#but someone decided to turn the lights off in this precise moment

[nattaphum]

I know it’s dark af but this kiss is highly underrated

#it’s one of their best kisses so far #but someone decided to turn the lights off in this precise moment #why #W H Y #kinnporsche #mygifs

[sttoru]

Could you do a scenario where megumis daycare teacher is hitting on y/n and toji and meg get really overprotective about it <3 love you parenting series sm

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. themes containing jealousy / protectiveness.

you were stunning. that much was known and evident to toji and others around you. your looks were captivating — however, you always seem demanded to deny that fact. even when you have a husband who reminds you of how good you look on a daily basis.

but with good looks comes male attraction; something toji greatly dislikes since you’re his wife. it isn’t like he’ll be mad at you about it — no, not at all. in fact, toji feels a surge of pride every time someone tells him how lucky he is to be your husband.

the thing is: he gets a little. . . too jealous and overprotective every now and then when the harmless compliments turn into blatant flirting.

“oi, megumi,” toji grumbles as he holds his son in his arms, looking out in the distance. specifically at you talking to megumi’s daycare teacher for a bit way too long to his liking, “ya see that? mommy’s being hit on right in front of us.”

the little boy stops chewing on one of toji’s hair strands, seemingly understanding whatever his dad had said. megumi lets out a small ‘oh!’ noise and stretches his arm out in your direction, pointing at you, “mama.”

you were too busy answering the questions megumi’s teacher asked you to even realise that your husband and son were looking at you from far away. toji’s menacing aura, however, only seemed to intensify the more you talked to that man.

“tsk. . . all right, kid—listen up.” toji narrows his eyes at the scene before putting megumi down on his feet, crouching down to be at eye level with the boy. he puts a hand on megumi’s shoulder and whispers a plan in a ‘baby-language’ his son could understand;

the two are being the perfect partners in crime right now (they always have been; since megumi’s birth to be precise).

megumi’s daycare teacher was telling you a fun story about what your son had done to which you politely laughed at. in that same moment you could feel someone tugging at your pants lightly — as if wanting to catch your attention,

“oh — hi, my baby.” your face lights up as you see megumi standing behind you. his big eyes were staring up at you, fingers curled around the fabric of your trousers still — not a clue of what he wanted of you,

you tilt your head to the side in slight confusion and when you wanted to crouch down to be at eye level, the little boy suddenly starts to scream and cry as if he just experienced something traumatic. when in reality, nothing in the current scenery had changed to provoke such a dramatic reaction.

“woah, woah, hey. .” you were startled by the sudden switch in megumi’s mood — his face going from a neutral expression to one of pure despair as he (fake) cried. not only you, but also the daycare teacher seemed to take a step back from the sudden screams echoing in the area.

you immediately pick megumi up and try to calm him down, not pressing him for answers on why he suddenly decided to have an-almost-mental-breakdown-like outburst.

another switch was flipped in the toddler once your attention was diverted from his daycare teacher to him and him only. your eyebrow raised at how easily megumi shut up and went from a state of distraught to one of content in your arms.

that’s when you glance over at your husband who stood near the exit of the daycare, leaning against the wall with his bulky arms crossed, a proud and smug grin on his face — his plan seemed to have succeeded. all credit goes to his son for succeeding in catching you off guard.

“damn, seems like the brat needed his mama’s attention, eh?” toji calls out with an ‘innocent’ shrug, snickering after that, “like father, like son — they say.”

it took you only a few seconds to realise that toji had probably asked megumi to catch your attention by faking to cry near you — knowing you’d drop anything to comfort your child at any time, no matter what you were doing.

“oh, you little . . .” you bite your tongue to refrain from scolding your childish husband out in public. you look down at megumi, seeing him stare back at you with happiness in his blue eyes. you certainly couldn’t be mad at him, “you. you’re lucky you’re cute, ‘gumi.”

you chuckle and kiss your son’s forehead, bidding the teacher farewell quickly (leaving him disappointed by the rushed ending of your conversation), before walking to toji.

megumi squirms in your arms and when you put him down, he instantly runs to his dad, expecting something in return for his performance. toji did seem to have promised him something in exchange for accomplishing his mission—

“papa! papa! candy!”

you raise an eyebrow as toji takes out a piece of candy from his pocket, reserved just for his son. toji was beaming with pride, ruffling megumi’s hair before handing him the delicacy, “here ya go. good job out there, kid.”

you roll your eyes, as that was the only thing you could do after walking right into their trap like that. as per usual.

the cherry on top was that your husband was mocking you like an annoying manchild on the way back home — recalling how worried you reacted when megumi successfully acted like he was crying.

megumi giggled along with his dad, leaving you entirely defenceless. at least you could laugh with them as well.

they got you good.

#ෆ : parenting 101. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #toji fic #jjk fic #toji x you #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n

[togenabi]

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you. 

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much. 

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does. 

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.” 

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily. 

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him. 

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?” 

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him. 

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face. 

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals. 

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards. 

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you. 

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together. 

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji. 

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there. 

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same. 

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas. 

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn. 

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.” 

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand. 

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand. 

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof. 

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern. 

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.” 

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous. 

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.” 

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars. 

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown. 

But he won’t tell you that.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

#vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji x reader #opla vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla spoilers #opla x reader #opla sanji x y/n #sanji oneshot #sanji imagine #opla #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x you #togenabi-sanji-02 #sanji au #vinsmoke sanji #sanji fic #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #op x reader #one piece sanji #togenabi-writes #opla royalty au #sanji royal chef au #opla au

[worseforwords]

The Arrangement

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter I of Marshmallow

“Sweetheart? Can you hear me?” your mom’s voice cackled through the phone. “Take your phone off your ear, mum, you’ve facetimed me,” you chuckled. “Oh, right. Hi, darling, lovely to SEE you,” she giggled at her own joke. “How are you, love? And where are you? I don’t recognise that wall behind you,” she inquired. “I’m in the changing room at Arsenal, you know, my job.” “Right, ‘course. Everything alright? How’s your g-” “Yeah, everything’s good,” you quickly interrupted her, hoping no one in the changing room caught on to what she was about to say. “I have to head to training soon, mum. Did you want anything from me?” “Right, busy woman, no time for chit-chat with her mum. Your dad and I were just wondering if we could come visit you anytime soon. We haven’t seen you since Christmas, and we would both really love to meet your girlfriend!” She said that last part with a bit too much excitement, and you were sure you saw some heads snap your way from the corner of your eye. “Ehh, yeah, I’m just a little busy at the moment with football, so I’m not sure when I’ll be free,” you said as you quickly turned down the volume of your phone. “I know, darling, but I noticed there’s no match scheduled the weekend after the next one, so you’ll be free then, right?” Another disadvantage of being a professional athlete: usually having a very public schedule. “Right, yeah, I think so. I’ll call you after training, mum.”

You hung up after both of you exchanged goodbyes and you immediately noticed a few eyes on you. One pair belonged to a smirking Katie, who quickly plumped herself down next to you. “What was that I heard? Does somebody have a new girlfriend?” “What the hell, why haven’t I heard about this?” Leah joined in. “Lotte, did you know?” Your roommate Lotte shook her head. “Haven’t seen or heard anyone at our house.” “How is that even possible?” Victoria wondered out loud. “Is it a long-distance thing?” Caitlin joined in on the conversation. By this point, you were surrounded by your teammates, gazing at you, awaiting answers, and your head was spinning, trying to come up with anything to explain your situation.

Ultimately you decided on just telling them the truth, knowing full well a lie wasn’t getting you out of this situation. “There is no girlfriend,” you said quietly. Clearly, your answer wasn’t satisfactory as everyone kept staring at you frantically. “My parents kept asking me when I would finally bring someone home because my brother and sister are both happily married or engaged homeowners starting their own families. They keep telling me not to wait until it’s too late. At Christmas, when they started again, I finally snapped. I lied and told them I have a girlfriend.” You took a quick breath before you continued. “Only it backfired because now they won’t stop asking me about her, and apparently, I have to find a girlfriend within the next week or so.” You let your head fall into your hands dramatically. There was a short silence as everyone around you processed what you had just told them. Then a loud shriek as Katie burst out laughing. “Oh boy, you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble, mate!” she shouted. “Good luck with that.”

The next few minutes were filled with everyone either light-heartedly teasing your situation or attempting to play matchmaker and find you a girlfriend, which you knew was futile with only 10 days to go. This was precisely why you avoided going on dates. All the unwarranted attention and people meddling in your life, you didn't need it. You’d rather concentrate on the love of your life that you did have some control over: football. Fortunately, Kim took her captaincy very seriously and summoned everyone out of the changing room for training to begin, but not before sending you a sympathetic smile as you mouthed a quick “thank you” to her.

Training went by swiftly, and afterward, some of the girls gathered at Beth and Viv’s for dinner. You sat on the sofa with Laura and Viv as Alessia was directing Vic in the kitchen, and Beth was setting the table. “So, Y/N, are you going to tell your parents the truth about your girlfriend... or lack thereof?” Laura asked. “I don’t know; it’ll be so embarrassing. And I definitely won’t be able to hold off on them trying to set me up with their neighbour’s son, who is studying to be a doctor, or my mum’s colleague’s daughter who’s in law school.” You imitated your mom as you talked about the people your parent wanted to set you up with before dramatically making a barf gesture. “But what else can you do?” Viv asked. “Let’s see... Fake my own death and start a new life elsewhere? Start studying robotics and learn to design my own robot girlfriend? Pretend I’ve got short-term memory loss and have forgotten who my own girlfriend is?”

“Okay, I need to join in on this, scoot,” Beth waved her hands, gesturing for you to move over. “The fact that you thought of building a robot girlfriend before considering finding an actual girlfriend is insane,” she said, almost like she was scolding you. “I get it,” mumbled Viv as Beth immediately sent her a stern glare to which she responded with by blowing her a quick kiss. “I don’t want a relationship right now. Besides, 10 days is way too little time to find someone,” you said, ignoring their antics. “Fine, have it your way, go with the robot. Vic can help you; she’s studied maths,” she joked as she got up again. “Excuse me,” Vic got involved from the kitchen. “Which of my subjects do you think is about robot girlfriends?” She giggled. “I say go with the Dory thing.”

“Vic, stir this sauce for a bit, please,” Alessia spoke sternly as she turned towards all of you. “Okay, I can’t believe no one has thought of this, but the solution is very simple. You just find someone who can pretend to be your girlfriend for the weekend your parents visit,” she explained as all of you listened. “Yes! Less, that’s a perfect plan,” Beth exclaimed. “But who should it be? Maybe you can hire an actor!” She added as you seriously considered this option for a moment. “Hm, I don’t know, seems kind of risky if they don’t really know me,” you said. 

“Yeah, you should probably pick a friend, someone you’ve known for a while and who knows what you’re up to these days,” Laura stated. “Sooo, maybe a teammate?” Vic suggested. “Yes!” Beth shouted again. “A teammate. But who? Obviously not someone who is openly dating someone else already, so me and Viv are out,” she then stated more calmly. “Laura and I can’t make it either, we’re going out with the Aussies, remember?” Vic asked as Laura nodded.

A silence fell as everyone sort of stared at Alessia, who was too focused on her cooking to notice. “Less?” Beth caught her attention, making her jump a little when she noticed everyone’s hopeful gazes fixated on her. “Are you available?” she asked. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll do it.” Alessia sent you a quick smile before continuing to make dinner. “That settles it then,” Beth said, giving you no say in the matter whatsoever. If you were being honest, though, you were just glad you had found somewhat of a solution to your problem. Besides, you didn’t know Alessia that well, the two of you usually being in different friend groups within the team and you had been intrigued to get to know her better for a while now.

The next few days in training everyone was mostly focussed on the game ahead. Some new pieces of gossip flooded the changing room and much to your delight, you and your love life were left unspoken of. It almost seemed a bit too good to be true, and you were now starting to worry it had all been a joke that you took too seriously. After all, the whole plan was a bit insane, definitely unlike anything you had ever done before. Were you just too desperate to notice that it was all banter?

"Everything alright, Y/N?” Alessia's voice jolted you from your mental spirals. “You seem a bit distracted.” “Yeah, all good. My mind just wandered for a second.” You feigned a smile. “Okay.” She returned the smile. “Hey, Alessia,” you began before she could exit the changing room. “Can I talk to you for a second?” “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” She settled herself beside you.

“So, you know about our crazy fake girlfriend plan, and—” “Correction, it’s my crazy plan, not ‘our’. My idea.” She interjected with a satisfied expression. “Right, your crazy plan. Anyhow, I realise you were put on the spot when Beth asked if you were available. I just wanted to say you don’t have to do it; I can find someone else,” you spoke hesitantly. “Oh no, I want to do it. Unless you’d prefer someone else, of course.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly clarified. “Alright then, let’s do it.” You offered a shy smile. “Ehh, I hope that’s not how you planned on asking me,” she giggled. You shot her an ‘are you serious?’ look. She responded with what you assumed was her best ‘yes, I’m serious, how dare you even question that’ expression. “Give me one second.”

You darted around the corner, returning a few seconds later with a ring made from bright blue kinesiology tape. “Alessia Russo, will you do me the honour of being my fake girlfriend for the weekend?” you proposed, getting down on one knee before her. “Yes, YES, a thousand times yes!” She dramatically pretended to swoon as you slid the makeshift ring onto her finger.

“Right, so my parents will be visiting from Friday night until Sunday, most likely,” you swiftly changed the subject, attempting to avoid any blush creeping onto your cheeks. “But you don’t have to be there for the entire duration, of course. If you could just pop in for a bit on Saturday, that would be great,” you suggested. “Oh, well I don’t really have any other plans because I assumed this would be an all-weekend kind of thing,” she replied softly, and you felt the warmth in your cheeks intensify. “And Dan is out of town anyway.”

Right, Dan. Her boyfriend. You were aware of him, you had met him – this wasn’t new information. So why did you suddenly feel a knot tightening in your stomach at Alessia mentioning him? “So, what do you want me to be like?” She brought you back from your thoughts. “What do you mean?” You asked. “I mean, how do you want me to be around your parents? We’ve got to impress them, right?” She explained. “Oh, just be yourself. They’ll love you. I know they will,” you assured her as she got up from the bench, ready to go warm up.

“Whatever happened in here?” Leah asked as she entered the changing room, followed by some other girls, right after Alessia had left. “What do you mean?” You inquired. “Well, Less just almost walked into me; she was all flustered and smiley, and now here you are, looking all flustered and upset,” she explained. “Nothing happened. I’m not upset. Just a bit nervous about my parents visiting and everything,” you lied. Either Leah didn’t notice or she decided to let you off the hook, but either way, she didn’t ask any further questions about it. As one of your best friends, Leah knew you very well, and she also knew that questioning you in a room full of people was the worst thing she could do to you. 

“So is Less still coming?” Beth inquired. “Yes,” you mumbled, not wanting everyone to get involved again, but with no success. “Less?” Katie jumped in. “Why would she come?” Luckily, Beth came to your aid and explained the whole situation to everyone there so you didn’t have to.

“That’s a great plan,” Katie finally spoke. “But how will we make it believable?” “I’m sorry, we?” You tried to interrupt. “We should quiz them!” Beth suggested loudly, ignoring you entirely. “What is happening?” You mumbled to Leah who just laughed at you in response. “Yes! Lotte, can you come up with some questions about Less, and Leah, you can do the same for Y/N.” 

Somehow, everyone had agreed on the quiz idea, and once again, you had no say in it. On Wednesday night, a few of the girls gathered at Lotte and your place to prepare you and Alessia for the weekend. The anticipation in the air was as thick as the excitement before a big match. Tables were set up, and a stack of papers with questions lay in the centre. Lotte, with her mischievous smile, and Leah, ever ready for a good laugh, were the architects of this grand interrogation.

You, Alessia, and the rest of the team settled in around the living room. The atmosphere was a mix of nerves and amusement, everyone eager to see how this plan would unfold. Beth, who put on an oversized blazer and a bright red Arsenal bowtie for the occasion, took charge, announcing the rules with a theatrical flourish.

“Alright, everyone! Welcome to the Ultimate Fake Girlfriend Quiz Night!” She exclaimed, earning a round of laughter. “We’ve got questions about Y/N for Alessia and questions about Alessia for Y/N. Let’s see how well our fake couple knows each other.” The room erupted into cheers. Lotte, holding a list of questions about Alessia, winked at you. Leah, armed with questions about you, looked equally mischievous.

The first round began, and Leah fired off questions about you. Alessia, to everyone’s surprise, answered with remarkable accuracy. “Alright, Alessia,” Leah said with a smirk, “what’s Y/N’s guilty pleasure snack?”

Alessia pondered for a moment, a playful glint in her eyes. “Chocolate-covered pretzels. She hides them in the back of a cabinet, but I always find them.” Laughter filled the room. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Alessia, impressed and slightly amused that she had picked up on your secret indulgence. Apparently her close friendship with your roommate had given her quite an advantage.

Lotte, taking her turn, quizzed you about Alessia’s life. “What’s Alessia’s weirdest talent?” she asked with a sly grin. You thought for a moment, realising Alessia had shared a few quirky skills in the changing room. “She can do this weird thing with her tongue, like roll it into a clover shape. It’s bizarrely impressive.”

Alessia blushed, seemingly surprised that you remembered such a minor detail. The room erupted into cheers again. As the quiz progressed, Alessia consistently demonstrated an uncanny knowledge of your habits and likes. It seemed like she had been paying much more attention than you thought.

The highlight came when Leah, with a devious smile, presented the final question: “What’s Y/N’s weirdest habit in the morning?” Alessia, grinning confidently, answered, “She talks to herself in the mirror while doing her hair. Full-on conversations with her own reflection.” Your face turned crimson, and a chorus of laughter echoed through the room. You shot Alessia a playful glare.

