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onsomenewsht · 2 months

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Darling heart, I loved you from the start

About when she got her introduction and you got a dog’s toy thrown at you

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 every dog has its day [idiom]: said to emphasise that everyone is successful or happy at some time in their life

“What the fuck is that?!”

You both barely make it into your apartment, hands leaving the handle to hold firmly around each other’s clothes.

Alexia’s defined figure is pressed between your body and the shut door, her thigh shamelessly pushing on you and her lips attacking your jaw and pulsing points.

At least it is until something distracts her.

You look around your dark apartment, quite annoyed about the interruption, spotting the cause of her sudden hesitation.

“Alexia, meet my dog Oliver. Oliver, meet my fuck buddy Alexia”

The blonde’s reply comes in the form of a smack on your arm, eyes still fixed on the pet.

“He’s not a dog, he’s a bear”

“Are you calling my sweet boy fat?”

“He’s taller than you!”

She’s not completely wrong, the German Shepherd can look quite intimidating. The fact he’s somehow still put in the middle of the room, imposing on his four muscular legs with a curious tilt of his head, does not work in his favour.

The light is now switched on, you leave Alexia by the door to take the steps toward Oliver and greet him with affection. He relaxes at the attention, eyes still fixed on the new guest, but he’s definitely enjoying your hands on his dark fur.

“What’s the matter? You knew I have a dog”, the starring context is starting to ruin your mood, “You too─”

“Nala’s a cute little bubble of fluff, he’s─ not”

“Oliver is as sweet as Nala, aren’t you?”

Finally able to please your dog enough to get his full attention, he jumps on your front excited to have his favourite person back home and you have to put a great effort to avoid his wet greetings.

“Now I’m definitely not kissing you again, maybe ever”

“Bold statement for someone who could barely wait for the car to be parked before slipping her tongue in my─”, she finds a dog’s toy lying around to throw at you before you can finish your sentence.

Wrong move, Oliver decides that Alexia’s worth his attention and takes her action as an invite to play.

You have to recall all your dog’s training hours and hide your amusement to make sure the blonde doesn’t leave your apartment traumatised by Oliver’s enthusiasm and that he doesn’t destroy the place.

You manage to leave him entertained in the living room as you lead Alexia into your bedroom, hoping to get back to business.

When you try to kiss her, she covers your face with her hand and lightly pushes you toward the bathroom.

“No, wash your face first!”

“He will grow on you”

Oliver grew on Alexia. Slowly, but he grew on her.

On the other hand, your relationship grows a bit faster. Late meetups once or twice a week turn into daily texts and sleepovers, quick coffees on the way each to your own separate lives turn into dinner dates and breakfast in your friends’ favourite places.

That’s how you find yourself on the stand of a football camp, watching two dozen or so women dressed in colourful kits running around a ball and trying to kick it better than one another.

The open-door training day allows you to observe Alexia in her natural habitat without pressure on either of you.

She knows you understand close to nothing about football, the sport never able to grab your attention for more than a couple of minutes.

You met Alexia in a club during her off-season, not impressed at all when a mutual friend tried to let you realise how famous she actually is. You were more focused on her exposed stomach and her quip remarks, to be honest.

However, since you started with the Catalan whatever it is you two started, you managed to find some interest in the sport.

Alexia looks stunning in that ridiculous kit, toned legs and imposing manners on display for you to enjoy. Oliver, beside you, seems pretty involved in the all commotion too, barking loudly whenever a familiar blonde has the ball.

When the session comes to an end, her team takes the time to thank the fans for showing up and for their support. It’s only a matter of time before Oliver takes the spotlight on himself, letting young boys and girls pet him eagerly and gathering some of Alexia’s teammates around him.

“Best wingman ever”, you say to the blonde, loud enough for one of her friends to hear as she laughs and nudges her.

“If only they knew how annoying he actually is”, Alexia whispers directly to your ear.

Both of you take advantage of the distraction created by your dog, walking a couple of steps away from the crowd. Oliver doesn’t get overwhelmed easily and he’s good with kids, so you trust him enough to let him enjoy the praises for some moments.

“He lives for the attention”

“He remembers me of someone, no less with a royal title”

“You’re so lucky there are kids around”, she says as she smiles at a little girl and drops to her height for a picture.

You have the decency to wait for the young mind to leave before taking a step closer to Alexia and whispering, “I’m sure I’m gonna get luckier once there will not be kids around”.

Oliver’s barks stop any comments from the captain.

When you come back from an early walkout with an overexcited dog at your heels, you find Alexia in your kitchen wearing just an oversized top and a smug smile.

“Mamá wants to meet you”, she covers her mouth with her self-proclaimed mug.

She’s getting more and more comfortable around your apartment lately, so you let her have the mug and a designated spot on your sofa and you don’t point out her vintage t-shirt collection taking up more space in your closet.

“I met her”, your eyebrow rises in challenge as said mug hides her red cheeks.

“Properly, idiota!”

You both can agree that the woman rushing into the blonde’s apartment, happily bringing a freshly made dinner, but finding you in a compromising position on top of her daughter is not the best way to be introduced.

You still don’t know how to introduce each other in the first place.

“Do you want me to meet her?”

“I met Oliver”

Your dog is currently lying on Alexia’s feet, you catch her giving him bits of her breakfast despite repriming both of them multiple times.

She still insists on saying she doesn’t like him, his excited nature and imposing form too much to deal with. Oliver, as the naive huge animal he is, seems not to care about her initial detachment, always happy to have the Catalan around.

Almost as the Catalan herself.

“You throw a toy at me and won him over, he is a simple boy”

“I think if you do the same, mamá will be as amused”

“Are you gonna introduce me the same way I introduced you?”

“How about we make it official?”

“I’m not sure”, you try to look sceptical as you catch your dog’s attention, “What do you think, Oliver?”

Enthusiastic barks and open laughs fill the room at your question.

fine.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #here we go again #my wo(rd)so #thank to alba for her service #life changed #my life changed #i dont even have a dog

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vampsywrites · 10 months

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a protector

synopsis: after your acceptance into the omaticaya clan, neteyam takes you to utraya mokri (the tree of voices)

tags: fluffyy, aged up! neteyam (18-19), neteyam pining hard, reader being a tease, neteyam playing hard to get only to end up jealous someone help him

a/n: neteyam is just his mother cloned fight me/j also, in this au the tree of voices was not destroyed

w.c: 0.7k

The luminescent flora seemed to come alive, painting the surroundings in a mystical hue. Intrigued, your fingers extend towards the nearest tree, cautiously exploring its glistening trunk. Neteyam observes your genuine curiosity with a warm smile, appreciating the reverence you show for this sacred place.

Underfoot, a bed of moss glows faintly. Peals of laughter slips from your lips as you see it react to your footsteps with expanding rings of light.

"This is a place for prayers to be heard," Neteyam's voice barely rose above a hushed murmur as he gently led you towards the center of mesmerizing bioluminescent willow trees. "And sometimes, Eywa answers."

"It's beautiful," you gasp out breathlessly, delving deeper into the heart of this sacred wilderness. Neteyam faithfully follows like a lost puppy, his gaze fixed intently upon your back. After taking a moment to immerse yourself in the enchanting surroundings, you finally turn your attention back to him.

"Is there a specific reason you brought me here?" you inquire, although a part of you already senses the significance behind this meet-up.

As your gaze lands on Neteyam, you take note of his refined attire, a welcome change from his usual rugged warrior-like style.

Tonight, he stands tall and proud, his frame accentuated by the elaborate ceremonial garb he wears. Woven green bands, expertly crafted, encircle his firm biceps as its vibrant hues shimmer in the dappled light filtering through the canopy. Further down, your gaze is drawn to the beaded garment gracing his waist, adorned by carved wooden beads and shining gems.

The warrior fakes a coughs, turning around to brush his fingers through one of the draping tendrils." You are Omaticaya now. You are one of the people. Which means you may make your own bow from the wood of Hometree."

Neteyam pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering briefly towards you before retreating back to the ground. "And… you may choose a mate."

Amusement dances in your eyes as you watch him struggle to maintain a casual façade, trying hard not to glance back at you.

"Is that so?" you playfully respond, pretending not to understand the implications. Neteyam nods with his back still turned from you.

"Ao'sun is a skilled weaver," Neteyam murmurs softly, his voice scarcely above a whisper, "He is one of our best."

The willow trees sway gently as a cool breeze sweeps through the forest. You step closer to him until you are flush against his side, feeling the warmth of his body against your own. "I don't want Ao'sun," you say, your tone teasing yet sincere.

Neteyam swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips as he tries to process your words. "Natiro is a very skilled crafter," he stammers, attempting to divert the conversation.

"Indeed," you agree, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of your lips, "He is."

A flicker of jealousy sparks in Neteyam's eyes, momentarily betraying his composure. He tries to conceal his inner turmoil, but his clenched jaw and the sudden tension in his posture give him away. The admission of other potential suitors stirs an unexpected wave of possessiveness within him.

You sense the shift in his demeanor, your cheeky smile widening ever so slightly. Chuckling, you lean in closer, your voice a soft whisper against his ear.

"But, I don't want him. There is someone else who has captivated me," you confess, your voice filled with affection. "A certain protector of mine. And he is not just anyone; he is a mighty warrior. One who has become incredibly dear to me."

Neteyam's lips part, but no words escape. Instead, he shakily reaches out, his large hand tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch gentle yet dominating. In that moment, the jungle around you seems to hold its breath. The willow trees swaying in anticipation, their whispered rustle echoing the tender exchange.

With a knowing smile, you gently place your hand atop Neteyam's, intertwining your fingers with his. "Ma'teyam, it has always been you," you affirm, your voice filled with assurance. "Your strength, your loyalty, your, at times, overbearing protectiveness and the way you make me feel…"

Neteyam's eyes shimmer with a depth of emotion. Wasting no time, he sweeps you into his strong arms, pressing his lips against yours, igniting a flame of desire that courses through your entire being. Once your lips separate, a comfortable silence fills the air, interrupted only by the sound of your pants.

taglist: @avatarmasterlistblog

"Ma'teyam," you smile up at him, "I choose you."

#💫—vampsywrites #avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x reader

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gardenofnoah · 11 months

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baby was born all wrong

remember this drabble?? yeah....

wc: 2.7k

tags: MDNI, smut, brat tamer bkg, gn reader, afab body parts named, pet names (“baby”, “sweetheart”), oral (reader receiving), fingering, toy use, dubcon just to be safe (but not really)

you don’t know why you’re like this. truly, you’d be better if you could.

most days you are. with a little thought behind it, you can be sweet. tender, even. receptive to love and care and able to give it right back.

but there are some days when you wake up and you just… can’t. there’s a synapse that’s short-circuited, or something, and all you know how to do is bare your teeth and snap them at every soft touch that comes too close. you try to squash the feeling down and it makes it worse. you just want to hurt. you want to destroy. you want to get it back threefold.

today is one of those days.

you’re sure katsuki can tell. it’s not like you’re hiding it, with the way you snap at him when he comes up behind you in the kitchen as you’re making tea.

“get off of me,” you grumble, not turning to look at him. you swear you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips against your shoulder before he retreats without a response. you feel the anger fizzle in your gut and try to return to the task at hand.

the day goes on similarly—snapping at him for every wrong movement, and getting more irritated when his only reaction is a small, knowing smile. it’s infuriating—you don’t understand why the ever-feared and perpetually combative Dynamight is tolerating the way you’re acting.

“what is wrong with you?” you ask through your exasperation, throwing your hands up. he only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the couch. the anger creeps farther up your neck and you feel its burn. “why aren’t you saying anything?”

that irritating smile is back on his face. “because you want me to.”

you scowl at him, feeling your rage mix with something like shame. at once you understand—he only considers you to be a nuisance. something that can be ignored.

it only spurs you on.

“oh, i apologize. i should not have assumed that my partner was man enough to stand up for himself.”

the smirk on his face tells you that he’s amused—and unwilling to take the bait. it makes you feel fucking crazy—you just want him to get in your face and scream like you know he can. it would feel so much better than whatever this is—this one sided battle that you’ve created and are trying so hard to win.

you stomp into the kitchen, grumbling to yourself, making sure it’s loud enough for him to hear. you get so wrapped up in slamming the cupboards that you don’t hear him approach until his full weight is pressed against your back. he reaches for the countertop with both hands, effectively trapping you against it.

“you’re gonna piss off the neighbors with all your noise.”

“get the fuck off me, katsuki,” you snap, thrashing against his hold. he doesn’t budge. your teeth grind together painfully. he hums, light and amused.

“why? my baby clearly wants attention.”

“i don’t want anything from you—”

he only chuckles, pressing you further into the counter. you feel him now—rock hard against your backside. your lips curl back into a snarl.

“sure ya do,” he says, voice low in your ear, “you’ve been beggin’ for it all day. that’s what this is, right? why you’ve been mouthin’ off to me like you are? just tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

you feel like an animal caught in a trap. your eyes dart around for a space you can squeeze out of, but his massive frame is everywhere around you. you try to squeeze under his arm to get away from him, but his hips press you forward again, pushing until you’re bent over the counter. you try to stand up, but you feel the heat of his palm wrap around the nape of your neck, keeping you still with your chest pressed to the wood.

at his display of strength, your resolve falters—you feel your edges start to dull and soften and you want to relax in his hold—but you fight to keep up your petulance, even if it’s only for show now.

“i don’t fuck pathetic men,” you spit, only it’s not nearly as harsh as you want it to sound.

katsuki snorts behind you. you feel the weight of him across your back when he leans over you.

“that’s fine,” you can hear the grin on his lips as they brush the space under your ear, “i don’t fuck mouthy little brats.”

he keeps his hand around your neck as he stands again, keeping you pinned as his other hand roams down your body. you feel it slip under the waist band of your pants, and then under the hem of your underwear.

“i just fucking told you—“

“weird,” he cuts you off, his tone nothing but smug, “you’re soaking wet.”

you can feel the way your body betrays you as he plays with you—his fingertips slip through your folds freely and you press your forehead into the counter, mentally willing yourself not to react. you feel him spread you open with his first and third finger, and the calloused tip of his middle brushes over your clit softly, sending hot bolts of electricity up your spine. he draws lazy circles over the aching bud with barely there pressure and you can’t stop the whine that rumbles through you.

“i think you’re a liar,” his voice is deep and dangerous in your ear and you shudder underneath him. you can practically hear how it strokes his ego, but you find yourself caring less and less with every passing second. “i think you do this because you want me t’be rough with you.”

he doesn’t let you respond—he just presses down a little harder and adds another finger as he strokes you, letting your clit glide snugly between his first and middle fingers with every pass. you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. you can feel yourself soaking his hand and ruining your underwear. the knowledge of that has your hips kicking up into his palm, searching for more pressure, more friction. he clicks his tongue at you, pulling his hand out of your pants.

you squeeze your eyes shut, biting down on the plea that threatens to shatter the last bit of your facade. the only part of you that still feels the need to keep it up is your pride.

“i would’ve ruined you if you’d asked me to,” he murmurs, voice laced with something pitying and a little mean, “but this ain’t the way you ask.”

his still soiled fingers reach to cup your sex through your pants, and you feel filthy in a way that has you panting, breath leaving condensation on the cool wood top. he tightens his grip around your neck for only a fleeting, delicious second and then everything stops. he pulls away from you, and you feel too cold and boneless, still bent over the counter.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, all patronizing as he watches behind you, “thought you didn’t fuck pathetic men.”

your eyes burn. all of your anger is gone—replaced with white hot embarrassment and an all encompassing need.

“katsuki,” you sniffle, squeezing your eyes shut tight, “please, i need you—“

“now you need me?” he asks softly, closer now. you feel his fingertips ghost up your spine and you shudder. “thought you didn’t want anything from me.”

the way he’s too gentle feels violent somehow. tears well up in your eyes and you shake your head as best you can.

“i’m sorry,” you say, breath quickening with equal parts lust, shame, and a little panic at the thought that he may really not touch you, “didn’t mean it, kat, m’sorry—”

“shh,” his finger brush over the nape of your neck to tangle in your hair, scratching lightly at the base of your scalp. you shake like a leaf underneath him. “i know baby. y’just don’t know how to ask, hm?”

you can only whine, leaning into his touch. if the counter wasn’t bearing half your weight, you think you would’ve sunk to the floor by now. your pride has left you completely, and in such a short time—you feel such whiplash at the way katsuki holds so much power over you when you were sure you possessed all of it only a minute ago.

you know you have already given all of it to him to keep safe. even when you don’t want him to.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he mumurs, leaning down to press gentle kisses to the back of your neck.

“want you to hurt me,” you sniffle. you know you have to look pitiful. katsuki chuckles behind you.

“that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

you bite down on a retort, choosing to remain pliant.

“can’t have you mouthing off to me though,” he says, lips brushing your skin, “so m’not doing that.”

you immediately protest, twisting underneath him to look at him. his hand tightens in your hair, immobilizing you.

“you’re not goin’ anywhere,” he warns. “you’re gonna be good and take what i give you.”

dread seeps across your nerves but you stay still when he releases your hair. he presses gentle kisses down the length of your spine through your shirt. you feel them like they’re bruises sucked into the skin.

his fingers hook into your waistband and tug down, taking your pants and underwear with them. you shiver at the exposure, but comply when he prompts you to spread your legs wider.

“pretty little thing,” he murmurs, brushing the back of a knuckle over your soaked folds. “s’a shame that mouth is so mean.”

“m’sorry kat,” you babble, tears burning your eyes again at his teasing and your shame, “m’ sorry, m’sorry—”

you nearly come out of your skin when he sinks to his knees and you feel the wet heat of his tongue slide over your sex. it’s too soft and he knows it—his hands reach up to hold your hips from bucking backwards as he suckles on your clit.

you know better than to ask for anything more. you drop your forehead to your arms and let the tears flow as he explores to his content. you whimper when you feel the prod of his tongue inside you.

he lets out a groan as you squeeze around him. you feel the tip of the muscle explore the wet softness of your walls and fight to keep yourself from sinking down and taking it deeper.

he leaves you empty and aching as his tongue drags back up to your clit. he teases it with alternating, soft kitten licks and gentle, pulsating sucks until it’s swollen and twitching in time with the rapid flutter of your heart.

“my poor baby,” he coos in between sloppy kisses to the aching nub, “looks like it hurts.”

you let out a broken sob as he pulls it between his lips again, flicking his tongue over the tip. you nearly scream when you feel him tease your swollen heat with the tip of his finger.

he sinks in to the first knuckle, letting out a curse at the way you suck him in. he pulls away from your clit to watch your body swallow what he gives it.

“p-please” you gasp, half out of your mind with need, “your mouth, baby, please—“

“no,” he breathes through a grin, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh, “brats don’t get to cum.”

you sob out another string of apologies as he sinks inside you to the hilt. his thick finger fills you up but not enough.

“that’s it,” he groans when you clamp down on him, “keep suckin’ me back in.”

he doesn’t fuck you with any particular rhythm or force, and it leaves you a slurring, crying mess at his mercy, draped over the counter top. you feel your slick roll down your thighs in beaded drops. if he only fucked you a little harder, and just a little faster—

he pulls his finger from you, and you immediately protest, legs nearly buckling as you turn to him.

