to know that is Last Boss. He nods once and the man proceeds. “Want help persuading her? Make her more...compliant.”

Niragi considers it for just a second before shaking his head. He might not know you well, but he knows you more than you think; ‘persuading’ you would bring him nothing but a headache. Why couldn’t you be the submissive and shy Omega they talk about in books? It would make his life so much easier.

But he does enjoy a challenge. Winning your heart and body is more than enough motivation for him.

Even if he has to fight himself to have you.

Next Chapter

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #niragi fic #niragi x reader #also on ao3

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

A Sea of Fragments V

Word Count: 2,635

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: I don’t know how I went so long without updating! Honestly I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Things are starting to get dramatic, and I’m upping the ante a little bit. As a treat.

Scaramouche exited the dining tent as quickly as possible, storming off towards his tent with urgency. He hated eating around other people; the noise, the insipid conversation, the amount of imbeciles trying desperately to get in his good graces. It was agony, and the sooner he got away from it the better. Besides, he had something vastly more important to do this evening.

Entering his tent Scaramouche took some odd sense of pride from the fact he had beaten you to it. Sitting down in his chair he sighed, propping his head up with his hand and allowing his thoughts to drift for a moment. He had to admit that he was incredibly curious as to what he was going to witness today. He had already gotten a glimpse of your ability during your first meeting, but between the tense atmosphere and the barbed conversation he hadn’t been able to really focus on what exactly you were doing. Your terrible physical state at the time certainly hadn’t helped, as you had looked as if you were going to faint any moment. Scaramouche was glad there would be no fear of that this time.

What must it be like to look into the future? Scaramouche had to admit that he envied your ability slightly. Though you had seemed less than enthusiastic about it, Scaramouche couldn’t believe that you truly begrudged the ability to see into the future. If you did then you were surely a greater fool than he was already aware of. Even with your revelation that it was hardly an exact science as to which future would happen, even the slight ability to see what might come to pass would be an incredible asset to the Tsaritsa and her goal.

Besides, Scaramouche couldn’t truly bring himself to believe that your bedraggled state had been solely due to seeing into the future. How much energy could be expended by sitting into a chair and closing one’s eyes? In a world of war and battle and death the idea that something so still could be so taxing was absolutely ridiculous. No, there was no reason for him to worry, or for him not to begrudge you something that was so obvious a blessing from the Seven.

“Scaramouche?”

Your voiced pierced through the air, pulling the Harbinger slowly out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how engrossed he had been in his own musings, and the sudden pull back to reality cause irritation to once more surface within him. He quickly managed to push it down however, the reflexive annoyance replaced with an anticipation that couldn’t be completely hidden. Gesturing for you to sit in the chair across from him Scaramouche sat up straighter.

“Is there anything that must be done before we begin?” The Harbinger wasn’t used to such pleasantries, but this time he figured it was probably worth asking. Seeing you shake your head he nodded curtly. “Good. Then shall we begin?”

“If you insist,” you mumbled, voice lacking it usual sharpness. The nervous feeling that you emitted the first time he saw you in the forest appeared to have returned from out of thin air, and you shifted in your seat awkwardly.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just, I just need to relax.”

“Take all the time you need.”

You shot him a look with very little behind it. Breathing in deeply you closed your eyes, letting your head tilt backwards slightly. Sitting back in his chair, just realizing that he’d been leaning forward this whole time, Scaramouche watched as your breath began to slow and you appeared to drift into some sort of trance.

Closing your eyes you willed your mind to emptiness. From the moment you had entered the Harbinger’s tent once more you’d been seized with anxiety. You never wanted to be in this position again, divining for others, taxing yourself over and over for goals and wishes not your own. Not to mention the identity of your current employer; Scaramouche’s Harbinger status aside relaxing in front of this man seemed nigh on impossible. Letting your eyes flit this way and that you didn’t even bother to try and look him in the face. Not when what you were about to do loomed over you.

Looking into the future was bad enough, doing it in front of Scaramouche was even worse. You tended to lose control of yourself while looking into the future. Falling out of furniture, mumbling things randomly, all those things were possible. And though the people in your village had gotten used to your half-trances you were sure that Scaramouche wouldn’t quite appreciate you accidentally faceplanting into the table or sliding onto the ground the way the people you had grown up in proximity to would.

Letting yourself sigh once more you allowed your conscious to fade, shoving aside all those problems to deal with it later. The present would always exist, but for now you had to cast your eyes upon the possible futures. The world darkened around you, turning into a sea of stars which fell down, down, down. Letting yourself tumble around you finally saw fragments begin to form in front of your eyes. Stretching out your hands you reached for the one that seemed to shine the clearest, reached for the best outcome that you could find. Always start with the clearest ones first, for the muddier the fragment, the worse the suffering, the more energy must be expended. It was information that had been extracted after years of trial and error, and now you let it guide you as you sought out what you needed to know.

You were standing in a deadly quiet room. Paper doors surrounded you, the moonlight filtering through them casting long shadows, making it look like you were trapped in an odd sort of prison. If so, it was a very cozy prison. All the hallmarks of domesticity were there; pillows thrown this way and that, books shoved into various nooks and crannies on a small shelf, a table which housed various small clay figures. There was a hallway to the right of you, and from it you could hear the faint sound of snoring. Taking a few steps forward you studied the small shelves hammered into the wall, trying to look for something that seemed to house a great deal of elemental energy. Letting your elemental sight guide you, you slowly turned around.

At the other end of the room was a small table. Upon it was a small red cushion, and upon the cushion was a mirror. The circular glass was surrounded by an emerald frame, dotted with small gems and cracked in certain spots. Though it might have appeared like an ordinary enough family heirloom you could tell that it was infused with power, a power so great it seemed to be leeching the rest of the energy around it, a black hole, warping the fragment around it. Taking a step back, afraid of it even in this imagined future, you felt the energy become even stronger, even more corrosive. Blinking slowly your eyes finally removed themselves from the scene.

Looking around at the other fragments around you, you tried for the next clear fragment. In it you found yourself wandering the streets of the village, right near the inn where you had been hiding out until recently. Although nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary initially you were soon pulled towards the rooftops. You could see a Fatui recruit, though which one you were hardly sure. Clad in black their face was a sharp contrast to the night around them, pale and twisted into a frown.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. What am I going to tell Lord Scaramouche? Where is it? Where is the damn thing?!” Sighing the Fatui member climbed back down from the roof, something not very difficult as the building was a rather squat one. Running into the night you saw him look back once. The village was as silent as ever.

You pulled yourself back into the liminal space around you. Looking around at the various fragments scattered about you felt yourself frowning. How many there were! It would take ages to find such specific information as where the mirror was located. Letting yourself drift you closed your eyes. You would just have to pick one at random. Reaching out your hand you felt the cool shard of a fragment against your fingertips. Opening your eyes you let out a strangled sort of noise, faced with one of the darkest shards floating around you.

What you were transported too was absolute chaos, chaos and a crushing weight pressing upon you. You weren’t supposed to be seeing this, you really were supposed to be seeing this. Stumbling around you tried to focus on one thing. The noise, that was the best thing at the moment. Ignoring the flames that licked at the houses and ground around you, the fleeing people and the choking smoke, you tried to pick up on any piece of information.

“Did you manage to get it before it went up into flames?”

“Fuck, no I didn’t! Did you see that house? No one would fucking survive something like that!”

“I’m not sure if we’re going to even survive.”

“Fuck, no this isn’t how I wanted it to end. I didn’t even get a promotion.”

“You three! Stop dawdling and get out of here! We’ve already caused enough trouble.”

“The village is a goner anyways.”

“Glad it’s not, fuck, glad it’s not mine.”

The voices faded into the cacophony, quickly replaced with more unpleasant sounds.

“Mama!”

“Did you see my husband?”

“No, I have to get back in there!”

“Your books are a fucking goner.”

“Come on sweetie, you have to move. I know, it really hurts, doesn’t it? Come on sweetie, we’ll get something to make it better, but you have to move.”

Voices piled on top of one another, roaring and mixing together. Opening your eyes you stared as people rushed all around you, some covered in soot, others nursing horrific burns. The noise was louder still, the weight crushing the air out of your lungs. Clapping your hands over your ears you felt your mind start to go blank with panic. You needed to get out of here. You needed to remember how to get out of here.

A muffled sound seemed to reach above you. Looking up into the burning sky you reached towards it, almost as if you might tear through the papery-thin night back to safety. Taking a deep breath you tried to open your eyes, to go back into the space that you usually occupied. But the weight was so large, the distortion so strong, you found yourself trapped, as if in a nightmare. The sound called out again and you continued to reach towards it.

Please. Please.

“…”

Scaramouche watched as you seemed to collapse in on yourself, tumbling out of your chair and onto the floor, barely missing the table in front of you. Your breathing was ragged, irregular, and you seemed to be trying to say something. Panic gripped the Harbinger, blood rushing to his ears. Pushing himself out of him own chair he knelt down next to you.

“Hey, hey!”

Shaking your shoulders he went to pinch your arm. You skin seemed to be cold to the point of heat, and you made no move of recognition as his nails dug into your arm. Shaking his head Scaramouche tried calling out one more time.

“Wake up. Can you hear me? Wake up!” Shaking your shoulders once more he tried to suppress the panic that seemed to be driving him, though his thoughts were in such disarray he couldn’t be entirely sure whether or not it was working. A myriad of things leapt through his mind; his plan was going to fail, the effort took in tracking you down appeared to be worthless, were you really going to die? Surely you wouldn’t. He needed you for his plans. Besides, the idea of you dying seemed somewhat terrifying, lying in stark contrast to all the other people that Scaramouche had used and thrown away. The idea of your death seemed much more visceral, much more real.

“Hey. Look at me. I told you that you never even look at me. Open your eyes and look at me. Weren’t you supposed to be blessed by the gods? You can’t even look at me.”

Scoffing Scaramouche glanced towards the tent. He was going to have to call a healer at this rate.

