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recuira · 7 months

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after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

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chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five

chapter six | drunk. drool. darkness.

her pov;

I felt like an idiot. Like a fool.

When I came downstairs the following morning, with a pounding headache nearly blinding my vision, I spotted my mother collapsed on the couch rather than in her own bed. The kitchen was surprisingly clean, as well as the dining room table. She definitely didn't tidy up after that disaster of a night, so who did?

I walked past the stairs and into the kitchen, attempting to search for any kind of medicine to hopefully soothe the aching headache I had. I sorted through a kitchen cabinet before finding a small bottle of painkillers my mother was prescribed when her illness was first diagnosed. I placed two tablets in my mouth and dipped my head underneath the sink faucet, pouring a bit of water into my mouth to swallow the pills. Stepping back, I grabbed a pot from the stove, glaring at my sleeping mother.

I dropped it on the tiled floor.

In a split second, she shot up awake, groaning. "What the hell was that?!" She spat, grabbing her head while also covering her eyes.

"Good morning," I said as I forced a smile. I placed the pot back atop of the stove. "What happened last night?"

"Why the fuck should I know?" She cursed, laying back down.

"Where'd Buggy go?"

"Home?"

I frowned. I wasn't going to get any answers from her.

I ventured back upstairs into my bedroom where I could let my eyes settle in the cold and darkness. I closed the door behind me and approached my bed but before I climbed on it, I noticed a small green blur in the corner of my vision. Turning my head, I found the small turtle stuffed animal laying on the floor.

I treated my stuffed animals like they were living. To let them touch the floor rather than my own bed would be a sin.

Why was it on the floor?

Then it hit me.

Buggy threw it there.

I sat on my bed, holding the plushie close to my person. Last night, after dinner, I stormed up to my bedroom to be alone and to calm down due to the big fight my mother and I had. Then he came into my room to console me. Then-

"Oh my god."

I couldn't believe it. I practically threw myself onto him. Then he turned me down and after that, my mind drew a blank. I recalled vague bits here and there but the most clear occurrence was that of him leaving. Did I kick him out? Or did he leave willingly?

I touched my mouth with the stuffed animal. The feeling of his lips on mine was something I couldn't forget. For such a rough and rugged man, his lips and touch were so soft. I smiled to myself before falling onto the bed, my eyes drifting to a close.

Before I thought more about all of this, I needed to get rid of this headache.

-=-

I felt so stupid. Like a clown.

As I remembered more about the event, the more my self-esteem dropped. I never, in a thousand years, would have ever imagined myself getting drunk on red wine and then throwing myself onto a man with a red, clown nose. I frowned. His nose wasn't the issue. I liked him. I really did. He was kind and thoughtful for someone who used to be a bloodthirsty pirate. He went out of his way to please me which no one has ever done before.

And how do I thank him?

By making out with him and then kicking him out after he didn't reciprocate. I invite him over for dinner then throw him out.

This is why I hated alcohol.

It made stupid people do stupid things.

I was completely embarrassed with myself- so embarrassed, in fact, that I didn't reach out to Buggy for an entire month. How could I possibly be able to face himself after such an incident? Would I not mention it? Do I shake his hand and apologize and ask him to never bring it up again? Or do I kiss him again and see if my effort will mean something to him this time?

No, I'm an idiot. I ruined such a great friendship due to a few too many glasses of cheap red wine.

I blamed my mother for this entirely- and myself, of course. But if it weren't for her selfish and conniving personality, Buggy wouldn't have been invited for dinner. He and I would still be talking. I would see him everyday like I had been.

I vowed to my mother that as soon as I made enough money, I was moving out and cutting all ties with her. She simply laughed at me.

And so, for the past month, I kept my promise and sought out to look for jobs. Nothing dirty, of course.

I landed a waitress gig at a small run-down pub that hardly housed any customers other than drunken pirates and businessmen. I've only been here a few times before and it was the same pub I met Buggy at. Ever since that night, I haven't returned until today. The owner told me that the blue-haired piratehardly inhabited this bar which I was thankful for. I still needed to properly digest everything and when I was ready to confront him, I would. I just hoped it would be soon.

I was surprised to see that he didn't reach out either.

Maybe I scared him off.

As I cleaned off one of the tables, I tried to ignore the loud yells from behind me. Surprisingly, there was a huge flood of new patrons. My boss told me there was a soccer game and that's why everyone decided to eat and drink at the same place.

I didn't mind it too much. It meant more tips.

The rest of the night went by fast and just as we neared closing, I sat by myself in a corner booth, counting the change and money I made in just a few hours. One hundred and twenty berries. I smiled to myself, recounting to see if my math was correct.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-

The bell above the door jangled as someone walked inside. I kept my head low and proceeded to count before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"We're not closed yet, Y/N. Go assist that customer, please." The man pointed at a booth. "Now."

I huffed and stood up, slipping the loose change into a pocket in my apron. I grabbed the notepad and a pen and started towards the booth.

With a closed-eye smile, I greeted the patron. "Hello, what can I get for you tonight?

"Y/N?"

I opened my eyes and there he sat. "Buggy," I whispered.

I nearly cringed.

His long blue hair was tied in a loose ponytail with the same striped bandanna wrapped around his scalp. His makeup was streaking down his sweaty face. The buttons of his striped vest were misaligned with the wrong slots. His blue-painted fingernails were chipped. And the worst of it, he wrank of liquor.

He was swaying in his seat, his arms resting across the table.

"H-Haven't-" hiccup! "-seen you in a while," He smirked. "You miss me?" His words slurred and his green eyes were nearly swollen shut. I frowned at this and took a seat beside him, nudging him to the other side of the booth. He giggled and his arm lifted before slinging over my shoulder.

"What's going on?" I whispered, hoping my boss wouldn't see me.

"What? Nothing!" He murmured.

"You're shitfaced. Why?"

"I dunno'. Got bored..." Buggy hummed and smiled up at me. His fingers began to mess with my hair. "Yer' working now?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Well, I wouldn't know! I haven't seen you in years..." He pouted.

"It's been a month."

"Whatever. Get me a beer, will ya?"

I laughed. "No! You're already too far gone. I'll get you a water." I pulled myself away from him and stood up, making my way behind the counter. Pouring him a glass of water, I watched as he proceeded to hiccup, playing into the drunkard stereotype all too well. Why was he like this? I've never seen this before. Why did he drink so much? As I approached him, he reached for me. I whacked his hand away and slid the cup toward him. This time, I sat across from him.

He glared at the drink before chugging it all, some water dripping down his stubbled chin. I crossed my arms and examined him. He was a complete and utter mess. It almost disgusted me to see him in this light. Someone I respected so much was now stooping to the same level as my mother.

"Buggs, what's happening here?"

"What?" He tilted his head. "Yer' supposed to be my waitress. You haven't taken my order yet," The pirate grumbled, reaching to grab at the paper menu. He squinted his eyes as he read it. "Get me a sandwich. With... uhm, oh! Meat, cheese, and lettuce." He met my gaze and smiled widely, exposing every single tooth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," I demanded, pointing down at the table. "Is this some ploy to get back at me?"

"W-What? Back at you?" He snickered. "Yer' cute, kiddo."

"Don't call me that."

"Cute or kiddo?"

"Both."

"What would you rather me say?" He smirked and leaned forward, gesturing his hand for me to get closer. I did, also leaning in. "Your- hehe, your tits look amazing in that top?"

I gasped and pushed him back. "Fuck you!"

"What?! Which would you rather me call you?" He pursed his red-stained lips together.

"By my fucking name, you idiot."

"Okay! Y/N," He started, letting out a soft burp. "Where's my sandwich?"

"You'll get it once you start talking."

"I've been talking! I can't win with you." His eyes rolled. "Women."

I hit him atop of the head this time and he yelped, immediately shrinking down as his arms hovered over his head.

"You're the one who kicked me out! Why are you still acting so mad... I'd think you'd be happy to see me again, but- but, I was wrong..."

"I am happy to see you but-"

"You are? Really?" The look on the clown's face broke my heart. He was so surprised, so shocked to find out that I missed his company. “I-I’m glad.” His head dropped for a moment and he looked down at his lap. “I’ve been, uh, g-going through a lot.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” He let out a loud hiccup then clutched his throat. “That one hurt.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

His broad shoulders shrugged back. “Maybe I will. I just need something- uh, something to eat.”

Getting something in his stomach might help him sober up fast but my mom always told me that the only way to sober up was through time. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

I got up from the table and began to walk toward the kitchen but a floating hand grabbed at my wrist. It gave my arm a tight tug before I looked back at Buggy. I raised an eyebrow but he just gave me a toothy grin then let go. Venturing into the kitchen, I let the chef know that it was the last meal of the night. He was reluctant because it meant he needed to put out his cigarette but he gave me a firm nod and told me to wait a couple of minutes. I agreed with him then went to peek on the blue-haired clown. He rested his head on his hands, his eyes closed. His long eyelashes casted a dim shadow over his eyelids. His lips parted, a small drop of drool running down his chin. Was he asleep?

Before I could admire him any further, the chef tapped on my shoulder and handed me the tray of food. A sandwich sat upon the plate with potato salad to the right of it. I thanked him and brought the meal to Buggy. I set it in front of him then took a seat.

“Buggy?” I nudged his shoulder. “Your food is here.”

“I’m not hungry.”

What? “What? You just said you were.”

“I lied. I want to go home.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Because the other bar kicked me out ‘cause I had too much to drink,” He mumbled into his arm. “I wanted to drink more but then I- I saw you. So I wanted to stop.”

“You stopped drinking because of me?”

“I was drinking because of you.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together. What was he babbling about now? Before I could protest, he reached forward, grabbing half of the sandwich with a severed hand. He raised his head and took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds then swallowed. He ate the half then slid me the plate. So much for not being hungry.

I smiled to myself and started to eat, taking the last sip of the glass of water I had brought to him. I finished eating then wiped my mouth with a napkin.

Taking a few bills out of my pocket, I placed it on the table to cover the meal.

But then it hit me.

I could pay him back.

“Buggy, I have great news,” I exclaimed with a wide grin and pulled the loose change out of the apron pocket, the various coins rocking against the table before falling flat. The pirate sat up, a yawn escaping his mouth.

“What?”

“I can pay you back now! I have more than enough!”

“I don’t want you to,” He whispered, sliding it toward me. “I have more than enough. You’re the one who needs it, not me.”

“But you said I could pay you back. That was our deal.”

“Y/N-“

“Take the money, Buggy. Please.”

His green eyes met mine for a split second before he reluctantly gave in. He swiped the money toward him and folded the bills before hiding them away in his pocket. I smiled at him, taking the change he didn’t want to keep.

I looked at him, staying quiet. Was he already sobering up? He was talking normally now; he was hardly slurring his speech. “Can I walk you home?”

He cocked a grin. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Please?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright.”

I clocked out of work and helped Buggy out of his seat. On the walk back to his abode, Buggy leaned against me. My arm wrapped around his shoulders as I guided him down the street. He stumbled with each step and if it weren't for me, I was sure he would've fallen. The man relied on me heavily.

The front door opened with a loud bang. A wave of cold air brushed over me and I shivered. The pirate buried his face into my neck. A red blush washed over my face before I helped him onto his bed. He giggled to himself and extended his foot. I raised an eyebrow.

"Take my shoes off, please." He whispered, his body falling back to lay flat on the bed with his leg still straight out.

I knelt down and slipped each of his boots off. I set them to the left of the nightstand. Standing up, I closed the front door and dropped my backpack beside it. I approached the man and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, turning to look down at him. His eyes were closed. "Buggy, I'm gonna get going now. We can talk tomorrow, okay? When you're sober," I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you need anything before I go?” I was met with silence. I let out a small huff, my hand resting on his leg. I caressed it. I then pulled my hand away but before I could stand up, his hand took my wrist and he gripped it, tightly. I looked back at him. He was now sitting upward.

"Please, no. Please stay the night," He begged, lunging forward. His head fell into my lap and his arms wrapped around my waist. "Don't leave again. Please."

I froze. My eyes grew wide, my arms levitating above the man.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I nodded my head even though he couldn't see me. "Okay, okay." I dropped my hands to rest on his back, tenderly stroking the fabric of his vest. He let out a satisfied hum and remained completely silent. While it wasn't the most comfortable position, I stayed still because it was cozy for him.

I've never seen him in this mood before. I thought alcohol would make him an angry man, maybe rather devious or feisty, but no. It made him sad. It made him vulnerable. Alcohol took his rough exterior and melted it away, revealing a soft side I've never seen before.

His face nuzzled into my thigh.

I listened to his light breathing and brought my hands up to run through his thick blue hair. I was surprised his hair was so long. It was nice, though. It was silky smooth as well.

"Y/N," Buggy whispered into my leg.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for disappointing you."

A frown stayed on my face. I felt my eyes and nose sting. "What?"

"I've done nothing but trouble you. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I would be this much of a burden in your life. I thought I could help but-"

"What are you going on about?"

His head raised and revealed a soaking wet face. A stream of tears ran down his face, his makeup smearing even more than before. I gasped. He sniffled and grimaced. "I look so stupid, don't I?"

"You don't, Buggers. I'm just trying to figure out why you're crying," I whispered, raising my head to cup his cheek. He leaned into my palm and gave me a small, sincere smile. This was hurting my heart.

"We haven't spoken in a month."

"I know, I know. It's my fault, I-"

"Did you just not want to see me anymore?"

I instantly shook my head. "No, no, no. That's not it at all." I wiped a few tears away with my thumb.

"I thought I fucked up so badly," He started, taking a deep breath. "When you came onto me like that, I felt time stop. Literally nothing else mattered to me in that moment other than you. I didn't even fucking care if my heart stopped beating. If being with you was my last moment alive, I'd die a happy man." I sucked in my lower lip, my eyes burning more. "But it felt wrong. You were drunk, p-probably for the first time in your life. I didn't want to take advantage of that. You weren't thinking straight at all. I-I didn't want you to-to regret it the next morning."

"Buggy-"

"You have no idea- no fucking idea how badly I've wanted that. Since the very moment I've laid my eyes on you, I realized there was nothing more I could ever want. You're perfect. A literal angel." I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he continued to speak, making my heart both ache and jump. "My life was so dark before you. I was blinded by greed and-and hatred. I was a cruel man. But seeing you smile, I forget what for, but your smile erupted something in me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about anything else in life other than you. I did some fucked up shit and I feel like you have a right to know." He swallowed then turned his head, facing away from me.

"What do you mean?" Those words scared me.

"Look in the nightstand. There's a book, I think it's the second one. Open it and see for yourself." He sat up and pulled away from me, wiping his nose and eyes. "No more lies or secrets. I want to be completely open and honest with you about everything. If our friendship continues, then I want honesty. You deserve that."

"You're scaring me, Buggy," I murmured and leaned forward, reaching for the drawer. I yanked it open and sorted through the stack of novels. I grabbed the second one and set it in my lap. "Can I just say-"

"No, please look. I need your opinion on me after you see this."

I was horrified.

What was so revolting in this book that he felt the need to hide?

I looked at him, frowning, before dropping my head. I admired the cover of the novel before peeling it open. My eyes widened.

"Read it out loud," The man instructed as he toyed with his bottom lip. He stared at me, not even seeming to blink.

My thumb dragged over the paper to smooth out the crumpled words. “She has the kindest smile. Her generosity is beyond that of anyone I know. She makes me believe in the good of humanity again." I repeated as I read the sentences scattered on the small note of paper. I smiled to myself. "Did you write-"

"Read the next one."

"I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat." I felt my lower lip quiver as salty tears began to cloud my vision. I used my free hand to rub my eyes before I continued. "A-And she caused me to see the world in color. Everything was so bland and dry but the second I saw her, I could see the blue in the sky and the pink petals of cherry blossoms. I could see the light at the end of a tunnel. If I was drowning, I know she would be able to rescue me just from her words of encouragement."

"Do you get it now?" He asked, placing his hand on my knee.

"You like me?" I asked, hesitant.

"What? Really?" He said with a weak laugh. "Of course I do. But I've known you for so long, Y/N. Much longer than you knowing me. I've followed you before, s-stalked you."

I gasped. Oh. I didn't get that from the writings. "You did?"

"Yeah, I did. I've been scheming for months. Trying to figure out how to talk to you o-or get you to say hello to me. Then at the bar-"

"I said hello to you. Were you there because of me?"

"Yeah, it wasn't mere coincidence."

"Woah," I said in awe, my facial expression or tone of voice hiding how I was truly feeling. "That's- wow."

"If you want to leave, I understand. It's a lot, I know. But I promise I've never properly stalk- well, I-I don't know. I just saw you and I knew I needed to know you. I needed you in my life."

"When did you first see me?"

"A fish market. You were giving a kitten some of the scraps."

"I don't even remember that," I admitted with a light chuckle.

"I'm not a creeper pervert or anything, I swear. I've-"

"Buggy, stop panicking. I'm flattered, if anything. I don't hate you. I don't think differently of you either."

He leaned into me, his red nose touching the tip of my own. He wore a wide smile on his face. "Really?" I nodded my head and rested my hand atop of his.

"It's a lot to take in but I'm not creeped out. I just- I had no idea."

"There's a reason I still have a bounty,” He remarked.

I laughed softly. "Very true."

"Do you understand why I was so worried? I thought all of that progress was wasted. I did want to, I really did. God, I wanted to, but-" The man continued to ramble on before I pressed my palm to his red-painted mouth. He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm glad you didn't stay. Genuinely, I would have regretted it. Not because of you, but because I would want to remember a moment like that. I never want to drink again so I can be fully aware of everything we do together," I said as I removed my hand. "I didn't contact you because I was embarrassed with myself. I felt like an idiot. I thought I completely ruined everything. I also wanted to properly deal with my emotions. I wanted to figure out what I felt."

"And what do you feel?"

"The same as you do, though maybe not as extreme."

The pirate cracked a cheeky grin and nudged me.

"But I don't want to rush anything, please. If we do decide to do anything," I cleared my throat. "I want to take things slow. I moved too fast that night and look what happened."

"No, no, yeah. I feel the same way. No rush."

"Do we have a deal?" I extended my hand.

"A deal for what?"

"To do this but take things slow."

"To do what?"

"Buggy, you know what I mean."

"I want to hear you say it."

I huffed and pulled my hand back before he quickly grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. "We can go further with our relationship. How is that?" I smiled.

"Hmm, what do you mean? I'm a little slow, you'll need to spell it-" I kissed him for a split second then pulled back. The expression on his face was priceless. "That's pretty self-explanatory,” He hummed, grinning.

"Good."

"Can I do it again, though?" His hand reached to cup my chin.

"Once," I whispered.

Buggy closed the gap, tilting his head to be able to kiss me properly. It was short but sweet. When he pulled away, he fell against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder. My arms enwrapped his figure and I pulled him close. "Are you tired?" I asked, playing with his ponytail.

"Mhm," He responded, a soft yawn parting from his lips. "You're still staying the night, right?"

"Yeah, I am."

The blue-haired man pulled away from me and swept his legs over the side of the bed "I'll sleep on the floor, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

I grabbed his arm. "Nonsense, it's okay. I get the left side, though."

Buggy grinned, nodding his head. "Yes, ma'am."

I peeled my shoes off, setting them next to his as he began to unfold the sheets. He pulled the blankets back and climbed underneath them. I crawled beside, pushing my legs under the thin blankets. Turning to face Buggy, I tucked my arm under the pillow.

"I'm sorry for being like this, by the way. For being drunk."

"It's okay, just try to stop. If it's okay."

"It is," He whispered while stretching his arm out, slyly letting it sling over my waist. I smirked.

"You were kind of funny, though."

"How so?"

"Slurring your words, repeating yourself, tripping everywhere."

"What can I say? They don't call me a clown for nothing."

"I think the nose and makeup gave you that reputation."

"Nose?" He cocked an eyebrow upward.

"D-Did I say nose? I meant, uh, your hair!"

