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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Yandere Profile - Scaramouche

Yes I’m finally posting it lol, I had this sitting around a while actually and was hoping we'd get more info or anything on my boy, but since it looks like that's not happening anytime soon and I’ve had it done, I'll just go ahead and post

That and I kept asking myself "Man is this it? Is this the limit of too gross and dark for it to be searchable?" but meh. I'm sure eventually we'll get more info and I'll have to edit or redo this but oh well, I felt like writing a super sadistic bastard so. For one thing I don't think it's confirmed? But I'm still going with the idea he's electro vision.

EDIT: this is circulating a lot again. Please note this was made prior to version 2.0.

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Tws: fem reader, sadism, ns/f/w themes/mentions, manipulation, derogatory offensive language, mutilation, psychological torture, a LOT of physical and emotional abuse, bone breaking, detailed branding, scarification/cutting, mentions of murder, referenced trying to hurt yourself, descriptions of torture to a third party, brief descriptions of violence and gore and very brief mentions of eye/decapitation related stuff on a third party. Scara's just.... very awful lol

Tws (ns//fw section): noncon, severe sadism, d/s content, nonconsensual masochistic conditioning, degradation, anal, public humiliation, cockwarming, petplay, it's just... bad

This is definitely the darkest/most brutal one I've done by a pretty good margin, so, I just feel like I should warn that in case dark yandere isn't your thing.

The whole thing is really long (longest one yet yay) so I'm putting the whole thing under a cut, with a ====== line to divide the sfw and ns//fw sections.

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Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 7

Brutality: 10

Physical capability: 6

Mental/emotional instability: 3

Restrictiveness: 6

Sexual sadism: 11

Stubbornness: 9.5

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Bastard.

Honestly? A lot of his bullshit is defensive, he's basically an extra-mean tsundere that will also happen to rip limbs off of people who look at you the wrong way. Quite literally a case of, "it's not like I like you or anything," which he tells both you and himself.

I mean, what were you expecting. The man is not regarded as a particularly nice person.

Nonetheless, liking you will inevitably come through in certain moments, the mask of apathy for you comes off when necessary, and what comes through instead is an insane degree of possessiveness and defensiveness. It most likely starts with someone else insulting you or getting mad at you, perhaps a Fatui darling that fucks up and some other superior starts yelling at you -- can't have that. Only he's allowed to yell at you, he's the only person that can make you cry and apologize and cower like that, and he has... low self-control. He'll absolutely get pissed and publicly blow up at the other person, making a scene that actually has some benefits, as it will deter everyone who witnesses it from ever being mean to you. Honestly, his meanness is somewhat made up by the fact that literally everyone else will be incredibly nice to you (when you are both given permission to interact), if for nothing else but fear of his wrath.

As far as who, it's likely one of two roles, first, an underling or direct subordinate as mentioned above, perhaps some kind of assistant. Second, more likely, someone who did meet him for a few moments, but in a rather... negative encounter. An enemy he was sent to deal with perhaps, someone he maybe almost got to fight but they ran away, like a coward. Someone who got in the way of him and a target. It's an instinct, really, like escaped prey, to chase after it.

Does he know your name? Because it's... questionable, given that he never calls you by it, instead opting for some rather derogatory, even offensive pet names with even more derogatory adjectives. Namely sexualized, y'know, things like that, the occasional "fucktoy" or "cumslut" later on. And it's wise not to get upset over it, because if you show any anger over it, he'll just intentionally get even worse and meaner. Again, it's all part of a defense mechanism, because God forbid you get the impression that he enjoys being around you. He'll also come up with a mean name based on a physical trait of yours. And... it's somewhat creative, at least. Something derogatory, but it's.... personalized, so, at least that's, well... affectionate? Examples include things such as four-eyes for a glasses-wearer, cow tits for the larger-chested, dumbass for a spacey, inattentive darling.

In a perpetual effort to degrade you as much as possible, he also expects you to respond to whistles and tongue-clicking, you know, the sound you make to call dogs and horses? Well, that sound is for you too, add in a "come here" finger motion sometimes -- all while not bothering to even look up from what he's doing. He could use words, but, that's more effort than he should have to put in, and you should be well-trained enough to know you're supposed to come when you hear that sound.

Another thing is that from the get-go, you get collared. It's degrading, it's possessive, it's humiliating, it's everything he likes inflicting on you. It's made for humans, so it has a lock and key, it's too tight to pull it over your head, and it's solid leather and can't be easily cut. So you're not getting out of it easily. It's not a sex thing, he insists, even though it clearly is and you will openly accuse him of it. He'll admit to it eventually. But it does have it's practical purposes as well. It can't be taken off, and it has his name and the Fatui's symbols on it, so even if you should get out and seek help from some kind of law enforcement or locals, the moment they see your collar they'll just drag you back.

And for someone who always insists you're bothering him, you will find he is actually rather... clingy. Before you know it, you're spending every second of your day with the man. Let's be real, given some of the shit going on within the Fatui, they're not gonna care that one of their highest ranking individuals has, well, more or less a slave. People will turn a blind eye. They don't care if he brings you with him. And like a good pet, you'll just sit quietly tethered to a desk. All day. He'd rather that than leave you at home. If you complain enough, he'll get you something to do, some kind of paper and pencil or a puzzle or the like, tells you to do that and not bother him. But he insists on you being with him. And likewise, the clinginess continues even in living quarters. If he's working on something, he expects you to stay in the same room. If you're in one room and try to run off to the kitchen or bedroom or whatever, you get a glare and a where the fuck do you think you're going?

You actually end up spending, unfortunately, almost more time with him than any other yan, because he insists on taking you to work every single day, whether that's in a headquarters or elsewhere, even on trips/missions, you can just hang around nearby within sight if there's any fighting. He has no need to hide you, since everyone knows about you, and he has enough power to not be challenged by bringing you wherever he wants, so he quite literally keeps you by his side, perpetually, 24/7. How... sweet.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

For a subordinate darling, though, you're right there, so it's not hard. He just tells you you can't leave, and you're going to be changing your living quarters to his. In fact, he already had some other underlings go to your residence and move some of your things. If you should resist, well, you know your family information is on your employment records, right? Would be such a shame if anything happened to them. He doesn't try to hide it very much, makes the threat pretty obvious with no hint of subtleness.

for any other darling, well, kidnapping is for pathetic people, and he's not one, he thinks. He's too obsessive over self image -- if he kidnaps you, that would make it seem like he likes you, or, archons forbid, even needs you. Can't have that.

Thankfully, there is a useful alternative. It's called, "passive aggressively threatening financial ruin, great harm and even death upon your loved ones unless you do as you are told." See, he doesn't have to resort to pathetic measures like kidnapping. You come willingly. Nor does he get you himself, he's above that. Sure, he might... feel the urge to, but again, he has an image to maintain, you know. Going to fetch his new pet is a task delegated to underlings.

Which is something you honestly might want to thank your lucky stars for, because they're far too afraid of consequences to be rough about it. If you showed up with bruises or cuts, who knows what could happen to them if they marred and defiled his toy with their disgusting hands. So, they're very... gentle. Honestly, the poor things might get you with pity, that if you don't come back with them, it's their job, wellbeing, even life on the line, so hey, maybe you could do the right, empathetic thing and come with them? Maybe you can talk him out of it, and save both of you! (They know that's impossible, but they say so anyway).

For the one-time-encounter darling, at first you're not even sure who they're talking about or what's going on, you're confused and think maybe they have the wrong person? Unfortunately once you're there, once they shove you into a room and slam the doors behind you, you have the oh no, I remember this guy moment. Because, well, how could you forget him? Now you're actually nervous, because they're not very clear at first as to why you're there, only that you're being detained by their forces, so you might think the Fatui would like to kill you, but that doesn't make sense since they brought you all the way here. Maybe interrogation? No, that doesn't make sense either.

He feigns apathy. Again, can't make it seem like you're, you know, important. It's more of an oh, yeah, almost forgot that you were coming sort of attitude. Like you're wasting his time, as if you weren't the one practically dragged here. He's doing some kind of paperwork (not really, he's just holding a pen and pretending to read the paper), and doesn't bother looking up for more than a moment. You're already asking questions, perhaps angrily, perhaps meekly, depending on the personality. If it's the former, he might snap and glare at you and snarl about it, if it's the latter, he'll just shoot you a glare to get you to be quiet.

Says, simply, he's decided that you posed... an obstacle before. An annoyance. You're not worth the trouble you caused before, and he'll make sure you don't get in his way again. He's gracious enough to not kill you, since he thinks you have some potential for a different purpose. You'll be like... a slave. Pet. Toy. Whichever word you like best. You start today and it's indefinite, so get used to it.

He says it so matter-of-factly and calmly, apathetically, that you're almost not certain you heard right, so you blink and stare and ask sorry, what? And he groans and rolls his eyes and tells you to listen because in the future he's not going to be repeating things for you, and tells you again.

You protest? Ok, maybe he'll just actually kill you, then? Sound good? No? Then why bother saying anything? You should have known that was the alternative. Of course, he wouldn't actually kill you, but, you don't exactly know that, and this guy certainly looks and sounds like he wouldn't hesitate. So... have fun.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He's going to have you under constant, live surveillance every waking second of your life, so, it's not exactly easy. Given his position, he can easily persuade anyone to let him bring you with him to whatever work he has to do. He keeps you collared and tethered to the desk, most of the time. And he prefers you to be under his surveillance, but if he absolutely needs to leave he will leave you under the care of guards, and it's never a long window of time. Most of said guards value their lives and know the man well enough to know they had better keep a very good eye on you.

Your only real chance is when you get the newbie guard, the one who doesn't know better and might get distracted. If you're willing to throw said guard under the bus, you stand a slight chance of getting out into the main buildings, and even then, you have to make your way out of one of the most heavily guarded, likely walled-in buildings in Teyvat, out into the very difficult to survive wilderness. It's actually not a great idea. You'll most likely end up caught by guards even if you make it out of the initial room, and as you can imagine, your course of actions has not gone over well with your captor, who they drag you back to, likely kicking and screaming because you know you do not want to face his wrath.

It's not pretty. Escape attempts are a very high-ranking offense in his mind, and even worse, you've made a fool of yourself and reflected poorly on him. You'll most likely have a broken bone by the end of it. He doesn't really think out punishments for this very much, he just acts on angry impulse, which at the time might be snapping one or two of your fingers, or a kick to the stomach that cracks a rib. It won't be too severe of broken bones, thankfully, he won't break your legs or arms... not just yet, at least.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Ok actually... you'd be surprised that it's easier than you think. You see, you'll find that a lot of particularly cruel, mean-spirited people often don't have the best socialization skills, as people tend to fear them so much and dislike engaging with them that they don't get a lot of conversational exchanges beyond barking orders and dominating any exchanges, and consequently, as well as due to people's fear of them, have difficulty telling when someone is lying, being sarcastic, or reading subtle things like body language and facial expressions.

As a result, you can lie to him, and he's more easily fooled by acting than you'd expect, although it's still difficult, it's just no next-to-impossible. But I mean, really, the question is more... is it really worth the risk? Because you'll suffer if you get caught. Managing to trick him is kinda humiliating on his end, and he doesn't exactly take kindly to people making a fool out of him. It's an insult to his pride, so, consequences are more severe than just regular misbehavior. Basically the more an offense humiliates him or makes him insecure, the more he'll lash out at you as a result. Lying or any kind of deception is a very severe offense on his internal ranking. Basically, lying is only really worth it if you're planning an escape and are fairly confident you can pull it off.

Manipulation isn't really possible. What, you promise you'll behave better if you get this or that? And you think that'll persuade him? Hah. Don't try it. He actually gets mad if you try that sort of thing. Any exchange like that, you see, gives you a semblance of some sort of power, which is unacceptable. Why give you an inch of your way when he can just brutalize his way into getting you to do whatever he wants? That being said, he might come up with things on his own to pacify or appease you if you annoy him in general, but won't listen to your "deals" -- so really, if you want something, it's smarter to express interest in that thing at some point, then go and annoy him in general -- he's much more likely to think of that thing and get you what you want, whereas if you ask for it directly in exchange for not being such a brat, he'll say no.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Initially not a lot, he doesn't want to waste money on anything for you, but soon realizes you can be very, very annoying while he's trying to work, and you're so bored that you're willing to take the consequences of being annoying. He hates to give in to the "if you give me stuff to do I won't bother you" thing because it feels like giving in to you, but, eventually if you pester him enough he'll cave and get your something to do from his own idea, but as aforementioned, not a direct deal made with you.

So, eventually, you'll get things to do. Books, paper and pencils, anything that works if you give him some peace and quiet.

As far as roaming, though, absolutely not. You start off not leashed to anything, but if you try some shit once, you'll have your collar leashed up and tethered. During meetings, you obviously can't leave. And any roaming, really, would be breaking the "don't leave my line of sight" rule. Really, he gets upset even if you move around the room too much, prefers you stay still.

It's a stretch to call it lenience, but you go where he goes, so you do get some outings. Even if you don't want them, because again, you go where he goes.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Rules are simple actually, because a simple rule encompasses a lot. He tells you very plainly from the start: "Don't piss me off."

Of course, poor darling has to get some elaboration on that, so he sighs and groans but clarifies and it turns out there are, in fact, many rules. Do everything you are told, do it when he says it, and don't complain. Don't avoid him. Don't speak without permission. Don't backtalk him or give him an attitude. Stay within his sight at all times. Don't speak to anyone that's not him, and don't look them in the eye. Call him "Master." "Sir" will suffice occasionally. If he calls you over, don't take you time, you should move as fast as you can. ...He keeps going on for a while. This is, obviously, a much further extent than it initially seemed, but he doesn't seem to have much leniency, so you try to listen carefully.

Most importantly. You will take everything he has to give without fighting back, and at the end, you'll thank him. While saying this rule, he actually bothers to look up from his work and look you in the eye, and you know he's very serious about it.

For simple punishments, it's not so much that he intends to do horrible things, it's more that he gets into more or less a tantrum and gets so mad he lashes out on instinct without thinking it over. Expect a lot of simple beatings -- slapped in the face, some hair pulled out, a combination of both is common, where he just grabs you by the hair and smacks you around. Shoves you to the ground, kicks you while you're down there. Spits in your face. Chokes you on the collar, chokes you with his hand until you black out. He'll wait for you to recover on that last one, after all, you have to say your "thank you" at the end.

As aforementioned, escape attempts are a high-ranking offense, but not quite worth severely broken bones to him. However, this changes if they become repetitive. This is the fourth time now, so maybe you don't need that ankle too much.

However, the actual worst offense is trying to harm him or yourself. Hurt yourself, and you'll find yourself unable to. He'll make sure you come to appreciate life with him a little more, let's see how you like constant restraint, 24/7 bound and tied to a chair or the bed. This might also get a wrist or fingers broken, to prevent you from hurting yourself.

But raise a hand against the man and you'll genuinely, truly suffer. It's a combination, you get a little bit of everything, an all in one deal -- one offense, receive every type of punishment free! But if this happens again, he decides to do something a little more... permanent.

In order to reach this point, you'd have to be particularly bad for a pretty long streak of time. Repeated escapes, repeated attacks, repeated misbehavior, and you just don't seem to learn, so, he'll just have to remind you of your place, and he feels the best way to do that is leaving a mark. Oh, and probably the most physically traumatic experience of your life, that aspect will help it sink in.

He might not be able to do all of them with a respective vision, but that doesn't mean he can't just mark you in a few of the old-fashioned ways! In fact, you get the choice. That's part of the psychological torture of it all, having to pick and choose the details of your suffering, the way your heart pounds and the way you whimper and sob and the fact that you've never seen him look quite so giddy, as if high on the very notions of your pain. There's one he can do on his own, though. Have you ever seen the scars of someone who's been struck by lightning? They're pretty. He thinks something like that would look so nice etched out on your skin. Unfortunately you'd have to be shocked a couple of times for several seconds at a time to be permanent, but he'll give you something to bite down on if you'd like.

If you don't like that, he can brand you the old-fashioned way with a fire and iron. It would take a bit longer, and he'll very intentionally drag out the process. What kind of design do you want? There's a few. Do you want it on your front or your back? Left side or right? Chest, shoulders, hips? You should be grateful, he's here giving you options and you're just sitting there blubbering? If you don't hurry up and answer, he'll just have to give you more than one.

Or if both of those options aren't good enough, there's another alternative. Carving into you like a piece of meat. It could be his name, or a design, maybe. He could write it down your thigh. Across your stomach. On your chest. Don't worry, he's cut into enough people to know how to not to go too deep, just on the surface is enough to scar.

Speaking of not going to deep, notably, he will never actually do anything that puts your life at risk, or impacts your... health? Obviously the pain and scars aren't healthy, but to elaborate, he won't starve you, and he won't choke you beyond the point of blacking out. If he does cut you, it's with you so heavily restrained you cannot move in any capacity -- no chance of you thrashing and making it go too deep, gags you so you don't accidentally bite into your tongue and bleed out. He's actually... oddly vigilant about making sure he doesn't accidentally kill you.

He also won't isolate you, well, not physically. This is more for him than you, although he won't say so, he doesn't like you being physically out of his sight or away from him. Instead, he gives you... emotional isolation, tells you not to speak to him, pretends you're not there, won't respond to you calling out to him. It's actually a bit more hurtful in a way, but you'll never get the whole "locked alone in a room for a week without contact" punishment that some yanderes pull. He's too needy for that.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

You see, it's your fault. Even if it isn't.

No, it really doesn't matter what you did or didn't do, it's still your fault that someone else shows you attention. You probably seduced them somehow, looked at them with those lustful eyes when he wasn't looking, or you held your body in a way that people would look at. So, it's ultimately your fault, and you will get punished for it, but although you are the root cause, you're not the worst offender -- the other party is still far, far worse.

Because by now anyone should know better. You'd have to be stupid or just have a death wish, because realistically everyone will look the other way if he quite literally kills a low-rank.

And to be fair, he might actually be wrong. He's actually really paranoid about this, and he takes the slightest of things and blows them out of proportion. Maybe that guy that he says looked at you the wrong way wasn't even looking at you at all. He imagines things and will definitely at some point accuse someone completely innocent of something they didn't do. Or he might be right, they did look at you, speak to you, but it was just a glance, just a simple question, but that doesn't matter. They still did it (and you, you probably encouraged it, didn't you?).

If you are the one saying it, though, complaining about sexual harassment from one of the guards or something, well, then he's more brutal, and doesn't hold anything back. He will, simply, kill them. No life-ruining, no framing for crimes, he's actually very direct and simple when it comes to rivalry because who needs indirect methods when you have enough status to just off the bastard?

Now, if it's someone from back home, a boyfriend or such that you keep whining about, because he doesn't know what happened to me! He's probably worried! Fine. He agrees to send people to inform him of what happened, he says, he promises he'll get them to tell him what happened to you, after all it's not like the guy could do anything about it. He feigns irritation at best, rolls his eyes, but inside it actually sets him off like nothing else. Eats him alive inside. He's right here and here you are droning on about some guy who doesn't matter? To his face?

Well, it's not as if he doesn't... understand why you're not exactly happy here. It's a dilemma that he has, which we'll touch on later, that he kinda does sometimes wish you were happy and did like him, but he also realizes that pretty much everything he does is counterproductive to that. Still, this is one of those times he wishes for it. Gets childishly pouty to anyone else interacting with him, in a bad mood all day because how dare you have someone else you care about. He wants you to show that kind of concern for him.

And, although it's even more counterproductive to the possibility of you ever liking him, he decides to do something very, very spiteful. He changes his mind and says actually, he'll arrange it so that you get to see the guy. Bites his tongue and twitches at how your face lights up, but then you you have the nerve to ask if he's joking. No, he says, he's serious, it'll take a while to fetch him though. It warms your heart. Maybe he has, you know, the capacity for empathy after all. When you get called over in a few days, because he says he has something for you, you think it's that, but no, it seems to be something else. You've been good, he says, so he got you something.

A gift, in a box and everything. Go on, open it. He got it just for you. It was hard to obtain, there's only one in the world. Oh, but sit down first. You might pass out from excitement.

You don't like the happy look on his face, the light-hearted tone in his voice, it's all too uncharacteristic, and you run through possibilities, none of them good. You pick it up and you're fairly certain you know, you shake a little bit and tears start to fill your eyes, and you really don't want to open the box, but at the same time, you have to know.

He's smart about it, and takes your well-being into account, because he cares, you know? That's why he got you to sit down, if you'd been standing, see, you would have passed out and fallen and maybe hurt yourself. This way you just slump over and drop the box when you black out. That was somewhat expected, most people pass out when they see the disembodied head of a loved one, and you're no exception. You got blood on the floor when you drop it, but it was worth seeing the look on your face. Alright, well, you got what you wanted, you got to see him. See? He wasn't lying, he followed through on the promise.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Very, very easy to piss off. You often do it so unintentionally, without even knowing that the action is something that will set him off, that the reactions catch you off-guard. The actual anger varies depending on his mood that day -- some days, it's just snarling and berating, looking at you with disgust and barking at you about how stupid you are, threatening you with this or that, ultimately forcing you to apologize just to get him to leave you alone and stop being mean. He likes to feel above you, so a lot of the time he'll say something isn't worth his time getting truly angry over, and wave his hand after a few minutes and tell you to not speak to him again until he says you can. Other times, if he's in an especially bad mood, he can get kinda physically violent, throwing things, grabbing you by the hair or clothes to get in your face, pulling your hair, kneeing you in the stomach.