The sudden feeling of someone grabbing his wrist caused the Harbinger to hiss. Looking back towards you he found his eyes met with yours. You seemed to be half wild with, something. Scaramouche couldn’t tell what lay behind the look in your eyes, but it surely seemed something close to panic. Breathing heavily you let out a whisper.

“It’s going to tear you apart.”

“What are you talking about?” Scaramouche felt anger rush through him as the situation seemed to crash into him. “Is that normal? What in Teyvat happened.”

“The mirror, the thing, it’s not normal. It… it warps everything around it. I, I can’t go back again. I can’t look again, I can’t find it again. It’s too heavy; it’ll tear everything apart.”

“You’re not making any sense! Tell me, is this mirror what we’re looking for? Where is it?”

But you said nothing, instead letting your grip tighten on Scaramouche’s wrist as you stared at him. The intensity of your gaze seemed to throw cold water on the Harbinger for a moment, and he quieted down. Everything had gone unexpectedly, what was he supposed to do now? A part of him simply wanted to haul you up and push you out of his tent, towards the healers or towards your own tent he didn’t care. Another part of him however wanted to ask you if you were alright, wanted to know what had frightened you so much, wanted to know why now suddenly you were staring into his eyes, almost as if you were trying to divine his thoughts. The more you looked into the future the odder you became, and the more Scaramouche found himself unable to understand you.

“Do, do you need a healer.”

“No. Just, let me breathe, just let me breathe for a moment.”

You closed your eyes, placing one of your arms on top of your forehead. The grip on Scaramouche’s wrist lessened and you let your arm slump to the group, fingers curled slightly against your palm.

Scaramouche wasn’t sure what caused him to do such a thing, whether it was fear of you having another episode or something else. Yet before he was entirely aware of what he was doing he placed palm on top of yours, allowing it to rest there for a moment. Your hand felt warm against his, still slightly clammy from what had just passed. He couldn’t necessarily call it comfortable, but he nevertheless didn’t draw away.

Staring down at you the Harbinger wondered once more what you had seen. More than that he thought about your expression when you woke up. Expression panicked, eyes wide, gaze full of fear and urgency and something else. It seemed to be the first time you had stared him right in the face without hesitancy. Were your expressions always so intense when you looked someone directly into their eyes? It was uncomfortable, but it always also something else, intriguing, or something like that.

He wondered if you would look at him directly again. He wondered if your words were truly worth heeding. And once more he once more wondered why he, a Harbinger, would kneel in the dirt and trampled grass to make sure you woke up.

#genshin impact fanfiction #scaramouche x reader #Scaramouche #genshin Scaramouche #genshin impact #series #my writing

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 17 (22 Pages)

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Nia and Tobias track down their first outlaw!

TW: Blood/Injuries

“What’s up with you today?”

Nia jumps, looking over at Tobias in surprise. “W-What?”

The charmander huffs out an irritated puff of smoke, focusing his gaze on the scenery of the dungeon they’re in. “You’re all mopey. Have been since last night.”

“Oh.” Nia hops over a small rivulet of water, weighing whether she wants to tell the truth or not. It’ll probably just make him mad, considering who she’s worked up about, but she doesn’t wanna lie to him either. “I uh. I think I upset Xander yesterday.”

As expected, the charmander rolls his eyes. “That‘s reason to celebrate, not mope.”

“Tobias,” Nia warns. “You’re being a jerk again.”

Tobias grumbles something under his breath, but then says, “Fine. Whatcha do?”

Nia fiddles with the branch she’d picked out for her weapon today, spinning it in her fingers with clumsy movements. “That’s just it. I’m not really sure? M-My aura reading came up in conversation so I was just telling everyone how their aura looks, and when I told Xander he got all...quiet. Avery had to take him out of the room.”

“Did he even want his aura read?”

“Of course!” Nia says, giving Tobias a frown. “I wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t asked.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, and as the two of them walk, eyeing the walls and clefts of the rocky terrain for hidden ferals, Nia assumes he won’t. Then, he mumbles, “Maybe he didn’t like what you found.”

Nia’s ears flick back. That’s more or less the conclusion she’d come to as well. But all she’d told him was that his aura was red. Emotional, passionate. Why would that bother him so much? Sure, he always seems so calm and collected and with such an emotional aura he must have to work hard for that image, but it can’t just be that. She knows Tobias won’t know any better than she will, so for now she just sighs and moves on.

If she were in a better mood, Nia bets she’d really be enjoying the dungeon they’re in today. Apparently the mystery dungeon popped up in a small rocky riverbed, a bit scarce in terms of foliage, because the mystery dungeon itself has grown into a canyon-like labyrinth. Rocky brown stone, sunbaked and pale, and small streams of water flowing through the dungeon’s halls and rooms. Nia’s paws feel a bit rough from the scratchy, hot rock underfoot, but occasionally she steps into a shallow stream to cool down.

More than once she thinks she sees something move above her in the streams’ reflection, just a brief flicker of movement, but every time Nia looks up, the canyon walls are empty. She’s probably just paranoid about the outlaw. Hopefully. There aren’t any other signs they’re being watched, so she must be imagining it.

As for Tobias, he seems torn, probably enjoying the heated rocks and warm day but clearly hating the water he has to jump over and climb around. Still, this is the first dungeon they’ve been to since their reconciliation a few days ago, and despite the tension in his body he’s doing a good job of keeping things civil.

“So you said we’re capturing an outlaw? Uh, how exactly does that work?” Nia asks, trying not to sound as nervous as she feels.

Tobias jumps and heaves himself up onto a large rock blocking the narrow path, claws scrabbling, before turning to answer. “Criminals like to hide in mystery dungeons to avoid getting caught. So we have to track this guy down, knock him out, and take him back to the guild.”

Nia, branch tucked into the strap of their exploration bag and busy trying to haul herself up the stone, asks, “W-Wait, so he’s not feral?”

“Nope. Just an idiot who robbed a seed patch nearby.”

Nia slips with a yelp and slides back to the ground. She shakes out her stinging claws and glares up at the rock. “Dang it!”

Tobias snorts a laugh, looking down at her. “Am I gonna be called a jerk again if I decide to just sit and watch you struggle? Because it’s pretty entertaining.”

Nia groans. “I can’t help that I’m not built for climbing! I’m a dog for God’s sake.”

“What in Entei’s name is a dog?”

“If you help me up, I’ll tell you!”

Tobias rolls his eyes but dutifully stretches out on his belly, reaching his arms down. Nia backs up and takes a running leap at the stone. She hits the hard surface, and before her dull claws let her slide back down, Tobias grabs her wrists, yanking her up. Nia pulls herself over the top, plopping down to catch her breath.

“Ugh, I hate climbing!”

“Good, ‘cause you suck at it.”

Nia shoots the charmander a playful glare. “Hey, I used to be great at climbing trees when I was human! At least I can still swim.”

Tobias looks downright offended. “I’m a fire type!”

“And I have a dog body. We’re even.” Nia sits up, rights their satchel and retrieves her branch, then follows Tobias’ grumbling as he slips down the other side of the boulder and back onto solid ground.

They continue down the path (What floor are they on now? Fourth?), and after a few moments Tobias speaks up again.

“So?”

“Uh. S-So what?”

“What’s a dog?”

Nia blinks. “Oh! You actually wanna know?”

“Not really,” Tobias growls, “But these stairs are impossible to find and the ferals are hiding from the outlaw, so you might as well tell me. I’m getting bored.”

Nia hides a smile and looks up to the sliver of blue sky she can see between rocky canyon walls. How does she even explain something like this?

“Well...in my world, there are humans, and plants, but there are also things called animals. I would say that Pokémon are...mostly like humans? You’re smart. You can talk and you have a society and stuff. But most Pokemon look more like animals. Fluffy, or scaly, or resembling certain body types. Like...you look like a lizard, kind of. And I kind of look like a dog.“

“A...lizard?”

Nia nods, encouraged by his thinly veiled curiosity. “Yeah! Um, there are different kinds, but they all have a similar shape and stuff. Four legs, low to the ground, long tail, scaly. Um...you’re kind of like a two-legged version? Lizards definitely can’t breathe fire, though.”

“So I’m like a lizard but a lot cooler,” Tobias surmises.

Nia laughs, loud and caught off-guard. “Pretty much, yeah. Animals aren’t, uh, seen the same as humans, though. They aren’t...lesser, really? But they’re...different. They think differently. More simply, I guess. Lots of humans keep certain kinds of animals as pets.”

“‘Pets?’” Tobias echoes.

“Yeah! Like partners, kind of. Y’know, in their homes. They take care of them, and in return they get to watch them grow and bond with ‘em. They become companions, even if they might not think of us the same way.”

Tobias doesn’t answer for a few moments, carefully skirting around a puddle. “So the, uh...the animals don’t get a say in the matter?”

“Oh.” Nia stops, brow furrowing. “I mean...I guess not? But it’s almost like potting a plant in your house. As long as the animal’s happy and its needs are being met, it doesn’t really matter? Most house pets don’t really have a concept of like...captivity? I don’t think so, at least. I guess some smarter ones do, like monkeys.”

Tobias shoots her a look that’s surprisingly uneasy. “That still sounds unfair.”

Nia sighs. “It’s hard to explain when you don’t really have a concept for animals. Like, maybe dogs would’ve been a better example. They’re pack animals to start with, so when we take care of them they become part of our family, and they see us as their pack. They’re really happy with humans. It’s harder to tell with things like lizards or snakes or something, but dogs and cats definitely bond with humans like their own species.”

Tobias frowns, but not in the way that says he wishes Nia would shut up. This one looks more thoughtful. Nia doesn’t mind this frown as much. Eventually, he seems to settle on, “Humans are weird.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But the Pokémon world is still ten times weirder.”

Tobias snorts. “Hardly.”

“You have sentient trash bags, Tobias! And creatures that can use psychic powers! That’s not normal!”