“shh,” he whispers again, gathering you in his arms and bending down to kiss the corner of your mouth, “you’re okay baby.”

his hands cradle your face and he brushes your tears from your cheeks with both thumbs, smiling at you softly. it brings them back immediately.

“katsuki,” you croak, grabbing at his shirt with both hands, “please.”

he hums softly, bringing you into his chest. “you gonna be good for me?”

you nod emphatically, making him chuckle.

“good. want you to make yourself cum.”

your eyes go wide and you look up at him, already shaking your head. you need him—you need—

“hey,” he calls to you gently, redirecting your spiral, “you make yourself cum now and i’ll be as rough as y’want me to be tomorrow. anythin’ you need.”

you shiver in his arms, already anticipating his promise. after a moment, you shakily agree, albeit with a little trepidation.

“there ya go,” he coos, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. “go pick a toy and get in bed.”

less than 5 minutes later you find yourself under the scrutiny of his gaze, legs spread wide as you lay on your belly with your favorite suction toy pulsing away on your clit. you feel the bed dip as he crawls over you, hovering on all fours in the spaces left by your own limbs. he bends down to nip at the junction between your shoulder and neck. you let out a whimper when his tongue laves over the bite.

you grind your hips down into the mattress, pushing the toy harder into your clit. you feel a little drop of arousal roll from your sloppy little hole to where the toy is, making it slick.

you reach back to sink your own fingers inside you, but you can’t reach deep enough for it to feel good with the toy in the way. you whine in frustration, pressing down harder onto the source of the pulsating pressure.

“what’s the matter baby?” katsuki coos, smoothing a warm palm over the curve of your ass, “can’t reach?”

you sniff, shaking your head pitifully against the sheets. “can’t do it kat.”

he tuts at you, rubbing the inside of your thigh soothingly. “guess i can help ya a little.”

your mouth drops open when you feel two thick fingers slip slowly inside you. he fills you to the hilt and you whine when he doesn’t move.

“you gotta do the rest, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

you whine in protest but do what he says, snapping your hips in a strange and disjointed semi circle to chase the dual simulation. he murmurs soft praises as you fuck yourself on his fingers, squeezing him tightly with every pulse around your sensitive clit.

“that’s it baby,” he praises, “you’re right there, huh? can feel you squeezin’ me.”

“please, please—” you babble, trembling all over, just out of reach of your release, “m’gonna cum, i promise—“

“such a sweet little thing. s’all you needed, hm? just needed to fuck the brat outta ya?”

you nod pitifully, so so close.

“go ahead then, baby. be good a cum all over my fingers.”

you sink down on them at an angle that sends his fingertips right where you need them and it sends you over the edge. you press your face into the pillow, crying out as you tremble with every wave of release that washes over you. he keeps you plugged up with his fingers, letting out a low curse as you clamp down on him. the suction of the toy prolongs your high, fluttering against your clit until it hurts. you whine and reach down to switch off the toy.

katsuki reaches up to smooth his palm over the small of your back, pulling his fingers from you slowly and making you shiver. he grabs the toy from underneath you and leans over to set it on the nightstand. crawling back up to you, he lays on his side and pulls you into his chest.

“i’m sorry i was mean,” you whisper, feeling more vulnerable now. the shame settles over you like a thick blanket and it feels suffocating.

his hand smooths over your hair, cradling the back of your head. you feel the chuckle rumble in his chest.

“did y’wake up wrong or what?”

you press your face further into his chest. “think so.”

he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “s’alright baby. i like you mean.”

#don’t look at me <3 #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou fic #fic: baby was born all wrong

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moondirti · 11 months

Text

animalic (2)

← chapter 1 // series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: a game of cat and mouse warnings: enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, guns, death, blood, angst, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as ‘wraith’) notes: remember when i said part 2 would take a while? i lied. the next chapter is fun as all hell so i wanted to churn this one out as build up. teehee i hope yall like it regardless

He let you go.

No matter how Miguel tries to vindicate it, he rounds back to the same conclusion. You weren’t subtle, regardless of what you’d have yourself believe; he’d seen the calculations glaze over your eyes the instant he pinned you to the wall. He knew what was coming, how your heavy breathing was a cover for the clicks of his watch – of which he heard regardless – and your squirming a diversion from the movement of your busy fingers. He had a goddamn plan too, a fail safe in case you decided to attack instead of listening to reason.

(One he’d settled on for the duration of your lost consciousness, for knowledge that you would.)

So, there is no dismissing it. You’re obnoxious and lack precision, and he could have had you halfway back home by now, which isn’t the case – because he let you go.

The frigid air of his office thrums with irritation, weighing down on his shoulders until they collapse inwards, his hands coming up to rub the weariness off his expression. HQ has been unsettlingly quiet as of late – occupied by only a fraction of its regular population – and the peace worries him. History betrays its status as the precursor to havoc; lulls in the past have fooled him into believing his mission was drawing to a close, only for another anomaly, another mess, to spin that naivety on its head.

You were one such instance. A year ago, you’d popped up on an Earth that wasn’t your own, and didn’t leave until you’d drawn all that you could from it. It’s an empty husk now, lacking land to propagate its agriculture. Thousands – millions – dead, from the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

Parasite. A fucking parasite who just won’t quit.

The mantra surges through him, festering from the base of his gut to the cap of his tongue. It bursts out with a roar right then, the sudden violence finding monitors thrown across the room, smashed to bits of orange light and static. It does nothing to sate him, though, the heady anger filtering out like molasses. His back hunches as he draws in thin breaths. He doesn’t count, nor does he attempt to. Instead, he looks for his only real decompressor.

The video of Gabriella flickers at him from a distant floor, the transparent tablet wrecked with four distinct claw marks. He exhales, pulling it back to the platform with an extended web.

“Boss,”

His mija smiles toothily down at his digital self, winding her small palms in his hair for balance as he carries her. He recalls helping with hers, tying it back into shabby ponytails the mornings before a big game. How she wouldn’t let anyone fix it afterwards, not until her elastic slipped off the ends and her bangs hindered her playing. And she’d run to him, whenever, to get it fixed again.

“Boss.”

Her jokes resonate still, echoing laughter from when she’d poke fun at how bad he’d gotten at it, amused by the sudden decline in ability. To Miguel, it was one more reminder that the life he led wasn’t his own.

“Oh Miguel!”

So much for calming down.

“Lyla.” He looks up at the virtual assistant, her corporeal character a little fuzzy around the edges. She chooses to ignore his dissociative episode, rather projecting a map of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse, a point off centre highlighted in red. His heart skips. Placing the tablet down on his desk, he takes a step closer to survey the pin.

“Managed to track the Wraith down using the day pass you’d given her. Currently stationed on Earth-15, no signs of jumping anytime soon.”

Parasitic, and stupid enough to forgo destroying a potential tracking device.

Lyla snickers, seemingly able to read the sneer pulling at his cheeks.

“Seems like she’s afraid of glitching more so than she is you, Boss.”

His glare snaps to meet her heart shaped sunglasses.

“Funny.” His assistant shrugs at his admonishment. “Pull up the anomaly cam.”

A second later, your figure blinks into sight.

You’re crouched atop a tiled floor, the grout darkened to near-black with grime. In front of you lies a sparse spread of medical supplies; gauze, scissors, and miniature packets of disinfectant wipes. Miguel can’t help but wonder what you think you’re doing, treating your wounds in a bathroom as unsanitary as the one that cramps you. Graffiti littered walls, nests of used paper towels in every corner. You spring up to wash your hands after undoing the old bandages that hugged your forearm, but all that comes out is an inconsistent splutter of grey water.

His chest twinges, a tug of intrinsic sympathy playing against him. It worsens at the sight of your injury, the consequences of his talons’ assault on you, the puncture points brimming yellow and blackening closer to their middles. He can’t tell whether it’s gotten any better, whether you were good and had it treated by a professional, or made the common mistake of relying too much on your enhanced healing.

“Gave her a harsh gig there. You always that rough?”

“When I need to be.” Miguel murmurs, skimming over the conspicuous innuendo.

“Right. Until it comes to finishing the job, that is.” And, despite the offence taken to Lyla’s jest, he can hardly disagree. Newfound resolve hardens within him, sympathy fleeting at its failure to deter him.

“Set coordinates for Earth-15.” He rumbles, gesturing to his wrist as he walks away. The assistant does as she’s told, shrinking back to an icon on his watch. While waiting for the portal to configure, Miguel cocks his head, taking one last look at your oblivious form.

“I won't let her get away this time.”

“Put the money in the fucking bag or she gets it!”

Of all the spider-people you’ve met, you don’t believe any have been the hostage in an armed robbery situation. You imagine that they’d come in at the last minute, valiantly swinging through the window, accentuating their arrival in a shower of shattered glass. They’d demand the money be remitted, and all’s well that ends well. But – of course – there’s got to be a first for everything; your record just so happens to be the lamest of the bunch.

The masked man presses the gun further into your temple, bursting capillaries until the spot starts to ache with a raw tenderness. His body wraps around you, other arm waving wildly outwards, extending a plastic bag to the poor soul behind the register. You take a great gulp of air, staring at the buzzing fluorescents above, and pray.

Lord, now would be a really good time to phase out.

“P-Please, leave her be.” The owner throws a potful of crumpled fives into the bag, as if to punctuate her plea. The man is dismissive in face, urging her for more, shaking the receptacle with comedic insistence. You purse your lips, blinking up at the ceiling once more.

Or make this more exciting, at the very least.

“And you!” You’re jolted out of being a passive observer, rattled when the man diverts his attention to you. His gun thrusts harder against your forming bruise, adding to the list of damages sustained in the past week alone. You peer at him from the corner of your eye. His roll incredulously, pointing to the bill in your grip. “The twenty!”

“Is that a real gun?”

“Wha– Of course it’s a real fucking gun! Put the money–”

“In the bag. I know.”

His hold on you slackens, expectant. By contrast, you ball your fist and punch him square in the nose. The hit sends him reeling farther than it should for the amount of space you had in winding back, the feat prompting a deluge of pride to wash over you. It’s bolstered when he drops the spoils in the process, toppling into a rack of chips and cup noodles that consequently cushion his fall.

Your first save.

Filled with bravado, you snatch and pass over the bag to the cashier.

“Here you go, ma’am.”

But she doesn’t look at you. Rather, her stare remains trained on the man you’d just disabled. Nerves maturating, you join her line of vision, only to be met with the barrel end of his weapon. You catch the vicious conclusion in the way his hand trembles, veins protruding from the pale skin, supplying courage to the finger hovering right over the trigger. You process it all, aware of the ways it can end, at how fast it can sour.

Before you can so much as act on it, he shoots.

Your skin prickles.

You’ve heard stories of people who don’t realise when a bullet strikes them. Their bodies take time to catch up to the pain, cells stuck in paralytic shock, stimulus signals held somewhere between the existential and a will to delay the inevitable. You think you understand what they mean, your mind dragging in a rare bout of silence. Things slow, for a perennial moment, and you wonder how fast the blood loss will kill you.

You can do nothing but follow the man, who scrambles to a stand, letting him take the money – with whatever else – and watching as he runs out onto the street.

And even still, the pain hasn’t caught up to you.

Looking down, the case starts piecing itself together. No blood sticks to your shirt, the fabric still as pristine as it had been upon purchase. You check your arms, then your legs, then reach up to smooth over your head. Nothing. You’re okay.

The relief is short-lived when the morbid sound of gurgling meets your ears. Slowly, you turn, bracing for what you knew you’d find.

The scene unfolds with a distressing intensity as crimson liquid blooms from the cashier’s throat. The torrent is never-ending, every gush of ichor bringing forth a new momentum, splattering its macabre scene over the register. Her eyes gloss over with an unshed panel of tears, and she looks to you for help.

She looks to you.

(You don’t admit it to yourself, but it’s the novelty of that fact that pushes you into action.)

With a swift leap over the counter, you intercept her mid-fall, carefully cradling her weight as you guide her down to the ground. Scanning your surroundings, you search for a means to call for help. A rotary phone catches your recognition, situated a ways off by the back exit. Despite the inconvenient placement, it stands as your sole option at this stage.

In a split second decision, you sling your backpack off, hastily rummaging through its contents. You find solace in your hoodie, gathering its folds to tightly bunch it up, converting it into a makeshift compress. Knowing she lacks the strength to apply pressure to the wound, you move to wrap it around her neck, hopeful that it’s tight enough to stem the bleeding while leaving enough room for air.

Urgency fuelling your every step, you leave her side for a fleeting moment, dashing over to call an ambulance. Your medical knowledge only extends so far, and some selfish part of you itches to pass on the responsibility to someone more competent. It’s an impulse that derives from an innate acceptance, that resoundingly insightful voice in your head telling you it's too late. That she’s already dead, had been from the moment the bullet – that was meant for you – missed.

Perhaps your help isn’t really helpful at all, then. Perhaps it’s your attempt to wash your hands of the sin. You think back to the grey water in the bathroom, how exasperated you had been at your inability to stay clean.

(You don’t think you’ll ever rid yourself of this.)

“911, what’s your emergency?” The question crackles through the receiver.

The bell by the entrance jingles, the chime accompanied by heavy footsteps. You press yourself against the wall, the concept of the robber returning filling you with such dread that you feel your stomach tighten and congeal. It’s a heavy lump, icy cold and slippery, and it seems to weigh a hundred pounds.

“Hello?” The operator says.

But if it was the man, then he'd have to have changed into a navy and red suit. Somehow, your terror worsens.

“Hijo de la chingada…” The whisper is barely legible, but the deep baritone is discernible enough to validate the assumption pulled from your brief glimpse. You’d recognise him anywhere.

Shrinking in on yourself, you cup your palm over your mouth. “Hello,”

“Ma’am? Can you describe your emergency?”

“There was an armed robbery at the convenience off sixth and Third. Someone’s hurt.” You hardly register the words as they escape you, eyeing Miguel when he crouches over the lady. You’re propelled back to the conclusion of your last meeting; how his claws tore into you, how his persistence didn't falter until you pressed yourself onto him.

That kiss.

He runs a finger over your hoodie-turned-compress, wavering, like he can’t quite place where he’d seen it before.

Or, maybe he can, for he spins to meet your wide-eyed stare.

You drop the phone, bolting out the back door, charged on a paroxysm of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated panic.

chapter 3 →

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corpsekiller · 10 days

Text

𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠) — 𝐤.𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮

PAIRING. katsuki bakugou x genderneutral!reader

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, overuse of quirk, mentions of burns

SYNOPSIS. after pushing himself beyond his limits during training, katsuki tries to deal with the consequences of his actions on his own.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. so, i'm finally back after taking a long break from writing! i honestly didn't plan to disappear without a word, but uni and work were keeping me really busy and i just didn't find the time to write. anyway, i hope you enjoy this little fic! <3

LENGTH. will be added later!

MASTERLIST

Everything fuckin' hurts.

His skin is reddened and the palms are blistered, aching and tender to the touch as he fumbles with the first-aid kit, rummaging through the small bag for some bandages to cover his open wounds. The cold water he ran over his sore fingers did little to soothe the pain and Bakugou swallows a broken sob when he finds nothing to stop the cuts from bleeding, tries to blink away the tears that begin to blur his vision as he tosses the first-aid kit across the room and slides down the wall to his knees.

"Katsu, are you in there?"

Your voice makes him flinch. It's muffled behind the closed door, barely audible, but he can still hear the honest concern laced in every word as you call out his name a second time. His heart stumbles in his chest, a treacherous rhythm behind his ribs that begs for help and yet, he can't bring himself to reply no matter how hard he tries — his lips part, but instead of words he finds stones in the hollow of his mouth.

No sound leaves his throat.

You're so pathetic, a voice whispers. It sounds strangely like his own.

For a second, Katsuki stares at the sickeningly white tiles beneath his feet, now stained with the remnants of his blood still oozing from his hand. Deep crimson glints tauntingly back at him, the bitter affirmation of his failure to control his explosive quirk reflecting in each little drop and fuck, he feels another sob shatter his body before he can clasp his bruised hands over his mouth — it makes him want to claw right through his chest, to grab his weakness right by the fuckin' throat and twist its brittle neck to silence it for the rest of his life.

He can't.

"Fuck off," he manages to bark around the stones and buries his face in the crook of his elbow, presses his nose into the sleeve of his of his shirt to suffocate this awful desperation that threatens to climb out his throat. "I'm fine, okay? I don't need your fuckin' help."

It's dreadfully quiet on the other side of the door.

Katsuki's breath hitches in his chest and he listens, counts the seconds — one, two, three, four — but besides the sound of his own thoughts roaring in his head, he can't hear anything else and the realization that tumbles down with this observation feels like a knife being pushed slowly into his flesh.

You left, he thinks bitterly, he finally pushed you away like everyone else. And look, he gets it — for the longest time, that's all he's ever done; shoving people away and hiding behind a carefully constructed facade of unbridled anger. He's only every held out his hands to destroy, to crush and win and maybe now, his actions finally return to haunt him in his weakest moment.

It doesn't matter that he caught a glimpse of hope when he first met you, that he thought he finally found someone who'd only laugh at his harsh comments and tell him to calm down, I know you don't mean it with an amused smile—

You left anyway, he reminds himself. It's probably for the best.

Then, a sigh.

"You're so stupid," you retort on the other side of the door, though there's no bite in your insult. "I know you can handle yourself, but I'm not leaving you in this state, even if I have to sit here all night."

Your voice cracks and his name lingers on the tip of your tongue, sweet and soft, never falling from your lips. "C'mon, let me in."

Instinctively, he gives in.

"Alright," Bakugou replies hesitantly. "Come in, but don't... Just don't fuckin' laugh at me, alright." It's a pathetic attempt to hide the pain behind a mask of unjustified anger, he knows, but he can't let you see him like this without putting up a miserable fight. It feels like he's been stripped of any dignity he's been feigning to hold on the span of his broad shoulders, like he's been reduced to nothing but an incurable ache that clings to his broad shoulders like a shadow under the scorching midday sun.

He's not even sure you heard him, words barely above a whisper, but then the door opens and you enter. With careful steps, you come closer and crouch down, your knees hitting the cold tiles with a soft thud. Immediately, Katsuki slumps against the wall, caving his shoulders into himself to escape your eyes studying his face, gaze wandering over his features as your brows crease in worry.

He hates it.

And yet, he doesn't move when you wordlessly wrap your hands around his wrists and gently turn them to observe the burns littering his bruised skin. There's a certain kind of caution in the way you touch him, something so utterly gentle, as if you're fuckin' scared of hurting him and Bakugou curses your stupid display of affection — no one ever handled him with such care before.

So, he grits his teeth and tears his gaze away from you. It's just too much, the way you look at him.

"Y'know, you shouldn't push yourself like that."

He almost barks out a laugh. The sharpness of a cynical retort burns on the tip of his tongue and he opens his mouth to spit it out, but you're quick to cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up for a second, 'kay?" It's almost as if you expected him to argue. "Listen, I get it. I really do. I know why you always push yourself in every training session until you're about to pass about, why you always strive for perfection and overexert your quirk, but this... on the long run, this will only lead you to your early grave."