He can be incredibly childish and immature about offenses -- even long after the loud and explosive angry tantrum is over, he'll be passive-aggressive for a while, and is incapable of just letting it go. He brings it up over, and over, and over, like an actual child that wants to wallow in bitterness and make you feel sorry for him. This is less of an active anger, it's more pouty, but still spoken with narrowed eyes and a disgusted glare.

Also, when he's exceptionally angry, it's one of the few times he might act... not so. When he gets furious, for a few moments he'll snap into the "fake" personality we've seen in him -- smiles and laughs a bit, begins his sentence with a light hearted, saccharine tone that, by now, you know means you have severely fucked up, and you tremble and step backwards. You cower, but he grabs you by the hair, shirt, chin, anything, and his voice gets lower and lower, the smile slowly drops, until he just explodes, furiously snarling at you and pulls your hair, backhands you a few times, shoves you to the ground, before dragging you away by the hair or the shirt to go over your real punishment.

Now, there's anger, and then there's rage. He gets mad easily. He blows up, he yells, he does his little transition from smiley to mad, but if he's at the absolute upper limit of anger, he gets surprisingly... quiet. Quiet and calm. It's actually unlikely that this anger will ever be directed towards darling, as there's not really anything you can do to make him this upset. If you witness it, it's likely in the form of someone else trying to hurt you, or the aforementioned rivals. And that's an insult to him, you know? You're his property. It makes him completely blind with rage. And, the unspoken aspect of it, is that if someone is genuinely after you, the idea of you being killed or taken away terrifies him because he needs you, deep down.

This rare rage, again, (seemingly) calm and quiet, is very straightforward. The offender is staked to the ground straight through, don't worry, he can do it without hitting internal organs. And then, well, tortured to death. He's an expert in the art of pushing the limits of keeping a human being alive as long as possible. Oh, don't go anywhere. He'd like you to watch. If it's someone trying to hurt you, well, they deserve to see the reason they're dying, and if it's someone you gave your attention or affection to, he wants you to see the consequences of your choices on others, remember, it's your fault this happened, you likely enticed them. If it's that, he'll make sure you're involved. Give you choices. What would you like to see go first, a finger or the tongue?

Another little quirk is that he always has to express anger physically, even when he knows not to -- which isn't too often, but sometimes he has to accept that subordinates will be stupid and that he can't always kick them in the face for it. So when he's just in a bad mood, he gets twitchy from the need to exert physical violence. Grabs at the edge of the table with trembly hands, breaks writing utensils in half, pulls at his hair and digs his fingernails into his arms. Once you're there, though, he can take out the anger on you, unfortunately, like a living stress ball. When it's anger at other people, though, he tends to take that anger out not by hurting you, but rather, finds... other rough ways to expend some energy and exert some physical force.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

What do you think?

Yeah, there's not a whole lot to say here. He's a massive narcissist, everyone is beneath him. However... notably, although he wouldn't say it out loud, he still sees you as being above other people, even though that in and of itself is a narcissistic thought process -- you have value, because you have value to him. You are important because he has deemed you important. And other people, he has deemed unimportant, worthless. You have worth... because he's decided you do. Because he has the utmost worth, so, he's just bestowing some of his own worth on you -- it's an act of benevolence, really.

And, well, as you can imagine, this attitude is very much reflected in his behavior. And, one way or another, itwill be reflected in your behavior, too.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

You might be surprised, but he actually... does try.

For someone who essentially makes your life hell, there are times where his mind starts thinking and drifting off because of some boring meeting or the like, or he's watching you go about whatever you're doing and thinks... you know, maybe it would be nice if you actually liked him. The first few times, he quickly shoves away the thought, but it starts popping into his head every now and then. Maybe the worship would be a lot better if you had adoration in your eyes instead of fear and tears. Honestly, it's still selfishly motivated, because he just thinks of how it would benefit him if you loved him, but he starts to like the idea nonetheless. And he can think of a way to make it happen. If he becomes determined to carry this out, it would be a little while into the "relationship," maybe a year or so.

He knows it won't come naturally. You need help. So, mindbreak it is.

It's not as if you're not already well on your way to mindbreak with the general way he already is, but there are certainly some things to be done that can speed up the process. Ultimately, the key to breaking you into loving him is making you need him, to make you think he's better than others, and to balance out the cruelties. The way to do this is to make you terrified of everything else, and present himself as a protection from that.

He'll arrange for accidents to occur that he can save you from -- gets an underling to pretend to break in and abduct you or the like so he can chase them off, sets a trap that nearly hurts you only to snatch you away from it.

The second tactic is to make himself seem better than your alternatives. He'll find a way -- it goes without saying he's not the only harbinger with a toy. He exaggerates how awful the others' are -- you know, that one's little toy has no arms or legs, they ripped them off. Bet you're glad he hasn't done that to you, huh? And that one only feeds their pet once a week, you get to eat normal meals every day. He finds ways to make it believable, maybe even get the others to support his claims (they gotta help each other out, you know?). You start to feel like maybe you should be a little more grateful.

And finally, it doesn't come easy but... he decides he can maybe (maybe! Don't you go getting used to this, you know) ...be nice. A word of praise here or there. The first time you hear a word of praise, you think you've gone insane, look up at him with wide eyes, and he just what, you want me to *not* say that? and you insist no no it's fine, it's fine! And as much as you wish it didn't, it makes you feel... warm inside. Good. You feel like you want more.

At the same time, you know what that means -- it's not hard to figure out that it's intentional, really, you know that, and he knows you know. You know why he's doing this. You know what the intended outcome is, and that you're falling for it perfectly. You know that your internal response means you're beginning to slip, to lose it, but... maybe that wouldn't be so bad. To put up a fight, to resist it? What good does that do, really? Your pride is already shattered and you're just going to make yourself more miserable.

Yes, if you let it happen, maybe you will finally be at ease. Resistance just makes things worse. So maybe acceptance will make things better. Maybe if you start working for the niceness and avoiding the meanness, trying to be good, trying to earn the niceness... maybe it would make you... happy. Maybe you really can love him. So eventually... you'll let go.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

He does love you, in his own way, but it's impossible for you to understand. This is where we get into the idea of sadism as love. True sadistic love is a rare thing even in yandere, and it's difficult to describe - for him, the degree of cruelty bestowed unto you IS, in a way, his way of "love." He has no idea how to express affection any other way, but it is, genuinely, caused by affection, even though he himself doesn't quite realize it, doesn't quite understand the feeling that's making him want to hurt you. Sure, his cruelty is partially a defense mechanism, a little bit of that tsundere side, but it's also something innate, instinctive. The natural reaction to the feeling of fondness is to hurt the object of that fondness. When he becomes fond of a person, he wants to harm them. He can't say why, and he doesn't exactly care why. He thinks you look pretty when you cry. When your face twists up in pain and your lip trembles, that's your most beautiful. It makes him feel powerful. In the same way a lot of people feel powerful over making their beloved cum or feel pleasure, that's how he is with pain. Well, he likes to inflict both actually, preferably at the same time.

To truly, completely own you means to be your whole world -- responsible for every bit of pleasure, pain, happiness, misery, he wants to be the cause of all of those things. Other people hurting you and making you cry makes him just as mad as other people making you smile or feel happy. They're both the same offense -- they're both trying to take away some of that ownership, some of that power. While he might utilize others harming you to his benefit, it still makes his blood boil -- not just in a "you're hurting someone I love" way, but in a "I'm the only one supposed to hurt them" way.

============================

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

It changes gradually with time. At first, surprisingly somewhat reserved, and even more easily embarrassed, gets red in the face and shifts uncomfortably over certain topics. Doesn't mean he won't fuck you, but will be kind of cold and distant about it at first, not saying much, too embarrassed to call you nasty names and say degrading things.

(Un)fortunately for you, that changes pretty quickly, as the more confident and used to you he becomes, the more he's willing to indulge in the things that sound so nice in his head. Ok, so maybe the collar is a fetish thing, which you accused him of at the very beginning but he adamantly denied. So what? You clearly get off to it, so don't go around calling him a pervert for it.

He's in this odd middle ground where once he's actually horny and initiating it, he can get gross, and is very touchy almost all the time, but if sex comes up as a conversational topic when it's not actually occurring, he gets flustered about it, especially if you're the one to bring it up. Outside of specifically you, it's an absolute no. He's the kind of person to get outwardly disgusted at the slightest mention of the most vanilla and hand-hold-y of sexual things, or even just retch when seeing people get non-sexually romantic and loving, when hearing it from other people and tell them to shut up or get out of his sight, but at the same time is having you on a collar and leash in a workplace setting and forcing everyone around him to just tolerate that. Don't question it.

That being said, the "actually horny and initiating it" part is a frequent occurrence -- for someone who seems somewhat reserved, it's still incredibly often, almost always several times a day, and that's just actual intercourse, not counting all of the little degrading acts and words throughout the day. You'll be sore for sure.

And the touchiness is honestly partially neediness. He's touch-starved. Half the time, sure it's sexual, but it's also... nice. You're warm. Feeling your skin is comforting. He won't say that it's partially non-sexual, but sometimes will, without even consciously realize it, rest his head on your shoulder when you're sitting in his lap or the like.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

It's better without, actually.

Of course, over time you'll learn better -- you'll learn you were just being stubborn at the time, that you should have been grateful, that it was what you wanted deep down -- but at the time, your fear is cute too.

That being said, once you reach the mindbroken state -- once you're enthusiastic, love in your eyes, bouncing up and down on his cock and thanking him for every second of it -- he has to admit that's pretty nice, too. He can enjoy it either way in the end -- whether you have that adoration and willingness, or if you don't.

The only thing he won't tolerate is if you pull the silent treatment -- trying to stay silent and now show anything on your face in an attempt to not give him the satisfaction of your reactions. Which is easily fixable. It's really not a good idea for you, because it will just make him worse in order to finally draw out some sounds.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Orgasm denial/control/ruining

It's humiliating and funny at the same time, nice. But seriously, he likes to make you beg. It's nice to see you accept your place and do what you're supposed to, to openly acknowledge how little control you have.

And denial is great too, especially combined with edging. After a few days of the torture of not getting to cum, you'll finally be willing to throw your pride away and truly, truly beg, offering to do anything, and words spilling out of your mouth unprompted that you think he'd like to hear, and that's the best part, seeing the filthy things your mind can come up with to appease him enough to let you cum -- and they will be brought up later. Hey, remember when you said you would do this or that when you were begging to cum? About time to follow through right?

But if you haven't been so great, there's one thing better. Getting your hopes up and just barely letting you reach the high before pulling away completely. Your little eyes widen and you spasm and you rock your body in a desperate attempt for friction and sensation, but you're held down as the orgasm dies before ever reaching a peak. Sometimes you get so miserable about it you cry, which isn't great as it just fuels the desire to ruin it again.

And if you're so desperate to get off at any time, once you've been edged a few days, you can earn permission to either ride his thigh or get on the floor and rut into his leg until you cum. No using your hands. If you can't get off to humping like that, you don't get off. And be sure to thank him for the graciousness of allowing you to do so.

Public Humiliation

Once he gets more confident, he tells you you're going to start coming to meetings with him. He hates leaving you alone with guards he doesn't fully trust, so you'll just go too. At first you're ecstatic. This means you can finally get out of the lingerie and into real clothes, right?

And then you see the look on his face and realize what's actually happening, and it makes your blood run cold. You can fight it, but in the end you're going to be dragged by a leash in front of a room full of people on your hands and knees. If you've been relatively bad, you'll just sit at his feet, but if you're good, you get to sit up on his lap, nice and pretty so that everyone can see. He's just too possessive enough that you won't go naked, but the clothing of choice will certainly not be something you would ever, ever want to be seen in.

Oh, they give out water at these meetings. He grabs your chin and tells you he'll let you have some if you open your mouth, and you're thirsty so you do -- so he takes a swig of it and spits it into your mouth. And if you want any more, you'll have to take it the same way.

People are watching -- and you know people are watching. He's still slightly too awkward to want to be the center of attention (let's be real, there's probably fucked up things going on all over these meetings, others probably bring theirs too), but people cast glances, people smirk and chuckle at your humiliation and misery. And people envy him. You're so cute. He knows that, and he loves the power rush that comes with that knowledge. And you? Well, you don't want to throw a fit or cry in front of people -- not only would it be humiliating, but you fear the consequences, so you sit and squirm and whimper.

He's not one to start talking to others so much, though. Some yans into publicly humiliating you will make a spectacle of it, talking to the others and verbally, loudly showing you off, jeering at you and talking about you like you can't understand them (example being a certain hydro likely in the same room), but, well, honestly he just doesn't like the others well enough to speak with them unless necessary to begin with, so he actually just kind of glares and snarls at anyone that tries to interact. Again, not the center of attention, he prefers to remain a little more in the background, talking to you, soaking up your misery and beaming with pride over the glances people cast.

D/S dynamic - master/slave + petplay + humiliation + worship

If we're being honest it's more of a "this is your life now" than a dynamic. It's not that you pretend to be or act as a slave, you are one. And it's better if you accept that, really. No matter what, you say thank you after everything you get, be it rewards, punishment, anything really. And he likes to go out of his way to test the limits of that. See how far he can break down your pride before you refuse to give your proper thanks, so that he knows the limit of where he needs to start breaking you down more.

And it's whenever, wherever -- you're free use, basically, but also just tests your obedience and submission by random acts of sadism. Calls you over and tells you to get on your hands and knees so he can use you as a footrest, and you'll stay that way for a while. Grabs your jaw and tells you to open your mouth at complete random to spit in your mouth and tells you to swallow. After you grind on his leg until you cum as aforementioned, you got gross slick all over his shoes and the floor, so lick it up. Smiles at you and tells you hey, come here a sec and gives you a good backhand across the face. And what do you say? You know the answer - thank you Master. Is any of it necessary? No. But he enjoys it. It reminds you of your place, and your thanks is a measure to prove your loyalty. And he's not heartless, he'll tell you you're good for it. You start to look forward to that.

But the leash is another thing -- it ties onto your collar and he uses it to make sure you can't go too far. More importantly, uses it to pull you around and tells you good pets don't walk on two legs, they walk on four -- so you'll do the same and crawl on your hands and knees whenever he feels like it.

But worship is the best thing, really. As much as he likes doing things to you, you should be eager to show your love and gratefulness, too, which in his mind comes mostly in the form of riding him until your legs give out and deepthroating cock until you nearly black out. It would be much appreciated.

Anal sex + throatfucking

If we're being honest, it's just cute to watch you squeal and squirm. You whimper because it hurts, it feels weird in a way you're not used to, and when he cums inside your poor ass you can physically feel it and it feels so, so gross, leaking out and running down your legs. But it's better if it's by surprise, switching holes when you're not expecting it and listening to you squeak and jolt and try to pull yourself off, to listen to you beg and plead. It's adorable, really. And it makes for a good punishment that will definitely get you to behave if getting your poor ass stretched out is the threat you're dealing with. It's all cute, how you can't stand up to walk after, how you twitch and cry, and it's better if you can cum while he's fucking you because then that means you clearly enjoy it.

And your throat, too, watching your eyes tear up and feeling your throat instinctively spasm as your gag reflex kicks in. It goes pretty far down your throat, you definitely can't breathe, so you grab at his thighs and desperately try to pull off, but to no avail. And he likes making threats out of that too - when he cums down your throat, if you spill so much as a single drop of it, you won't be able to sit right for a week.

It's also nice to combine the two -- telling you so make sure you suck good and get it coated in your spit, because it's the only lube you're going to get. You have the most adorable reaction, eyes widening with fear and immediately getting to work on making sure you follow through.

Cockwarming

Eventually, as he gets more used to your presence in his workspace, and you've proven you know how to sit still without being an obnoxious nuisance, he'll decide you can help him alleviate boredom on days where there's not much to be done other than papers and the occasional subordinate coming in to be spoken to. Good thing the desk you sit at has a front to it. You're either down on your knees with cock in your mouth, or more often just sitting on his lap. The thing is that if it's that, you're dealing with cock inside you the entire time. Don't think about squirming around, it earns you a slap to the thigh and being told to stop moving so much. Are you really such an insatiable slut that you can't hold still just because you're that desperate to get off? Maybe if there's no one around you can get railed into the desk, but that doesn't mean you get to take it out -- you'll go right back so sitting the way you were before.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Eh, he kinda goes both ways, back and forth. The issue is that the side that thinks he might want a kid is entirely delusional, he has absolutely no idea how difficult or involved having a kid actually is, he just thinks of some... creature he thinks he can copy+paste his ideals and values and worldview onto, like a protege, an heir. Another thing is he somehow does not realize why combining himself and a child with a copy+paste personality is a recipe for disaster. Honestly, he would NOT be a good father, you would be doing 99.99% of the work while he just occasionally trains them and other stuff that he actually likes doing... the rest would be your job. So, realistically, you should hope and pray he doesn't decide he wants one.

Which is unlikely, because he also realizes that kids are a distraction, time consumption, they take up your time and attention and energy. Your time and attention and energy are essentially his property, because you are, so why would he willingly give that up? No, he's not about to watch you tire yourself out over some stupid kid and have none for him, you'd probably use tiredness as an excuse to not fuck or something, can't have that. It's... not like he likes your attention or anything... it's just that he deserves all of it and no one else does.

That being said, he is a key member of the "what the fuck is protection" club, so, it might happen anyway.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

A better question would be what kind does he NOT use. The full spectrum of ideas is there, he mockingly kinda takes pride in the creativity. He prefers some to others, though. Less frequent ones include overstimulation and sexualization of electro torture -- light shocks to the most sensitive parts of your body, it's more fun the second time and onwards, because you tremble in fearful anticipation, desperately try to squirm away.

More frequently is just, well, the classic way, beating your ass. It's easy, quick, humiliating, and it proves a point. Spankings are incredibly common for the slightest of offenses, beating you red and raw for a defiant look or a word out of place. If you whine that it's unfair because what you did wasn't that bad, well, that just adds on more. He's the type to keep something laying around, invest in a rubber paddle or a leather strap and keep it somewhere visible, somewhere you can see it, as just a constant reminder, a threat looming over your head.

And as aforementioned, another frequent one is the threat of fucking your throat or ass or both. It leaves you sore for a long time, the taste of cum down your throat, the feeling of cum leaking out of your holes, not to mention the discomfort of the sensations themselves, potentially pain, if done roughly -- and you do not want him to be rough about it, so, be on your best behavior.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Tits, but more specifically nipples. They're so sensitive. If he touches or sucks on them you squirm and moan, but if he pinches and pulls them or bites down on them hard enough, it makes you jolt and squeal, and that's a very nice reaction, really.

Also, nipple clamps. He makes heavy use of them and will also tug on it pretty harshly to get your attention.

===========================

#atml #yandere genshin impact

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otptings · 3 years

Text

Studio Time

w/Mark Lee

-fluff, use of dude a lot (it’s Mark), suggestive smut (studio head (f receiving))

I am seriously lacking with fluff in my daily life so enjoy this. Pure fluff, all centered around Mark Lee (I lied it ended up not being pure fluff) first time writing smut so I apologize it’s not that good

I stared at my boyfriend, amazed by how lucky I got. However annoyance was the emotion that truly stood out in this moment. Standing in the doorway of the studio he was currently in, I listened to Mark work on lyrics for a new Dream song. Their first full album was coming out, and ever since Mark was put back in Dream he was incredibly nervous.

Mark works hard. That is a well known fact. He has a lot of expectations on his shoulders. He’s an amazing singer, dancer, and rapper. Awkward Canadian when off stage to the amazing confident person he is on stage. Mark works harder than he needs to keep up with all of the expectations.

He wakes up and goes to the studio, then goes to the practice room to work on his dancing for a few more hours. Even when he is back at the dorms, I'll be laying on his bed while listening to him work on more songs, and more lyrics. He’s so busy with the album and both comebacks that he barely has time for me. That’s not even including all of the Dream, and 127 YouTube videos that they’ve been posting.

That’s why I'm here. Outside of his studio. Holding a bag full of fried chicken, kimchi stew, and some drinks. All of Mark’s favorite food. I know that when Mark is intensely working he tends to forget to take care of himself. Physically, emotionally and mentally. He refuses to take a break until the comeback is successfully over, but by then a new comeback is in the works.

It breaks my heart to see him working himself so hard. I know that this a dog eats dog world but I wish that for once he would see it from my point of view, and take a break, even if it’s only for 1 millisecond. That way I wouldn’t have to see the bags under his eyes, or hear about his diet and how he needs to stop eating so much. (In his mind that means to not eat at all to make sure he stays in shape which constantly has me on the verge of ripping my hair out)

Knocking on the door I watched as Mark’s head turned towards me quickly, out of shock.

“Babe? What are you doing here dude?” Walking over to him I pulled his chair away from the table and turned it so it was facing the couch. Placing the food down I sat down beside it and started to open everything.

“Forcing you to take a break. You need to eat, I don’t like watching my boyfriend waste away.” For once instead of fighting me, Mark just allowed me to nag at him. After fixing his plate up, I handed it to him and saw him looking at me with a dopey smile. “What?”

Mark shook his head before stuffing some of the stew in his mouth. “I really love you.” I felt my ears heat up, and looked down. Grabbing another plate I started to serve myself before realizing that Mark had already finished half of his plate.

“See. You’re hungry. I hate when you get like this Mark.” Staring down at my plate I felt all of my worried thoughts come to the forefront of my brain. We have this conversation every comeback, and I will never get tired of it, only because I know he’ll listen for awhile but forget about it by the next comeback. I would repeat myself over, over, and over again if it meant that Mark was taking care of himself.

Me and Mark sat in silence, quietly listening to the beat that he was working on replaying itself automatically after it finished. After we finished eating I started placing everything back in the bag. When I stood up to leave though Mark grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. Wrapping his arms around my waist he stared at me with the same dopey smile from earlier.