The quiz ended and the consensus was clear — Alessia and you knew each other surprisingly well, considering this was supposed to be a fake relationship. However, Katie, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist stirring the pot.

She leaned forward with a teasing grin. “So, you two aced the quiz, but do you even have any chemistry?” Her question hung in the air, causing a collective intake of breath from the spectators. Alessia looked at you, a subtle uncertainty in her eyes. “Seriously, guys, you need to up your game. You look way too platonic.”

Your teammates, now fully invested in your fake romance, decided to play relationship coaches. “Alright, stand up,” Beth commanded. “Let’s see how you two handle physical proximity. Hug. Now.” You and Alessia exchanged a glance, both feeling a bit awkward. You hesitated for a moment before tentatively wrapping your arms around each other. The teammates observed and then erupted into a chorus of opinions.

“Too stiff!”

“More like you mean it!”

“Look into each other’s eyes, not the ceiling!”

You and Alessia shared an amused yet bewildered look. The teammates continued their analysis, discussing everything from hand-holding techniques to the positioning of your bodies. It was like a crash course in relationship theatrics. “Alright, sit down,” Beth commanded again. “You two are sitting too far apart. Scoot closer.”

As you and Alessia moved to sit side by side, Steph suggested, “Try a more casual touch. Like, Y/N, put your hand on Alessia’s leg.” Panic flashed across your face, but you complied, very carefully placing your hand on Alessia’s leg. The room erupted into laughter again.

“Okay, she said casual, Y/N. She’s not made of thin glass now is she?” Beth joked, and Alessia chuckled as you adjusted your grip, secretly wanting to disappear into the couch. The teammates continued to give advice, critiquing every move and gesture. Amidst the laughter and chaos, Laura suggested, “You guys should try the 36 Questions. You know, that study that makes people fall in love?”

That mention drew curious looks from you and Alessia. Beth explained, “People say you’ll fall in love if you answer them honestly with someone. It could help you two look more... well, in love.” The idea was met with a mix of enthusiasm and skepticism. “Homework for our fake couple!” Beth declared, and everyone laughed.

As the evening wound down, the teammates left your place. Everyone but Alessia, who offered to help you clean the place up. Lotte went to bed, leaving you and your now approved ‘fake girlfriend’ with a newfound list of relationship do’s and don’ts, along with the prospect of a homework assignment that promised to make your fake relationship more convincing.

“So… I guess we’ve got some homework to do,” you said, feeling very awkward all of a sudden now that it was just you two. You then realised you had never really hung out together without at least one other person being there. “Yeah, 36 questions,” she started as she grabbed her phone. “Do you believe in this?”

“No of course not,” you said, ever the sceptic. “But I do believe Katie is gonna murder us if we don’t do our homework. Both of you exchanged glances like, ‘Are we really doing this?’ and rolled your eyes in silent agreement that this was a bit of a silly experiment.

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” She read the first question from her phone, immediately gazing at the ceiling as if in thought about her answer. “I bet yours would be Michael Jordan,” you said. “Hey, I’m asking you about your answer not mine!” She giggled as she elbowed your shoulder. 

“Fine, let me think. Do they have to be alive?” You wondered. “I mean I guess it says ‘anyone’, so if you want to have dinner with a corpse, by all means,” she chuckled. “No, not like that, ew,” you now elbowed her. “I just mean I would love to have dinner with my grandma. She’s sacrificed so much for our family, but I only ever knew her as a child so I’ve never been able to thank her for it.” Still in thought you stared at your feet for a bit until you realised it had been quiet for a while in your living room. 

“Sorry,” you said, quickly looking up and finding Alessia’s eyes already on you with a look you couldn’t quite place. “I’ll just go with Beyoncé, she’d be a cool dinner guest,” you quickly changed your answer. “No, no, that was really sweet. I bet your grandma would love to have dinner with you too. And I’m sure she knew you’d be grateful,” she said softly, her eyes remaining on yours. “Yeah well, you just called her a corpse so that idea is kind of ruined for me now,” you teased. “No I didn’t!” She protested.

The first couple of questions were mostly light and you chuckled at each other’s silly answers. However, as you continued down the list, the questions became increasingly deep and personal and as eye-rolls turned into thoughtful pondering, you both found yourselves sharing way more than you had expected. 

Alessia’s responses were open and honest as she shared stories about her childhood dreams, the hurdles in her football journey, and her aspirations beyond the pitch. One question, in particular, struck a chord: “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?” Alessia’s response was heartfelt. “I’d want to be fearless. Not just on the field, but in life. There are times when I feel held back by my own doubts and fears. I’d love to face everything without that weight.”

Her openness made it easy for you to share your own dreams and fears. The conversation flowed easily, moving through topics of love, aspirations, and personal histories. It felt like something shifted between the two of you. Alessia was no longer just a teammate or a fake girlfriend to you. She was someone you could talk to, someone you felt a genuine connection with and you had a newfound appreciation for her.

By the time you had finished the first set of questions you finally looked at the time. “Oh my god, Alessia, it’s 2 am!” You both jumped up. Two hours had passed since everyone had left and you had an early training the next morning. “Really? How did that happen. I should run then,” she said.

“Hey, do you want to stay over?” You asked as you immediately noticed her questioning expression. “In the guest room I mean. Just cause we have an early training tomorrow and I don’t want you to be exhausted.” You quickly added. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” She smiled shyly at you. “Okay, be right back.” You stated as you sprinted towards your bedroom.

You returned a few minutes later with a bunch of stuff in your arms. “Here’s an unused toothbrush, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and I didn’t know what you like to sleep in so here’s some shorts, joggers, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Wear whatever you want.” You rambled nervously as she chuckled. “Thank you Y/N. Good night.”

The next morning, your alarm blared, pulling you from the depths of sleep. Groggily, you stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Training awaited, and as you yawned your way through the morning routine, the events of the previous night flashed in your mind. You couldn’t help but glance at Alessia, who was already up, seemingly more awake than you were. She flashed you a tired yet friendly smile. “Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Morning,” you replied, trying to shake off the remnants of your dreams. The two of you exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the peculiar situation you found yourselves in.

As you headed to training together, you couldn’t ignore the amused glances from your teammates. Alessia, clad in your training gear because she hadn’t brought her own, was the target of playful banter. “Nice walk of shame, Alessia!” Katie teased, eliciting laughter from others. “You two look tired, looks like our chemistry experiments worked a little too wel!” Quipped Beth, pointing out the bags under both your eyes.

Training progressed as usual, but not without the occasional teasing from one of your teammates. You knew none of them really meant anything by it though. Everyone knew it was just a bit and that the two of you were no more than friends. And so did you, cause that was the deal, right? 

“You know,” Alessia began when the two of you were alone for a second after Katie asked her when you were planning your next sleepover, “despite all the teasing and the fake girlfriend stuff, I’m kind of enjoying getting to know you better.” You felt your cheeks starting to flush as you took in her genuine smile. “Yeah, me too. It’s strange how these things work out.” You tried your best to reciprocate her smile without blushing too hard. What on earth was happening to you?

The day went by swiftly as the prospect of having Alessia around as your fake girlfriend all weekend had you slowly spiral into a nervous wreck. When Friday afternoon finally arrived, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror as you went over the many things that could go wrong. What if your parents didn’t believe it? What if they did? What would that even mean? What if she never even showed up cause who were you to think she would do something like that for you? What if her boyfriend got mad? What if she suddenly started liking you, for real? What if she didn’t?

You splashed water in your face, desperately trying to stop your mind from spiralling, and more specifically to erase those last thoughts. Where was your mind coming up with all this none-sense? Was there something more to this? Another splash. No. None-sense. You groaned as you watched drops of water trickle down your face. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?” You heard Lotte’s voice call out from the other side of the locked bathroom door. “Less is here.” You inhaled a sharp breath as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself. “Be right there!”

“You’re early,” is the first thing you said when you came out of the bathroom after quickly drying yourself off and fixing your hair. “Nice to see you too.” A kindly smiling Alessia appeared once you opened the door. “Thought I’d help you prepare before your parents show up. Hey, are you okay?” She gazed at you as if she was examining your current state. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, hi, thank you for being here.” You opened up your arms as an invitation for a hug which she accepted immediately.

“Allright, lovebirds, I’m out.” Lotte said, suitcase in hand as she hugged you both goodbye, leaving for a little romantic getaway with her boyfriend. “Have fun!” You both shouted at the same time as she closed the door behind herself.

You spent the next hour or so getting the house ready for your parent’s arrival and providing Alessia with all the necessary information on your family, as if you were doing a last minute study session for an exam.

Then, a knock on the door echoed through the house, signalling the arrival of your parents. A surge of nerves shot through you as you exchanged a quick glance with Alessia. You both took a deep breath, steeling yourselves for the upcoming performance. “Ready?” Alessia whispered, and you nodded, though your heart was doing a drumroll in your chest.

-> Chapter II

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc

[wildestdreamsblog]

I'm Yoongi's bitch so I can have one “What was supposed to be a one night stand with a member turned out to be more when he couldn’t let go” with him?

Where You Belong

Pairing: CEO!Min Yoongi x Secretary!Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Light Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: I too am Yoongi’s bitch. Also I wrote this while I had six glasses of whiskey if there’s error, pls do forgive sksks. I hope you enjoy this! <3

3000 celebration

“Fucking finally,” Min Yoongi growled as he thrusted his hard member into you. The loud sound of flesh slapping against each other was loud in his bedroom. He had always thought it would be good with you, but fuck if he expected it to be this fucking good.

You were like a custom made for him, like one of those bespoke suits he was always fond of. The moment you entered in his office four years ago, he had felt the growing attraction he had tried to squash to no avail. Min Yoongi had tried so many things, but you were engraved in his skin…so deep that he knew removing you would be fatal to him.

You were his trusty secretary, someone he could really leaned on. But you were more than that. You proved to be more than that. You were his friend, his confidant, someone who took care of him when he overworked himself which he tended to do a lot.

You were his.

Simply his.

Yet the moment you casually mentioned that some other firm reached out to you to recruit you, he lost it.

Yoongi really thought he could rein his intrusive emotions, but he was proven wrong.

It was late at night when the two of you reached the hotel. You were in another city after finishing closing a partnership when you quietly brought it up to your cold boss. You wanted to slowly integrate him to the thought of you leaving, knowing full well that he didn’t do well with sudden changes.

Not when it came to you.

Never when it came to you.

You had developed feelings for him two years ago, and you knew it wasn’t healthy for you to stay. It wasn’t good for you to wait for him, not when he proved time after time that you were just a secretary to him. Not when he looked at you as though he never saw you for who you were.

You needed to move on from this stupid crush.

Having just finish debriefing with him, you thought that now was a good time to tell him your intentions slowly.

Yoongi closed his laptop, the workaholic in him finally feeling at ease now that the contract was done, and it was all because of your hard work. He looked at you with his dark eyes, admiring your strength and professionalism- yet he knew he couldn’t cross the line…unless you did first.

“Let’s go to the museum you want to visit tomorrow-“

“Enhypen company reached out to me,” you cut him off, your voice strong despite feeling the exact opposite. You almost wanted to take the words back when you saw his face lost all its emotions. You were now facing the Yoongi that people feared.

“Excuse me?”

“T-they want to interview me next week-“

Yoongi chuckled lowly before slowly placing his laptop on the coffee table. He loosened his tie, his movements precise even as his eyes were on you. “And what did you say, kitten? I hope you put them down gently…”

You gulped as he stared at you as though he could see through your soul, as though he knew the secrets you kept.

As though he knew you were in love with him long before you admitted it to yourself. And it was because of that that you knew you had to leave this stupid crush behind and move on with your life. “I told them…” you trailed off when you saw him tilted his head, his dark eyebrow raised as he waited for you to continue with nonchalance in his movements. He leaned in, his elbows resting on his knees as he waited for you to decide on his face.

“Yes, kitten? You told them no, right? That’s good. No one deserves you as much as I-“

“I told them I’ll go next week.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room. The silence was suffocating, his glare was like vines keeping you in place. It took forever before he scoffed. He couldn’t believe you were considering leaving him.

“No.”

You blinked owlishly at the man sitting in front of you. “No?”

“You heard me,” he postulated as though it was a done deal. “You’re not going to that fucking interview. You’re not going to leave. You’re going to stay by my side.”

Your could feel your heart beat faster as though it was warning you of the danger that was slowly standing and sauntering to you.

And when he was close enough, he leaned in to whisper, “No one can have you but me.”

You cried in pleasure as Yoongi drew another orgasm from you. He was relentless when he heard you would leave him, became unhinged with the thought of never seeing you again.

He couldn’t have that, could he?

Yet, the moment he fell asleep, you knew you had to leave. You couldn’t survive when morning came and he looked at you with indifference once again.

Or when he would tell you it was a mistake.

You just couldn’t.

And so you left his embrace that felt like home.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked in barely contained anger as he looked at your direct subordinate. It was nine o’clock and yet, you were nowhere to be seen. You were usually here by seven in the morning. When he woke up without you, he lost it. The hotel room was the telltale sign of him losing his ever loving composure. It took you running to crumble his nonchalant facade.

“S-she resigned, sir-“

“You’re fired.”

But the letter neatly placed on his desk was notice enough of you leaving the company, of you leaving him.

As if you could.

He would make sure there was no place on earth you could hide from him.

“Are you insane?” You seethed as you saw him. He was calmly sat down, his evil lawyer looking at you with soulless eyes. “Fifty million just because I left?”

Min Yoongi shrugged, his eyes looked bored. But he was anything but bored. He felt alive now that he could finally see you.

It took tons of lawsuit before you agreed to meet with him.

“You breached the contract.”

“It specifically said that I can leave whenever I want!”

“Tsk tsk,” Yoongi shook his head in faux sadness before smirking at you. “You should have read the contract carefully, my kitten. It says here you can’t leave me. Ever.”

You slammed your hands on the desk, your anger getting the best of you. Couldn’t you just moved on in peace?!

“I know what I signed! This isn’t it!”

“Then prove it.”

But how could you when he had all the resources in the world to make you stay? He knew it. You knew it. That smug smirk of his was a sign he knew he had you cornered.

Kitten, you really should have known you couldn’t leave. Not when he finally understood what he felt for you, not now. Not ever.

At your defeated expression, he softened his expression and reached out his long, veiny hand to clasp yours. “Or come back to me. This is the only way, kitten.”

Come back, and he swore that he would always make you happy.

That he would be the best husband for you.

That you would never, ever want to leave him.

#min yoongi x you #bts fic #bts yandere #3000 celebration #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #yandere yoongi #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi yandere #suga x y/n

[viennacherries]

LONGING

Dammon/Tav | NSFW | 4,318 words

"The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked."

~~~

Dammon is completely enthralled with Tav. She's obsessed with him, too, but she makes him wait for it. He gets what he wants eventually.

Read it on AO3

~~~

The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked.

She's absolutely gorgeous, all petite frame with strong muscles. Her skin is pale and covered in freckles, from her face to the backs of her hands as she shakes his in greeting. She has one of those smiles that tells him she's definitely going to cause problems on purpose. He knows as soon as he sees her that she's the one who saved the Archdruid and took out the goblin camp. She just has that aura about her that tells you she's absolutely deadly. Unfortunately, thats exactly his type.

It's even more unfortunate, because she certainly notices. She can absolutely tell that he's completely smitten with her the minute their eyes meet, and it's when he gets his first glimpse of that smile of hers. The one the says she's going to make his life hell and she's going to enjoy every minute of it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

Still, he's the absolute picture of cordiality and good manners. He thanks her for helping them, and even whacks a healthy discount onto his wares in the name of repaying her. He is completely polite and entirely appropriate.

She winks at him as she leaves.

He thinks about it for the next tenday.

~~~

When he sees her again at Last Light Inn, his immediate response is relief. The Shadow-Cursed Lands are cruel and brutal, and after what befell their caravan he was concerned her party wouldn't make it through in one piece. Especially taking into account her considerable affinity for finding herself in danger.

She's barely been at the inn a half hour before there's winged ghouls descending on them.

It's the first time Dammon has the pleasure of watching her fight, and it does nothing to ease the burgeoning flame he's been kindling for her in his chest. When he's done analysing her armour and has come to the conclusion she needs heavier plating, he just observes her.

She's lithe and muscular, and she spins around and through enemies as though she's dancing a pasodoble. Her every movement is precise, considered, calculated. She takes each step like she decided she would take it 5 steps prior, confident and assured. Her fighting style is just as elegant and brutal, all up close slashes and jabs that make quick work of her mark. And Hells, the way she wields her blade. It's a huge, hulking thing, just over half her height, but you wouldn't think it with the way she swings it around like it weighs nothing. The blade itself is simple, boring looking, and Dammon swears to himself in that moment he'll make her something better, something as brilliant and powerful as her. Something deserving of her finesse.

The fight's over almost as suddenly as it began, and he watches as she plants her sword into one of the floorboards, leaning on it with her forearms as she pants and tries to catch her breath. A long bead of sweat falls down over her brow, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand, smearing ghoul blood across her face in the process. Covered in viscera, and somehow she looks radiant. She catches his eye, smiles that awful smile of hers, and winks across the room at him.

She finds him later in his forge, while he's busy hammering out an old sword someone's donated to him. Dammon doesn't notice her til he turns to quench the metal and finds her leaning against the wall, watching him work.

"Tav, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He uses his scarf to dab some of the sweat off his brow.

She's got that grin on her face again as she trails her gaze over him, like she's appraising him. "Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

He's covered in sweat, he can feel it dripping down his back and neck. It makes him think back to the fight earlier, when she was drenched in her own. He thinks about folding her in half, til they're both dripping with each other's exhaustion.

He clears his throat.

"You flatter me, truly," he's quite proud of how even his voice comes out. "What can I do for you?"

She smirks, "well, I was wondering if you had any suggestions? You seemed to be watching me earlier, so I assume you have a comment to make concerning my equipment."

He knows she's trying to tease him, but he nods anyway. He does have thoughts about her equipment, and now she's asked. That means it's not his fault if he rambles for entirely too long about the merits of different alloys.

"Yes, actually. I think you could do with some heavier plating. You favour fighting up close which is admirable, but it puts you directly in the path of your opponent's blade. You need something stronger to protect you."

Her smirk drops. She clearly wasn't expecting him to have actual advice. "I don't like heavy plating, it makes it harder to move around."

He nods enthusiastically, "yes, yes, you're constantly in motion while you fight. I believe your current armour is steel? It's strong, but some of it's integrity and strength has been compromised to keep it light, and even then you're only wearing half-plates. You need something just as strong, but far lighter. That way you can afford to wear more plating without losing your range of motion and speed."

Her eyebrow is quirked, and she looks somewhat impressed. "Interesting. What would you suggest?"

"Mithril, without a doubt. It's half the weight of steel but it's just as strong. You could wear a full set of plating and it'd feel identical in mass to the half-plates you have currently."

She nods thoughtfully, "I'll keep an eye out, then." The smirk finds its way back onto her face. "Was there anything else?"

There's a brief pause before Dammon speaks again.

"You need a new sword. That one's absolutely dreadful."

The laugh she lets out is musical, and it only serves to pour oil onto the flame in his chest. It roars up like an inferno

~~~

It's embarrassing, the amount of time he spends thinking about her. The image of her, pirouetting through the air as she sinks her blade through the skull of a monstrosity, haunts his every waking thought. Even sleep doesn't provide respite from her visage, and he finds himself waking up every morning achingly hard from another unconscious imagining of the ways he'd like to ruin her.