"You don't know shit," he snarls. Like a wounded animal, he fears kindness, yet he craves it. Touching you makes him want to pull away and yet, he stays frozen, unable to move, because the moment you let go he's sure the pain of his burns will pull him back into the abyss he's been fighting his way out of for what feels like an eternity and he—

He can't give up now.

So instead, he just studies your expression — thoughtful, gentle, concerned. He feels his face heat up as his fingers tremble in your gentle grasp, itching with the urge to fumble with something, anything in means of distraction. He doesn't mind the lack of space — in fact, he finds it almost soothing to feel how close you are, but he's so vulnerable beneath your eyes that his mind screams at him to run if it means you won't look at him in this way again.

"I'm not judging you, Katsu," you mumble, sensing his unease. Your thumb draws small circles on the inside of his wrist, right where his pulse flutters beneath his skin. "But even the best of us need a break every once in a while. It's not a sign of weakness to ask for help, really."

Somehow, his shoulders relax.

"No one will judge you, I promise. So why don't we head to the nurse and let her take a look at your burns?"

It is almost instinctively that he desires to lean into your gentle touch, and remember this fragile feeling for the rest of his life — Katsuki finds a different kind of healing, now that he lets his walls crumble down in your embrace.

"Okay," he whispers and shakily pushes himself to hid feet.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou imagine #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x fem!reader #boku no hero academia #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— the world in your name + eren jaeger.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — in the quiet of the night, eren realises that he'd destroy the world for you. no matter what universe your love may exist in.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, mentions of nightmares, modern!au with some canon references, aot manga spoilers (?), marriage, eren has a son, not beta read ! - fem!reader.

⭑ words — 1.5K.

⭑ notes — hi !! hello its eren's birthday and if you've been on my blog recently you'd know that i'm falling in love w him all over again so... here's a soft lil one-shot for my boy. i miss him, i want him happy again. enjoy! - m.list ✩

“hey, ‘renren. what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

before he even has a chance to respond, you’re slipping a jacket over eren’s shoulders— tucking yourself under his arm since you know that he finds comfort in your body heat.

“nothin’ much,” he leans down to brush his lips over your forehead, taking the time to appease his guilty pleasure as he breathes in the scent of your shea shampoo. “got a little crowded in there. needed the air— plus the stars are out tonight.” he’s making excuses and he has no doubt that you’ll see right through his bullshit. eren can already feel the smile on your face as you bury yourself deeper into his side, your lips brushing up against him from over his clothes.

after a second of selfishly taking him in yourself, you look up— eyes glittering and loving, reading deep into eren’s soul just like they always have, and so easily too. “bullshit.” your voice lays flat but your eyes are amused as you tip toe up to reach eren’s cheek, kissing him there. he finds that cute, that he’s taller than you now and it’s the opposite of when you were growing up. that he’s big enough to protect you where you’d do the same for him as kids. “eren jaeger not wanting to be the centre of attention at his own party? you sick or somethin’ renren?”

“don’t call me that, we’re not kids anymore.” the brunette grimaces even though his heart bristles happily in his chest.

“you don’t even like the stars. you hate being cold.”

“i like them when i’m here.” eren wraps an arm around your waist and turns to face you fully, tugging you into his chest— his forefinger and thumb tilting your head up so he can look at you better. love you a little longer. “with you.”

you roll your eyes, but melt like butter under his touch. “don’t be corny, honey.”

“you love it when i’m corny. you think it’s romantic.” he says and god— there’s that smile again. the one where your eyes crinkle and it raises your cheeks so high, it looks as if you might burst with happiness. your smile, it makes the world turn on its axis, makes the waves it the shore and the leaves fall from trees and mountains crumble into the seas. it fixes everything, it fixes him.

“come back inside, eren. we’re all waiting for you.” your voice is so soft, he can’t help but shut green eyes away as you cup the side of his face with the softness of your palm, letting the tips of your fingers twirl through his chocolate brown locks in a way that makes the stress sag from his body. “our son wants to see you blow out the candles, make a wish before mommy puts him to bed.”

“we’ll put him to bed together. i just—“ eren is so fucking lucky, he’d be a fool not to take that as fact. you’ve given him everything; a happy life, a home, a beautiful son, and all the love he could ever ask for— even after everything he’d been through, everything he’d put you through over the years. he wasn’t the best to you, not always, but you stayed. when his parents died, when the world gave out beneath his feet and he couldn’t stand up on his own. you shouldered his burdens with him even though he wasn’t as half as good to you as he should have been. but he loves you with everything he has and everything he doesn’t.

he sighs in content, brought back to reality when you cup his face with two hands instead of one and he opens his eyes just to see how worried you look. “i’ll be there in a minute. just…stay out here with me for a bit.” eren wraps his hands around your wrists softly, grounding you while you ground him and his unfairly long eyelashes flutter against your gentle palms.

“okay,” you breathe, relieved that he’s back from wherever his mind had taken him. back to you. “another minute. as long as you need, ‘ren.” there’s that pet name again, the one tied to distant memories of summers and melting ice-pops and scraped knees. you’ve known him so long, you still know how to make his heart race and you’d even given him the honour of being called your husband.

eren loves you so much. he wonders if he’s told you that he loves you today or if he’s made you feel as such. you always make him feel loved, you take care of him and your beautiful son a little more than yourself— but he swears he’ll always be there to pick up your pieces if you fall apart like he’s done before. you need looking after too, and eren knows it’s silly but sometimes he holds back on his hurt and anguish because he knows you’ll drop everything to make it go away.

you’re his partner, his wife, his first love, the mother of his child and his equal— but eren won’t let you give away any more pieces of yourself, even if that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love each other. he’ll keep you whole, feed you pieces of himself instead, keep your world spinning because he loves you.

that’s why he doesn’t tell you about the nightmares he’s been having lately. the ones of another world. the ones where he tells you he’d flatten the world for you if you told him to and the one where you look at him as if he’s a monster.

even there, you find it in your heart to love him.

eren doesn’t tell you about the nightmares because he knows that in this life, if he had that same power… he’d flatten the world for you and your son— he’d do anything to keep you safe and happy. rip stars from the sky and buildings along with them, trample the earth until everything has no choice but to start anew. that’s how much he’d sacrifice himself for you, how many pieces he’d give up just to keep your smile the way it is. he struggled to love you with the words he needs, but he hopes to whatever higher being or power is out there that his actions are enough.

because eren jaeger loves you enough to kill the entire world in your name.

in this life and all of its alternatives.

“papa! come! cake time!”

the deep depth of eren’s thoughts is breached by his little son calling out to him from the sliding glass doors on your back porch with a sheepish mikasa in tow. its then that the older brunette pulls his forehead away from yours, a smile settling on his handsome and matured features as he crouches down to welcome his little boy into his arms.

he’s so much bigger than eren had realised, maybe time is slipping away from you both. he’s almost two, has eren’s eyes and his untamed hair, but the face is all yours. that smile, the one eren’s son is giving him is so big and bright and beautiful and it’s all yours. another gift you had given eren, another person to love.

“hey there lil’ man! daddy’s comin’, okay?” eren grins as his toddler clambers into his lap to give him a slobbery kiss and a squeeze— making his head spin with adoration. even more so than hen he feels you come up behind him and rub his shoulder lovingly. “give momma ‘n i a second, yeah?”

“‘mkay!”

the toddler jumps up to hug your legs next, tugging you in the direction of his aunty mikasa with a pout that could rival eren’s. “sorry for interrupting,” she whispers fondly and apologetically. “he wanted to come get you guys, he’s been trying to ward sasha off from eating the cake.”

“well we can’t have that, can we baby?” you coo as if you’ve got the world beneath your fingers— brushing back your son’s hair before you lift him into your arms, holding him close as if you can’t believe he’s real and that eren gave him to you. your little product of love. “let’s follow aunty mika inside ‘n get papa’s candles going. then aunty sasha can have some cake, how’s that sound?”

“good momma! les’ go! les’ go!” he chants excitedly, laughing along with you as you follow mikasa back into the house— away from the cold outside.

and it’s in that moment, that eren finds himself warm— even without you by his side. because you leave him filled with so much joy, so much happiness that he couldn’t ever feel like he was unloved. not even for a second. you and your son, you’re both all that eren has in this world, you’re what ties him to this very existence, what gives him a reason to keep going.

before he can even register it, eren reaches out for you both from his place on the porch— calling out your name before you re-enter the house. “i love you,” he murmurs so softly that he fears his words might have been lost with the sway of the trees in the wind. “both of you. so much.”

but then you smile, that same smile that eren would tear the world apart for and say. “love you too. and, happy birthday, eren.”

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nexysworld · 3 months

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Summary: He warned you not to run. The consequences of trying to escape were made very clear - but you didn't listen, did you? Now you get to suffer for the choices you made. Alternatively: lots of monsterfucking with true form Sukuna.

Pairing: Sukuna x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, MDNI, Monsterfucking, True Form Sukuna, Two Dicks 4 arms baby, canon typical violence (not to reader), descriptions of death/blood (not reader), dub-con (reader is into it by the end), tongue fucking, oral, Unprotected Sex, reader gets referred to as a pet, no use of y/n.

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

AN: Similar to my Toji fic, this is the first time writing for Sukuna. Hope I did it justice.

“There you are, Little One.”

The deep gravelly voice tickled at your eardrums before the wall behind you crackled and exploded, sending debris shooting past you. Outside light from the city lit up what was left of the now destroyed building, where you sat on the floor stunned. Heartbeat in your throat, you dared to stand, forcing your stiffened body to turn and face him. “I told you, if you tried to run, I’d kill every person in the city.” He smiled lazily, recounting his own words, amused as you stiffened where you stood. He stepped closer, each footfall making the air feel heavier around you, forcing you still. “And yet you ran anyway.” His large hand cupped your cheek before patting it softly, the way one might a puppy on its head. “I can’t imagine you believed you could get away. So I assume you were looking for a display of power.”

‘No. No. Tell him no. He’s wrong.’ Your brain worked the words up, bouncing around your skull desperate for escape before halting and dying in your dry throat. Not so much as a whimper came out.

“And since you want to see my power so badly. I saved the finale of the show for last.”

It only took a second for him to leap from the floor of the building to the ground below, you in tow under his arm. The weightless feeling, you always hated it. Disorienting and nauseating. The world blurred, colors mashing together as wind whistled in your ears.

He tossed you onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of you. You pushed yourself up, the pavement rough under your palms. Not ready to make eye contact with him again, you scanned side to side. The city was in ruin, smoke and flames curling into each other as they danced around blocking the sky. What wasn’t burning or sparking with torn electrical lines, lay crumbled around. Specks that looked like ants littered the debris, your stomach threatening to come up once it occurred to you the ants were people. Bodies. Everywhere. The familiar feeling of saliva pooled in your mouth, you desperately swallowed it down, face tensing as you willed the feeling back. “You’re missing the most important view, Little One.” He cooed, turning your form to face the opposite direction. “N-no.” The words left you in an airy whisper. Three friends, lined up in front of you, forced to kneel down in a respectful bow. “Yes, actually.” This time he nuzzled into your neck from behind. “Look at them.” “Y-you can’t.” Your eyes squeezed tight, unwilling to look at the scene before you. “I can.” He brought his hand around you, squeezing your face to lift your head, holding you in position. “Open your eyes.” When you didn’t comply, he squeezed harder, a forceful grip that made you feel like your bones would shatter beneath his fingers. “Open your eyes, or I’ll start with their toes. Make you listen to their cries of pain.”

You complied this time, cracking one eye open, then the other. “Now then, who first? You pick.”

“I can’t –” You’d never heard a scream like that before. Sharp, like nails on a chalkboard before it died off into a pathetic sob. To prove his point, your friend’s foot was removed from her body, making her almost fall out of her bowing stance. In a panic you brought your shaky hands up to point at the same girl, not wanting her to suffer. “H-her.”

You could feel the way his smile widened as his cheek was still pressed against yours. You saw two painted fingers wave just slightly in your peripheral, and the boy next to her split open all over, the piece of him collapsing to the ground. You tried to turn your face again, but his grip held firm. “Wh-why?” “You didn’t ask properly, pet.” His words felt like ice in the pit of your chest.

Footless girl, fear-stricken, tried to run for it as she saw the remnants of the boy in the middle. A pathetic sight as she scrambled to her good leg, using a street rail to try and hop, blood trailing behind her. The same flick of his fingers, and her good leg was gone. Determined she continued, desperately clinging to the rail, pulling her torso along. “Yes, yes! Keep going, see how far you get.” Sukuna laughed as he watched the spectacle.

Her breath was so ragged you could hear it even at this distance, shocked that she could move at all with the blood loss. Her movements slowed as she reached the end of the rail. “Looks like you have nowhere else to go.” He mused.

And like that, she was gone too – head disappearing into thin air as if it never existed at all.

“And like that I’m bored.” He said flatly, your final friend combusting into a gush of blood before disintegrating. He didn’t even give the boy a second look. Your knees wobbled, if not for his grip you’d have hit the ground, brain too overstimulated to process. He said something to you, but it didn’t register, your vision blinking in and out before you ragdolled entirely.

*******************

You woke some time later, no real way to gauge how long – head heavy on your neck. Pawing at your sleepy eyes, you looked around not noting anything familiar. It was an older house, tatami flooring with a sliding door that was opened into the backyard. You could hear the thwacking of the bamboo fountain as it filled and emptied itself. Greenery and moonlight encompassed your vision, no sign of the city wreckage you’d been subjected to earlier.

Scanning down at yourself, you had been scrubbed clean. Tattered clothes replaced with a soft bathrobe, hair brushed and smelling of flowers. It felt wrong. Pampered and preened like a prized doll while your friends, no, while all of those people suffered. You wanted to scrunch up and cry, red faced and ugly. Force the world away while you wallowed.

“He wishes to see you now.”

Uraume’s voice made you startle, skin prickling as if it could fling itself right off your skeleton. You hadn’t noticed her presence or when she’d even entered the room. She didn’t give you the opportunity to reply either, yanking you up by the sleeve of the robe – your leash. You had no choice but to follow, using your hands to hold the fabric closed, not wanting to expose yourself to her, or the cold air. She took a hard right down a long hallway, then a sharp left – headed to the mainroom of the home, in the dead center. She finally let go of you in order to slide the double doors open, pushing you forward, and sliding them shut behind you. He sat in the center of the room on top of some colorful blankets. He was too far away and the room too dimly lit for you to see him clearly – but you could tell something was off. “Come here.” He commanded, head resting in his palm.

It was an automated response as you stepped forward, one foot, then another. A puppet on strings, hobbling forward. As his features came into view, you understood now why he looked so off. He looked less like Shuji now, that was for sure. An extra set of muscular arms were folded atop his lap, just beneath the regular ones. All four of his eyes opened, the left ones glowing red, skin distorted around them.

You froze. Just for a second, fear forcing your legs to bring you forward again until you were standing before him. Your hands kept their death grip on your robe, nearly hugging yourself. Sukuna straightened up where he was seated, all four pupils locked onto you. “What’s the matter, Little One? Don’t like my true form?”

You shook your head, not sure if the right answer was the truth or not. Luckily for you, it was. He laughed, amused by your timidness. “Very well. But I think you’ll grow to enjoy it, and all of its offerings soon enough.”

Not a clue what he meant by that, you stayed your position unmoving, staring back at him.

He looked you over one more time, scratching his chin. “Enough of this boring silence. Remove your robe.”

Your face went red at the commend, grip tightening further until the blood left your hands. It took only seconds to decide that the consequences of not listening would outweigh the embarrassed shyness you felt. Slowly, you pulled at the soft fabric – “Too slow.” Wind gusted past you, fabric shredding and hitting the ground, leaving you in nothing but the sleeves. You didn’t need to look down to know you were bare before him, your arms finally opening enough to let the remaining scraplets of fabric slide off of you and onto the floor. It was too reminiscent of your friend, the way he’d hit the ground in pieces.

He reached out one of his bottom arms, grasping at your arm to tug you forward into a sitting position on his lap. Both lower limbs came to rest on your hips, holding you there. His top left hand came up to your face, stroking it gently with the back of his hand. “Beautiful, pet. I haven’t seen a human with such captivating features in a very long time.”

His free hand snaked up your side before kneading at your breast. He pinched at your nipple, tweaking the perky bud, playing with it. The urge to squirm had you attempting to move your hips, still halted by his firm grip, the rest of your body still tense. “Hmm. You’re too stiff.” He let go of your breast, leaning back on his top hands to look at you again. “Relax.” “I can’t.” Your bottom lip wiggled, eyebrows coming together as you looked down at the monster beneath you. You weren’t sure what you wanted more, to cry, or to wail on him after everything. But you knew better than to do either. “You have nothing to fear from me, at least not now.” He added, releasing the grip on one half of your hips, rubbing your lower back tenderly. “Or maybe, it's not just fear.” He pulled you upwards slightly, so you were sitting more onto his stomach as he leaned back. “Regardless, you’ll be pliable soon enough.”

Both his bottom set of limbs smoothed up your sides, kneading at your breasts, thumbs rubbing gently over your nipples. Your toes curled slightly at the sensation, hands reaching forward to brace yourself against his chest. “That’s it.” He cooed. “Feels good, yes?” He replies, continuing to tenderly massage your chest. You nod, bringing your sight to his chest, unwilling to look him in the eyes while in such a compromising position. You were angry with yourself for reacting this way to him. You didn’t want him to garner any satisfaction, show any level or pleasure – and yet all it took was him playing with your sensitive tits to get you squirming.

Involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding against his abs to get some relief from the aching sensation between your legs. The hard muscles were an interesting feeling, the ridge of them bumping your clit with enough force to make you hiss with pleasure. His hands gave your chest one last squeeze before pulling away. Something wet lapped at you between your legs, making you whine before jumping with confusion. “You taste delicious.” Your head tilted to the side with confusion, before one of his hands pointed down. You followed the direction of the digit, another wet sensation against your clit made you jolt slightly before you finally saw the culprit. A mouth on his stomach, sitting squarely between his lower abs. It had no lips, but a large pink and slobbery tongue poked out, tasting at you. You watched as it licked against the entirety of your pussy, flat and slippery. It did it again, like licking ice cream. Confliction of disgust and pleasure melded together in your mind, nipples pebbling as your cunt squeezed together craving something to cling to as the muscle continued to attack your clit. The heady whine that flung from your throat made you feel pathetic, but your legs shook from the pleasure, thighs tensing around his stomach. “Much better, Little One.” He praised, sliding you back to where you were seated directly over the mouth’s opening. “Let yourself enjoy the pleasure.” The tongue stopped its movement, drawing away from your bundle of nerves, making you whimper disappointedly. You realized why it had retracted a moment later when it was prodding at your slippery hole before diving in. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, much longer and thicker than a human tongue, yet not as stiff as a cock. It wormed inside of you, stretching you out gently, the tip easily finding that special spot inside of you. “A-hng!” You whined out feeling yourself cinch around the muscle that continued tasting your insides. His hands took purchase on your sides, grinding you down onto him again while his tongue fucked you. Your own hands grasping at his arms for support while he moved you effortlessly against him. Your breasts bounced with the movements, the tension between your legs threatening to snap at any moment. He could sense it before you. “Good. Good pet, cum for me.” He commanded, the tongue flattening itself inside of you against the spot that had you seeing stars. His hands moved you faster against him. Like a well trained dog, you heeded the command – white hot pleasure exploding from your core before spreading out reaching the ends of your nerves, skin tingling.