"Mhm, sure." Buggy tugged me toward him, my face coming into contact with his chest. He let out a groan as he made himself comfortable. "I hope this isn't moving too fast. I'm cold."

"No, this is perfect," I replied with a sheepish smile.

My eyes closed and I shrugged my shoulders back while exhaling a sigh. I was cold but the warmth of his body soothed my goosebumps. I rested my forehead against his abdomen and felt myself beginning to drift off. His chin plopped upon my head and his hand combed through my hair.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" He whispered, his voice raspy as exhaustion took over.

"We'll figure that out when tomorrow arrives. For now, I need sleep."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

I shook my head, whispering a simple 'no'.

"Sorry, I'll let you sleep."

I smirked to myself and tucked myself closer into him.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N," He mumbled as he kissed atop my head.

With those words and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing, I found myself falling asleep. I ignored the stench of alcohol coming from his person and focused on everything else I enjoyed about him.

In one last resort to get comfortable, I turned over, pressing my back against his front. My legs entangled with his and his arm slipped underneath my own. He held my hand.

The last thing I remember was him placing a kiss on the back of my head and then I fell unconscious.

#buggy x reader #buggy smut #buggy #x reader #op buggy #one piece live action #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy opla

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charmandabear · 5 months

Text

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly.

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon.

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable.

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt.

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk.

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone.

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.”

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that.

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you.

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex.

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside.

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other.

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking.

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you.

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his.

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads.

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

Text

I've been promising this one for awhile.

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Starring: Mafia Boss!Sukuna

My contribution to @chrollohearttags Tales from the Underbelly collab! In which Gojo accidentally kidnaps the wrong girl, and our "heroes" have to decide what to do with her.

Content includes: slow burn smut, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, blood kink if ya squint, and slight indulgence of the writers breeding kink.

Trigger warnings include: Kidnapping, gun violence, gore, a dog attack, an attempt at assault and the use of the word "ravenette" once as a dare. Reader discretion is advised.

Your mom had warned you about meeting strange men online. You had assumed at the time it was just her weird boomer-esque tendencies, a fear born before the time of tinder. But as you breathed in your own breath from inside this itchy burlap sack, sitting tied up in this not-at-all comfortable chair, you started to think maaaybe she was on to something.

It wasn’t your fault though, truly it wasn’t. This guy was hot. Like, unbelievably hot. So hot it was stupid. So hot he belonged on the cover of french magazines or in summer blockbuster movies that sell tickets not for the plot- but for the eye candy. Who wouldn’t risk life and limb to get a piece of that? You wondered if Satoru Gojo was his real name, just in case you needed to make a police report. You wondered if you’d get that far.

Okay, Y/n, no no, don’t think like that. That will get you killed. Calm down and assess the situation. What did you last remember? Your date. You met him at a bar, and was genuinely shocked when he matched his profile picture. You made idle chit chat, and your drink came. Did you order that drink? You couldn’t remember now. You did remember it tasting salty for a screwdriver though…

Shit, that guy definitely drugged you. Why?! It made no sense, you probably would have fucked him if he had just asked nicely! Hell, even if he had asked rudely, there was no need for this! You silenced your thoughts as you heard movement. A door opened and the sound of boots on concrete echoed through a far too big to be practical room. And then, a familiar voice.

“No dude, I got her!” That was definitely Gojo, the fuck ass. “It was so easy too.” He was laughing, because of course he was.

“Yea, that’s the problem. Excuse me for being suspicious, but this feels way too easy considering how long we’ve been chasing this woman,” another, much smoother voice said. Oh god, what the fuck had you gotten yourself into now? Why the fuck did weird shit always have to happen to you? It was like you were the main character in some fucked up wattpad, or Tumblr, fanfiction.

“Nah dude, it’s the real deal. Toji doesn’t keep his girl as wrapped up as we’ve been led to believe.” Gojo’s far-too-joyful-for-your-taste voice came again. It was much closer this time. Your body tensed as you realized the two of them were right next to you. “I matched with her on fucking tinder dude! All according to plan!”

“We’ll see about that.” Smoothie voice said. As he did, the bag was ripped off your head, and quite honestly you were too shocked to scream. You took the situation in front of you in with wide panicked eyes. There was your shitty date, looking far too proud of himself considering all he did was kidnap a helpless girl. And another man, crouched in front of your metal chair, taking in your features. Was this just a gang of people that was so attractive it was unfair? He ran a hand though his long dark hair, and knitted his perfectly sculpted eyebrows together as he looked at you. Then shook his head and stood up.

“You really did it now, idiot, that’s the wrong girl!” The ravenette snapped at your former tinder match. Satoru just blinked in disbelief.

“What?” He asked, and Oh boy, your brain started working again! Just in time for you to start screaming at the top of your lungs as the truly horrifying nature of your situation settled into your bones. This startled the men, causing them both to scream, and the dark haired one to even stumble away from you.

“That was such a late reaction!!” Gojo yelled at you as he finally found words again.

“FUCK YOU SATORU GOJO, WHEN YOU KILL ME, I SWEAR I’M GOING TO HAUNT YOUR ASS!” You screamed at him, deciding if you were gonna die here you might as well fling a few threats around.

“You used your real name for the honeytrap?!” The unnamed man hissed, punching Gojo in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Gojo yelped, “I thought it was her! I didn’t think it was gonna matter! What are we going to do Suguru?!” Oh, so Suguru was his name. Good to know.

“Don’t say my name!” Suguru snapped. Too late, you knew it already. “The boss is not going to be happy, you know this, right?”

“Well I mean, I-” Gojo started, before you cut in.

“Can I at least know why you guys are gonna kill me before it happens?” You asked. You wanted to know what to avoid for your next life. Gojo had the audacity to scoff at you.

“Wow, I was literally talking and you interrupted me,” He scoffed, “Rude much?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try to be more considerate of the man who drugged and kidnapped me next time I open my mouth! As if that wasn’t rude as hell!” You hissed.

“Get married later, we have other problems!” Suguru demanded, snapping in front of Satoru to get his attention. “The boss is going to be here any minute, and we have the wrong girl!”

“Why don’t we just kill her?” Gojo asked. And look at that, you were screaming again. They both screamed with you, Suguru screaming over you and adding a “CAN WE PLEASE ALL STOP SCREAMING?!” at the end.

And you did, because technically he had done nothing to wrong you, and you had no beef with him. Satoru shut up when you did. “Thank you!” He snapped, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples to try and fight off the migraine that was forming. “No, Gojo, we can’t just kill her! She’s an innocent, it goes against the code. You and I both know The Boss would have you castrated if you break the code.” Suguru reminded the man next to him. Oh, that was good news.

“So, I’m not gonna die?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna die.” “Nothing is off the table yet.” The men spoke in unison, glaring at each other as they finished their sentences.

“Sooooooo, you’re gonna let me go?!” You asked, beaming with a forced excitement, hoping it would rub off on them and they’d untie you then and there.

“It’s not that easy.” Suguru sighed, “If we let you go now, you’d definitely go to the cops, and you know at least his full name.” He said, glaring at Satoru once again.

“What if I promise not to go to the cops?” You asked.

“You and I both know that won’t work.” He looked almost sympathetic to your plight.

“What if I pinky swear not to go?” You asked. His sympathy vanished.

“In another life, you two are perfect for each other.” He scoffed to Gojo. Mere seconds after he said that, the door behind you opened again. Both men turned their full attention to the footsteps approaching, both looking terrified- though Gojo more than Suguru. You tried to look behind you, but alas, you were not an owl and could not turn your head 360 degrees around.

“What did you two idiots fuck up now?” A low, gravely voice asked behind you.

“What?!” Gojo tried to look offended, “Boss, I’m hurt! Why would you assume we fucked up?” he pouted. Suguru just dropped his head into his hands.

“Because it’s you Satoru, and when I came in here, you both looked at me like I was the cops and you had a corpse.” The voice scoffed, “And that never bodes well. Is that the girl?”

“So, you see, about that-” Suguru started, only to be cut off by a new man shoving his face in yours. The club of people that won the genetic lottery grew, and you hated to admit he was the sexiest member yet. Sharp features made more pronounced by a faceful of tattoos that absolutely shouldn't have been as attractive as they were. Hard eyes seemed to glow an unnatural red in the dim light of this garage(?) and his fluffy pink hair seemed both horrifically misplaced on his head, and perfectly matched all at the same time. Suddenly, you weren’t worried about your future. You were wondering what choices you had to make to sit on that perfectly sculpted face.

WAIT FOCUS Y/N, YOU’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED! You flinched away from him, tensing up because well…that’s what people do in these situations, right? You saw a tic form in his perfect jaw, and he stood up. You got a good look at what he was wearing. Fitted slacks with a dress shirt, a well tailored vest on top making him ooze with expense. The others were dressed nice too, but he somehow managed to outshine them all. Maybe its because his sleeves were rolled up, showing off his tattooed wrists and gorgeous forearms. God truly did have favorites.

“You.” He demanded more than asked, turning to Gojo and pointing at him.

“Yes Sukuna?” Gojo asked, and Suguru couldn’t hold back the groan that ripped from his throat.

“Stop using names you fucking idiot.” Suguru hissed. So his name was Sukuna.

“Gojo come here.” Sukuna said again, instantly shutting up both men. Gojos eyes grew even wider with fear.

“I, um…I’d rather not boss, I-...You’re gonna hurt me.” Gojo gulped.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Sukuna assured him, and for a second he sounded so sincere and comforting, even you believed him.

“D-...Do you promise?” Gojo asked, trepidation still flooding his voice.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.” Sukuna said again. Slowly, like a wild animal learning to trust, Satrou crept over to his boss. It was then you noticed Sukuna’s rings. You noticed them, because the moment Satoru was in bitch slapping range, he got bitch slapped with the ring hand, so hard that if Suguru hadn’t been there to catch him, he would have hit the floor.

“You said you weren’t gonna hurt me!” Gojo yelped. Suguru shook his head, unable to believe his friend fell for that.

“I lied!” The pink haired man snapped, “How’s it feel to be lied to Satoru?! Do you like it?! I know I sure fucking don’t.” He hissed as he slapped him again, “You said you had Toji’s wife! That’s not Toji’s fucking wife you imbecile!”

“Ha, take that asshat, that’s what you get!” You laughed, taking maybe a little bit too much joy in Satoru’s pain. And suddenly, all three men were staring at you. You shrunk a bit at the realization. “My bad, I shouldn’t have spoke,” You muttered, “I’ll let y'all get back to it.”

Sukuna took a long deep breath to try and reregulate himself before turning back to you. “Hi.” He said, giving a smile that you think was meant to be welcoming, but his naturally sharp canines just made it menacing. “Who are you?” He asked.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to tell you my name…” You muttered softly.

“You’re already tied up under my house babe, little late to be shy now.” He pointed out. Fair enough.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You said. He nodded and gave a small wave.

"Hi Y/n. So what all do you kn-"

"Wait, what's your name?" You asked, cutting off a clearly powerful man. “Is Sukuna like, a title, or?” He stopped mid sentence and blinked at you, bringing his hands together in a death grip so he didn’t punch the disrespect out of your mouth.

“Sorry, you threw me off. I’m not used to being interrupted.” He said through gritted teeth.

“That’s a common problem for her!” Gojo accused from Suguru’s arms, pointing for emphasis. This quickly got him dropped. Sukuna glared at him.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop talking.” He threatened Gojo before turning back to you. “My name’s not important right now. What is important is finding out just how much you know. So start talking doll.” He said, going into his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

“So, before I answer, am I more likely or less likely to go home based on how much I know?” You asked, “Cause I’d like to go home in one piece.” The pink haired man laughed at your words as he lit his smoke. Well, laughed is a strong word. More like he aggressively blew air out of his nose, like when you see a funny meme.

“That’s cute Dollface,” He muttered, blowing the smoke out of his lungs, “Answer my question.”

“You answer mine first.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Come on dude, I only want you to answer one question-”

“You only want one question answered?” It did suck to be interrupted, “Fine, I’m Sukuna. Now what do you know about us?” You were confused at first, until you realized he was answering one question you asked. Just not the question you wanted answered. Well shit.

“I know his name is Satoru Gojo, his is Suguru, you’re Sukuna, and you guys are looking for some guy named Toji’s wife. Oh, and Gojo takes dick pics with a ring light.” Sukuna closed his eyes and scrunched his eyebrows at that last part, riding out the cringe wave.

“Dude, you don’t really do that, do you?” Suguru whispered to the man next to him.

“Good lighting makes the picture Suguru.” Gojo whispered back.

“We didn’t need to know that.” Sukuna said, opening his eyes again.

“You asked what I knew.” You said, shrugging as best as you could considering you were tied up.

“What are we going to do Boss?” Suguru asked, getting the team back on track. Sukuna took a long drag off his cigarette, trying to find an answer to that question. You were innocent, nowhere near the syndicates radar. You were a victim of them, it wasn’t fair to kill you for the crime of matching with a loser on tinder. It also went against what they stood for. At the same time though, they couldn’t just let you leave. You knew all of their names, for Satoru you knew his full name. Not only that, there was the risk of you letting it slip they were looking for Toji’s wife. Though, Toji probably knew that, all things considered. She did have a hit called out on Nanami after all, he’d be stupid not to assume they were looking for her. Fuck.

“Bring her upstairs.” Sukuna finally said, rubbing his temple with his free hand. He wondered why he kept Gojo on the payroll. “She’s our guest until further notice.” Suguru and Satoru shared a knowing glance before going and untying you.

“So you’re letting me go?!” You asked hopefully.

“Not quite,” Sukuna informed you, “Until we can find a more…permanent situation for you, you’re now the property of The Syndicate. Make yourself at home Doll.” He said as he put his cigarette back in his mouth.

“Hold on, what?!” You asked, struggling against Gojo and Suguru as they tried to drag you upstairs, “Wait, property?! Wait, hold on!” You yelped. Suguru rolled his eyes, deciding it was easier to just throw you over his shoulder at this point. “Hey! Put me down!”

“I don’t understand why you’re bitching, I thought you didn’t want to die?” He asked. And suddenly, this was all put into perspective for you. You either play nice, or you take a prolonged dirt nap. Shit. Not great options. You decided death wasn’t what you wanted, they did imply this was only temporary after all. You sighed and accepted your fate, going limp on Suguru’s shoulder.

The sudden bright lights of the house blinded you after so long in the dim basement. You were happy when Suguru finally put you down, less so when you heard a giant dog barking, and claws scraping on hardwood. You turned around in enough time to see an absolutely massive Rottweiler running at you full speed, teeth bared. You yelped, going to try and hide behind Suguru or hell even Gojo, only to find they had already backed way the hell up; giving the beast room to turn you into dog food. You closed your eyes and tensed your body as you braced for impact.

The impact never came. When you opened your eyes, all you found was a dopey smile sitting politely in front of you, panting while waiting for pets. “Aww,” You smiled, reaching down to give him some ear scratches. His already wagging tail kicked it into high gear as you did, melting your heart. “You’re just a big baby, aren’t you?” You cooed in your baby voice.

Sukuna came up from the stairs then, rolling his eyes at the scene. “Wow Brutus, good job buddy, you’re so good at being a guard dog. No ones gonna break in here, lest they get drooled on.” He scoffed.

“To be fair, Brutus’ slobber is a genuinely terrifying thing.” Suguru pointed out.

“It gets everywhere.” Gojo confirmed.

“I think you guys are just cowards.” You shrugged, petting the good boy on they head.

“They are.” Sukuna confirmed, also giving Brutus a solid pat for good measure. He turned to you then. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?” You questioned.

“That’s what I said,” His voice had an edge to it, like he was losing his patience with every second that passed. He turned to Gojo and Suguru. “Gojo, you know where she lives right?”

“Yea, I do.” He nodded. You did not like what that implied, considering you hadn’t given him your address. But, you were already kidnapped, so, maybe it was a little late to worry.

“Good. Take Geto and go grab her essentials. Clothes, toothbrush-”

“Oh, my switch!” You added. Sukuna glared at you from the corners of his eyes. “What?” You asked, “Someone’s gotta take care of my animal crossing island!” Sukuna closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Her switch, I fucking guess, and bring it back here.” He said, “Don’t fuck it up.” He wasn’t sure how they would fuck it up to be fair, but they had surprised him before.

“Got it Boss!” Satoru said, saluting Sukuna before grabbing Suguru and heading for the door.

“Oh, and Gojo?” Sukuna called right before they reached the door. Gojo froze.

“Yea Boss?”

“We’re not done here. See me when you get back.” His voice was dark. Nothing he said was threatening, but if that was true then why were the hairs on the back of your neck standing up? And why did Gojo physically cringe, as if future him was giving him a taste of pain yet to come?

“Understood Boss.” He said, leaving with Suguru. And with that, you were alone with a mob boss. Sukuna turned to you, blatantly eyeing you up. You suddenly felt shy under his gaze.

“Come on, your room is upstairs.” He said, moving past you to an opulent staircase on the opposite wall of the living room. You followed him, not really sure what else to do.

“You know, you’re surprisingly calm about all of this.” Sukuna said as the two of you climbed the stairs, “Not gonna lie, I kinda expected you to like…argue with me about all of this.”

“Do you want me to argue with you?” You asked.

“No, not really. I’m just curious about why you’re not.” He explained.

“Rent’s expensive,” You shrugged, “I was like, a week away from eviction.” You admitted, looking down to try and hide your shame. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong either. You had done everything right, followed all the money tips you could, given up iced coffee. Turns out, rent is substantially more expensive than iced coffee and when your job doesn't pay a living wage, well- living is hard. “Honestly, I kinda need a place to crash.”

“Oh, I see. Well, lucky you then.” He chuckled softly as you reached the top of the staircase. You didn’t know if you’d call yourself lucky, but, you’d take what you could get. “Here, this one’s yours.” Sukuna said, opening a door to the right. You walked into an extravagant red room, a giant bed covered in black silk with a tall canopy sat as the center piece with a black wardrobe off to the side.

“Is this like, your sex room?” You asked, your mouth moving faster than your brain. He gave a short snappy ‘HA!’ at your joke, shaking his head softly.

“Yeah, you wish.” He accused, and yeah he was right. You kinda did wish. “This is just the guest room.”

“So…Do I live with you now?” You asked as you moved to sit on the bed. A reasonable question. Sukuna leaned against the doorway, moving his head back and fourth in the universal motion of ‘I have no fucking idea, give me a sec while I think of what to say.’

“Eh, “live” is a strong word.” He finally said with a shrug. “You’re just here until we can come up with a better solution.” He explained. You nodded, accepting that you weren’t going to get a straight answer- because he didn’t have one to give.

“Well that’s exciting.” You mumbled, trying to rub the tired out of your eyes. It had been a long day.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll figure out what to do with you in a few days.” He tried to comfort you, before finally leaving you alone.

🚬🚬🚬

A few days had quickly turned into a few weeks. You had acclimated to your new life well, learning when to ask questions and when not to. Brutus had become your best friend, and Sukuna your odd roommate who left at weird times in the night. You were more comfortable with your situation than you were willing to admit. Turns out, you weren’t above all those other Y N girlies that immediately got stockholm syndrome after a day of kidnapping.

Still, that didn’t mean you felt particularly safe. The moment you started to, something happened. The very next time you saw Gojo after he left to grab your things, his arm was in a cast. You would hear screaming- or worse begging- from the basement. An already hushed conversation would fall completely silent as you came down the stairs. There was always something to remind you that you were not here of your own free will.

“Ummm…Shota?” You asked from your spot on the couch, watching him put on his jacket.

“Nope.”

“Hmmm…Akira?” Your relationship with Sukuna was an odd one. The two of you had grown comfortable with each others presence, enough that you would find yourself casually hanging out with him, or in this case, pestering him as you tried to guess his first name.

“Wrong again.” He said, checking the jacket to make sure his cigarettes were in one of the pockets. They weren’t.

“Yuji?”

“Gross no- Do I look like a Yuji to you?” That one seemed to genuinely offend him a bit. You had to be getting close.