Tobias cracks a grin. “Wait until you see a cryogonal or Mr. Mime for the first time. Now those are weird.”

Nia stares at him, surprised by the teasing and almost friendly tone of his voice. “Did you just say a ‘Mr. Mime’? As in that’s what an entire species is called?”

“You’ll know one when you see one.”

From there, the conversation dies off into a strangely comfortable silence as the two of them continue through the dungeon. Nia had almost forgotten where they were with how casually they were talking. The ferals of the dungeon still seem to be hiding from the outlaw (and that doesn’t make Nia nervous at all), but occasionally they hear one scrabbling along the stone just out of sight or growling in the distance.

They climb to the next floor, and then the next, and even there the ferals are still and silent.

“A-Are you sure we can handle this outlaw?” Nia whispers

Tobias rolls his eyes. “The mission was on the E-rank board for a reason. We’ll be fine.”

Nia nods, not any more assured than before. “H-How will we even know what they look like?”

“The mission said it was a panpour, idiot—" Nia shoots him a frown, and he softens his harsh tone. “Uh. Blue water type. Can stand on two feet? Long tail and big ears. Fuzzy. Plus, they won’t be feral.”

“R-Right.”

From there, the tension in Nia’s body only grows. It’s one thing to fight ferals that are clearly out for her blood, Pokemon that feel more like rabid animals than people, but fighting an outlaw...

The two of them round another corner, and before either can react, a huge spray of water slams into Tobias. The charmander is thrown back with an uncharacteristic cry of pain, into Nia, and the two of them tumble to the ground in a heap.

Nia’s first to stagger back to her feet, shaking her wet fur and looking up to find what must be the outlaw darting into the narrow canyon hallway where they are. He looks like a blue...monkey? Slightly smaller than her and Tobias, but fast. Maybe the most startling thing is how coherent the monkey looks, eyes flashing not with a mindless aggression but with an expression of intentional malice.

“You two are Seekers? You’ve gotta be kidding me—I heard you from across the map!”

The monkey braces himself and rears back, cheeks puffing. Nia barely realizes what he’s doing in time to jump between the next spray of water and Tobias’ shaky form. The water slams into her like a fire hose, and she grits her teeth and tries to stay on her feet as she slides back. She never knew water could sting so badly!

The attack stops, and Nia looks back to the monkey with wide eyes, panting. Except he’s gone, leaping past and behind them again—

“Gotta move,” Tobias gasps out, finally getting his legs under him.

“What?”

Instead of answering, the charmander grabs Nia’s arm and runs for the room the monkey had come out of. They barely make it in before another jet of water is shot at them from behind. They fling themselves off to the sides, to the safety of the room’s walls, wild eyes meeting.

“We’re not trapped in such a tight space here,” Tobias explains, seeming like he’s finally caught his breath again. Nia’s still a little shaken by how a single water move hurt him so badly, but nods.

“N-Now what?”

“We beat him into the dirt!”

The monkey comes barreling into the room, skidding around with a grin. “Good luck with that, kiddos.”

Tobias lunges forward with a snarl, but Nia hesitates, watching as the monkey dodges the charmander’s slashing claws and tail whips with nimble ease. Tobias only spares a puff of small embers here and there to throw the outlaw off, focusing more on physical attacks.

The monkey shoves Tobias away from him, then claps his hands together. In an instant his body is glowing a bright blue (and in a moment of confused panic, Nia thinks he’s using aura). But then a cloud of shining blue water sprays out and around the room. The air feels damp and misty now. Tobias snarls, then goes back to madly swinging at the monkey, no longer using his flames.

The monkey dodges and weaves, takes a moment to time his shot, and then spits a strong jet of water straight into Tobias’ face. The charmander makes a pained sound and stumbles back.

Then the monkey turns to Nia, smirking. “So what’s with you, pup? Just letting your partner do all the work?”

Nia swallows hard and takes a step back, holding her branch in front of her like a sword. Her heart is roaring in her ears and her stomach feels knotted up. This feels different than fighting ferals, somehow. She still doesn’t know how to fight anyways, not really, not with just a few lessons, and it’s one thing to counter mindless ferals, another entirely to be able to hold her ground against someone like this! This is like...an actual person!

“Nia, snap out of it!” Tobias growls, lunging at the monkey again.

The charmander is clearly wearing down, but Nia can’t seem to unfreeze herself, staring at the fight in a panic. This is so different. This isn’t defending someone—or yourself—from a rabid animal, this is willingly going toe-to-toe with a criminal.

She can’t do this. Not on a physical level or an emotional one.

With a few more nimble dodges, the monkey is once again shoving the charmander away and blasting him with a water move. Tobias falls to the ground and doesn’t get back up.

The outlaw turns to Nia, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m actually a little offended that the guild thought you two could bring me in. What is this, your first day?”

Nia doesn’t answer, gripping shaky fingers tighter around her pathetic weapon. Her eyes flick nervously from the outlaw to Tobias, and she knows he’s not dead or anything, his tail flame is still flickering, but seeing him so still in the dirt is making her chest tighten with fear. She doesn’t want to see anyone hurt, not even a criminal, but she’s already grown a bit fond of the sharp-tempered charmander and he can’t do this on his own so she has to fight—

The outlaw must be sick of waiting for her response, because the next thing she knows she’s being blasted into the wall by a painful jet of water. Her head bounces off the canyon wall, but she stays on her feet, shaking her head to get rid of the stars in her vision. As she does, she sees the monkey grin.

He’s enjoying this. Enjoying hurting them.

Fighting ferals is one thing—they don’t know what they’re doing, they aren’t actively, consciously trying to hurt people. And in a way, that’s easier. But this guy? This guy’s just a jerk who stole some items and is beating up two teenagers for fun, getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of it. Yes, he feels more like a person than the ferals, but doesn’t that just make it worse? That he’s doing bad things intentionally?

Suddenly, her fear feels a lot more like anger.

The monkey goes to attack again, almost lazily, and the riolu moves, pushing off the wall. She sprints for the monkey, taking him by surprise and swinging her branch around to slam into his stomach.

The monkey staggers back with a wheeze, and for a split-second Nia hesitates. He didn’t react how ferals do, didn’t just shake off the hit with an inhuman growl and a counterattack. He’d grabbed at his stomach, grumbled under his breath like a person, and something about hitting him so solidly, seeing the damage she did to him, it still throws her off even through her adrenaline rush.

And now the monkey’s angry, wiping at his mouth to glare at her. “Oh, so you were holding out on me, huh?”

He darts forward, and it’s all Nia can do to keep his claws and sharp teeth away from her body. She’s on defense now, smacking away attacking limbs with her branch and stepping steadily back, keeping her eyes focused on the monkey’s body and letting her peripheral vision react to the lightning-fast strikes like Val taught her. It’s terrifying and doesn’t even leave her time to think about what she’s doing, her body working fully on instinct.

It’s a little bit exhilarating, too.

But then the monkey’s hands change target, grabbing Nia’s branch and yanking it out of her hold before she can register what’s happening. In one swift movement, he snaps the branch in half and chucks the pieces over his shoulder. Then he lunges at her again, and she barely manages to catch the monkey’s hands in her own. Her head snaps up to meet his grin a heartbeat before he blasts her with another water attack. The move knocks her back and off her feet, and she rolls to the side to avoid a follow-up attack.

The monkey just keeps coming at her, and she’s scrambling back to avoid it, thoughts racing, about to block a hit to the face when something small blurs past her vision to hit the outlaw right on the forehead. He shouts, staggering back. Nia sees what looks like a little yellow seed tangled in his short fur, taking root on the skin of his forehead.

“Idiot.”

Nia jumps, turning to see Tobias padding over, worse for wear but still standing. Then she remembers what she’s doing and falls back into a defensive stance.

Except the monkey is staggering around in circles like a drunk man, falling this way and that in a desperate attempt to regain his balance, tail flailing. He’s frowning, blinking hard like he’s trying to concentrate.

“Totter seed,” Tobias explains, shooting Nia a wicked grin. “Dumb ‘mon left his stolen goods sitting over there in the corner.”

Nia’s mouth falls into a little “o” of surprise. “So he’s confused now, right?”

The outlaw grunts and shoots off a vicious jet of water that makes Nia and Tobias flinch even though he’s facing the wrong direction.

“Yup. Let’s finish this since you finally got yourself together. Why do you always wait until I’m beaten to a pulp before finally fighting back?”

Nia barks a laugh, beyond relieved to feel back in control of the situation. “Let’s call it a lesson in ego.”

Tobias snorts and moves to attack. Nia, not wanting to get in his way, positions herself on the other side of the outlaw, so the monkey is left staggering between the two of them. Without his wits about him, the outlaw’s speed is useless, and he flails weakly in the wrong direction as Tobias slams the smaller Pokémon with his tail and sends him towards Nia.

She takes the opportunity, uneasy about using her own fists instead of a weapon. But no, Val’s been teaching her how to punch and kick, so she needs to try to use that knowledge. She goes with a set of punches before shoving the monkey back Tobias’ way. The feeling of hitting solid warmth--fur and muscle and bone--with her own two hands is unnerving, but she tries her best to ignore it as they bat the outlaw back and forth. It’s like the world’s weirdest and most violent game of monkey in the middle, with a literal monkey as the ball. Nia almost laughs aloud at the thought.

Of course, the outlaw chooses that exact moment to blink out of his confusion, used seed falling to the dirt. The monkey bares his teeth, beaten and bloody and livid, then turns and grabs Tobias, swinging the charmander around and flinging him into Nia. The two fall with a pained yelp into a tangle of limbs.

The outlaw is breathing hard, clearly hurting but not willing to give up the fight. As Nia and Tobias rise back to their feet, side-by-side, the riolu takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of the charmander at her side in the heat of battle. For maybe the first time, she thinks she understands what it means to really feel like a team, to have a real partner.