He wants to tear her apart beneath his hands. He wants to have her desperate and begging underneath him. Wants to tie her up and strap her down and use her until she's craving anything he'll give her, helpless and needful and falling apart at the seams. He wants to see the strong muscles in her arms bulge against her restraints as she writhes and pulls at her bindings, itching to touch him.

He wants her to do the same to him. Wants her to show him just how strong she is by pinning him down with one hand and taking what she wants from him.

It's getting really fucking inconvenient, to be honest. He thinks of her constantly while he works in the city, the bustle of Baldur's Gate around him not enough to distract him, the temperature of his forge only stirring the heat within him further. It makes him think of the way she'd looked at him that night at Last Light, like she was ready to devour him whole.

He lays in bed at night and fists his length desperately, smutty book held in one hand almost as tight as his cock in the other, imagining he's hovered over her, devouring her, filling her, anything and everything. It's depraved, the things he imagines, lewd and scandalous.

And then suddenly one morning she's at his door.

He doesn't hear her coming, so he's snuck up on once again as he turns to quench the commission he's working on.

She looks so different, wearing regular clothes instead of armour. It makes her look softer, but she's also wearing short sleeves which show off the muscles in her arms. It makes him a little weak in the knees.

"Tav? I'm glad to see you again! To what do I-"

"Owe the pleasure?" She doesn't let him finish. "To pleasure, I hope."

He's dousing the forge as soon as the words leave her mouth.

~~~

"Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

She furrows her brow from her seat on his sofa, "anything stronger?"

"I've got a couple bottles of Arabellan Dry?"

"That'll do." She's smirking again.

He leaves the room to get the bottles and a couple of glasses, and when he comes back she's taken her shirt off.

"Here's what we're going to do." Her voice is firm but playful. "I've taken off a piece of clothing, so I get to ask you a question. You have to answer honestly. If you answer it, you take off a piece of your clothing and then you get to ask me something back. If you don't answer, I put all my clothes back on and I walk out of the door."

He gulps, "what if you don't answer?"

The smirk that graces her lips is absolutely diabolical, "oh, Dammon," the way she says his name is even worse, "I'll answer anything. I'm an open book."

He sits on the couch next to her, pours them both a glass of wine and hands her one. "Then by all means, ask away."

She looks delighted, and her gaze is predatory. "Do you prefer giving or recieving?"

Straight to the point then.

"I like both," he shrugs as he says it, "suppose it just depends on the day and the context. If I had to pick just one, though, I'd rather give."

She nods thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything, watching him expectantly. He downs half his glass of wine and then yanks his shirt over his head.

"What about you? Giving or recieving?"

"Hm. Repeating my question is a bit cheap, but I'll allow it this once. I like both, too. I don't have a preference, really, just depends on my partner." She's barely finished speaking when she stands to unbuckle her bottoms, pulling them off swiftly and sitting back down. The sight of her, dressed in only her underclothes on his furniture, makes his head spin and his other head throb.

"So you like being on top. You like being in charge? Dominating?"

He swallows around the lump in his throat and nods, "yeah. I like... I like making my partner beg." He can feel his skin flushing with the admission, but he keeps talking. "I like making them come undone underneath me until they can't take it anymore. I like making them squirm and give themselves to me entirely."

Tav's breath is caught in her throat, and he realises that she likes it. Wants it. Knowing that fills him with confidence, and he takes another swig of his wine before standing and slowly undoing his bottoms. He pulls them down slowly, teasingly, and he watches as her gaze follows the line of his body. He tenses the muscles in his arms as he lifts the discarded clothes and folds them, and he hears her breathing grow heavier. He places them to the side and sits down closer to her than he was before, lifting her wine glass to her lips and urging her to drink from it. She does, their eyes locked. A drop spills down the side of her mouth, and before she can wipe it away he leans in and licks it from her lips. Her eyes close as she groans in the back of her throat.

He feels high on it. Having her here, knowing she wants him, seeing how receptive she is to him. His next question comes easily.

"Do you like being tied up?"

Her eyes are hooded with lust when she finally makes eye contact with him again. "Yes." She fumbles with the clasp of her bra behind her but fails at undoing it, so he places their glasses back on the table and leans forward towards her, snaking his arms around her back and unclasping it for her. It falls away from her onto the floor, and he takes a breast in each hand. She hisses through her teeth.

"What do you want to do to me?" It's quiet. Sensual. Her voice is absolutely dripping with desire.

"What don't I want to do to you." He smooths his hands down her body, sliding one round to her lower back and slowly pushing her to lay down on the couch as he hovers over her. "I want to tie you to my headboard and taste you until your legs shake. I want to have you begging for my tongue and my hands and my cock. I want to fold you in half and bury myself so deep that you forget what it feels like not to be full of me. I want to absolutely ruin you, if you'll let me."

Their lips are so close now, a hair's width away, and the air is charged around them. When he speaks, it's a whisper against her skin.

"Will you let me?"

She groans out loud and surges up to lock their lips together. It's open mouthed and hungry, more tongue than lips, and they both moan into it as they finally taste each other. His hand is still at the base of her spine and he drags her upwards towards him, grinding against her as he does, and she lets out a beautiful little whimper that has him feeling hazy. He pulls away, just enough to speak.

"Use your words, sweetheart. You want me to ruin you?"

" Yes ."

He tuts. "Say please."

She moans, low and needy in the back of her throat. " Please. "

He stands quickly and lifts her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom. She wraps her arms around his neck and sucks and kisses around his collarbone, and the feeling of her skin against his, her mouth on him, has him absolutely feral.

He practically throws her down onto the bed, and she bounces a few times before settling and crawling her way backwards toward the headboard. The sight of her hair splayed out on his pillows and her naked torso against his sheets is going to haunt him for eternity, he's sure of it. He lets himself admire her.

"Stay there, gorgeous. Don't even think about moving."

She nods, reaching up to palm at her breasts, and she looks like a vision. Like a renaissance painting, a beautiful torment put there just for him. Her fingers brush her nipples, teasing and pinching them, and the subsequent hiss of pleasure she lets out shoots straight through him to his cock. It's almost painful how hard he is, but he's going to take his time with her. Going to take her apart and put her back together with his hands and mouth, smelt her down and reforge her into something new.

Dragging his eyes away from her feels like an impossible task, but he manages and turns to root through the drawer of his bedside table. He finally finds what he's searching for: a length of silky material that's meant to be a blindfold, but that he usually shoves between his teeth to bite down on when he's being particularly noisy. He hangs it over his shoulder and turns back to face her, crawling over her and wrenching her hands away from her tits. He pins them over her and she arches up against him.

"Your safeword," he starts "is 'forge'. You say it, everything stops. If you can't speak for any reason, you tap me three times. Doesn't matter how you tap me, can be your hands, can be your foot. Same deal, you do that and I stop completely no questions asked. Repeat it back to me."

She's panting, "safeword is forge. 3 taps. Stops everything."

"No questions asked."

She nods, "no questions asked."

He holds her wrists above her with one hand, trails his other hand down her arms, along her throat, and brings his hand under her chin. "Good girl."

She moans fully at that, arching and writhing against him at his words, and he feels drunk off it. Having her falling apart before he's even started, so helpless and ready for him. It's intoxicating. When he kisses her it's because he literally can't stop himself, he has to taste her. He nips and bites at her lips and she huffs and sighs with every touch, so responsive and so eager, and he could die right now a happy man knowing he's the one drawing these quiet noises from her.

He pulls away from the kiss, straddling her hips and sitting up on his knees over her. He keeps her hands pinned to the bed with one hand, and he pulls the silk length from his shoulder with his free one. She shudders as he drags it slowly along her torso, the soft fabric cool to the touch. He wraps it around her wrists to bind them together.

"Too tight?"

She tugs her wrists apart slightly and bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, shaking her head. He ingrains the image of her, below him and wanting, into his brain.

The free ends of the silk he wraps around the post of his headboard, tying them in a tight knot. Lacing his fingers with hers, he tugs at her hands to test it. The knot holds fast, and he hums in satisfaction. He sits back on his haunches to admire her, runs his hands down her arms to come to rest at her sides, squeezing the skin there. There's a little bit of give to her that lets him get a good grip of her, and she wriggles below him.

Her breasts spill towards her armpits and he can't resist, he brings his hands up to cup them both and teases both of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching them into hardened peaks. She lets out more of her quiet little noises, needy and wanton and absolutely delectable. When he leans forward and latches his lips around one of the buds, she arches her back into him, making a choked noise of surprise and pleasure, and his cock aches with how badly he needs her. He teases it with his teeth, laves it with his tongue, sucks it into his mouth and tugs away from her gently until she's a puddle beneath him, and only then does he switch to the other nipple and give it the same treatment while he slowly drags her small-clothes down her legs and off of her.

Everything about her is soft and tender. He's never been with someone who wasn't a tiefling before, and her body feels so entirely different to his own. Her skin is smooth and pliant under his, far softer than he thought she'd be from watching her fight. Her skin is cooler than his, too. It makes him shudder as he positions himself between her legs, holding them wide open either side of his face, with his hands spread over the inside of her thighs.

"What do you do if you want me to stop?" He whispers it against her core, mouth just barely brushing against her skin, and she shudders.

"Safeword, or three taps."

"And the safeword is?"

"'Forge'."

"Good girl. I'm going to taste you, now."

He covers her with his mouth before she can respond, and they both moan in tandem. Her from the feeling of his tongue sliding against her clit, him from the musky taste of her arousal. She's like nothing he's ever had before, completely incomparable, but she tastes rich and delicious and he licks his way into her core to taste her deeper. He doesn't start slow or gentle, he's wanted her cunt in his mouth for months and he's going to enjoy it. He drags his tongue over her in firm, insistent lines, and uses the tip of his tongue to massage her inner walls. It has her keening, crying, shaking, and her legs wrench closed from the sensations. Obviously, that can't stand, so he curls his tail around one of her ankles and pulls , and now it's pulled out taunt and she can't move it any further than an inch in any direction. It also has the added benefit of freeing one of Dammon's hands, and he wastes no time in trailing it around her entrance and slipping two fingers inside her. He crooks them upwards towards her stomach, and she wails, canting her hips further into his mouth and his tongue where it devours her clit relentlessly.

He knows she close, because she can't stop her hips from stuttering, and there's a constant stream of breathy high pitched noises forcing their way out of her. He doesn't let up, increases his pace if anything, and then she's coming around his fingers. He pulls them out enough to fit his tongue underneath her, swallowing down every drop of her as she finds her release, licking her through it. He only stops when he feels three taps of her foot against leg.

He sits up instantly. "Are you okay? Do you want me to untie you?"

She laughs shakily, "no! Gods, no, don't. It was just getting too sensitive."

He smirks at that, "good. Now then," He comes up onto his knees between her thighs, trailing his hands along her stomach. She shivers. "I removed a piece of your clothing. If I'm remembering the rules of our little game right, that means you get to ask me a question."

She doesn't even hesitate, "Can you hurry up and fuck me?" A pause. "...Please?"

He chokes out a laugh, "goodness, Tav, how crass of you."

She groans, throwing her head back, "please, Dammon, I need you inside me like yesterday."

"Hm. Next time, you'll have to ask me nicer than that. But right now I'm so desperate to fuck you I'll allow it. I've waited far too long for this."

She smirks despite herself, "oh? You have? I had no idea , Dammon."

He growls a little in the back of his throat, and scoots himself forward on his knees, lifting her ass and resting it on his thighs. He pulls his small-clothes aside roughly to free himself, groaning at the cool air as it caresses his length, and uses one hand to guide it as he pushes himself to the hilt in one small movement. The smirk dissolves off her face as her lips part in a silent moan. He chuckles quietly.

"Don't play coy, Tav." He grabs both her legs under her knees, brings them together and hooks them both over one shoulder. "You know exactly what you do to me. You know exactly how long I've wanted you." He leans over her slowly, until her knees are pressed up against her own chest. She keens. "You know how long I've waited for this. Don't you?" He pulls out slowly, teases her with just the tip in and out of her. " Don't you."

She throws her head back, eyes screwed shut. "Yes, yes, Gods I knew! I wanted you too!"

He snorts into her ear, "well you have me, sweetheart. Or rather,"

He crashes his hips into her. She keens.

"I have you."

He wastes no time. He sets a brutal pace and it's everything he's needed since the moment he saw her. Her legs presses together makes her so tight he sees stars, folding her in half means his cock kisses that perfect spot within her with every thrust. It's everything he imagined. It's better than anything he could've dreamt of. She's slick and warm and beautiful below him as she cries out his name, hips bucking to meet his own every time he slams into her.

He can't stop himself from rambling, words spilling out of him on their own accord. "Hells, Tav, you have no idea how many nights I spent thinking of you like this. How much I've wanted to take you like this, pinned underneath me and begging for me. Gods, you feel incredible. So wet for me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you wanted me."

She tries and fails, just making noises and taking deep laboured breaths. It's completely obscene and it's perfect.

He groans, "where, Tav? Where do you want me to finish? Where do you want my cum?"

Her moan is downright pornographic, "on my stomach, Dammon, please. Want to see your cum all over me."

Her words have him moving frantically inside her, and when she clenches around him with her second orgasm he's lost to it. He pulls himself from inside her, tugs himself twice before spilling across her torso. He paints her pale, freckled body in his spend and he wishes he was an artist so he could immortalise the image on paper.

When he feels like he can breathe again, he tucks himself back into his small-clothes, crawls his way up the bed to untie her wrists and he rubs them soothingly. She sigh, sounding content and comfortable.

"Are you okay?"

She spits out a single laugh, before descending into hysterics, and it's so infectious. He laughs alongside her.

"Am I okay? Dammon, that was fucking incredible. I'm gonna stay in this bed for the next week in the hopes of a few repeat performances."

He can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "A few, hm? I quite like the sound of that."

~~~

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon #bg3 tav #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

[festering-obsession]

N//S//F//W Alphabet with Na'vi! Oc x Human! Reader

Tw/Cw: Mature/Eighteen and Up Audiences Only, Slightly Dubious, Pure Smut, Gender Neutral Reader but Some Mentions of AFAB Genitalia

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hewu'itan is very reactive to your needs, but he mostly loves basking in the afterglow of sex with you. Seeing you out of breath, a slight sheen of sweat, you struggling to move, makes something awake in him. He'll help wipe the cum off you gently, prepare you a snack or water if you need as well. But most importantly, he will cuddle you to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms to hands. They've taken years to be this strong and precise. He knows exactly how to kill someone in his presence. But with you, he only wants you to know absolute pressure. On you? He honestly loves your entire body as cheesy as that sounds. He particularly loves the area around your chest and neck. So sensitive, he loves to bite and nip around there.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Not too terribly different from human semen, larger amount of it though. He loves to cum inside you, his favorite spot.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He watched you masturbate before he kidnapped you from the base. You really should have made sure your blinds were closed, even if you didn't think there was no one there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's not a virgin, but also not a sex God. Hewu'itan knows his anatomy and has engaged in casual sex for pleasure purposes only before he found you. Not at all experienced with humans, but he is a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Depends on the mood, but he loves the most intimate positions where he can look into your pleasured face. Missionary or the breeding press is always good, but he also loves lotus or anything with him pinning you to the wall.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, this is an intimate moment between the two of you, he doesn't want humor to invade that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don't really know if he really has any to shave honestly, Na'vi really don't seem to have that much hair besides on the head. But if he does, he at least makes sure he is trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It won't be the stereotypical romantic with the roses and candles in a dimly lit room, but his idea of romance I feel is better. The constellation perfectly lights the two of you while he fucks you atop the tree branches.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you, he didn't do it too often. Yet in the yearning stage with you, he most definitely did to the thought of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Not too out there. He has a thing for breeding and praise though. He most definitely has a size kink and whatever shows that, he loves. He also marks you with teeth, so biting kink as well?