“Yagi?”

“Y/n, why does it matter to you so much that you know my first name?” He asked, grabbing his smokes from the end table next to the couch. He made eye contact with you when he did it, and you felt your stomach flutter. That was another thing that was quickly developing. It seemed like every day it took less and less from him to make you flustered.

“Cause you know mine!” You said, pressing your thighs together to push back your less than holy thoughts. “It only seems fair that I should know yours too.”

“I’m not interested in what’s fair Doll, you should know that.” He said, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. You hated when he called you Doll, mostly because of how much you loved it when he called you Doll. It always stirred something in you that you tried to suppress, something you knew would make an already not ideal situation worse. Admitting you had feelings for Sukuna felt akin to a death sentence right now, especially considering the very real likelihood that they were one sided.

“If you weren’t interested in what’s fair, you would have killed me by now!” You pointed out.

“Don’t forget to feed Brutus, I’ll be home late.” He completely ignored your very valid point. You huffed as you watched him walk out of the door. Bastard. Asshole. Tyrant, even! In the space between where your true feelings were-and what you were willing to admit to feeling- resentment grew. He had ripped you from the life you had built before, and cultivated this caricature of intimacy that he fully expected you to participate in; all while refusing to give you information as basic as his first name. It wasn’t just unfair, at times it felt cruel.

A soft whine from the nearby kitchen brought you back to reality. You smiled softly at the gentle giant waiting for dinner. “You hungry buddy?” You asked, laughing at his happy woof as you got up to fill his bowl.

You went about your nightly routine as you normally did, minus dinner with Sukuna, ending the night curled up on the couch in your pajamas with Brutus, reading one of the many books that littered the mansion. You couldn’t focus on the words though, your mind finding the ticking of the clock much more interesting. Something was off. You looked up to see that it was already 5 AM. Sukuna was prone to coming home late, but never this late. Something was wrong.

You weren’t sure what to do here. You were captive here, it’s not like you had access to a phone. Even if you did, who would you call? You knew Nanami was his most reliable comrade, but if Sukuna was in trouble there was a 70% chance Nanami was too. Suguru? Maybe, but- you shook your head as you realized none of this mattered when you had zero way of contacting any of these men. You could try and go look for him yourself, but you knew the door was locked. It needed a code to be opened, a code you didn’t have. Brutus whined from beside you, feeding off your nervous energy. Your fingers felt numb as you mindlessly chewed your nails, failing to think of anything other than where Sukuna was at that moment.

“Where are you Suka-” It was like you summoned him, before you could even finish your sentence the door exploded open and he came tumbling inside. You thought having him come home would be a relief, but the blood covering his side washed away any possible relief that could have come from his return.

“Motherfucker-” Was all he could get out before collapsing against the wall next to the door.

“Sukuna!” You yelled, rushing to his side, “Sukuna, holy shit, what happened?!” You demanded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders while you tried to lead him to the couch. You thought it would have been harder, moving a wall of muscle that much bigger than you any amount. But it turns out, adrenaline really is one hell of a drug!

“I got shot, what’s it look like happened?!” He snapped, hissing through his teeth as you placed him on the couch. Suddenly, you understood why everything in this house was red. He almost disappeared into the scarlet couch, the red consuming him, threatening to take him away. “Brutus! First Aid!” He yelled, before groaning in pain. Somewhere along the way, he lost his jacket, making it a lot easier for you to rip off his bloodied dress shirt.

Oh man, that was bad. You weren’t even queasy around blood, but there was a lot here. Before you could get too much in your head and lose your dinner, you felt a fuzzy head nudge into your leg. You looked down to see Brutus looking up at you, first aid kit hanging from his mouth. He was officially the smartest dumb dog you had ever met.

“Oh, Good boy Brutus!” You praised, scratching the sides of his face and his floppy ears.

“Y/n, losing blood kinda fast over here!” Sukuna reminded, quickly snapping you back into the severity of the moment.

“Right, sorry!” You yelped, opening the kit. Of course Sukuna wouldn’t have a normal first aid kit. This was one of the most extensive kits you’d seen. You pulled the latex gloves over your hands before straddling his lap, trying to get a better look at him. Three bullet wounds, one logged into his shoulder, one to his side under his rib cage, and one that just grazed his side. You could still see the bullet in the first two.

“Oh jesus..” You muttered, grabbing the long glorified tweezers from the kit, “So, uh, this is gonna hurt.” You said, mouth moving without your mind.

“Oh, that so?!” He snapped, “I thought it was gonna feel like fucking butterfly kisses!” Oh man, he was starting to look pale.

“Okay, well now I’m not sorry for this.” You muttered, digging the tweezers into his shoulder to get the bullet. He hissed sharply through his teeth, hands finding your hips and grabbing you hard enough to bruise. This was not the scenario you thought of when you imagined Sukuna bruising your hips, but life is often funny that way.

“Okay, that’s one out.” You said as you extracted the metal. He let out a shallow breath, trying hard to regulate his breathing.

“Fuck Y/n..” He whined, and you felt your chest burn. You wondered if that’s what he would sound like on to-NOPE not the time to think like that!

“I’m going to get the second one now, okay?” You asked. He nodded, his body tensing against his will in anticipation. This one was deeper. You watched his abs flex as he moaned in pain, biting his lip to concentrate on anything other than the searing pain in his abdomen. This would be a lot easier if he could stop being hot for like, five seconds. “I’m sorry.” You muttered softly, wishing there was anything you could do to help with the pain.

“Don’t- Don’t.” You could tell he wanted to say more, but he just couldn’t. You finally pulled the final bullet out. You pulled the bottle of iodine out of the kit, assuming it was for disinfecting- something he was going to desperately need. You wanted to suggest a hospital, but you knew better. A hospital meant cops, and he couldn’t have that. Especially not right now. So you poured a generous amount of the iodine on his wounds, only for him to scream.

“AAH, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” He yelped as a new wave of pain scorched it’s way through his body.

“I THOUGHT IT WAS A DISINFECTANT!” You yelled in panic, using a piece of gauze to try and wipe it up.

“YEAH, FOR BURNS.”

“THEN WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO USE?!”

“WATER!!” Oh yeah, that checked. The bottle of distilled water in the kit made a lot more sense now. You opened it, using that to clean his wounds instead, and using it to try and wash away some of the dried blood in the process.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I’m not a nurse, okay!?” You tried to defend yourself in a panic. Then it dawned on you the next step in the process. “I wasn’t very good at home ec either...” You confessed.

“What does that have to do with- Oh god.” He threw his head back on the couch as he realized stitches were next. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before pulling his head back up, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly. It was like he was searching your very soul for something, though you had no idea what he was trying to find. You wanted to shrink away, but you found yourself trapped by his gaze.

“I trust you Y/n. Don’t fuck me up.” He finally said. You wondered how he could be so confident in anything while bleeding out on a couch, but you guessed that was a question for some other time. You nodded, grabbing the surgical needle and thread. It couldn’t be that hard, right? In one side and out the other. You had this.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as you made the first sitch, digging his nails into your hips and subconsciously pulling you closer. He flinched at the second stitch, bucking his hips into yours in the process.

“Hold still!” You chastised him. You really wished all of this was happening under different circumstances. You realized this was probably the closest you had ever been to him. Focus Y/n, focus! You finished his shoulder, before moving on to the one in his side, and finishing with the gash. You were shocked how good your stitches were when you weren’t over thinking it. Not perfect by any means, but far better than you thought.

“Okay, the worst is over.” You said, pushing his damp hair out of his face gently. He looked at you through his eyelashes, an expression you had no hope of reading on his face. You cleared your throat before grabbing the gauze to bandage him up. He was quiet while you worked. You had almost finished with the bandages when he spoke again.

“Ryomen.” He finally said.

“What?” You asked, confusion leaking into your voice as you finished wrapping up the last wound. You looked at him.

“My name’s Ryomen.” You weren’t sure what you expected him to say after all of this, but it definitely wasn’t that. You stared at him, trying to figure out how to process any of what the fuck just happened. Was this your life now? Was this your forever? He brought a shaky hand to the side of your face, brushing away a tear you didn’t even know was there.

“Why are you cryin’ Doll?” He asked softly. His eyes didn’t have the edge you were so used to in them. Be it from the blood loss or him being grateful for your subpar nursing, all of his edges had been rounded down to soft bumps.

“I thought I was going to lose you..” You whimpered softly.

“Oh, Y/n,” He cooed softly, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “Don’t cry over me.” He lazily rubbed your cheek with his thumb, trying to comfort you despite the fact he was the one that had just got shot, multiple times. You were sure the blood loss was getting to his head, this was far too intimate. Far too sweet. The stress of the situation hit you all at once, the adrenaline leaving your body as distress took it’s place.

You took a jagged breath in, realizing you were crying as you did so. He quietly pulled you into a hug, pressing you into his chest. The steady beat of his heart admittedly brought you some comfort, reminding you that he was alive and well-ish. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. When you woke up in your room the next morning, you were convinced it was all a bad dream. Surely he wouldn’t have been able to lug your sleeping body to your room after all of that, right?

The faint blood stains on the couch told a different story.

🚬🚬🚬

If you thought your relationship with Ryomen was weird before, it was really weird now. Before, you were positive you had a one sided crush. Something brought on by proximity and not much else, and a feeling he most definitely did not share. Now though? Now you were sure there was something else there, and that he felt it too. It showed itself in small ways. In the way he brushed against you when you were cooking together, in the way Suguru’s job had gotten significantly harder when Ryomen had noticed how close the two of you had gotten, and in the way he had gotten more protective of you than he had ever been before.

“Oh Suge Knight totally had 2pac killed.” Suguru said with a shrug.

“No way, that doesn’t make sense!” You argued, “Why would he call a hit on his best selling artist?”

“To take control of his catalog, duh,” He said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “More money to be made if you don’t have an artist to pay.”

“Yeah, except now there’s no artist to make more music and therefore more money!” you pointed out, “Besides, why would he have a car he’s in get shot up?”

“So people ask that exact question!” Suguru argued, waving his hands for emphasis.

“Do you two have nothing better to talk about than decades old conspiracy theories?” Ryomen asked as he entered the kitchen, walking up to the bar where you sat with Suguru. He always seemed annoyed when the two of you hung out together. The toxic part of your brain liked it. Satoru wasn’t far behind him, his wrist still in a brace from a months old injury. You felt a little bad when you saw it these days. It must have been a nasty shatter.

“I’d argue there’s no better topic of conversation than decades old murder conspiracies.” Satoru said, taking a seat next to Suguru.

“I’d argue you’re the last person I’d consider an authority on topics of conversation.” Nanami said, suddenly alerting you to his presence. That man was like a ghost, you only saw him when he wanted you to. He moved over to the fridge, pulling out a beer and using the counter to open it. A move that would get Satoru or Suguru a one way ticket to the afterlife, completely ignored by Ryomen because Nanami was useful.

“Y/n, I need you to go to your room.” Ryomen said, checking his watch. “Sooner rather than later.”

“What, why?” You asked, not a fan of being kicked out of the kitchen you now considered to be yours.

“Because I told you to. Don’t come out until I come get you.” His tone left no room for argument or conversation. You bit your tongue, knowing better than to undermine him in front of his men, especially his lieutenants.

“Whatever.” You groaned as you left, going and locking yourself in your room. As much as it annoyed you, this was fairly common at this point. Whenever the boys had “Official Business” you’d be banished to your bedroom until they deemed it safe for you to be let free. A very clear reminder that you were an outsider here. You weren’t in your room long before there was a knock on your door.

“Already?!” You asked.

“No.” Nanami said, “I’m here to deliver Brutus.” Confused, you went and opened the door. Sure enough, Brutus came barreling into the room as the door opened, going and jumping onto your bed. “Boss wants him to be with you.” Nanami said, as if that was going to answer your puzzled look.

“Why? What’s going on?” You asked in a hushed tone. Nanami's eyes darted over to the staircase, making sure no one was coming up them.

“A representative of Naoya Zenin is going to be here tonight.” Zenin. You heard that name enough before to know he was one of Ryomen’s rivals, someone previously teamed up with Toji.

“What? Why is he sending someone here?”

“Fushiguru has been shorting him and his team when it comes to their cut of narcotics sales. Considering they’re the ones making all the drugs Toji sells, he’s not happy about it. So he’s looking to start a partnership with us instead.” You were thankful for Nanami. Everyone else here treated you like a delicate flower: like telling you what was going on would make you wilt. Nanami had always kept it straight with you, telling you the facts as they were. To him, you were just as involved as they all were, even if that was only due to your proximity to it all.

“And he’s not showing up himself?” You asked, remembering that Nanami had said a representative of his was coming. He shrugged.

“What can I say? The man’s a coward.” There was a knock on the door after he said that, signaling to him that he needed to get back downstairs. “Stay safe Y/n.” He said, turning to join the others.

“You too.” You responded, but you were pretty sure he didn’t hear it. You sighed as you closed your door, joining the overgrown puppy on your bed. You decided to hop on your switch, needing some way to kill the time. You weren’t sure how long you spent trying to get Moose off your island before you registered that Brutus was whining by your door.

“What’s wrong big guy?” You asked, putting your switch down. He whined some more, shifting uncomfortably in front of the door. “Oh no, you have to potty, don’t you?” You could have sworn that dog nodded at you. Really?! They didn’t let him out first?! You wondered what to do. You knew disobeying Ryomen wasn’t acceptable, but you couldn’t just let your baby suffer! Another whimper from Brutus made the decision for you. Ryomen would understand.

You opened your door and walked Brutus down the stairs, hoping you could avoid wherever the meeting was happening. You should have known that was delusional, because the moment you walked into the kitchen, you found them all holding their meeting around the bar. Ryomen pinched the bridge of his nose the moment he saw you. Ah fuck.

“Well hello there Gorgeous, who are you?” A man you had never seen before asked. He made your stomach turn. He had his long blue hair parted into three pony tails, and long surgical scars marred his face. That wasn’t what made him so revolting though. It was his smile. It didn’t feel right. Like a monster recreating it’s prey’s mannerisms, a wolf in poorly fitted sheep’s clothing. You wished you stayed in your room.

“It doesn’t matter who she is, you’re not here to talk to her.” Ryomen said, allowing no room for conversation. You followed his lead, going and opening the back door for Brutus without acknowledging the mimic in your home.

“Oh, don’t be rude Sukuna. Is she your wife?” It asked.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not here to talk about my personal life.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He turned to you, and you wished Brutus would hurry up. “I’m Mahito sweetie. And you are?”

“I think the Boss made it clear, we should get back on topic.” Nanami said, adjusting to put his hand in his suit jacket. The Mahito creature got the hint, raising his hands in his defense.

“Okay, okay, okay. Pardon me for trying to be polite at a business meeting, I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” Ryomen said, lighting a smoke and watching closely as Brutus ran in and took his place by your side. He saw the way Brutus held back a growl. That wasn’t a good sign. “You said Zenin wanted fifty percent? That’s not going to work for us.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Selling is signif-” That was all you heard as you rushed back up stairs. Once in your room, you tried to regulate your heartbeat, to clam your jittering bones. You felt like you had just encountered some old primal evil. Something so off your ancestors were warning you to be weary of it from beyond the grave. You sat next to Brutus on your bed, hiding your face in his fur to try and calm down.

It worked for a while, until you heard him growl. You looked up to see the monster in your room. You yelped softly, instinctively backing away. You wished you hadn’t forgotten to close your door.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, showing that “smile” again. “I just thought it was a shame we didn’t get to properly meet back there.” Your blood felt slimy in your veins as you realized you were going to have to play nice with this guy. His business was important to Ryomen, or else he wouldn’t be in the house.

“Oh, yea I guess.” You muttered softly, petting Brutus to try and calm him.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” He asked, stepping even further into your room and closing the door behind him. Your joints suddenly felt weak with static, every fiber of your animal brain telling you you were dealing with a predator.

“Y/n.” You responded, refusing to make eye contact with his mis-matched eyes.

“That’s a pretty name Y/n. You Ryomen’s girl, or his pet?” You didn’t like anything coming out of his mouth.

“I’m um, his roommate.” You guess, and instantly realized you guessed wrong. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs with the others?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine without me for a few minutes.” He said, and you realized he was getting closer. You stood up, only to realize he was in between you and the door.

“Hey, uh, I really think you should go back down, they’re probably looking for-”

“I don’t care.” He scoffed, closing the distance and grabbing you. He tried to force you on the bed, but I guess that dumb ass missed the giant fuck you dog that was in that room for the sole purpose of protecting you. He didn’t get past putting his hands on your shoulders before Brutus’s teeth were in his leg, ripping muscle from bone. The scream that left Mahito was visceral, the kind that haunts people at night.

“RYOMEN!!” You yelled, pressing yourself against the wall while Brutus did his thing, jerking his head, pulling the man away from you as another horrific scream left him.

“I fucking knew it!” Ryomen snapped, ripping your attention away from the bloody scene in front of you and to the four men spilling into your room, Ryomen leading the pack.

“CALL OFF YOUR DOG!” The rag doll begged.

“Brutus, down!” Ryomen ordered. Without hesitation the Rott had let go, and had placed himself between you and your attacker in case he needed to act again.

“Oh thank-” Mahito didn’t get to finish that sentence.

“He’s mine.” Ryomen growled, grabbing him by his scalp. “You think you can come into my house and attack my girl and get away with it?!” He snapped, taking the lit cigarette from his mouth and putting it out in Mahitos’ right eye. You’re not sure what was going to stick with you more, the smell- or the sound that came out of the monster. Ryomen threw the screaming, bloodied man, to the floor behind him. “Take him to the basement, I’ll be there soon.” He said. Without hesitation all three men acted, grabbing the begging Mahito and dragging him down the stairs.

Ryomen walked over to you, gently taking your head in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, Brutus protected me.” You hated the quiver in your voice as you said that. Ryomen looked down at the dopey dog, smiling with blood on his muzzle. He gave a small affectionate smile as he pet the dog.

“Good boy.” He praised before turning back to you. “I’m going to go take care of the trash in the basement, then I’ll be back, okay?”

“I’m so sor-”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. He did. I’ll be back.” He assured you, gently patting your cheek before leaving the room you weren’t sure you felt safe in anymore. You weren’t sure how long he was gone for. At least long enough for you to clean up Brutus, and to try and clean up all the gore. At least your carpet was dark gray. You wondered how many other stains it hid, and of what variety.

You weren’t expecting how relieved you were when you finally heard a knock, opening the door to reveal a freshly showered Ryomen. You wondered what he looked like before washing the blood away, but the only image your mind conjured was him bleeding out on the couch. So you stopped wondering.

“Pack a bag, you’re leaving.” He explained. His tone was unreadable, and all it did was piss you off.

“What? What do you mean I’m leaving?!” You demanded.

“I mean wh-”

“No Ryomen, I want an actual fucking explanation.” You saw his jaw clench, as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You gotta get better about that interrupting bullshit.” He growled. “Zenin is definitely going to send someone to look for his missing boy. And when he does, he’s not going to find you here. Gojo already reserved you a hotel suite for a week, it’s temporary.” He explained as he walked away. “I’ll be waiting for you in the living room.”

You groaned as you threw together a bag. You understood his reasoning, but you were getting real sick of feeling like nothing in your life was under your control. Like you were at the mercy of a crazed mob boss. Probably because you were. You were starting to wonder if all of this was really worth not having to pay rent.

Ultimately you decided it was. Really, it was no different from existing under capitalism, and at least in this situation you could sometimes reason with your captor. You came downstairs with your bag, took at least ten minuets to say goodbye to Brutus- promising him you’d be back and that he was the best boy- and finally loaded yourself into Ryomen’s too-expensive-for-you-to-be-in car. The drive was silent, tense almost. He chain smoked out of the window, not even bothering to look at you.

“Um, are you mad at me?” You finally had to ask.

“No.” Well that didn’t sound like he wasn’t mad at you.

“You sound mad.” You pointed out.