Then the outlaw dashes forward, and the two of them move at once, bumping into each other—her arm jabs his side, he steps on her foot—and in the confusion the monkey bowls into them both. Sharp, blinding pain shoots through Nia’s right bicep, and she cries out, kicking at the outlaw whose jaws are locked around her arm in a vice grip. She rolls, claws, even tries to manifest her aura, but he just sinks his fangs in deeper. She feels blood gush out, hot and slick.

God, it hurts.

Then, there’s something else tugging at the monkey, and she squeezes her eyes open to see Tobias with his arms around the outlaw’s middle, his own teeth latched around the monkey’s shoulder and tugging hard.

Finally, the monkey is ripped free, and Tobias throws him away. Nia presses a hand to her injury, but keeps her eyes squinted open to watch eye the outlaw. The monkey manages to land on his feet, then tries to leap forward again. Nia braces herself.

“Back off!” Tobias snarls.

And then all she sees are blinding purple flames, beautiful and hot even from a few feet away, engulfing the monkey with a flare of light. Nia watches, breathless, as the ball of flames lands hard, smolders, then slowly putters out. The outlaw’s body is left charred and black in the dirt, and Nia only breathes out when she sees the faint rise and fall of the monkey’s back. For a moment there, she’d thought Tobias had killed him.

“You okay?”

Nia jumps, then looks over to Tobias, crouched down at her side and frowning. His expression is odd, somehow. Pinched.

“W-What was that?” She asks, awed voice raspy. It takes her a moment to realize that she must’ve been screaming when the outlaw was biting her, because her throat feels a bit raw.

Tobias blinks. “The fire? I, uh. I think I might have learned dragon rage?”

Nia’s eyes widen. “Dragon rage? That’s sounds awesome!”

Tobias’ expression finally breaks into something lighter, amused. “It is awesome. Now stop stalling, show me your arm.”

Nia hadn’t been meaning to stall, but now she wonders if she even wants to see what the monkey’s sharp teeth did to her. With a hiss, she slowly removes her hand, now sticky with blood. She can feel her heartbeat pulsing at the wound.

Tobias sucks in air between his teeth.

“T-That bad?” She asks, voice wobbly.

“‘S not pretty,” he admits. “Here, hang on...”

Nia watches as Tobias leans close and rummages through the satchel still hanging around her shoulder. He pulls out an oran berry, frowning.

“I thought we had two?”

“W-We did.” Nia had packed them herself.

Tobias looks around, then groans, slumping. Nia follows his gaze, recognizing a smear of smashed blue pulp in the dirt. Great. Must’ve fallen out and gotten stepped on in the scuffle.

“Well, at least eat one,” Tobias says, lifting the berry up to her mouth.

Nia leans back. “But you’re all banged up too, and—“

The charmander rolls his eyes, but there’s less venom in the gesture than usual. Maybe it’s the exhaustion weighing on them both, but Nia would almost say he looks concerned. “My skin’s stinging and I’m exhausted, but I’m not bleeding out through my arm. Eat it.”

Nia hesitates, but takes the berry, chewing it up and letting the sweet tang burst over her tongue. As soon as she swallows, she already feels a bit better. Tobias scoots closer, reaching up to hold her arm with one hand and feeling around the bite with the other, intensely focused. He’s gentler than Nia thought he’d be, but she still winces at the pain.

“The worst of the wound is closing up, but we should probably still staunch the bleeding,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“W-Would my scarf work?” Nia asks.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Is it in the bag?”

Nia nods, and Tobias rummages through the satchel again with his now-bloodied hands, finally bringing out the red scarf that the riolu has had for weeks. She actually wants to wear it now to symbolize their newly remade team, but she’s still not sure where to wear it. The collar of fur around her neck is just so darn fluffy!

Tobias tugs at the material as if to test its strength, and then nods, satisfied. He scooches around Nia again to get a better look at her wound.

“Don’t move,” he says.

Nia hums an affirmative, closing her eyes and trying not to think about the blood she can feel all over her arm, tacky as it starts to dry. The charmander carefully arranges the scarf around her bite, circling the material twice, before pulling it tight.

Nia flinches and almost tugs her arm away. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” Tobias grumbles, still focused on his work. “Hold still.”

Nia tries to, sniffing back pained tears as the charmander ties the scarf into a knot. When he’s done, he leans back. “How’s that?”

Nia looks at the patch job, a little amused and a little nauseous seeing the bright red scarf against the darker crimson blood staining her arm. That’s gonna be a pain to get out of her fur. She gingerly moves her arm back to her side, slowly bending it to a lax position. It definitely still stings and the muscles are probably bruised, but...

“Much better,” she says, meeting Tobias’ eyes with a shaky smile. “Thanks, doc!”

The charmander rolls his eyes, but his face flushes red and embarrassed as he pushes himself back to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get this loser back to the guild.”

Nia struggles to stand, a bit woozy, but nods. “Right.”

Tobias gathers up the stolen bag of seeds, finds their badges in their satchel, and pulls the charred monkey onto his back, lip curled in disgust.

“You really did a number on him,” Nia says quietly, impressed. “You said that move was...dragon rage? Did you just learn it?”

Tobias shrugs as well as he can with the outlaw on his back, looking uncomfortable. “I guess. That happens as your battling experience goes up and you get stronger. Definitely handy that I learned a dragon type move after that water sport he pulled.” He pauses in the middle of sending out a pick-up request via their badges to give Nia a look. “Speaking of—what’s up with you not using actual moves? I thought you would have adapted to fighting hand-to-hand by now.”

Nia sighs and glances at what remains of her makeshift weapon, lying discarded in the corner of the room. “I guess I really should stop depending on a weapon so much. Didn’t do me much good today.”

“No, not that,” Tobias waves her off. “I mean, yeah, that too, but even when you were punching, you weren’t using moves. You were just using basic body attacks. Why?”

Nia blinks at him. “Uh. What do you mean I wasn’t using moves?”

The charmander blinks back at her. “You…you didn’t know you weren’t?”

“I thought I was! I was punching a-and kicking and stuff! That’s what fighting types do, right?”

Tobias opens his mouth to explain, but then seems to reconsider and just heaves an exasperated groan. “We need to talk to Val tomorrow. Arceus, I thought you just weren’t using ‘em for some dumb personal reason, not because you didn’t know how to use them at all.”

Nia’s ears pin back. “I...I thought I was using them.”

“And I haven’t seen you two spar much since I’ve mostly been with Azami, so Val might not even know that you don’t know…” Tobias trails off, more to himself than to Nia. “We’re talking to her about this tomorrow. It’d help if you actually knew how to use your moves. And how to not freeze in battle until I’m half dead.”

His tone is harsh, but lacking the old bite it used to have. Nia still whines and buries her face in a hand, embarrassed. “I’m sorry! I promise it’s not on purpose. It just really caught me off guard, fighting a Pokémon that wasn’t feral.” Nia tries to latch onto something other than everything she’s apparently doing wrong. “A-At least we can tell Azami about your new move tomorrow too, right?”

Tobias nods, looking the faintest bit proud. “True.”

Their conversation is cut off as one of the retrieval psychics at the guild calls them back in a beam of light. Nia’s stomach flips, and when they land back on solid wood, the riolu collapses to her knees.

“You aren’t gonna pass out, are you?” Tobias asks, frowning at her.

Nia squeezes her eyes shut, fighting off a wave of nausea and lightheadedness. “N-No, I don’t think so. Just the blood loss, I’m pretty sure.”

There’s the quiet murmuring of voices, and the shifting of Tobias handing off the outlaw to the psychic type. Some more talking, and then the charmander’s light footsteps return to her side.

“Maggie’ll have some spare oran berries lying around if you can get back to the room.” Tobias says. He sounds a little awkward, like being any form of encouraging with his words is physically making him uncomfortable. Nia almost smiles.

“I...I think I’m fine.” The riolu blinks open her eyes, glancing around. The psychic type taking care of their case (not an abra, but an adorable, green jelly-like Pokémon who is shooting her worried looks) has the unconscious monkey chained up in psychic bindings, presumably to wait for law enforcement to take the outlaw away. At least, that’s what she guesses. She’s never done this before. Are there Pokémon police? Are they the police? She needs a badge. Wait, she has one of those.

“Okay, c’mon, before you pass out on the floor,” Tobias grumbles, hesitating before wrapping a warm arm around her back to help her to her feet. Nia stumbles, then slowly allows herself to put some of her weight onto Tobias. The charmander slings her uninjured arm around his shoulders, face flushed with embarrassment as he pointedly avoids her gaze. Then, the two start their arduous trek up the stairs to Maggie’s quarters.

Once or twice Nia considers thanking the charmander for helping her like this, but he’s already burning with embarrassment—quite literally, he feels hotter than normal—so she lets it be.

“Maggie’s gonna be so mad,” Nia mumbles when they’re nearly there.

Tobias has relaxed enough (or is maybe just exhausted enough) to snort a laugh. Nia can feel it rumble through his ribs, pressed against her side.

“She’s gonna be ticked at both of us,” He agrees. “I don’t know why she always throws such a fit when we get hurt. It’s part of the job.”

“Occupational hazard,” Nia agrees with a tired smile.

The two are silent the rest of the way, and sure enough, as soon as they step through the door, Maggie descends on them with all the worried wrath of a mother scolding her terrible, danger-prone children.

Nia relaxes and lets herself be babied. Her chest hurts just as much as her arm, something in her finding Maggie’s motherly worry familiar and comforting, in an aching, longing sort of way, so she lets the meganium fuss over her injuries. She’s feeling far too fond of the situation, really, as she watches Tobias stubbornly shooing Maggie away from his own wounds. It’s nice, to be cared about. To have somewhere safe to come home to.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #panpour #charmander #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

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mareebird · 3 years

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If The Sun Should Tumble From The Sky Sylki; T+; 1.8k Words

Link to Ao3

The Ark collapsed, rending the sky with pink fire. The sound was deafening, and then there was no sound at all, and Loki stood transfixed. He wondered, once again, if he’d deluded himself. Had he really thought they might make it? Believed they had a chance? Had fighting his way to the massive ship been an act of desperation or pure insanity?