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He takes it wherever he can honestly. His favorite is beneath the stars and the bioluminescent vegetation casting a glow on your beautiful skin.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally just you in general. You could ne wearing anything (or nothing), and he just goes near feral for that. However, if you do decide to play with his hair or any way tug at it, it does stimulate him and get him going.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you with anyone. Sure, some other Na'vi couples don't mind a third or even a fourth in a relationship, but he can't imagine sharing you with anyone. Your body belongs only to him during sex and beyond that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Due to your oxygen mask, he gives most the time. Hewu'itan doesn't mind at all though. His tongue and fingers work so well together and can fill you up better than anything you could imagine. His sharp canines also add a new and definitely pleasurable sensation.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

To you, he feels fast and rough, but to him he thinks he's going slower. It's hard to keep up with him, but Hewu'itan loves the fact he can see your fucked out face as he pounds into you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Although Hewu'itan does prefer long intimate sessions, he also doesn't mind quickies. If anything, the thrill of it excites him. They don't happen very often though since you're in his home most the time, but on the occasions he does take you out, he makes sure to savor it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's willing to experiment if you are interested as well. Nothing too dangerous or too public (because only he's allowed to see your body during such times).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You're own stamina will never match his. He's a hunter with excellent speed and endurance. Of course he will stop if you can't take more of it, but he push your limits on how much you can handle. He doesn't mean to but he does overestimulate you quite a bit (although I'm sure you wouldn't mind).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I'm pretty sure the Na'vi have sex toys even thought it may not be up to "human standards". He doesn't really own any, his fist was enough. He also doesn't really see the need of getting you some either. You have his cock, mouth, and fingers, what else can you need? However, if you beg him enough, he might try it. He'll learn to like them as he sees the toys as an extension of him giving you added pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not really a teaser, but he does have his moments. Especially when you're close to climax he might pull out a haughty remark about only how he's able to make you feel like this.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's quiet during most of it. He wants to hear you instead. However he does growl and groan lightly close to his climax.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has a thing for your breast most definitely. Wants a boobjob so bad because no matter what cup size they may be, it'll never be enough to wrap around his cock. This ties into his size kink.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hewu'itan is tall and slim, just like his cock. Even though it may not seem so girthy, to your human body it fills you up completely. Dark blue around the base with light stripes and the tip is a lovely light blue.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He had a normal libido to low libido before you, but now he feels in a constant state of horniness. He can mask it very well, but if you're feeling needy at any time he will drop what he's doing to come help you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Hewu'itan makes sure you are well taken care of before he thinks about it. He loves to slowly watch you succumb to sleep before he joins. He places you right on top of his chest with his arms securing you in place when he finally drifts off to sleep.

....

A/N: the blue alien dick you all have been waiting for.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #na'vi x reader #avatar way of water #na'vi imagines #alien x reader #alien x human #avatar x reader

[red1culous]

Glass Castle

Rolling onto your side you groan curling up into a fetal position. It seemed the best one to relieve the stabbing pain in your stomach. Once the worst wave of pain passed you wiped the tears from your eyes and grab the remote control deciding to distract yourself with something, anything on the telly. 

Water and medication would have been beneficial but you had no energy and the thought of getting up sounded like a form of medieval torture. Part of you wished you could call someone for help. If only your phone wasn’t out of charge. A self berating wave of self pity washes over you as you finally fall asleep, rigid and spent. 

You were so out of it you barely hear the front door opening 22 minutes later. 

“Y/N? Y/N?” Her voice filters through the fog of your brain. Your eyes flicker open but they feel heavy, like lead. The lights are bright forcing your eyes closed. You will them open again and a blur of dark blue and red hair move in front of you. You feel yourself being shifted. A light shines in your eyes. 

“Nat?” you groan when a light sting spreads across your cheek. 

“C’mon now you need to drink some water” she says leaning over you helping you get upright. 

The minute her hands are on you, you remember you hadn’t showered in days and probably looked like death personified. 

“You shouldn’t be here. You could get infected” you try but fail to hide the numb, somnolent panic to your plea. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says calmly, staring her determination into you. Her green eyes blazed, indomitable, and she was never more beautiful than she was right then. 

She hands you a glass of coconut water. “Drink” she instructs.

You gladly accept it taking a generous gulp. A little trickles down your chin and you quickly wipe it with the sleeve of your shirt. You notice that your clothes aren’t stiff with your own crusty dried vomit. The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks when you look down and see yourself in a fresh set of joggers and matching tee. 

“You changed me?” you ask. 

“Yes.” She nods as your face turns a beet red. “I also gave you a sponge bath well because…” she trails off before quickly adding, “Why? Self conscious?”

“Urgh,” you groan loudly and she chuckles. “Only that I shit myself and was covered in vomit. Not exactly how I pictured you seeing me for the first time, you know?”

“You pictured that huh?” she asks smirking.

You screw your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose realising that you had just exposed one of your deepest secrets to her. 

“You’re not a good person, picking on a dying person” you say your eyes still closed. 

She starts to laugh and you feel the whole bed shake with her. “You’re not dying. And I never said I was a good person” she says enjoying herself. 

This makes you look at her. And once you do you’re trapped by the foliant blaze of her green eyes. She doesn’t look away. You watch each other. Her eyes were softer, far softer than you had ever remembered them. 

She then pushes a lock of hair behind her ear with her thumb and forefinger. You find that you liked the hard-edged cleverness of her conversation, and the easy way she held your eyes until the precise moment when it stopped being comfortable, like right now, and then smiles, softening the assail, but never looking away. 

She knew. She had to know. 

-----

I have a taglist if you want to be on it.

@arcturusseer @readings-stuff @blackwidow-3 @justyourwritter69 @cutelittleakira @jareguiromanoff @sk1nnyftt @official-clint-barton @nattysredhair @black-kittycat18 @owloftheshadows @angryalpacachaos @iliketozoneout @marvelonmymind @wastdstime @lovelyy-moonlight @beholdagaywriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @33-mrvl

#redfic #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #glass castle

[444rockstargf]

so it begins...

10.01 - BDSM | CHARLIE WALKER!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @bub0nic-plague

taglist form + masterlist.

female!reader x ghostface!charlie

word count: 1.6k

contents: spanking, bondage, use of vibrator, overstimulation, unprotected p in v

and just like that, it was charlie’s favourite time of year once again. as soon as the clock struck 12:00 on october 1, you found that the entire house was filled with every halloween essential imaginable. but your favourite part of the holiday was his “trick or treating.” which was just him popping out and fucking you at anytime. truly horrific.

but there was only one rule: the mask stays on during sex. and he’ll never warn you about what’s to come, leaving to you mindlessly wonder about whatever stunt he’s planning. you light two candles and place them on your bedside table, the orange light giving your room an eerie glow.

you strolled over to your bed, sitting down and resting your back on the headboard, not knowing what to do with yourself. the knowledge that charlie could appear at anytime made you feel like you always had to be ready for him, which is why you decided to put on your blood-red silk nightgown just in case he decided to show up tonight.

your room had a chill, the slight breeze that came in through your window causing a few movements in your bedroom. you had picked up a book and started reading it just to kill time, but your mind began to wander elsewhere. there was something so beautiful about this season. it had become your favourite part of the year ever since you’d started dating charlie.

as you flipped through the thin pages of the novel, you found yourself growing drowsy, your motions becoming less precise. you set the book to the side, shifting over to lie down as you looked out the window. the thoughts in your mind started to melt into each other, creating a slurry of random little things that came into your mind, eventually causing you to drift off to sleep.

the wind sang a sweet melody that sent you into a deep sleep, making you completely oblivious to the presence of someone in your room. someone who only had the worst intentions for you tonight. feeling some sort of restriction around your body, your eyes sprung open and instantly began scanning the room.

you attempted to sit up, only to notice the thick rope that was binding your limbs together. you looked at every intricate knot, each one tied with razor-sharp precision. this could only be the work of one person. he was here. as you looked around the room, a firm hand grabbed your chin and forced your head in its direction. you were met by charlie, the emotionless expression on his mask somehow carrying a much more sinister aura.

“rise and shine, doll… ” his voice came out as the deep, distorted one that always turned you on. he gently stroked your cheek, watching as you squirmed to try and sit up. he gazed at your body, seeing how the gown accentuated every one of your curves. he picked you up by your waist and took a nice, long look at you. “wearing that for me, hm?” he chuckled softly before setting you down gently. it was at that moment that you noticed he had a brown bag on his back. one that held the contents that could’ve been the death of you.

he set the bag down, pushing you back into the headboard. your wrists and ankles were tied together, restricting you from making any extreme movements, so you could only watch as he shuffled through the bag, going through various objects that you couldn't quite make out. he joined you on the bed, sitting right in front of you.

you could tell that he was staring at you intently. the way his head travelled down your body was eating you alive. without warning, he put his hand on you and flipped you around, the quick move making your tiny little gown ride up your thighs and expose the soft skin of your ass. he pushed your head into the pillow and forced your hips into the air, brushing over his just a little.

he pulled the gown up to your waist, seeing the little jewelled buttplug that was stuffed in your asshole. “just couldn’t wait for me, huh?” you were wearing such a tiny thong that he could see the way your pussy was glistening, already begging to be used and destroyed. you heard a dark little chuckle come out of him, a shiver travelling through your spine. 

he picked the bag from the floor and dumped its contents onto your bed. you tried to turn to look, but you felt a harsh sting on your ass, making you yelp. you’d felt the familiar object many times before, but the initial shock never left. he gripped the paddle firmly before landing another painful slap. 

the loud smack sound rang through your ears with every slap. you couldn’t see it, but you could imagine the bruised colour your ass must have been turning, all to his delight. “i love seeing you get all wet like this…” he ran a thumb over your wet slit, the thin fabric of the thong penetrating you slightly. 

he gentleness of his touch allowed you to catch your breath, regaining your stamina. he tore off the thong and pulled your hair so that your head was lifted. he stuffed the panties in your mouth, forcing you to take it. “i don’t want to hear a word from you tonight, understand?” you simply nodded, not wanting to make this difficult for him just yet.

he gave your sore ass a gentle pat before moving to the assortment of toys on the bed. you could only judge what he picked by the sound. you heard the flick of a button followed by a light buzzing sound. he was starting off with your favourite. he rested himself behind you, watching your pussy pulsate with desire.

he brought the toy close to your clit, just barely making contact with it and saw how you were already melting from the minimal amount of teasing. he pressed the toy onto your clit, muffled moans starting to escape from your mouth. you rolled your hips into the toy, only to have it pulled away from you just as quickly.

“don’t get too needy, doll. i’d hate to have to punish you.” his tone said otherwise. you whined as you searched for the vibrations, already feeling a wave of heat washing through your sensitive bud. he pressed it back onto you, using your wet slick as a lubricant to easily slide it up and down. 

you were whining, whimpering, and gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles turned blue. you felt your body mimicking the vibrations of the toy, the pleasure already becoming unbearably overwhelming. you felt yourself gushing all over the toy as he quickly dragged it over every part of your dripping cunt.

he pushed you through so many orgasms that he was certain that you had forgotten your own name. your pillow was drenched with spit and tears that came out of you. you had lost track of time, only knowing that he would keep going until he was ready to stop. and you knew that wasn’t coming any time soon.

you were a sobbing, shaky mess, your hips uncontrollably bucking into the toy. your body had been pushed far over the edge, but you just couldn't get enough of the sensation. your cum dripped down the toy, onto his clothed hand and all the way down to your sheets, saturating them.

he soon ceased the abuse on your sore little clit, chuckling a little as he saw the mess that you had turned into. you very stupidly thought that he was done with you. that is until you felt your overused pussy become stuffed by every single inch of his length. you screamed out, your body jerking into the bed as he started fucking your quickly.

your ass recoiled with every thrust, his hands keeping such a firm grip on your hips that it was sure to leave even more bruises. you came as soon as he pushed his cock into you, already leaving a white ring around his base. he went so fast that you were completely unable to process a single thought.

he had turned made you completely cockdrunk, every time he pulled out making you whine. you were exhausted, but you still craved more of this intoxicating feeling. he grabbed the vibrator again and pressing it against your pussy as he pounded into you, making your soul leave your body.

you squirted uncontrollably on his length, starting to feel extremely worn out. he kept up this excruciating mixture of pain and pleasure on your body until you were completely fucked out. “getting tired?” his voice indicated that he was getting to that point as well. you nodded frantically, your orgasms now being completely dry.

“say please like a good girl, then maybe i’ll consider.” you attempted to get the word out, but your speech was muffled and slurred. even so, he pulled out of you and flicked off the toy’s switch. you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on the bed instantly. your pussy was red and swollen from the hours of torture, but you loved the feeling of being destroyed like this.

he picked up your feet, untying the rope in a swift movement and doing the same to your wrists. you were lying back on the bed, still trying to regain your composure. as tired as you were, you loved this feeling more than anything. you lifted your head, wanting to thank charlie for treating you so well tonight, but he was already gone, leaving nothing but a cool breeze to take his place.

author's note: lets be real yall: kinktober was literally made for charlie walker. but i am writing for all of rory's characters just to mix things up a little. thanks for reading!!

#kinktober #halloween #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #scream franchise #whats your favorite scary movie #scream 4 #ghostface #ghostface x reader #charlie walker smut #smut #444rockstargf

[rhiannswork]

Hello ! I hope you're well! request for tasm!peter parker x reader :)

It's nighttime and Reader has a nightmare about her own death or something, and wakes up in a panic. Reader decides to go to her boyfriend Peter's even though he's not home, to at least feel safe in his bed. She goes back to sleep at his place. And some time later there's a fire or something at her place, and Peter panics when he hears that her building is on fire. Hours later he goes home depressed and dejected that he hasn't seen her, doesn't know if she's safe. And he sees her on his bed.

Sorry if this is too precise ahah feel free to change it to your liking!

safe and sound || p. parker ( tasm )

an: i loved this request so much. this fic might seem rushed tho, so sorry!!!!

warnings: nightmare, burning building, breaking and entering ??, umm anxiety, blood. lmk if i missed smth

it was the middle of the night, you woke up on the couch. you don’t remember falling asleep there but then again, you were ready to fall asleep anywhere really once you gotten home from work.

you sluggishly walked back into your room, your eyes were steadily adjusting to the darkness. you had noticed someone laying in your bed, somebody who looked just like you.

your breath hitched, as you quickly turned the light on. they were completely lifeless, blood slowly pouring from their mouth. you eyed a big stain of blood on the duvet. you walked over, taking a closer look.

it was you, that was you lying in that bed. how could that be possible? you didn’t get that much time to dwell on the thought as you had been grabbed by your hair.

you took a glance at your vanity mirror as you say a tall, red, glowing figure before being flung into a corner. the figure began to grow brighter until it was red.

you felt suffocated at this moment, you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t really move, all you could do is lay there and feel life leave your body to become vacant.

that’s when you shot up out of bed, gasping for air. you looked around your room, no glowing figure, no blood… must’ve been a nightmare.

you had a bad feeling in your gut, you didn’t want to go back to sleep, not like you could anyway. you grabbed your phone from the ground, only to realize that you phone was dead.

you got out of bed and ran over to the light switch, turning it on quicker than the actual speed of light. you packed an overnight bag, you put your toiletries in a dark blue jansport bag. along with a casual outfit.

you went to go grab your keychain, which held peters house keys on it. you decided to go there, so he could comfort you at this hour. to be honest, he was the only one that you wanted to be comforted by.

you had driven far from your apartment, going to peters home. you passed by a couple of fire trucks headed the opposite way, not paying any mind. you couldn’t take your mind off the nightmare.

you finally made it to peters home, the garage lights began beaming as the sensors spotted you. you crept up to the door and unlocked it.

the house was clean and very perfected, you were guessing aunt may had just dropped by. she cleans up every time she visits. you removed your shoes before walking any further into the house.

“peter?” you whispered, walking to the back, hoping you hear some sort of response. “peter.” you spoke sternly.

no response.

you went to his room, the first thing you noticed was peter not being there. the window was opened slightly, the cool midnight air flowing throughout the room.

nonetheless, you removed your hoodie and laid the packed bag on the floor. you laid down in the bed, picking up the faint cologne on the pillows. it didn’t take you long to fall asleep, even without peter, the comfort of his room and bedding soothed you.

meanwhile, peter had been swinging to the opposite side of town. he had heard on the police radio that he kept on his nightstand. he carried the radio with you,

he got there as fast as he could, he spotted a crowd of people. he had began walking around, trying to find your beautiful eyes and yet he never met them.

‘it’s spider-man!’ ‘hey, it’s the bug boy!’ he nodded, making his way through. he webbed up to the balcony of the apartment building.

he didn’t pay attention to the fire slowly seeping through his suit. “y/n!” he yelled. “y/n?!” he yelled louder. he specifically went down to your level. “jesus christ…” he muttered, watching the floor practically come apart.

he felt the cracking under his own feet, he tried to speed his way through the building, rushing to saftey.

he was freaking out, he called you repeatedly. it went straight to voicemail every time. he couldn’t bare to swing his way home. he had to process the last twenty minutes. he had lost you, it felt like a piece of him was taken away.

after a while, he made it back home. he took off his suit as soon as entered his home. he needed to remove that restricting suit. it was all burned and completed with holes.

he stumbled his way to his bedroom in defeat. he didn’t know what to do. he just wanted to curl up in his bed, never to leave it again.

peter opened the door to his room, the darkness surrounding him. he looked toward his bed, he noticed the lump in the bed, a familiar one.

he slowly walked over to the bed, he saw the beautiful locks he thought he’d never see again. he felt the weight come off his shoulders, you were here, safe and sound.

he crawled into bed, like he intended to do minutes before, only this time, you would be found in his arms, held closely to his chest.

#tasm!peter x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader

[deafsignifcantother]

is that enough? (nsfw)

♥ summary: asa comes home from the most irritating kill he's had so far, and is less affectionate to his wife as a result. she is not impressed by this behavior at all, and tries to find a way to [stubbornly] cheer the both of them up [very stubbornly].