Panting, you let go of his arms, falling backwards from the heaviness in your limbs. He caught you easily, sitting up again while he cradled you before placing you down on the bedding in front of him. There was a tent in his pants, the large indentation straining against the fabric. Your eyes stayed glued to it, half lidded as your pussy leaked spit and juices onto the blanket.

By the size of the bulge you could tell he was big. Not surprising given he was barely human. What did make your eyes widen into saucers, was the sight of him undoing his fabric belt, freeing himself. One fat cock sprung free, the tip drooling with beads of precum already, twitching and pulsing with need. It was massive, but human-enough. Below it though, a second one emerged, equally as large and leaky as the one above it.

You stared at them, intimidated, fearful. “Now lets see.” He stroked the top one a few times, more precum pearling at the tip before dripping off onto the bottom one. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to have fun in this form. Should I breed you with both of them at the same time?” His top most eyes narrowed as he watched your response.

Wide eyed and afraid – exactly how he liked you. He laughed, taking the massive cock he was stroking and smacked it against your cheek a few times, leaving a sticking trail of precum. The cooling sensation of it, as it dried in the night air made you shudder.

That word though, breed. The thought made you bristle as if this situation couldn't get any more awful. “N-no. Please don’t. I don’t think I.. I don’t want to be bred.” Where the confidence came to speak in this situation, you’ll never know.

He laughed again. “You don’t think? Little One, your job isn’t to think, not anymore. Not ever again. You do as you're told. Like a good pet. Now, come here.” He motioned for you to come closer.

You didn’t move, looking up at him, a small act of defiance – or at least it was supposed to be. The reality was you were too disgusted and petrified to move. Tears were soaking your cheeks again, plopping against your knees before rolling off onto the blanket.

He raised a brow, curious at your reaction. “Why are you crying?” “Because I–” The words stopped again, choked up in a sob. You rubbed your fists against your eyes, swiping them away. “I can’t do this. Not with you. Not after….please.” “Not after what? If you’re going to accuse, do it with your whole chest girl.” “It’s not an accusation! You killed them! You destroyed the city!” You wailed, grabbing the blanket in your fists.

He dropped his cock to put the hand on his stomach, leaning back into a full deep bellowy laugh, clearly finding your outrage and tears hilarious. He finally calmed down, smile still stretched onto his features. His two upper hands cupped your face, the lower ones moving to drag you forward, closer to him, until your noses nearly touched. “Who made me do that?” He asked, mockingly. “Who knew the consequences of her actions, but chose to be a cowardly little mouse anyway?” “B-but –” “No buts. You ran. They died. It’s all your fault, isn’t it?” He cooed, smoothing your tears away from your eyes. “S-stop it.” “Stop what? Reminding you of your own misfortune? Tch. Can’t even take responsibility for your own ineptitude.” He rubbed his nose against yours, a bunny kiss. “This is exactly why you’re not made to think, Little One. Can’t handle more than a thought rattling around up there before you’re in tears. Pathetic. Cute but pathetic.” Yanking you even closer, he had you reseated on him, just above the two appendages between his legs. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll clear all the thoughts out of that head. You’ll only be able to think of me from now on, no more guilt. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He pat your head, not giving you the chance to reply, leaning down to lock his lips with yours.

It was a rough kiss, messy, but softer than expected. You let out a “mmph!” into his mouth when you felt the tip of his cock prod against your hole, still slicked up from the tongue. He let go of the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting you both. His hands gripped you, sliding you down over the shaft, the stretch too much at first. As if sensing your discomfort, his abs parted again, the tongue making its way out to flick against you as you adjusted to where you were seated on him. A new gush of slick pooled out of you as your cunt clenched around him while the tongue worked your sensitive bud. It felt good, incredibly good.

“See? Just give in.” He spoke through grunts, beginning to slide you up and down his length. Each time the head of his cock would press against your inwardly sensitive spot before gliding past to kiss your cervix. The tongue below continued to circle and lick at your clit as best it could, following the motions of his hands. You were weightless to him, no harder to manipulate than a fleshlight.

Legs trembling again, your back arched as much as would allow in this position, tensing like a bow string before that familiar tidal wave of pleasure crashed down on you. This time far more intense than before as the tongue kept lapping, his cock kept drilling. Your vision had white spots scattered about, each aftershock of pleasure made you squeal.

Every now and then, the bottom cock would slap at your ass as he glided you back down. The overstimulation nearly hurt with pleasure, a sensation you didn’t think possible to experience. A particularly hard thrust had you whine out again, this time tongue out like a panting puppy, just trying to catch your breath.

He adjusted your positions, this time so your back was pressed into the blanket, legs folded against you. It made the feeling of being full intense, like he was reaching into your ribcage and popping your lungs with each movement. One hand laid flat onto your stomach, splayed out as the outline of his cock disappeared and reappeared beneath it, before pressing down. The pressure was all it took to make you cum again, toes curling, arms clawing at his back to cope with the sensation. Whatever thoughts, worries, memories had been swirling in your brain were dumped out – replaced only with a comforting black numbness as you squeezed your eyes shut, snippets of Sukuna flashing in every now and then.

A few more quick thrusts on his end had him spilling into you, hot cum warming your belly from within, spilling out of your cunt from the overflow. His movements slowed, keeping a pace that was pleasing enough to ride out his own orgasm, but not too quick to overstimulate himself.

Tired. You were tired now, could fall asleep at any moment. He patted your cheek again to get your attention. Lazily, you turned to look at him, chest still heaving as you caught your breath. “I’m not done yet, on your belly.” The thought of getting to blackout on pleasure again made your sore pussy ache again. You beamed him a dopey smile, giggling, before forcing yourself to roll over. You ignored the tired ache in your limbs, lifting your butt up for him. “What a good pet.” He praised. “Learning so quickly.” Sukuna placed the second cock at your entrance, slipping it in easily. He leaned forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your hip when you yelped. “Marked up, just for me.” He added. “My royal lap dog.”

You nodded eagerly as best you could, face squished down into the bedding. “Bark for me.” “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Humiliation didn’t have a spot in your fucked out blank brain.

“Good girl.” He said through a dry laugh, continuing to pound into you from behind. “Do it again.” “Woof! Woof!”

“Like you mean it, brat.”

You scaled up the pitch a little, bringing your ass back to meet his thrusts. “Woof!”

He rewarded your good behavior by leaning back on his legs, using all four hands to grip you firmly, rabbiting into your tight hole from behind at nearly and inhuman speed. Your front remained flopped forward, mouth open, drooling pooling against your cheek as a fourth orgasm was ripped from you. “That’s it. That’s my good pet, taking all I have to give you.” He grunted one last time before you felt the telltale twitch of the second cock told you he was close. It throbbed inside of you again, pumping more of his seed into your spent hole. He smacked your ass lightly. “What do we say?” “Th-thank you.” You replied dumbly, leg muscles twitching as your lower half slid off of his softening cock and down onto the bed. Your eyes were too heavy now to keep open even as you fought the impending feeling of sleep pulling you down. He said something else, but you didn’t catch what it was, slightly jostled awake by the feeling of being moved.

He’d laid you flat onto him, two arms holding you in place while a third gently stroked your hair and back. The warmth of his chest and the heavy heart beating sound were what did you in, finally letting that happy sinking feeling take over. No thoughts of anything, not even your slain friends as you curled up on him, out like a light.

#Ryomen Sukuna #Ryomen Sukuna x Reader #Sukuna #Sukuna x Reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #Jujutsu Kaisen x Reader #Sukuna x You #Sukuna x Y/N #Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfiction #Fanfic #Oneshot #x reader #Reader Insert #Sukuna jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader

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minhosimthings · 2 months

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A La Folie ft. Jay || Part 2

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive at the end, SMUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER MY BABIES, mentions of food, mentions of abuse, reader has scars, mention of blood and violence, hurt/comfort, reader has a panic attack, Heeseung suffering a shit ton lmao I'm sorry hee

A/N: I am legit so sorry for the long wait my babies I wanted to make this as perfect as possible! Thank you for the notes on the first part YAY!!! And the next chapter has smut hehe 😏😏

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Memories are said to be core parts of a person's life, no matter good or bad.

The only memories you had were of blood, broken glass, and destroyed homes.

Laughter had always seemed so frightening to you, it reminded you terribly of your mother and father's drunken laughter, as they put the belt to their daughter, just because she was a daughter.

Laughter was no longer how your older brother used to comb your hair, how he used to engulf you in his arms everytime the house was filled with things that a seven year old shouldn't be hearing.

Laughter and love, no longer seemed to exist, as you looked down on the bruises on your skin, and wondered when the last time someone had noticed it under all your setting powder was.

Oh right.

Just over an hour ago by the goddamn king of the place you lived in. The possibility of something going wrong was approximately zero, and yet your powder just had to melt off.

Now you were slumped against your bed, almost about to tear your hair out at how much you were regretting even signing up for an apprentice's position in the palace. At the time, when you were fifteen, it seemed the only possible solution, to get away from your home.

To get away from Jooyeon, atleast.

Knock knock knock.

You let out a loud groan at the sound of tapping on the door. Who on earth was calling for you now?

Checking the clock on the wall, you seethed. Begrudgingly getting up, you dragged yourself to the door, and opened it only to find-

"Your Highness!" You gasped, quickly bending into a curtsey at the light footed man standing before you, "Um..am I of any requirance?"

Heeseung chuckled, and pressed his hand to his chest, returning the respect but bowing to you and sweeping away a stray hair from his forehead.

"Jay just sent me over to you to find out if you were alright, Miss Y/N." He said, with the air of a holy messenger, "You seemed to have rushed out the door on his saying something. Did he offend you perhaps?"

"Oh." You breathed a sigh of relief, not realising your facial expression until you saw Heeseung's amused face looking at you, "Oh no! No absolutely not! No, it's um—its really my fault, sort of. Um—is-is he quite mad?"

Heeseung mused over the question for a bit, quietly laughing to himself at how flustered you were.

"Well I wouldn't say mad." Heeseung finally answered after what seemed like an eternity, "But I would say extremely confused and possibly bleeding out his bandages again."

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath, hoping Heeseung didn't hear what you said, "I'll see it to the matter straight away, Your Highness."

"Oh please, Miss Y/N, call me Heeseung." He winked flirtatiously at you, to which you wanted to slightly gag.

"Is it a custom for all Paradoxica kings to allow their nurses to call them by their names?" You chuckled, remembering how Jay so magnificently told you to call him by his name.

"Maybe just for the handsome ones." Heeseung jested, throwing you another wink, which you tried hard not to frown at.

As Heeseung's footsteps faded away, you turned to the door in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you strode forward and slowly opened the door, having the scent of musk hit your nostrils with a bang again, as your eyes fell upon Jay, sitting calmly against the bedframe with his bandages drenched in red.

"May I come in, Your Majesty?" You forced the sentence out, not daring to meet Jay's eyes. You heard a slight hum of approval, to which you sighed a breath of relief and strode in, immediately going to the tiny table you had set up in the corner of the room and getting your supplies to change Jay's bandages, not noticing how Jay's eyes were following your every movement.

Silence filled the room for many minutes as you went on with your routine of pressing the ointment against his wounds and wrapping them up in clean linen. You hadn't dared to lift your lids up to Jay, all the while you were touching his stomach.

"Who did that to you?"

The air stilled drastically, at Jay's cold question, which he offered in a bittersweet voice, and you knew he could see how you visibly froze, from the hair on top of your head down to your little toe finger.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty?" You said, pretending not to hear the question and quickly wrapping up your tools. But Jay was quicker.

"I said—" he leaned forward, to your figure sitting on the stool and he whispered dangerously in your ear,

"Who gave you that mark on your shoulder?"

Jay's suspicions proved true at your flinch at his tone. Leaning back to look at your face, he saw nothing but pure fear and a few tears. His thoughts immediately started to run wild.

"Forgive me." He sighed, "That was too far."

"It was." The words ran out before you could stop them, and a bit harsher than you had wanted.

"May I be please be excused?" You asked him, trying hard to ignore the pit in your stomach and the urge to throw yourself onto a bed and sob.

That night, you tried everything to fall asleep. Empty packets of chamomile were all strewn over the floor, the heavy scent of lavender candles floated in the air, and yet nothing was knocking you out.

Sleep came very late into the darkness and sleep came disturbed. You had no idea how many times your eyes cracked open and stared at the ceiling above because the nightmare just seemed too damn real to be a figment of your imagination. You wondered how it would have been like if you had stayed with Jay all night in his chambers, you had heard that Mrs.Chun often stayed with him when he was injured.

Secrets and secrets never to be untold, you started to write in your diary again, to kill your time, and hopefully drowse off as soon as your poem was completed.

Little did you know, a certain king was doing the same thing next door.

"So let me get this straight-" Sunghoon ran his fingers through his hair, "You have a very attractive woman your age tending to you, almost touching your abs, talking to you like you want to be talked to, smells like lavender, and an apparently suspicious bruise on her shoulder and you want to find out where that thing came from but she won't tell you?"

"Well when you say it that way." Jay glared at his fellow king, "And anyways I'm pretty sure she's upset with me right now, she practically ran out on me yesterday."

Sunghoon snickered and ran a hand through his hair again. "How are you holding up? With the injury and all?"

"It's much better than Y/N expects me to rest for." Jay scoffed, "Have you seen her out of her chambers when you were coming here?"

"I think she's in the infirmary." Sunghoon scratched his head, "One of the maids told me that she was busy."

If you were in the infirmary, the infirmary was where Jay would go. With a heavy breath, he lunged himself off of the bed and onto his feet, to the concerned brow raise of Sunghoon.

"Alright you should return to your palace now, doesn't the kingdom need you and all?"

"I don't think so." Sunghoon threaded his fingers into his locks, "It's a bright sunny day, Jongsoeng brighten up a bit!"

"If you touch your hair one more time Park Sunghoon, I will brighten up your funeral."

The infirmary was a place of healing. For both physical and mental wounds. For most of your teenage years, Mrs Chun had set about trying heal the latter, by immersing you into the art of healing others. It had been fascinating, you thought, the quiet of the stone walls and the cold air brushing against your skin with kisses you preferred. It made you forget your home.

So it wasn't a surprise that this was the place you came to early in the morning when the king had ordered your presence. You were currently working on a nightmare potion for yourself, trying to mix in some additionalities to make you dream about something else.

Your carefully measured out drops of cranberry juice caught your attention as the vibration from the sound of heavy steps coming from outside made it quiver ever so slightly.

Sighing to yourself when you heard the door knob's knock, you abandoned your chemicals and went towards the door, thankful for your infirmary outfit of trousers because they didn't drag behind you. Why couldn't you have worn this when you were tending to-

"Your Majesty!" You all but screamed, quickly bowing to the man in front of you, "uh....hi." you added awkwardly at the end.

"Hi." Jay replied back, "And I told you not to call me that. Just call me Jay it's fine."

"You're the goddamn king, I can't just call you by your first name." You retorted as Jay walked in and dropped into the chair by the table where your nightmare potion lay, "Do you need anything?"

"Entertainment." Jay replied promptly, curiously poking at some herbs, "Why don't you wear that often?"

"Pardon?" You said before looking down and realising what you were wearing. You quickly grabbed a blanket and covered your lower portion, "That wasn't meant for anyone's eyes."

"You look good." Jay winked, nibbling on the cilantro you had saved for the potion, "Is that a nightmare potion?"

"Mrs Chun told me you were horrible at potions." You laughed, letting do of the blanket and striding over to Jay, plopping down on the chair opposite to him, "Kudos to recognising the potion."

"She's exaggerating, you know how old women are these days."

"How old do you suspect I am?" You asked, curious as to the king's opinions on women's ages. Jay thought for a moment before speaking.

"Depends." He leaned forward and smiled, "How old do you think I am?"

"45." You answered with an air of pride to your voice, to which Jay gasped dramatically and put a hand to his chest.

"You wound me Y/N." He chuckled, "Healers are supposed to heal aren't they?"

"Well depending on how you take your tea with a jar full of honey, you're certainly an old man." You were uncontrollably laughing now, "We're the same age, 22."

There was a moment of silence, in which you silently took the potion away from his radius and into your hands, your eyes widening dangerously at the bubbling liquid.

"Damn it!" You said, wincing at the hot touch. You looked around frantically for something, anything, which could calm the potion down, while Jay looked on, confused at your doings. Nevertheless, he got up and started to look for whatever you wanted.

"What are we looking for?" Jay asked as you ripped open the cupboards, the potion was bubbling aggressively by now.

"Something that can calm the potion down!" You cried, trying to get your mind to think, something to neutralize liquid, "like a lemon, alkali something."

Jay knew nightmare potion was dangerous when it wasn't neutralized, poisoning the skin of those whose grasp it reached. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Mrs Chun had taught him.

"Oh how about that baking soda there!" Jay pointed, wincing slightly as he felt pressure against his wounds but he tried not to show it, "It's alkali is it not?"

You had no time to respond as you grabbed thd baking soda at the speed of lightning and poured it all into the potion. The aggravated liquid seemed to calm down, as the bubbles slowly faded away and the colour changes from green to its normal azure.

"Thank the fucking heavens." You sighed, plopping down on the table much to Jay's amusement, "Thank you, Jay."

"I don't think Mrs Chun would like the state of this room right now." Jay motioned to the floor, where powders and cupboards lay ripped open from your frantic try to find an alkali. He was right of course, Mrs Chun would have killed you. The baking soda was also finished.

"Ah damn." You said, not realising the amount of times you swore in front of the kind today, you had to go out and get new ones now. You started to pick up the bigger jars which were thankfully not broken and arrange them back, not noticing Jay doing the same thing behind you. When you did notice however you were horrified.

"Your Majesty sit down!" You commanded, forcing Jay down onto the chair, "You'll worsen the injury."

"But I want to help." Jay visibly pouted, adorable, you thought, "Please?"

"Absolutely not." You responded, five minutes away from tying him to the chair, "If you're that bored, we can talk, but under no circumstance am I allowing you to bend and work."

Jay considered his options and came to the conclusion that talking was the better option. He wanted to find out more about your mysterious ways of enchanting him so well, about that scar too....

"Shall I start then?" Jay asked, as you nodded and started on the mess again, "Favourite food?"

"That's the best question you could think of?" You scoffed playfully, nevertheless smiling at him, "Apricots. Alright my turn. Hm..allergies?"

"Peaches, which is a pity because I love peaches. Hobbies?"

"Most of the time, reading, but I like experimenting here in the infirmary." You said. You liked this conversation, it was peaceful, bouncing back on each other with questions of all kinds. There was laughter, teasing and perhaps the most happiness you had felt in a lot of time.

"Birds can take over the world, you can fight me on that."

"If I fought you over it, I'd probably lose." Jay laughed, holding his stomach from the amount of bird jokes you both had made in the past fifteen minutes.

"So any siblings?"

Jay's question made you freeze again into that familiar pose Jay had grown to hate now. He wondered whether it was something related to your family that you were making the nightmare potion for.