“Good observation.” He scoffed, throwing his dead cigarette butt out the window, and immediately going to light another.

“That’s probably not good for your lungs ya know.” His glare could have frozen the sun. “I’m just sayin’!”

“I promise you, I’d be lucky if lung cancer is what kills me.” He “assured” you.

“You promise you’re not mad at me?”

“Y/n.” He growled, “I said I’m not mad at you, didn’t I? Why can’t you just believe me?”

“Cause you sound like, really really ma-”

“That’s because I’m mad at myself, not you!” He snapped, before catching himself with a growl, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. He took a long drag off his smoke and ashed it out the window, holding the smoke in his lungs until the burn threatened to consume him. “Just. Drop it.” He finally said as the two of you pulled into a hotel parking lot. It was honestly nicer than you were expecting! “We’re here.” He informed you, grabbing your bag as the two of you left the car.

It was clear Sukuna was known here, considering he didn’t technically check in. He was just given a key as he passed the front desk, and told a room number. You hoped it wasn’t that easy for everyone. He ushered you to the elevator before giving you the spare key he was given. “Room 237.” He said.

“Wait, like The Shining?!” you gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I-I guess?” He very clearly wasn’t expecting that reaction to informing you of your room number. “Sorry, I’m thrown, are you excited or?-”

“I just think it’s neat.” You beamed.

“...Okay.” Sukuna sighed, deciding he had more important things to worry about at the moment than if you liked your room number or not. Once inside the room, he immediately started checking for bugs, both the organic and inorganic kind. An old habit that he saw no need to kill. While he did that, you looked around the suite, familiarizing yourself with the layout.

“Hey, Ryomen? I only see one bed?” You questioned, not finding another place for him to sleep.

“Yeah? Is that a problem?” He asked, joining you in the bedroom.

“Well where are you going to sleep?” You inquired. He was confused again.

“In my bed? At my house?” Oh hell no he wasn’t!

“What?! No way, you can’t leave me!” You protested, getting real sick of his shit.

“I assure you, I can do whatever I want,” He scoffed, “Someone needs to watch the house.”

“Fuck that, have Nanami do it! What if they find me here?!” You didn’t have Brutus, and you weren’t confident in your ability to hold your own in a fight with experienced criminals.

“No one is going to come for you here Y/n-” He tried to reason, but you were having none of it.

“Are you sure?!” You demanded, “Can you promise me that?! Can you look me in the eye and swear to me that we weren’t followed? That no one’s going to show up here looking for you and hurt me instead? That no one wants revenge for that ragdolls life?! Can you be sure?!” He was quiet. Truth be told, he couldn’t. And he had already fucked up and let you get hurt once, he wasn’t going to do it again. He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll call Nanami and have him-”

“I don’t want Nanami here, I want you.” You insisted. Your words hung heavy in the air, both of you trying to hear what was left unsaid in the silence. The tension was growing, begging for someone to say something, anything. Finally, Ryomen sighed again,

“Okay, I’ll stay. Let me go call Nanami so he knows to watch the house.” He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and stepping out to call his lieutenant. He was gone for longer than you expected. You worried about what was being said, though you didn't know why you were so worried. You just felt anxious. Finally, he came back.

“Alright, everything is settled.” He let you know, “I’m going to sleep on the couch, just…get some sleep okay?” He said, gently cupping your cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He assured you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded.

“Okay, thank you.” You sighed, looking up at him. He was closer than you realized. He hadn’t let go of your cheek yet either. Your eyes connected, and for a split second, the whole world seemed to stop. He was close enough you could smell the coffee and cigarette scent that seemed to permanently cling to him. If you focused hard enough, you could feel the heat coming off of him. “Kiss me.” You mentally begged him, “Kiss me, just kiss me!”

“Sleep well Y/n.” He said, patting your face as he left the room. You almost screamed at him to get back here and finish what he started, but realized it probably wouldn’t do much. If he wanted to, he would have. He said it himself, he does whatever he wants. You settled for just screaming into the pillow as you flopped into the overly stuffed mattress instead. This shit sucked.

Everything felt hot, too hot. You felt like you were caught in an inferno, feeling his hips buck into yours. You felt his warm mouth trail kisses down your neck. You twisted your hands, feeling your wrists flex under his large hand. “You’re so good for me pretty girl.” He praised in your ear.

“Ryomen-” You gasped, saying his name like a prayer.

“Say it again Y/n.”

“Ryomen..”

“Again..”

“Ro-”

“Y/n!” You jumped out of your sleep, yelping softly as Sukuna’s voice jolted you out of the dream realm. You looked around, trying to reorient yourself. You still felt flustered from your dream, and now flustered from embarrassment.

“Ryomen?” You asked, looking at the man sitting on the side of your bed, him looking at you with concerned eyes in return. “What are you doing in here?”

“You called for me.” He informed you, and you wanted to melt away from the embarrassment. “I thought you we’re having a nightmare, so I woke you up,” He explained, “Are you okay?”

“A nightmare…yeah…” You took the excuse and ran, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I don’t even remember what happened in it honestly…” You lied. He sighed and rubbed his face, getting up to leave. “Wait!” You called, grabbing his hand before he could get too far. There goes your stupid body, moving faster than your brain again. “I-...I don’t want to be alone.” You explained. It was technically the truth.

He looked down at you, quiet for a second, then grumbled. “Whatever. Scoot over.” He muttered. You smiled, happy to make room for him. He slipped himself under the covers, getting comfortable surprisingly quickly for someone in a dress shirt and slacks. For a guy that was surrounded with luxury and creature comforts, he really didn’t seem to need any of them. It didn’t seem like he was very accustomed to them either. He laid on his back, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable his chest looked.

So you moved next to him, resting your head on his chest. He looked down at you, but didn’t push you away. Quite the opposite actually, he wrapped one of his arms around you, holding you close to his side. It woke up the butterflies in your stomach, sending them into overdrive.

“Thank you.” You whispered to him.

“For what?” He asked.

“Staying with me. Taking care of me.”

“...Di-..did you just thank me for kidnapping you?” He questioned, looking down at you as best he could and raising an eyebrow. You laughed a little at his reaction.

“I guess I did, yeah.” You giggled, trying to push yourself closer to him.

“You’re welcome?” You never failed to confuse and confound him. Maybe that’s why he liked you so much. You kept him on his toes. “You know most people aren’t okay with being kidnapped, right? It’s considered a bad thing.”

“I’m not most people.” You shrugged. “Like, yeah I see how on paper it’s bad but..I don’t know. It kinda came at the perfect time for me. I got to walk out of my shitty job, I didn’t have to deal with getting evicted, let’s not even get started on how honestly lonely I was..I don’t know. I guess it’s bad for most people, but it was a miracle for me. Is there a word for bad miracle?”

“Your stalkhom syndrome is showing.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” You chuckled, shifting to be able to look up at him, “Have you ever considered I just like being around you?”

“Why would you?” He muttered.

“Why wouldn't I?” You replied. There it was again. That warm feeling that seemed to envelop you wherever you were in Ryomen’s arms, coupled with the feeling that comes right before the lighting strikes. You used the dim moonlight fluttering in from your window to connect your eyes with his. You swore up and down his eyes glowed in low light, the unnatural red that should be so off putting only drawing you deeper into him.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered softly, and you felt your chest tighten. He had never said anything like that to you before. It made you feel almost giddy, your heart doing the screaming and squealing your throat wouldn’t currently allow. Before you could respond, his lips were finally on yours and it felt like fireworks were going off in every fiber of your being. You felt your blood rushing in your veins as you moved to tangle your fingers in his hair, months of tension finally snapping in a million electric sparks.

He bit your lip, using your soft gasp to deepen the kiss. He pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible, growling softly as you tugged at his hair. It was like the two of you truly couldn’t get enough of each other, trying to make up for months worth of lost time and build up with one impossibly impassioned kiss. He rolled the two of you over so you were under him, and moved to kiss your neck. You moaned softly as he did, feeling the bruises he was biting already starting to form. You loved the idea of it, of obvious evidence you really were his girl.

You felt your breathing get heavy as he ran his hands up your waist and under your shirt, feeling the soft skin waiting for him there. He pulled away long enough to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your sleep shorts.

“Fuck.” He whispered when he finally saw you without your top on. He took the time to truly marvel you, the way you imagined a painter would look at his magnum opus. It filled you with a confidence unlike anything else, for someone so beautiful to look at you the way Adonis had looked at Aphrodite.

“You look so much better than I imagined.” he praised, finally finding his voice again.

“So you’ve imagined me topless?” You teased.

“I’ve imagined more than just you topless.” He smirked, hands roaming lower on your body. You felt your breath hitch in your chest as he hooked his thumbs under your shorts. You weren’t positive this wasn’t another dream, but either way, you planned to enjoy this. Though, he was wearing far too much clothes for that. Before he could take your bottoms off, you were sitting up, connecting your lips to his again as your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. You always thought he looked stunning in them, but right now you despised the small buttons. He chuckled a bit, pulling away from you.

“Eager, huh?” he teased, “Here, I got it.” You felt almost embarrassed as he expertly got all the buttons undone and the shirt off in the time it took you to unhook three of them. But- in your defense- he took those shirts off everyday and this was your first time taking anything off him. You bit your lip as you took in his topless form. It looked so much better not covered in blood, you could better see the tattooed skin that laid there.

And the scars. There were a few etched into his skin, but you were most concerned with three. Your fingers went to touch one of the circular scars, feeling the puckered healed skin on his shoulder. You felt a pang of regret. If you had done better that night, would he have scarred? You didn’t have time to think before you felt his hand on yours, softly pressing your fingers into the healed wound.

“Like it?” He chuckled, “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Why?” You asked, trying not to think about him covered in blood again.

“It makes me think of you.” He said, pulling you into another heated kiss. You felt your body react to him, pressing yourself closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt dizzy with want, your entire being buzzing with anticipation as he pressed you back into the mattress, kissing down your jaw, your neck, your torso, until he was where you wanted him the most. You bit your lip in anticipation, feeling him hook his thumbs into your bottoms, waiting for him.

“What do you want Doll?” He asked from in between your legs.

“You.” You whimpered softly.

“I’m right here,” He reminded you, “What do you want from me?” You whined as you bucked your hips at him. He grabbed them and pressed you into the mattress, making you groan louder.

“I don’t know!” You confessed.

“Babygirl, we haven’t even done anything, you can’t be fucked stupid just yet.” he tsked.

“I just want you to touch me...” You begged.

“I am touching you.”

“Ryo!” You whined, wriggling under him.

“Ryo?” He snorted, “That’s cute.” In all the times you had imagined yourself fucking Ryomen Sukuna, you had never imagined he’d be this fucking infuriating. You gave a stranged whine to let him know just how upset you were. “Sorry Doll, I don’t speak whine. You’re gonna have to use your big girl words.”

“Ryomen, please!” You begged, “I- I want..fuck, I want your mouth.” You finally decided, “I want to know what your mouth feels like.” Ryomen’s grin was dark as he finally pulled down your shorts and underwear in one fluid motion.

“Good girl.” he praised, and before you could properly react, he was running his tongue from your entrance to your clit, wrapping his lips around your bundle of nerves and giving it a sharp suck. Excitement exploded in your chest as your hands rushed to his hair, trying to find anything to ground yourself. He growled as you pulled him closer to you.

Every pass of his tongue sent another wave of euphoria coursing through your core, leaving you soft under him. You brain officially checked out for the night, rolling your hips against his face to chase your high. You moaned his name shamelessly, losing your ability to regulate your volume in the pleasure he was giving you. This volume regulation problem worsened as he pushed two fingers into your weeping cunt, curling up and successfully gracing the sweet spot inside you. Some part of your brain was sure the next room over knew Ryomen’s name now.

And it was driving him crazy. Ryomen couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The way your eyes screwed shut, the way the sweat cascaded down your body, the way his name sounded so fucking pretty falling off your lips. He spent a lot of time fucking his hand to the thought of fucking you with his mouth, among other things, and his imagination couldn’t come close to creating the magic of the real thing. He had to use his free hand to palm himself through his slacks, desperate for any sort of relief. The only thing he wanted more than to fuck you in that moment was to taste you as you came on his face. He needed it more than he needed to breathe.

“R-ryo, I- close..” You whined, your mind struggling to conjugate a proper sentence. That’s what he liked to hear. Your head was full of dopamine and ecstasy, your entire body buzzed with anticipation and need. You felt like you were barreling to the edge of the earth with no hope of stopping. You heard him moan as you pulled his hair again, pulling him closer as you rode his face straight to your climax, feeling the ecstasy explode in your veins. You felt like you were floating in a sea of pleasure, except the sea was in the middle of a tropical storm and every cutting wave that hit you left you weaker than the last. Your vision went white hot, and you were struggling to keep your breath.

“Fuck, fuck, Ryo! Ryomen! So good Ryo..” You chanted his name like a witch trying to evoke a long dead deity. And he couldn’t get enough of it, eating you out throughout your high as he licked up everything you had to give him and more. He didn’t let up until your legs were trembling around his head. He kissed bruises in your shaking thighs as he pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking at you with dark eyes. Something primal held behind pupils blown wide with lust. He wiped his mouth with a wicked grin.

“You taste so good Doll,” He praised, slipping his fingers out of your cunt and into your mouth. You started sucking without thinking, grabbing his hand to keep him there as you licked his fingers clean. “Glad you agree.” He chuckled darkly, feeling his dick twitch under his clothes. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and the only thing his mind could focus on was imagining how pretty you’d look trying to take his dick.

“How ya feeling Dollface?” He asked, leaning back as he undid the button on his pants.

“So good..” You muttered, your mind slowly finding it’s way back to your body in the sea of endorphins it was swimming in.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, pulling you under him as he lined himself up with your weeping cunt, “Wanna feel even better?” He asked. Well he was confident, wasn’t he? You nodded, looking up to see what he was working with. You probably should have been more intimidated than you were, but at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel as good as he had made you feel.

“Yea, I want do.” You confirmed, and he smiled smugly.

“Good girl.” He praised as he slowly sunk into you. You felt like you were being ripped apart in the most beautiful way. Your cunt weeping as it made accommodations for him. Your hands flew to his back, digging into him with enough time to feel him shudder on top of you from just how good you felt. You’d count that as a win.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me pretty girl,” He moaned, dragging himself out just to push back in, gracing your g-spot as he did. You moaned under him as he did, feeling yourself melt into a puddle of need and pleasure. “So fucking good.” He purred.

He tried to take it easy, to keep in mind that you had just came hard and were probably sensitive. He couldn’t help himself though. The way you pulled him in deeper and deeper with every thrust threw any semblance of sense out of his mind. All he could think about was how good you felt under him, and how fucking pretty every sound that came out of you was. He wanted to hear them all.

You were happy to make them all for him too, moaning pathetically under him with every push of his cock, every brush against your g-spot. You could feel your blood catch fire in your veins as he fucked you, felt yourself getting lost in the pleasure he was giving you. You felt electrified, your nervous system somehow fried and on high alert all at the same time. All you could think of was Ryomen, Ryomen, Ryomen as you felt a string of tensions knotting itself over and over in your stomach.

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, folding you into a mating press as he chased both of your highs. You instantly knew you weren’t going to last long in this new position, and all but screamed his name as you pulled at his hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ryomen!” You yelled as the string inside of you finally snapped, all of the euphoria it was holding back hitting you like a god damn train. You felt your body shake, tendrils of pleasure lashing out from your core to your fingers and toes. It was like a whole body reset, your brain turning into a puddle of electrified endorphins.

He thought he was going to last longer than he ultimately did. But the way your cunt clenched around him coupled with the way your face screwed shut and how needy you sounded as you said his name- he was coming undone inside within a few more strokes, fucking the two of you through both of your climaxes before stilling, just barely managing not to collapse on top of you.

There was a quiet that settled over the two of you in your after glow as you both caught your breath. You whined as he pulled out, going from feeling so full to so empty and hating it. He just chuckled softly, falling next to you and pulling you into his side.

“So,” You started softly, “Am I still the property of The Syndicate orr?” You asked. He chuckled softly, remembering what he said to you on the night you met.

“No, not the Syndicate. You’re mine.” He confirmed for you.

“Isn’t that like…kinda the same thing?” You asked. He rolled his eyes. Of course you couldn't let him have his cute moment.

“Good night Y/n, we’ll talk in the morning.” He mumbled, deciding the best move would be to try and get some sleep. The two of you were going to have a lot to talk about in the morning.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk mafia au #jujutsu kaisen mafia au #mob boss sukuna #mob boss sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader smut #mafia au

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Text

THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair were dark, but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen and her wrath was not different from the one that burn inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 2

Ysilla had been right. Her dragon had survived for the first weeks of his life, and it kept getting bigger. No one believed it, but he did, and the girl spent the majority of her time with her dragon.

Since it survived, her lady mother had agreed to make the Maester write to King's Landing so that the keeper of the Dragonpits could take a look at the dragon.

Soon, Ysilla found herself on a ship, cradling her dragon in her arms, heading to the Capital.

She had been when she was only two, or at least that was what her mother had told her. She had to go because her uncle wanted to meet her. But Ysilla had little memory of that. At that time, her aunt Aemma was still alive and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But only some months after her visit, she had died, giving birth to her son.

Her aunt came from the Vale as well, and Ysilla would have liked to remember her. But she really couldn't.

"You'll be taken care of," she whispered to her dragon, caressing his head. He seemed to like her touch, which made her giggle. "You are a strong one," she said proudly as his tail circled her wrist and moved his black wings.

Ysilla arrived at King's Landing by ship in five days. When she could see the shape of the city, the girl ran to the front.

King's Landing was huge, and she could already see the Red Keep and the Septon of Baelon. It looked so different from Runestone. Her castle was set on the tall mountains, and it was smaller than the Red Keep.

When her ship arrived at the dooks, her eyes noticed a knight wearing the white cloaks of the Kingsguard. He was a young man, olive-skinned and dark-haired. For some reason, his features made her blush. Her mother didn't let her hear songs much; Royces were strong warriors, and in a hard land like her own, there was no time for stories. But the few that Ysilla had heard talked about beautiful knights, such as the one that was waiting for her at the docks.

"Princess Ysilla," the knight greeted her with a bow of his head, which she reciprocated, holding her dragon in her arms.

"Good day, Ser," she answered politely, feeling a faint blush creep upon her cheeks at the realization she had no clue what the knight's name might be.

"Ser Criston Cole, my princess," he said gently, "I'll be escorting you to the castle. The King is waiting for you." He gestured towards a big carriage. The girl blinked her purple eyes in amazement. She never used those in Runestone; her mother taught her how to ride as soon as Ysilla could. Even her ride to the port had been made on the back of her pony.

Ysilla nodded silently, ready to follow the knight, but she didn't miss the way Ser Criston's eyes lingered upon her dragon.

"He is good," she said, suddenly afraid that they didn't want her dragon to enter the carriage. "He always obeys me, I swear," she assured him.

Since her dragon was born, Ysilla has never separated from him. He has become a dear friend to her, and he was always with her.

"Do not fear, princess," he smiled down at her, "Shall we go?"

Sadly, the carriage had no windows. Ysilla would have liked to watch the busy streets of the city, but she could only hear the people outside. She could not understand any words; they were just buzzing. Riding on horseback to the castle could have been more entertaining.

The dragon in her hands moved, and Ysilla looked down at it. He was still trying to find a way to move as swiftly as possible, trying to put all his strength into his front legs. Sometimes, he hurt her with his claws, accidentally scratching her skin. But Ysilla was patient with him.

"How old is he?" Ser Criston Cole asked her. She knew he had seen her dragon's missing legs, as he had noticed her dark hair streaked with silver.

"Almost two months old," she answered, biting her lower lip, feeling a bit shy. "Ser Criston," she called after some moments of silence, "Is my father here in King's Landing by any chance?"

The knight shook his head, "I'm sorry, princess. Prince Daemon is still fighting on the Stepstones." She flushed with shame. She should have known, but she stupidly had hoped that maybe he would have came in King's Landing after hearing of her arrival. She had just being stupid.