♥ relationship: asa emory x wife deaf reader

♥ word count: 4.3k

♥ warnings: reader is a brat, lots of murder talk, sex scene ends with a time jump and doesn't finish tbh bc i just wanted to form a story around the paragraph he says LOL.

✦

When I said I would l die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

✦

You continue to shift around in your bed, the room so dark except for one beam of moonlight. For the last hour, you've gone from staring at the ceiling to lying on your stomach against a pillow.

Asa was not back by now, which raised no such concern; you were just annoyed. He knew precisely what was expected and what time you wanted him home (giving a curfew to a killer? only you).

And alas, as you lay on your side and stare out of the window, you notice the reflection of your bedroom door opening. Asa's head peeks in. His eyes are dull; it's the only detail you can point out in the dark.

You instantly turn and hold your hand out for him to touch. He doesn't respond to you or acknowledge you at all, only stares. His eyes hold no compassion; he stares right through you. It takes a few seconds before he even moves. Your eyebrows furrow while you watch him shut the door before he climbs into bed beside you.

You wrap your arms around him and kiss his shoulder. Is he trying to unease you on purpose? Possibly, or else it's something that happened while he was out.

He's entirely still except for the slow breaths he takes. Noticeable only by the whites of his eyes, he's looking at the ceiling. If he continues acting like this, you'll run up, turn on the lights, and shove your hands in his face.

With the instincts of a devoted husband, he adds motion to the moment of stillness. He lifts one hand. The dark almost silences him. "What?"

You let out a small laugh through your nose. You curl up into him, placing a hand on his chest in case he wants to communicate more--explain himself.

Your throat rumbles as you hum, trying to make out Asa's facial structure, wondering if your voice can get him to smile. But he's unresponsive for more and more seconds until, finally, he moves again; he takes your wrist and uses your hand to sign the word tired on his bicep.

Tension is subtle; it worsens when he turns his back towards you. You gasp and immediately climb over him like the clingy wife you are. You push him onto his back and straddle him.

Your head rings with apologies that you know will come bursting through. If he pushes you off, you won't even argue. In this position, you realize the moon's light hits you, and he can see what you sign to him: "Stop lying to me."

His eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise, and he stubbornly remains still. You have grown quite bold with him. He looks up at you as you glare down at him with your head tilted slightly. The look on your face makes him want to smile, but he needs some entertainment; what can irritate you for the next few minutes?

Both of your hands rest on his chest, and you feel the rough texture of his shirt, one you swore you ironed this morning.

Stubbornly, you remain quiet.

He finally decides to say something, his signs abrupt and aggressive. "I killed someone tonight."

Did you get any blood on the bed when you laid down?

You scowl. "I thought you killed someone every night. Don't take it out on me."

He is visibly unimpressed by your reaction to his confession. You cross your arms, body shuttering, when you realize he had rested his hands on either side of your thighs with only the tips of his fingers touching you. As soon as your body reacted with goosebumps, he lifted his hands again to respond.

"Are you not even a little bit shocked? Are you concerned?"

"Obviously, I'm concerned; this seems to be affecting you." When you sign, your entire body jolts with each sharp movement. "But again, don't take it out on me."

Asa continues to gaze back at you, his expression still not budging an inch. He holds a blinkless stare before responding. Though his signs are not as harsh, his face shows slight annoyance. "You're not concerned about the person I killed. You're more concerned about how it affects me."

You soften a lot, submissively. Yes. You look out the window in deep thought, signing, not focusing on whatever your hands decide to convey. Asa is insanely intrigued by your demeanor. He's remained in the same position throughout your fidgeting, with his eyes following your every movement.

He continues, "This time is different. The way that woman acted was complete defiance," he pauses, "She annoyed me."

"A woman?" You cross your arms, going on the defense. Even though Asa just mentioned killing the girl, you are clearly unimpressed just by the fact that he was talking about her at all.

Though your sudden defensiveness didn't bother him, it was enough to at least raise his eyebrow slightly and pique his curiosity. Your jealousy is amusing and endearing. He knows you understand your role as a wife. You had no reason to be jealous, as he had wholly devoted himself to you, so your jealousy couldn't possibly stem from a genuine concern. Your attitude was enough to make him try and sit up a little more. "Yes. A woman."

You remain quiet, not knowing how to respond. You are grateful to have finally cracked Asa's stiffness. He's charming and always flusters you with his body language.

His hands hesitantly touch your sides, taking his time, one by one, each pad of his fingers making contact with the skin of your thigh. Your spine straightens. He caresses your legs and trails his hands across your skin. Your breath hitches, feeling how cold his hands are. "Was it relieving when you killed that woman?"

At first, Asa doesn't answer your question. Instead, he caresses you. He's relenting and giving you the mood you want from him. You relax more and more under his touch.

He removes one hand, "Relieving?"

He removes the other to form a comprehensible sentence. "Of course, I felt some form of relief. That's the whole point of what I do."

"'That's the whole point of what I do.'" You mock him before going earnest again. "You don't usually talk about it like that, Asa."

How long have you been fighting the urge to act with this much conviction and attitude? Perhaps this resulted from your jealousy; your emotions were most definitely amusing, though. You are a real handful, and you're starting to make it more evident than before.

"I'm just being honest," he replies.

One of his hands returns to your leg, his thumb running against your skin in an attempt to soothe you. "Why do you ask?"

A car driving by lights up the room. You can see his face and how soft his beautiful brown eyes have gotten. His eyes don't match his signing at all.

You smile. "I just like hearing about it. I'm happy you killed her, even if you don't want me to say so."

He lets out a small chuckle as you lean forward and press a small kiss to his temple. You have grown quite bold in your jealousy. He doesn't mind this sudden side of you; it certainly excited him. "You like it when I talk about my actions?"

"It's thrilling," you bluntly admit. "You torture people, but you're so loving to me. What an amazing feeling."

The look on his face puts butterflies in your stomach. With soft nudges, he sits up in bed, letting you move to sit across from him. The moonlight is ideally on his face; he squints his eyes.

You can't help but put your forehead before you kiss him.

Knowing his violent tendencies and brutal actions were enough to excite his wife was the best feeling in the world. You think about his vows and how he had sworn to protect you; he was so powerful, and it made your heart pound and gave your stomach butterflies when he declared that to you.

"Why does torture and death thrill you so much?" His eyes glow with amusement.

"Have we not had this conversation before?" you sign before placing your hands on the bed, kissing his cheek, and sitting on your knees beside him. "I adore you and everything you are."

"I see. My violent thoughts and murderous tendencies are appealing..." He leans up and kisses the side of your face. His hand trails towards your neck. A giggle leaves you, and you lean away slightly, signing the word desire, the movement of your hands slow and flirtatious. He touches the skin of your neck, tracing each ridge of your trachea. You lift your chin and let his fingers examine you.

When he touches your pulse, he smiles and pulls away.

You touch your fingers to your pulse to see if your heart is genuinely going that fast.

With more restraint, he places both hands on your head and pulls you into a kiss. He goes backward, his back landing against the bed while your chest lays flat on his. Your hands instantly go on either side of him to prop yourself up; with his strong grip on your hair, you cannot pull away. His hip bones poke the inside of your thighs; no matter how much you shift, you can't escape the feeling.

One of your hands instinctively flies to his neck, where you press the back of your hand to his throat, feeling the deep grumble of his grunts. He snatches the hand and places it back on the bed. One of his hands goes under your shirt, dragging his fingertips across your skin, just missing the sensitive parts of you. Your skin lights up his heart and tightens his chest. It has always been clear that his love and lust for you would always be unconditional; he can't help but wonder how long he would be able to maintain his composure, knowing you longed for violence the same way he did.

His hands went past your ribcage and towards your hips; a line of goosebumps crossed your skin, and your back arched a bit from the feeling, almost ticklish.

His lips form a smile before trailing down the sides of your neck. He kisses, traveling across your skin to your collarbones, and stops there for only a few seconds. His breath is hot on your skin, and you can almost feel his lustful desires in the way his hands roam your body. Your mouth releases a small squeal, and you hold onto the back of his head, tilting your head away from him to give him more access. You were giving him more access to your neck so easily. 

Though he did give in eventually, he lightly kissed and nicked your neck, making you shiver slightly. When he finally gripped onto your hips, you wrapped your legs around his waist, giving no sign of resistance to him. The way your body feels against his is irresistible, and it takes every ounce of his will strength not to suddenly start gripping your thighs and hold you firmly down.

You didn't even know what you were begging for, but your legs tightened around him.

His breath is hot against your skin, and he groans, sending vibrations against you. With one hand propping himself up, he uses his other one to grab your fingers and place small kisses onto them. He could feel his body responding to the mere sound of your tiny squeals. His hands slip under your body and caress your thighs. The word soon is noticeable against you. Kisses and licks trail down your neck, your hands resting on his shoulders, sliding up to the back of his neck lovingly, a sensual touch, a shiver running down his skin. The way you touch him adds to your cute charm; he kisses you, hands wrap around your body, and touches are rougher and more possessive than before.

You grab his hand and put it between your legs; you bite onto his bottom lip, both confident and uneasy. He grunts, lips stinging from your teeth. You are making this a very tempting experience.

You grasp at his shirt and try to pill it up, signaling to him that you want him to take it off. His hand is teasingly stiff between your legs. He has it right where you put it, but he offers no further indulging.

Your voice cracks pathetically, "Baby."

He enjoys every second of this. He starts being gentle, resting his hand on your underwear and palming you in slight movements.

Beyond his composure, his breathing is heavy.

You pant desperately at the contact from his fingers; the sound is loud and primal, and your back arches.

Your hands move sporadically. "Tell me about how you kill them."

He doesn't remove the hand from your underwear when he responds. "I'm not telling you that, sweet girl."

"Please."

A million words are running through your mind. You must fight every itch to close your eyes; you don't want to miss anything Asa might say. His mind is focused on how plush your pussy lips feel underneath your underwear. He starts rubbing his knuckles against you, the sharp joints sending particular sparks.

"Eventually." One of his knuckles bluntly runs over your clit, and you jump from the contact.

"Please." When you sign, your mouth moans, practically shaking his body. Your toes curl as you try your best to maintain your composure, but your thighs start to spread wider. The way your hands start working at his belt makes him smile broadly. He watches you move with pure amusement.

You open his belt and take it out with a single pull, fingers shaky while you quickly attempt to undo his pants.

Asa is taken aback by your sudden movements, his smile only growing sadistically. He's impressed and so in love with you. He helps you unzip his pants, taking it all out in one motion. The way your hands shake is a sight that gets him even more riled up. You move and scoot up on the bed, angling yourself so your upper back can comfortably lean on the headboard.

Just you being this entranced by him makes him want you even more. His touch is getting more aggressive, passionate, and possessive, just as you craved it. The sound of you panting drives him crazy, the shuffling of you taking off your underwear for him.

"Come on, Asa," you desperately motion him close. "Show me that you love me."

He larks onto you. Your toes work at the band of his pants. The way you stare at him while he pushes his fingers into you is an incredible sight. He can't hold back when, in powerful eye contact, you stare at him while the most salacious sound leaves your hips. His body shakes with excitement, and his face looks lusty. Your mouth goes agape, and in embarrassment, you cover your mouth with your hand. He's being considerate by even continuing to finger you and not take you right this very second.

You reach down in a desperate attempt to pull his pants down. Your fingers are weak, and you always get so consumed by pleasure that you can't even think straight. Your husband has learned the best ways to touch you. It drives you crazy.

He removes his hand and signs, lowering his head to inch closer to you. "Is this how you plan on showing your submission and obedience to me? By squirming, growling, and whining like a dog?"

You stare at him with such lust and pleading in your eyes. Time slows as he takes in your expression, your submissiveness.

He jumps to the present when your legs wrap around his waist. You pull him down so fast that he has to press his hand on the headboard to hold himself up.

"Tell me," you come across as commanding now. "Tell me how you kill them."

You caught him entirely off guard. The suddenness of it all makes it even more alluring to him. How you look deep into his eyes pushes him to desire to fulfill your every wish.

"...I'm not telling you." He signs back, his face stern.

"Why?" You growl and tighten your legs around him. Your bodies rub against each other in a stimulating friction. You put an attempt to stop your trembling like you're not on the verge of begging him to fuck you.

"Because I'm in charge here, not you."

"No. Tell me."

Your hand goes down his body and grabs onto his dick, stimulating him and trying to coax him. Your body heats up at your own actions.

You're adamant about having your way. "Tell me," you repeat with one hand. "Tell me, I want to know."

If you continue this way, it'll make him want to pin you down and take you in the most aggressive way imaginable. He stares deep at your eyes and stares deep at your lips.

You smile, not giving up, your hand gripping him tighter, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Tell me about how you kill them," you hope that continuing to ask will make him relent out of annoyance. You decided that if he told you that, you'd guide him inside of you as a reward.

"I will not tell you a thing." He can't stand your insistence anymore.

"Why?" You stop stimulating him, and you remove your legs from his waist, falling onto the bed. He notices that your knees are still spread by his side, giving him room to take whatever he wants. It's both aggravating and frustrating. The fact that you're trying to play this dominance game doesn't sit well with him. He's been too lenient on you.

"...Because there's no need for you to know the details about how I do my killings. All you need to know is the results. Now, shut up and stop pestering me."

"But," you bite your lips with a groan. Your cheeks get warm, and you decide between apologizing and pleading. "It'll turn me on."

Your signs force him to lock eyes. Your expression of shame and embarrassment is very compelling. He smiles and eggs you on. Maybe he will give you what you want. "How?"

"You're handsome. Your hands are big and aggressive; I want to know what they can do." You sign with both hands in a restrained way. "I want you to fuck me as you tell me."

The words make him grin with desire and arrogance. 

"Beg me to continue. Beg me to tell you about the killings while you spread yourself open for me." 

"Please, sweetheart." You writhe at the sight of his demanding eyes. "Please tell me, please touch me, and tell me how violent you are and how much you terrorize people."

Your eyes are soft and pleading as you continue, "And pleasure me as you do so, I need you, and I want you to control me."

Your begging is something that never fails to drive him completely crazy.

His next sign is simple, his hands become very busy lifting your pelvis. "Fine."

The muscles of your thigh tense as you prepare yourself for him to finally fill you. You love how stern he's acting. You continue begging in hopes that he won't change his mind. "Make me cum, tell me how dangerous you are. I want to see the blood on your hands and hear about what you do to people."

He keeps his eyes on your hands. He verbally repeats your last sentence to himself under his breath. Astonishing, you are. He lets you press yourself closer to him to align him with you. Your hand flails the same sign; tell me.

It's amusing. Asa pauses, no longer continuing, just staring at you. How your two eyes meet feels like a mix of passion and danger. He smiles and hums to himself, moving his hands down to grip your ass. You try to reach down to press him into you, but he moves your hands away, shaking his head teasingly. He's hard and just over your dripping hole; his tip is making contact with your folds and how warm they feel. The wet sound that your labia has, his breath hitching, his hands squeezing onto you, makes him want to take you even more aggressively. He tilts his head, leaning back a bit. He smiles and lifts his hands back up. "...What kind of details do you want to know?"

"I want to know how it feels to torture someone. What do you do?" Your hands move a bit slower, hesitant. "What do you think about?"

He pushes only a bit of himself inside of you. Your upper body relaxes, the light in the room exposing everything about you.

It's poetic.

You bend your pelvis to push him inside a little further. His eyes darken. It's charming, and it reminds you how much you love him. You're surprised he hasn't killed you already.

He puts pressure on your body to keep you still, to keep you from squirming away from him. He forces himself to go completely inside of you. You gasp, grasping his shoulders. He can see and hear your arousal and your voice. The way your body is now tightening around him in a way that doesn't allow him to move in or out is something that makes him enjoy the position he'll have you in. The way your muscles clench onto him brings him to the point of almost losing control.

You once again rewind the conversation. At the mere memory of how this started, you start getting annoyed again about how stubborn Asa is. Your walls pulsate around him in desire, but you don't give in to it just yet, even though your heart is pounding and your head is spinning. You lean back. "Tell me about how you kill them."

"Very violent and gruesome, just how you like it. Do you want me to continue?"

"Continue." Your thighs lessen their grip while you grind your hips against him pathetically, trying to urge him to move once you realize he's not. You growl, desperate, childish.

He stares down at where your bodies connect before making direct eye contact.

"Okay, and what about their screaming and pleading? It makes you so wet." He signs while distracted by how turned on you're getting per each of his lazy strokes. He penetrates you a bit faster and then proceeds to go back to moving slowly. It's as if he can feel your wetness dripping down your body now, soaking his hairs. Your mouth keeps releasing pathetic moans. You hadn't thought about an answer to that question before and didn't have the mind to make any sense of it.

"I need to hear about how dangerous you are as you treat me like I'm an angel," you admit as you place your hands on his shoulders and dig your nails into him.

He begins to pick up the pace more and more, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep you in place while he signs quickly to you. "I'm the most dangerous man you know. I'm the devil. I'm a savage and a monster. I've tortured women to death, ripped their families to shreds, and killed children, all just for my enjoyment. I've destroyed homes, lives, and relationships. I've left a trail of destruction through this city, which I've left bloody and scared. Is that enough?"

"Yes," your hands drop, and your signs are hardly comprehensible. Your body reacts to Asa as if he's been fucking you for hours. "Yes, baby, oh my god." His sentences linger in your head, and you bask in them, repeating them in your mind.

You put one of your fingers between your lips and bite onto the knuckles. The look in your eyes is of satisfaction and intense pleasure. He's finally given you what you want, and you're almost about to cum because of it.

The sight of your lustful eyes and the sound of your moans sends ripples of power through him. He is the one who ultimately controls you, the one you worship.