"I'm sorry, you clearly aren't comfortable with discussing it I won't bring it up agai-"

"No it's alright." You sighed, letting out a breath that felt like it had been caged forever somewhere, "I-Well I don't speak with my family anymore they weren't exactly the loving type, a-and I ran away when I was 14."

14. That was the age when Jay lost everything.

"Well I guess we have a lot in common then." Jay sent you a comforting smile. God he had a gorgeous smile, you wished you could see it on his face at all times of the day.

"That would be a horrible similarly wouldn't it?" You forced a kindred smile. Jay nodded at your statement, and picked up the cilantro again, bringing the smaller leaves to his mouth to chew.

"Well I'll leave you to your work." Jay slumped off of his chair, the pain in his bandages had decreased now, "Good day Y/N."

"Good day Your- I mean Jay."

Jay had no idea how he managed to reach his chambers, his feet managed to trace the path back, all that was on his mind was how much if a mystery you still were.

That night, he opened the glass case in his room for the first time in seven years, taking out the ruby dagger and admiring how much it felt like your touch.

"Hyung are you serious?" Jay's fingers massaged his temple, as Heeseung smirked.

Both of them were sitting outside, in the warm afternoon Sun after you had allowed Jay to go outside on making sure his bandages were healed. It had been a few days since the infirmary incident, and Jay had constantly sneaked up so many times and messed with your potions that you had to threaten to rip apart the infirmary and blame it on him when Mrs Chun returned. Jay had heard worse threats in his life, but never before had he actually listened to them than now.

Plus it was the only thing that could allow him to see you in your shirt and trousers fit which he adores so much, even if you glared at him while he made suggestions for a potion while sitting next to you. Granted, he had been useful sometimes, particularly the time, he carefully bandaged your hand when you got a nasty burn from some dragon scales.

Unbeknownst to him, you though he looked adorable, with his tongue stuck out in pure concentration, as he carefully pressed his fingers across yours. It bought a blush to your face.

"It's the only favour I ask of you Jay" Heeseung tried to put on his best boba eye impression, to manipulate Jay into asking you out on a date. To Heeseung's wedding.

"Why can't you ask?" Jay sighed, talking a sip of his lemonade.

"Because Y/N isn't making my heart beat at the pace of a cheetah, she's making yours." Heeseung smirked, "Wait isn't that her?"

Jay's head whipped around to look behind him, making a crack sound as it went. His eyes landed on someone in the distance, wearing an olive dress and a straw hat, carrying a wickerwork basket, possibly to pick some on the daffodils growing in the garden. Royal healers were always allowed to pick herbs in the garden, so that's what you were probably doing.

God you looked beautiful, Jay thought. It reminded him of earlier, happier days, of days when laughter echoed high through the walls and flowers bloomed. Especially lavender. Lavender, like his mother....

"Jay, you're staring." Heeseung coughed loudly, snapping Jay out of his euphoria.

In the distance, you were willing away your time by plucking out tiny bristles of daffodils, they would do you good in makin the nightmare potions again. It wad a pleasant day today and you hadn't expected Jay to come out, but there he was, sitting alongside Heeseung in a loose white shirt, open slightly at neck. You hoped fervently that there weren't any mind readers present at the scene, lest they read all your extremely unholy thoughts.

The last few days, were fun, happy even. You liked Jay making conversation with you at the infirmary. Sure he annoyed you sometimes, but you didn't think you had laughed this much in ages now. It felt like home, true home, which you hadn't ever known the feeling of.

The sound of loud coughing made you flinch as you turned around to see both the royals snap their heads into the distance from staring at you. Giggling to yourself, you began to walk towards them, basket full of daffodils in hand.

"Fuck she's coming here." Jay whispered, pretending to look busy in fishing the cilantro pieces out from his glass.

"And I thought I was the lovesick one." Heeseung rolled his eyes, quickly putting on his brightest smile, as he saw you approaching.

"Miss Y/N!" Heeseung bowed to you, trying to sound like he wasn't about to possibly ruin Jay's love life, "Are you doing well?"

"Perfect, Your Highness." You curtsied, noticing Jay still hiding his face, "Congratulations on the betrothal, Your Highness, or should I call you Heeseung?"

"You remember?" He shot you a cheeky smile, sitting down on his chair agin, as you sat down on the one a servant brought you, "Well I assume you are coming to the ball? I would be devastated if my darling Queen didn't meet you."

You chuckled and quietly shook your head. "I don't believe I was invited. Plus, i have no family or friend to go with."

"Oh what a coincidence! Jay doesn't either!" Heeseung said, in a fake cheery voice, as Jay groaned silently to himself and fervently wished to disappear from this moment. This was by far the weakest he had ever felt in all his life.

"Oh...um... That's sad?" You were uncertain on what to say. Heeseung took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he had to play Cupid properly.

"Yes it's so sad, don't you think it would so nice if you two went together?"

Perhaps the most frightening thing the birds heard that day was the sound of Jay's cough at Heeseung's sentence.

"Jay! Oh my god-" you panicked, bit Heeseung merely rolled his eyes and harshly patted Jay's back.

"Calm down idiot." Heeseung grumbled, and then turned back to you with a bright smile on his face, "Anyways, as we were saying, how about it Miss Y/N?"

"Well, for starters-" you said, with the air of a true healer, "I have to go out to town and get some supplies, the infirmary is nearly out. And secondly, it is a royal ball. I don't believe I have anything royal to wear."

"Oh pity, I think Jay knows a really good seamstress in town don't you Jay?" Heeseung smirked at a red eared Jay who was doing everything in his power to appear not flustered, "Plus weren't you going to go on your undercover rounds tomorrow Jay? Oh that's perfect! You and Y/N can go get the supplies in town, and get some measurements for her dress and voila! A perfect date to my wedding!"

That night, both you and Jay went to sleep peacefully, without scented candles or chamomile teas.

That night, a healer and a king couldn't wait for tomorrow's gift.

(And Heeseung slept, giggling next to his annoyed but loving wife)

"You look rather dashing." You giggled, clutching a basket tightly in your hand, and leaning against the door, admiring the figure of the man in front of you. Jay was clad in simple clothes today, a workman's attire. And he still looked more handsome that the devil himself.

"Oh shut up." Jay rolled his eyes, "You definetly look prettier."

"Where did you learn to impress a lady like that hmm?" You questioned, as Jay tried everything to adjust his collar and failed, "That's not how you press the fabric down idiot."

"First of all-" Jay glared playfully at you, "I didn't learn it just comes to me naturally" you scoffed at that, "Second of all you just called the king of tis kingdom an idiot. And third of all-" his eyes went round like the ones he used when he wanted something, "Can you adjust this collar please?"

"Idiot." You laughed, putting your basket down and walking over to him, your hands going up towards his unruly collar, "My idiot, unfortunately."

"Since when do healers get to own people?" Jay jested, feeling his entire world freeze at the soft touch of your hands. God you smelled like lavender and love.

Love? That four lettered word? Please, Jay mentally scoffed, it didn't exist.

But as Jay watched you, felt your fingers touching his neck, and your waist pressing against his, as you carefully adjusted the collar, in that very moment, he saw the most beautiful aspects of his life, and he knew he was helplessly in love. He craved your touch, your presence, your eyes stuck to his, anything with you. Was this the love his mother always spoke of?

"And I'm done!" You breathed a sigh of relief, the collar was hard to pull down, and you were relieved when it finally flattened. What you weren't expecting however, was Jay staring at you with widened eyes when you looked up from his neck.

"Um...Jay?" You said, waving your hand in front of him, "Earth to The great King Park Jongsoeng."

Your voice seemed to break Jay out of his temporary trance, as he quickly blinked his eyes and popped his lips together. "We should go." He said, much to your relief.

"Hey wait a second." You stopped him from exiting. Your fingers went up to his hair and quickly ruffled it, making it look messy and unruly

"There." You presented proudly, "now you look like a true town person."

Something in Jay told him that this day would go in a second as all good days went.

Jay had never before gone on his monthly undercover trip to the town, accompanied by anyone else. He feared it would blow his cover to the people. The trip always benefited him, he would get some delicious food, a day without guards, a day with peace, and a free survey of the citizens' wellbeing.

Today was different. He had no interest in looking at the wellbeing of the people, nor on the food. All he cared about was you.

You, with your head held high, easily chatting up the store owners, bargaining for the price of powdered dragon scales and smiling wide at the tiny child who had run up to you and have you a tiny sunflower blossom.

His heart was weak, fragile around you, it contained lovesick blood which he hadn't ever held before. Your hearty laughter, your hair moving in harmony with you and the contagious joy you spread to the people in the bustling market, it made Jay's knees buckle.

"Jongsoeng come on!" You cried, walking perhaps fifteen steps ahead of Jay. He had to jog to keep up. You were calling him by his actual name, since most people outside of royalty didn't know his real name.

"Did you get everything?" Jay panted, peering into your full basket. You nodded.

"Yep! I even got the cilantro you like chewing so much like a cow." You giggled, holding up a few leaves to his mouth, "Say ahh" you teased him as if you were feeding a child.

"Ahhh" Jay opened up his mouth and pushed the cilantro into his mouth, much to your surprise. You flinched slightly at his cold touch.

"Delicious." Jay smacked his lips together dramatically, "Anyways shall we get going?"

"Please don't tell me we're going to some shoe shop, I detest the smell of leather." You groaned, earning a look from Jay.

"That is by far the weirdest thing I've ever heard." Jay chuckled, "And we're going to the best seamstress of this kingdom darling, so keep your socks on."

Your heart fluttered uncontrollably at his nickname.

"Ah my King. Welcome!" A well dressed woman, with her hair tied into a fishtail greeted Jay and you. You assumed she was the Chaeryoung from "Chaeryoung's Seams", signboard outside which indicated her grand castle of a shop. This, according to Jay, was where all the aristocrats obtained their clothes.

"Chaeryoung, I assume you are well?" Jay pressed a kiss to her hand, a custom for most unmarried men, but delivering a pang of jealousy to your heart.

"I do not care about my wellbeing right now, Your Majesty. All I care about-" she shifted her pretty, cat-like eyes to you, "-is this beauty standing before me."

You felt your cheeks heat up at Chaeryoung's complement. You? A beauty? Impossible it seemed, especially next to a pretty woman like Chaeryoung.

"I am Y/N." You curtsied, "You are quite gorgeous yourself, Miss Chaeryoung."

Chaeryoung let out a giggle and blushed red in her ears, turning to Jay. "You found someone quite like yourself, Your Majesty."

"Oh please." You scoffed playfully, "I am much more handsome than him, don't you think?"

To Jay, that was more of a complement than an insult, especially when it came from your mouth.

You stayed in Chaeryoung's shop until the sky darkened. She wouldn't let you go until you tried on every combination she asked you to.

Jay was quite useful in this, you thought, giving Chaeryoung recommendations on necklines and earings and whatnot.

A memory which stayed particularly on your mind, was when you stepped out in a beautiful dress, which hugged your body perfectly, with a neckline that could send any man to heaven if he looked at it.

Any man meant Jay too, who thought he would combust if he saw you on any more dresses. He swore he could have seen pixies sparkling their magic dust over you.

"How does this look?" You stood in front of Jay with a big smile on your face.

"Spin for me." Jay said, standing up, to assess the dress more properly, as you spun, the fabric seemingly obeying your every command and spinning with you like a Scottish Fold's tail. Could you get any prettier?

"I swear to god if you don't get this dress, I will open my bandages." Jay said dramatically, much to Chaeryoung's pleasure who nodded and rushed out of the room, to get your measurements.

"Do I look good?" You asked again, a bit uncertainly this time.

"Good?" Jay scoffed, "You look like the prettiest person on earth."

"You sure know how to make a girl blush, are you sure you haven't had practice?" You giggled, spinning one more time in the dress to admire yourself. You loved the way the fabric felt against your skin, it hugged it in a way that all your scars didn't hurt too much. A perfect dress, you thought.

Perfect. Until you looked down at your collarbone.

Fate has its ways, dear reader. And it has many ways for misfortune.

"Oh no-no no no." You swore under your breath. Well that is, if you were even breathing. You were panicking, and panic attacks weren't exactly cotton candy flavoured for you. You could feel your throat tighten up and your peripheral vision blend out.

You felt cold all around, you felt the harsh words of little girls and the screams of your parents. You felt Jooyeon too....

"Hey hey Y/N, calm down." You could hear Jay's voice faintly behind you, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on anything.

Jay was worried, extremely worried. He hadn't ever seen you panic like this before. Sure you had a few stressful mishaps in the infirmary, but this? Never before. Jay was confused as to why you were currently supporting your entire weight on him but he took one look down at your collarbone and he knew.

"Y/N, darling, I need you to breathe for me." Jay whispered in your ear, unsure of what to do. His hands trailed down to your waist, while one supported your shoulder.

"Shh, I'm right here, I'm right here calm down." Jay coached you, tracing shapes along your neck, which worked effectively.

"I-" you kept your sob in your throat, "I need something to c-cover..."

You felt a warm sort of cloth wrap around your shouder, Jay's jacket.

"Calm down now." Jay whispered again, hearing faint footsteps in the distance, "I'll distract Chaeryoung, you run."

"Your bandages aren't bleeding much, I think they're healed.." You clicked your tongue, pressing against Jay's wounds.

"You sound worried though, darling." Jay said, his eyes never leaving you even as you got up and settled your supplies down.

"You know I won't ever stop worrying about you." You chuckled, sitting opposite him on the bed, with two cups of chamomile. Drinking tea with Jay at night seemed to relax your nerves.

"So..."

"So?"

"Would you like to talk about what happened?"

You bit your lip at his question, savouring the taste of the chamomile for a while.

"Would you really like to know?" You sighed, putting your tea down, "You've been curious over it for a lot of days."

"I would like to know whether you want Jooyeon killed or tortured." Jay calmly sipped his tea.

Jooyeon.

How did he know?!

"How-" you raised your eyes to him, "Do you know about Jooyeon?"

"I'm a King, darling." Jay chuckled, his eyes seemed more dangerous than ever, "I know everything."

"If you knew everything, then why did you ask me?" You said, your tone laced with venom.

Jay's eyes softened. "I know who he is but I don't know what he did to you, darling." He toyed with his empty cup, "and I wanted to know why you hide that scar."

"Because it's ugly!" You cried out, slamming your teacup onto the table next to you, you were surprised it didn't break, "Because everyone I've ever met in my life recoils from it whenever they see it and for some fucking reason you didn't and it's just so weird!"

The air stilled again in that familiar manner, and flashes of memories came into Jay's mind.

'Mum why do you hide your shoulder?'

'its not as beautiful as the rest of me, Jay. Why do you ask?'

'You're still pretty to me mum!'

Your memories on the other hand, were entirely different.

The sound of glass....

The smell of blood....

Jooyeon's grip on your thigh.....

"Y/N, love-"

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have-"

Jay's hand buried you into his chest, as your sob ripped through the air like a siren. He could feel his shirt become damp but he didn't give a single damn. All he cared about was how you were practically shaking apart in his arms.

Your shattered words of 'Im sorry!' broke his heart into tatters and he felt like he was 13 again, listening to his mother son and him not being able to do anything.

Except this time, he could.

In the quiet moments of vulnerability, you shared your fear with him, trusting him with your deepest secrets. And as Jay held you in his arms, he realized that he had become your safe haven, and his love for you blossomed in that tender embrace.

"Y/N, love, look at me?" Jay tilted your head up to him, grabbing your chin with his finger. Your tear stained eyes looked up at him with nothing but calm trust. You did trust him. And love him too.

As your eyes met, a sense of familiarity washed over you. It was as if your souls had known each other in a different time and place. In that profound connection, you realized that the fates had pulled their strings again love unfurled within you.

"I-I want to-"

"Do it."

That's all Jay needed, for him to crash into you and create a magnificent firework display, maybe only he could see all the sparkles and colours. Jay could taste sweet moonlight and honey on your lips. Blood rushed to his heart, which pumped it ever so fastly, it was about to explode out of his chest.

He craved this, he craved it as a battlefield craved blood or as a nightmare potion craved alkali. Ribbons of love and hope rushed out of his neck, where your arms wrapped, sinking into him, with pure trust and love.

Was this the love the poets spoke of?

Maybe not, Jay thought, but he didn't care anymore. This was the love he now wanted, he never wanted to let go of it.

Perhaps he never would.

Silence fell like darkness, as you pulled away slowly, still keeping your eyes close for a second. You couldn't believe what on earth had just happened. Jay couldn't either.

“That felt like a crime against humanity.” you broke the silence, with your serious statement.

The seriousness didn't last long, when Jay looked into your eyes, you looked into his, and the both of you burst out laughing.

"Was that your first kiss?" Jay teased, his fingers were threading through your hair, relaxing you.

"Yours too?" You retorted.

Amidst the moonlight, no one would have suspected that a healer and a king would be laughing raucously, looking at each other with nothing but love, something they never experienced before.

“I mean, I could do with some more of that.” you said shyly, feeling a blush creep up to your face.

"Why don't we then, darling?"

Next chapter coming soon!

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436 + send an ask to be tagged!

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mamayan · 4 months

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👉👈👀 feisty unwilling darling being tamed by gentle force of their yandere... I'm starving, Yanny 😭 please, I beg you- feed me with a KNY man!

(don't have to but you made me thirsty now)

Chef Yan prepares the dish—

Yandere Kyojuro Rengoku x GN! Darling!

★Patience★

Trigger Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Yandere Themes • Implied Kidnapping • Implied Imprisonment • Isolation/denial of interaction • Manipulation • Psychological breakdown

He’s a patient man despite what the young slayers who assist him on missions or the kakushi who follow behind might assume.

He’s patient with the civilians he saves, letting them ramble out their gratitude and whimper their fears. He’s patient with his younger brother, never rushing his training or pushing when he shouldn’t. He’s patient with you the most though.

It requires a certain level of patience to come home to your screeching. The curses and hissed insults tossed his way, the way your eyes burn with hatred and lips spit vitriol. He’s patient even when you devolve into something less than human, an animal fighting in its enclosure, unable to come to terms with its capture. Clawing at his flesh when he tries to feed you, knocking down bowls and plates until they clatter on the tatami mats. Your squeals and battle cries as you head-butt him and snarl your victory when blood trickles down his face, staining the new yukata he’d gifted you for the spring season you wouldn’t get to see.

He’s a patient man until he isn’t. He’s no without temper himself, and while he’d found the fight amusing and even adorable in the beginning, he sees it’s not dying like he presumed it would. You’re like a flame, finding anything and making it your kindling, burning all within your path as you ignite even simply looking at him. Fires can’t burn without fuel though, and while it makes his teeth ache as he clenches them in concentration, he manages to avoid seeing you that day.

You went without food or even a glimpse of blonde after a particularly foul tantrum. You’d screamed that death would be better than this hell, but Kyojuro truly felt annoyance at the statement. How was a beautiful home he’d had built entirely for you a living hell? The food he does his best to make, though admittedly you eat professionally prepared meals more often than not, that was hell too? Was his presence so disgusting you must scrunch your lovely features up when he appears?