“I really love you dude. So much.”

“I love you too Mark,” Mark sat down on the couch pulling me down with him. Straddling his lap I felt my face heat up again from our position. No matter how long Mark and I have been together I still get butterflies every time we do anything remotely intimate, “What’s got you so touchy feely all of a sudden?”

“ Dude, I have a beautiful girl, who loves me enough to make me take a break and take care of myself when I haven’t seen her in a while.” Mark pouted at his last sentence I moved my hand up to play in his hair. Lifting his chin up to me I gave him another kiss.

“Because I care about you, and I know you’re busy. It’s okay.” Suddenly Marked flipped our positions so I was laying on the couch with him hovering overtop of me. My eyes went wide as I realized this and I let out a nervous laugh after how the mood changed from sweet, to something more. Something way more intimate, and nasty.

One of Mark’s hand held him up, while his other held a grip on my waist. Mark leaned down and connected our lips this time for much longer. I wrapped my arms around his neck forcing him to just put his weight on me as I spread my legs to give him space in-between them. I sighed into the case as I felt him start to grind into me slowly. I bit Mark’s lip making him groan and open his mouth allowing my tongue in. Our tongues moved together slowly, despite how needy we were getting. I could taste the sweet juice that we drank earlier, from me or from him I don’t know.

I felt Mark’s hand slide to the top of my sweatpants before he pulled back from the kiss. Quickly sliding my pants down he turned me so he was in between my legs as he knelt on the floor. Mark laid kisses down my thighs, towards my pussy, before skipping over it and going to my thigh. Whining I ran my fingers through his hair trying to get him to get the message, he ignored me and bit down into my thigh causing me to gasp from shock more than the pain.

“Stop teasing, please Mark.” Finally listening to me, Mark looked up at me keeping eye contact as he finally gave me some attention where I needed it. I gasped as his tongue licked up towards my clit slowly, bordering on tortuous. After the first slow lick Mark swirled his tongue around my clit and I couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. Thank god for the sound proofing.

Mark was good at everything. We’ve already established that. I meant everything. Mr. Mork was amazing in bed, especially with his tongue. Rappers you know. Mark also wasn’t the same one that you would see in the videos. The awkward one, that laughed at everything. Disappeared completely whenever we got intimate. He was amazing, and he was also a tease.

As soon as the first moan left my lips, Mark went to suck on my completely ignoring my moans, and the way I pulled his hair. Releasing my clit he went back to licking my pussy while his thumb ran over my clit. My legs instinctively tried to close but Mark held them open with his other hand. His grip tightened on my leg to keep me from closing them again. I felt my eyes roll back when he switch his position again and went back to sucking on clit harshly while his fingers finally slide into my opening. The harsh gasp that left my lips as I felt the fire in my stomach growing bigger.

Looking down at Mark I saw him looking back at me, lust shining brightly in his eyes while my essence was all over his chin. At that sinful visual I felt myself cum with Mark’s name on my lips. I felt my thighs shake from my orgasm. Mark stood up helping me redress as I lay slightly boneless. Mark moved us so that I was laying on top.

“What about you?” I mumbled feeling myself starting to doze off already. Mark laughed before rubbing my cheek, and kissing me on my forehead.

“I’m good that was a thank you for always being caring. Take a nap I’ll lay with you, then when you wake up we’ll go home okay?” I nodded my head before allowing myself to doze off. God I loved him and his studio time.

#Mark lee #nct mark lee #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct fluff #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #Kpop smut #kpop fluff #dream fluff #dream smut #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct 127 mark lee #nct dream mark lee #lee.minhyung #lee minhyung

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reawritesthings · 4 years

Text

Rooftop | JJ. Maybank

gif by @rudypankows

Summary: When Sarah forces the pogues to go to a Kook party, JJ dips early and notices you on the roof, reading peacefully.

Words: 2.6K

A/N: Thank you all for the support on my other fics, it really means a lot to see the love you give me. If you like me to write for anyone, please send me an ask! thank you all again🦆

☼☼☼☼

"WHY are we even here?" JJ's exasperated tone of words sent the Pogue's including Sarah to eye roll.

"I would much rather be on my couch watching Monster Inc." JJ's childish tone evaporated around the North Carolina frightful breeze that lure them further into the land of predators.

Sarah huffed not wanting to row with the blonde beauty. She frankly understood his anti's of not wanting to prey on the sharks or even share the same air with them, but, Sarah was still a Kook and JJ needed to accept that.

"J, we can just head in there for an hour... drink their alcohol and leave." John B proposed letting his athletic, sternly hands fumble his way into Sarah's palm gifting her with a reassuring squeeze.

JJ's mind was like a cymbal-banging monkey toy that only worked when the indigo eye boy was frustrated and needed leverage, "We are about to attend John B's girlfriend ex-boyfriend's house party because Sarah's ex-boyfriend invited her, and only her." JJ dramatically paused to reminded everyone how fucked up this particular mission is.

"And, here we are, the pogues forcefully dragged by Topper's ex-girlfriend to attend this disgraceful party that could end in two possible ways.."

"Enlighten us." Pope's static tone of sarcasm intrigued JJ to finish his perfectly thought out rant.

"A fight breaks out, or Rafe loses his shit." JJ's arm folded whilst a devilish smile grew onto his bruised porcelain face that everyone admired about the surfer.

"I hate to agree with Scobby but he has a point." Pope's loyalty to JJ never failed him.

Kie and Sarah kept moving forward, dragging their danity flipflops through the frozen golden grains of the earth that held the rich side in place. Being the only two girls of the group they were used to the constant complaints from the men.

"Next time, I'll just invite you Kie." Sarah muttered under her minty breathe. Kiara only nodded in agreement reaching for the handle to enter the shark's den.

"Best behaviour," Kie announced immediately locking eyes with JJ who was infatuated with the silhouette of another human.

"Can't make any promises, Kie." He winked as his eyes were still glued to the frame of darkness that interlocked with his mind that he should be up there and not here.

"Here we go..." Sarah murmured under her breath. "What could possibly go wrong?" Kie shot her eyes back to Sarah who only swung the door opened to be slammed with harsh tones coming from the stereo.

Topper was known for throwing the most extravagant house parties. The music was as loud as thunder; it made the empty beer bottle rattle. Neon lights that were glued to the white walls flashed everywhere like police sirens, but with much more inviting colours.

Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. Topper, Rafe and Kelce were chatting up some ladies as there vision was blinded by a bunch of Pogues roaming around like cockroaches.

"What are they doing here?" Kelce mumbled against the illuminated ruby plastic cup that Rafe already broke through his rage.

"Topper is still whipped for my sister." Rafe truthfully announce, causing the blonde short skirted girl to loose interest in his friend.

"Thanks man." Topper's eye rolled extended further as he noticed John B clutching his arm around Sarah's frame, like he used too.

"Anytime." Rafe smirked pulling Kelce's bright yellow polo shirt towards him to confront the intruders. Topper soon joined, staying behind Rafe as he didn't want his perfectly structured face to be bruised.

"What are you rugrats doing here? You aren't allow to be on our turf." Rafe spat not even making eye contact with his younger sister whose frame was hidden behind John B's and JJ.

"We got invited. We just came here to get a little drunk and we will be on our way." JJ broke the silence, squaring up to Rafe's face.

"Don't make me bust your other eye, Maybank." Rafe threatened, clenching his palms ready for another battle.

"Wouldn't dream of it." JJ took Kelce's red cup from his hand drowning the stinging sensation that drew him away from the crowd.

"Where you going?" Pope shrieked as he didn't feel comfortable being left with John B, he wasn't exactly scary like JJ.

"Washroom. I'll be back." JJ reassured his best friend, whose hand was tightly gripped to Kiara's whose face wasn't enjoying the sensation sound of Topper's music taste.

JJ's curiosity always managed to get himself into trouble, whether he was looking for it or not. His mind was reverted back to the shadow of a young female who was on the roof. He knew he shouldn't be preying around Topper's house but, he would of regretted not knowing who that girl was.

His tiny frame ran smoothly around the second floor, each creak that he created with his ripped combat boots made him squint, he noticed a slight acute door open slightly with a streak of light hitting the wooden floors.

The bedroom was furnished on a expensive budget according to the serval layers of blankets that were freshly pressed on the double bed. A messy pile of book were scattered across the white carpet that was caressed with a circular rug that was neatly combed.

He looked up at the walls, admiring the pictures that were taken on a film camera.

"Whose's this girl?" JJ thought as he circled the room, slowly resting his palm on the slik sheets wishing he could have a room like this.

Since JJ was in a trance of what his life was like if he was Kook, he was startled by a soft tune of a sneeze coming from the windowsill. His intrigue body motioned away from the bed, heading towards the half adjecent window that his mysterious girl was resident.

JJ's instincts were never wrong when he assumed the shadow of a girl on the high roof. His head turned towards you, your fully eclipsed body was tainted with a summer dress that fit well on your skin. Under his brief gaze on your exposed skin, you didn't flinch or withdraw from your book. Your shape was already forming into womanhood, yet you were roughly the same age as Sarah: Your twin brother's ex-girlfriend. You revert your attention out of the flood of flowing words and focused them on him, he was something out of a novel you read once.

Dashing, adventurous and fearless. You were polite and offered him a seat next to you, letting the moon expose your vulnerable side which JJ instantly stole as he gently brushes his shoulder against your own.

JJ eccentric side was displayed out in the open and didn't hesitate to make the first move. "What's a pretty girl like you doing on a roof?"

You sauntered in, feeling provocative whilst you brushed your hair from your dainty shoulders, letting his kindly eager cornflower eyes follow your movement.

"I'm not really into the whole drinking vibe... My brother on the other hand is." JJ's pupils grew larger as he pieced the puzzle together, he knew he wasn't the smartest earthling on the island but he just couldn't see the resemblance between you and your brother.

"How is that possible?... Topper has a sister?... Why didn't Sarah mention anything?"

You personally thought his reaction wouldn't be inviting but, his reaction to the news lured you in more like he was siren calling for you. "Well, when my parents had Topper... they decided to conceive again, making me."

JJ nudged you chuckling at your comeback, "I know how sex works. I'm a Maybank."

"Noted." You candid staring at the apex of the deep sliver circle that brought the both of you together.

A heavy silence evaporated over them, thicker than the mucky air making the tension more uncomfortable. Both of your eyes glanced unceremoniously around turning to avoid catching each other glances that happened in the space of a minute.

"What you reading?" JJ noticed an earthy hued of brown colours stuck to her embrace which JJ gazed forced him to stare to create a new conversation.

"Charles Dickens, Great Expectations." He noticed your awkward zoned face shape into a curious, cheeky smile that he first noticed when he intruded.

"Cool. I don't read but Charles Dickens is a great man. One of the best lads out there, wonder what he is doing now?" JJ wondered having no idea that he is in fact six feet under.

You burst out a giggle with a sentiment rosy colour appeared on your cheeks, "Hate to break it to you but the lad is dead. He has been dead for centuries."

JJ was perplexed by your statement. He generally thought he was still alive due to Pope always speaking about him as if he was a local. "I knew that. I was testing your knowledge on Charlie."

You chuckled playing along with his shenanigans but you would be lying to yourself that you weren't intrigued in the fact that he was sitting here when he was supposed to be downstairs. "How comes you are up here? I thought Pogues loved a good party, especially if there's alcohol."

JJ shrugged darting his eyes to meet yours, "Don't take it personally but I'm not a fan of Kooks, especially Topper and his gang."

And this, you thought was going to be the end of your story with the blonde boy. You weren't shocked that he degraded your brother and his friends, you understood the reason.

"I get that. If it makes you feel better, I don't exactly agree with their rules and how they treat you guys. You deserve the same respect we get because one day, Shakesphere's novel of Romeo and Juliet might come true and, I personally don't want to kill myself..." You flirted in a way which the boy would probably take days, in fact, months to work out the metaphor.

"Does that make me Remi?" JJ joked as he kind of liked the way your nose scrunched when he didn't understand literature.

"It's Romeo..." You corrected him again.

"I know. I just wanted to see that little nose scrunch you do when I mess up."

You were stunned that he paid attention to little things about you. It wasn't every day that someone would paid attention to Topper's sister, especially a Pogue. You could sense that he was actually interested in you, and even the novel you were reading.

"Whatcha thinking about, Juliet?" JJ teased letting his hand move the strand of hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your acute ears.

You shrugged, "I just..." You paused, you didn't want to pride your thoughts on the Pogue as you didn't want to scare him away.

"C'mon, pretty girl. What is it?" He interrogated you. He looked down at your fingertips, loosely fighting with each other as you were struggling to form words. He initially engulfed his hands into yours brushing your soft skin to ease your mind.

"You are kind of the first guy to ever notice me, or even pay attention to me... I'm just don't want this night to end." You stutter but with every stroke, he did made your nerves drift away.

JJ instantly brought his broad arms over your waist, pulling your body against his. In seconds your bodies moulded into one. JJ never let another human be so close to him like this, not even Kie. You were different, you weren't like what he thought you would be. There was a purity to you, naivety perhaps, but with a scent of innocent that JJ wanted to protect from the creatures of the night.

You, on the other hand, felt something inside you ignite as his arms firmly were wrapped around your frame. His embrace was like a welcoming invitation to his life, which you would accept in a heartbeat. You didn't really want the party to end nor wanting the moon to disappear as that meant your story was ending.

"You see those two stars that are moulded into one... that's you and i. Whether you feel lost or feel alone, look up into the starry night and call me." JJ managed to sound romantic for a slight second which only made you blush more.

"Poetic... I like it Maybank." You winked whilst your hands fiddled around with his countless threaded bracelets. "I like this one the most... the colours match your eyes."

JJ immediately took the bracelet off, offering your hand. "You can have it. I've seen you admire it since I got here. I have plenty back at home, so this is my peace offering."

You silently accepted the gift, watching the bracelet fit perfectly onto your bony wrist. "It's beautiful." You muttered to yourself.

JJ curved his lips as he slowly lifted your chin up, to get a good view of your face. He admired every little detail but concentrated on your lips. His head was angled slightly to the side as his lips went closer to yours, lighting pressing a small kiss to your rosebud shaped lips. When he kissed her, her identity fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting for the both of you as your tribes rival melted away. JJ's hand rested below his ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as he kept the flow of their lips going neither of them wanting to stop but, the calls from his friends parted them away.

"I better go... they are probably worried that I've got into a fight or something." JJ's face frowned watching your own do the same. "I'll see you tomorrow night, here."

"Are you sure? I don't want you getting into trouble..." You felt your walls began to build, each brick that layered made it harder for you to think that he would ever get into trouble for her, a heartless Kook.

JJ hooked his arms to your neck, "Don't worry about a thing, pretty girl."

You nodded, letting him steal another kiss from you as you watched his frame leave yours. A gush of emptiness flooded your body, as it called for him but he was already gone, vanished into the mucky air of North Carolina. You rallied back to your book, looking down at the texture smiling down as you saw him leave with his friends.

"JJ, where did you go? We were looking all over for you?" Sarah was the one who instigated the conversation since the rest were zoned out.

JJ kept it at a minimal, he didn't want his juliet to be known especially not to Sarah, "around."

Sarah hummed not believing anything JJ was saying. As they entered the van, Sarah noticed a small figure exiting from the roof, "Is that Y/N?"

JJ looked up, watching as you were clenching onto your book rather than watching your balance. "So that's her name.." He muttered to himself giving his face a warm smile.

Sarah turned hearing JJ's comment but decided to play along, "I wonder what she is holding?"

Without even realising JJ answered, "Charles Dickens. Great Expectations."

Sarah only smirked leaving JJ to slam his palm onto his mouth, feeling the metal sting his bruised chapped lips.

"We're you macking on with my ex-boyfriend's sister?" Sarah interrogated the blonde beauty.

"Let's just say that you need to tell me all the ways to sneak into his house." JJ blushed, letting his left foot bring his body up into the van.

Sarah followed behind, looking up one more time to see you peeping, "You got it, lover boy."

masterlist TAGLIST

tags: @outrbanks, @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s, @jjjmaybank, @rudyypankow, @prejudic3, @afterglowsb-tch13, @summerintheobx and @void-maybank

#outer banks #outer banks cast #outer banks imagines #obx cast #outer banks imagine #outer banks masterlist #jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #obx jj maybank #topper thornton #jj maybank x reader #obx imagines #obx imagine #outer banks sarah #sarah cameron

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lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Delayed Confession (HC)

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: Kokuyou x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hi, I recently asked you which bsts was the last to realize that he fell in love and you answered that it was Kokuyou. So I wondered how this would happen, what his thoughts and actions would be. Can you write about it?

A/N: I experimented with someone new again! Lemme know how you guys like it! :D

* italicized text = dialogue * bold italicized text = his thoughts

———————————————

When Kokuyou first saw you, he found the idea of a stranger entering the "employee's only" area to be rather irksome. Who would be stupid enough to allow a non-employee to enter a restricted area?

Since he couldn't do anything about it, he chose to ignore your presence. That is until he noticed you present at every Team W performance, holding a penlight of his color.

At first, he thought you were simply trying to get on his good side, so he continued to shun you. Even when you tried to talk to him, he would roughly say go talk to someone who cares and walked away.

This continued for a while until Borderline 2 came along, and you came out in support of Team W during all of their versus events. Kokuyou even heard you arguing with some of the customers who were talking poorly about Team W and him.

So, they aren't trying to get on my good side? They...really do support me and my team? At that point, Kokuyou became comfortable with the idea of you freely walking around Starless.

Then came the time when Kokuyou learned that Team W got the lowest votes and was going to get suspended. He was unable to digest the results and called foul play. The rebellious man couldn't understand why this was happening, considering that his team was the oldest team in Starless and was practically the face of the store.

When you learned of the results from Unei, you rushed to find the leader sitting on the back alley steps, lost in thought. You did your best to cheer him up and reminded him that Team W's fans are always going to be by his side, including you. You even added if Team W got suspended, you would start a protest outside Starless.

Your words helped Kokuyou more than you imagined, and his indifference towards you began to change. They're right...we will have supporters no matter what, and we are safe, so I need to focus on what matters - our upcoming performances.

From then on, the muscular man stopped ignoring you, and even spoke to you whenever he saw you around the shop.

The turning point came on the day he saw you arguing with Haseyama about W being the best team at Starless. He heard you standing up for him, but seeing the owner's expressions, Kokuyou knew you were walking into deep water. So, he stepped in front of you and asked Haseyama if he had nothing better to do than argue with a valued customer.

His words were enough to get the owner to leave, but he never expected you get mad at him. I could've told that creep off myself, so why did you step in the middle? I won't let him walk away after saying bad words about you. For the first time, you heard Kokuyou laughing wholeheartedly.

Unbeknownst to him, that day a gaping crack formed in the barrier around his heart. I can't believe they challenged Haseyama for my sake. They are crazy.

Then came the Breakin' It Faster Medley, and you completely lost it when you saw the new outfits. After the show, you caught Akira and couldn't stop showering Team W with praises. Kokuyou was nearby and heard you say all of you look handsome, but Sin's look blew my mind.

Your words didn't sit well with W’s leader, but he couldn't fully comprehend the reason. They're my fan, why are they're fanning over Sin's looks?

When you went to talk to him, he gave you a cold shoulder, much to your surprise. Hey, did something happen? You pushed him a little, and Kokuyou told you to go talk to Sin since you like him more.

Kokuyou, are you jealous? Your words hit him harder than he imagined. Am I jealous? Wait, why the hell would I be jealous? I have no reason to be. Neither one of you teased the conversation any further, but he never stopped wondering why he reacted the way he did.

As New Years' got closer, you learned that Team W was performing and couldn't control your excitement, especially when you learned they were getting new costumes.

The first performance of SHOOOOOUT came around, and you got to see them in the new outfits before the other fans. You couldn't help but stare at Kokuyou's tattoo and his muscles. Are they staring at me? He followed your gaze to his biceps and smirked. So, they like what they see, huh?

He even gave you a teasing smile when your eyes met, and for some reason, Kokuyou's heart started beating fast when he saw you blushing. What the hell is this?

On New Year's Eve, Team W invited you out with them to grab dinner and watch fireworks. Then the midnight countdown started, you wanted to take this chance to show Kokuyou just how much you liked him. So, you tugged on his jacket, beckoned him to come closer, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Happy New Year’s, Kokuyou!

He was shocked, to say the least, but he didn't get upset by your actions. Did...they just kiss me? That was bold, but damn it, what the hell is this strange feeling? He couldn’t deny that he liked it, but the feeling that was left behind made him uncomfortable.

For a while, Team W had downtime while the other teams battled and performed events. One day, Akira mentioned that he hadn't seen you all day. It's odd...they're at Starless every day. Even the leader couldn't deny that it was strange for you not to be there.

Takami soon hurried into the locker room and told Kokuyou to go to the back alley. (Y/N) is waiting for you...they...just hurry. As soon as W's leader saw his teammate's hesitant expression, he dropped everything and raced to find you.

The moment he saw your disheveled state - tear-stained face, dirty covered clothes, and messy hair - Kokuyou's heart sank. What happened!? You jumped a bit at his loud question, and even he was surprised by the amount of anger in his voice.

You threw your arms around his toned physique and buried your face in his chest, crying once again. Why...is it so hard to breathe? Damn, don’t cry.

As you told him about your frightening experience with a drunk male grabbing your wrist and refusing to let go as he flirted with you, his anger level skyrocketed. Kokuyou...I-I'm scared.

That was it. Those words brought out his protective instinct, and he tightly wrapped his arms around you. It dawned upon him that he can't see your tears, can't see you in pain, and hated the idea of another person getting close to you or forceful with you. The strange feeling...all along was...love?