You squeal when he puts a hand under your knee, stretching your leg closer to you. You can hardly look at him with how dazed his cock makes you, but you're begging for him to tell you he's a killer once again.

You can feel how wet the both of you are, and you bite your lip at the disgusting feeling.

And towards the end of the night, the part of sex where he grips your face with his nails digging into your cheekbones, he keeps fucking his cum into you, not stopping until you've finished as well. Your dry lips let out moans and indecipherable sounds. Your thighs are around him, and your walls are pulsating; your eyes remain shut, and his body trembles at the sound.

✦

He loves it when you sleep by his side, your hand on his chest as you nuzzle into his shoulder. He'll keep his arm around you even after you wake up. There's something beautiful about how you find such comfort in his warmth, as sometimes he considered it a fault. The warmth of his body was a constant reminder that he was human, the same species as all in his collection.

He watches the hands on the clock as they tick. At first, he intended to hope up regardless of whether you were comfortable, as his museum needed tending. But today, he gives you mercy, letting you sleep for a few more minutes. I'll give them five minutes, which became ten and then twenty. The grumpiness overtook him (as if it wasn't his own decision that caused this). He just couldn't find it in himself to wake you up.

#asa emory x reader #asa emory #x reader #x deaf reader #x deaf s/o #slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[antimonyandthyme]

martian; retirement (as told by oscar)

They do a massive barbecue at the end of Seb’s visit. Mark’s steaks have been soaking in some special homemade marinade for precisely six hours. He’s got enough potatoes to feed a farm.

He forgets the salad.

“You forgot the salad,” Seb says. He sounds absolutely delighted. He’s sounded this way ever since Mark picked him up at the airport. But even more so at the moment. “All that talk about this being the best meal I’ll get this side of town, and you forgot the salad.”

“He’ll never let me live this down,” Mark says.

“I won’t,” Seb confirms.

Oscar owes it to Mark to help, just a little bit. “Isn’t there a Woolworths just around the corner?”

Mark’s face does something very funny. It takes a moment for Oscar to realize Mark’s sulking, like he’s genuinely upset he has to get salad from a store. Like it’s not going to be good for Seb or something. As if Mark could put a burnt steak in front of Seb, and Seb wouldn’t eat as if his life depended on it. How do you go from crashing into each other to this?

Seb checks Mark in the hip, and pries the tongs out of Mark’s unwilling hand. Oscar watches as their fingers tangle, not so briefly, before they separate. “I won’t let the meat burn, I promise.”

Mark sighs, and goes to grab the car keys.

“Do me a favour,” Seb says, “accompany him for me, will you? Don’t let him get lost at the salad bar.”

“Do my best,” Oscar says. Something in Seb’s tone makes Oscar look. Really look. At Mark standing in front of the chilled chafing dishes containing coleslaw and mixed greens.

At Mark staring right past, lost in thought.

Oscar reaches for a takeout container, and ladles a heap of Caesar salad in. Decides to get a little fancy and scatter some goat cheese atop. He clears his throat, and Mark nearly jumps.

“I’ve had this before,” Oscar tries. He’s gunning for it blind here. “Totally decent salad. I’m sure Seb wouldn’t mind.”

Mark lets out a small chuff of laughter. “You could give him a slice of toast and he’d thank you for it.”

“Okay,” Oscar says. He clicks the tongs in his hand for something to do. Ting ting. Then he reaches for another takeout container, and spoons the Thai salad in. The more the merrier, Seb would agree. “So why—?”

“I keep trying to convince myself this wouldn’t be the last I see of him for awhile.”

“It won’t,” Oscar protests. “He’s retired now. He has more time.”

“For his bees, and the sailing, and the exploring, and the whatever that comes after retirement. So what should I say? Stay here instead?”

There isn’t an answer for that. Oscar can’t pretend he’s ever wanted that of someone. Maybe someday. Maybe never. Seb and Mark don’t seem to be enjoying it. The wanting that of someone.

The containers are getting ridiculously full. Mark doesn’t reach for them yet. So, delicately, Oscar sprinkles a layer of sesame seeds on top.

“We’ve been apart so often,” Mark says, unprompted. “We’ve had our own schedules most of our lives, and this isn’t any different. I know I’m being silly.”

“You’re not,” Oscar says. It doesn’t feel strange, saying that to someone he looks up to in every which way possible. Someone in charge of his future. He wants that devastation wiped off Mark’s face. “I’ve seen how you look at each other.”

It’s how Mark’s gaze is turned upwards whenever Seb’s telling a story, like a plant searching out the light. It’s how Seb’s eyes dance across everyone in the room before landing on Mark. Floating away, then settling back. Floating away, then settling back again. It’s never grandiose declarations like, Stay here with me forever. It’s the drifting, through landscape after landscape, and the returning each and every time.

“Maybe,” Oscar says, “if you asked.”

“If I asked, he would.”

Which is why Mark will never. Oscar knows that much about love, at least. Something about letting go. He snaps the lids of the containers shut. Mark trails after him, and only shakes out of his stupor when Oscar tries to pay for the salads.

Seb greets them at the door with an anxiousness Oscar’s familiar with. Tongs in his hand, Ting ting.

“Did you get lost?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Oscar says. Next to him, Mark stiffens. “Do you know how many varieties of salad Woolworths has?”

Mark presents the containers to Seb with a flourish. Their fingers overlay. Oscar imagines pressing his own hands on top, like Stay, stay.

Stay if you know what’s good for you.

“Oh my god,” Mark says.

The barbeque smells as if it’s caught fire.

“You like your meat well done, right?” Seb looks hopeful. He also looks like he’s on the verge of panic. Like the brief moment away from Mark had done him in. Made him forget his name, and all that comes with it, reputation and inheritance and legacy.

That gaze of Seb’s again, darting away, lingering on Mark, darting away, lingering on Mark once more.

“One forgets the salad, and one forgets the meat,” Oscar says. He kinda wants to yell at them for being idiots. He’s almost embarrassed for them both. Mostly, he’s just hungry. “The two of you deserve each other.”

But Mark’s laughing now, and Seb’s joined him, shoulders shaking. Oscar grumbles and goes to rummage around the kitchen for something edible. No one has ever said ex-Formula 1 drivers were smart. They’ve spent too long driving around in circles to understand that the quickest way from point A to B is a straight line.

Hah. That’s a good one.

There’s linguine in Mark’s cupboard, and two tins of unopened tomato sauce. Nothing goes better with potatoes than even more carbs.

“Expired in 2021,” Seb reads.

“I don’t care,” Oscar says fervently. “Can I leave the boiling of water to you, or will you burn that too?”

“I like him,” Seb says to Mark brightly. Mark gives Seb a look, watery and resigned and so fucking fond. “You’ll continue giving him a hard time for me, won’t you?”

“Do my best,” Oscar says.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #martian #from a third person's pov #brought to you by that gifset #you know that one #that one where they look like kids at christmas waiting for each other #head in my hands #happy martian monday

[muffinsin]

i read the getting choked by Cassandra’s cock at work and I’m feeling all hot n bothered. You’re stories really have an effect on me and they’re entertaining.

my request if you can, can you do a wholesome story of where Cassandra has nothing to do and decides to go and bother her female s/o that’s in the atelier room painting but her s/o suggest that she lay on her lap, Cassandra lays on her lap and watching her s/o painting and how the brush moves soothes her to sleep.

I believe you wrote one like this before and that’s all I can remember what happened.

Very glad to know my work creates such reactions! ;) Could it have been a part of hc’s regarding the sisters hobbies or fluff ones? I believe I’ve done both once! But absolutely! I love me some fluffy Cassandra!

Masterlist

Cassandra was beyond bored.

The prisoners were weak from her antics and barely had enough life left in them to scream. (She refused to acknowledge Bela’s light scolding for being too hard on them), all the weapons were still being cleaned and even so, the cold winter air would not allow her to go hunt either way.

Additionally, her sisters were busy. While it would be rare for her to annoy the blonde, often Daniela made for some fun times whenever she was bored. But even she was too busy to play chase or destroy some vases, instead all curled up in the library with another lame book.

Cassandra felt bored, and restless.

That was, thankfully, when she thought of you.

Being the skilled huntress she is, it was easy to track your unique scent in the castle, all the way until she found herself in the atelier room.

She smiled- the air was comfortable here, less stuffy than the rest of the castle. As much as the brunette appreciated her mother’s concerns regarding the temperature in the castle, it was getting slightly ridiculous!

She grinned when she saw you, swarming over to you all to happily.

You smiled as you felt her come up behind you, her hand set on your shoulder. You appreciated that she did not scare you, and grinned, a little shyly even, as you saw what had her so quiet.

Cassandra stared at the painting, taking in your picture of the castle gardens, before golden eyes settled on your hand and the brush, guided by gentle, precise fingers.

You continued painting over the same spot, enthralled by her reaction. You watched as her eyes grew heavy, eyelids dropping slightly as she watched you. As you held your breath, you heard silent purring from her flies. You grinned- if you were to mention them, you were sure she would be all up again, insisting it was merely her flies making noises as their wings brushed together.

You set the brush down, turning to her fully. Her head pulled back slightly- she was still unused of receiving someone’s full and undivided attention and love.

She blushed a little when you cupped her cheek and smiled at your laughter when you realized it was the wrong hand. The brunette stayed unusually still as you wiped the paint off her cheek with your fingertip. She was content to bask in the comfortable warmth of the room and situation a little longer.

“I’m bored”, she said eventually, her voice softer than usual. She had possibly never felt this comfortable. “Play with me?”, she asked, smiling when you stroked your thumb across her cheek.

“I’ll finish this, sugar, but then we can see what we can do”

She frowned, but was shushed when you leaned up and pulled her down by her cheek, pressing your lips to hers. “Why don’t you stay?”

She frowned in confusion that time. No one had ever asked her to stay.

She nodded quietly, unsure what you meant. Was she supposed to keep standing-?

Her silent question was answered when you patted your thigh. She grinned again. Looking behind her for a moment to ensure nobody else was in the room with you, she smiled and sank to the floor, resting her head on your warm lap.

Upon feeling your hand in her hair, she purred quietly. Her eyes found your other hand, the one holding the brush, again.

“I want to watch”, she protested when you moved the canvas.

“Just changing my canvas, darling. I’ve found my new muse”, you cooed. She blinked for a moment, then smirked as realization hit her. She watched you clean the brush and heard you hum, her cheek rested against your lap. She felt so comfortable.

You watched her for a moment before picking up your brush again and setting it down on the canvas. She watched as if enthralled, the usually so hectic mind of the huntress now completely calm.

She felt her eyelids drop every few seconds. It felt so difficult to stay awake, especially with your fingers sliding along her head, nails scraping her scalp a little and making her purr louder.

You turned your head after a little while, frowning at the silent snores that were barely louder than your hums. The woman was fast asleep on your lap, her cheek smudged against your thighs, one arm slung across her stomach, the other hand on your thigh, claws hooked in slightly so it wouldn’t slip.

More time passed, although you were unsure how much. The brunette kept sleeping on your lap all too happily.

You glanced at your canvas, finding the sleeping woman drawn on it. You grinned, adding the tip of her tongue that poked out as she slept. It would become a routine to dedicate a little time twice a week for such moments.

#cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

[pomogando]

Sirens Call

An Illumina x Reader

Content warnings: hurt and comfort, depictions of blood and gore, implied torture

(1600+ words, oneshot, romantic intended but could be read as platonic)

You were never one to believe in the deities.

Not as in believe in their existence, there was no denying that, but as in their impact on normal men. Why should you concern yourself with a beings problems of who you will never meet?

That's why you left lost temple after all.

Crossroad was much more peaceful compared to that shithole. Your apartment had a good view of the ocean which was never really visible in Lost temple.

But the rent was terrible, you didn't know anyone, and if you're being completely honest you miss the food of your home faction,

but it was home.

You guess.

You decided to try something new one day, copying a recipe online that claimed to be '98% authentic.' You were much more skilled with sweets compared to more savory options. Hopefully, this would turn out better than the usual boxed dinners you bought, you spent more money than you're used to spending on ingredients.

You didn't have the patience (or the time for that matter) to make your own tortillas, store-bought was just fine.

You chopped up some peppers, fewer than he would've used. Your caretaker always preferred to make his own sauce that was way too hot for your tastes.

You couldn't help but notice every thing you did wrong, your cuts also weren't precise like his was. You struggled with squeezing the limes and dropped one of your avocados on the floor. You threw the bits into the blender and turned it on, swearing as you dropped a bit of parsley on the counter. Unfortunately it seemed your apartments shitty electricity seemed to have failed at this moment, buzzing and weeping before leaving you in the dark with a half mixed sauce and an overwhelming smell of lime.

Turns out the water was off, and the wifi, along with the damn a/c. You washed your hands with a water bottle and a dream, not wanting to rub chile into your eye like when you were younger. The same old towel you've always had dried your hands.

Crossroads was pitch black which blended into the starless night sky. That was strange. Crossroads was well known for never failing structurally; you could hear annoyed neighbors conversate amongst themselves.

You should've just ordered takeout.

The only source of light this dark night was a particularly ominous bright star. Staring at it gave you a headache; it might be time for bed.

Though, before you could even finish your next thought the blender came back to life screaming. It was about to fall to the ground as you caught it, a bit of sauce falling on the ground. The lights started to flicker next. Then the a/c froze you and then the tv was blaring that one soap opera you hated with a passion.

You left the now unplugged blender on the counter haphazardly as you ran for the tvs power, but as if things couldn't get any worse you felt the ground beneath you rumble. You fell to your knees as everything suddenly turned back off, diving you back into the night. A loud thump behind you and a groan. You turned around and saw something that might've been a blessing; or maybe not.

A deity of light, the intensity of the light was harsh but strangely warm. It's like a piece of the sun fell onto your balcony. The sun was curled up into a fetal position. The sun looked pitiful as its wounds dripped ichor onto your floor. The sun was breathing heavily as if someone tried to snuff it out.

You watched in awe, when suddenly the deity of light unhinged its jaw to release a primal, strained scream at a decibel you've never heard before. You should've gone deaf. The scream was a warning, an overwhelming dread filling you from head to toe. Your head was spinning as you felt tears form without you realizing.

Yet, for some reason you only stepped closer.

Their lone wing was clipped down to nothing. Their body covered in lacerations. Someone made a futile struggle of killing a god, but a part of you thought maybe that wasn't the goal despite how deep the gashes seemed to go.

Despite the odds against them, they were healing, slowly, but they were healing. The skin mending on its own like a seamstress would mend a sweater. All were mending except for a nasty bite near the shoulder that seemed to drip with a green liquid. You had a feeling it was slowing things down.

They didn't even seem to notice you.

You don't know why, maybe because you thought you couldn't contact anyone else about this even if you wanted to, you ran to your bathroom and pulled out whatever looked useful for dealing with wounds. You definitely didn't know what you were doing but there's no way you could've made things worse.

In spite of your preparation, you hesitated as you stepped close to the cowering figure; their breathing was ragged and seemed torturous, the star writhing with each breath. Their hands curled up into fists as a searing pain wad across their entire body.

You hesitated, but eventually got closer to the cowering figure and spoke in a shaky voice

"Can I... touch you?"

The angel did not respond, still curled up into a ball. It was as if it didn't hear you.

"I'm… just going to clean your bite mark. I hope that's okay. You can tell me no."

Silence filled the air.

You hastily wet your towel, stepping closer and careful not to cause more pain. You hesitantly begun to lightly dab the bite wound clean of the venomous green liquid. Only to be practically forced to the ground as the being of light let out another animalistic scream, shielding their body with whats left of their wings. The voice was strained but stern, spoken as a command that one couldn't refuse.

"Don't touch me."

Yet, hypocritically, it seemed to wrap its arms around you. Your body being pulled in close as it breathed heavily in your arms. You felt the ichor liquid spilling on your clothes but you felt as if you had better things to worry about.

Perhaps they didn't realizing they were clinging onto you like a scared dying animal. Blood loss could alter a mind, and maybe Gods had the same fear- maybe an even greater fear- of dying like mortals. Your thoughts were clouded as you tried to focus on what's in front of you as you gently wrapped your arms around their quivering body as ichor stained your skin. You would give them the comfort they would never admit to craving.

And the sun would let you.

You didn't know how to comfort people, but if the sun was bothered by it they wouldn't speak. Your soft, coddling reassurances of safety and warmth filled the ears of a deity twice your size. "You're going to be okay."

You could feel their blood drenched claws on your back as they kept their arms wrapped around your waist but they seemed to be careful not to harm you. The wounds on their back were being closed shut one by one, it was almost as if it was never there in the first place.

The bite wound seemed to finally be on the process to repairing itself aswell.

You opened your mouth hesitantly "do you have any more bite marks?" They only grumbled something inaudible in response, so you quietly scanned their body as best as you could.

"I just want to help you."

The deity seemed to flinch at those words, quietly pushing itself up from the ground to face you, they slowly opened their eyes as if they had been blind their whole life.

Their eyes were like a piercing blade. Eyes that would've made the bravest crumble into submission. Eyes that have probably seen many die in agony. Eyes that probably didn't care.

And yet, why did you feel your body relax as if you rejoiced with a long lost lover?

"Your eyes.." your voice was a soft whisper, music to their ears."They're like stars."

You would help them see again.

You put a hand on their cheek. Almost in a trance. Their eyes widened, you couldn't tell if it was fear or relief.

As quickly as that moment arrived, it quickly left. The star jolted up from your lap, unable to keep it's eyes off you as it made a run for the window to vanish into the night sky. Strangely, you could've sworn you saw their pale cheeks tint with color.

It felt as if you had just woken up from a dream. The only sign they had ever been here was the bloodied handprints on your back.

You didn't even notice when the lights came back to life as you sat there in shock and guilt.