He’s patient, even when all he wants to do is comfort and hold you when he hears your angry cries the first and second night, staying away and only delivering the necessary food for your survival. Bread and water. Sometimes a watered down vegetable soup. You’d begun destroying dishes less, screams dying down in favor of saving energy as he watches you curl more into yourself each night. He’s heart broken by the sight of your flames dying, something he feels guilty for doing, but what else could he do? Let you go? You could be killed, eaten by a demon, harassed or assaulted, any number of true hells that he could think of. He couldn’t let you get hurt, but starving you of contact, comfort, and affection would only help you appreciate what he does provide.

It lasts longer than he hoped for. Months pass and each time he checks in, curious of your reaction each time, he’s left crushed by your boiling rage and renewal of hatred. You have so much bite to each word, unafraid of anything as you stand up to him like a slayer of equal standing and strength. He’s impressed as much as he is disappointed. How beautiful you look is always what stuns him. Like a warrior prepared to die in battle your eyes shine, even as the bags beneath them grow. How patient can you be? Will he outlast you?

He begins to worry you might win. That he’ll break first and you’d return to the way it was in the beginning. Him spoiling you and you hating every second.

Until a storm hits while he’s away on mission. Senjuro helping ensure you’re fed and safe from a distance as instructed by his brother. It leaves the area a bit flooded, the lighting shaking the structures of homes as the wind howls with vengeance.

Kyojuro returns with apprehension, anxious to see you safe and sound but dreading the look of disgust in your eyes he’s sure he’ll find.

Only to find himself weighed down the moment he enters. Your body shaking and clutching onto his uniform for dear life, eyes looking up at him with tears and he’s shocked to his core to see desperation and a plea in your depths. The way your face melts into a pout as you senselessly beg and apologize as if your life truly depends on it, begging him not to leave you again, pleading for mercy as you tug on his clothing. He catches you with strong arms when you collapse, holding you to his chest while you scramble to sink deeper into the embrace.

He’s too stunned to do much else but shush and coo at you, trying to calm you down as you wiggle and attempt to crawl into his skin instead of claw it off like usual.

“Little flame, I’ve got you, hey, look at me.” He’s forced to sit on the floor and to bring you into his lap, his hands free to cup your cheeks and turn your face up to meet his steady and calm gaze. “I won’t let anything hurt you, I’ll stay as long as you like, okay?”

You’re calm enough to hear him, sniffling and nodding your head as you melt in his hands like he’s never seen before.

“As long as I’m around, nothing bad will happen.” He’s not ashamed to whisper in your ear, adoring the shiver of fear which wracks your poor body. He’s holding you tight, not giving you an inch even as you realize slowly the price of his kindness.

He certainly loves everything about you, from the fire which blazes inside you to the little breathy whimpers you make in the night, but he loves you most when you don’t fight him so hard all the time.

Of course, he’s always happy to remind you why you shouldn’t test his patience.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #yan answers #kyojuro rengoku #Kyojuro rengoku x reader #yandere kyojuro rengoku #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer

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typingfool · 11 months

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𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ;; nikolai lantsov

pairing ; Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Reader platonic / mentions ; tamar yul-bataar, tolya yul-bataar

outline —; Nikolai isn’t the only royal member in the Sturmhond Crew.

WARNINGS —: none.

Word Count —; 621

A/N —; just wanted to write something again, i've been stuck in a writer's rut. NOT BOOK ACCURATE. THIS IS BASED ON THE SHOW; SHADOW AND BONE. so sorry if it's short, i'll expand on this later. for now, enjoy !!

“You’re whom?”

His tired question echoes, voice bouncing across the room, making Nikolai slightly bite his inner cheek. He shook his head, blonde hair messily falling over the edge of his brows. You sat with your back against the headboard, the weight of your knees covering your chest. He carefully repeated his question; “Who are you?”

You lay your cheek against your knee, a familiar smile broadly appearing across your face. A sleepy expression carried your next words, as though you weren’t thinking about what you were saying. “Secondborn Princess of Novyi Zem.” You replied with a yawn.

Nikolai sat on the edge of the bed, the fabric of the tunic fit his body perfectly, and you forced yourself not to stare. Peaking your gaze towards your clothes. He scoffed, his hand extending to your face. His fingers found their way to your chin, forcing you to look at him. With amusement evident in his voice, he said; “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your fingers curled around his wrist, pulling it away, the absence of his touch lingered across the skin of your chin. Rolling your eyes, your head fell back against the bed’s headboard. “Sure, of course, I would tell you, Prince Nikolai.” You teased, shaking your head, arms wrapping around your legs. “You didn’t think you were the only royal one on board, did you?”

Nikolai plopped himself on the bed, with his palm on his forehead, scoffing.

No wonder you were so enticing. So polite and kind. Your posture told your status, you held your head high, shoulders on-alert, hands crossed or over each other (because, who would hold your hands if it grew cold?). Your choices were impulsive, for sure, but that was only due to the fact that the luxury of choice isn’t a right to a Princess, especially a Secondborn. The attention is with the Firstborn, the first light, the first star, the responsible, the role model.

How could Nikolai miss all those traits? The traits that made him love you deeply. In secret. With the doors locked, he would hold his aching heart, wishing that Sturmhond is his real name.

Then again, you adopted an alias. One that felt so uneasy leaving his tongue. He felt the need to say your real name, if you so kindly give him the permission to. “What is your name?” Nikolai asked, peeking down on your tired figure.

You left your spot and settled beside him, elbows touching. You said your name without looking at him, carrying the bitterness of your title alongside your identity.

“Princess…” He started slowly, maybe sleepily. His whispery voice stopped, before he turned to face you. Your gaze was still fixed on the ceiling, ignoring the Prince’s tracing eyes over your profile. “No,” He stopped, then said your name.

The weight of your responsibilities came tumbling down. And Saints didn’t matter to you anymore, the ongoing war of Ravka, destroying the Fold, Kirigan’s return… nothing mattered. Nothing. Your name never sounded so common, yet so rare. Your parents named you after a Queen, and as the saying goes, ‘Name her after a Queen and expect her to act like one.’

For a moment, you were so thankful that you were in a foreign land. One that didn’t recognize your name in its meaning. Thankful for your impulsive and rash decision that one midnight. The one night you fled, met Tamar and Tolya, and joined Sturmhond’s Crew.

The one night that changed your view in a world so cruel. That, perhaps, a stranger’s name could belong to you. But he proved you wrong. Your name belongs to you.

“Out there, Princess” Nikolai pointed to the walls, eyes closed. “In here, No titles,” Nikolai smiled.

♡ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

#'ziah writes 🕯#nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x yn #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #shadow and bone x reader #nikolai sturmhond x reader

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prodigal-if · 1 year

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Prodigal is an up-and-coming Murder Mystery IF that depicts a tale of deceit, latent pain, and a hidden past that could either heal or completely destroy.

The Reaper— it’s a name that’s haunted you for a little over two decades now. One of the most infamous serial killers of the 20th Century, in New York City. Killing over 25 people, most believing the final tally is much more, and not getting caught until one fateful day. When you were the reason behind his arrest.

The Reaper— the boogeyman made flesh.

The Reaper— the man that made New York City hold its breath until his arrest.

The Reaper— your father.

You’ve tried getting past it, fighting through the darkness that always seems to follow you, and for the last few years you’ve been fairly successful; working for the FBI giving you just the distraction you needed. Being one of their top profilers, as you found it easy to get into the mind of a killer, you even started to believe that your past would stop haunting you.

Until you were fired for misconduct and you found yourself back in New York City, back where it all happened. Will you finally be able to find peace? Especially when you begin to work with the Major Crimes Unit of the NYPD?

Or was the boogeyman just waiting all this time to finally strike?

Features

Customizable MC: name, nickname, some hobbies, appearance, sexuality, and gender. Other things will probably crop up as the story continues too.

Will you fight your demons or succumb to them?

Reconnect with your family after being away for so long. How much has changed? Will you be able to uncover things that are amiss?

Solve cases with the Major Crimes Unit, and solve a much deeper mystery that seems to always be lurking within the back of your mind.

Romance 1 of 4 potential options. Will they help you heal?

Don’t forget about the boogeyman…

LINK — Prospective release Late March/Early April

Ross/Rose Garner

Between Detective Bishop and Detective Garner, the latter is much more open to working with you than the former. With an open smile, that's only slightly tinged by weariness, they're willing to give you a chance and see where that takes them. Offering an olive branch, a helping hand, whenever you could use one. Will you be able to offer them something else in return?

Appearance: Detective Garner stands at a solid 5'10" with sharp blue eyes. Slightly curly, raven black hair complements their olive complexion, mixed with a light brown hue. They have a lithe body type.

Daniel/Danielle Bishop

Detective Bishop isn't as open to you joining the Major Crimes Unit as a Consultant-- not because of any inherent dislike of you, though that may be there somewhere, but for the simple reason of not being as trusting as their partner and boss. Will you be able to crack through their defenses? To the person that's willing to quip an amused one-liner, or crack open a cold beer and hang out? Or will they forever remain a mystery to you?

Appearance: Detective Bishop stands at around 6'2" with closed-off gray eyes. Brown hair, with bits of golden highlights strewn throughout, brings out the fair complexion of their skin. They have an athletic body from years as an athlete beforehand.

Ethan/Emily Yang

The mortician that helps the Major Crimes Unit with every case that comes their way. With an almost innocent quality about them, despite being surrounded by death on a daily basis, they couldn't help but be fascinated by you and your knowledge. Will you only ever share your scientific thoughts with them, and a joke or two, or will something else evolve as you continue to grow ever closer?

Appearance: Doctor Yang stands at a whopping height of 5'7" with intelligently kind brown eyes. Ebony black hairs brings out the porcelain hue of their skin. Along with the delicately slender quality of their body, Doctor Yang is surely a sight to behold.

Caleb/Carina Sinclair

Your old partner in the FBI-- a person that took their job seriously, but you never believed that they'd leave you behind too. Their walls of ice, of stoicism and vast professionalism, had always fallen away for you and only you. They never looked at you like you were something broken because of your past. Will you ever find out the reason they left you behind? Or is it a case, a mystery, you're just never meant to solve?

Appearance: Special Agent Sinclair stands at a striking 6'5" with piercing green eyes-- the likes you've never seen before. Wavy, blonde hair complements the lightly tanned quality of their skin. Their muscular build, from hours spent training, barely being hidden by the standard issued suit for a Federal Agent.

Special: Can choose to have had a romantic entanglement with them in the past (something like FWBs).

#prodigal #upcoming if #choice of games #hosted games #no demo #interactive fiction #interactive novel

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starrydixon · 11 months

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Reality Check

*Requested from this ask :)*

Era: Post-Whisperers Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: None-Specified Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: mild language, anxiety, intense and scary situation, brief mention of blood and injuries, comfort-fluff

Summary: When you experience a close call with a walker while on a supply run with Daryl, the archer tries his best to comfort you.

“Do you think we’ll find anything?” You asked in a hushed tone as you and Daryl approached the almost completely ransacked and scavenged neighborhood that was only a few miles away from Alexandria.

The suburban neighborhood, which looked almost exactly like the community you were currently occupied in, had been cleaned out by the old supply group of Alexandria long before you and the rest of your family had arrived. The place had practically become dormant up until now. With Alexandria now having to deal with the aftermath of The Whisperers, you and the rest of the community were desperate for supplies.

Although there was a rush of relief washing over you when The Whisperers had been defeated for once and for all, the aftermath of their stampede through Alexandria with their massive horde of walkers was distressing. It was a harrowing sight to see, once you returned. The safe haven you and the rest of the community had spent years building and growing was now completely destroyed and tainted. There was virtually nothing left, which meant you would have to start over…again.

“There’s gotta be at least somethin’ that was left behind.” Daryl grumbled as his alert eyes surveyed the surrounding area. The silence of the neighborhood was unsettling, and Daryl wasn’t going to take any chances with letting his guard down.

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you hummed in agreement. “I’d even take back a pack of rusty nails at this point.”

Letting out a slightly amused scoff, Daryl turned to look at you. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out.” You could feel a grin begin to stretch out across your face as Daryl averted his gaze from your face so he could survey the neighborhood again. With a nudge of his head, the archer motioned towards the closest house within your vicinity. “C’mon, let’s start here first.”

You weren’t sure what you were looking for exactly as you began to search through the abandoned houses. The possibility of finding a can of food was slim to zero, and you weren’t sure if a suburban neighborhood like this one would have any kind of survival materials; even before the apocalypse started. After going through the first few houses, you and Daryl had only managed to salvage a few items and some clothing for the children of Alexandria.

“What are we doing?” You exasperated through a tired sigh while leaning against the wall in the kitchen of the latest house you were searching. One of your hands rose to your face so you could pinch the bridge of your nose.

Daryl was busy pulling out different junk draws and stifling through them. Coming out empty handed, the archer shut the last drawer with an aggressive slam. Dark caramel bangs hung over his eyes as he leaned against the counter of the kitchen island. His back faced you, and you could see his head shaking ever so slightly. “I dunno.”

Pushing off the wall, you ventured towards Daryl and stood beside him. Your shoulder was pressed against his, and it sent a comforting warmth to spread throughout your body at the contact. Wordlessly, you both took a few moments to regroup. Your gaze fell out the window that was behind the sink. There wasn’t much to look at outside; it was a gloomy day with gray clouds covering every inch of the sky and blocking the sun from shining its light on you. In the corner, you noticed an overgrown plant tapping quietly against the dingy glass.

“Let’s look at one more—the big one on the corner—‘fore lookin’ somewhere else.” Daryl finalized as his eyes caught onto the rustling plant in the window.

“Alright—“ With another sigh escaping past your lips, you pushed yourself from the granite countertop. “Let’s go.”

Following behind Daryl, you gripped the machete in your hand. Daryl’s crossbow was held up to his eye level as he surveyed the property with his sharp hunter eyes. When you approached the front entrance of the two floor victorian styled home, Daryl used his elbow to knock on the door. Straining your ears, you both waited for any kind of disturbance to be heard. When nothing happened, you both ventured in. Using his hand, Daryl signaled you to check upstairs while he searched the downstairs. Making sure you had a firm grip on your weapon, you slowly crept towards the staircase.

Due to the neglect and overall age, each stair you stepped on felt rickety, and creaked at a pitch you were uncomfortable with. When you stepped on a particularly soft step, you feared you’d end up falling through the staircase. When you finally reached the top, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Rolling your shoulders to relieve some of the tension embedded in your muscles, you began to tiptoe down the hallway. You’d cautiously peek through each room as you passed them. If nothing caught your eye, you moved on.

The upstairs was eerily quiet; the only sounds that filled the empty passageway were your short and controlled breaths, and the creaks of the wooden floorboards. With adrenaline flowing through your veins, it made the blood pumping through you sound like gongs going off in your ears. As you ventured down the hallway, your eyes flitted over all the pictures that hung on the wall. Most of them were family pictures, or portraits of children who had gotten their yearly pictures taken at school. When your eyes fell on a group family picture, your stomach twisted and you had to look away. You were sure that was the family whose house you were currently looting and snooping through.

The last room that had to be checked out was the master bedroom, which resided at the end of the hallway. Swallowing thickly, you readjusted the grip you had on your machete, again, and gently pressed your ear against the cold wooden door. Even after your knock against the door, there were no suspicious sounds coming from within. Moving inside, you looked around the trashed bedroom. There was nothing much to look at, just thrown mildewy clothes, and aged beauty and grooming supplies scattered across various dressers. Just as you were about to move on, a shut door, which you assumed was the bathroom, caught your eye. You hoped there were medical supplies in there, since the supplies you had back home were running out fast. With a clammy hand, you turned the knob.

Before you could even take a step into the bathroom, a growling walker lunged at you from out of nowhere; almost as if it had materialized out of thin air. Your breath got stuck in your throat as the walker came at you with impeccable speed. Until you could get at an advantage point, all you could do was stumble backwards as the snarling walker snapped its unhinged jaw and bared its rotten teeth in your face. Falling into the hallway, you pressed your arm against the walker’s throat to prolong its teeth from sinking into your flesh.

In a sheer panic, you blindly swung your machete at the walker with your free hand. With your flailing body and limbs, it was impossible to get a proper headshot. The best you could do was land a few slashes on the walker’s back and shoulders. The scent of your alive flesh motivated the corpse to keep charging towards you, hence making your weak attempts at slowing it down futile. Letting out a choked cry, your body slammed against the opposing wall in the hallway. With the impact of your body crashing against the wall, one of the framed pictures rattled off its hook and crashed down on your head. Sharp pieces of glass cascaded down your face, cutting your skin and making it seem like you were taking a stinging shower of splinters. Due to your tousle with the walker, the machete had been dropped from your hand.

“D-Daryl!” You fearfully choked out as all the air in your lungs felt like it had been knocked out of you.

“Y/N!?” Daryl shouted as he began to run towards the staircase. The closer he got, the louder your desperate cries and the snarls of the famished walker sounded. Explicits left Daryl's mouth as he ran as fast as he could to get to you.

Your arms shook as you struggled to keep the deadweight of the corpse from suffocating you completely. It was then that you realized you wouldn’t be able to hold the walker back much longer. Your strength was dwindling fast, and you knew it was only a matter of seconds until your arms would completely give out. Feeling your sinuses swell in emotion, and eyes begin to sting with oncoming tears, you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head as far away as you could from the salivating walker. Just before your arms had given out completely, you heard an arrow whizz through the air and puncture through the rotten skull of the walker with a sickening squelching sound.

Like a rock, the corpse dropped to the ground in front of you, collapsing in a heap by your blood stained boots. Your chest heaved heavy breathes as your wide and terror filled eyes stayed glued on the neutralized walker. Vaguely, you could hear Daryl calling out to you, but his voice sounded disoriented and indecipherable. It felt like your head was dunked underwater and the only thing you could hear were the muffled sound waves.

"Hey—hey…Y/N, can ya hear me?" Daryl placed his hands on your shaking shoulders, his eyes darting over your body in search of any bites, scratches, or other injuries. The archer spotted the multiple cuts littering across your skin due to the smashed glass, and a gash on your hairline that was causing blood to fall down the side of your face. “You're alright...just-just snap out of it dammit." Daryl tried to comfort you as you stood in a traumatized stupor, but found himself growing frustrated with his inability to do so. Instead, he found himself growling at you.

After giving your shoulders a firm squeeze, Daryl gently shook you; even though his capability of gentleness was slow and jolted movements. Feeling the jagged shakes of your body, you slowly felt yourself become less numb. Your vision refocused, and you could see Daryl’s worried face staring directly in front of you. Daryl ducked his head a little so he could be more eye level with you, and searched your eyes for any sign of awareness.

“That—that was too close.” You whispered in a wavering voice before struggling to swallow the lump that sat in your throat. At the sound of your regained consciousness, Daryl felt his shoulders drop in relief.

“You alright?” Daryl asked quietly, fearful to raise his voice any louder. He knew you weren’t okay, but thought he’d still ask.

“My head kinda hurts…but I think I’m okay?” You searched Daryl’s eyes as if the answer was somewhere in his uniquely colored irises. “Please tell me you found something, or this near-death experience was for nothing.”