The corners of his lips slightly tugged upwards as he gently stroked the back of your head. It's okay, you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you...ever again.

———————————————

➣ BSTS Masterlist

#bsts #blackstar theater starless #bsts kokuyou

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theartofimagining13 · 3 years

Photo

CHAPTER 4: THE CHEATER CHEETAH DRESS.

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

BASED ON: Imagine: After a big discussion with your fiancé Tom…

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: 1 DISENGAGEMENT | 2 THE TALE OF THE OFFENSE | 3 THE WEDDING GUEST

TEASER | POSTER | CHAPTER POSTER | CHAPTER TEASER

NOTES: First and foremost, I would like to thank @clockgirl94 because if she hadn’t sent me that Javier gif, this chapter wouldn’t have been born. ❤︎

I was reluctant to write spanish dialogue translations but then I remembered that spanish is my first language and maybe not everyone else’s lol.

And also, there’s a subtle POV change.

Enjoy.

Funny how some humans’ defense mechanism works only in retrospect.

You get out of a messy situation, and it is only when you look back that things are crystal clear and you ask yourself why did I not see this before?

I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes. After our honeymoon, Tom bought a bigger house in a quieter area of the city for us to move into. As I unpacked my clothes, I found a little summer dress that I hadn’t seen in months and I might as well have used as a noose because, as soon as I saw it, as soon as I touched it, I was out of breath and felt the biggest knot in my throat. There’s violence in the way some memories come back to us with an object or a smell; that seemingly insignificant piece of fabric unleashed in my mind a wild river of memories.

I chuckled at myself.

If I had truly wanted to forget, I would’ve burned the fucking dress but I had only managed to stash it at the bottom of a forgotten drawer, and now it was here. I got up and neatly placed it on the bed and stared at it. I suddenly felt a kiss on my left temple. Tom walked past me afterwards holding another heavy box and I saw the curious face he made once he left it on the floor and noticed the dress.

“You haven’t worn that in a long time.”

“I know…”

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You should.” He purred in my ear before planting kisses down my neck. “You drive me crazy in it.”

My heart raced when he held me tighter and spun me around. He caught my lips with his and I felt his hands going down my back. This was triggering for me, I had to stop him without being suspicious so I gently pulled away.

“Take me out on a date when we’re done here and I just might wear it.” I lied.

Tom let out a quiet pleasure groan in advance at the mental image perhaps.

“You got yourself a deal, baby.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips and left to carry on with the move.

I sighed. See, the thing is, Tom wasn’t the only one who that dress drove crazy, and by now, I am pretty sure we’ve established that he and his former best friend, Pedro, liked the same things. As I stared at it again, I let myself go and revisited that particular memory in the forbidden recollections book.

Tom and I were hosting a summer cookout for a few friends and family in our old garden.

It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day in June, and I was wearing the now infamous cheetah print dress with combat boots. Tom had proposed a few days prior, and I hadn’t told Pedro. The thought alone made me nervous because how was I supposed to even form that sentence?

Hello, lover. I just got engaged.

Cringe. Of course not. Which is why I chose not to wear the ring for the occasion.

It didn’t get any easier when I saw Pedro as I walked out into the backyard. He was helping Tom with the grill and the charcoal, with a beer bottle in one hand but looked up at me and stared almost longer than politically correct. And the way he did it, slowly from head to toe and with slightly parted lips which made me feel things I shouldn’t have felt; but that ship had sailed. I kept my distance mingling with others at the party and he stayed there talking to Tom for a while.

I wish I had heard that conversation.

“I asked her to marry me.” Tom said with the biggest grin. “She said yes, mate.”

Pedro tensed up and stared at Tom, he swallowed and washed down a million sour words he could’ve said with the swig of beer he took.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tom chuckled. “I was… terrified.”

“Well, who in their right mind would ever do that?” Pedro half joked.

“You say that now…” Tom said. “But you just wait. I mean, look at her. Can you blame me?”

Pedro tightened his jaw as he glanced at her one more time and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I’ve told you a million times that you’re a lucky motherfucker.” He said causing Tom to laugh. “I gotta take a leak.” Pedro announced dryly. “Hey, you got anything stronger than this?” and immediately added, “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“There’s whiskey inside.”

“I’ll get it.”

He started to walk away but stopped to look back at Tom, realizing that he had forgotten something.

“Congratulations, man.” He forced a smile.

When Pedro walked into the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water and scowled at himself in the mirror.

I put a big pitcher of lemonade in the fridge before I went upstairs but I stopped midway when I heard the hallway bathroom door opening and closing, and instinctively looked over my shoulder only to find Pedro.

I couldn’t read his expression so I kept walking, hoping that he would follow me, and aching for a moment with just the two of us alone. I faced him when I reached mine and Tom’s bedroom door and leaned against it with my hands behind my back. He got closer and placed his right hand right next to my head, towering over me as he stared into my soul.

“You think you can just walk around in that little dress and get away with it?”

“You like it?” I teased.

He slowly looked down and up again, provokingly.

“It’s driving me crazy.” He confessed in almost a whisper.

I allowed my eyes to wander and make sure that we were completely alone before I leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was cold, empty, so unlike Pedro’s trademark passionate ones, and he was rarely in a bad mood which made it twice as scary when he actually was, but I had no idea if that was the case. I pulled away and furrowed my eyebrows with concern. He cleared his throat and sniffed loudly.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He inquired with the most serious face and tone.

“What do you mean?”

But he just cocked his head with condescendence and, it took me a minute, but I figured out what he was talking about.

“He told you.” I sighed. “Pedro, I was going to tell you, I just-”

“When were you going to tell me?” He cut me off.

“I-I don’t know, I couldn’t find the right w-”

I ceased talking and flinched when he struck the door with the hand that had been resting next to my head.

“Fuck’s sake…” He cursed and roamed a little with his hands on his waist.

Back then, silly me thought he was jealous, hell, I even liked it a bit. But no. Pedro was worried.

“Now?” He asked with a much more collected tone. “He had to propose now?”

Looking back, this was the only moment Pedro felt a little remorse. He was worried because my engagement had just made things even more complicated. Ironically enough, our affair had only started when this happened; we had been meeting in secret for a few weeks. We could’ve stopped then while Tom hadn’t a clue, could’ve pretended that it never happened and move on. Pedro and Tom’s friendship would’ve remained intact.

Pedro was a hypocrite, we’ve also established that. Somehow, it was okay to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend but once I became his fiancée, Pedro looked like he had finally encountered a line he could not cross.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” He wondered out loud while looking over my shoulder as if he could see Tom in the backyard, through the door and walls.

Truthfully, I was very happy with my diamond ring, so, I also started pondering on my future with Pedro. The fact that our affair had just started had a pro and a con in common; Pro, We had only just begun which would make it easier to cut ties right then and there. Con, we had only just begun which would make it ten times harder to quit right then and there.

I sighed with frustration when I had that moment of honest clarity.

“I guess we could… stop?” I hesitantly asked and hated it to no end.

Pedro’s face fell and he studied me briefly but carefully.

“I mean,” I added. “People might get hurt.”

Pedro blinked several times and slowly began to nod.

“You’re right. We don’t… we don’t want that. We’ve been lucky.”

But I swallowed hard because I could easily tell that he loathed this as much as I did.

“We should just… be friends.”

Again, his brown eyes traveled up and down my body and he gulped.

“Friends.” He echoed.

My heart was racing in the middle of the staring contest we seemed to be having, and I felt as if he could hear it over the silence we shared. He inched closer.

“Is…is that what you want?” He inquired.

At that point, that was the only right thing left to do, and to sort of mend things or prevent them from getting worse. But Pedro understood my silence when I just glued my eyes to his.

“Open the door.” He ordered.

As soon as I did, he followed me inside, closing it behind him and kissed me on the lips in the most urgent way, and I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. I could feel his hands going down my back as he kissed my neck and chest, and I turned around and faced the bed because I knew what we both wanted and needed. He pressed me against his body and cupped my breasts. I could feel him getting hard and it weakened my knees. His hands went underneath my dress and he pulled down my underwear before pulling the skirt up.

The sound of Pedro unbuckling his belt in a rush reverberated in my core. I desperately needed him inside of me, I wanted and needed him to fuck me till we both came. He licked his fingers and touched me, letting out a silent and proud chuckle because I was more than ready for him. Our foreplay had started from the moment he decided to eye fuck me as soon as I showed up in the garden, and our little conversation was the sugar on the rim. He lowered his pants enough to pull out his cock and caressed my entrance with the tip, using his free hand to gently and slightly bend me over the bed.

And he tortured me like this for a few seconds that felt much longer to me, inserting just the tip, slowly going out and in again until I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore and he finally quickened the pace. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed him, all of him, and I moaned when he finally granted me my wish.

“Fuck…” He breathed out and just stayed inside of me while I adjusted to him.

Pedro grabbed me by the hips with a tight grip and started fucking me like I had been silently begging him to; Hard and fast and just making me his. His low grunts and his ragged breath were turning me on even more. One of his hands slid up my back until his fingers got lost in my hair and he grabbed a fistful as he kept pounding into me, but it moved down to my neck, prompting me to stand up straight as he wrapped his arms around my waist and one greedy hand cupped one of my breasts.

“Te gusta? (You like it?)”

I groaned. I loved it when he whispered things in Spanish in my ear, and adding the fact that we had to be as quiet as possible was driving me over the edge.

“Dime. (Tell me).”

“Yes.” I breathed out. “Pedro…”

He chuckled again, knowing what I was implying and begging for, and he nibbled my neck before whispering once more.

“Te quieres venir? (You want to cum?)” He asked even though he knew I was dying to cum. I could even hear his mischievous grin. “Vente, mi amor. (Cum, my love).”

The rhythm of his thrusts increased again and he held me tighter. My whole body tensed up, I could feel it, the tingling sensation slowly taking over until it possessed me whole, mind and soul. Pedro had to cover my mouth as I came undone in his arms, he held onto me for dear life and buried his face in the crook of my neck as he poured himself into me and let out a suffocated moan against my skin.

With relief washing over us, our heart rates began to settle, and our foreheads were covered with a thin layer of sweat.

As I freshened up and washed my face, I stared at myself in the mirror and wondered if that had been the last time for Pedro and I.

Perhaps we had said goodbye in the only way we knew how.

I entered the kitchen and poured myself a much needed glass of ice cold lemonade before I was joined by my fiancé.

“I think we should tell them.” Tom said while taking out a few more meat packages from the fridge.

“What?” I asked in a blissful yet lethargic daze.

“About our engagement.” He placed them on the counter.

He stood in front of me, waiting as if he was asking for permission and looked at my glass of lemonade which he ended up stealing to take a sip.

But when he looked down at my hand, he frowned.

“Where’s your ring?” He asked.

“Oh, I… I took it off when I washed my hands and must’ve left it in the bathroom.” I lied.

“Put it on.” He said.

It was all the same now, Pedro knew. So, I did as I was told for Tom to make the announcement in the garden. I heard the three C’s of celebration; clamoring, cheering, and clapping, but all I could see was Pedro sitting in the back, and when his brown eyes found mine, he just showed a cynical smile and raised his glass of whiskey, at me, the cheeky bastard who had just fucked the fiancée in the cheetah dress.

Or the cheater in the dress.

I was sure that Pedro was just as addicted to me as I was to him. Engagement or not, we just weren’t ready to stop. If anything, he craved me more fiercely than before, and that ring on my finger just turned him on even more.

We had only just begun.

I blinked several times as the arousing memory dissolved and I became aware of my surroundings.

I bit my lip and wondered if Pedro still thought of these encounters of ours. I asked myself if he missed me, if he thought about me, if he touched himself while doing so, if he envisioned me while fucking someone else. Or the possibility of an ugly truth where he had just moved on and I meant nothing, but then I remembered my wedding day and his drunken honesty.

Of course he fucking thought of me.

#IN HIS ARMS #Pedro Pascal #Tom Hiddleston #Fanfic #Fiction #Fanfiction

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Greedy (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort, College!AU

Summary: You’re an extremely touch-starved college student, so you ask your friend Shinsou to help you out.

Word count: 2,282

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I may or may not be projecting on this one...

This took way longer to write and it ended up way longer and shittier than I expected. Not to mention I fell asleep in the middle of writing last night, so I’m sorry this wasn’t up sooner!

I was debating between Shinsou and Todoroki on this one, but I haven’t written for Shinboi in a while, so why not? (If you guys want a Todoroki ver, I’ll write it too!)

I hit 500 followers 2 days ago! Thank you guys again for liking my posts and my content, I really appreciate it! I’ll work hard to give you better stuff in the future!

I said in my milestone post that I would start a new tradition of spotlighting other writers/artists in the community that I follow to spread some love around, so I’m promoting @lovingshoto once again! If you want some floofy headcanons and one shots, go check her out!

Alright, I’m done talking, enjoy lovelies~

My friend blinks at me. He's practically frozen with fear at my proposal.

"Come on, it's not that bad! Why are you looking at me like I asked you to hide a body for me?" I whine.

"It's not that." He puts down the drink he almost choked on. "It's just...very strange."

I'll admit, it's a very unconventional request I asked of Shinsou, but it's very rational, I swear. "I have scientific evidence to persuade you. Science agrees that it helps lower depressive symptoms and stress. And it releases Oxytocin and makes you happier. Which I really think both of us can benefit from."

My friend sighs. "It still sounds really weird."

"And it improves sleep." I give him a pointed look.

For the first time in our conversation, Shinsou finally seems interested. "Alright, I'm listening."

A grin splits my face in two. "We can start at twice a week! That way, it won't interfere with both of our busy schedules too much."

The violet-haired boy crosses his arms over his chest. "What's so great about cuddling anyway?"

My jaw drops to the floor. "Shinsou, are you telling me you've never cuddled anyone before?" When his face turns red in shame, I know his answer. "You poor, touch-starved boy. How about tonight we give it a try, and then you can give me your answer?"

Shinsou levels a gaze at me. I can't read what exactly he's thinking, but I'm hoping I'm pulling him to my side. Spring is start to hit and I'm feeling both the emotional and physical consequences of so-called cuffing season. Long, hot showers, wrapping myself in blankets, and clothing myself in hoodies and fuzzy socks to survive winter aren't cutting it for me anymore. I want to say I'm becoming influenced by the amount of couples I see walking around campus, but it sounds more intelligent for me to say it's a natural instinct of animals.

But I know it's just an emotional thing, I'm lonely and touch-starved myself.

Shinsou rubs the back of his head. "Where and when is this happening?"

The poor, confused boy stands in front of my bed. "What am I supposed to do again?"

Huffing, I pull his arm into me. "Just get in here and hug me. I'll help you."

I don't blame my awkward friend for being hesitant. He's not usually one for invading personal space and he's definitely not the hugging type. Unfortunately for him, I am a hugger and physical touch whore.

"Just lay back like this, arm out." I position him on his back before laying on my side, using his arm as a pillow and wrapping an arm around his torso, almost like hugging a life-sized teddy bear. Feeling his warmth radiating from him, I hum in satisfaction. "Just like that."

Shinsou eyes me, stiff as a board. It's a cute expression, watching his face tinted in rosy blush. "W-What now?"

I shrug. "We just talk. Or we can just stay here silently." But he's still panicked about the whole thing, so I decide it might be easier for him to be distracted by conversation. "How was your bio test yesterday?"

"It was...okay." His gaze darts back and forth between me and some other object in the room. "I think I messed up on one of the answers."

His arm under me hasn't relaxed from his tense state. "Are you having trouble in class in general?"

"Yeah, but the bio department in general is out to get all of us anyway. Something about narrowing down the huge number of pre-med kids."

I nod slowly, but Shinsou still looks completely nervous. "Hey, is this making you too uncomfortable? I don't want to force you to do something you don't like." Maybe I went about this the wrong way.

He finally looks down at me. "No, it's not- Damnit. It's just... I'm not used to it. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do, and I'm not much of a hugger, and I don't think I'm the best person to do this for you."

My heart melts at his candor, guilt eating at me. I get up from my position. "I'm sorry, it was selfish of me. I didn't even think- I guess it's a little pathetic."

Shinsou sits up and hugs me. "It's not pathetic, don't think that way." His large hand strokes the back of my head.

I'm taken back by the sudden gesture. "Look at you, being all touchy-feely now."

"Shut up, you're obviously trying to make this work, I should put in an effort too." The tempo of his head pats slows. "Also, is it...strange that I kind of missed your warmth when you pulled away?"

Something flutters inside me as I smile to myself. "I think I've made you a believer."

"So, how did your presentation go?" Shinsou strokes my hair from behind.

His soft touches coupled with the warmth radiating from his chest on my back is a magic relaxation spell. My eyes are already closed in bliss. "Went great, especially since my group stayed up late the night before to practice like 500 times. I'm just glad it's over."

"You think you did well?"

"Yeah." I feel myself already drifting off from his hypnotic gesture.

His deep chuckle resounds in my ear. "If you were a cat, you'd be purring right now."

I snuggle closer into his chest. "I can't help it, I'm just so tired and you're putting me to sleep."

Shinsou has really warmed up to our twice a week cuddles. We thought it would be best to have a Friday night cuddle to wind down from the week and a Tuesday night cuddle to energize in the middle of the week. If either of us end up being busy one of those days, we said we can either postpone it a day or just wait until the next cuddle day, but nothing has every come up yet. It's settled very nicely into both of our routines.

He seems to enjoy it more than me sometimes, sending me eager texts or showing up early to our cuddle sessions. It's not uncommon for him to end up sleeping until morning as we embrace. It warms my heart knowing he's realized the benefits of cuddling.

"Can you turn around? My arm's about to fall asleep," Shinsou asks, and I lay on my other side, letting him fold that arm near his head and wrap the other around my torso.

Speaking of warmth, I never imagine I would feel a different kind of warmth when I'm near him. It's not the kind that comes just from the sharing of heat. It's the kind that sends tingles or goosebumps through you from just under the surface of your skin, makes you a different type of cozy, the feeling of sweetness without the taste.

Our relationship grew deeper than I think we both expected. Slowly, we've opened up to each other about deeper things we wouldn't have normally talked about. Late into the night, if we were both still awake, we would open up about out innermost thoughts, secrets, and demons.

Most importantly, I'd say it definitely improved my mood overall. Not only did it give me something to look forward to, but I feel happier. Even on nights where Shinsou ends up leaving for his own room, I'm left with an afterglow buzz, sleeping with a smile on my face for the rest of the night. Thinking about it during the day sends another wave of warmth through me. It's as if all my stress melts away when we're in each other's presence, basking in each other's scent and low breathing.

Though, there is something about cuddling Shinsou that makes me want more of him. I don't know if this is a side effect of the warmth, but I understand his eagerness to spend more time interlocked as we do. All I want to do is snuggle closer to him until there's no more space left. The afterglow of the cuddle sessions would easily be replaced with a cold emptiness, leading me to crave his touch during the day. I'm a starving child who's become a greedy glut for nourishment.

Shinsou's scent is stronger now that I'm facing him. I press my arms into his chest, allowing me to lean in closer to his neck, gradually morphing into a ball against him. I don't know how I survived without this before.

This week has been absolute shit. I'm so close to screaming at something, my lungs feel like they're going to burst. A mix of anger, self-loathing, loneliness, and melancholy bubble underneath the surface. I failed a test in one of my major science classes, I have a paper summary due sometime next week, and two written assignments due in two days. On top of all of that, as part of a pairs assignment in one of my classes, none of the "friends" signed up to be my partner. And these are the same "friends" continuing on to graduate school with me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I'd left my umbrella in my dorm and it poured rain today.

Trudging up the stairs of my dorm building, I open my door and slide my bag off my damp shoulders without moving inside. A familiar tickle in my eyes, heaviness in my chest, and overall loss of warmth in my body almost starts overtaking me.

I don't want to be along right now, I think desperately, closing the door and practically sprinting down the hall, up another flight of stairs, and finding another room. I don't care if it's not Tuesday or Friday, I can't be alone right now.

I slam the door open, thankful that he never bothers to lock it. But I turn the bolt closed.

Shinsou jumps up in surprise. He's sitting at his desk, textbooks and laptop open. I would feel bad for intruding at a time like this, but I'm too far into my feelings to care about things like shame or decency.

"What's wrong?" he looks up at me as I rush over.

I don't respond, grabbing his arm and harshly yanking him out of his seat only to throw him onto his bed. His eyes widen as I climb on top of him, one of my knees between his legs. We haven't used this position, but I just don't care. Once I collapse my head onto his chest, he audibly breathes out a sigh of relief and relaxes, settling one of his hands on top of my slightly dampened head and the other on my back. "What happened?"

His warmth and fresh scent that normally calms me right down makes me silently sob into his chest. I don't hold anything back from him; all my feelings ranging from my past mental health to my childhood quarrels with my parents to the existence of time being a curse for not being enough of it in a day burst from my lips messily. I probably sound a mix of drunk and deranged.

Shinsou doesn't say a word, only alternating between stroking my wet hair and patting my back gently, even as I make a mess of his shirt. "It's been a tough week, you deserve to rest before you even try to tackle it. Those people aren't your friends, you don't owe them anything and you shouldn't expect anything from them either. They don't deserve how great a person you are. You're doing great, trust me. You're hardworking, friendly, trustworthy. Anyone would know you're an absolute gem to be with."

His words evoke a shift in me. This warmth is different from the emotional bursts I've felt before. Hearing compliments from him hits differently.

And that's when it hit me. I'm not just greedy for his cuddles, I want Shinsou as a person. As my boyfriend.

My eyes snap open and I lift my head up. I meet his confused stare. "Do you...mean that?"