"Oh, thank you." The little claw of her dragon trying to keep himself up made her look down so that their eyes would meet.

You are here, though, she thought, caressing its head.

Once they arrived at the Red Keep, Ysilla felt so small looking up at the stone that built the castle.

"Ysilla Targaryen," her presence was announced as she stepped down the carriage, helped by Ser Criston. On the steps at the entrance of the castle, Ysilla noticed a man with long silver hair wearing black and red vests. On his face, there was a short beard, and he was smiling at her. He was the King Viserys and Ysilla's uncle. Next to him a young lady, with auburn hair tied at the back of her head. Her hands were resting upon her swollen belly. She must have been the young Queen Alicent, her aunt.

"My dear niece," the King said, walking towards her with open arms.

"Your Grace," she knew how to talk to the King; her Maester had thought of her well.

"You've grown so much, my dear," he said, gently smiling at her. At that, Ysilla felt like blushing. She knew how she was supposed to talk to the King, but not so much to her uncle, so she decided only to smile.

"You must be tired," the sweet voice of the Queen got her attention to see her stopping next to her husband, "And hungry."

"You are very kind, my Queen," she spoke shyly, "But I'd like to ask you to make sure my dragon is healthy."

Both the King and the Queen looked at the little beast in her arms. And Ysilla noticed their eyes linger at on the dragon, searching for the hind legs.

"It is-"

"Strong," she spoke, interrupting her uncle, blushing, "But we do not have Dragonpit in Runestone."

"Then we should bring him to the Dragonpit," another voice said from behind the King. She was a pretty girl with long silver hair and a smile, dressed in a soft yellow gown. Ysilla knew who she was: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne.

"You want to think about it, Rhaenyra?" Ysilla's uncle asked. The girl noticed the princess making a strange face when her father spoke as if she didn't want him to share words with her. But when Rhaenyra's eyes went back to Ysilla, she smiled again.

"Of course," she said, gesturing towards the carriage.

"He is so pretty," Rhaenyra told her once the carriage moved again to bring them to the Dragonpit. Then she frowned as she got closer, taking a better look at the hatchling. Ysilla brought him closer to her.

"Thank you, princess," Ysilla answered, waiting for a comment from her cousin. She knew she would; everyone did. Ysilla's mother was not even sure that he would have survived.

"How's he called?" The question surprised her. She was ready to answer any question about her dragon, but not that. Ysilla blushed.

"I still have not named him," she admitted, ashamed.

"And why is that?" Asked Rhaenyra curiously.

"No name fits," the girl answered, caressing the head of her dragon.

Rhaenyra smiled. "It will come," she assured her, "Give it time."

Ysilla looked up, her lips curling up, appreciating her cousin's words. When she did so, she noticed the neckless of smoke-grey steel with a deep red ruby in its center. It was shining brightly, even if there was not so much light inside the carriage.

"You like it?" Rhaenyra asked, touching the necklace with her fingers. Ysilla nodded shyly.

"It's Valyrian steel," her cousin said, and Ysilla's eyes grew large.

"Like Lamentation!" She exclaimed, remembering the Valyrian Steel sword that House Royce possessed.

"And Blackfyre, or Dark Sister," Rhaenyra said, talking about the swords that one Aegon the Conquerer and his sister-wife Vysenia possessed.

"Father wields Dark Sister!" She knew all about those matters. Ysilla loved Valyrian Steel. Rhaenyra chuckled, nodding her head.

"Exactly!" She exclaimed before touching the neckless once again, "This was his gift."

Those words confused Ysilla. Her father had given that necklace to Rhaenyra? Why? Perhaps for her name-day, no doubt. If not, why? But did her father usually give gifts on name-days? Ysilla never received anything from him, nor did she know. Or maybe he did!

He must have if he had given something to Rhaenyra, Ysilla though. Her mother probably never gave her presents because she was still a little girl of five—too young for such jewelry.

It must be it, she thought, looking down at her dragon when he moved in her hands.

The Dragonpit was huge. Set atop one of the hills of King's Landing. The Hills of Rhaenys, Rhaenyra called it. The main door of bronze and iron was so tall that Ysilla felt her neck ache when she tried to look up. The Dragonpit was the home of the royal dragons of House Targaryen. Ysilla looked at her dragon as they walked inside, wondering if he would have liked to stay with the other dragons more. Maybe, that was the right place for him.

The Maesters of the Dragonpit were like nothing Ysilla had ever seen. They spoke a strange language that she had never heard before.

"Do you know High Valyrian?" Rhaenyra asked from next to her. High Valyrian was the language that was spoken by the people of Valyria. But Ysilla did not know it. No one in the household was Targaryen. And her mother wanted to raise her proud and strong like the people of the Vale and Ysilla wanted to be. But a part of her wanted to be Targaryen. She was a Targaryen, and she felt ashamed when she shook her head, admitting that she did not know High Valyrian. Rhaenyra observed her for a moment before starting to talk with the Dragonpit Maester. The man spoke to Ysilla, who only frowned, but then Rhaenyra touched her shoulder with a gentle smile.

"He'd like to see the dragon," Ysilla held it a little more, knowing that she had to let him go. The man was waiting, but she could only focus on the dragon moving in her hands.

"It's going to be alright," she assured, looking at the purple eyes of the hatchling. You are a good dragon," she said before moving her arms so that the man could take him. He squirmed, complaining as Ysilla took a step back.

The man put the dragon on a stone table. The little beast had some difficulty staying still due to the lack of its hind legs. But Ysilla observed him proudly as he found his balance using his wings, his long black and purple neck standing eloquently as he got more confident.

The man started to talk, and Ysilla turned to Rhaenyra, who was waiting for her to translate.

"He is deformed," Rhaenyra said, "The hind legs had not developed. He should have been dead by now," Ysilla's heart beat fast, full of worry, "And yet he is strong." Rhaenyra added, "Strong muscles, strong wings. It is unlikely that he will perish." Ysilla felt tears in her eyes, "He is growing good for his age. He says it is a miracle."

"So he will be fine!" Ysilla exclaimed happily. Rhaenyra nodded her head with a happy smile. Then the man talked again, and Ysilla waited patiently for her cousin to translate.

"He needs to be watched over," she said, "If he survives the furst year of age, he will be fine."

Ysilla was so glad to hear, and after asking the permission to go to her dragon, she happily caressed his head.

"You are going to be fine," she assured him, "And we are always going to be together."

________________________________________

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redacted-rainbows · 4 months

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Hey y'all! So I saw this really ~entertaining~ post by @janitorhutcherson the other day and got inspired to write a little drabble based on it. Sorry if this isn't great, this is quite literally my first time ever writing any form of fanfiction much less smut so feel free to give constructive criticism. Hope you guys enjoy this!

WARNING- 18+, consume this content at your own discretion (smut under the cut)

The original post~ peeta mellark the type of man to stick his hand between your thighs under the table at dinner while having the nerve to force you to make conversation

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The plans had been set for days, but you still let out a deep sigh pulling on your favorite black dress and throwing your hair into a loose updo before flopping onto your bed. You and your long term boyfriend Peeta Mellark were scheduled to meet with Haymitch and Katniss for dinner and you were already going to be late. Peeta walks into your shared bedroom, his blonde hair slicked back and muscular frame emphasized by his white button up and half-done bowtie. "Babe, we've gotta be out the door in five minutes or else Katniss might literally shoot me" the older boy says while sitting down onto the bed next to you. "I know, I know, but you're the one whose made us this late already!" you retort, sitting up to run your hands through his gorgeous hair. You laugh as he makes an annoyed face and moves to fix his appearance, so you remind him "Peeta, you look good no matter how your hair is styled, now lemme get that bowtie so we can leave." He gives you a slight eye roll, but can't help but smile when you tug on the pathetic attempt of a knot your boyfriend tied on his neck. "You know if you wanted to choke me, all you had to do was ask" he teases, making your face go slightly red as you look away. "Oh shut up bread boy, in your dreams" was your only response as you gently fix his bowtie and straighten it on his neck. "Do I look perfectly handsome yet?" he jokes, cocky grin on his face, and you sigh. "Sure you do loverboy, just not as gorgeous as I do" you say with a wink.

You arrive at the resturaunt at 7:18, much to the dismay of Peeta who had promised a prompt 7:15 reservation for the quartet. You grab his hand and drag him into the building, where he sheepishly looks around for his companions. "Peeta! Y/N! We're over here!" you hear a familiar rough alto lilt. "Hey Katniss!" Peeta greets shyly as you two walk over to the corner of the restaurant. You feel your boyfriend lean his head into yours and hear him start to whisper "this place has a no bow and arrow policy, right?" You can't help but giggle aloud at his comment. Even though Katniss was a legend with her weapon of choice, you knew she would never hurt anyone unless necessary, even if they are wandering into dinner late. "Where's Haymitch off to this time?" you wonder aloud, glancing around the resturaunt for sight of the older man. Katniss rises from where she is seated to give you a warm embrace while sighing. "He ran off to the bathroom a few minutes ago, but knowing him he could be halfway to the Capitol at this point". Turning to Peeta, she opts for a gentle flick on the nose and an eye roll, "for almost certainly being the reason you're both late". You all get situated into the booth, you and Peeta next to each other and Katniss across, with room for Haymitch whenever he appears again.

You're deep into your second round of drinks, gossiping about Gale's newest act of narcissism when Haymitch stumbles up to the table with a lopsided grin on his face. You're not quite sure, but you think you hear him mutter something about "bread boy and his flower girl" under his breath, and you blush at the nickname. The first time Peeta had introduced you to his loved ones, Haymitch and Katniss included, you had prepared a fresh bouquet from the forest behind your cottage for each of them. While most found the gesture sweet, Haymitch laughed playfully at you and told Peeta he had found a keeper. You snap our of your memories when you hear Peeta ask "Y/N, do you know what you wanna order?". "Oh sorry, I'll just get some fried noodles if that works?" you reply, to which he nods.

"So anyways Y/N, how is your little kitten doing? Last I heard he was tearing up your bedsheets at night with those sharp claws" Katniss remarked. You're about to answer when Haymitch pipes in, "I think the bedsheets were torn by someone else we know", a smug smirk resting on his face. You can feel your face flush as Peeta nearly chokes on his drink next to you, sputtering in shock at his mentor's crass insinuation. After a moment of shocked silence, you reply "oh yeah he's a little troublemaker little Charlie, silly little guy". 'Real smooth, Y/N' you think as you internally groan. "Well then..." Katniss thankfully intervenes, "Buttercup has been a complete menace the last few days and we can't figure out why". You zone out a bit as she explains the older kitty's disasterous ways until you're snapped back to reality by the familiar feel of Peeta's hand on your thigh. This wasn't an uncommon occurances for the two of you; you know how much your boyfriend loves to tease you while you were out together, but doing so in the company of others was completely new. You cast him a questioning glance out of the corner of your eye, still stuck in the world inside your own head. "I just don't see why you let those furry rascals behave like that. They seem more trouble than they're worth" Haymitch grunted. 'Oh right, cats' you remember and quickly start "our little Charlie is just too cute to discipline too much, he should grow out of his kitten curiosity soon enough". From beside you, Peeta responds "I tried to yell at him for getting fur in my dough, but Y/N scolded me instead". All you could think about was his hand dancing up your inner thigh until he's so close to where you need him. 'Is he absolutely insane?!' you ponder as you kick his leg under the table. "Hmm, seems like there might be a little trouble in paradise over there" Haymitch declared, to Katniss' disapproval. "No, I'm sure they're too infatuated with each other to even consider arguing over parenting a cat" she chortles as you force yourself to laugh along.

The only thing on your mind is Peeta. Peeta's strong arms rubbing against your side as you talk. Peeta's smooth voice laughing alongside your own. Peeta's thick fingers sliding the hem of your dress up further and further to gain access to the one place he truly desires. Thankfully, Katniss and Haymitch seem to be unaware of the tension unfolding across the booth from them as they bicker over who knows what. You hear Peeta chime in "Well I guess that makes sense, but wouldn't the Capitol stop that from happening in the first place?". Asshole, how could he be so calm and collected while his fingers are rubbing circles into your upper thigh. "FUCK!". You can't help but yelp in surprise and unexpected pleasure as Peeta's fingers slide under your underwear and slip between your wet folds. Conversation at the table halts as your three companions look at you with concern, but you can see a taunting glimmer in your boyfriend's eyes as he remarks "babe, are you feeling alright?". Katniss quickly chimes in, "I can call Prim if you're ill, her healing abilities are getting better every day.". 'Goddammit Peeta' you think as you try to formulate a coherent response. "Oh no no no no I'm alright, I just got a little cramp in my leg is all, everything is alright now" you reassure the group, making extra care to glare at the blonde boy next to you.

He just hums in response, sliding his fingers up so they rest on your swollen clit. 'Oh what a jackass'. "Anyways, how is Effie doing these days? Haven't seen her in weeks." Peeta asks as he starts making slow circles over your clit. Your breathing quickens. Across from you, Haymitch starts explaining "her mother got ill, she's been staying with her parents while helping her mom recover". You're trying to listen, but your eyes slide shut as Peeta's gentle caresses turn more rough, gaining speed and pressure against your throbbing clit. You let out a sigh as you feel a finger prod at your sensitive entrance, slowly sliding in and exploring it's newfound territory. 'You're alright, Y/N. Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. Don't give him the reaction he's looking for and he should stop.'. Another finger enters, curling into your sweet spot. Katniss and Peeta have moved onto grilling Haymitch about just *how* he knows so much about Effie's life as the older man sputters trying to find an excuse. As Peeta's fingers keep moving inside you, you're grateful for the excuse to recluse yourself from the conversation. A few weeks before Effie departed for the Capitol, she had drunkenly confessed to you the extent of she and Haymitch's relationship. She proceeded to swear you to secrecy, a vow you refused to break.

All was going well in the conversation, or as well as it could be with your boyfriend steadily assaulting your core with his rough hand, until Peeta glances at you and asks "well Y/N, since Effie told you you can't say anything from that night how about instead you tell us about when Effie accidentally got high on her birthday flowers you gave her?". "I'm sorry, the time she WHAT?" Katniss gawked at the blonde's outrageous statement before turning to you. "Now this is a story we have to hear" Haymitch pitched in, a confused smile lurking on his lips. "Well babe? You've gotta share now" Peeta smirks, moving his fingers inside you at an increased rate. "W- w- well it was Effie's birthday like Peeta said" you began, all of your focus going into keeping your voice steady as your boyfriend continued his movements, "a- and I couldn't afford a r- real gift for her so I gathered a nice bouquet from the f- forest.". You couldn't find the words you needed, your brain instead resorting to a steady chant of 'Peeta, Peeta, Peeta, Peeta'. You take a deep breath in, more of a gasp, before trying to continue "basically Effie thought they would be edible so she put them on her slice of cake Peeta made her and I found her later in town trying to play catch with a stray cat". You heave a sigh of relief as Katniss and Haymitch start laughing, too enamored by your tale to notice your speedy finish and reddening face. Just as you think you're in the clear, Peeta slides a third finger into your entrance while challenging "yeah, and what happened after that babe?". At this point you can barely breathe, needing an escape from this booth and fast, so you say "sorry I need to go to the restroom" and try to close your thighs to stand up. Peeta, however, has other plans, telling you "you can go in just another minute, you've gotta finish your story for me first" with a wink. You feel his fingers moving in and out of you, curving perfectly into the spot that nearly makes you see stars, as you try to stammer "I got Peeta to h- help a- and the stray cat was C- Charlie who we rescued". "You feel the muscles in your stomach start to contract and you know if Peeta doesn't stop his ministrations right now you're going to cum at the table. Your hand flies down to grab his wrist and he instantly halts his movement, retracting his hand and subtly helping you resituate your garments before you stand and rush to the bathroom. The last thing you hear as you're leaving the booth is the blonde whisper "good girl" into your ear, making you weak in the knees.

'Get yourself together Y/N' you thought as you splashed cool water on your face. You had been so close to your orgasm you could almost taste it, and now you had to calm your mind and body before you return to the group and finish dinner. You took a few more deep breaths and thoroughly readjusted your clothing to hide any lingering evidence of your encounter before stepping back out into the resturaunt and rejoining the table.

In the time it took you to compose yourself and return, food had been served and your three companions had already began to dig into their meals. "Hey, you're back, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Katniss questions, genuine concern shining through her usually flat tone. "Yeah I'm alright, that leg cramp was acting up again so I just needed to stretch it out a little bit" you lie as you sit down to try your noodles. The rest of the meal goes smoothly, and attention is diverted from you when Haymitch finally decides to reveal some details about him and Effie. As the four of you laugh away the evening, you feel like you're at home, surrounded by the people you love most in life. "Well, it was a pleasure getting to see you guys tonight" Peeta sighs standing up and stretching. Your group ended up staying at the resturaunt until all of you are yawning trying to stay awake amidst your chaotic conversing. As all of you stand up and start grabbing your jackets, Haymitch asks "is anybody interested in catching dessert before we all depart? I'm personally stuffed but I guess I'll cover you guys for some cake, my treat". Katniss smiles, but replies "I'm good Haymitch, use that money to buy Effie something nice", then laughs. You catch Peeta's eye with an inquisitive glance, but notice his eyes darken as he turns to you with a smirk. He responds, "Thanks Haymitch, but I think Y/N has dessert covered for me tonight."

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #hunger games #the hunger games #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut

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artsyanapink · 11 months

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GANONDORF X READER

I was in hospital for 30 hours and had to start writting the smut part while I was on morphine. Really great decision... 👍 Anyway it's my first Ganon fanfiction so I hope I wrote the character well. I Imagined Ganon in Hyrule Warrior while writting this.

Warnings: SMUT Dubcon (kinda, I just want to be dominated by that man 😳), lust potion and use of force (I like things kinky and hard sorry not sorry) I ain't into villains and bad guys acting like puppies, so don't expect fluffy stuff. He's a bad guy. Not the Demon King for nothing.

On AO3 as well

It's being three years since Hyrule fell. Three years since the castle darkened. There was no sight of the princess anywhere after the king falls. Rumors has it that an evil Gerudo man took the place of the late king and that was the reason why the sun was never in the sky, replace by black clouds, especially close to the castle.

You were always taking a walk in the shopping district of the castle, taking in the songs of the birds and the voices of marchands urging people to buy their stocks. Everything, you would buy it there. But not anymore.

With no more exchanges between the four cities, there was nothing to buy in Hyrule. It was a dead place no matter where you lay your eyes upon. You had to go by feet in Goron city for the spices, Zora domain for the fishes, Rito village for arrows, sugar canes as well as oil and Gerudo town for the fruits. Only apples were growing close to your home and it was getting dimmer and dimmer.

You made plan to get to one place each five days since the travelling was taking you two and a half. One if you were lucky to not incountered monsters lurking.

Today you would be going to Gerudo town to restock. You didn't dare go for some days after hearing more beasts were in the region. Hopefully today it would be calm. You changed for the heat while hiding your head from the gust of sand that were frequent and made your way to the town.

You knew you were closer when the dried grass started disappearing and the rocks made their presence known with their massiveness. They were huge. So big that they curved in the center, almost hiding the sun for any light to go through. And no sunlight in the Gerudo desert meant a chilling cold. Fortunately your clothes were warm enough to support the drop of temperature.

It wasn't warm enough however to keep you from the chill that went all the way through your spine. It seemed darker despite the sun hidden already and the shadow casted next to you gave you the affirmation you weren't alone. With small steps, you turned face to face with a enormous horse. His skin as black as charcol and his mane like fire. Your breath stucked in your throat when you saw the rider.

Ganondorf.

You would prefer being embushed by ten bokoblins than with this devil. You had at least a chance of getting away with the first.

"What is a girl like you doing here at night?" His gruff voice made the hair on your body stand as his eyes stared at you in the darkness.