Haltingly, his breath caught up to him, as he gathered himself from the brain down: his neck, his chest, his belly, his legs; Loki came back together piece by piece, and then he could finally move.

He turned and saw vacant air where Sylvie had been, and his blood ran cold. Loki kept turning, circling the street, his eyes pointed down before he dared to look up. The possibility that she’d already been crushed by a chunk of the planet was, unfortunately, entirely possible. He’d just seen hundreds die at once. The two of them were going to die, too. What if he was already alone?

But no rocks had fallen on the little plaza where he stood and Sylvie wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Loki’s eyes narrowed on the way they’d come, the trail they’d blazed. He began walking back. There was no other way out. If she’d gone this way, he’d find her. And if he didn’t, then maybe it was for the best that she finished her life in some semblance of peace, without him.

Loki passed the rubble beneath the building he’d thrown back into place and stopped for a second, knowing he didn’t have a second to spare, but the feat deserved a moment of brief reflection.

“How the fuck did I manage to do pull that off?” Loki muttered, reflectively.

Then, it was through the bar. The cloak Sylvie had dropped wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It was possible she’d picked it up as she passed, Loki theorized, but maybe someone had scurried it off into the alleyway, keeping warm during their last few minutes of existence.

The air was neither warm nor cold, actually; damp, but somehow light, like walking through mist. Although breathing too deeply caused Loki to cough, so maybe what he felt was the ash in the air.

A single, lonely drink stood on one of the bar tables. Loki picked it up and threw it back, not caring what it was as long as it did the job. He tossed the glass over his shoulder as he went outside and down the steps. He could see the entrance tunnel, now. The fires in the trash cans were still burning. The city would be flattened before anything else put them out.

That was when he saw Sylvie’s footprints for the first time—the only markings leading out of a city where everyone else had been rushing in. Loki followed the trail down the hill, into the valley of the mine. Finally, he saw her, sitting on a large piece of debris that had cracked into two, staring in the direction of the falling planet, although not actually looking at it. Her gaze was falling somewhere else. Somewhere beyond.

Loki sat down on the other piece of rock, realizing that he was selecting the spot where he was going to die. And that Sylvie was sitting where she was going to die. And it was all his fault.

She looked noble, sitting like that, facing the falling planet with her chin tilted up. An Asgardian quality, possibly.

A deep ache in Loki’s chest began to spread outward.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She had every right to hit him—again. Every right to draw the sword on her hip and run him through. Instead, Sylvie nodded. There was no anger in her gaze, at least none directed at him, just resolution and grim acceptance of her fate. She’d known she’d been playing with fire. She’d wanted to burn down the TVA. Exploding along with it had always been a risk.

Loki had to turn away for a moment, as looking at her quickly became agonizing. It had never been his intention to bring them here. In reality, he hadn’t really known what he was doing. He’d seen an opportunity, made up a plan, and pushed EXECUTE on the TemPad.

He’d only wanted to put distance between himself and Renslayer. Taking Sylvie along hadn’t been accidental, but it was secondary to his plan—although when he’d dropped through the Doorway and onto that bed, and realized that she was beside him, Loki’s first thought was that he’d done something right . Safely hidden within an apocalypse, they’d be free to talk, and talking to Sylvie was, somehow, going to solve all his problems. One way or another, it was going to get him in front of the Time Keepers.

But now, Loki couldn’t think of a damn thing worth saying.

“I remember Asgard,” said Sylvie. “Not much, but I remember. My home, my people, my life…”

His eyes flicked back to her, locking in, now unable to look away as she calmly shared the story of her life—a surprisingly short tale for someone who must have been born the same time as he, though what did Loki know? And maybe the story wasn’t short, it was just heartrendingly succinct: a life spent running. A sad, lonely life, narrowly escaping death after death, teaching herself how to grow up, how to use magic. Entirely self-taught. Alone. Surviving among the damned and the doomed.

No attachments. No family. Just Sylvie.

Loki shook his head, sick to his stomach as thought about his pampered life. For centuries, he’d had a family, a home, and whether they’d ever truly been his seemed like a moot point, in light of his approaching death. He’d had good things at his disposal. He’d had comfort. He’d never actually wanted for anything, even if none of it had satisfied him.

Though he supposed that meant, ultimately, that he’d only been as lonely as Sylvie.

A sizable rock landed in the pool of mining refuse water before them, sizzling and smoking before it sank. There were so many rocks above them that it was impossible to see the stars. The pink sky, which Loki had thought rather beautiful before, had bled out all it’s loveliness.

And yet, Loki couldn’t help but marvel at the drama of everything unfolding, fire-trails of meaning in the midst of chaos, of death arriving in slow motion. Every other death in his life had been sudden and swift, though time was little more than a construct now.

Loki’s brow tightened. How could the TVA watch this moment unfold again and again and treat it like plastic spinning in a snow globe? Something to toy with, or to set on a shelf?

He wondered if Mobius was looking for him, or if he had deluded himself into thinking the man cared. Even if he had, surely all that good will had dried up once he saw Loki run through the Doorway after Sylvie. Not that Loki could blame him for that, he supposed. It had just been...difficult to watch the betrayal splash across Mobius’s face.

Though it was possible he’d imagined that, too, Loki conceded; maybe Mobius had never trusted him. But Sylvie had. After ruining her plan and getting into a drunken brawl and breaking her TemPad, she’d still voiced her trust, as though her understanding of his motives was instinctive and innate. They’d become a team without realizing it.

“Do you think what makes a Loki a Loki is the fact that we’re destined to lose?” asked Sylvie, interrupting his thoughts.

Loki almost chuckled at that. Almost. He was beginning to think what made a Loki a Loki was that they were the only beings capable of understanding one another.

“No,” he said, after a moment. “We may lose. Sometimes painfully. But we don’t die. We survive.”

It wasn’t an attempt at comfort. They were going to die. Imminently. Mobius wasn’t about to burst out of a Doorway and rescue them. The TVA had no idea where they were, and even if they did, perhaps it was better to die here, somewhat free. Not alone.

Death and failure weren’t the same thing. Sylvie hadn’t lost, she’d left her mark. She was noble and brave, and Loki was glad to have met her on the last day of his life.

“I mean, you did,” he said. “You were just a child when the TVA took you, but you nearly took down the organization that claims to govern the order of time. You did it on your own. You ran rings around them. You’re amazing!”

The pitch of his voice shot up with exuberance as Sylvie turned her gaze away from the falling rocks and upon him. She looked as though she might cry, her puckish, pretty face contorting as the words rose to his lips faster than they could move. Loki could feel himself smiling. His swelling sensation in his chest was physical, too.

It was as though something good within him was lifting up and spilling out, and for once, there was no reason to hide it.

Loki hadn’t realized how close they’d drifted toward one another until her hand touched his arm. He looked down, startled to his core. Her fingers were clammy. She smoothed them across his skin, soft as a feather. He hadn’t realized Sylvie could be so gentle, nor had he realized it about himself.

The muscles in Loki’s belly fluttered all at once. At once, he lifted his eyes, only to be distracted by a pair of enormous rocks finally breaking the atmosphere and crashing into the mountainous wall of the mine. It exploded in fire, pushing the dirt like a wave crashing toward them.

Instinctively, Loki reached for Sylvie’s little hand. She took it and held it tightly.

This was it. This was the end.

But Loki had already seen his end. He’d been killed so many times that he’d lost track. What need did he have to see it again?

He wanted to look at Sylvie instead. If he got to choose the last thing he saw, he wanted it to be her, bathed in pink light.

Loki reached for her other hand and she allowed him to take it. He didn’t feel he deserved someone to hold on to, and especially not Sylvie, but maybe he didn’t deserve death, either. Sylvie certainly didn’t.

He wanted to kiss her goodbye.

But he dared not move. From the corner of his eye, he began to see the dust closing in. They only had seconds. Looking at her was enough. His heart thundered, full of terror and some sort of delusional hope.

And he counted himself among the lucky, the impossibly fortunate, that his last moment alive should be such a perfect one.

That was when a pair of Doorways opened.

And Mobius rushed out.

#loki #sylvie #loki series #loki spoilers #one shot #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic #mcu #don't care if i'm sticking my neck out #i love them #i wanted to write about them #sylki

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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Moneypulated//Aizawa

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

Summary: Sadly your husband isn't meeting the end of his deal with the mob boss Shota Aizawa. After Aizawa's right-hand woman told him about the lowlife's pretty little housewife he decided to take the matter into his own hands. Words: 3.2k+

NOTE: Big big thank you again to @misterhoneyyandere for letting me use their ideas to inspire this and my recent KiriBaku fic! I changed the boyfriend into husband to make the situation a bit more incriminating for him :) TW: nsfw: mention of alcohol and gambling, Voyeurism, non con, mention of blood, being tied up, slight degrading, praise, oral (male receiving), anal fingering, (kind of cheating? I definitely wouldn’t say you’re cheating but some see this as cheating), mention of death threats and a gun, hair pulling, choking, spitting, slapping

Your husband always has been the sweet guy next door. Holding the doors open for you, paying attention to the small things, always remembering your favorites. Haruto supported all your dreams, all your goals. Sure people looked at you a bit weirdly because of your age difference, but you never minded that. It was always the two of you against the world. At least for the first year of your marriage. You were still somewhat in your honeymoon phase but Haruto became more and more stressed because of work. He took a job offer that would pay him a lot of money, but the down side of it was the huge responsibility he was suddenly holding. For the first few month things went great but then his bosses demanded more results. Faster, better. Of course you understood the situation he was in and you didn’t mind his outbursts. Tried to satisfy him the best way you could. He had to take trips more and more often and at first you didn’t question it. Your husband never lied to you, he knew he could always be open and honest to you about anything. But then you noticed a change of behavior, hiding his phone screen whenever he was around you, leaving the room when someone called. You asked him about it but he denied hiding anything, saying you’re just a bit paranoid and apologized for it. Yet, nothing changed. So when he was out again for the weekend you couldn’t take it any longer. Now you sat in the kitchen, looking at the red numbers of your husband’s bank account. They must have made a mistake right? Your husband isn’t into gambling, he never had any addictions before, never smoked, never drunk, nothing. The dates all aligned with his “business trips”. One one side you were happy that he wasn’t seeing someone else, but when you noticed the name of the casino you turned pale. PEONY CASINO Owner: Aizawa, Shota Accused (but never sentenced): Money Laundry, Murder, Drug Cultivation and Manufacturing, Assault, Kidnapping, Robbery, Bribery, you name it. Everyone knew he was one of the biggest mob bosses, but no matter who worked on these cases, they all failed. People and evidence disappeared or were never even found. Sometimes those who pressed charges then would drop them because “It was all a misunderstanding”. Why would your husband willingly be associated with someone like him? There were plenty of casinos out there, why did it had to be Peony? You changed into one of your dresses, there was no chance you would get into the casino without the right look. After getting done you jumped into your car, the moon already shining brightly upon you. The closer you got the angrier you turned. How could Haruto lie straight to your face? How could he hide this from you? How could your husband be so stupid to gamble with the devil?