One of his eyebrows lift up. "Of course. You're amazing, why would I lie about that?"

I feel a slight rush of heat. "Would you... Do you see me... in some other way?"

He blinks once before a tint of pink coats his cheeks. "Well...maybe I do? I didn't want to say anything about it, but since you're asking, I won't hide it from you." The color saturates more. "I like these cuddles and everything, but...sometimes I think I want more of you. It's...we're already doing this whole thing together, it feels like we're already a couple." His arms constrict around me. "Sometimes, I want to hold you like this and call you...k-k-" He coughs, embarrassed of his next word. "Kitty."

My own face gets infinitely hotter as my stomach tumbles at his term of endearment.

"Y-You already nuzzle into me like one!" he adds defensively. "It's not weird, I swear!" I looks cute to see him all flustered like this.

I kiss his nose instinctively and he turns tomato red. "I think it's really cute," I mumble. "You can call me that if you want. I'll be your kitty."

Shinsou seems like he's in a panic, arms frozen as they constrict around me. "Wow... That sounds better than I thought it would," he mutters incredulously.

I chuckle. "You said that out loud, Hitoshi."

One of his large hands cups my jaw and I nuzzle against it. "My precious kitty." It rolls off his tongue so naturally. He presses a kiss on my forehead. "I'll keep you happy with my cuddles."

I smile against his touch. "Aren't you happy I showed you cuddling? Aren't they great?"

"They're the best, especially with you, Kitty."

#Shinsou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shinsou hitoshi #college!AU #shinsou fluff #comfort #gender neutral reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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mantra4ia · 3 years

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Debris 1x13 "Celestial Body": rewatch Reaction'd, questions and comments

So if all those people are experiencing emotional convergence, who are they converging from? Who's sending the emotional signal that the debris is channeling, or is it the debris manifesting it's "consciousness" in a way that we can understand it by way of human conduits?

Maddox is clearly trading debris pieces with Irina (perhaps the piece that he took out of storage off the books), and Irina is on the phone with presumably her handler/ boss to negotiate this trade. She gives him lateral (which I assume means latitudinal) readings and then he asks for longitudinal readings which we don't get to hear. They are: Lateral 105, 112, 115, 120, 113, 110, 109

What's the significance of these measures? Latitude goes from 0° to 90° from the equator, so that doesn't track unless the scene is cut wrong and they're meant to be longitudinal (E/W) readings, which go to 180° relative to the prime meridian. That would make more sense, because after Irina is done with the first set of readings, the unknown caller on the phone says "drop to level two for vertical" and latitudes are North/South.

If we're talking Western longitudes, notable landmarks include: Denver, Salt Lake City UT / Phoenix AZ / nearly Sedona AZ - aka where the telesphere went, Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe/ Nevada border, Great Salt Lake, Alberta-Saskatchewan border, and the Utah-Arizona border.

Or perhaps they're not part of terrestrial measurement at all. The act of "lateral reading" could just mean verifying your sources/accuracy as you go, where as vertical reading is reading for content first to see if something is worth evaluating for sources.

However, if they are part of coordinates, then is the fragment that Maddox is trading with Irina a legitimate "mapmaker" piece like George previously said Influx was seeking? Ya know, when he lied to his daughter. Can a mapmaker piece track moving/animate debris akin to the telesphere? Are those black dust cloud beings George is running from made up of animate debris?

Bryan: After becoming a parent you're in a heightened emotional state, emotionally raw.

George: Higher highs, lower lows, the joy of having a child, the postpartum depression, and the fear of getting it wrong.

Me: Are we in a pensive, self-reflective mood, George? Are you practicing your pub trivia Bryan, delivering exposition, or are you speaking from personal character experience? Seriously, how would you know?!

John Noble as Otto, man why does he always make such a good villain?

What is with the cryptic vagueness when Maddox tells Irina, "You know I can't let you leave with that case right? I mean you know that. There's another door for you Irina, one that only you can go through." They seemed almost on good terms in a previous episode, like friends or something more in a past life "nice car, i almost left / no you didn't", he wouldn't kill her, would he? Or is it more like a code between them, a sort of "I'm being watched, take the back exit"?

Hey, so why is it that sometimes George's eye seems opaque and damaged from the debris implant, but then when he's talking to Finola after he distracts Bryan while being Debris whisperer, his eye seems fine? PS: I googled Tyrone Benskin just to see what he looks like when he's not playing George Jones and I didn't know he's a former member of Canadian Parliament. Don't trust the government, eh?

George: "You're such a compassionate person, you always have been. So much of your mother in you." That's the second time that Finola's mother has been mentioned in the series, back from the pilot. Is it a coincidence that the first piece of debris that chose to interact with Finola resonated her mom? More than just Finola's desire being reflected by the debris, but the debris emoting it's first impression of her as someone compassionate that it can trust?

It also raises my heckles that George repeats, almost word for word, something that Finola said in episode 3. "If we can't help people, we do not deserve this debris / if we don't use this debris on these people, we are not worthy to have it." Are father and daughter that ideologically similar, or has he been spying on her progress this whole time, or both?

George: "I took my life to allow myself a rebirth, I paid the price. I want you to know that not one day goes by that I don't think of you and your sister. I want you to know this." This coincides with my initial impression that George staged his death to get away from Orbital after he assessed how his research was being used/abused.

George: "You never wanted to go into the pool, I had to throw you in, and you kicked and screamed, but you always did better that way." Immabout to throw you George, just keep talking!!!! I'm sorry, this charicature of absentee father reminiscing about the good old days really ticks me off from personal experience.

Also, as a person with a disability, I am not particularly pleased with the use of Dario as a plot device instead of a thoughtful character with a backstory at this point in the show for 13 whole episodes now. Pretty pissed off actually, so they better do something phenomenal and pivotal with Christian Rose (Dario) in season 2 [maybe have his character interact with debris in a similar way to Caroline]. But that's another rant about ableism in screenwriting for another angry day....

George: "A telesphere was born yesterday. It came from a pocket dimension inside Orbital. I think it's birth may have triggered the debris." This is perhaps the one-ish episode that I find George remotely interesting and also infuriating, particularly because of the way he speaks, like he's finally taken off the guise of the old, well-meaning eccentric and turned into a sharp, cunning, and at times calculatingly ruthless individual. I find it peculiar that he says a telesphere is born. Makes me think that the debris is not just part of a spacecraft, but a hybrid of the beings piloting that craft.

I get tremendous satisfaction from Finola head-butting people. This should continue.

I'm not familiar with all of the work of JH Wyman to know if this is a running theme or an ongoing joke. But does he keep his writing staff in a constant state of starvation? Is that why pieces of debris are called "Nachos", and why Influx has "Beans" to shield them from debris side effects, and why Bryan is always eating junk food? Should I be worried about the writer's room and start sending them healthy snacks?!? Just give me an SOS in the credit roll.

Speaking of: is the "Bean" that Finola ingested a piece of debris? Similar to the pieces of debris that fused with Anson Ash? Will it impart some physical benefits to her moving forward?

"I won't lose you again...you belong with me." What are you talking about George Jones, you made the conscious decision to leave your family. You didn't lose Finola, she lost you. In this version of reality at least. Or (unscripted backstory) did Jones and his wife separate prior to her death / was Finola brought up mostly by her mother? That doesn't seem the case if she was buying her father birthday presents and took it upon herself to settle his affairs after his death.

Why do the Influx Operatives Otto and Anson have tattoos on their hands, but not Loeb? Is he like the low end of the totem pole FNG who hasn't earned his stripes, hence why Otto gives him s***: aka "Careful you cretin. All the finesse of a butcher."

What is the hierarchy of Influx anyway? Despite being an anti-government "for the people/ elevate the human consciousness" organization they do still seem to have a governing hierarchy and Otto and George seem to be on the same level, pretty high in rank / they talk with confidence to each other like they go back a while.

What is that weird thing that Otto does with his hands to Bryan's head? What are all the weird things Otto does, including his massacre at the petrol station? Ick.

Why is it that Leob and George are freaked out by the black smoke (debris particle?) man, but Anson and Otto aren't? They seem to see them(?), but don't overtly react.

Bryan: "It seems like we're entering some kind of new phase." Gee where have I heard that one before? Oh yeah, the story of "Blackwater grandfather" and the black wind that they're still teasing endlessly while refusing to tether it into some kind of world building lore. Agggghh!

Lololol, Bryan and Finola's dynamic even in the midst of a very serious episode makes me laugh. "Devon Reese / two e's? / Two e's!" "This one smells like baby diapers. Almost as bad as the tech section of the plane/ You mean your section of the plane. / Almost." That zinger 👍

Paraphrasing Bryan: "[recapping, recap, and did I mention recap]...something about George doesn't feel right." Personal pet peeve: I HATE IT when episodes have intentional explanatory lines like this to point out the fact that we as audience are privy to information that the main characters aren't. Not only does it make the main characters seem less intelligent, it breaks the fourth wall a little bit and gives the impression that the audience, which is ahead of the plot, is not as intelligent and needs a reminder that we're ahead. Lackadaisical writing drives me nuts!!! I can't outright say that it's "bad" dialogue, but it's not a choice I would make if I wanted uninterrupted viewer immersion.

Finola: "My instincts are good" Me: You are an emotionally intelligent decision maker with gaping personal blind spots.

George: You belong with me, your father.

Finola: My father died six months ago, and you are not him.

Me: Chef's kiss 👏👏👏

Otto: "It would never have worked out with that girl [Finola], not in any iteration." Definitely makes me lean towards the fan theory that the alt!Finola in (presumably) suspensia in Sedona Arizona got plucked from another reality.

Surprisingly, the ending credit roll has no voiceover as all the previous episodes of the season have. Disappointed that there's no potential teaser to a season 2 if the show gets renewed. But I find it curious that the extras who were demonstrating emotional convergence were credited as: chess board persons. Not sure if that's relevant, but I definitely feel like this show is playing games with me and my emotions.

#nbc debris #debris 1x13 #debris spoilers #george jones #finola jones #bryan beneventi #celestial body #sci fi #high concept sci fi #questionable execution #this show guys #renew debris #but also I need to talk with JH Wyman

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

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Sweet, Like Daisies

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi (Miruko) x Gender Neutral Reader

Story Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff / Humor

Story Warnings: Some cursing and flirting, but mostly just cuteness that could rot your teeth.

a/n: This is my art of the bnharem Discord server SFW collab, with the theme of Flowers! I decided to base my part around Daisies, which represent innocence. Rumi can be a cute and fluffy bunny just as much as she can be super fierce and I love her to death. This story also marks my beginning of writing for characters other than Bakugou! I will be posting them on this blog. If there’s anything you’d like to see, lmk! (♡´౪`♡)

Thank you so much to everyone in the server for this wonderful experience! I had so much fun and I can’t wait for the next one!

*｡Collab Masterlist *｡

--Full art piece--

“Let’s go, let’s go! Don’t tell me you’re all tuckered out already!”

“Rumi, you gotta- oh damn, my legs are on fire! What is with this hill?!”

Coming to a stop as you pulled yourself up onto a boulder jetting out of the hillside, you flopped to sit onto your butt, rubbing your burning thigh vigorously. It was a miracle that you had even made it this far, your body not exactly used to these physically challenging hikes that your girlfriend just loved to drag you on. They were easy for her, considering that she was not only one of the top pro heroes in the country, but her quirk gave her incredibly strong legs and just overall physical strength. Her bunny legs allowed her to hop over any difficult obstacle, but you? All you could do was drag yourself along, barely keeping up with her by the skin of your teeth.

“Don’t be a wimp! You’re almost there!” Squatting down at the edge of her current perch, Rumi had that typical wicked and expectant grin on her face, a few loose strands of her white hair falling around her forehead and cheeks. “You got this, Carrot!”

“Carrot… Out of all nicknames, why did you have to pick that one.” With a huff, you pulled yourself up to your feet, using the roots and rocks to help you up the steep incline.

“Oh, because I could just eat you up, of course!” Rumi gave a teasing scrunch of her nose, one of her long rabbit ears giving a twitch in satisfaction of her response. You, however, immediately grew embarrassed, losing your footing. Scrambling to catch yourself, you got secure again before turning your glare up towards her, your face burning fiercely as she laughed at your reaction. She had a talent for making you so embarrassed you could barely stand it, but really, who could blame you?

Rumi was witty and intelligent. Confident and strong. Beautiful and caring. There wasn’t an ounce of timidness in her, which is not what people would expect when they hear the word ‘rabbit’. They would think quiet, reserved, innocent, fearful, and adorable. She was adorable, to be sure, but none of those other qualities showed themselves. Actually, they showed themselves in you.

Before you had met Rumi, you were very shy, easily overwhelmed and lacking in confidence. And still, somehow, this bright and extravagant woman had taken great interest in you, building you up higher and higher until you were finally beginning to see the sun for the first time in so many years. She pushed you to better yourself, to grow stronger and happier in your own skin, and although what she encouraged was hard, it was worth every moment and struggle.

Even if she could make you so flustered you’d want to go hide under a rock sometimes.

“Rumi! Stop that, don’t try to embarrass me while I’m climbing, I could fall!”

“You dumbass, ya think I’d let you fall? Never!” When you finally got close, Rumi reached down and took hold of your forearm, waiting until you got your own grip on hers before she helped to hoist you up. Her effortless strength astounded you as always, but you didn’t have much time to admire it, as she began to move down the past the instant you were steady on your feet. “C’mon, Carrot, move that tush!”

Sighing heavily in exhaustion, you forced your burning legs to walk forward, wiping your dirt stained hands on your similarly dirtied khaki shorts. “We’re almost to a resting point, right?”

“Yes. There’s a nice little clearing here, we can take a break!” Rumi lifted her arms up over her head, giving a drawn out and satisfied groan as she stretched. Nestled at her lower back, her white fluffy tail puffed out and shook in the same moment, bringing a smile to your lips. She was just so incredibly perfect, and you couldn’t help but feel so lucky.

After walking for a while in silence to enjoy the sounds of nature, Rumi came to a stop, starting to maneuver her way through the trees and brush. “We have to go off the path a bit. Watch out for spiders ‘n shit. And stinging nettle. I’m not gonna rub that ointment all over your body if you fall in it again!”

Remembering the painful experience of falling face first into a batch of stinging nettle the last time you went hiking, you were sure to observe your surroundings thoroughly before following her. The brush and twigs scratched and poked your legs uncomfortably, but your thick hiking boots helped you to trudge through it without much problem. When you finally breached the edge of the forest into the clearing, you had to squint a bit from the brightness of the morning sun, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes.

When your eyes finally adjusted, you found yourself standing at the edge of a large field of wildflowers and tall grass, which swayed with the cool spring breeze. It felt so heavenly against your hot and sweaty skin, and the brilliant view of the hills and trees in the distance brought a smile to your lips. Being out in the wilderness wasn’t exactly your favorite thing, but you could admit that it truly was beautiful.

“How’s this for a resting spot, eh?” Rumi quite literally knocked you back into reality with a rough, playful nudge to your side, grinning up at you. “Will this do, your highness?”

“Hey, don’t patronize me like that! I get tired, I don’t have thighs of steel like you do.” You took her hand tenderly in yours as she grabbed it, your fingers lacing instinctively.

“Excuses! C’mon, let’s sit under that tree, it has shade.” Leading you forward as always, Rumi nearly had a skip in her step, her white hair bobbing in its high, messy ponytail. The tree that was chosen was a lonely one, growing out in the field alone. With all the extra room, the roots were large and snaked in and out of the ground like tentacles, and lush green leaves were at full bloom. It was comfortable and beautiful.

Shrugging off your pack, you rested it up against the tree trunk next to Rumi’s, pulling your water bottle out of the side pocket to take a healthy swig. “This really is a nice area, Rumi. How’d you find it?” Sitting down in the grass beside her, you offered her the water bottle, which she took.

“I’ve been hikin’ this trail awhile. It’s challenging, so not a lot of losers try to take it, only those that are strong enough.” After taking a sip of water, Rumi leaned her head back, squeezing the bottle so water trickled lightly onto her face and top of her head. “It is warm today, though! Especially for being spring.”

“Ah, well I can relate to those losers, I shouldn’t be on this hill either-- ACK, hey!” Suddenly, you were sprayed in the face with water, perpetrated by a very annoyed bunny.

“Don’t belittle yourself like that! Be proud, you killed that fucking hill!”

Grumbling from defeat, you ran your hand down your face to wipe the water away, glowering at your lover as she glared right back up at you with a pout that boarded on adorable. Calming down, you smiled, nodding in agreement. “Ah, sorry, sorry. You’re right. I should be proud of myself.”

“You should! My baby isn’t a loser.” Leaning up, Rumi placed a rough kiss against your cheek, her hand pressing against your other to make sure you couldn’t flee. You’d never want to, of course, so you let her punish you with the kiss, which was followed by a much more tender one before she set you free.

Smiling, you turned your attention to the grass around your legs, which was peppered with daisies and dandelions. You felt so calm and at peace in the silence of nature, and with your lover by your side, you were feeling quite… soft. That’s the only way you could describe your current emotions, so you soaked in it for a while, leaning back and supporting yourself with your hands.

After a while of peace, you leaned forward again to give your arms a rest, turning your attention back to the flowers around you. Carefully, you began to pluck the daisies out of the ground, making sure to keep their stem long. As if in a trance, you slowly began working on winding the stems of the flowers together, growing too focused on your work and the rustling of the wind to notice that you were being watched closely. In fact, you were so startled by Rumi’s voice that you jumped, nearly crushing your delicate flower arrangement in surprise.

“What’cha makin’ there, Carrot?”

“Erm… uh, a flower crown. I guess?” You brought both ends of the strip of flowers together to check the size, finding that it still wasn’t quite long enough to fit an adult head. “I used to make them as a kid. It’s been a while since I’ve been near so many daisies.”

With another sly smile, Rumi leaned against your side, resting her head on your shoulder. “Oooh, how grossly cute and sweet! Should I start calling you Baby Carrot?”

“W-what?! No, no, don’t do that, you’re gonna make me want to puke. Why don’t you call me something normal like… babe or hun.”

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy!” After giving you a playful nudge to the arm, Rumi turned her attention to the flowers around you both, plucking a daisy from its stem and bringing it up to her nose. “Y’know, for such a cute little flower, they have an awful smell. But damn, they’re tasty.” To your horror, Rumi chomped the entire bloomed flower head off the stem, making you yelp in disgust and cover your mouth.

“Rumi! That’s a wildflower! You can’t just eat it!”

“Hm?” Rumi looked up at you curiously, batting her long lashes in confusion. “I eat flowers all the time. I love their taste! They aren’t bitter to me at all. Restaurants sell them!”

“Y-yeah, but baby, they wash them first at least…” You felt your stomach churn as she picked up another flower, dousing it with water from your bottle. “Rumi! Don’t be a smart ass!”

“What, this one’s not for me!” Smirking, she held the now soggy and dripping flower up to your lips, making you cringe backwards with a sour expression. “Open up!”

“No way!” You covered your mouth with your hand, knowing that she would shove it in at the first opportunity. “There’s no way I’m eating a flower! At least not one that hadn’t been cleaned or anything properly! You have the stomach of a rabbit, you can handle it, I can’t!”

“What, you scared of getting worms?!” She poked you on the nose with the flower, leaning more against you. “You won’t get anything that’ll kill you!”

“I would, I just know it!” With a final wave of your hand, Rumi took the flower away, tossing it over her shoulder and back into the grass. “You wasted it?”

“Putting water on it made it soggy, I ain’t gonna eat that! Hey, show me how to make one of these!” Scooting around to face you, Rumi gazed down curiously at the still unfinished crown in your lap. “This shit is stupid; it has to be easy!”

“Well, it’s kind of hard, you have to be pretty gentle with the flowers. Here,” You plucked four daisies with a long stem, handing them to her before you plucked two more of your own. With detailed instruction, you showed her exactly how to twist and wind the stems, but you could see that she was already struggling with the delicate procedure. The frustrated pout was permanently plastered on her fair face, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowed. Still, she was trying and as focused as she could be.

“How the hell are you doing that so perfectly?!” Rumi eventually snapped, leaning over you a bit to really see your almost finished crown up close. “Look at that! It almost looks fake!”

Laughing softly, you finished off by connecting the two ends of the crown together, holding it up a bit to look at it clearly in the sun. “I told you, I’ve done this before. It’s not that big of a deal, babe. Here,” Turning to face her, you plopped the flower crown onto her the top of her head between her ears, making them flatten out backwards in immediate embarrassment and the tickling of the flowers against the sensitive skin.

Cheeks flushing dark, Rumi scoffed, glaring up at you as she resisted the urge to reach up and rip it off. “Get this thing off of me, I’m not some damn fairy!”

“Aw, but you look so adorable with it on.” You couldn’t resist the wide smile on your lips, especially as Rumi only grew more flustered, her ears snapping up in agitation and making the flower crown bend a bit, though it didn’t fall from her head. “It just makes you look so cute and innocent!”

“I’m not!” Rumi scooted herself closer so that she was sitting right up against your crossed legs, letting hers rest on either side of your hips. “Call me cute and innocent again and I’ll make you regret it!” As if it were a punishment, Rumi reached up and plopped her sloppy excuse for a flower crown onto the top of your head. The instant it landed, it broke apart, showering you with crumpled daisies. Unable to help it, you began to laugh, which only grew harder as Rumi began to rage and stutter. “Dammit! Fucking flowers! This is why I just eat the damn things! Stop laughing at me, Carrot!”

Covering your mouth, you gave a defeated shake of your head, holding your other hand up in defense. “I’m sorry, Rumi, it was just too funny! And so cute!”