The next, unpleasant morning. You tried your best to scrub your floor clean of blood. It seemed ichor was hard to get out even with a strong bleach. It would look jarring, but you decided to just place a rug over the spot. You didn't want to tell anyone what happened last night, not like they would believe you.

When you got your stained shirt out of the wash, you noticed something fall out onto the floor. A pale white feather. Somehow completely clean, it was practically glowing. Despite its delicate look it was tough and didn't tear. You ran a finger along the edge and it felt like gentle blades.

You had a feeling that it wasn't here by chance.

#legal woes || writings #phighting #legal woes || phighting #phighting! #phighting x reader #illumina x reader #illumina

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 10: Cuckolding

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6070

Warnings: Afab!reader, bisexual, cuckolding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, very mild bondage, threesome, sharing is caring, big cock, light humiliation, cum swapping, sex toy (onahole), use of she/her pronouns and the term 'girl'

A/N: This was actually supposed to be NTR, per the Kinktober prompt, but when I started writing this it turned out to be more of a cuckold situation ... aaaand then it just became a bisexual threesome by the end, look. It might be a bit offtopic but we're gonna' roll with it okay? dfjnksergh

⭐

Saying Gorou doesn’t have a poker face would be putting it mildly. He’s as easy to read as an open book and it’s technically not even any fault of his own. It’s that damn tail of his. No matter what he does to try and hide it, it always gives him away. Gets him into trouble he might otherwise have been able to avoid had he been able to control it a little better, or if he didn’t have it at all. 

Even now when he’s actively trying to avoid looking at you and you think, maybe he’s starting to have second thoughts about this, the furry appendage just keeps insistently wagging back and forth at such a high speed it almost seems to turn into a soft brown blur of motion. He’s excited about this despite the slightest reservations still lingering in the back of your mind which was good, at least. Reassuring. 

Because one look at Itto standing off to the side assures you you’re not the only one feeling uncertain and just a bit hesitant at the moment. 

He makes a valiant effort to hide it behind his usual self assured mask (and an even greater effort to hide the half filled out cock behind his massive hand) but he’s failing at it just about as miserably as you probably were, and hardly any wonder there. This was completely unchartered territory, after all. You couldn’t even be sure which of you had first posed the suggestion over drinks and taiyaki late one nondescript evening but here you were, standing naked together for the first time, and Gorou looked like he was going to start levitating right up off the bed he was bent over if his tail picked up any more speed. 

If it hadn’t been exactly what he’d asked for, if he hadn’t admitted his deepest, darkest fantasies to you in hushed whispers with sweet sake on his breath, you would have called the whole thing off. If it had been just about anyone other than the big oni oaf trying his damndest to look cool and sauve while cupping his junk in the corner, you would have beat a hasty retreat right then and there. But Gorou had been clear about what he wanted, and Itto had assured you both he was down to play on his terms. 

Now the most pressing issue at hand seemed to be how to kick things off without making a complete and total fool out of yourself.  

Drawing a steadying breath, you reach down to thread your fingers through the back of Gorou’s short hair, deciding there was comfort in his familiarity. He gives a low groan and arches into the touch, encouraging you to close your first around the roots and tug. Rumbling a low sound of appreciation, the general acquiesces without qualm and slides off the side of the bed to settle more firmly on his knees. With him kneeling on the floor now, you use his hair to pull his face around and make him look up at you. 

And it’s instantly clear why he’d been avoiding this. He already looked a wreck even though you’d barely even touched him yet, having only gone so far as securing his hands at the small of his back with a length of silk rope, just as he’d requested. Had said it would stop him from giving into the urge to touch you or his cock when he shouldn’t have been doing either and work as an effective reminder of his role here. You understood why this appealed to him perhaps more so than anyone else precisely because it appealed to you too, and it was so very easy to imagine the roles reversed. 

If it had been you made helpless to do anything but watch while someone else took Gorou for themselves, you would have been just as much a wreck too. 

“Precious boy,” You coo at him, sliding your hand forward to cup his cheek tenderly. He nuzzles into the gesture, complete with a soft whimper in the back of his throat, and it makes you smile. “Are you ready to get started? I don’t know how much more waiting I can take.” 

Squeezing your thighs and rubbing them together, squirming in place for his benefit, has the intended effect of making Gorou’s straining cock eagerly jump in his lap. There’s nothing he can do about it with his arms secured behind him though, which just leaves him helplessly drooling sticky precum all over himself. The bead of glistening moisture that runs down the underside of his length catches your eye in the low lamp light and you watch its steady descent with nothing short of fast mounting excitement. This may have been his fantasy wish fulfillment but you would have been hard pressed to deny that you weren’t equally invested. 

“Yes.” He softly breathes, practically hissing the word. 

Stamping down an eager shudder, you straighten up and gesture to Itto. He hesitates only for a moment before moving across the room. His hand falls away in the process and you voraciously drink in the sight of his heavy cock bouncing between his legs with every step, equally big in length and girth. If ever you’d harbored any doubts about his oni heritage, this would have certainly dispelled them. 

Pulse quickening, your heated gaze quickly darts from one cock to the other. Truth be told, you were more partial to Gorou’s but you could understand the appeal in the size difference and why Itto was the one joining you rather than someone else. It wasn’t just that the two of them were good friends, at any rate. 

“I know we already talked about this but, uh,” The much, much taller male says as he steps up into your space, close enough for his thigh to brush your hip. Tentatively, he brings the nearest hand up to touch the back of your neck before evidently thinking better of it and sliding it further down to rest across your waist. 

The rapport you shared with him was not quite as close as Gorou’s and it showed in his uncertainty. More to the point, however, you suspected Itto was not quite as confident when it came to women as he’d like to appear, and you send him an amused, sidelong glance but his ruby eyes were all for Gorou in that moment. 

“I don’t know if I can actually be mean to you, little dude. I mean, I get the vibe and everything but you’re just way too chill. It wouldn’t feel right if I started saying nasty stuff to you out of nowhere. You haven’t exactly done anything to deserve it, you know what I mean?” 

“That’s fine.” Gorou murmurs back, soft and distant. 

You, on the other hand, pin Itto with a playfully wry look. He might need a little nudging but you were confident he had it in him, with the right incentive of course. “You’re not trying to stall, are you? And here I thought we were inviting a big, bad oni into our bed … guess that was our mistake.” 

Scoffing, Itto shoots a look of his own your way, clearly prepared to rise to that challenge just as he always was no matter what was being called into question. “You don’t gotta’ worry about that, honeybun. Arataki “Sex God” Itto is here to make sure both of you have a night you won’t soon forget and you can count on that!” 

Your laughing abruptly cuts off when he applies just enough pressure at the base of your spine to pull you in against him and your pulse immediately starts to jackhammer. It was hard not to be a little intimidated when you felt so small and powerless standing flush with him like this. But your own excitement is undeniable as you tip your head back to look at him in open invitation. Itto hesitates only a quick moment, swallows his nerves and then slowly bends at the waist — something he was probably going to be doing a lot of tonight when you and Gorou were both so much slighter than he was — and you moan, very softly, when he presses his mouth to yours. 

The sound reverberates, echoed by the man kneeling at your feet to further encourage you. It prompts you to bring your hands up and carefully wrap them around Itto’s impossibly wide shoulders. His kiss is a bit sloppy and not half as careful as Gorou’s are, but you can see the appeal in this too. It sets your blood to boiling, and you clutch at him all the more fervently when you feel yourself start to ease into the sensation of someone new. Someone different. It wasn’t bad, just unfamiliar. 

With a slight shift of his weight, you feel Itto reach further down and you crack your eyes open enough to watch him palm the top of Gorou’s head. With that staggeringly large hand, he guides the smaller man closer to the action and your guts curl into a tight, thrumming knot at the ready submission he shows the oni. That hazy look in his teal-blue eyes only seems to grow more pronounced as he rocks forward on his knees until only a negligible amount of space separates his face from your pelvis where he takes a deep, savory breath. No doubt tasting the potent cocktail of arousal and hormones that scent the air on the back of his tongue. A shudder races up your spine at the implication, Itto mirroring the reaction just a second later when it seems to bleed from you into him like a chain reaction domino effect. 

He reluctantly straightens up from you at that point, slowly taking in first your expression and then Gorou’s. You could tell he was a bit overwhelmed with this, a little outside his usual element (sex god, indeed) but he puts on a brave face all the same. Sliding the hand on your back lower, Itto gives your ass a playful, taunting squeeze as if to test the waters but when you eagerly arch against his touch he seems to find some of his usual confidence. Grabbing your backside in earnest this time, he gives the meat of it a greedy, possessive jostle before delivering a quick swat to make you jolt. You can’t quite stop yourself from giggling, low and sultry — for his benefit as much as Gorou’s — and he gives you a big, eager grin in return before nudging you towards the waiting bed.

Impressed that he was finding his footing so fast, you readily comply and turn to crawl up onto the edge of the mattress under his guidance. He takes a moment to stroke that big hand over your ass again, encouraging you to spread your legs a bit more in a hushed, tentatively coaxing tone that sends fresh tremors racing down your spine. You weren’t sure what to expect from him when this was all so brand new and foreign, having Itto of all people looking at and handling your naked body like this, but it still surprises you slightly when he shuffles back a step once he’s satisfied with your positioning. 

“Alright. Come get her ready for me, doggy.” 

Your heart skips a beat, genuine surprise washing over you at that. It takes everything you have not to turn and look while you’re acutely aware of them moving around behind you, getting resituated, but you force your body to remain still. So he really had paid attention during the talk you'd had leading into this …

Even though you expect it, you still start when Gorou leans into you and shoves his face between your legs. Hands fisting the sheets, you push back into him, groaning, while Itto moves another shuffling step so he can watch the action from a better vantage point. Gorou’s mouth gets right to work on your cunt, eagerly licking from the top of your slit down and then back up again, almost successfully distracting you from what the oni is doing. Almost, but not quite. 

Shoulders tense with anticipation, you crane your neck to look back at him only for a full bodied tremor to tear through you when you find Itto distractedly tugging at his cock. His heavy lidded eyes remain locked on what Gorou is doing, only glancing up from the softly moaning brunette when you release a faltering sound of your own into the statically charged air. He regards you for a long moment, brows pinched in what could only be arousal, before dragging his attention back down and you do the same to watch his thick fingers work over his even thicker length. Gods, he was huge. You weren’t even sure if he was going to fit. 

Gorou seems likewise aware of the logistical challenges in this arrangement, because he’s much messier about eating you out than usual. His wet tongue swirls and laps, gliding through slick folds and creases with a sort of sloppy abandon you didn’t normally see in him, leaving behind an excessive amount of sticky spit in his wake. Focusing his efforts on your palpitating hole and even taking the time to tongue fuck you, it doesn’t take long at all for him to have you feeling like a goopy mess between the legs. Saliva and pussy slick mix together to create a truly viscous consistency that leaves you aching for some real friction even as you grind back on his mouth and nose, smearing his face with it much to his groaning delight. 

Both you and Gorou are outright panting by the time Itto comes close again, his hot, heavy breaths on your clenching pussy just making you shudder all the more. You’re distantly aware of him reaching out to palm the top of Gorou’s head once more and the blatantly possessive, dominating gesture draws another low groan from the general, fanning yet more sticky air across your cunt in the process. You issue a soft noise of your own when Itto pulls him away from you, leaving you to pitifully circle your hips against nothing but resounding emptiness in his absence. Pushing up, you quickly twist around and watch Gorou shift on his knees to fully face the big oni, pink tongue already lolling out of his mouth. 

“My turn now.” The taller man murmurs and you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice, like he still wasn’t totally sure if what he was doing was the right way to go about things. 

But Gorou doesn’t need to be told twice, and your breath hitches when he lurches up to lathe that thick cock in attention that was just as messy as what you had received. The sucker punched noise Itto huffs out rushes straight to your cunt and you shift around a little more to get a better look. Watching your normally polite and well mannered boyfriend slobber all over another man’s big, hefty cock like some common whore unexpectedly turns out to be one of the hottest things you’d ever seen, and you just stare at them in mute fascination. 

“H - hey, there ya’ go,” Itto reaches back to grip Gorou’s neck, the way he slurs and stumbles over his words further belying the effect this was having on him. “Get me nice and wet for your girl, puppy. You know she isn’t used to someone of my size … isn’t that right?” 

You send him a slow look, wondering at his earlier assertion that he couldn’t be mean even if he’d wanted to, but it doesn’t really matter either way. Gorou seems to eat it up, his tail rapidly thumping against the floor as he inches himself somehow even closer to Itto until he’s practically pressed up against his legs, moaning hotly around the cock now wedged in his mouth. His ears press back, folding almost flat against the top of his skull, but his eyes remain locked on the taller male's face, practically begging him for more. 

Letting out another low hiss of surprise, Itto squeezes the back of his neck tighter. “Holy shit.” 

You couldn’t have agreed more. 

It seems to take a great deal of effort for Itto to finally drag Gorou off his cock a few minutes later, his shoulders sagging slightly at the loss of that hot, wet mouth around him. He stands frozen for a moment, just admiring the glistening thread of spittle that stretches between them before apparently gathering his resolve. Gently pushing Gorou back to give himself some space, Itto at last turns to you and brings one knee up to brace on the edge of the bed. You get the picture quickly enough, turning to get on your hands and knees again, and your pussy clenches eagerly when he grabs your hips so he can pull you back against him. You’re sure your heart is going to pound right out of your chest while he takes the time to position you how he wants, no doubt making sure the angle was just right for Gorou to get a front row seat to watch you get split in half. 

“Ready?” 

“Archons, yes.” You groan, and dramatically arch your back to make sure Gorou got a good long look at your cunt being presented to another man. It’s almost a little embarrassing, hamming it up like this, but if the general was willing to give in to the urge to act like an unrepentant slut then so were you. “I need you inside me Itto, I’m already so wet for you. Please fill me up … I need your cock.”

“Shit.” 

Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you try to brace for what was coming next as he possessively takes hold of your hips to hold you in place and stop your squirming. You still had some lingering doubts that you could even take something of his size, even with the prep, but you force yourself to relax into it when Itto eagerly presses into you from behind, his own excitement showing in the way he impatiently lines himself up. 

The glans is hot and sticky with lingering spit as it nudges against your cunt and parts the lips under that stilted, slow pressure he exerts, gradually sinking into you bit by excruciating bit. You feel dizzy with it almost instantly, how heavy and oppressive he feels behind you. Your body offers up resistance as soon as he starts to truly breach your entrance though, the stretch to your guts far too great and unfamiliar, and you go ramrod stiff, sucking in a sharp gasp of air. 

“Oh!” 

“Oh ho, ya’ hear that, little buddy? I think she likes it,” Itto softly laughs but the strained, shaky quality of his voice is not lost on you even at this pivotal moment when all the tension in the room feels like it’s reaching true critical mass. He pauses, seems to hesitate, allowing you just a brief moment to adjust and relax the muscles as much as you’re able to, before giving his hips another little push. The way you moan in stricken pleasure seems to bounce off the walls on an endlessly looping echo, ringing in your own ears. 

“Archons above …” 

You don’t get a chance to acknowledge Gorou’s awestruck murmur, much too preoccupied with the massive cock carefully working itself into your body. At least Itto knew he was big, you think to yourself, and thank the gods for that. You’re not sure what you would have done if he’d tried to force it in all at once, either not realizing or not caring that he was much bigger than the average man. The strain of it is all pleasure laced with tinges of discomfort just shy of pain and that intense pressure on your guts makes you go cross eyed by the time he finally slides home, settling against the backs of your thighs at long last with a low, drawn out groan of his own. 

It forces the air out of your lungs in one big, shuddering woosh and you shake so hard the bed softly creaks under your weight. You’d never felt so damn stuffed in all your life. 

“That’s a tight fit.” Itto rumbles out another laugh, or tries to, but it just sounds thin and tremulous in the stuffy room. 

A soft whimper on the floor pulls your head up, and you turn just enough to glance over your shoulder in time to watch the big oni place his hand on Gorou’s head so he can pull him closer. Your pussy throbs around the thick intrusion that’s got you speared down the middle when you feel the brunette’s breath hit your skin again, hovering so near the spot where your bodies are joined that a sudden surge of white hot arousal washes over you, making you writhe in place. 

But Itto seems to be on a mission, evidently committed to his role of playing with you and your boyfriend despite his earlier uncertainty on the matter. He holds Gorou in place while he carefully starts to draw himself back only enough to give a small, staggered thrust into the pulpy heat of your cunt. For as slight as it is, the weighty push against your innards still makes you lurch, head hanging low now as Itto gradually works his way up to a quicker pace. The soft, wet click of your body taking him in sounds loud in the still air, but Gorou’s quiet sighs and groans are somehow even louder. They dominate the space between your ears and prompt you to loose a sultry, not entirely feigned moan, your entire body thrumming with fast mounting tension. 

“Ohh, Itto … you’re so - ahh! So big! You’re stretching me so much …!” 

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” It takes you a beat to realize that question hadn’t been directed at you but, rather, Gorou. The thought of Itto (making an attempt to) smugly look over at him while he fucks you, your partner helpless to do anything but watch … your back sharply bows, a flustered sound of pleasure punching out of your mouth. 

His thrusts falter then, and Itto seems to glance between the two of you as if suddenly realizing that this was really happening. That he had two cute, perfectly willing participants completely at his mercy, his to do with however he pleased, and that evidently fills him with a newfound sense of confidence. He quickly resumes his pace, rutting his hips into you even more enthusiastically than before. Your pleasured groans and sighs quickly pick up until all you can do is wordlessly bleat every time he sinks into you straight down to the hilt, repeatedly spearing you on his length to the rhythmic plap, plap, plap of his pelvis meeting your upturned ass. 