The casino looked absolutely luxurious, you couldn’t deny that. Yet every little hair on your body stood up straight when your eyes landed on the huge building. There was a buff, blond security guard at the front door. His name tag read Bakugou. The couple in front of you tried their luck but were kicked out of the line for violating the dress code. A slight bit of sweat started to form on your forehead and arm pits. What if you failed here already?

“ID?” he barked, holding out his thick hand in front of you. You pulled it out of your purse and handed it to him. When he looked you up and down you fluttered your eyelashes, hoping to work your charm on him. Bakugou licked his plump lips before giving it back to you and letting you pass, his attention already on the person behind you. The blue and gold color scheme surrounded you everywhere you went. Every table, every worker’s uniform, every card, every dice. It was hard to find your husband in between among thousand of other people but it wasn’t impossible. You spend round about half an hour in the huge hall before your eyes fell upon your cheering husband’s from. As you made your way over to him, a waitress suddenly appeared in front of you, offering something to drink. You debated shortly, but maybe some alcohol in your system would do you well before confronting Haruto. After grabbing a glass filled with expensive liquor you thanked her. Once she walked away you looked at the sport he occupied just seconds ago only to see his seat now empty. You looked for him frankly and spotted a tall red haired man carrying your struggling husband away. Panic bubbled up inside of your body. Fear of what is going to happen. You picked up your speed, almost bumping into another waitress when a guy with purple hair and prominent dark eye-bags cut you off. “May I help you Madame?” he asked you, making sure to block your view from the long hallway. “I want to talk to my husband,” you demanded, eyes squinted together. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to make himself seem taller so you would feel more intimidated and crossed his arms. “I saw him getting carried away by that red haired man, right into this hallway, so stop acting stupid and let me through,” you argued with him and he sighed, talking into his walkie talkie device. It was impossible for you to hear what the guy on the other line said but Shinso’s demeanor changed. He let you pass, following you at every turn and making you stop in front of a black door. “Mister Aizawa will meet you shortly,” he explained and as you turned around in shock at the mention of his name you were knocked out cold. You don’t know how long you were out, it could have been hours or days. Your head felt awful, dizzy and confused. “I’m glad you decided to join the party, I don’t think your husband could wait much longer,” a deep voice in front of you spoke. His long black hair was slicked back, his scar on full display. He was wearing a completely black tuxedo, a few golden rings adoring his fingers and you noticed that his knuckles had some bruises. Aizawa was crotched down in front of you as he inspected your face, his eyes wandering up and down your body. “It’s a real pity that we had to meet under these circumstances,” he seemed genuinely upset when he stroked your cheek. “My name is Shota Aizawa. According to your ID your name is Y/N Tanaka if I’m not mistaken? And I am pretty sure you know him as well,” a sinister smile was plastered on his face when he stepped out of your view, thus your eyes now falling onto your beat up husband. “Haruto” you whispered. He had a deep cut over his left brow, eye black, his lip was busted, blood was all over his ripped white shirt. A few of his fingers seem broken too. “What have you done to him?” you struggled against your restrains, tears welling up in your eyes. “The question is what has he done to himself? Has he told you about his debt?” you looked at the man in front of you and he could see you didn’t. “Oh no, hiding something from your wife Haruto?” he clicked his tongue as his eyes fell unto the almost unconscious business man. He looked at you the best he could and you could see his eyeballs had turned red. In that moment you didn’t see your happy, carefree husband, no, you saw a scared little boy who just got caught. “I-I’m so, so sorry. I thought I had it under control-” he was caught off by his coughs, blood dripping down from his mouth. “Turns out he didn’t. Gambling is a real bad addiction, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked you. “I don’t think it’s the gambler’s fault but the game master’s,” you answered him with a nasty look. He laughed at your comment, nodding his head in agreement. “The reason why you’re here is because you’re going to help your husband with his debt. We made a deal. I get to play with his wife and therefor he only owns me 50.000 instead of the original 100.000. Sounds fair doesn’t it? I got that idea when you arrived here,” he sounded so nonchalant, as if he told you what he had for dinner today. You looked at your husband, hoping to see him in as much shock as you were right now but he only looked down in shame. “He wouldn’t-” “Oh but he did. All it took was a knife to his throat,” he cut open your restrains, massaging your wrists and pulled you up to him. He brushed your hair from your shoulder, kissing it gently.

The moment his lips met your skin your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you slapped him across the face, turning the whole room quiet. Once you realized what you have done, who you just raised your hand again, your face twisted up in pure shock and you stumbled back, apologies tumbling from your lips.

The mob boss took targeted, heavy steps towards you, his eyes the one of a predator ready to pound on his prey. He crotches down to pick you up by your neck, his grip tight when he walked you back to your original place. “If you try to pull shit like this again, I will gut your husband in front of you, understood?” his voice was low, dangerous and you knew he wasn’t one to joke around. You could only nod, apologizing again, your hands flying up to his wrists when his grip got worse, silently pleading for him to release you with your teary eyes. “Now you will go down on your knees and show me what that mouth can do other than whine.”

His black eyes didn’t leave yours, watching with a hint of a smirk as you compeled to his orders. You unbuckled his black pants, the metal clanking as it fell to the floor. You were seemingly impressed by his dick print through his tight boxers. He wasn’t pleased when you turned your eyes away from him and to your husband so one of his hands gripped your hair and pulled your attention to him. His other hand slapped you, not hard but enough to send pain through your body, straight to your cunt. As you pulled down his boxers, his dick sprung free and hit his happy trail right under his navel. “Be a good girl and open wide for me,” he squished your cheeks so you opened your mouth, not expecting him to spit into it. He patted your head as if he was praising you before shoving his dick down your throat. His hands held you in place so you wouldn’t move, loving the way you choked around him, your attempts to swallow causing his thick cock to twitch. There was no mercy in his thrusts, hard and deep, lost in pleasure. Once your tears mixed with your drool he had enough and pulled you off almost completely. He still had his slick fingers in your hair but wasn’t as rough with you anymore. You started bobbing your head on his meat, one of your hands on his balls to massage them. Maybe if you try hard enough he would cum quick and this all would be over soon enough. Grunts and moans left his lips, his eyes never leaving your frame, the sight in front of him throwing him into full bliss. You definitely knew what you were doing, swirling your tongue around his tip, licking his shaft up and down whenever your jaw needed a small break, joined by your other hand. The way you looked up at him from time to time made him almost go feral. How could someone look so innocent and yet so full of sins at the same time? Where have you been all his life? Maybe he should kill your husband afterwards, keep you to himself. But where would he get his money from then? Not that he needed it, but still, debt was debt. He could still always kidnap you when he felt like it. He really should. Your mouth now concentrated on his tip, tongue licking all around it, hand going up and down, the grip just right and damn, your hand really worshipped his balls. He couldn’t keep himself from fucking your face, hearing those choke noises send him over the edge. Of course he pulled out first, shooting his load all over your face.

“You’re such a good little whore for me, you did such a great job,” he praised you, his grey scarf cleaning your eyes so you could open them again. He wanted you to look at him, wanted to see your eyes roll back when he fucks you in front of your spouse and his men. “Something like this deserves a reward, what do you think Kirishima, should I fuck her, take care of that sloppy wet hole?” he asked the man in the shadows, looking at the doors. You couldn’t see his reaction but fear spread through your body.

“But... I thought-” you stammered, the man in front of you put his pointer finger under your chin so you’d look up to him. “What? That I would be satisfied by one orgasm? Oh darling, I’m so sorry you’re so used to awful sex. But no, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I leave you so needy,” he pointed down on the floor and you noticed your wetness dripped down onto the hard floor. “Your body betrayed you,” he whispered into your ear as he crawled on top of your smaller frame.

“No, please,” your husband gasped, a painful groan followed suit after. Aizawa only had to look at one of his man, your husband gagged within seconds. “Sir please stop,” you pleaded with him, your hand pushing against his chest in an attempt to stop him from going further. “I like it when you call me sir,” he told you, kissing and nibbling on your soft skin. With one swift motion he cut open your dress, your body fully exposed. “Naughty girl, you’re not even wearing a bra and now-” he cut open your slip, the cold blade against your hot core sending shock waves through your body, your nipples turning hard, “not even underwear,” he groaned into your ear. His attention immediately went to your in goose bumps covered tits, licking the sensitive nubs alternately. When his fingers went to play with your pussy you pushed it away, shaking your head no. “Stop it, I don’t want this,” you told him when he looked at you angrily. Tears welled up in your eyes again as you saw his dark smile.