Before you could even find the time to react, you were tackled down into the grass, immediately smothered by the feral animal before you. Latching onto her instinctively, you were at her mercy as she gripped your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips to pucker, even as your laughter continued.

“I told you! You call me cute, you’re gonna die! I-” Suddenly, the flower crown slipped off the top of her head and onto your face, framing it perfectly. The shock silenced you immediately, staring up at Rumi in surprise. She was just as perturbed as you were, but after a moment her wonder broke into a grin, chuckling as she released your cheeks. “Look who’s all cute and innocent now! Ya dork.”

Not bothering to remove the crown, you smiled softly, reaching up to caress Rumi’s cheeks tenderly. “No one in this entire world is cuter than you, baby.”

“Says the person with a flower crown on their face and daisies stuck in their hair. Hey!”

Rumi’s ears parted again as you took the crown off your face, placing it carefully on her head again to where it wouldn’t fall. This time, instead of getting angry, Rumi’s cheeks flushed again, and a cheeky smile stretched across her lips. “You aren’t gonna give up, are ya?”

“Never. Besides, innocence is a great look for you. Just please don’t eat anymore daisies.”

“Nah, flowers aren’t all that appetizing. I think I’m in the mood for some Carrot, instead.”

#bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #rumi #usagiyama rumi #miruko #mirko #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #miruko x reader #rumi x reader #personal #collab

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mistabullets · 4 years

Note

ok that dirty talk with fugo and the make up sex made me feel some type of way man, can you write a scenario for that? thanks homie

Riunione

Characters: Pannacotta Fugo x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: It's been a while since you last saw Fugo but your reunion doesn't go out as planned.

Content Warning: n/s/f/w, aged up characters, makeup sex, coming side arguing cw, mentions of death cw, spoilers for part 5, gender neutral reader and pronouns.

Note: God, this took me ages to finish and I’m so sorry.

It had been two weeks since you last spoke to Fugo and his words still played with your mind over and over, like a record. Just thinking about him hurts and you ponder if things can easily go back to normal.

Bruno... Narancia... Abbacchio. They’re all gone.

You told him he should have come. That deciding to kick it back and remain in Naples had crushed your soul and made you questioned if he had truly loved you or your self-made family. His reasonings flew over your head, you were being sunk by a heavy heart in a sea of uncertainty. He promised to remain with you.

Of course, the blonde man proceeded to flip his shit, slamming his fist down on the table, splitting the furnished wood in half. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut, instinctively pulling away from the small destruction and the ruins of his kitchen table. “I told you it was fucking suicidal—they understood the consequences, even Narancia! You even understood that yet you went anyway, so how do you think I felt?!” This was the first time he ever yelled at you with such venom and his words poisoned you.

Before rage could further consume Fugo, he had noticed your tears swelling and his battered knuckles. And before he can say anything else, an apology for behaving in such a way, you were already grabbing for your things and heading out the door. He attempted to follow after, explaining that’s not what he meant, that was happy you were okay... but you just couldn’t tolerate being in your (ex? you didn’t know anymore) boyfriend’s presence. Before storming out of the door, you turned toward back to your former lover, wanting to have the satisfaction of saying the last words, despite it never helping.

“Fuck off, Fugo! They didn’t die in vain!” you spat one last time before slamming the door and rushing back to your vehicle. You cried all the way home as the argument looped in your head...

Your mind lingered to another realm, dissociating from the cold side of your bed which used to be filled by Fugo’s warm body. At this point, it was a waiting game; who would break first and apologize. The phone was next to you at the bedside yet you only received concerned calls from your fellow gangsters. You were disappointed to see a different number on the caller ID and found yourself longing to hear the familiar voice, rough around the edges, attempting to keep composure. But you didn’t see yourself at fault! He had said such cruel words... and that was only the tip of the iceberg, frozen around your heart with so many negative emotions, all stemming from that day. When Bruno betrayed the former don of Passione...

But you wanted to melt and thaw out your miserable heart. Even if you were hurt by Fugo’s actions, you still loved him. You missed all of the wisdom he taught you, how safe you felt by his side and the passion which danced in his lavender eyes, quietly declaring his love and adoration for you with just a look. Abbacchio would have told you to suck it and apologize, saying it sucks bottling it all up. Narancia would have attempted to be a mediator, eventually just growing frustrated. And Bruno would have given the best advice, knowing you and Fugo so well. Huffing a sigh of defeat, you reached for the phone. While things couldn’t be normal again, that’s okay.

“Not everything is going to be easy. You’re going to suffer heartbreaks, you’re going to cry, and it may feel like living hell. But despite how out of control things may seem, remember this, Y/N. You do have the will to change the outcome if you put your heart into it. Be in charge of how you resolve the conflicts within the journey of your life.” Bruno had once said, whenever you confided with him about your fears of possibly facing Fugo again.

Fingers softly clicked the familiar sequence of numbers. But before you could press dial, the phone in your hand buzzed and your heart skipped a beat when you recognized the name. Swallowing down your pride, you answered, sweat already beaming your hairline and your stomach jumping with adrenaline and anticipation.

“Hey...” came from the other line, hesitation and doubt quite obvious.

“H-Hey...” you gulped, “funny, I was just about to call you myself,” you admitted.

“R-Really?” he was surprised but he tried to hide it, not wanting to ruin his chances of seeing you again.

“Heh, yeah... anyway... what’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could come over? If you want to, of course. If you need more time—“

You interrupted, “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Did you really miss me that much, tesoro?” said that familiar voice but you notice how he seemed so bewildered by your fast appearance.

It only took mere seconds to be whisked inside of Fugo’s apartment once you knocked on the door. And it only took a few more seconds to have his lips crashing down on yours, desperate and wanting to validate your existence, that you were alive and here. You couldn’t help be let out an uneven breath when you felt a warm whisper up against your ears, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole but god... I really did miss you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, wondering if you would hate me or even come back alive.”

You swear, there was a slight edge to his voice as if trying to hold back tears but before you could confirm this, kisses began littering your neck while hands eagerly grabbed for your hips to keep you anchored in the moment. Fugo led you to the bedroom, despite his needy lips burning your skin, melting into his touches. Your clothes were mostly gone by the time you fell into the soft bedding, both of you had become acquainted with each other’s bodies again. Despite the initial hurt, the heartbreak which eventually boiled into a deeply rooted resentment... you couldn’t let go, not after what you’ve been through, not wanting to lose another piece of you and have it slip away into bittersweet memories of better days. Fugo was always going to be your boy, your amore.

If he wasn’t inside you, the young man feared he may wake up and perhaps discover you were dead. Now wasn’t the time to whisper how he longed for you with filthy words of lust or rediscover the spots that made your toes curl and your fingers dig into the sheets in absolute pleasure. With haste, Fugo tore off the remainder of your clothes and allowing himself just a moment to digest that yes, this was reality and you were as beautiful as ever, even with a plethora of the scars which told the story of betrayal. “So, so beautiful... god, I’ve been wanting to fuck your brains out since I last saw you, amore.”

You gasped when you felt the tip of his cock align against your entrance and moaned from the welcoming sting of his girth as he pushed himself inside of you. Fugo groaned his obscenities along with I love you and God, I fucking missed you as he quickened his pace, enjoying how you held him tightly, with your nails digging into his back and marking him up. Rather than pounding into your heat with abandon, Fugo wanted to take his time and enjoy this reunion.

Too bad it had been so long and he already felt himself facing the brink of climax. Fugo continued his sensual fucking, making sure to grind into your sweet spot that had you seeing white stars. The hands which he had branded your lover’s skin reached for his face, wanting to see the intensity of his lavender orbs. And you saw them, along with the tears threatening to cascade down his flushed face. The young man took in your pretty (e/c) eyes, the same ones that kept the storm from brewing, that kept the tsunami at bay... now so glazed with comforting adoration as he began to ram into your tightness.

“Say my name, amore. A-Ah fuck--please...!”

“Mmph--F-Fugo, Fugo...! I-I love you!” you moaned, clamping onto his cock as orgasm fast approached.

“S-Shit, Y/N, I love you so much, I-I’m cumming!”

His hot seed painted and coated your insides as you reached your own climax, smashing your mouth against the blonde and moaning into him. You milked out his cum and felt glowing satisfaction from being so full. You whimpered as he pulled out but he cuddled up, laying his head against your chest. Tears spilled but you held him close, not ready to leave his embrace anytime soon.

God, did you miss this.

#pannacotta fugo #fugo x reader #not sfw #scenario #arguing cw #mentions of death cw #my writing #golden wind #vento aureo #jojo #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #Anonymous

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themilky-way · 4 years

Text

the motive {loki odinson}

gif credit: astouract

pairing: loki odinson x female! reader

summary: he takes pleasure in the way you react to his words. it’s a fun game up until you’ve had enough, and everything he’s wanted is sitting before him. based on the morning by the weeknd.

warnings: was supposed to be hella implied nsfw but i guess i got soft halfway through BUT i redeemed myself so ha 😼. anyways, minor nsfw themes and language, so caution. tiny, TINY angst oops. we kinky in dis one

author’s note: i started school again so getting more works done will take a bit longer but i’ll try to write as much as i can! anyways hope this satisfies y’all 😌

-------

it had started out as a joke. a fun little game that would bring him some sort of entertainment during his stay on earth. and while it did work fairly well during the first few weeks, he never thought it would transition into this-whatever the hell this was.

loki was cunning and devious; it was part of his nature that would never cease to exist within him. he enjoyed causing some trouble here and there if it meant he kept a molecule of sanity. so when thor suggested he stay with him at the avengers tower, he thought he might explode. living in a humongous multi billionaire house with the people who wanted him dead? it was a set up. it had to be.

for loki, the first few weeks had been tolerable. he’d wake up in his assigned bedroom, fix himself a mediocre breakfast once the kitchen was empty, and then scurry up to a quiet place. he discovered that he could do as he pleased whenever the compound was free of residents, and since the avengers had much bigger threats now, he didn’t have to worry about them spying on him. it was false freedom, but he could live with it.

when he’d have such luxury, he would sometimes walk down to the common room to settle with a good book. sure, it may appear to be a boring pastime, but it wasn’t as if loki was going to throw an exuberant ball without tony’s permission. not that he was a man- dare he say god-of seeking approval, but it was common courtesy, for odin’s sake! he had morals he needed to follow, thus requiring him to partake in hobbies that would not get him in trouble.

however, when he came across a particular mortal one night, the values he sought after vanished. it’s as if they never existed at all, and once again the laws of time and space defied him. you were there, taking up his entire field of vision in just an oversized t-shirt. could it be your partner’s? loki questioned. it most likely was, yet he found himself hoping it wasn’t. in that moment, it didn’t help that his mind had stopped functioning. when you stepped into the kitchen, the shirt hiking up slightly with every step, his body didn’t allow him to look away. his novel was discarded far away on the couch, and his hands searched for some type of cloth to grip. it was here, with your body bent over and curiously searching through the refrigerator, that his carnal instincts heightened. then, his knuckles turned white when you finally noticed him.

“oh fuck, hi,” you gasped. the glass bottle you were holding dropped, but it knew better than to actually hit the floor. seconds after catching it, you turned to look at the stranger in front of you. “didn’t see ya there.”

loki tried-really tried-to think of a good reason not to bend you over again, on that lovely kitchen counter your fingertips were dancing on, and take you right then and there. perhaps it might seem a tad bit rude? would such an action be impolite? the right answer was yes: it was absolutely all of the above. a first date is necessary to win the heart of a lady, and then a couple more to build a friendship. the relationship would come naturally, with given time, of course. in his head, the god was scoffing at how eager he was to win this clumsy, beautiful creature. he was one who took what he wanted-whenever he wanted-and didn’t look back. but loki was confined to the dull walls of the compound, and apparently so were you. he needn’t worry, for time had joined his side once more; he’d get to know how sweet you could taste, how your mouth would mindlessly shudder out his name, and the man couldn’t be more thrilled.

“are you able to speak?”

the simple question reached him, and when he searched for the source, he came face to face with you. you were standing in front of him, in all your delicious glory, and it almost broke him. still, he was deceitful; you couldn’t know that. “of course i speak, you fool,” loki shot back.

“okay, well, you didn’t answer me back there,” you pointed out. your hands were neatly clasped behind you, excitedly rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet, when you extended a hand for introduction. your name confidently slipped out, giving loki the most tender smile anyone could offer him. “pleased to meet you, sir.”

sir. the name stirred something up inside him, and he wasn’t able to tell if he’d accidentally let out a moan upon hearing it. did you know how innocent you sounded? how ravishing you appeared right now-with the soft skin of your thighs drawing out the patterns he so wished to kiss, or how the outline of your bosom prominently showed itself through your clothes. he stopped himself, though, before he could cross the line between observant and creepy. the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable, having had the same dreadful feeling for far too long during his lifetime.

“don’t call me that.” the hand you were holding out was covered by his own. the handshake was quick, not too harsh or loose, but just adequate. he said his name, and he found himself missing the feeling of your skin against his.

“why?”

“because it’s not for you to say.” a lie. a very well calculated one, at that. he may be properly forged in the art of deception, but right now he wasn’t quite sure he passed the test. if he could grant permission to any woman to use the term of endearment, it’d sure as hell be you.

“alright then,” you mildly laughed. “i’ll just have to find a name i can call you.”

after that, loki realized that his source of happiness ultimately came from you. he enjoyed the unlikely bond you both had, one that formed because of the god’s inability to keep it in his pants. it was awkward at first-with everything you did or said locked in his mind wherever he’d go-but the confidence he always carried with him returned at one point.

today, loki never forgot to let you know what you did to him. this was it. the game he sought after since his inherent arrival at the tower. this was the adrenaline, the crazed connection he’d been hunting for centuries. it ignited something-between the two of you-whenever loki’s mouth would hover over your earlobe, whispering just how agonizingly slow he could take you. he never mentioned how he’d go about doing it, leaving you to wonder which part of him would fulfill the deed. oftentimes, loki didn’t even have to say anything. if he was feeling particularly shy that evening, and the team was all there, all loki would do was pat his knee. if you want to, if you really need to, you can finish on my leg. the simple image of it would have your hand between your legs that night.

“loki, what the hell.” you found him inside your dorm one particularly rainy night, lighting the candles you kept on either of your nightstands. “i keep my door locked for a reason, y’know. and stop wasting my candles.”

“i can’t help myself, darling. they smell quite lovely,” loki smiled. it was sincere, adoring even, and the way he took comfort in your tiny space brought a light tug to your stomach. you stayed still as you watched his tall form stride over to you. a small breath caught in your throat when loki peered down at you, and he caught it. he knew what he did to you, and he gained a new sense of pride at just how quickly he could make your knees go weak. his thumb and index fingers suddenly-gently-lifted your chin higher so your eyes could lock together. his own searched for something as if to look for the answer to his next question.

“you’re aware this isn’t just strictly physical, right?”

quite frankly, you were not in the loop even a little bit. “what?”

the tiny whisper made him want to carve out your lips with his own, slow, and taunting, and hard. he refrained for the time being. “think hard on it. there’s no rush.”

“no, i get what you meant. it’s just” you shook your head, prompting loki to let go of his grip. “i dunno. i thought you didn’t catch feelings, let alone for me.” loki let out a hearty laugh which forced a goofy grin onto your face. you liked seeing him like this. happy.

“i’m not stone cold, darling. you’re the only one i’ve ever had an infatuation with, though. well done, you seem to have captured my heart,” he joked. you giggled with him as you lightly shoved his chest, but loki caught your wrist before you could take it back. the kiss he brought to the inside of it had you swooning. a childish, girly feeling, yet you couldn’t care less. the both of you stayed there for a while and casually chatted until it was time for loki to head out. that night, you hardly got any sleep.

-------

ever since then, loki acted as if he didn’t remember it. he went back to his cocky self, not that you minded, but some simple recognition would’ve been nice. the days lapsed as they did before: loki doing everything in his divine power to make you ache for him. it worked, no matter how hard you avoided it, but soon you stopped trying. your body demanded for loki to touch you. to give you more than a simple brush of his lips to your wrist, yet he gave you anything but. and so you set out to change that.

it was the late hours of the night, with your team comfortably dispersed amongst the common room. movie night was in full effect, and no one had the intention of looking away from the gory film that was currently playing. you were seated next to wanda, the man you wanted painfully too far away from your reach. he didn’t have any clue you were angry with him, nor were you going to tell him. he was a thoughtful man, he’d figure it out.

you blinked away only to be met with his gaze. it was sharp, hungry. he looked you over as his tongue dipped out to run along his lip, biting it once he finally saw what he wanted. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t arouse you. of course it did; the poor man would rail you straight into this couch right now if he got the chance to.

you looked away, fearing vulnerability, and somehow managed to make it to the end of the marathon. you all said your farewell’s and deparated to your designated corridors, and just when you were about to close your door, a hand stopped it.

he pushed himself inside without much resistance from your own part. you stepped back and allowed him to close it, suddenly feeling a bit small. he looked at you then, the hunger replaced by confusion.

“is everything alright?” he inquired. no it’s not. you won’t shove two fingers into my mouth and tell me how good i’ve been.

“is everything alright-” you scoffed, “no it’s fucking not, loki.” you ran your hands through your hair and looked down, finding the decorative tiles on your floor quite intriguing.

“hey, woah, look at me. tell me what’s wrong, sweet.”

“that. that’s what’s wrong, loki. it’s the way you can tease me whenever you want, and call me sweet names and expect me not to react. you give me nothing to work with, for fuck’s sake!” a couple tears ran down your cheeks unbeknownst to you, but loki was quick to hold your face in his hands. his thumb wiped the drops in quick, tender-like motions and he crumbled at the way you focused on him.

“i’m sorry, darling. my intentions were never meant to bring you harm, much less sorrow. how can i fix this?”

“i need you to, fuck i-” you took a couple of breaths. “i need-want-you to touch me. to make me feel good, in all the ways you know how.”

loki chuckled quietly, a proud, defiant smirk curving along his lips. “is that what this is about? why, you could’ve just asked. no need for a tantrum.”

rolling your eyes, you tried to look away from him, but his hands began traveling to the curve of your neck, a lonely thumb parting your lips. he pried your mouth open and slipped it inside, letting the noise hidden in the back of his throat escape when your tongue wrapped around him. “is this what you wanted?”

your own luscious moan filled the room, and you felt his thumb push harder against your tongue.

“use your words, angel.”

an enticing gasp. “yes, sir.”

#loki x reader #loki fanfiction #mcu #marvel #loki odinson x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki odinson imagine #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #loki #loki x reader smut #loki smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader fluff

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yolkyeomie · 4 years

Text

Familiar Familiarity | Han Jisung

summary — familiars are a very important part of expanding your magic as a witch, and jisung has none.

word count — 2003 words

pairing — jisung x gender neutral!reader

genre — witch!jisung, magic au, slight fluff(?), platonic relationship w/ jisung and reader

disclaimer — honestly I have no clue what this is but it’s Halloween and I at least wanted to write SOMETHING that was witch related so that’s why this is so short 🙃

“Gosh… [y/n], I’m so sorry,” Jisung spluttered out, shoving every single object on his desk towards the back to give himself more room. Small little glasses bottles of odd concoctions clinked together as he roughly shoved them to the side, a few spilling whatever liquid that was inside or falling off the desk in an unorthodox manner.

The boy cursed to himself as he tried to catch the falling glasses and clean up the small mess he had created, unusually uncoordinated. “I didn’t know it was you so I went on defense immediately and—“

“You’re fine,” you tell him, jumping up into the clear part of the desk with unfamiliar feline ease. “I should know not to sneak up on you but what can we do?”

It was really your fault if you were going to be completely honest. You’ve known the boy for a while, it was a friendship you had been kindling for around five months or so. Sneaking up on a nearly defenseless witch in broad daylight wasn’t going to end well for either of the parties involved. Out of pure adrenaline and the need to survive he had shot a spell at you, a low-powered one for a witch of his caliber, but a spell nonetheless.

Upon impact your form began to shift wildly, your stomach churning with easiness and bile rising your throat at the unnatural changes that your body was enduring.

Once you fell to the ground after your body had completely changed shape, you nearly vomited any and everything you had eaten that morning. You would not recommend going through a transformation of any kind, no matter how good of a deal the witch seemed to give you. One hundred percent, do not recommend.

Luckily, your unplanned transformation had simply turned you into a cat, a small, green-eyed feline with silky black fur. You still retained the ability to speak, which was good enough for you, but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander… Imagine the amount of pain you’d be forced to endure if Jisung had turned you into anything smaller or even anything larger? It sent shivers down your spine just thinking about it.

“I don’t know if I have anything to turn you back,” the witch boy confessed, his eyes putting his urge to slam his head into the dark wood desk. “I’ve never dappled in transformation spells before now… it was something new I was working on while you were away to keep myself busy. I thought you were a witch hunter at first so I just tried whatever I knew at the time and—“

“Hey, don’t be so down on yourself,” you encourage him, stretching out your feline body across the desk. “At least you know the spell works! Or at least… you can do it even if a cat wasn’t what you were aiming for.”

“Something of the sort,” Jisung confirmed. “Anything small and unable to do significant harm. I blame Minho, he came back earlier with his familiars and all I could think about was cats for a few hours.”

“With his cats?” You stress, your whiskers twitching at the thought of Minho traveling around the countryside with his three familiars in tow. “That’s… strange. It’s not normal for him to take them anywhere knowing that if he gets killed by witch hunters his familiars will be felt all alone.”

“I needed his help,” the witch boy clarified, sitting up from the desk and scrambling over towards the cabinet of unfinished potion bottles. With a quick flick of his magic fingers, a seal placed upon the cabinet appeared to the naked eye. It glowed for a moment, shining with a bright purple hue before the cabinet made a clicking sound and unlocked itself. “There’s this potion I’ve been trying to make for a few months now but I had to postpone it because I didn’t have any familiars to strengthen my powers.”