You didn't like the attention on you like this, especially from this type of person. You stepped back, hoping to skirt around the man. "Nothing that concern you, sir." But he moved his horse in your way, halting you as the animal tapped its left hoof angrily with a whinny. You almost tripped at its actions.

"I insist." Ganondorf got down his mount, the clacking of his metal armor resonating in the silence as he made his way to you. He felt something special about you and despite having his doubt about a mere hylian, he would get to the bottom of this. Just like the animal was, the man was huge. Some hair escaped from the shawl on your head, his own red free in the wind. "I think you know who I am."

"I really do not know." You wished he would leave you alone. Ganondorf was gorgeous in your opinion, yes, but a danger. An evil being. It wasn't recommend to mess or less talk with him.

He gritted his teeth. "Do not lie to me, little girl." He grasped your wrist forcefully and you let out a painful whine. "Lying to me is like spitting on my face. Showing dirrespect will get you nowhere." Your body struggled against his hold, profanities leaving your lips every second for him. His eyes widened suddendly when a light blind the both of you, but not enough for the man to losen his grip. "That mark—" A twisted smile appeared on his face at the middle triangle glowing on the back of your hand. "So the legend is true. It does exist."

Confused and scared, you didn't falter your movements. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes met, the claws of his armor leaving a gasp from you. "Let me go!"

"I can't do that now with you in possession of something so important." There was a pregnant pause as his eyes gazed over your form. "You could still proved useful after I've taken it." Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words.

"What—"

Ganondorf reached for the glow with one hand while the other was still holding you in mid-air. It felt like he was piercing your skin and you screamed, the light around you growing bigger. By the time the light dismished, your body fell limp. The triangle that was on your hand turned grey, getting a scoff from the man. He smirked nonetheless knowing he was closer to get the power he wanted and deserved.

"Just two more."

•°•°•

Your sleep was over when you were throw on something soft. The action making your body bounced and mind alert. The hair on your skin rose up when your eyes made out a figure.

How long was he there?

"Look who decided to finally wake up." He sneered. You jumped from the bed but a yelp left your mouth when you were held back, tangling on the side of the bed. A gold chain was on your ankle, great.

Your eyes glared at him after colliding with the bedpost. Anything to be far from him although you knew inside that wouldn't stop this monster. "You got what you want Ganondorf. Why am I still here?"

The man chuckled darkly. "Feisty, aren't we?" He started to take off his armor, only the armsets with the claws staying. When he turned around however, red flood on your face. He already seemed built but without a top? The man was buff with muscles, red chest hair contrasting with his skin color. Your eyes broke from the sight immediately, hoping the Gerudo didn't see that.

But, oh, he did. "Enjoying the view small one?" Ganondorf threw the armor far while approaching your form dangerously. His eyes slit, challenging you to lie to him again and that shut you up. It only left you angry at yourself for finding this evil king attractive.

"You will stay here to keep me compagny and do as I say. Better started getting obediant now."

Keeping him compagny? "So now I am your pet?" You murmured unhappy, yanking the chain in resilience.

Ganondorf smirked devilishly, lookind down at you. He sounded condescending. "If you want to call it that way, pet." He emphasized the last word. "But you will watch your mouth soon enough."

"Or what?"

The door knocked suddenly, catching you on guard at who it might be. However, by the smile widening on the Gerudo man, you weren't excited to know. A sheikah entered the room. They look at you briefly and then at him. "Lord Ganondorf, I had found what you requested." The sheikah bowed down, giving the man a vial filled with red liquid.

Ganondorf didn't even look their way, his amber eyes on the vial with a twisted expression. "You're still being loyal after all these years, Sheik. I'm surprised."

"I follow whoever is the enemy of the royal family."

"That'll be all." The Sheika left in a puff of smoke.

"What is that?" Your voice was hoarse from the anxiousness, your gaze between the vial and the man.

"Something to keep you in line. It will bring great excitement to you, don't worry." The Gerudo man thugged the chain toward him, resulting in your body sliding to the end of the bed like a doll. It's like you weight nothing. It got a yelp from you and a booming laugh from him. He gripped the ties harder, bringing your face closer to his after the man crouched. "Open wide." But your mouth stayed close. Ganondorf growled at your disobience, irritated. "Don't start again, girl." He grabbed your cheeks and pressed with his armored claws digging into the skin. "Drink."

You finally let go after looking at him. The liquid ran down your troat. Instantately you felt hot and lighthead. "That fast huh?"

You couldn't keep your eyes off Ganondorf, your silent attraction reavealing itself so easily. "I feel strange."

He positionned himself on top of you, chest in full view. "You understand the effects do you, princess?" That nickname was new but it didn't bother you much as it turned you on more instead. Ganondorf cut the clothes with the sharp tip before grazing your nipples, eliciting a loud moan from you. Your voice ragged and reaching for air. The man continued to massage your breasts. "How does it feels?"

"You bastard—AH!"

He smirked triumphally while sucking the sensitive part. His tongue was hot and moving fast against your nipple. Your breath quickened at the attention your body was receiving. You hate that you love this. "Don't stop..." You whimpered, hiding your face with your hand.

"What was that girl?" You were interrupted by his hand caressing your lower parts. "Mh." Ganondorf gazed down a moment, his grin larger. "You're enjoying this quite a lot I see." The squishing sound of your garment and the juices were making you even more embarrassed.

"Just...." You try to ignore his eyes lingering on you. "Please continue..."

"Certainly princess."

Your lower body was naked as the air caressed your pussy. The man didn't struggle to take off partly his robe, revealing his member pulsing in front of you. Your pupils dilated and your mouth opened. "It won't fit—"

Ganondorf hands grabbed you easily by the hips, putting you on his lap, just over his member. Your owns instantly placed on his shoulders to create distance. "You were so excited to continue this little game." His voice resonated in your ears like honey, earning another whimper.

"I—"

His armored hand grabbed your cheekbones with power while you watched him with a mixture of lust and fear. "I'm in charge here girl. Don't command me, a king."

The intrusion was sudden but weirdly not as painful as you had thought. Maybe because your juices were flowing and cascading down the interior of your thighs. "That's it." He groaned silently, closing his eyes. The man's hands moved to your waist, applying more force before bringing your down again.

Your gasps filled the room. You were shaking. "It's too much! I'm too filled!"

"Perfect." Ganondorf replied and smacked his hips into you repeatively. He grabbed your hair from behind, another moan leaving your lips in exctasy. "You're mine to keep." He rolled his pelvis, touching new parts inside you that made you see stars. "Your power is mine. All of you—" He growled, changing position so you were now crouched on top of him, his arms snaking around your body and entering deeper than he had previously. "Is mine."

Your eyes rolled to the back, tongue out and sweat running down your body. "More....More please." You whimpered, shaking.

The movement stopped suddenly as his grip on you losened. You watched him with confusion and despair. You were so close! "Why are you stopping?" Your hands were on his pecks, his breathing moving your whole body to the ryththm.

"Oh, don't worry, princess. We are far from finished." He explained smugly. You were roughly switched on your stomach, your eyes half-lidded from the potion and the pleasure. Ganondorf fondled with your buttcheeks and you were vocal again after metal slapped the flesh.

"Ah!"

The man hips collided with your back, the new intrusion farther inside you. He gripped one arm, arching your body towards him while the other hand rest on the redened flesh. "How do you feel?" He huffed, his pelvis either creating round movements or entering forcefully, eliciting shocks across your body. "I sense your lust from your part of the triforce." He groaned, slapping harder but slower.

"I can't feel like this—I can't—" You mumbled inconherently and before you knew it, white filled your vision.

You rested there on the bed, panting and disheveled as Ganondorf looked over at you one last time then left the room laughing with an evil smile on his lips.

#x reader #fanfiction #i love him #ganon #ganondorf #ganondorf x reader #especially smut #reader #zelda #hyrule warriors #ganon x reader

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yanxidarlings · 3 months

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hello !! I've been really interested in your "not slytherin" writing and i think i have reread it more than 20-ish times hahahah since it's really good and you're the reason why i am invested in all these fan characters (since i didnt see what their appeal was before reading your work).

and now speaking of it, I'm now thinking about a specific "what if?" scenario, and that is; what if the suffering the reader goes through becomes so much to the point it transforms them into an obscurial? they have pretty much oppressed all their emotions, all their negativity, for four years— and it broke them. and the angst would be so good for this. the reader would definitely be more than distrustful. they're afraid that since their name has already been burnt off their own family; they would soon be expelled or even worse taken into the ministry for how dangerous they are to the other students. and this would definitely up the yandere factor to another level. they're aware theyre at fault for most of the reader's suffering, and that a single trigger would cause them to burst but then they can't do a single fucking thing about it or else.

not a request, but it's something ive been thinking about for a long time now !! (I'm really new to the hp fandom and ur writing definitely made me want to read more into them so I'm glad i stumbled upon it suddenly ^^)

dude, broski, broskilenski, ur a wizard of some sort because HOW ELSE COULD YOU READ MY MIND

i was considering making the reader an obscurial (my favourite fanfiction trope by far) but hesitent incase it was too farfetched but I HAVE BEEN GIVEN A SIGN

was sitting on not slytherin aye p2 but this ask has given me the inspiration to write

so without further adieu, with compliments to the other not slytherin p2 ask

jaythes1mp asked:

Could you do a part two of your latest fic (at this time) — YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE?

Where all the sudden suffocating affection they’re showing him after years of tournament makes him leave Hogwarts because he’s so terrified. He knows they couldn’t have changed, since they’re still threatening anyone near him. But once news gets around to them that he’s leaving for good? How would they take the news? And if they learn that he’s been disowned from his family? Would that be a good or bad thing — because now they can’t arrange a marriage. And it would be harder to find him if he got out of their grasps.

Would they be forced to team up? Would they force him into an unbreakable vow or blood pact??

Please do my request, I’ll beg. Just ask, I will actually get on my knees and beg. 🙏🙏🙏🙏

i present

YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE? P2

“remember, you have to do anything to be slytherin, no matter what it takes” draco's words replayed in m/n's head. he'd replayed that sentance so much it had become distorted, is that even what he said m/n thought to himself, watching the train pass by.

under his eyes were bags the size of boulders, he hadn't slept in days. not since..

"excuse me, sir" a voice rung in his head. m/n shook his head, he wanted it all to go away, go away, go away- "mister, i'm gonna have to ask you for ID" somesort of internal wiring within him snapped "GO AWAY" m/n screamed, finally turning to face to the person- man.. muggle police officer, that had been addressing him.

the officer moved back, taking a strange device off his uniform and speaking into it "i'm gonna need back-up, barkley" whilst the man was engaged, m/n made a run for it.

"GET BACK HERE YOUNG MAN" the police officer bellowed, chasing after the teenage boy.

running through, down the subway and onto the train tracks, the officer gave up the pursuit. sooner or later the boy would be run over by an oncoming train in the tunnels.

after running for who knows how long, m/n finally slowed to a walking pace. then he stopped. the sound of a horn filled his ears, the pitch black tunnel illuminated by the vehicles headlights. i

it was getting closer

m/n looked around, there was nowhere to go in the narrow tunnel

closer

tears filled his eyes, but instead of sobbing he began laughing, only to break out into a fit of sobs and then revert back to laughter.

it was too close

suddenly a BANG was heard as the train came to a stop, the tunnel filled with black mist, which had somehow crushed the head of the train.

it was not natural, it was.. dark magic.

• it was on the front page of the daily prophet the next day 'OBSCURIAL SIGHTING IN SOUTH LONDON SUBWAY' obscurials were no common occurance, the last one was reported in the 1930's, new york.

• it wasn't a cured illness, no, the circumstances of it's development had simply become less common. children of all blood status' had access to education in order to facilitate their powers, and there were muggleborn programs across the world to ensure they did not develop one either.

• it had the ministry stumped. there were no leads on the obscurus, nor was a body found to sugget the outburst had caused the hosts death.

• albus dumbledore was no stranger to obscurials, he had lost so much to them, his sister, his nephew — but he knew well what power the host of one held. and the key role one could play in the coming war.

• which is why he had to find the obscurial before the ministry, or lord voldemort did.

"i am not here to hurt you, m/n" the headmaster called out, slowly approaching the young wizard, who's wand was drawn. "what spell do you plan to use, child?" the older man chimed, it was no secret m/n l/n was never the best with applied magic, like he was with potions or magical creatures

m/n's wand arm shook, "petrificus totalus" upon speaking the words, his wand shot out a spell, of which dumbledore blocked. hitting into the ground, the concrete began to degrade.

terrified, m/n dropped his wand, eyes glassy and wide "i didn't- i have to go" he stuttered out

"there are people who will hurt you, who will use you as a weapon" dumbledore moved closer to the boy who was now shaking "i can help, you can help, you don't have to be the monster the obscurus compels you to be" they were now face to face, or beard to cheek, as m/n couldn't break his eyes away from the concrete.

when the boy nodded, the headmaster took his arm, and a loud POP sounded through the air.

the next day, m/n attended breakfast as if he had not been missing for the past two weeks.

the headmaster had given him his own room under the guise of spacing issues, perhaps having an escape would make this year less hellish, or maybe spending too much time alone would exuberate his growing instability.

at least he could kill one of his tormenters without any witnesses now.

a couple people stared at him as he made his way to the great hall, lovegood had even greeted him. albeit she held the quibbler she had with her close to her chest.

"salazar!" he heard a familiar voice exclaim from behind him, arms wrapping around him "where have you been, l/n" he didn't like the way malfoy was looking at him, it was soft "i thought- i thought you had done something stup-"

m/n was quick to shove off malfoys embrace, rather roughly, before turning around to walk away.

he was pulled back, he now saw malfoys eyes were glassy, as if he was about to cry. what a baby, m/n thought, he wasn't listening to whatever bollocks was coming out malfoys mouth, instead he just glared "and i'm sorry if i was the reason-"

"malfoy, just go cry about this to the house elves, they get paid to care i don't"

and with that, m/n was off, ignoring zabini and nott who were staring at him as he shoved past.

• as the days went by, his tormentors wouldn't leave him alone, but they weren't doing what they always had, they were being nice. which scared him even more. perhaps because niceness was so foreign or because he knew it had to be a ploy for their next big trick.

• he wanted to be left alone by them but there was no way out. they held him in chokeholds they called hugs and suffocated him with what they called kisses.

• they sat with him in class and one of them was always partnered up with him, but they just wanted to sabotage his grades, and get him expelled.

• they were no longer hostile towards him but towards each other, whenever one caught him with another, they'd fight each other with wits or fists.

• they dragged him to their dorm every night and drew sticks to decide who he would be stuck with for the night. he never slept those nights, they were just waiting for him to fall asleep so they could do something horrible.

• but he rarely ever slept at all these days, which is what contributed to the paranoia that led him to leaving.

• the only reason he stayed was for headmaster dumbledore, who had been attempting to help him learn to control the obscurus, to no avail. when the headmaster was outcast by the ministry, there was no reason to stay and wait to get caught for what he was.

"do you understand your fault, mr l/n" the sickeningly sweet sound of umbridges voice filled his ears, it was more painful than the cuts inflicted on him by the quill he had been forced to write with.

blood was trickling down to the floor, the words that he had been made to write indecipherable, covered in the blood they had drawn. "i must not disrespect the high inquisitor" he uttered, teeth clenched.

"i don't think you understand, mr l/n, twenty more lines"

he remained still, staring at the blood on the carpet, then at the decorative plates embeded with cats, and then at umbridges face.

"i quit"

"pardon, mr l/n?"

m/n stood up out of his chair, dropping the quill on the floor "i'm leaving hogwarts" he threw his wand on the table he had been forced to maim himself at, before storming out of the room.

• the news soon reached the slytherins that their beloved m/n had left the school, leaving them bewildered.

• when draco tried to find the reader by having his father get in contact with the l/n's, it finally hit them that m/n had been disowned, rendering their previous efforts to keep him useless.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaise is probably the most crushed. his entire plan involved arranging a marriage with the reader, which was now impossible. but what upsets him more is that m/n never even told him. five months and not one mention of being disowned.

• he's mad at the reader until he comes to know the reason for the reader being disowened - because of all he and the other slytherins had done to make it seem like he was a blood traitor.

• blaise hated himself for being a part of it all, but above all, he hated the other slytherins for starting it all. it was draco's fault they all started tormenting him, it was mattheos fault they took it to the extreme.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco had his suspicions from the moment m/n returned, his father had mentioned in passing about the l/n's and how dissapointed they were in their son. but it usually ended in lucius praising draco for being such a good son, so he had never paid it much mind.

• it was his fault, he knew it. he hated feeling powerless but that's what he felt as his father told him m/n hadn't gone back home. m/n didn't have a home. he could be out there all on his own, exposed to the dangers of the muggle world..

• his obsession only grew after m/n left hogwarts, every moment of every day he wondered where he was, if he was okay, if he was with anyone. if he was with anyone he'd end them.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo had been told by his parents a few months ago they were unable to arrange a marriage because m/n had been disowned. not that he told anyone else, let them think they have him whilst lorenzo makes m/n fall in love with him.

• except his every advance was met with rejection or hostility. and when m/n left for good he was devastated, how were they supposed to live out their love story now?

• lorenzo confronts the other slytherins when the news m/n had left reached them, which is what led to the realization that they were all sickly obsessed with the ravenclaw.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• something had been strange about m/n the moment he returned, mattheo saw it in his eyes. whether it was what he had gone through the previous years still haunting him, or something else, mattheo tries to get m/n to talk to him, but he's.. mattheo, who once broke m/n's ribcage from beating him.

• it was impossible to foster any trust no matter what he did. he tries to talk about his own struggles, his cruel father and upbringing. he tries to treat m/n like a porcelain doll, but the walls never go down.

• hell hath no rage like a riddle scorned, mattheo would have killed umbridge if tom hadn't stopped him. but he wasn't done with just her, the l/n's were next on his path of rage, and there was little anyone could do to stop him from inflicting a painful death on them

THEODORE NOTT

• theo could barely handle m/n's reluctance to warm up to him, it took every bit of strength in him not to yell and force m/n into opening up, accepting his affection, but m/n not being there at all? theo goes off the rails.

• he fears the worst, what if.. m/n.. theo thinks to himself every moment he's not thinking about how to get him back. when draco tells him m/n was disowned, he broke down crying in the bathroom when he was alone later.

• the world was not safe for a young wizard with no wand or money. what if the dark lord went after him for being a blood traitor. theo went with mattheo to threaten umbridge, and figure out where m/n would have gone.

TOM RIDDLE

• tom could see all the pain m/n was going through when he used legilimency on him. he saw the abuse, the torment, the self hatred, and he knew what the reader had been through and become.

• he's furious that m/n's own parents would disown him, as if he was disposable. it reminded him too much of his own father. but he puts his emotions aside to focus on what really mattered, finding and keeping m/n.

• tom was the only one who had figured out m/n's condition, and used it to his advantage, telling his father that the reader was the obscurus the ministry had been looking for, making m/n voldemorts new target for capture.

tracking down an obscurial was not as simple as the dark lord had anticipated it to be, which is why he delegated the task to his eldest son who had first hand experience with the boy, m/n l/n.

coming to a stop as the sight of the boy filled tom vision, the young death eater watched as m/n stared down his reflection in the water. tom slowly came closer, wand at the ready, until his own reflection revealed his presence.

"you look horrible" the boy turned to face tom as he spoke "you here to kill me, riddle?" m/n sounded resigned, like he had already accepted it.

but that was not what tom was there for. "the dark lord wants you within his ranks" tom stated, avoiding m/n's dead gaze. "what the dark lord wants does not concern me" m/n took a step back, he was scared, tom could tell.

"are you going to make this difficult for me, m/n?" tom took a step closer, snaking an arm around the males waist.

before m/n had the chance to try and stab him in the eye with his own wand, tom stunned him, knocking him out, as lord voldemort came out of the shadows "well done, son" tom looked down at m/n's unconscious face as they apparated. you'll love me oneday.

• the readers condition certainly complicates things for the slytherins, it's no longer simply just subjugate him whether he likes it or not, the readers stability is the difference between life or death, freedom or azkaban for them.