You were quickly losing yourself in it, so caught up in the constant onslaught to all your senses that you almost don’t catch it when he speaks again. 

“You like watching me have your girl, general? I mean this in the best possible way, man, but I had no idea you were so freaky.” Itto doesn’t even appear to be putting in that much effort now that he’s comfortably settled into this pace, his attention equally divided between you and Gorou. Both of you cry out in faltering, near perfect unison, and Itto squeezes your hip where he’s pulling you back to meet his steady thrusts but the brunt of his attention seems to remain focused on the other man. “You should have said something sooner. I would have gladly taken you guys to bed with me. Seriously though, who would’ve guessed she’d be such a size queen? You should feel the way she’s squeezing me right now …”

He lets out a low, faltering groan for emphasis and you just barely catch the sound of Gorou whining needily in the back of his throat over the sound of your own haggard gasps. You have to fight back tears that spring up in your eyes in response to the thorough pounding you were getting, practically seething as you claw at the bed sheets and rock back to meet him. His cock was just too much all at once when it was shoving deep inside of you, rearranging your organs in the process, but you couldn’t stop. It already felt like you were tipping dangerously close to the edge and he was going to shove you over whether you wanted him to or not. 

“You’re really missing out right now, dude. I almost feel bad for you … wanna’ see for yourself what I’m doing to her?”

“Please.” 

To your sudden, groaning disappointment, Itto pulls completely out on the next thrust and he uses the hand on your hip to angle your backside towards Gorou. You clench your teeth at the sensation of your pussy weakly squeezing around nothing, struggling to retract after being moulded around the shape of him, and Gorou outright wheezes at the sight of you. Red hot arousal slices through you at the thought of how you must look in that moment. Soaking wet and gaping in the aftermath of someone else’s cock, spread open on your hands and knees for another man. It would have been shameful and embarrassing had you not seen with your own two eyes how very hard it made the brunette just thinking about the oni having you like this. He’d barely been able to control himself during the talk the three of you had had together, the ever present tent in his pants twitching the whole time he described this particular fantasy. You couldn’t deny that it had gotten you incredibly wet listening to him talk like that and now that it was actually happening you felt wild with arousal. 

Plaintively grinding against the air, you rear back to give him a good look at how very turned on you were, how used your cunt was thanks to someone other than him. “Gorou …” With that quiet whimper, you give your ass a needy little shake for good measure. “M’gonna’ cum.”

He swallows hard enough that you can hear the muscles in his throat working to get it down. “You’re going to cum for him?” Voice small and thin. Raspy. “Right now?” 

“Soon …”

Laughing loudly to disrupt the quiet exchange in that attention grabbing, boisterous way he always does, Itto gives your behind a light swat before yanking you close to him again. This time when he slides in it’s a much quicker affair now that you’re already stretched out for him, and you jerk upright with a choked off wail when he quickly buries himself inside you straight down to the base. Your soft innards throb around the thick intrusion, muscles locked in dizzying tension as he picks right back up where he left off, and still not even close to working up a sweat as far as you could tell. 

“Gods, Itto! You’re … you’re breaking me in half!” 

“Ya’ hear that, puppy? Bet no one’s ever told you that before, huh?” 

The low responding whine from the floor sounds all too familiar and you wonder, in a far off, dreamy sort of way if Gorou was getting close too. If he could really reach his breaking point just from watching Itto impale you on his hard cock. The mere thought of it, picturing it in your cotton stuffed mind and imagining the brunette impotently grinding his narrow hips in increasingly tighter jerks down at the oni’s feet until he finally shoots hot ropes all over himself, has your cunt spasming so wildly you nearly shoot right up off the bed. 

You really were going to cum. And much sooner than even you had anticipated. 

All it takes is one last pinching squeeze to your waist, Itto’s hand massive on you and his nails digging in sharply, for the coil to snap. You wrench against him with a distressed wail and try to shove up, angling your body as if to get away from him, but he won’t let you escape. His grip on you tightens to hold you in place while you shake and convulse through your orgasm, bleating loudly as you shudder harder than you’d thought was physically possible. The hollowed out flutter in your spread cunt feels distant yet so sharp and intense that for a split second you think you really might cry from it. 

Some moments later you finally start to come down from it one jagged piece of you at a time, and you slowly sag to lay out, twitching, in a boneless heap on top of the bed. Itto sedately fucks into you another moment longer, further churning your pulsing guts, before slowly withdrawing again. The resulting wet pop when he slips free makes you wince slightly, but you don’t get a chance to linger on it long enough to be embarrassed. 

“Man, look at the mess you made. I didn’t think you’d cum that much.” Issuing a thin, threadbare whistle, Itto shifts behind you and you numbly lift your head to look back at him, but all of his attention was on Gorou now. “Wanna’ clean me up and give your girlfriend a taste, doggy?” 

You sit up a little straighter, quickly forgetting about your own post orgasm haze when you notice Gorou’s narrow shoulders are trembling just enough for it to be obvious. His pointed canine ears swivel vaguely in your direction at the movement but his eyes remain locked on Itto as he submissively shuffles closer on the floor so he can lean up and catch that heavy, straining cock in his mouth. You were a little surprised Itto hadn’t already cum, having half expected him to shoot ropes almost as soon as he was seated inside you, but you appreciated the (rare) show of foresight on his part. Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, you dazedly glance down between them as Gorou moans at the taste of you on the other man. His own erection was still painfully hard, flushed dark now and twitching eagerly in its neglected state, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You had just the thing in mind to take care of him. 

“I think he’s been good this whole time don’t you, Itto?” 

“Huh?” The horned oni glances over at you, clearly more than a little distracted by what Gorou was doing between his legs. “Oh. Uh, yeah. You got something in mind?” 

You nod and carefully climb off the bed, going slow to make sure your legs would support you after such an intense session. It’s slow going at first, but somehow they hold out. “I’d say he’s earned a reward. Let me grab it real quick.” 

Gorou whines from his spot on the floor, no doubt guessing at what you were scheming, but the excited twitch of his tail assures you he likes the idea. So transparent and easy to read. It was incredibly cute. 

Easing open the bottom drawer in the nightstand, you pull out the rubbery cylinder hidden away inside and quickly join Gorou where he’s kneeling. With his mouth still preoccupied around Itto, all he can do is helplessly watch when you bring the toy up and spit in it to lubricate the interior passage. Meaningfully, you then hold it up to his face and he hesitates only a brief moment before pulling off the the other man, panting as he adds his own saliva to the mix. You smile at him and make a suggestive show of fingering into the hole, pushing the mingling spit deeper in and making sure he gets a good look at it while you do it. 

“My pussy is only for Itto but I’m sure this will suffice just as well, won’t it Gorou? At least you’ll get to cum this way … it’s either that or my feet. Which would you prefer?” 

Gorou heaves, lurching slightly as if you’d sucker punched him while he hangs his head low. “I want the toy …” He wheezes. “Please.” 

Your pussy squeezes with renewed excitement but then, with a low groan, Itto’s hand descends upon his head again, guiding him back to his waiting cock. Slyly grinning, you flip the cylinder over and reach across the brunette’s lap to fit it over his straining cock, carefully sinking it down on him while he seals his mouth around Itto again. His hips give a sensitive, desperate jerk before tersely stilling, but it’s clearly a great effort in self control for him not to wildly rut into the fake pussy with everything he’s got. You could practically see the internal struggle reflected in his face, expression pinched and flushed hotter than you’d ever seen it. 

“There,” You murmur, settling further in next to him. “Don’t you look cute like that? Cleaning Itto’s cock after I made a mess on it while you’re stuffed into a toy … I bet you’re just glad you get to cum at all though, huh?” 

Weekly nodding his head, Gorou seems to sway unsteadily on his knees as if he were beginning to feel a bit faint and you didn’t doubt that he was. But then you catch the way Itto glances between the two of you and turn your attention up at him, smiling when he furrows his brows. 

“And here I was worried about being too mean.” He murmurs, making you laugh. 

“I’m not being mean. Gorou likes some soft humiliation from time to time,” Your smile grows, taking on a mischievous edge. “And so do I. Didn't we tell you? We’re both switches.” 

Itto’s eyes widen slightly, his face going slack when your partner does something with his tongue that almost succeeds in distracting him. “Um, okay … what the hell does that mean?” 

“I’ll explain later.” You assure him, breathing out a heady sigh as you lean forward to crowd your face in close to Gorou’s. Itto seems to freeze in place when he realizes what you’re doing, blatant surprise dancing over his expression as you flick your tongue out to lap at the side of his cock and get a good taste of yourself. 

Ears twitching, Gorou mouths his way closer until your lips meet somewhere in the middle. You kiss each other over the bobbing length between you and swap the taste of pussy back and forth. The way Itto flusteredly groans sounds almost delirious, a bit woozy, but neither of you pay it any mind. 

With the hand in his lap, you grip the cylindrical toy in a steady hold and begin pumping it up and down, working Gorou’s achingly hard cock and earning a sensitive, breathless wheeze from him as he rocks back. His eyes practically roll straight up in his head, moaning a broken sob when his stuttering hips jerk and twitch but he catches himself with another low, rumbling sound of pleasure. Leaning up again, he quickly seals his mouth over Itto and starts bobbing his head to take him straight to the back of his throat. You feel your own tentative arousal double and then triple, slipping your tongue out to trace along the protruding vein on the side so you can take care of what Gorou can’t reach. Knowingly, you turn your sly gaze up at Itto who’s startled expression quickly morphs into one of pure, tortured bliss. 

“I think you guys are really trying to kill me here or something …” 

You try not to grin and fail miserably at it, ducking your head to press a lingering kiss against the dangling weight of his ballsack. “Aww, what gave it away? And here I thought we were being so very subtle.” 

“That’s not funny —“ Itto starts to say only to abruptly cut off with a whiny, vaguely flustered moan as he tips his head back and hisses up at the ceiling. He probably hadn’t anticipated himself ending up on the receiving end quite like this, getting tag teamed by the two of you, but the way his cock eagerly twitches between you and Gorou seemed to suggest he was just fine with it. 

Good. The night was still young, after all, and you were ready for more.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #arataki itto #gorou #gorou x reader #itto x reader #gorou x reader x itto #self insert bullshit

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

minific anon jumpscare! ft. dadspy :3

----------<3

Scout's used to people insulting him for not having a dad growing up. In fact, he used to insult himself for not having a father. And he insulted his father for running away. And then he started to think that maybe his father hadn't run away. He had died. And Scout decided, a dead dad is better than a dad who ran away. He didn't realize how wrong he could be.

There's only one photo of his father that he knows of. It's in his mother's locket, and she only lets Scout see it on his father's birthday.

His father was about 23 in the picture, and he has black (or dark brown, maybe?), smoothed back hair. He has piercing blue eyes, and a slight, warm smile on his face, staring at the camera. Scout was barely a year old when that photo was taken, Ma had said. It's weird to think that Scout had known his father for a little while. He just can't remember his voice.

It doesn't matter to him, anyway. He learned to survive without a father, after all. And so far, he's done a damn good job at it. Until now, at least. The stupid BLU scout had gotten an advantage on him during a physical fight, grabbing their dropped scattergun and firing into Scout's torso, blasting him backwards and off a small ledge. He'd somehow survived getting shot, but the fall had broken his ankle and likely his nose, judging by the blood starting to drip down his face from it. He'd crawled under cover to hide from BLU team. He'd heard them cap the first point, which meant that most of RED team must've retreated so Medic could heal them so they can defend the next point.

And they'd forgotten about him. Or, assumed he was dead. Or figured he was busy fighting. Groaning, Scout sits upright and starts to try and treat his injuries, but his hands are too shaky to hold the medkit right.

"Scout!" Someone's voice whisper-yells from a bush, and he looks up to see the outline of Spy in the treeline nearby. "Come quickly, there's nobody nearby. Bring that medkit."

Scout nods, and drags himself towards the treeline, where Spy puts an invis watch around his non-injured wrist and turns him invisible as well, and drags him further into the trees for more cover.

"Do you want to tell me what happened or sulk in defeat?" Spy asks, somewhat mockingly.

"BLU scout." Scout mutters, wiping his nose. "We got in a fistfight an' they got their gun and shot me."

"A miracle you're still alive. Give me that." Spy grabs the medkit and starts to treat Scout's wounds with surprising precision.

Silence falls between the two for a few minutes. Spy finishes with treating Scout's wounds, and helps him stand, slinging his arm around his shoulders and starting to walk.

"Hey, uh, Spy."

"What, Scout?" Spy looks at him, annoyed.

"...Thanks." Scout mumbles. Surprise lights in Spy's eyes for a moment before he looks away with a huff.

"But of course." Spy narrows his eyes. "Your mother would not want her son returning home in a box."

"Yeah." Scout laughs slightly. "She'd kill me again. And Miss Pauling, too, probably."

"Hm." Spy stops for a second, checking for any signs of BLU before continuing.

"Hey, Spy, do you have any family?" Scout asks. "Like, back in France?"

Spy doesn't say anything. He just stops dead in his tracks.

"Uh... Spy? I get it if ya can't answer, but... why'd you stop?" Scout asks, slightly nervous.

"I don't have family in France." Spy answers flatly.

"Oh... um, did they move to America with you?"

"No. They died in the second world war." Spy narrows his eyes. "But I did have family here. But I... left them."

"Well, why'd ya do that?" Scout frowns. Spy doesn't answer, just continues walking. Scout lets the question hang in the air, instead decided to look at Spy's face. He rarely ever was this close to Spy, as the latter usually was annoyed by Scout and avoided him, and Scout never got to study Spy's face that well. He had drawn all of the other mercs except for Spy so far.

Spy has piercing blue eyes and fairly sharp cheekbones, and his chin sticks out a little bit. His nose is pointed downward slightly.

"I feel like I've seen you before somewhere, dude." Scout breaks the silence. "You remind me of someone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spy frowns, suddenly defensive. "We've never met until we took this job."

"I dunno. You just look familiar. Like, um, your facial features, I mean." Scout shrugs, and Spy just rolls his eyes, continuing back to the base.

RED ending up being able to defend the last point, thanks to Sniper's quick thinking and eliminating the enemy medic and making quick work of the rest of the team using his SMG.

Scout couldn't shake off the strange feeling of familiarity from Spy. He's seen that face somewhere before. But where? And why was it bothering him this much? Sighing, he rolls over on his bed and reaches for his Bonk!, only to knock something off the nightstand.

His ma's locket. She'd sent it in the mail a few months back, and he hadn't gotten it open yet. But it seems to have popped open since he dropped it on the floor accidentally. Scout grabs it and looks at the photo inside.

His blood runs cold.

There's only one way to be sure.

Running down the hall, Scout makes his way towards the room, pushing the door open as silently as possible and sneaking into the room. He reaches for it, only for Spy's hand to grab his wrist in an icy grip.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Spy snaps, pushing Scout backwards. "And how on earth did you get in without me noticing you opening the door?"

"Doesn't matter! I gotta know somethin'!" Scout holds the locket out. Spy raises his eyebrows.

"About jewerly? You'd be better off asking Miss Pauling---" Spy starts.

"The photo." Scout drops the locket in Spy's hand, and the Frenchman looks at it. And his face falls.

"Where... Where did you get this?" Spy demands.

"It's my Ma's. You look like him." Scout stares at Spy.

"Well... I suppose we do--" Spy hands the locket back. "But I can assure you that is not me."

"Prove it." Scout stares at Spy. "Take your mask off."

"What?"

"Take it off." Scout stares evenly at Spy. "Right. Now."

"I'd rather die." Spy scoffs, and motions for Scout to leave. Scout rolls his eyes before lunging at Spy, grabbing the mask and starts pulling at it. Spy lets out a shout of surprise before starting to fight back, but Scout pulls the mask off. But before he can look, Spy kicks him in the gut and stumbles away, putting a hand over his face to hide it, turning his back to Scout. Scout stands slowly, looking at the mask in his hand, and then at Spy.

"Look at me." Scout whispers. "Look at me, Spy."

"And if I don't?" Spy asks, his voice slightly muffled by his hand.

"I-- I'll burn the mask!" Scout says, surprised by his own words, but he holds true to his words, pulling the lighter Pyro had given him from his pocket, and flicks the lid off. The sound causes Spy to stiffen, and after another moment of hesitation, he lowers his hand and turns to face Scout.

He looks just like the photo, just older and a defeated look on his face.

"Are you happy now, Scout? Is this really what you wanted?" Spy asks, holding his hand out for the mask.

Scout's lower jaw trembles, and he stares in shock. Taking a step back.

"You... You fucking snake." Scout whispers. Spy blinks, surprised. "You're my father--- You fucking SNAKE!" Scout's sudden yelling surprises Spy. He doesn't say a word for a few seconds. Silence fills the void between then.

"You ain't even gonna defend yourself?" Scout scoffs. "I went.... 26 fuckin' years thinking that you were dead, but here you are... fucking alive and well, rich as ever. Was I just--- just not a good enough son for ya, is that what it is?" Scout walks closer to Spy, poking his chest. "Was Ma not good enough for ya?!"

"Your mother is a wonderful woman---" Spy starts.

"Then why'd you break her fucking heart?!" Scout yells. "Huh?! Was she not good enough for you?! Was she just another one of your stupid--- stupid little accessories that you got bored of and threw away?!"

"No--- Scout, let me explain---" Spy pushes Scout away. Scout doesn't want to listen to him. His vision goes red and he punches Spy. In the face. It's a strong enough punch that it knocks the Frenchman to the floor. Spy looks up at Scout, stunned.

"Jeremy..." Spy whispers. Scout doesn't listen. He lights the mask on fire and runs.

------------</3

part 2??? tomorrow Or today depending in my mood :)

Oooooooooh, angsty!!!! Welcome back, anon! I've also toyed around with the idea of Scout feeling not good enough.

#minificanon #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #spydad