You dropped off the desk with ease, having to stop yourself from becoming overwhelmed by how large everything was compared to you as you trotted over towards Jisung. “Strengthen you? But aren’t you already a powerful witch? I mean… you’re not known as one of the greatest witches of this era for nothing.”

“Well, yeah,” He shrugged, basking in your small compliment before he began digging around in the cabinet. “But there aren certain spells and potions I can’t even do on my own. A familiar boosts your power because of the magic bond you two agree to, they lend you their innate magical ability and you take care of them. It’s a win-win situation when you have a familiar.” Jisung grinned when once he got his hands on a bottle, covering the top where the cork should have been to make sure whatever brew was inside didn't spill.

The witch leaned down to your temporary height, holding out the small glass vial for you to see. The bottle held a hot and angry red liquid inside, bubbling and festering with a sizzling sound like there was a fire inside. “A potion of the soulless,” He told you as you reached out your cat paw to touch the bottle, hissing and scurrying backward on instinct when you felt the bottle begin to burn the pads under your paws. “It’s from the book that Changbin gave me maybe a year or ago, it said that it’s supposed to allow me to bring the undead to my aid or end the life of my undead enemies. Pretty cool, right?”

“What are you trying to do with an undead potion when you don’t even work with the undead?” You hiss at him, narrowing your eyes between the potion and the witch boy in front of you. He seemed to be completely unaware and unaffected by the sizzling and burning touch of the potion bottle, carrying it within his hands like it was ice cold water.

You didn’t like the idea of anyone who wasn’t practicing within the arts of the undead to be playing around in its potions and spells, even if Jisung was a talented witch himself. There was just a certain evil that it radiated for those who weren’t cautious of its consequences.

“Uh, because it sounds cool as hell?” Jisung responded, placing the vial back in its place in the cabinet. Once he closed its doors the magic seal he placed upon it shined again, locking the unfinished potions inside once again. “Imagine the type of defense I could have against witch hunters who would dare come and hunt me down then? I mean… just think about the cool infamous nicknames they’ll give me? Han Jisung, the Wicked Witch King of the Dead, doesn’t that sound cool?”

“I think you need to take this a little more seriously,” You urged him. It’s not that you like seeing his childlike fantasies when it came to the ups and downs of being a witch, but this just wasn’t the time.

“I am taking this seriously,” he tried to convince you, picking up your cat form with ease and lifting you into his arms. It took you a moment to get used to the lankiness of your body, involuntarily stretching out once he put his hands under your small cat shoulders.

You squirmed within his grasp, trying to jump back to the safety of the ground as quickly as you could but ultimately failing as Jisung began to speak again. “I’m just thinking about what the future may hold when I finish this potion. There are so many possibilities and scenarios in which I could use it I can’t help but fantasize about it.”

“But Jisung,” You tried the protest, your claws digging into the flesh of his arm as he leaned down at his desk that held his already finished potions. He wasn’t paying much attention to you now, his other hand hovering around each uniquely colored liquid and reading the label on it to make sure he was grabbing the right thing.

“Don’t worry about it, [y/n],” He told you, grabbing ahold of a potion bottle with a sparkling pink liquid inside of it. The boy’s eyes scanned the writing on the label as he spoke,” I promise I’ll be extra careful when using it, I’ll only use it when I’m in mortal danger if that makes you feel any better. Right now let’s focus on getting you out of this cat form sooner than later.”

He placed off the sparkling potion of the side of the desk before searching the rest of his stock, a frown on his face when he couldn’t find anything he needed. Amid his frustration you finally squirm out of his grasp, nearly falling to the ground had you not sunk your claws into the fabric of his shirt to keep yourself up. “I’m not really focused on that right now,” You tell him, finally getting his attention as you climb around his back and shoulders in an unruly manner. “That vital was glowing red and hot to the touch, I don’t think you should be playing with this sort of thing.”

“Red?” He questioned, dropping whatever potions he had in his hands on to the desk. Jisung took a hold of you again so he could look you in your slitted eyes, a genuine look of confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean red? [y/n], that potion is dark green and cold.”

“It’s bright red and hot like a fire,” you insist, gesturing your head towards the cabinet where he stored it. “I touched it and it nearly burned me, I think I would know if it was hot or cold.”

The boy stared at you in pure disbelief, unable to comprehend the words that were coming out of your mouth. He held you within his arms again when he picked up the sparkling bottle from earlier and held it up to your face. “What color is this to you then?”

“Pink.”

“It’s gold.” He corrected you, putting the potion bottle down. “The portion inside... is gold…”

“Aren’t cats colorblind?” You manage to ask after a moment of silence, trying to fill up the still air with your voices once more. “Maybe that’s why I thought the potion of the soulless was red and that that’s pink… but it doesn’t excuse the fact that when I touched that other potion it was hot.”

“Even if cats are colorblind, that spell I casted on you shouldn’t haven’t changed you that drastically,” Jisung argued. “The spell changed your physical appearance, nothing about your genetics was changed.”

“So then…” you trailed off, feeling your stomach begin to twist and churn once again. The spell he casted on you must have finally begun to wear off. “Why am I seeing different colors from you?”

“Only familiars can see the true colors of magic and potions so that they can warn witches of what magic will have a positive or negative effect on them,” Jisung told you, “It’s a part of their bond, a duty that familiars fulfill to protect their witches at any cost. The mere fact that what you’re seeing now is probably the true colors of these potions...”

“[y/n], there is a very high possibility that despite being human… you’re a familiar.” He explained to you, not even believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. “It shouldn’t be possible because normal humans don’t have any sort of innate magic power but... you...”

“Oh,” you respond with a bewildered smile, your brain unable to process what the witch had told you. Cautiously Jisung put you down on the ground again, stepping back and away from you as you began to retain your original form once again.

A combination of the wrenched stomach pains from the spell wearing off and now new headaches you had gained from the information were sending your body in for one wild trip. This was certainty not the way you had planned to spend your day.

You glanced towards the sparkling bottle from earlier, hoping and praying to whatever god these witches followed that this was some sick joke being played on you. And yet despite your desperation the liquid inside of the portion bottle remained the same sparkling pink from when you were a cat. “Oh, how lovely. I’m a familiar.”

“This is bad,” Jisung stressed. “This is very, very bad.”

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evendeadlmthehero · 5 years

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The Five Year Promise: Time Heist (8/10)

Summary: Y/N Stark, 20 year old superhero, makes a promise with a 16 year old Peter Parker after being cheated on, that if she hasn’t found love in the next 5 years, they’d finally go on a date. Then the snap happens. Y/N is gone and Peter isn’t.

Warnings: Angst, swearing

The Five Year Promise Masterlist

Based on the events of Avengers: Endgame (2023)

Peter sat down on the roof top as he watched the sun slowly set. He was wearing the white suit that Tony had called ‘Quantum’ suits. It wasn’t similar to yours. Your’s shot quantum energy, healed you and allowed you to fly. This suit was just to help them go back in time.

Back in time, Peter kept thinking in his head. Back to the past, to what he used to be. He didn’t know if he could do it. He obviously agreed to, but he didn’t know if he could emotionally handle the situation. The wind blew back his now long hair, strands in front of his face reaching just below his eye.

He heard the door open behind him, turning to see a familiar red-headed women walk out. He heard about her, seen pictures, seen her fight, but had never actually spoken to her. He knew that you never stopped talking about her. She was like your mother, your Aunt and your bestest and closest friend.

She smiled at him, wearing the same suit as him. Peter instinctively pulled down the sleeve of his suit, trying to cover the tattoos on his arms from sight. Before, Peter never really cared about how he looked. But coming back to the Avengers facility made him self conscious. Like he was finally answering for his sins.

She walked over before she sat next to him, clasping her hands as she too looked over at the sunset. “Peter right?”

Peter nodded, not knowing what to say to the assassin. She was scary, but at the same time held a motherly sense in her. Natasha smiled at herself, her black widow training allowed her to see someone’s emotions.

“You know Peter, Y/N always spoke about you in her letters to me,” Natasha spoke, making Peter’s ears perk up, his attention now on the Romanoff female. She then laughed, mimicking your voice. “‘Nat, you would love Peter!’ she would always say. She’d talk about how smart you are, how attentive and thoughtful you are. But you know what she loved the most about you?”

“What?” Peter gulped, afraid that what ever you loved about him was gone now. He had changed, and maybe you didn’t want the new him. The broken him. The one that killed. The old Peter would’ve gagged at the thought of killing someone. The new Peter wouldn’t think twice.

“That you were fighter,” Natasha replied back, nodding at him. “Point is, no matter who you were and what you’ve become, Y/N will stick by you. And I know this because I’ve seen the letters. She writes as if it’s a novel. She writes to me with her heart as soon as she mentions your name. Someone like that doesn’t give up on the person she loves that easily.”

“You think she loves me?” Peter’s voice croaked as he looked down at his hands. His voice was full of hope, like that’s all he wanted to hear. For five years, it had been lonely for Peter. For five years, Peter was deprived of love. He had no one. Not the motherly touch of his Aunt, the brotherly love of his best friend or the romantic feeling of a women.

“I know so. Why else would she have given you that watch?” Natasha spoke, looking at his watch. Of course you had told Natasha about the watch. You told her everything. From when you got your first period, to when you gave Peter the watch. She knew everything about you.

Peter smiled a little bit for the first time in years. He then looked at Natasha, letting out a sigh. “She also spoke about you. A lot. She looks up to you. She thinks of you as a mother.”

“I know. I thought I’d never have a child, and then there she was,” Natasha trailed off somenly, letting out a laugh as she shook her head. She then looked down at the fields of grass that covered the facility. “She came into my life. It was like life was giving me a secound chance at having my own daughter. My only regret was not staying with her when the Avengers broke up.”

Peter let out a sigh, his turn to shake his head. “We’ve got a shot now to get everyone back. No do overs. We have to get it right or we’re fucked.”

Natasha nodded, getting up to dust her suit. “Cap and Scott to 2012 for the tesseract. Thor and rocket to Asgard for the reality stone. Clint and I to Vormir. Rhoudey and Nebula to 2014. And Tony and you to 2015 for the mind stone. Easy.”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, scratching his beard as he stood up. “Easy.”

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends, we lost family, we lost a part of ourselves,” Steve spoke, glancing at all the team members, his eyes lingering on Tony and Natasha. “Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win. Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

Rocket laughed, smiling. “He’s pretty good at that.”

“Right?” Scott spoke, looking like an excited puppy.

“All right. You heard the man,” Tony spoke, now determined more than ever to get his daughter back. “Stroke those keys, jolly green.”

Natasha smiled at Steve excitedly. The girl was estatic, hopeful that she might get everyone back. That she might get you back. “See you in a minute.”

Steve smiles at her warmly. He knew how much this meant to her. They all then shrunk as they entered the Quantum Realm. They all split at different intervals, going to a different place at a different time in history.

Peter felt a rush of strong wind, flashing lights and his whole body felt like elastic before finally stopping. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in. He felt a bit dizzy from entering the quantum realm, before looking around. “W-where are we exactly?”

Peter was now in a lab coat, looking like a Stark worker. Tony however was in his Ironman suit, as he can just pretend to be his past self rather than someone else. After all, he did technically own the building.

Tony walked over to him, looking around the place in fondness. “The Avenger’s Tower, New York. We had just gotten back from a Hydra Base after being attacked by Wanda and her brother.”

“Where’s the mind stone?” Peter asked, his height now towering over Tony’s. Tony shook his head, giving Peter the suitcase.

“Here,” Tony spoke, as Peter grabbed the suitcase. He looked at Tony confusedly, not knowing why the suitcase was given to him. “Y/N’s upstairs looking at the stone right now. She’s about to create ultron.”

“Wait, Y/N created Ultron?” Peter asked, now even more confused. “I thought you were the one that created Ultron.”

“I lied,” Tony bit the bottom of his lip, before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t want anyone to blame her. And it wasn’t hard to blame me since I’m always the crazy one with visions. But truth is, Wanda made her see the future. She was the one who saw Thanos coming.”

“Then what did you see?” Peter had asked, making Tony’s face turn to anguish. He looked around, trying to avoid Peter’s eyes. “Tony?”

“I- I saw Y/N turn into dust. Listen Pete, I can’t do it. I’ll probably end up ruining this whole goddamn mission if I see her. I’ll try to distract the others, including myself from going upstairs. But you need to go get the stone. She hasn’t met you yet,” Tony explained, making Peter nod before turning into the direction that was your previous lab.

He walked down up the stairs, trying hard not to be seen or heard. He then opened the door of the floor that contained the labs and started walking down the corridor quietly.

“C’mon beefcakes, party starts in three hours, get yourselves ready!” He heard Tony speak. Peter quickly hid inside a room, careful not to be seen. He then saw a previous Tony walk down with both a 2015 Steve and Thor. “Especially you goldilocks, you’re gonna need 3 hours just for your hair.”

“You misgardians are foolish,” Thor spoke, while pushing back his hair as Peter watched them walk down the cooridor. “Us beings are born with hair as silky and smooth as the backquaters of a newborn. We do not require your earthly practices to look presentable.”

Peter watched as they took the elevator and walked back out as he saw the doors close. He then straightened his lab coat before finally reaching the Lab. There was no one in it. Peter took a deep breath, before opening the door and walking inside.

Loki’s sceptre was held by what looking like an energy clasp. Peter smiled, walking over it and ready to grab it before a voice stopped him.

“And exactly what do you think you’re doing?” He heard a familiar voice say. In particularly, your familiar voice. He felt his heart drop and his voice stuck in his throat. His body was frozen from shock from the sound of your voice, unable to turn around. “Are you gonna talk or am I gonna have to get security to escort you out?”

“No!” Peter yelled, trying to focus back into his previous mission, which was to get back the stones. He had to save future you, not past you. He had to focus. He turned around, his eyes finally finding yours. You looked a bit young, which was expected as you were only 18. Your hair was a bit straighter than it is in the future and your skin was paler.

“Then what exactly are you doing here?” You spoke, taking a step forward. Who were also donning a lab coat with a black singlet and jeans. Peter gulped, trying to come up with a explanation.

“I need the stone,” Peter confessed, making you scrunch your eyebrows up. You looked at him like he was an idiot. A guy who you didn’t know just wanted to come here and take the stone. “F-for something.”

“Are you kidding me? For something?” You mocked him, before walking passed him and near the spectre. “Leave. Now. Before I escort you out myself and-“

“I’m Peter,” He spoke, his eyes glistening with tears. He needed to tell you. He couldn’t lie to you. That’s the one thing in his entire life that Peter couldn’t do; lie to you. And he also needed to talk you. He missed you so goddamn much. For five years, he only ever wanted this. “You don’t know me, b-but you will.”

“Who the fuck are you-“

“I’m from 2023,” Peter spoke, making your eyes widened, looking at him like he was some sort of lunatic. “And I need the stone, because the fate of the world depends on it. I just need to grab it and I’ll give it back, I promise.”

“And why would I believe some random tatted adult in a lab coat who I haven’t even met?” You spoke, crossing your arms. “How do I know you’re from the future?”

“Because I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to create a shield around the earth. You’re trying to create Ultron,” he spoke, his lips in the break of quivering from the adrenalin rush of seeing you again. He was also trying not to give away too much from the future. “It’s also your birthday today. And every year your father does the planning, Natasha gets you jewellery, Thor tells you an Asguardian story, Bruce gets you tools for your lab, Steve gets you little paintings and Clint bakes you a cake.”

Your mouth was wide opened, now alert. This guy was either telling the truth or he was a threat who knew everything about you. But Ultron? Only you knew about Ultron. “How do you know all this?”

“B-because I-I’m or will be, your friend,” Peter’s voice cracked, feeling like he was a teenager again. He looked down, now playing with his fingers. Your eyes squinted, taking in his appearance. He looked a tad older than you but if he was from 2023, then you were way older than him.

“Let’s say I believe you and you’re actually from the future,” you started, slowly starting to believe him. You walked over to him, now looking at him face to face. “If you wanted the stone, why couldn’t my past self get it herself?”

Peter’s fiddling with his fingers stopped, a lump now present in his throat. He shook his head, looking at the wall next to your right. His eyes started to well up before one tear left. He quickly wiped it before sniffing, his hands now trembling. “I- I can’t-“

“It’s fine,” you spoke, feeling how much this guy had cared about future you. You could tell he had missed you, even though you did not know who he was. You didn’t want to find out what had happened to you or what will happen to the future.

Peter kept sniffing even though there was no more tears. He then had went quiet, a silence befallen you guys both. He had looked like he had it rough, you had thought. And by the way he was avoiding eye contact, it looked like it was because of you. “Do- do you want a hug, Peter?”

Peter’s eyes widened, his heart beating rapidly. You looked at him with a smile, trying your best to make him feel better. Whatever happened to you took a toll on him, and if your past-self can help him smile, then of course you’d do that. Peter nodded, letting out a little sob as he walked over to you and embraced you.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Y/N,” Peter sobbed out as you rubbed his back, not understanding why he was apologising but happy to comfort him. “I- I’m so so sorry. I miss you so much, so fucking much.”

“Hey, Hey it’s fine,” you spoke out, not knowing what you were forgiving him for. “Everything’s fine-“

All the sudden, Peter felt you go limp his arms. He was confused at first, feeling you get heavier by the secound. He pulled back from the hug only to see unconscious, a dart on your neck.

He looked up to see who had thrown the dart at you, only to see an angry looking Stark man. He had his fist pointed towards you, where the dart had left his suit. He shook his head at Peter, letting out a scoff. “You can’t just tell people your from the damn future Parker! You know what that can do?”

“I-I couldn’t lie okay,” Peter defended himself, slowly placing her on the floor as he faced Tony. “I saw her and all the sudden, I felt like I was 16 again. Not the man I am today but the man I was before. And- and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

Tony let out a sigh, shaking his head as he walked over to Loki’s spectre and grabbing it. “It’s fine. Lets just get out of here before I come in which is in about 5 minutes. Hopefully Y/N thinks this was all a dream.”

Peter nodded, glancing at you who was sleeping soundly on the floor. He smiled at you, getting down to move a hair strand from your face. He then heard his and Tony’s watch beep, indicating that it was time to head back to the Avenger’s compound.

Their bodies were sucked back into the Quantum Realm, multiple lights and colours surrounding the Parker boy. He felt the familiar nauseating feeling before his feet landed on a solid surface.

Peter let out a deep breath, smiling excitedly as he looked around. Everyone had the stones. They did it. They actually managed to pull it off. His smile then faltered when he didn’t see Natasha. “Where- where’s Nat?”

The silence from Clint tells them all they need to know. The mission was completed but at a dire cost. Sadness overtakes everyone. Bruce falls to his knees and pounds the floor in grief.

Peter gulps, sadness consuming his body. She was right next to him. A few moments ago, Natasha was right next to him. She was all giddy and happy to finally get you back. But now?

She was never going to see you come back.

Peter looked around, watching all the Avengers mourn the red headed warrior. He didn’t know her much, but he knew she was loved. An assassin who turned out to be a caring, motherly and leader figure.

The sun set along the horizon as the Avengers looked out into the sunset. A tear escaped Steve’s face as he looked down at his hands. Peter was upset, but he wasn’t crying. He didn’t know her all to well. But he knew he didn’t have the heart to let you know if you come back.

“Did, um,” Peter begun, brushing his hair back as he looked at Tony and then to the lake. “Did she have a family”

“Yeah,” Tony spoke, his voice cracking as he shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “Us. Y/N. Wanda. Even Vision.”

“You're acting like she's dead. Why are we acting like she's dead?” Thor got up, tears welling up in his eyes as he paced around the room, shaking his head in denial. “We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring her back, isn't that right? So stop this shit. We're the Avengers, get it together.”

Clint stared at the ground solemnly, his voice lacking emotion. “We can't get her back.”

“Wha- what?” Thor laughed bitterly, now stopping in front of Clint. Tony shook his head, getting up to stand away from the commotion. He had lost a friend, a sister. She may have betrayed him, but he knew that deep down she would die for him. For the whole world. And it was proven today the lengths that Natasha would go through for Humanity.

“It can't be undone. It can't.”

“I'm sorry. No offense, but you're a very earthly being. Okay?” Thor spoke, as Peter watched the God’s way of dealing with grief. “We're talking about space magic. And "can't" seems very definitive don't you think?”

“Look, I know that I'm way outside my paygrade here,” Clint spoke, his voice rising from anger as he too stood up. “But she still isn't here, is she?”

“Now, that’s my point isn’t it-“

“-It can't- be undone. Or that's at least what the, great floating guy had to say,” Clint shouted, his face turning red from anger. “Maybe you wanna go talk to him? Okay? Go grab your hammer, and you go fly and you talk to him.”

Clint's anger is quickly replaced with grief as he slowly sits back down. “It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamned stone. She bet her life on it so that Y/N would come back.”

In a burst of anger, Bruce grabs a bench and hurls it clear across the lake. His anger spent, he turns to the others with a resigned look on his face. “She's not coming back. We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

Steve stood up, a determined look on his face as he looked at all the Avengers, including Peter who was quiet in the whole ordeal.

“We will.”

“Alright, gloves ready,” Rocket spoke, making Peter’s ears perk up. He had changed into his old Iron-spider suit that Tony had to adjust to fit his now taller and bulkier frame. “Question is, who’s gonna wield it.”

Peter looked around for any volunteers. He saw Thor get up, a smile on his face as he approached Rocket. “I'll do it.”