• he becomes the dark lords puppet project, a weapon to use against the order of the phoenix and a tool to keep the future of the death eaters loyal.

• he never returns to hogwarts, tom made sure he was outted as the obscurial so that he'd never have anywhere to run, everywhere he could go he would be seen as a threat, a monster.

• an all-out war breaks out bewteen the slytherins once they have the reader in their grasp again. no one is willing to relent, m/n belongs to them. not the others, them.

• the slytherins would slowly come to the realisation there was no single 'winner', none of them could ever have a normal life with him now the dark lord was back and he had developed an obscurus.

• instead the focus would switch into keeping m/n safe, from voldemort, from himself, from the ministry, from everything.

TOM RIDDLE

• out of all of them, tom can handle m/n's obscurus the best. mostly because he's level headed enough not to set him off. sure he has some sadistic tendencies but at the cost of his own, and surrounding lives?

• tom's obsession was exuberated by the obscurus, it made his darling all the more appealing. to hold such power over someone so powerful is what drives him to sometimes provoke the obscurus, to see what potential m/n truly holds.

• sometimes he goes to far and gets someone or himself seriously injured. he wants to help his darling learn to control the obscurus, but it's hard to acheive when he himself also wants to control his darling.

THEODORE NOTT

• theo is frankly horrified when he finds out m/n had developed an obscurus. he had only ever heard stories about obscurials dying young, after an outburst they can't control.

• he wonders how long m/n had suffered with it for. in the back of his mind, he hopes it was before hogwarts, or else he truly was an absolute piece of shit, to help torment the one he loves most into such a despairful illness.

• theo spends the time he's not with his darling searching through the old pureblood libraries for even a hint of a cure. he wanted to be with his darling forever, but the oldest obscurial only ever lived until 23. theo won't stop until he can figure out how to get rid of the obscurus.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• mattheo knows he's most likely the reason, above all the other slytherins, for the readers affliction. he was the one who chased him into dark hallways and used the torture curse, the one who said the nastiest things, the one who went the furthest with the torment.

• he wishes he could take all his darlings pain away. because one wrong word, one accidental touch, could send him over the edge. a world without his darling is what scares him the most, above everything fucked up in the wizarding world.

• so he treats m/n like a single bump would shatter him. it's difficult, mattheo isn't exactly the super soft type, but he tries, he knows if any of the slytherins caught m/n looking upset around him they'd end him.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo underestimates the readers condition, until he finally see's it for himself one day when snape had called m/n a freak, and he exploded. safe to say, it terrified enzo.

• he's under the impression that if he loves m/n enough, the obscurus will go away. deep down he knows it won't, but it helps him justify the heap of affection he doses his darling in. his heart breaks when he's pushed away and he knows pushing back could result in the worst.

• lorenzo is the readers number one caretaker. he always reminds them to eat and get sleep and not to stress about anything. he tries to treat them as normally as possible but it gets difficult when the obscurus mentality kicks in and m/n starts talking about killing them all.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco isn't quite sure how to approach his dear darling after finding out he's an obscurial. draco is overcome with guilt for the hand he had in it, and abominably frustrated he can't just force the reader into doing what he wants.

• when he becomes a death eater he begins to fear for his darlings safety, he hears what the dark lord says about his plans including m/n, and it scares him. there's no regard for m/n's safety or survival, the dark lords only goal is to set m/n off when he takes hogwarts for a quick and easy victory.

• draco tries to get closer to m/n by playing the dependent rich boy, who doesn't know how to do anything for himself. draco figures that if m/n starts to feel responsible for him, it'll be harder for him to leave or say no.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaises mother told him to stay far away from m/n when she found out. if it were anyone else he would take her advice, but this was his darling, and he could never abandon him over a small imperfection.

• he's the easiest to be around among them all, he doesn't feel the need to always been touching or talking to the reader which is usually what sets him off.

• blaise tries to help m/n settle back into normal life (normal meaning non socially isolated endlessly tormented), but years of torment has taken it's toll in more ways than one. sometimes m/n will accuse blaise and the others of the strangest things, but they all have to take it in stride, or else risk an outburst.

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bonky-n-steeb · 2 years

Text

anytime, anywhere

summary || Bucky is flattered when he finds fanfiction, but he isn’t even aware of what half of the words mean.

warnings || shy! reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, metal arm kink, fingering, thigh riding, choking, multiple orgasms, very filthy. PWP — MINORS DNI 🔞 if any of this makes you uncomfortable then please do not read!

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

sjsjdhdhy… I hope you like this hehe

“Is this what people write about me?” Your head snapped up from the novel you were reading as Bucky’s voice reverberated in the otherwise empty room. He sat besides you on the lush sofa and you kept your book aside.

The avengers tower was fairly empty except you two today as the others were either on vacation or had gone on missions. And it wasn’t new for him to come with you with questions as you’d become his unofficial guide into this modern world.

“What?” You were confused at his sudden question. He turned his phone towards you and it took a moment for the words shining on the screen to seep into your head. You nervously gulped as you realised that it was a smutty fanfiction about him.

“It’s… it’s fanfiction…. like uh,..” you spluttered around your words as Bucky just shook his head. “I know. I searched up what it meant on the internet. I mean I’m flattered they write about me. It’s interesting for sure. But I don’t even know what half of these words mean.”

You licked your dry lips as you realised what exactly Bucky wanted to ask you, and it was somehow worse than just explaining fanfiction to him. Bucky thoughtfully scrolled through his phone before speaking. “What’s cock warming? Is it something related to chickens?”

In other circumstances, you would’ve laughed your ass off, but right now you were faced with the looming question of how to answer Bucky’s question. “Bucky.. I… it’s…I umm…” your entire body became warm and Bucky held back a chuckle as you stuttered with embarrassment.

“If it’s so difficult, let it be.” Bucky waved his hand off in a dismissive gesture. You sagged into the couch with relief. Bucky became silent for some time and you thought that he wouldn’t ask more questions. But you were wrong, “What’s thigh riding?”

“Umm, thigh.. thigh riding.. uh, right… about that…” you were nearly sweating at this point and you couldn’t properly process words. You knew how to explain it, you just didn’t know how to explain it to Bucky.

He was a very good friend of yours, and you had discussed many things together, but talking about this still made your face heat up. You were lost in your own head when suddenly Bucky picked you up and placed you on his lap.

“I think it’s hard to explain. So why don’t you just show me?”

Your jaw fell open as you stared with disbelieving eyes at Bucky. Did he really just say that? You opened and closed your mouth as you wanted to speak, but no words were coming out of it.

Bucky was loving the expression on your face; almost as if he broke your brain with just his words. “You look so dumb and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” Your blinked your eyes rapidly as you tried to get your brain back online, “huh what?”

“I said, do you wanna show me?” His hand was cupping your face and you were sure he could face your heated skin. But answering his question wasn’t that difficult now that you knew he wanted the same thing as you. “Yes.”

Bucky was a fine man and only an idiot wouldn’t want him. Not only was he a good man, he was excruciatingly handsome too. His eyes darkened with hunger and a fire lit in the pit of your stomach when he repositioned you over his thick thigh.

Your fingers were trembling as you curled them in his shirt for support. A soft moan escaped your lips as he held your hips tightly while dragging your further on your thigh. The soft material of your pants was rubbing against your heated core, and yet electric sparks were travelling down your spine.

“Remove your pants.” Bucky said without sugarcoating. “Wha… what?” Your stopped moving your hips and gulped. “Remove your pants, it’ll feel better.” Bucky’s fingers began tugging the soft sweatpants you were wearing.

Of course Bucky knew what all those words meant. But he was a very cruel man. He loved it when you got shy and flustered. It was probably the best sight in the whole world for him when you nervously chewed your lips as you gazed at him with bashful eyes.

“Bucky, someone will see.” You whispered as you frantically looked around the room. The fact that you were still seated in the meeting area wasn’t lost upon you. “Let them. Let them see what they will never have.” Bucky said with a smirk.

It all felt like a dream as you stood up from his lap and undressed. Bucky’s eyes were shamelessly running down your body and the unhidden lust was making you feel more desired than you ever had. Just his dark eyes were giving you goosebumps.

He spread his thighs further apart and motioned you to come closer. You sucked in a breath as you sat on his thigh and the course material of his jeans came in direct contact with your bare pussy. You once again held on to Bucky as you began moving your hips.

Your swollen clit rubbed deliciously against his pants and you chewed on your lip as you settled into a rhythm. Bucky wasn’t touching you, instead he was sitting back and just taking in the view as you drew your pleasure from him.

“Look at the mess you’ve made.” Bucky clicked his tongue. You opened your eyes, which you didn’t even realise you’d closed in the first place, and stared at the wet patch on Bucky’s jeans. Your slick was smeared across his thigh and the sight sent an unexpected wave of arousal through you.

“Look at me.” His words didn’t leave you any option but to stare into his deep blue eyes. The intensity of the entire act was setting you aflame. “Is this what you mean by thigh riding? Hmm,.. I guess I kinda do know now what you mean by cockwarming.”

When you didn’t reply and kept going, Bucky was quick to hold your waist tightly to stop you from moving. You were nearly desperate at this point to cum and you whined in complaint, “Bucky.. please.” But Bucky just tutted back, “Please what?”

“Please just..” you wanted to scream and shout and tell him that you wanted to cum, but somehow you were getting so bashful that even words weren’t forming. “Please let me… please!” You pleaded and Bucky just raised his eyebrow in question.

“Please let me cum!” You finally managed to spill the words out. You couldn’t handle this edging anymore as you rubbed yourself over his thigh. Your entire body felt like a live wire and you didn’t think you had it in you to hold it in anymore.

“No.” Was his simple reply. You stopped your movements as you gawked at Bucky. Your lips were suddenly dry and licked them before speaking up in a hoarse voice, “what?” You were still disbelieving of Bucky clear denial. But whatever was happening was only turning you on more.

“You don’t get to cum.” He reinstated his words and you pouted. “But why?” Bucky smirked as if he was waiting to give you the explanation. “You’ve been so naughty. Reading all this dirty stuff about me.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed. “Tell me, do you deserve to cum?”

“Bucky….” you gulped before moaning out the next words. “Oh my fucking god!” You really hadn’t thought Bucky would do something like this, and now that he was, you were really enjoying the whole unexpected ride.

But your smile turned into a squeal when Bucky slapped your ass. “Good girls don’t curse like that.” He muttered before placing his metal fingers over your heated pussy. You sobbed out a choked cry when he swirled your slick over your swollen folds.

You spread your legs wider and your fists curled tighter in his shirt as two of his fingers entered you. The metal fingers were thick and cool as he fingered you. Everything that was happening right now was straight out of your dreams.

“Do you think of me? Do you imagine it to be me when you touch yourself at night?” His voice was raspy. Your body was covered with a sheen of sweat by now and you’d nearly lost all of your coherent thoughts. Your brain solely focused on the fingers curling deliciously inside you.

“Answer me!” You gulped at his commanding tone and furiously nodded your head. He smirked at your admission and you felt like hiding your face in shame. You were honestly loving the way he was making you humiliate yourself and you didn’t know how, but you wanted more of it.

Bucky trailed down kisses from your neck to your pebbled nipples and you shivered at his warm touch. He played with your tits as he nibbled and sucked your nipples and you couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up your throat as his hot mouth surrounded your pebbled nipples.

You whined at the loss when Bucky pulled back with a pop. His saliva began cooling over your sensitive skin and you shivered despite being very warm. “Look how sensitive you are. All you had to do was ask me to fuck you and I would’ve. No need of reading this stuff and getting yourself so riled up.”

You hadn’t ever thought the words spilling out of Bucky’s mouth would ever turn you on to this extent. He was already fucking you with his fingers, but somehow, you needed more. “Bucky please fuck me!” You didn’t plead, this time, you begged.

“Good girl.” You would’ve cum from just from his praise if he hadn’t pulled out his fingers. His flesh hand was still holding your waist tight enough to keep you from squirming. Your eyes nearly squinted as you followed as his fingers. He rubbed his wet fingers over your lips, smearing your slick, “Lick.”

You ran your tongue over your lips and his eyes keenly followed the movement. He placed two of his fingers back over your lips, but this time, he swiftly entered your open mouth. The fingers were thick and nearly reached the back of your throat and you gagged.

“Just like that. Suck on them like you’d suck my cock.” Encouraged by Bucky, you swirled your tongue over his fingers. He sucked in a sharp breath and you figured out that he could feel his metal hand. You doubled down your efforts and you could slowly feel the metal grow warmer in your mouth.

“You want to get fucked?” The question was straight forward and yet it made your head short circuit. “Yes Bucky!” He hummed as he mused and pushed his fingers deeper before pulling them out. “Go ahead then.” He said motioning towards his cock.

Bucky was making you do the work despite knowing how shy you were. With shaky hands, you unzipped his tented jeans and took out his hard length. Your mouth salivated at the sight of his thick cock and you lined it up with your sopping hole as you couldn’t wait anymore.

Your eyes clenched closed as he entered you. His thick length was stretching you deliciously as you slowly took him up to the base. His hands fisted at his sides when your hot walls wrapped around him. You took a moment to get settled with the stretch before moving your hips in a rhythmic matter.

Taking support on his chest, you began fucking yourself on his cock. Gravity was doing its work pulling you down whenever you raised yourself. He went deeper than anything you’ve ever had and you couldn’t stop the moans that kept on spilling from your lips.

“You’ll have this whenever you want.” Bucky murmured in your ear as you kept riding him. “Your tight cunt feels like heaven around my cock. Anytime you want this, just tell me. I’ll fill you up and keep you stuffed with my cum, would you like that?”

“Yes! Please, I want it. I want you so bad!” You whined. Your hips seemed to be moving of their own accord as you began fucking yourself harder. “Keep moving that pretty hole then. Keep riding me like that and I’ll fill you up nice and deep. Is that what you want?”

“Yes! Ye… yes buc.. Bucky! Pluh… please!” You stammered. You felt yourself getting closer to your release and you wouldn’t let Bucky take that away from you this time. “My fat cock’s got you stammering, ain’t it?”

His words were enough to push you on the edge as the waves of pleasure dragged you down with them. The orgasm felt like drowning in the sea and floating at the same time. It was a sublime feeling you couldn’t really put into words.

You sagged on Bucky’s chest as the climax left you feeling boneless. But Bucky was quick to flip you over on the coffee table. Your hands shook as you raised your ass up. Your breath hitched when Bucky entered you again from behind.

This time, he wasn’t merciful, he was animalistic and passionate. Unlike his previous cold exterior, he was like a man possessed now. The snapping of hips was shaking the table and he curled his hand around your neck and raised you up such that your back was pressed to his chest.

Your body was covered in sweat as you panted and moaned. His unrelenting thrusts were making stars burst behind your eyes. He was still murmuring filth into your ear, but you were too out of it to listen. You clutched his hand gracing your throat as your legs shook with the force of his thrusts.

It didn’t take long for your second orgasm to crash into you as you felt as if you were still reeling from the first. You felt little tremors of electricity going around your entire body. Your walls clenched around Bucky and he too came inside you with a loud grunt.

You nearly fell down on the sofa again, but the impact was reduced by Bucky’s body under you. You both heaved for air and as you settled down a little, you couldn’t help but start giggling. “What’s so funny?”

You were lying atop Bucky as you shook your head. “I can’t believe I fell for that.” Bucky circled his arms tightly around you. “You can act so innocent sometimes Bucky, I can’t believe this. Also did you mean it?” Bucky chuckled behind you. “Mean what?”

“Whenever I want it….” You left the rest of your sentence hanging in the air. But Bucky understood what you were saying. He turned you around such that you were facing him. “Yeah. I meant it, just ask and you’ll get it, anytime, anywhere.”

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parrythisucasual · 6 months

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What About Me? Ch. 4

Sorry it took so long guys. Been working on asks and some personal things have been kicking me in the ass. I'm hoping to get most of my asks out today so I can focus on this fic a little more. As always, I love you guys and hope you enjoy!!

Gangle talked with you for hours, making you feel much more comfortable. You had some knowledge as to how this place worked, now. You knew who was who, how they acted, and the parameters of what is considered “inappropriate” and would get you in trouble.

Eventually, she stood up, stretching. You snorted to yourself, why would ribbons need stretching? She picked up her liners and whatever paper she hadn’t drawn on, “It’s pretty late, though,” she yawned, despite the fact feeling tired wasn’t digitally possible, “I’m going to head to bed.”

“Alright,” you agree, hopping out of bed to walk her to your door. You did this out of habit: every time your friends were leaving in the real world, you would accompany them to the door. She giggled as you walked her to the door.

“Madam,” you fake an accent, bowing as you opened it for her. Gangle only laughed harder, walking from the room, “Why, thank you!” You stand upright again, waving as she trotted up the hall, “See you tomorrow!”

She waved back, “Yeah, definitely!” and slipped into her own bedroom. You pause a moment, just in case she forgot something, but she didn’t pop back out. Almost instinctively, you look down the other side of the hall. A door closed rather suddenly, making you jump. You hadn’t heard or seen anyone coming, and Gangle didn’t say anything if she had.

The fact someone had been watching you didn’t frighten you. No, it was the fact they didn’t want to be seen that made you uneasy. Your eyebrows knit together, but you decide to man up and see who it was. You ignore the little voice in your head screaming at you this is how people die in horror movies!

“Can’t die here,” you mutter under your breath, reassuring yourself a tiny bit. Reaching the door, you stop in surprise; Jax’s door stared you down, his annoying smile present even in the image that adorned it.

You raised your fist, about to knock, but stopped suddenly. There was a shadow under the door, indicating that someone was standing relatively close to it. You chicken out immediately, dropping your arm and speedwalking back towards your room, slipping inside and closing the door as quietly as possible.

You place a hand on your chest, breathing deeply to calm your anxiety. You wander to your bed, falling face-first into it. You grunt, realizing that it was a lot more of a smack than you had thought it would be. People in fanfictions did it all the time, you just copied it.

You shake your head to clear it, wrapping yourself in your sheets and snuggling down. You didn’t feel like getting lost in another existential crisis today. You yawn, surprising yourself. Maybe it was to make everyone feel normal. Your eyes droop, and you soon find yourself drifting into a deep sleep.

You were awoken to a loud banging on your door. You jolt upright, eyes wide, confused and still half asleep. “Wake up, sleeping beauty, everyone else has been up for hours.”

You grumble, trudging to the door, your blanket still wrapped around you. You swing your door open, glaring at the one on the other side.

“Jax. Was waking me like that really worth making me jump out of my skin?” His grin only widened, “Absoluetly, it’s what i was goin’ for.” You roll your eyes and toss your blanket on the ground, “I’m awake now,” you grump, shoving past Jax roughly and heading up the hallway.

You ignore his blatantly, knowing very well he was following you. He had to rush a bit to catch up with you, but soon was walking beside you, beat for beat. “What was that for? You never been woken up by your parents or something?”

The only response you give is a rather sour expression. You wouldn’t even look at him, let alone speak. You swore you saw his face drop a bit, but he recovered quickly enough. “Didn’t you ever learn manners? You’re supposed to talk back, remember?”

Ignoring him once more, you round the corner to the main hall. You perk up immediately, seeing exactly who you were looking for. “Gangle! Ragartha!” you chirp, running over, leaving Jax in the dust.

“Oh, hey! You’re a lot happier than yesterday!” Ragatha smiles sweetly. “Oh, definitely. Gangle and I hung out all day!” Gangle giggled, “I was just telling her, actually!”

You noticed Jax hadn’t moved from where you left him. He was just… standing there, looking at the little group you’d formed. He honestly looked disappointed, or maybe sad, or even abandoned. That was it, abandoned. Something about his expression made regret nibble at your chest.

“Are you coming or not?” you call to him, hoping you wouldn’t regret it. But seeing him perk up, before playing it cool as he headed to you, you knew you weren’t going to. You can handle this guy.