“Your mind maybe doesn’t, but your body is craving this,” he told you, holding your hands up with one hand, the other one aligning his still wet dick with your glistering folds. “Please, you’re big,” you whimpered when his tip was now at your entrance. “Oh don’t worry,” he assured you, pushing his full length into you at once. He covered your mouth with his hand to quiet down your scream that left your lips as he filled you up so suddenly. “It will only hurt for a little bit,” his waist snapped back and forth, in and out of you, the room soon filled with the sound of your wet cunt being abused by the one and only Aizawa. “Stop suppressing your moans darling, let me hear them. Don’t be shy, I feel you clenching your needy hole around me.” His other hand played with your clit now, drawing slow circles around it, tapping it from time to time to feel your body jolting. He had enough of your quietness, so he bit down on your neck hard, making you yell, which turned into a moan. “There we go,” he grunted.

The black haired man grabbed his grey scarf, wrapping it around your throat and pulling it shut tightly. Your hands hit him and your nails scratched his arms and chest, making him moan in pleasure. Before you could pass out completely he stopped. He wanted you to remember every single second. Aizawa wanted you on top of him, watch your tits bounce up and down with his thrusts, so he turned you around, holding you up so he could pound into you. The new angle made your eyes roll into the back of your neck and you could’t help it now. Moans slipped past your lips as the shame and refusal slowly turned into pleasure. He hit all the right spots, his finger playing with your clit skillfully. Whenever he felt like it he would tuck on the scarf around your neck, choking you until he saw tiny veins pop under your eyes. At a certain point he pulled your body close to his, one hand in your hair, the other one trailing down your back. Before you could objectify against it, he had his finger inside of your puckering, empty hole. You bit his shoulder because it burned, never experiencing something like this before. “Fuck, you really like this darling don’t you? You’re such a good slut for me, letting me abuse all your holes like that,” he moaned and pulled you back by your hair, feeling you clenching around him more frequently. He picked up the speed, pushing another finger into you in scissoring motions, watching your eyes roll back into your head as you came undone. Aizawa made sure your husband’s eyes were looking at you. He had to know that Aizawa ruined you for him, that it was him, not Haruto, who gave you the best fuck in your life.

The black haired man will never forget how your nails dig into his skin when you fucked yourself through your high on his dick, will never forget the way you moaned out his name, forgetting everything around you but the feeling of your best orgasm. When you looked down at the man underneath you he couldn’t see a hint of fear in them and for a moment he just wanted to pull you in and kiss your cum covered face, you fitted perfectly around him and he had so much to show you. He wanted to ruin you, destroy you and build you up again, form you into his perfect little wife. Just the thought of having you anywhere possible: his car, his office, his yacht, his suit, his balcony, in his pool, his jacuzzi, so many places, so many kinks, so many positions. His thrusts became sloppier and he followed you quickly, painting your insides white. Aizawa held you close, taking in your mixed smell and enjoying your little spasms that went through your body every now and then. When he pulled out he made sure nothing would spill and took of his scarf from around you, wrapping you inside of it. “I’m gonna take better care of you than he did, darling. You take care of him,” he told his men, ordering Bakugou to stop the camera and put the DVD in his safe for later.

©Kirishoshego

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

Text

Hide && Seek;; YHW

Word Count;; 3.5k

Genre;; HORROR

Pairing;; Hwanwoong x Reader

Summary;;

Inside this grand, lavish hotel and its sparkling veneer of respectability, you find yourself playing the role of the feline in a little game of cat and mouse. Your opponent? Hwanwoong, the man with the angelic smile and carefree eyes. The further you chase him, however, the harder it is to settle your nerves. The line between predator and prey is blurring and you can't help but wonder who exactly is pursuing who.

Warnings;;

TW// Blood, Character Death (random side character), Supernatural and Dark Themes!! Graphic depictions of violence! I’m serious here! It’s a bit intense. NOT for the light of heart (or stomach). Oh, and explicit language.

Please be mindful of these warnings as this features EXPLICIT violence.

Notes;;

Day Nine of the Halloween 2k20 Prompts! ~Monster~

My Masterlist

You've had too much to drink.

With a cloudy mind, you stumble after your companion. Your feet drag as you lag behind him. You pass many doors but he doesn't stop. Further down the hall and deeper into the building you travel, long past the area of the hotel reserved for guests.

His silky hair bounces every time he turns to you. After what feels like an eternity staring at the back of his head, you appreciate the fleeting glimpses of gleaming eyes and that cheeky smile he flashes your way. He's keeping an eye on you, making sure you don't wander off in your drunken haze. That much is obvious but you don't mind, not really. In return you are dutiful in your pursuit of him.

You can't recall where he is taking you. With half a mind to ask, your mouth falls open only to snap shut - he's looking back at you now with such an intensity that all you can do is stare in return. There's something swirling deep within his eyes but you can't pinpoint it; you can't put your finger on what emotion is prevalent in his gaze as it bears into your soul.

Seconds crawl by.

One foot in front of the other, you're on autopilot as you follow him without a thought of your own, your mind zeroing in on the burning intensity of his stare. He pulls you deeper into his hypnotic, hungry eyes with every step all the while leading you deeper into the bowels of the hotel. For some reason you trust him and you don't question the dubious situation despite this being the first night you've met.

There's a familiarity about him that lures you.

You come across a red sign and some yellow tape. He steps over it so you do too, tripping over your own feet to catch back up to him as his pace quickens. He disappears around a corner and you chase him. You're always hot on his trail and yet you remain so far behind.

Your hand slides down the wall as you round the corner. Chips of paint slough off and embed within the soft flesh of your palm. With a hiss of pain, you look down. Tiny beads of blood well around the points of impact, each marked by stiff, sharp shards of paint.

If you pull them out now, sure, it'll sting, but leaving them in will only cause misery later alongside a possible infection.

With your mind set, you get to work. It's a struggle to remove the tiny pieces but you try nonetheless. They're small and fragile, breaking before you have a chance to remove the whole fragment but you don't give up. Piece after piece, you pick and scrape into the tender, sensitive skin.

Blood flows more freely now. It's hard to see the paint when there's so much blood leaking out of the growing gashes but you're stubborn. You don't leave jobs half-done and you can feel more of the tiny shards just beneath the skin, taunting you. They slip deeper the further your nails chase them.

As if they're makeshift pliers, your middle finger and thumb stretch open the skin while your pointer finger digs deep, blood and flesh pulsing from the assault.

"Having fun?"

You stop dead in your tracks.

Rubbing your eyes in an attempt to clear away the alcohol-induced haze, you frown. Hwanwoong is nowhere to be seen. You squint as you scour, searching up and down from the cracked floor to the peeling ceiling, but find no clues as to his whereabouts.

Brushing it off, you look back down to your palm and the involuntary shiver that rocks your whole body leaves you trembling.

It's sobering.

The complete lack of blood, paint splinters, and cuts is sobering.

"Funny, isn't it?"

"What the fuck?"

It's a whisper meant to be consumed by the thundering silence and yet you know he heard it. He's lingering. Nowhere to be seen but everywhere at once, Hwanwoong is both near and far. You can't wrap your head around it.

Then there's the shift in the hall that is plain inexplicable. Up is down and down is... gone. You haven't any proof, just a gut feeling, but it's enough and you worry that if you do check, there will be nothing at all. Will you fall, then, like a cartoon character who has just realised they're running on air? Will you plummet right through the floor, tumbling out of reality in your pursuit of Hwanwoong?

Where did he go?

Dropping your hand out of view, you consider it lost to you now. Anything below the waist feels numb, as if it has merged with the darkness you suspect 'down' has become. Eye level seems safe enough so you gaze from side to side.

It isn't how you remember it to be.

The wall is pristine. There are no cracks. The paint isn't sloughing off. Nary a blemish marks the white, clean walls on either side of you. It's dangerous to let your eyes wander and yet you have no real control over yourself. They drift up and down, still cautious of the ceiling and floor but eager to solve this mystery all the same.

Turning your head, you gaze back at the corner where you had injured yourself. At least you thought you had. There is no bend or corner there, just a straight pathway leading you to…

You gulp, taking a step backward.

At the end of the hallway there's a room you wish to avoid.

At the end of the hallway there's a door that beckons to you.

It whispers the promise of death.

Snapping around once more, you run. You run and you run and you run until your lungs cannot bear it any longer and your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. No matter how far you go, there's no exit.

Gulping down air while resting against the wall, your nails dig into the plaster in an attempt to keep your body from collapsing down into the void. It comes up to your knees and the longer you stay still, the harder it is to move. Your head wobbles and shakes with every breath before your eyes flutter close.

Just a quick breather you tell yourself, knowing full well that if you don't snap out of this reverie, you'll fall headfirst into the madness consuming you.

"Should we play?"

The gasp bubbling free from deep within dissipates beneath the constriction of your throat. Nails impale themselves into the tender flesh of your neck. The higher you're lifted, the stronger his grasp becomes. Blood pools in your feet. Your body shakes. Your mind screams. Your eyes open.

But there's nothing.

Checking your neck for blood, you find it isn't even sore to the touch. Before you is that endless hallway but not a living presence is nearby. Hwanwoong is nowhere to be seen, though this fact doesn't surprise you any longer.

When your senses return to you, you're gazing at the floor. The same floor you feared mere moments ago. The carpet is ugly but otherwise harmless. There's no hell awaiting you and there's no darkness devouring you inch by inch. Releasing a shaky exhale, you risk turning back to face it.

Your nightmare.

The door.

Carved out within the wall at the end of the hall, it waits for you. Despite how far you've tried to run away from it, it remains just where it has always been. From beneath the threshold you see the edge of the refracted light, its pattern dancing and shimmering. It's a taunt handmade for you.

You take a step forward. Unlike your futile attempt to escape in the other direction, the gap shortens. You take another step. There's several indents in the wall lining the way. They're the perfect size for a door and yet when you run your hand along the edges, there's no air nor light seeping through. A solid wall greets your shoulder when you try to force a new entryway.