Removing one hand from off your shoulders, Daryl rubbed the back of his neck. “I—uh—think I found a couple things worth takin’ back…” Trailing off, you watched as Daryl dug into his pants pocket and pull out a box. At first glance, it looked like a pack of cigarettes, but you quickly identified the generic brand for hardware nails. “They ain’t rusty, but I think they’ll do just fine”

At the sight, a smile began to break out on your face, and laughter erupted from out of your mouth. You weren’t sure if it was because the adrenaline was beginning to dwindle, or because of the near death you had just experienced, but your laughter began to turn into sobs. Tears streamed steady down your face, and you instinctively threw your arms around Daryl’s neck for support as your knees began to buckle from beneath you. For a moment, Daryl’s body was completely still as he felt your body tremble against his, and your salty tears seep through his cotton shirt. Dropping the pack of nails, Daryl practically engulfed your frame with his arms; holding you tight and making you feel protected.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Daryl murmured against the side of your head as he stroked your hair. “I ain’t gonna let nothin’ bad ever happen to ya.”

Whimpering, your arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what happened…it just—came right at me. I-I couldn’t even brace myself.”

“Might be dumb as hell, but those bastards can be tricky sometimes.” Daryl drawled, making his distinct southern accent sound even thicker.

“I just feel like a stupid rookie—making it this far in the apocalypse, taking down hundreds of walkers for over a decade, and then being taken out by one?” With scoff, you shook your head distastefully. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey-“ Pulling away so he could cup both your cheeks with his hands, Daryl made sure he was looking into your glossy and sad eyes. “Sometimes we get a reality check, ’n it sucks, but it’s gonna make ya even stronger now.” With a shake of his head, a lopsided smile began to twitch at one corner of his mouth. “You were a force to be reckoned with before, now you’re gonna be unstoppable…feel sorry for the next unlucky sumbitch that gets in your way.”

You could feel your face begin to heat up, and fresh tears glaze over your eyes at Daryl’s endearing words of reassurance. With the sleeve of your shirt, you wiped at the wetness staining your cheeks. Unable to find your voice, and with your throat still feeling thick, you placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder for balance and rose to your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. The second he felt your soft lips press against his scruffy cheek, the archer felt the tips of his ears and the expanse of his chest flush pink. Shaking his head so his bangs covered the bashful expression on his face, Daryl cleared his throat and looked inside the bedroom you had previously been in.

“Ya find anythin’ in here?”

“I didn’t get a chance to look in the bathroom.” You admitted with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. Nodding his head, Daryl turned from you and ventured inside. You followed after him with a ducked head. “I only went in there in hopes of finding some medical supplies…”

Pausing in front of the medicine cabinet that hung on the wall above the sink, and with his fingers resting on the metal knobs, Daryl looked at your dejected form through the mirror. “I know.” Pulling open the unsteady cabinet, Daryl’s hands searched through the outdated and expired medicine. From your visibility, you spotted a small first-aid kit, and a bottle of medical alcohol. “C’mere.”

With a thick gulp, you shuffled over to the archer who was busy pawing through the first-aid kit. “There's others back home that need that stuff more than me.” You pointed out as Daryl grabbed a few bandaids for the numerous cuts that were littered across your face. Turning to you with furrowed eyebrows, Daryl frowned down at you.

“Now you’re bein’ stupid.”

Huffing out a scoff, you leaned back against the bathroom sink and crossed your arms firmly over your chest. After spending years by Daryl’s side, you knew there was no point in arguing with him; he was too stubborn. Stepping in front of you, Daryl grabbed the black bandana from out of his back pocket and slowly rose it to the bloody gash on your forehead. As gently as he could, the archer removed as much blood from the surrounding area as he could.

As Daryl tended to your wounds, with his face so close to yours and the tips of his fingers occasionally brushing against your skin, you found it difficult to breathe properly. There was so much concentration and concern on his face as he worked, and you could feel the care he had for you with each movement of his hands as he placed butterfly bandages on your various wounds. Whenever your eyes caught his, you could feel your face heat up. You prayed the dingy lighting prevented Daryl from noticing your flustered state. At one point, you swore you saw the archers fingers tremble due to the fear of inflicting further pain on you as he placed gauze on the big and sensitive laceration on your forehead.

“Thanks.” You murmured in a soft voice as Daryl finished with the last bandaid.

“I ain’t done yet–you’re gonna need some stitches for that gash on your head.” With his finger, he pointed to the cut he was referring too. “I think I got some leftover stitchin’ stuff back at my place.”

“Well, I’m thanking you in advance.” Despite how physically and emotionally drained you were, you still managed to give Daryl a smile that never failed to make his heart feel like it would burst from his chest.

“Don’t gotta do that…it’s nothin’.” Unable to take a compliment, Daryl turned away from you and began to stuff the remaining medical supplies in his bag. With heart racing so fast, he wondered if you could hear it from where you stood so closely beside him.

“It’s not nothing, Daryl,” Placing a hand on his arm, you turned him so he was facing you again. When you were able to meet his ducked gaze, you placed a hand on his chest. “It means everything to me…you and all the things you do means a lot to me, actually.”

You didn’t know where this sudden proclamation was coming from, you just knew it felt right…despite the intense circumstances that had taken place only moments ago. You supposed your near-fatal reality check was giving you the courage to finally tell Daryl only a fraction of the feelings you had spent nearly a decade harboring. The thought of having to continue living with whatever time you had left not at your fullest caused knots to tighten in your stomach.

As your eyes flitted over Daryl’s face, you saw him swallow hard, clearly feeling the weight of your words. Slowly, the archer rested his hand over the hand you had rested on his chest. With a silent hitch of your breath, you swore he was about to remove your hand, and you could feel your heart beginning to break at the anticipation. However, when you felt his large hand press down, keeping you there, and his fingers curl around yours, you felt your muscles relax and your breathing return to normal.

“You’re actin’ like it’s a chore to have your back or to care about ya, and it ain’t. I just–don gotta think about it…never had to, really.”

For a moment, you shut your eyes as you felt Daryl sweep hair from out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. When you opened them again, you were instantly met with Daryl’s bright eyes searching your face. With a bashful stifle of a laugh, you raised your free hand to your face and brushed at your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt as if you were wiping away phantom tears.

“I don’t think I wanna waste another second of whatever time I’ve got left…at this rate, there’s probably not much left.”

With a dismissive scoff, Daryl squeezed his hand around yours. “Don say stuff like that…I ain’t got any more inspirin’ words left to say.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the teasing lilt in his voice. You felt your hand press down on his chest for balance as your body leaned back with your laughs. Daryl could feel a rather boyish grin begin to stretch across his face due to the sight of seeing your once somber face become enriched with contagious light again.

“Maybe when we get back home I’ll have more to say.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm–don’t really wanna mess up tellin’ ya how I feel ‘bout ya, either.”

With a grin so bright that Daryl was convinced could challenge and win against the sun, you enlaced your hand in his, and began to lead him out of the bathroom.

“We should get going then.”

A/N: This was so fun to write, as I’ve never written this much intensity and action before! I started to get a little carried away towards the end with the semi love confession, since I didn’t like my original ending, but I think it’s cute and works...right? Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!! <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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writeformesinpie · 2 years

Text

Late Night Assignment

CEO Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Summary - Your boss asks you to stay late even though he knows you have a date. Things end up getting heated.

Genre - Office AU/Smut

Warnings - Smut, flirting, slight degradation and name calling, vaginal sex, nipple play, language, teasing, unprotected sex, cream pie, etc

Word Count - 2.7k

Tag List - @kpoptrashlord-007 @justanotherstarlightmonger

A/N - Oops, this was meant to be posted for Jungkook’s birthday - I’m only a couple of days late

Desperate taps against the keyboard. Stolen glances at the computer's clock. A quick wave with a tight smile as your last coworker bids you farewell.

You shouldn’t be here. It’s already too late. One more email and you’ll pack up.

Nimble fingers glide across the table, one hand typing out your final salutation as the other digs into the drawer. Hooking a finger around the strap of your handbag, you press send and watch as your message disappears, on its way to another company, someone else’s problem.

“There you are.”

Your thumb hovers in front of the power button, your body leaning across the desk to reach it. Resisting the urge to run you instead take a deep breath of the office’s stale air. Closing your eyes tight, you compose yourself.

“I wonder if you could help me figure out the Johnson case.”

“The Johnson case?”

Sitting back down you swivel in the black chair to face your boss. He’s smiling. Of course he’s smiling – he’s always smiling. His slicked back hair has loosened from the product he used this morning, his dark waves tumbling free to sweep across his face, giving him a more relaxed look.

“Yeah, I need someone to bounce some ideas against.”

“I can’t tonight. I told you I have a date.”

“Oh?” There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes before his face stills into a frown. “Was that tonight?”

He knows it’s tonight; you told him last week and you reminded him this morning that you needed to leave on time. Why is he acting like this now when just this morning he seemed so uninterested in the whole conversation? It’s just like him to change his mind at the last minute. Something tickles at the corner of his brain about the advertisement mere hours before the company is due to arrive for the scheduled presentation leaving destruction in his wake. Every hand on deck. Or worse, when much like tonight, he decides to change something right before you’re about to log out for the weekend.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind waiting.”

“Who said it was a he?”

Jungkook gives you a onceover before letting his eyes focus on your face, his features tight and unforgiving. “I’m sure they won’t mind waiting.”

“Are you seriously asking this of me right now?” There’s no point in asking, he’s already turning away, beckoning you with a flick of his wrist, not bothering to turn and see if you’re following. You punch the air a few times with tight balled fists before pulling out your phone and sending a message of sincere regret. The career you fought so hard to obtain is destroying your dating life. If you don’t leave this job soon you may very well end up a spinster.

Dragging your feet, you take your time, dawdling towards Jungkook’s office. Pushing the door all the way open you waddle over to the furthest chair with a pout on your lips, resigning to sulk until he finally lets you go home. What a waste of a Friday night.

“You don’t have to stay if you really don’t want to.” When you shoot up and take a step towards the door, he continues, “I guess I’ll just do it myself. All alone. It’ll take twice as long but that’s fine.”

This time you give in to your inner urges, your eyes rolling so dramatically you’re afraid they might pop out of your skull. Shuffling closer you sit in the chair in front of his desk, grabbing the file and browsing its contents.

“What do you need? It looks like everything is in order,” you say as you turn the last few pages. It looks like it’s been read at least fifty times, the pages creased with a few coffee stains littering the crisp white paper.

“So what’s this date of yours like?”

“Excuse me?”

“What does he do? How long have you been talking?”

Your knotted brows ease as you realise what this is all about. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Of course not,” he says leaning back, arms crossed in front of his chest as he snuggles into the plush chair. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not dating some loser.”

“Oh? You’re worried about me?” you tease, a smirk adorning your lips.

“Worried about the company. It’s inconvenient to have to deal with the mess that comes from a bad relationship. Or worse, a good one.”

“What mess comes from a good relationship?”

“Marriage. Taking time off from work for the honeymoon. Then children usually follow and that’s maternity leave. You might as well just be a stay-at-home mother at that point.”

“What?” You laugh and shake your head. Is he being serious?

“Kids are always getting sick. They carry viruses. They’re practically a walking disease. If you’re not taking off time for them you’ll be taking time off for yourself. Years of illnesses and for what?”

“A life changing experience filled with joy, unconditional love and new life lessons?”

“No. After 18 years–no, let's be serious, these days it’s well into the 20’s–after all that time and effort you put into raising and loving them they just up and leave. After all that sacrifice you are simply abandoned.”

“That’s what the spouse is for.”

“Unless they leave, too? Probably for a newer model.”

“A newer model? What are we, cars?” Scrunching up your face, you lean over and pat him on the shoulder. “Who hurt you?”

He looks from you to your hand (now rubbing his shoulder) then back to your face, his fierce eyes betraying his poker face. Dropping your hand, you ease onto the edge of his desk in an awkward attempt to make yourself look relaxed. Instead your skirt ends up tangling up under your butt, the fabric pulled tight against your thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. As you try to pull your skirt back down to an acceptable length in a nonchalant way you rock back and forth and end up knocking a stack of papers off of the desk.

“Shit.”

Jumping to the floor on your hands and knees, your arms flailing out in every direction, you scramble to collect the paperwork, jumbled in a puzzle of white. You have the worst luck. Jungkook clicks his teeth behind you as you mumble an apology and start the tedious process of piecing the piles back together.

After a few moments, while wondering why Jungkook isn’t at least pretending to help, you sneak a look over your shoulder. Heat licks your cheeks and you snap your hand back around, pulling on your skirt. How could you be so stupid? The silky material of your skirt got caught up as you jumped to the floor exposing god only knows what to your boss. The way his eyes bore into yours with a distinct glimmer of lust makes you think he may have caught a glimpse of your lacy thong underneath.

Scooping the last pile of paper together the heat of embarrassment spreads from your face to your core as you remember the look on his face. Raw. Animalistic. What is he thinking? It takes every ounce of your self respect not to turn and crawl towards him.

The second hand ticks louder than before, bringing your attention to the large moon-shaped clock up on the wall. You’ve been here for only fifteen minutes yet it feels like an eternity.

Standing you mutter, “Excuse me,” under your breath as you place the last stack back on the table. Refusing to look at him you instead hang your head as you continue, “Well, if that's all…”

“You’re leaving already? But we haven’t even started.”

“I think that’s enough humiliation for today,” you say, trudging towards the door.

Before you can reach it however, you hear the familiar sound of paper plopping against the ground. With a snap of the neck you turn back towards Jungkook’s desk, your feet carrying you to the scene of the crime before you realise something. You were nowhere near the table when the new mishap happened and judging from Jungkook’s lazy grin as he continues to lean back in the office chair either was he.

“Oops.”

“Did you do that on purpose?” you ask from your half-squat position. Standing, you take a step back as he does the same, his steps quicker than your own, each stride bringing him closer until he is close enough to touch.

“And what if I did?” His brow lifts on the last word as you back into the wall behind you. “Do you think I don’t notice your pitifully obvious attempts to catch my attention?”

“What do you mean?” you practically scoff, turning your head to look away from him.

“The slutty outfits.”

“Slutty outfits! What outfits?”

“The way you sashay around the office.”

“We call that walking where I come from.”

“The intoxicating perfume you adorn yourself with,” he says, his fingers twisting around your wrist to hold you in place as he leans close, his lips against your neck. “Every scent you wear is more exhilarating than the last.”

His fingers dig into your flesh as he litters light kisses up your throat that leave a trail of fire against your skin, the rough and sweet a certain torture to your erratic heartbeat. A heartbeat that echoes under his very touch.

This isn’t how you imagined him finally making his move. The slutty outfits, the tempting struts around the office, the scents. You had started to think he wasn’t interested. Who would’ve thought all it would take for him to notice was giving up?

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?” His fingers entwine with yours above your head as he nibbles on your ear.

“Today's perfume.”

“I can’t get enough,” he says, a sly grin on his face as his fingers trace down the length of your arms. “You smell like spicy whipped cream. I want to take my time tasting every single inch of you but I can’t stand not having you another moment.”

His teeth dig into your neck and you moan out from the pleasure and pain. Lifting you up he carries you over to his desk, leaning you against the edge as he shoves everything to the ground with a carnal growl. Papers flutter in the air and before you can fret about how long it’s going to take to get everything back in order your back knocks up against the cool mahogany wood beneath you.

Agile fingers make quick work of your blouse. With a quick inhale of breath he takes a moment to drink you in as his hands explore your exposed skin. Your nipples perk up both due to his touch and the chilled breeze swirling down from the vent above Jungkook’s desk.

“Is it always this cold here?”

“I’ll warm you up,” he murmurs against your chest, one hand snaking under your skirt while the other cups your breast. While sucking on the supple skin, his fingers find your panties, damp and clinging to your throbbing cunt. His tongue glides across the rim of your nipple before rolling it gently between his teeth.

Arching your back you grind your pussy against his fingers. Desperate for more you push against the constricting fabric as far as you can. He drags your lace thong down to your ankles and leaves them dangling on one foot as he turns his attention back to your core. His fingers trace messages against your clit as he continues to dine on your swollen breasts.

“Stop teasing me, Kookie,” you moan the words, ignoring his raised brow as he kisses his way up the middle of your chest. “Just fuck me already.”

“Patience is a virtue, beautiful.”

“I don’t want to be virtuous,” you say, shifting back and forth under him. He pulls his fingers out from under your skirt and you let out a whine.

“Suck,” he commands, his fingers hover in front of your mouth. Parting your lips he slips them inside. Your tongue glides against his digits a few times before you clamp down sucking on them like they’re an ice block. Almost as delicious. “Good girl.”

Pulling them back he ignores your pout, shoving his hand back between your thighs. Biting your bottom lip you watch as he slips one of his fingers inside. Slow. Controlled. He has the power and he refuses to let it go. Not that you mind. You try to keep your eyes glued to his but by the time he slides in the third finger you’re writhing under his touch, the cool air from the vent no longer enough to keep the heat building between you at bay.

“It’s okay, baby, you can come.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you sob, the pleasure continuing to build as he quickens the pace of his fingers. “No, I want you inside. I want to come with you.”

He pulls out his fingers with a chuckle, the slick sound of your excitement quickly followed by the clinking sound of his belt buckle and the pull of his zipper. He stares down at you licking his fingers with a hum, his dick nuzzling up against your pussy before he pulls back. Before you can complain his lips are on yours, his hands in your hair pulling you closer. Bruising kisses follow tiny nips then his tongue dances along your lips before he pushes inside you, his full girth filling every inch of your cunt.

“Oh my God,” you sputter out the words and it comes out distorted as he sucks on your bottom lip. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he thrusts his hips against yours, his thick cock propelling deep within your tight walls.

The musky smell of his sweat combined with the sweet aroma of his cologne fills the room as the sound of skin on skin rebounds off the walls. Sweat trickles down the back of your neck as his pace quickens. Raking your nails up the bulging muscles of his arms you toss your head back and forth unable to utter a word. Breathless.

Savage hunger burns inside as you buck your hips up in time to meet his. Frantic desire fills you to the core, seeping out of every pore. It’s not enough. You want him to fill you more.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you say, the words practically a growl from between clenched teeth. He smirks down at you but he doesn’t stop, instead his pace increases. He drills deep inside, each thrust eliciting a guttural moan.

Curling toes and fingers digging into the taut flesh of his shoulders hint at your climax and somehow he hastens the velocity of his movements. You blink away tears as your body erupts into liquid fire, a demonic spark of pure ecstasy rippling waves of fire across your skin.

You allow yourself to drown in the pleasure as your body jerks in unison with Jungkook’s soothing movements. His cock throbs and pulses inside of you, his body tensing as he cages you within. He rocks back and forth a few more times before he relaxes against you, pinning you under him. Panting you wrap your arm across his back and kiss his neck, the smell of his skin easing you back into a comfortable rhythm.

“That was hot,” you purr against his ear, raking your fingers through his black waves. The mess on the floor catches your eyes and you make a move to get up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You motion towards the paperwork and office supplies scattered across the floor. “Leave it.”

“It won’t take long to–”

“It’ll just end up back on the floor again,” he says, his lips trailing across your neck down your throat.

“Are you trying to fuck me until I can’t stand?”