“Excuse me?” Scott asked, looking confusedly. Thor mustn’t been serious, Scott had thought. He’s mental health has been too damaged for him to wield the gauntlet.

“It's okay.”

“No, no, no,” Tony spoke as everyone else held Thor back. Peter watched behind the sidelines, rubbing his beard. It was a bad habit he had. “Whoa. Stop. Stop. Wait a sec. Hey, hey.”

“Wait, wait, wait, Thor, just wait,” Steve spoke, holding Thor back. “We haven't decided who's gonna put that on yet.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Thor scoffed, shaking his head at Steve. “What, were you just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?”

“We should at least discuss it,” Scott spoke up, looking at the Norse God.

“Look, us sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back,” Thor shot back, trying to walk over to the gauntlet. “I'm the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It's my duty.”

“It's not that-“

“Stop it! Just let me-“ Thor yelled at Tony, his voice stopping as his eyes teared up. “Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something great.”

“Look,” Tony spoke, grabbing Thor gently by the shoulders. “It's not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent, I'm telling you you're in no condition.”

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive,” Bruce begun speaking, moving forward. “The radiation's mostly gamma. It's like- uh, I was made for this.”

Bruce picks up the gauntlet carefully as everyone was watching him. It was an eerie feeling was being generated within the room. Bruce could die today from snapping his fingers.

Worse, what if half the population couldn’t be brought back? What if they’re really dead? All these hope that was brought back in Peter’s life. His Aunt, Ned and you. If all of you didn’t come back, Peter wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He had prayed that the hope given to him manifests.

“You remember everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bringing them back to now, today,” Tony spoke as he watched Bruce look at the gauntlet in anticipation. “Don’t change the past 5 years. F.R.I.D.A.Y., do me a favor and activate Protocol 8.”

Peter watched as the Avengers facility goes on lockdown. Metal covers shields the windows, doors are immediately locked and the room he was standing in was now darker than it was before. Bruce looked intently at the Gauntlet, his face now determined. “Everybody comes home.”

Bruce puts on the gauntlet and the power surge overwhelms him. He grunts in pain, his veins now on display in multiple colours of the infinity stones.

“Take it off. Take it off!” Thor yelled at his long time best friend.

“No, wait,” Steve cut him off, running over towards the green giant. “Bruce, are you okay?”

“I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Thor gives a double thumbs up, making Peter roll his eyes at him. He continued watching as Bruce screamed, fighting through the intense pain coursing through his body courtesy of the gauntlet, and manages to snap his fingers. He faints and the gauntlet slides off his arm. Clint kicks it away like it was a toy.

The Avengers run towards Bruce whilst Peter gets up from his position. He looks around, to see if anything looked different, even though he was inside. “Did it work?”

Peter suddenly feels his phone vibrate. He was confused at first, as no one had his phone number after the snap. His eyes widened, his body went cold as he read the name. He pressed answer, his voice stuttering. “H-hello?”

“Peter! Where have you been!” He heard his Aunt’s angry voice yell at him. “The principal called, said you left the school trip! Peter I get you’re Spider-Man but please, let me know where you’re going next time!”

A tear left his eye, quickly wiping it away as he nodded. “O-okay.”

“Guys!” Scott yells as Peter ends the call and puts it back on the table, his hands still shaking from the ordeal. It had worked. His Aunt was back, and you and Ned are also possibly back as well. “I think it worked!”

Peter let out a smile, before the hairs on his arm stood up, faltering the smile. His eyes widened, feeling the missle hurdling towards them before running over and covering Clint with his body.

Peter felt his body go hot as he fell down below the ground. His body hit a rough surface, before Clint’s body had toppled on top of him. Clint was human, he needed the extra protection he could get.

Peter groaned, looking around. Water was quickly trinkling around him. The gauntlet laid right beside him and Clint looked like he was in shock. Peter closed his eyes, knowing there will be a fight that will determine the fate of all mankind.

Whether or not his hope will manifest.

1K notes · View notes

thetorturerwrites · 4 years

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Lamb: Ch 2 - Someone Like You

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

Summary: “You need someone in the middle—not dead, not alive.” You arched upwards, trying to get even a bit of slack, just enough to speak. “Someone like me.”

C/N: Look - If you’re new here, this is adult shit. If you’re not new here, you know what my C/Ns are about. Be warned.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Did I ever think I would be writing about Kylo and babies? No. No, I did not. Am I writing about Kylo and babies? Maybe. Its a crazy, crazy world, y'all.

Special thanks to @kylorengarbagedump for helping me edit this asshole of a chapter.

***

“Retribution.”

The word sounded ludicrous on his lips, infantile and irresponsible. Abruptly, you had a clearer picture of what was happening. In this mesmerizing nirvana, his encapsulated kingdom, you were a child, stumbling into an adult’s arena to demand attention.

Your senselessness laid bare, you stared at him, adrift in the gleam of irises that never settled on one color. The pregnant moon overhead framed him, adorning his breathtaking face with a perfect, glowing halo. He was unnaturally beautiful, the kind of king women wept for.

��Father...”

He met your whisper with a sneer, and you recoiled. He, too, thought your trek here was juvenile; you were just a witless woman wrestling with her emotions. Your heart sank at his judgment, disappointed that he thought you naïve.

Ashamed, you fixed your eyes upon a creeping succulent. You traced thick, tear-shaped leaves and winced at inch-long thorns. You could all but feel the phantom pinpricks. The red and pink blooms made for a variegated shroud to decorate the otherwise plain shrine.

It was lovely in its lethality, a fitting summation of this place.

“The Resistance slaughtered my planet, my ENTIRE family.”

You licked your lips and tugged at his sleeve, pulling yourself up to sit. Recognizing what you had just done, you wrung your hands, as though he was a walking electric current. Even so, he was the only bit of warmth in this melancholy vale, and you subconsciously leaned into it.

“You’re a fool.” He rose to an obscene height and moved away. “I care less than a whit for your holy wars. You murder on fantasy, not truth.”

The absence of his body was nearly as painful as his lack of understanding, and the resultant shout erupted before you could stop it.

“IT WAS NOT OUR WAR!”

Your exclamation bounced off shedding trees to die away in spongy, mossy hills. Sniffling, you pressed the heels of your hands into exhausted eyes. Yelling at men was an awful idea; yelling at this specific man was the epitome of lunacy.

How were you going to explain the hole in your soul to a creature who had none? To Ren, your mourning and loss were just specks in eternity, but he didn’t spend his days loving the living only to lose them. If your grandmother's stories were true, he had been this walking void since his creation.

And the brothers made themselves a land with a great vault separating light from dark. In their wisdom, they decreed the living would gather under golden sun, and the dead would gather under silver moon. Grandfather Sky Walker gave his blessing: Let them rule over these lands through all ages. Let there be day and night, and let them usher in The Balance.

He was here. It was true.

That cast his indifference into an unusual shade of acceptance. Like this place, he existed outside of the universe’s organic stream. It wasn’t a lack of feeling; it was one colored by millennia of demise.

You were struck by the understanding that he made everything here in his image, all of it immaculate, alluring, and fatal. Just as he was.

“The Resistance decimated my planet on a rumor—a rumor that we were a First Order cult.” Your voice was steadier than you expected. “But my family, my friends and everybody I knew...We were just ordinary people.”

You lifted your eyes and found him examining you, a curious look playing across his striking features. You huffed a pained breath and looked away again, fearing you would shatter under his scrutiny.

“My grandmother believed in the Balance, not in some notion of wiping the Galaxy clean of Soloists.”

His silence was deliberate, aimed to unnerve, and you crumpled forward, bending as though you could implore his aid into reality. When he moved, it was to stalk a circle around the altar. His head cocked to assess your every angle. Captured prey, you could do nothing but watch, wait, wonder.

“Belief in the Balance will not return your family. Nor will I.”

His glorious voice had bite; but where there should be an echo, there was none. Every lilting tree, every swaying vine, even the very air enveloped him, moved with him, absorbed his energy.

Hugging yourself, you fought down your apprehension.

“No, it won’t.”

You looked past him to fat carmine leaves and marveled at how they turned their faces towards The Ren, their master.

He only understood in terms of the absolute.

“I came to ask you to kill them—the people who murdered my family. The Resistance.”

His circuitous pacing ended at your front, and he speared you with such a look you felt conquered. If he was the next crusade, the holy war renewed, you would fight for him, lay down and die for him.

His long fingers slid you to the altar's precarious edge. So near to him, your comatose heartbeat increased, thudding against ribs his knuckles skimmed.

“All of them?”

You nodded, meek and uncertain. He stepped in, spreading your legs wide just by his body’s substantial design. He was the epitome of domineering, his shape meant to terrorize the weak, to endure immortality.

Uncertain if you were allowed to put your hands on him, you braced against the slab, leaning slightly away.

The scent of this place, misty and piny and richly floral, was powerful, distilled to purity in his body. It seeped from his pores, the sumptuous belladonna curling around you like tainted tendrils. He obscured what scant light there was and blotted out your senses, filling your light head with dread and longing.

With one finger under your chin, he lifted your face and beckoned you into such a trance you didn’t notice how he lazily caressed your outer thigh. One by one, he tugged upon the plum, plump bows keeping the rest of you hidden.

“What price are you willing to pay for genocide, lost lamb?”

It was hypnotic—the timbre of his voice, the delicate dance of his fingertips, the starry shine of his eyes. You blinked at his question, too caught up in the slow drag of his knuckles along your sternum and down between your breasts.

Your lips worked feebly, discarding every suggestion your brain made. What could you offer a being such as this? Prayers? He would condemn them. Offerings? Paltry trinkets. Blood? You’d already given it. Pleasure? You weren’t sure he was capable.

It was a cruel game, and the realization burst over you like icy water, flooding your addled mind and shocking you back from stupidity.

You had nothing. Purposefully divested of everything, you sojourned here a destitute fool.

“There it is.” He brushed a thumb across your lips, smirking. “She understands now that she has nothing, is nothing, of value with which to bargain.”

He collected your silent tears and fed them to you, salt in the wound. Chidingly, he wrapped stiff fingers around your quivering neck and squeezed until you felt your supernaturally sustained pulse drumming in your ears.

“It is as I said. The dying lamb has no value to the shepherd.”

Fear licked at your nape, clamoring into the rational parts of you. Your mind whirred, desperately trying to unearth some kernel that would serve your purpose. There had to be something.

The memory struck you suddenly and at full velocity. Careening, your breath stopped. The lineage of Soloists was a pastime for your brother, who made you sit through innumerable sessions and lectures.

And Solo took himself a wife, making her flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone. Their union was prosperous, and she begat him many sons, the first being...

Your body shot into motion, vacating all self-preservation. You grasped his hand and pulled it to your chest. You were even so bold as to thread your smaller fingers through his. On instinct, both legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging into his legs in a feeble hold.

You were unwilling to renounce your argument without a fight. Hastily, the words spilled out, a wishful wine you weren’t sure he would drink.

“NowaitIcanbeyourvessel!”

A perfectly sculpted black brow rose over his eye. He untangled his fingers from yours, scoffing. Your face burned, impossible beads of sweat forming at your pounding temples. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you pressed them to your flaming cheeks and tried to calm yourself.

“Choose your next words carefully.”

Entertained by the toddler, he was indulging your delusions, but there was a limit to his patience. Sturdy hands slid beneath your thighs, parting and lifting them so he could draw your hips further into his. You couldn’t argue; you were the one who stopped him from leaving.

Was that an erection you felt there? Was this proof to your curiosity? The possibility sent goose flesh tingling to every inch of your skin.

“Your brother... Ah!”

Athame in hand, he gouged the tip into your unblemished thigh, raising a lone drop of blood.

“Your brother has many children; does he not? There are stories about his prolific family.”

Out sized, you spiraled into anxious desire. When he tired of your nonsense, pulverizing your bones would be little more than a snap of his fingers. Yet, here he was, still wedged between your thighs and feeling a lot like a man who could make you forget your name.

“Reminding me of my brother is not the way to make your case, lamb.”

He dragged warm lips over your pulse, lathing it with his tongue. His wide palm wrapped around your generous hip, and every single thought fled on bated breath. He was woefully seductive, a wolf in shepherd's clothing.

You licked your lips and shook your head, trying to agree and clear away cobwebs, but his hands and nipping kisses befuddled you so much you could only sputter half-formed words. Switching your concentration to the blade, you valiantly tried to keep track of it and tied yourself to it's path like a lifeline.

“But you don’t.” You splayed your fingers out wide, palms flat on the altar. "Your seed will kill a living woman, yes? But a woman already crossed over cannot carry a child."

You were about to launch yourself from the proverbial cliff. Regardless of what came next, you would be a splatter at its bottom.

“I- I can.” You begged the endless midnight sky to strengthen your resolve. “You can have me.”

He had been rubbing you up and down his rigid length, your body no more than an instrument to appease his ardor; but at your declaration, he gripped your hips painfully tight and bit your shoulder.

Attuned to his mood, the stars dimmed to a faint radiance. It was the one detail your brain could latch onto, the way even the greatest of them conformed to his will.

“You think that’s a novel gesture? That you’ll be the first person I’ve fucked here?” His voice was low but no less edgy. “How many would you wager have died screaming at the end of my dick?”

A pathetic whimper escaped your open mouth, and hunger set it to watering. The idea of him fucking you here, in this open clearing under his meticulously curated twilight, was salacious, tantalizing.

“Countless.” You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips, trying to jump start his back into rhythm. “But I would wager very few of them have been willing to bear your children.”

He growled, a vicious, threatening promise. His soft touch turned angry, coiling into your hair and yanking your head back. Your throat seized, elongated by his grip and fully bared for execution. What had been a grazing scratch of your blade turned again to a harsh point dug into the skin.

You could hardly speak, reduced to gaping at his flashing onyx eyes. They blazed with a fiery hatred, and you knew it was because you were right. It wasn’t easy for him like it was his brother. He had spent eons alone whereas his brother wanted for nothing.

It infuriated him.

“You need someone in the middle—not dead, not alive.” You arched upwards, trying to get even a bit of slack, just enough to speak. “Someone like me.”

He curved around you so tight you could smell the deadly nightshade on his breath, every single part of him designed to snuff out life. You chewed the inside of your cheek, wondering how each part of him tasted.

“Someone like you?” He spat the words, fingernails digging into your scalp. “Impure? Spoiled by how many men in your lifetime? Cowed by a little death and stupid enough to make demands of me?”

He was so close to snapping your neck, and you itched for it. You would gladly die at his hand, reunite with your family. All of these morose colors blended with the sorrow in your heart, and you pictured your bones rotting to dust, anchoring you here forever.

But he held off, glaring down at you in barely-checked contempt.

Caught between wanting to die and wanting to murder, your breathing tilted into erratic, skirting panic so closely a fallen eyelash would detonate the bomb in your chest.

He looked at you in such a way, though, that your apprehension settled. He was angry because he didn’t know how to feel things. He was intended, to his very marrow, to only ever take. Anything else was uncomfortable and worthy of destruction.

You nudged his nose with yours, a mirror to his earlier gesture.

“Someone willing.” It was less than a whisper, barely a breath.

His calculating gaze roamed your face, judging the depth of your commitment. In seconds, the pointed extension of his anger sliced down your supple thigh, cutting open a large gash.

But pain wasn’t his target.

His aim was true. The rogue missile was expertly guided. And when the thing forced into your cunt, you screamed in unmitigated horror.

“I’m no gentle lover, and this is not your marriage bed. Willing or not, the lamb is meant to be slaughtered.”

You splintered into a wrecked and blubbering mess, heaving and howling. You clung to his shoulders, gouging little crescents into his neck. You had expected to die today but not by the blade cleaving apart your pussy. Offering him your womb seemed to make him only want to carve it from your body, a trophy to mark your idiocy.

“You should not offer things that don’t belong to you, lamb.” The vibration tickled your earlobe, drawing you down from your mania. “Your body was mine the moment you crossed into my land.”

You felt it then, the shift and nudge inside your cunt. Where you were certain there had been a sharp edge, there was only an ornately ridged column, handcrafted and safe.

It was the hilt.

The wave of frenzy crested, and you opened puffy, red eyes onto a lucent, luminous moon.

He had buried the knife’s handle into your cunt and was pumping it slowly. He held the traitorous blade without even a single red cell shed.

You wailed a halfhearted objection because this was a profane corruption of a consecrated relic. A particularly long drag of the makeshift phallus countered and shook loose a vulgar moan, and you squeezed tight around it.

It was shameless and sacrilegious.

And it felt so, so good.

You whimpered when he licked your lower lip, barely making contact. Your thighs splayed wide, eager, and an appreciative noise rumbled in his throat. He rewarded your responsiveness with another slow, deep plunge of the weapon, and your head lolled back.

“How is your religion serving you now, lamb?”

He shoved the handle as far into you as the guard would allow and worked it back and forth, rubbing the ridges and pommel against the sensitive spots inside. You moaned sinfully loud, and grasped at him.

He was ruthless, prodding the elusive bumpy patch until you bucked against his hand and watching you float through this immoral delirium.

You wished it was him. His mouth, his fingers, his cock. Anything but this false idol ramming into your pussy.

Your whimpers turned to pleasured cries. Your calves tensed and shook. Looking down on his blasphemous claim, you yelped and pushed at his arms, the torrent of blood splashed over your thighs and sex wrenching you from your high.

In your hysteria, you’d forgotten that he’d sliced open your leg.

“Father, please…”

He dug his thumb firmly into the wound, gripping nearly your entire thigh in the one tremendous hand. For a moment, the throb in your pussy traveled up to swirl around the intrusion, and you writhed to get away.

“If you call me that again,” he bit your jaw, raising a welt, “I will slit you open from cunt to crown.”

He played in the plasma, coating his fingers with it. You whined and grimaced, caught between salvation at your cunt and persecution at your leg. When his tacky thumb connected with your clit, you shouted, wracked with tremors. Like a savage, he masturbated you with your own blood, rubbing fast circles.

Rapture barreled down the length of your spine, working its way through every extremity. You were going to cum for him, at the end of your family's treasured athame, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

It was indecent, and you drowned in it. You collapsed back onto the altar, arching up into a delicious bow. Your knees drew up higher, and your hips worked for him, chasing what he dangled but never quite delivered. Your fingers scrambled against the uneven stone and fisted the velvet garment.

Your insides coiled, churning terror and thirst together until you couldn’t tell one from the other. Inching closer and closer to that crack of lightning, your cries built, a tumultuous, hoarse crescendo. You thought he would make you tow that line forever, so close to bliss but never allowed to feel it.

But finally, mercifully, it came.

A blistering exaltation slid over your every nerve. Your cunt clenched and quaked, gushing a lewd prayer. The knife in his hand was the center of all gravity, and every part of you swiveled around it, rolling and bucking and shaking. You hurled a string of curses no priestess should ever know, earning a derisive chuckle.

“Such filth from that pretty mouth.”

Spent, your back finally met the slab beneath, and you fought for breath, chest stinging and throat crackly. A pained whine escaped when his torture implement departed from your slick center, but he gave you only a brief reprieve.

He climbed above you, dropped his heavy knee onto your sensitive mound, and shoved the sullied hilt into your mouth. Your eyes flew open, but he captured your jaw and kept it in place, ensuring that you held the thing upright.

Copper tang pooled on your tongue and wafted under your nose. On a muffled whinge, your eyes rolled back into your head. Automatically, obediently, you rocked your hips under his trap.

“No less than you deserve.” He was all spite and venom. “Swallow.”

You couldn’t look at him, the stars in his eyes daunting and demonic. Your tongue moved around the hilt, licking away the remnants of your vulgar display. You curled your fingers into the hem of his shirt, exhaled slowly through your nose, and complied, gulping the taste down.

A timid glance found him studying you, but you didn’t know what he was seeking. Obedience? Passion? Reverence? The gravity of the moment was inescapable. He was deciding if you died here and now, and he gagged you from making any further entreaty.

Lithe for his size, he slid from the perch and pulled the athame from your mouth. Silently, he lifted you from the slab and dropped you on the ground. Not knowing if any of the flora was poisonous, you squealed, shot to your feet, and clutched the abused blade to your heart. A second later, you nearly impaled yourself with it when he threw the hefty book at you.

Grateful that he didn’t destroy your remaining link to your family, you sunk to the ground and dug aching fingers into the dirt. It was cool and soothing, and you wanted nothing more than to lie down in it and die.

Instead, you watched, benumbed and mute, as he punched a large hole straight through the center of the altar. It should have been alarming; the crash of rubble should have scared you, but your senses were far past overstimulated.

Silently, he manipulated a chunk of the altar into a slender loop.

It was astonishing. He was literally creating something from stone that should have been unyielding. Crouching beside you, he pushed your chin up to lengthen your neck. It was then you understood what was happening. The thing he was fashioning out of the imbrued marble was for you.

Without a word, he molded it around your neck, cementing it with a pinch of his mighty fingers.

His masquerade as a man fell away. That shrine had stood for a thousand years, likely more, and he demolished it as though it was parchment. He had desecrated the altar to enslave you, spinning an infinite bondage into existence with his very will alone.

The strength, the unfathomable power unleashed a yearning you weren't prepared to address. He was something wholly beyond what you'd been taught. He was profound, unknowable.

You ran your fingertips along the jagged edges and discovered his collar was perfectly measured to your size. His fingers would fit between it and your skin, but nothing more.

Every story you ever heard about this place rang in your ears, a raucous chorus of warnings. The living could not stay here, nor could they take anything from here.

But it was too late.

By your own hand, you now existed between life and death, trapped here by this pillaged, obsidian tether and it's king.

You didn’t know if he would do as you asked or if he would make you bear his children.

You did know that you would never be leaving.

#kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo x reader #lamb

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