While inching closer to the final door and its kaleidoscope of sparkling light, you pound against the hall and all its false doors. Nothing budges and nothing gives. It isn't until you turn to cross the hall, intent on scouring the other side for a hole or error in the design, that you notice the infinite shards of reflective light and how they flood the hallway. Splashes of bright light dance across your skin. Eerie silence follows.

The door is ajar.

Reaching out, the tip of your fingers graze against the metallic overcoat. It's old and rough to the touch. You want to pull back, to turn around and escape this personalised hell, but the room is summoning you. It's a call to judgement and you daren't ignore it. You must atone.

The door creaks once your palm meets it. Though it looks heavy, it flies wide open with a single push. A tidal wave of light bursts through. Your heartbeat escalates.

It's impossible.

What you see is impossible and yet your past is here in vivid detail. From the view of the snow-capped mountains in the distance and the much closer fog over the outdoor jacuzzi to the soft jams of his radio and the desperate splashing of water to the stinging chlorine that, even now, burns your nose. It's all the same - right down to that fucking shimmering pool and the woman in it.

"Should we play some more?" Hwanwoong purrs.

His body presses against your own and you can feel the way it shakes with every syllable, as if he is brimming with excitement. For once, you know he's truly here with you. Whether 'here' is within the halls of the hotel or back inside that rich psycho's mansion isn't clear to you, however.

Perhaps you hadn't been the one to walk away after all.

"Have you been bad? Should I punish you?"

There's no room between your bodies but that doesn't stop you from trying to push past him, to squirm around him, to force him out of the room with the sparkling, refractive light and the secret it holds.

"Nah-uh, not so fast cutie." He smiles at you and your feeble attempt to move him. "Let's play a game."

"No!"

"Huh?"

"I don't want to! I need to get out of here, you don't underst-"

"But you don't even know what the game is yet," he pouts, gripping a fistful of your hair and stopping you dead in your tracks. With how tight his hold is, there's no doubt that the shearing burn exploding outward from the roots is your hair ripping from your skull. You can't silence the scream that escapes your quivering lips.

There's a voice in the back of mind that tells you to endure, to experience firsthand what you put her through.

Whether from blood or sweat, you feel a sticky dampness forming along your hairline. He loosens his grip once the tears flow down your face like a broken faucet. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he shakes his head and murmurs something. You can't make out the words over the pounding of blood within your ears. It takes a few minutes before you're able to think straight and he waits for you the whole time, content to just watch.

"What-" you hiss through the dulling pain, "-game?"

"You're so resilient. I like that about you, sweet cheeks. Let's play… hide and seek. Do you know how to play?" He waits for a response and the jerk of your head suffices. Satisfied that you're paying attention, he grins. There's something ethereal about him and the way his skin glows and his eyes shine. It's no wonder you had followed him so willingly. He just seems so safe. Angelic, even. "Then go hide, silly."

With a push, you find yourself stumbling into the room with its giant pool and hypnotising effects. Unable to remain upright, you slip. The poolside puddles turn red when your cheek kisses the ground and blood spills forth from the piece of your tongue you damn near bite off.

There's a sharp stinging pain in your thigh. Deep within your pant pocket is a solid, round secret. It digs into your leg, bruising the skin down to the bone, and you wince as you stand. From pure reflex you grasp it and hold it in place, scared to lose it.

"I didn't think it would be us," the woman cries, sliding down the white walls and crumpling to the floor.

"Better us than the others," you mumble out of instinct, following along with the memory.

"I don't want to hurt you!" She's full on bawling now, tears and snot flowing down her face. You stand and wipe away the blood seeping from your split lip and torn tongue before spitting the excess into the pool. The water looks beautiful. It's gleaming and bright, unlike the last twenty-one hours.

"Better you than the others."

Dragging your injured foot, you approach her. She ignores your towering presence and focuses on staring into one of the little black cameras that have been watching the event unfold. You're running out of gas but she isn't faring much better.

You can finish this.

"Just let us go! Please, I don't want to die," she sobs, pleading with the red, blinking light on the camera. "We don't even care about the money."

Whether it's because of the trust born from a promise made hours prior, back when the odds were tilted in a much more dire direction, or because she thinks she can bargain for her life, she continues to ignore you.

What a mistake.

There's killing intent in your aura. It consumes you. Even you can tell and you're quite new to this murder business. And if you can tell, she can tell. After all, before the event your lives were quite similar. Parallel, even. If you could adjust this fast, so could she.

And yet she's crying on the floor and ignoring you, you with eyes devoid of empathy.

You with a pool ball in your grasp.

You with blood on your hands.

You within striking distance.

"We just want to live!"

"Better me than you."

Her desperate mewling ceases. Instead, her attention snaps to you. She can no longer ignore the threat you possess, not when you've released your weapon of choice from the soft material of your pants. Fear spreads across her dainty features like wildfire. Trying to escape the animosity spiraling over your form with your every step, she forces herself into a corner.

"But we agreed not t-"

Physics works in your favour. Velocity, force, and all that, but the semantics don't matter - all that matters is that the impact leaves a splatter and her body is limp. You discard the pool ball and it rolls away, leaving a trail of fresh blood in its wake. Red seeps deep into the grout between polished tiles.

Relief strikes seconds after the realisation of your success dawns upon you.

It is soon, however, drowned by the overwhelming sense of guilt.

You may have won but at what cost?

Her blood on your face stains you much deeper than the man's had. His attack had come as a surprise. It had been a fight for survival after a helping hand turned feral. You had no choice, not if you wanted to live, and by God you wanted to live. Not just to exist, but to explore and to enjoy and to possess.

Avarice paints your skin in the darkest shade of red.

Shooting two birds with one stone, you drag her to the poolside. Blood gushes from her forehead. It fills the room with an unmistakable and distasteful scent. Resisting the urge to recoil, you drop to your knees. Water soaks through your pants until dark wet spots cover your whole lower half. It's an uncomfortable sensation but you push it aside, instead focusing on the slight bobbing of her chest.

She's the last of them.

She's the final obstacle in your pursuit of wealth.

And she's still fucking breathing.

It takes a few seconds for her consciousness to return after you submerge her head beneath the surface. Her resistance starts immediately thereafter. She contorts and she struggles, pulling away from the iron-tight grip scarring her skull only to sink further into the depths of the pool. Your nails deep into flesh as you seek a more steady hold but you soon lose your footing to the slippery, polished tiles and topple onto her back.

There's a loud crack and you know between your weight and the position she's found herself in with half of her body in the water and the other half flailing behind her that it is too much pressure for her fragile bones. Her ribs crack one by one, fracturing like the snap of a twig. She screams but the water consumes the sounds, rising bubbles the only evidence.

From a deep shade of red to a soft pink, the water dilutes outward from the nonstop stream of blood gushing from her growing wounds.

"I'm sorry, but I've come too far to care about you."

The words are a reassurance to yourself. They serve as a reminder: this isn't who you are. You're a victim of circumstance. Someone had to do it so why not you? You've come too far to chicken out now. You've come too far to pity the ones that had to fall in order for you to rise.

Your soul is malleable beneath the corruption of sin.

Once her struggling ceases, you hold her down for a bit longer. When enough time passes that even an Olympic swimmer's lung capacity would fail them, you hold her down for a bit longer. Even though the blood no longer rushes forth and she's cold to the touch, you hold her down for a bit longer.

It isn't until the room floods with light that you release her. Strands of her hair twist around your fingers as her body sinks into the depths. The further she descends, the deeper the darkness that consumes her becomes. You cannot see the bottom and soon she is lost to you, claimed by the cold void.

A hand rests on your shoulder and you jump.

This is when they escort you off the grounds, give you the money, and remind you of the contract.

This is when the nightmare is supposed to end.

For the first time, your memory alters. No blanket is wrapped around you nor is anyone calling your name, ushering you out of the battlegrounds. Instead the hand on your shoulder lifts to cradle your chin, tilting your head back to face your companion. A playful smile greets your widening gaze.

"I found you," Hwanwoong coos, petting your cheek. "I knew from the moment I first laid eyes on you that guilt was eating you alive but this is always better than I could ever imagine."

"Please let me go," you stammer, fear settling in the gut of your stomach.

"Let you go? Do you not want me to clear you of this burden?"

"No, please, I only did what I had to!"

"Do you not want me to free you of this sin?"

"I did nothing wrong! Surviving isn't a crime!"

"Unfortunately for you, your opinion doesn't mean anything to me. 'I've come too far to care about you'," he mimics with a smirk. "I found you, just as I always do. And now…

"The dawn of judgement is upon you."

His palm meets your chest in a harsh push and you tumble. Even though your foot catches on the edge of the pool, it's much too slippery, too wet from your prior confrontation and you find yourself falling backward.

'-just as I always do.'

With widening eyes, you watch the ceiling blur above you. It's not what you expect of a pool room. In fact, you know it's not. Rather it's the white speckled panels of the hotel you had been stumbling around at three in the morning in a drunken haze as the years of guilt culminate in another reckless search for trouble, another desperate attempt to feel something.

Is it still that same morning?

Has time passed in a blink or has it frozen altogether?

'I found you-'

Just as he always does, he found you hiding within that same memory, stuck inside that single slice of hell. Just as he always does, he uses your weakness against you. He plays with you for a time until he gets bored of it all and sets you loose within the hotel.

And then he plays with you anew.

In this moment of falling, he allows you to remember. It's the final squeeze of pleasure he can extract from this iteration and he squeezes it dry. He watches fear born of knowledge contort your features and he indulges in it for as long as he can.

Hwanwoong's soft, angelic face etches into your mind, replacing the gift of truth with a lie of familiarity and trust, and soon a fog covers your mind. Despite your unending descent, you close your eyes and embrace the calm washing over you in waves. Of your own volition, you forget.

After all, the knowledge of one's eternal damnation is enough to destroy even the strongest mind.

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