“I like the sound of that,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. He pushes his cock back inside with ease causing both his come and your previous arousal to drip down your cunt. “But don’t worry, I can carry you to my car when we’re done.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

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not-so-allegiant-general · 9 months

Text

Force sensitive Hux au

Kylo discovered that Snoke was suppressing Hux's abilities just to keep them apart. It is General Hux who was his dyad in force. Not Rey. But now without Snoke there is no one between them. And there is no one between Hux and force. And it is painful but Hux doesn't want to learn from Kylo. He doesn't trust him nor the force. He can't sleep, he hears voices, everything vibrates. And he feels emotions that aren't his. Its getting worse and worse. And he hates that the only thing that helps is being close to Kylo. But he can't deny It any more, or he will go mad. So one day Kylo found him curled up on his bed. Hux got up.

"Mh... Sorry. I was waiting for you"

"In my bed?"

"Yeah. Everything else vibrates and It made me want to vomit"

Kylo sat down close to him.

"You can go back to sleep. We will talk later. I can stay. " He answered Hux thoughts. Hux rubbed his face and laid down again. He was too tired to protest and having Kylo so close felt wonderful, so he just went back to sleep. After "okey Ren you can teach me but I will not call you master" talk they started immediately next day.

And Hux was indeed a fast learner. And after few weeks its kinda started to bother Kylo. A lot. Force was listening to Hux as it has never listened to Kylo before. Hux built his own saber. And it was flawless. Elegant. Pure white blade. How the fuck did he turned kyber white? Kylo didn't know. He knew that Hux was an kyber expert because of Strakiller, but he was never really interested in his research. Hux could meditate for hours. Kylo couldn't last even two. And it was tearing him apart because Hux was everything that he wasn't. Everything that he wanted to be.

Navigation consoles began to suffer again from his rage.

"Ren! Ren stop it immediately! Ren! Supreme Leader it is you own ship for the fuck sake!"

Kylo breathed out and deactivated the blade.

"What's going on? Ren?"

" am sorry"

" I Hope so. But i don't care about you being sorry i care for an explanation" and Kylo explained. And Hux was looking at him with disbelief.

" Oh come on. Enough of this whining Ren" he stopped him " Can you even hear yourself?"

"Hux..."

" You alone told me that force is a path aren't you ? "

"Yes but..."

" So there is infinite number of paths. You can't blame me that i chose a different one. Actually if we are what you called It a dyad? Its perfectly logical that we are opposites. Let's say it clear there is nothing in control, in order about you. Just chaos. I could never live like this. "

" Yes but..."

"But but ... I told you stop whining like a child. Look at yourself. You are pure, raw force. You could go against Rancor with this red thing and ego of yours. And you're siting here and whine because i have a prettier lightsaber?"

"I... "

" And what? That my abilities are better? Are you joking? I didn't beat you in a duel even once. And how the fuck did you cracked kyber Ren? Because if i could do that Starkiller would be ready at least few years faster!"

"How the fuck did i cracked kyber? How the fuck did YOU make it WHITE!?"

"Wouldn't you like to know huh?" Hux smiled "Why don't you just ask?"

"What?"

" I'am not Snoke. i'am not going to hide things from you. Do stop breaking consoles and start verbally communicating what's going on because i am tired of this hide-and-seek" Kylo was blinking at him. Hux sighed. "Come. I will show you kyber."

They did not arrive to laboratories because Kylo pressed him to the wall and kissed. Hux just moaned tilting his head back.

"Is it verbal enough Hux?"

" Its suggestive enough. First my quarters. Then kyber. " He said when he regained breath. " But enough of destroying my ship"

" Oh. Now it's yours ? "

" You just said i am better than you at basically everything? Shouldn't i be Supreme Leader then? " He mocked. He had never learnt that you have to be careful what you wish for. Kylo smiled amused and kissed back of his hand.

"You know what Hux? You are right" Hux blinked.

"What?"

"I can see It now. Crystal clear. My destiny is to conquer, bring down empires. And lay them at your feet. Yours is to rule. "

And Hux for the first time in his life was absolutely speechless.

#armitage hux #star wars #general hux #headcanon #hux #kylux #kylo ren #force sensitive hux #force sensitive #i was never big fan of force sensitive hux au #but i have grown to like it #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction

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sin-sidejob · 1 year

Note

Give me jealous possessive JR/Andre/Gigi/Robotus or give me DEATH

Inside Job — Jealous

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, canon adherent material from a mature show, jealousy, possessiveness, semi public sex, exhibition, etc

Content: bossy, bitchy, deep-state employees. When they feel jealous or insecure about others giving them attention in a way they don't really care for. Some are more dramatic and others suaver, also some more bitchy.

A/N: my, my, bossy aren’t we? Headcanons below for JR Scheimpough, Andre Lee, Gigi Thompson, and Robotus Alpha Beta, enjoy!

Robotus Alpha Beta:

- hates feeling emotions and hates feeling jealous even more, looming around like your sulky, petty, violent shadow who glares at everyone who gives you a once-over

- AB hates humanity but he’s learning to tolerate it through first hand experience and exposure, via the coworkers, and love it through you. That doesn’t mean that he’s not eager to snap a spine like a Ticonderoga #2 pencil.

- there’s one moment in particular where you actually got the first glimpse of him getting jealous, a holiday party when someone gets in a little to close and starts complimenting the fabric of your jacket while rolling it between their fingers. Before you can even say anything, you feel a weight all too familiar coil around your waist and warmth press against your back, lips leaning down to press at your temple while eyes glowing a bit ominously are locked upon the person before you, some poor bastard from accounting.

- “forgive me for interrupting,” Alpha Beta drawls suave and calm, sizing the person up from behind you knowing you could handle everything yourself, but enjoying the moment of being able to show off what’s his and his alone, “I just wanted to rejoin my dearest’s side. Quite immaculate, aren’t they?” He doesn’t waste time listening to the shaky response from the person before you and rather seems content just staring at you, focusing on your presence and spotting you glance up at him with a coy smile hidden behind the lip of your drink.

- You don't even look at the person in front of you, not interested in the slightest meanwhile AB is staring them down with a small, earnest little smirk until they leave, lurking behind like your personal, protective shadow.

- "Can I grab you a refill?" He asks, noting your now empty drink as he moves out from behind you and before you, taking you in as you lean against the unoccupied side of the bar, grinning up at him with a proud yet amused smirk. "What's the look for?"

- "Oh nothing," you drawl, smiling all the while and unable to wipe it off your face as you stare up at him, noting his hand still on your waist, "just finding your possessive streak endearing."

- "Endearing, huh?" Alpha-beta mirrors, leaning in a bit closer and making your head tilt up a tad as he watches your eyes lower to peer up at him beneath thick lashes, "Seeing you act all protective and domineering, possessive, its cute." Alpha-beta arches a brow, taking in your expression idly. "Cute? I'm not cute - I'm a homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity."

- "The only thing you've been destroying lately is me," you talk over and ignore his guffaw, enjoying the petulant scoff, "and its former homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity, now you just kill for fun. That makes it a pastime."

- "It doesn't. You know damn well that's incorrect." He immediately buts back, eyes half-lidded but still unable to give up his need to be right, "Oh I do, it's just funnier to get you all pent up, you fuck harder that way."

- "I'm getting you another drink and the second you finish it, I'm taking you home and you won't leave the house until Monday on legs so shaky its as if you're impersonating a newborn deer."

- "You've never been hotter." You tease and kiss his cheek as he takes your glass while passing by you, grabbing you a refill of your drink of choice and standing with his back to you at the bar, smiling up at the mirror that allows him to see you staring right at him from behind.

- He has no worry about losing you to another, knowing you well enough by now, but any little what-if gets clouded over by how you look at him, even when you think he can't see. Alpha-Beta adds it to the files, under that folder of reminders of how much you love him when he needs to remind himself.

JR Scheimpough:

- he’s whiny and pathetic — and you love him for it, the way he’s just a little bit of a bitch — but there are some things he just won’t stand for, like seeing others try and take what’s his. Including you. That man’s backbone has never been more prominent than in those moments, and he uses all of those well crafted aspects of speech and persuasion he’s accumulated over the years, and will indeed pick apart whoever it is with words until they’re nothing but bones.

- JR has a tendency to show you off, have you at his side and brag and boast about you and your talents, accomplishments, personality, and more. He doesn’t wield you like a trophy or a prize but rather pays tribute to you and presents you forth in front of others to illustrate just how much of a catch you are, and just how taken he is with you.

- so when a former colleague eyes you up and starts to lean in, JR abandons his conversation suavely and swiftly in order to weave through people to reach you. He slinks nearby, melting into crowds and peoples shadows while watching as this person tries to get closer to you. The moment he does see red is when their hand tries to touch you and you brush it away, stepping back, but they try to force their hands onto your waist.

- “There you are darling,” he spots the flicker in your eyes, noting the relief in your body and the way you immediately lean into him when he comes up, “was just talking about you to some coworkers over there then realized I had lost you — oh!” JR turns and addresses the person before the both of you, doing that salesman grin and extending his hand. “Hello, I didn’t recognize you for a second, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” JR segways brilliantly, an arm wrapped around your waist low and comfortable and he feels you press at his side, seeking him out and he wishes he came around sooner or just hung around you the whole night.

- the two stare each other down as JR shakes their hand, smiling in a grin that seems earnest yet as fake as the pristine demeanors and character junior league women have with their pearls and prejudice. “Pleasure to see you — lovely partner you’ve got, how long have you two been together? You can wink if you want out.” They chide, nodding at you and mocking your very real relationship, and both JR’s grip on your waist tightens as does your grip on the back of his jacket, gut already at a low and continuing to plummet the longer you’re around the person before you.

- “For a while now, several years actually.” JR responds first, nodding down to you and catching your eye, getting a small yet truly earnest smile out of you, him matching before glowering at the person before you. “Our anniversaries in about a month or so.” He adds, patting your waist affectionately in a blatant look what you’ll never get to touch moment.

- “Oh congratulations then, best of luck you two.” They say before departing, disappearing into the crowd and you breathe an audible sigh of relief which JR feels responsible for, smoothing his hand over your rib cage and kissing at your temple, “M’sorry I wasn’t here, wish I could off that fucker.”

- “there’s always the assassination button.” You muse idly, letting him hold you close and smiling against his lips when he leans in to kiss you, eagerly meeting his touch and wrapping an arm around his neck to lace over his shoulder, lingering as he makes all the occupants in the room disappear, just him and you in a moment.

- “have I mentioned how much I love you and the way you think?” JR jokes, squeezing at your side and eliciting a little chirp he grins against, mouth ghosting over yours in a blatant, overly intimate display of affection. You shake your head, blinking at him beneath lashes and he watches as your grin forms, the hand at his back splaying across his shoulder while the other plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending a shudder rolling through his spine all the way down to the tailbone.

- “you may have said something, but I’m more than open to hearing more from you, if that’s quite alright Mr. Scheimpough?” Teasing, you slide the hand over his shoulder and to rest on his chest to tug at his tie, feeling him melt under your touch and his body turning to moldable clay, ready for the heat of your touch to break him or make him. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” JR breathes, hand in hand as he lets you lead him out the building towards home, or more likely, the back of the car.

Gigi Thompson:

- you think she’s gotten to where she is while letting insecurities bloom? No way. But she will cut a bitch should they touch what’s hers. Gigi doesn’t like feeling lesser than anyone, and she knows she isn’t, she’s incredible at her job and immensely talented, creative, cunning, and drop dead gorgeous. It’s why she holds you so highly in respect with how you’re all that and more. Which is why she’s the only one who gets to have you.

- The two of you had went out, finally managing a date night after a series of cancelled plans from work hijinks and shenanigans, finding yourselves at a club and hidden away in corners and booths all to your lonesome, Gigi working her magic to get you into all the hottest and most lucrative places. You had finished your glass and saw she was about to finish hers, offering to head to the bar to get refills and kissing her in a brief little see you later kiss, feeling her gloss transfer and glitter slide upon your mouth. She thinks it’s a look.

- upon making your way to the bar, you skirt through bodies of people and finally make it, waiting for the bartender to make their way through and finally reach you. You reorder Gigi’s drink and get some ice water for yourself, feeling a bit hot in the packed room. While waiting on Gigi’s drink, you sip away at your own and lean against the bar, throwing Gigi a wink from across the floor which she rolls her eyes at, smiling regardless and sending her own back.

- Gigi’s drink takes a while, one of the liquor bottles empty and another bartender needs to step away and pull out a bottle from the back. You wave a hand, smiling and assuring it’s fine, giving basic courtesy. Now sitting at the bar, you pull out your phone and respond to a few texts idly, looking up when someone talks to you, an “Excuse me?” makes you Loft your head up to find someone standing beside you, looking at you expectantly.

- “Hello?” You offer, brows furrowed and eyes squinted, confused and a bit irritated already. “Oh — you didn’t hear me then. I just asked what your name was.” You just stare, dead into this poor fuck’s soul and blink, sipping at your drink. Refusing to speak, you just glare and wait for them to leave you be so you can grab your girlfriends drink and return to her side. “Okay, so no to that then.” They trail off, sitting beside you and ignoring the blatant hints you keep dropping about wanting to be left the fuck alone.

- “So, what brings you here?” Comes their latest attempt at prodding you to speak more, their head tilted and mouth smiling, assuming you’ll give in and just tell them all about yourself. Fuck that. “Damn, what’s got you all bent out of shape? Here to nurse a breakup or some shit?” Your eyes lower to slits, glaring harshly ahead at the mirrored reflection of the bar towards the persons head, wishing you could make their skull explode with your mind.

- at another silence, they seem to get fed up, growing irritated and irate. “Oh c’mon, how stuck up are you?” Your eye twitches. “Can’t even respond—“ They’re cut off, and you feel a familiar weight lay across your shoulder and Gigi’s perfume meets your nose. You grin at the bastard across from you, knowing his fate has now been decided by a much more merciless and cutthroat person than yourself.

- “Can’t you even take a hint, with your pathetic nosy ass trying to play twenty questions with a taken person.” Gigi drawls, nails drumming against your shoulder and you peer up at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she pauses for the drama of it all — god you love this woman. “Move on, you waste of actual air and space, before I shove my fresh manicure down your throat and extricate that useless spine of yours and make it a backscratcher.”

- as expected, they leave, rapidly in fact and abandoning a wallet you loot and steal the ID from, passing it to Gigi who places a call to get the shithead disappeared. She sits and takes their seat at the bar, her purse and your things in hand as she places a hand on your thigh comfortingly, thumb rolling circles and shapes into you. “You okay?” She asks softly, meeting your eyes and you smile, patting her hand and squeezing it once, twice. “I’m fine, and besides, it was fun watching you. Look so hot doing that.”

- Gigi beams, laughing as she rests her elbow against the bar, cheek in her palm as she stares at you, her other hand on your thigh still and tracing shapes idly, just glad to be close to you and keep you close. “It’s better than when you let me grab drinks, you knocked some random fucker out last time.” She starts, smirking at your sudden frustration that she evokes. “Hey! You know that dim-dicked motherfucker deserved it — and how was I supposed to know his cheek couldn’t handle my fist through it.”

- you’re about to justify your actions when Gigi’s drink is finally poured before you both, slid into her awaiting hands and you lose track of thought once you see her take it in hand and the slow drag of her throat as she swallows a sip, the print of her lipstick against the glass. “Fuck — what was I saying.” You burst out, brows furrowed again in honest confusion and she laughs, squeezing your thigh, and you realize you honestly couldn’t care less.

Andre Lee:

- there’s two sides to the jealousy, proudly watching as you dismiss people and their attempts at sweeping you off your feet and pointing to him wherever he is with an earnest grin and wave, him waving back being fully assured that you’re his and his alone.

- there’s the additional side that’s possessive as hell and knows you’re a catch, and Andre’s insecure and doesn’t want to lose one of the best things that’ve ever happened to him. So the second he can, he pulls you aside to fuck you like a jackrabbit in the nearest room and make sure whichever person — or people — that were interested get to hear you cry out for him as he brings you to the brink of orgasm over and over, the only one getting to see you like that and taste so good on his lips.

- Andre’s in the middle of conversing with Gigi and Brett across the room and see some little shit try and slide up while you’re alone, watching as your smile grows awkward and eyes scan for him, then secure on the person before you as you scoff at something and close down your body language. Your back straightens and eyes dim to leers as you stare down the person before you, and Andre’s already biting his lip while Brett catches he’s not paying attention, turning his head to his line of sight and clueing in Gigi, who both roll her eyes and smiles while taking a sip of her cosmo.

- “Go on and save them before they break that bitches neck,” Gigi suggests, smiling and promoting Brett to nod along, smiling too. Andre just shakes his head a fraction, a small grin of his own on as he finishes the end of his drink, tossing out the cup before nodding his head in your general direction.

- “But where’s the fun in that — just wait a sec’ then they’ll ditch ‘em. That’s when I come in.” Andre muses, already excited and thrumming for what’s to happen next, the routine so constant he’s nearly blessed with a Pavlovian response in how he knows what’s to occur soon. He can practically taste you on his lips anyhow, and he’s jittery, like a wound up toy aching to be let go to putter around.

- and they all watch as, sure enough, you send the poor bastard with their tail tucked between their legs and scurrying away, ego and pride demolished in your presence as you brandish a evil little smirk and swipe your lips across the edge of your glass and finish it. Andre rolls his sleeves with an equally evil little giggle before he approaches, watching as you lick up a stray drop from your beverage away as it lingered at the bottom of your lip, turning to him with a pouty mouth and lidded, heady eyes.

- “and there you are.” You marvel, adjusting so he can sit at the bar stool beside you and lean in close, placing a brief, take peck at your lips that you cast aside in efforts to bite at his mouth, letting him taste your drink off your tongue. “Julep?”

- “close, was a mojito.” You chime, nose nudging his in a disgustingly cute manner before you lean back, lips glossed now in his spit. He loves how it looks on you. “Nice try though.” You murmur, sparing him a glance as you fish out bills from your wallet and pay your shared tab, smacking his hand away when he tries to pay — you nearly growl and he tries so hard not to laugh.

- as you paid, Andre turns and locks eyes with the fucker that tried to talk you up and flips him off with a cheery, eat shit smile before you can turn around. He feigns nonchalance but you see through it anyhow, shoving your receipt in the bag and taking his hand before walking out to the exit hall and quickly drag him into the bathrooms — slinking in and dragging him by his tie as you step backwards so he presses you against the sink.

- Andre helps you up, mouthing at your jaw as you paw and nudge at his belt, managing to unbuckle it as his slide your own bottoms down and underwear too, teasing you with eager hands as you moan out, head angled and resting against the mirror. He works quickly, shucking his pants down to his mid thighs where they bunch so he can fuck his fist then grind against you, sending your belly clenching and hips swiveling, eager for friction.

- and if that poor bastard happened to try and use the restroom, peek in just a fraction, they’d see Andre jackhammering into you and his bright, devilish smirk meet their eyes in the mirror reflection. His form covered the expanse of yours, keeping you covered but leaving your face exposed, eyes wide shut as you cry his name and praise him and his skill over and over, turning into a puddle from his ministrations and sending the bastard running — Andre considers it a win.

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