“Heh, sure, if you want me that bad,” he stopped beside you, crossing his arms, “what’s up, dollface? Crybaby?” Alright, maybe a bit of regret. “Don’t call Gangle crybaby,” you snap. You didn’t say anything about Ragatha, knowing she could handle herself. Besides, she didn’t seem to care about her own nickname.

“(Y/N) was nice enough to ask for you to be here, are you seriously going to ruin it by being a jerk?” Jax lifts his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, “Alright, alright!” You see him glance at you, it’s quick but you notice it. Ragatha seems to have seen it as well, and backs down a bit, “Thought so,” she adds with a grin.

TAG LIST!!! (You can always ask to be added)

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#the amazing digital circus #tadc #jax x reader #jax #tadc jax #tadc x reader #tadc jax x reader #the amazing digital circus jax

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aulescev · 5 months

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Prisoner König x Nurse Reader

Soooo, I made a fanfiction where Monster!König is a prisoner, while the reader is a nurse at a maximum security prison. I'm so excited to share it with everyone, but also kinda anxious because I never really had someone read my works, let alone post a fanfiction I made (っ ̩̆╭╮ ̩̆)っ Anyway, here it is! Hope my writing will find a place in your heart somehow!

The Confinement, To you, the nurse who loves overstepping her boundaries, be careful and take this warning seriously, or else, the monster that lives under a man’s skin might devour you whole.

Nurse Reader x Prisoner König, hate to love trope.

!! Warning, this story contains: Dub-con/Non-con, Gore descriptions, Death, Poisoning, Manipulation, Obsession, Suicide, Possessive and Controlling tendencies, and Immorality. Heavily NSFW, minors DO NOT interact. Do inform me if I missed any.

!! Proceed at your own discretion

Disclaimer: I only have basic knowledge about prison, and what prison nurses are assigned to do inside its secured walls. The same thing goes for prisoners. Consider this a fictional work based in an alternative universe, only with the same countries, and stuff but with monsters + altered laws and rights to fit the story. So take this as it is, or shoo away. You can give me a few tips so I can take note of them, but please, be kind (｡ •́‿•̀｡ ) This is my first fan fiction, and story so yeah, expect a lot of errors + English isn’t my native language + I don’t speak German and only used a translator for this, so sorry in advance for the migraines my writing could cause you.

Chapter 01: The monster that lives under a killer’s skin.

Word Count: 3.9k

∆. 12:04:55PM of November 24, m. hallway of the prison.

You're a nurse at a maximum-security prison. Providing care for both the staff and prisoners, a right everyone equally has so even if you don't like the idea of aiding murderers, and people of such backgrounds, due to some reason, this is the only job opportunity you can take as of the moment.

Today's actually your first day, so naturally, you're shown around the workplace you now have to get yourself accustomed to.

"Most importantly, don't trust anyone other than the staff. These men are filthy, better not get your hands dirty, know what I mean?" Sir Wagner stated, the disgust in his tone is evident and it's enough to let you know how much he despises the criminals behind the bars of his prison.

Even though you would like to agree with the statement of the prison's head, you can't find it in you to despise the people in the prison as much as he does. You're a little too soft sometimes, and also of contradicting nature that makes you automatically take the opposite side of any argument even when it gains you nothing.

Sensing you won't reply— honestly, he doesn't really care if you'll reply or what, since he just wants to get this over with— the warden decided to conclude that conversation there.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked, a plain tone now as he speak, putting his hands deep inside his pocket.

"None, thank you for showing me around."

You replied in an equally plain tone, also wanting to get over it already like he does. He didn't take it personally, his years as the warden made him professional and collected most of the times. Plus, he understood your unenthusiastic nature at your new job, no one after all would be that happy to work in a prison where they keep high profile criminals.

"Well, that's great then. I'll have Benedikt here assist you while you get accustomed with your new work. Ask him when you need help, and if you have any questions." With a brief glance over to the man on his right, sir Wagner introduced the other guy that unnoticeably joined your group of two along the way.

Benedikt nodded at you when you looked at him, he's got an awkward smile forced on his face as he stretch his arms towards you for a handshake.

"Benedikt MacTavish, nice to meet you," He introduced himself, his hand hanging in the air as he wait for you to reach it.

MacTavish? Doesn’t sound like a local name. You’re glad for that, at least you’re not the only foreigner on your new workplace.

"I'm—"

"Yeah, I remember. Your surname's familiar though, Price, yeah? Are you perhaps related to a military captain?" He casually cuts off your introduction, seemingly eager to know something like he can't hold the question another second longer.

A little taken aback with how he outright talked over you, you were silent for a minute to process that fact and also his question.

"Ah, yes, right," you replied when things finally start sinking in your brain, "Well, he's actually my uncle. How come you know of him?"

Honestly, he's not related to you by blood. He's just your adoptive father's cousin, which makes him your foster uncle if that word even exists. But he doesn't need to know that much about you, what would he even do with the information if you told him?

"Ah, well, my cousin's actually the man's friend. John MacTavish? Soap? Does that ring any bells?"

"Oh, Johnny, yeah, I know the man. What a small world we live in," you smiled after hearing a familiar name, finding the coincidence a bit funny.

Finally, you took Benedikt's hand to shake it, forgetting for a moment that it's still waiting for your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Soap's cousin."

"Nice to meet you, Price's niece," he returned the introduction in the same humor, a genuine smile now plastered over his lips.

"I'll leave you two to it." Sir Wagner interfered and just left you two without another word, which is honestly weird but expected of a man his type.

"Phew, glad I found something common with you, or else it'll be hard to find an ice breaker activity," Benedikt sighed in relief after sir Wagner's finally gone from the scene, "Have you already went to the dorms? Found your room, and all?"

With a shake of your head to answer his question, you wordlessly replied no and looked at him, seeing what he'll say or do.

"Ah, alright, I can show you where it is, then we can start our rounds after. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure, thanks," You answered, your tone is a bit lively now compared to with sir Wagner earlier, since you're like a chameleon who adapts to whichever environment it's in.

You're blue when they're blue, pink when they're pink, red when they're red, and so on and so forth. A firm believer of do unto others what they've done to you. Karma? You rarely put your faith in that, you mostly take things to your hands and be the human version of the word revenge. It's not really cool, in fact, you kind of live harder because of it, but no way your ego would let go of your way of living.

Benedikt started walking, looking at his back every now and then to check if you're still following him as he quietly traversed the halls that should eventually lead to the dorms.

In the middle of your journey, you passed the center of the prison that connects all wings of the building, which means, each transported prisoner would also pass the center before getting to their assigned cell.

The tension in the central building was thick, the air is almost suffocating that it made you freeze on your spot as you try to find the cause of such unnatural atmosphere.

When your eyes landed on the now closing heavy door of the building, your gaze immediately fell to the tallest man in the middle of armed men.

He instantly caught your attention with his tall height, sticking like a sore thumb from the whole crowd.

"Benedikt, you know anything about that man?" You asked in a low voice, curious to find out who he could be, not even tearing your eyes away from the behemoth of a man.

"Ah, shit, today's his transfer, I totally forgot…" He muttered under his breath with a curse, "König, an ex-military guy. Would you believe that today's only his 8th day in prison? Like all prison days combined. He won't behave in any cell he's put in, forcing him to be transferred on new places every other day with how many crimes he commit on each one."

"What??" You uttered in disbelief, taken by a total surprise with the information.

"Yeah, I'm being totally honest right now. It's not normal that a criminal would be transferred from a normal prison to the maximum security because of misbehaving, but guess what? He's committed murder after murder in each base. That's what made him worthy of maximum security prison."

You can just try to press your lips in a thin line, an attempt to hide your disgust. Murderer… The vilest things to exist in this world. How can he live knowing the fact that he's ended a person's life? Oh, how much you loathe them.

You kept a scornful gaze towards his way, throwing daggers as if your stare alone could kill the guy. And of course, it's impossible that he wouldn't feel it, eventually staring back at you.

König, as Benedikt referred him, looked back at you straight in the eyes. Even though there were no holes in the sack that's put on over his face right now, you're certain that he turned his head just to identify who could be burning a hole on his head right now.

You feel like throwing up. Just the thought of breathing the same air as that of a murderer was enough to make you feel nauseous.

"Benedikt, let's go. Bring me to the dorms already." You said, almost pleading as the desperation to get out of his presence faintly showed.

∆. 06:39:07PM of the same day, nurses' office.

"So how was your first round?" Benedikt asked, giving you the canned sparkling water he opened just now.

"Horrible," you replied, taking the canned drink from his hand and downing it quickly.

The drink slid down your throat just like any other liquid, but it's a little painful because of the fact that it's carbonated. You just downed your drink, the bubbles popping on your throat and making you feel like it's burning your insides for a second.

Benedikt gave you a concerned look, but quickly masked it with a soft laugh, "Well, I cannot blame you… Working with criminals isn't exactly the most honorable thing out there. Plus we're understaffed, which makes the workload for each of us actually horrible."

"Yeah, right, that too," you grimaced, feeling more exhausted than how you usually do back when you were just working at the hospital, "I'm sorry Benedikt, my condolences goes to you. You're the most packed nurse here."

He chuckled, "Well, if you're sorry, take some of my patients?" He joked, which earned a laugh out of you.

Before you could even reply, there's suddenly a loud bang in the room and it wasn't a gun, it was the room's door being haphazardly thrown open by a panicking nurse who's also out of breath.

Jane, one of the nurse you've met today.

"Someone! Help! Vanessa! She's– she's wounded! Her eyes! Oh my, heavens, her eyes! We have to sedate König, where's the syringe?!" She started rummaging the room for a syringe and a drug that's supposed to put a person to a deep sleep.

Alerted, Benedikt and you stood up and helped her search for something. When Benedikt got his hand on the drug, he approached Jane and held her shoulders, trying to calm her down.

"Jane, calm down, I got it, but first, I need you to take a deep breath. You can't work with panicked nerves." He tried calling in some sense to her, but she won't calm down.

She started screaming, and started getting hysterical.

Jane, and Vanessa, you're pretty sure they got a thing with each other, maybe this is why she's acting inconsolable?

"Give me the syringe and the drug, I'll respond instead," You presented, preferred to sedate a monster rather than calming a stranger down.

Benedikt's got a better knowledge than you do, it’s better you leave them be than be left to console her with words you probably wouldn't mean. At least that's what you thought.

Benedikt pondered for a moment whether you're fit or not to handle the situation, but in the end, he decided to trust you, giving you the things after all, and also telling the number cell of König.

Rushing to the scene, with an emergency kit you grabbed in the office, you wasted no time and ran as fast as you could.

1245. Cell 1245, prisoner 190228. Must hurry up to cell 1245 before it's too late.

Eventually, you reached your destination, and unfortunately for your guts, you were met with a gore scene. There's an emptied syringe poked into one of Vanessa's eyeballs, one of her hands wrapped around the object in fear as she trembles, and cries.

There's also a whole puddle of blood under her, a lot on her white uniform, and mouth. Now that you observe her, she's also shedding tears of blood, her lips tainted red as blood continues to flow out of it.

What the fuck. This scene is fucking horrendous. What happened?

The guards are gathered around König, watchful of his steps, expectant and quite tense as they wait for him to make a move— ready to stop him from causing even more havoc. While he's not moving, König is watching Vanessa bleed on the floor with cold eyes which is honestly more frightening than him causing a scene.

He's fortunately not punching one guard after the other, so you doubt there was a need for sedating him.

Surveying the situation, you decided to change your plans of prioritizing the sedation of König, to aiding Vanessa first.

Without an inch of hesitation, you knelt in front of Vanessa, some blood soaking the edge of your white skirt. You placed the emergency kit beside you, opening it with haste until everything in the kit is visible.

"It's no use!" Vanessa cried, "The poison has–" she then frantically screamed, fumbling a few of her words as she started gagging from her own blood.

Before you could even touch her, she dropped dead on the floor. A sight that will be the reason of your nightmares for days, or weeks.

You were shaken down your core, blood suddenly cold, and heart beating extremely fast out of shock. You feel your body freeze, hands that were supposed to hold her now are hanging mid-air.

"I just saved her years in prison for murder," You heard a man's voice from behind you speak in a thick, and unexpectedly boyish accent.

You can't stop your brows from furrowing, and eyes show contempt at the mere sound of his voice, let alone his words.

"You are disgusting, a vile creature, don't you dare open that filthy mouth of yours." Unable to restrain yourself, you spit each word with venom as you slowly turn around to look at him furiously, "You are the murderer here. Don't confuse it now."

He does not speak. His eyes only staring at you through those 2 small holes on his makeshift mask.

Holding his equally piercing gaze, you stood your ground, rationality has left your body. You're acting on impulse, on your emotions, something a professional shouldn't do in this type of situation but damn, your ego is just some other kind of level. It will definitely put you on your place someday, but you thought that you should just worry about it when that time comes.

"Pathetic human. Too dumb to even think." He finally broke the silence, irritation in his voice.

Before you could even reply, he had already turned his back on you, walking back to his cell on his on will. The guards locked him up quickly after checking on him one last time.

The maximum security prison is totally different from a normal one. It's worse. Because everyone is sworn to confidentiality, no word really gets out on what's happening behind its high walls.

Prisoners in this place are like expendable pawns. The government uses them however they wish, and unsurprisingly, companies too. They have illegal control over some of the prisoners, depending on how much they paid the government for it.

Someone wants König dead, and you're not even surprised that he was already tried to be disposed of first day in. It could be a private company he used to work for, or maybe enemy, it could also be done for personal reasons. Signing up for a job here means you should expect those types of things, that's why you made sure to be adequately prepared over events like this happening during your shift.

If he was a normal person, you would've felt bad for the prejudice you have over him, but he's a convicted murderer– a serial killer at this point, so you believe that he doesn't deserve the benefit of doubt.

"A killer won't get my sympathy. That will be the last thing I'll ever do in this earth," You've uttered, anger never leaving your eyes as you sat still in your place.

∆ . 11:59:31PM of that day, staff dormitory.

With a gasp, you wake up from a shallow sleep, catching your breath as you try to recover from the nightmare you just had.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed repeatedly, frustration and distraught are clearly heard in your voice.

Fortunately, you're the only one in your room, not a shared dorm or anything, or else your hypothetical roommate would've pegged you for a madman.

Why would it be about that now of all days? You said at the back of your mind, frustrated over the dream you just had.

Desperately, you tried to swallow that thought, along with the nightmare. Fortunately, before the memory gets too vivid, the alarm on your wristwatch goes off which pulled you out of the world you’re sucked in.

It's the alarm you set the first time you got it, 12:00AM. Midnight on the dot.

You sat down, trying to calm yourself.

Ah, right, your next shift is at 12:45AM which is just 45 minutes from now. With Vanessa gone, and Jane temporarily dismissed to rest, you had to take the extra shift and give up a few hours of your precious sleep.

That reminds you, have you checked up on König as you were supposed to? Even if you hate him, you still have to do your job.

Shit, now you got to fill his report before anyone even notice or ask for it.

Reluctantly, you got out of your bed and prepared to check in early for your shift, planning to stealthily take the prisoner's record to fill it up, hopefully while no one's around to harshly criticize your tardiness on your first day.

— &

You made it to 1245 cell without any road bumps, luckily. Now all that's left is actually checking up on König which you can just frown about. Before sticking the key in the hole, you took a deep breath and tried to at least look neutral—your working face.

Counting from 1 to 5 quietly at the back of your mind, you collected yourself at 3, steeled yourself at 4, and finally, pushed the iron door open at 5 without giving yourself enough time to hesitate and get cold feet.

This prison gives each prisoner a spacious place to live in almost comfort, with only one person per room. At least that's how they do it in this part of Austria. There are quite a lot of cells after all, so they're not shy on using all of them.

"I'm your nurse, I will be checking up on you so please, sit down." You said with a firm tone, putting the bag on the bedside table where all of the essentials for vital checking should be packed.

Each nurse on duty is required to use the same bag, for both safety, and precaution.

"Ärgerlich schädling," he muttered under his unusual breathy voice which set an alarm in you.

Now that you look at it, the back of his shirt is wet, and he's panting a little. Did you really mess up big time on your first day? Shit, now you have to fix this somehow.

"Prisoner 190228," you read the number assigned to him, printed on the sheet of paper you're holding one-handedly, "I said sit down. I can't check on you properly if you're positioned that way."

It was pathetic really. Your nerves are getting the best of you, and it's hinted on your voice.

“Will nicht,” he grumbled, unmoving and unbothered.

You never really stayed in Austria that long in the past. Only a year or two to finish the last 2 years of your nursing school but your university didn’t require you to speak German so you didn’t bother getting that deep into learning the language. You’re an entry-level speaker at best, but since it’s been years already, you’ve lost that ability and can only guess what he’s saying.

“You will, now hurry up and sit down so we can get this over with.”

“Ich sagte nein, verliere dich.”

“Yes, you will. And please, I would really appreciate it if you speak in English.”

You heard his tongue clicked at that, “Warum sollten sie überhaupt eine Ausländerin einstellen? Ich bin es verdammt leid, diese verdammte sprache zu sprechen!” He groaned, almost sounding like a teenager throwing a tantrum at his bed.

He sat down on his bed after that outburst, you don’t even need to peek under that mask of his to know he’s frowning in annoyance, his eyes alone says it all.

“Awfully late to check up on me now, yeah?” He asked, begrudgingly you think, but you decided not to give attention to it.

“Did the syringe grazed you? Was it injected on you? Or did it find other ways to get into your veins?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“It did not.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am fine, so get lost.” He snapped again, his voice starting to sound like his catching his breath again.

You thought he was grinding his teeth the whole conversation, and now it made sense. He’s holding something back, and it’s probably the pain from the poison, his tone only adds up as an evidence to that.

“You are not. You’re breathless, sweating, and,” your eyes looked all over him, trying to observe his posture, to find proofs to support your claim, “…You’re sweating buckets, and shaking.”

You bit your lips, an attempt to maintain your composure as you try to find a solution.

“I need to see your face, take that mask off,” without a warning, you reached for the edge of his mask— something that you later regretted doing so.

In an instant, he has put you under him, his gloved, big hand is wrapped around your neck while the other one is gripping your wrist that was once the closest to his mask earlier.

He’s fuming in anger, the heat coming off him is immense as if he’s a steam machine. Bodies wouldn’t act normally like this against poison, not this much heat while keeping a great vigor. His body feels so different… something you’ve never seen before.

“Touch my mask once more,” He seethed through gritted teeth, anger evident in his unblinking eyes, “Then I will have to devour you.” He threatened, his hot breath and heavy body touching your skin, “Stubborn maus. Get your ass out of here before it’s too late. I won’t take responsibility for your insanity.”

This marks the end of this chapter.

[A/N: Thank you for reading this far! I'm open to gentle criticisms because my heart can't handle harsh words hsdahfw. I'll try my best to take them positively though! Notice that there are timestamps (like ∆ . and — & with the former being a longer time skip, and the latter a matter of a few minutes difference from the latest indicated time), and locations during an event. I placed them there so there would be less confusion regarding the timeline and when a particular event happened:) I added translations in the last part to keep it realistic too. Like, you're meant to not understand him much whenever he speaks German so yeah. Still, if you're curious what they translate to, the translations will be just down this note. That's all, thank you again! (´｡ • ᵕ •｡ `) ♡]

CHAPTER 01 TRANSLATIONS:

[1]: Ärgerlich schädling, Annoying pest

[2]: Will nicht, [I] don’t want

[3]: Ich sagte nein, verliere dich, I said no, get lost

[4]: Warum sollten sie überhaupt eine Ausländerin einstellen? Ich bin es verdammt leid, diese verdammte sprache zu sprechen, Why should they hire a fucking foreigner at all? I’m fucking tired of speaking that damn language

[5]: Maus, Mouse

#yandere konig #monster fucker #fanfic #prisoner konig #nurse reader #female reader #monster!konig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #cod #konig

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cauliflowertree · 2 years

Text

tom riddle—the man who fell from earth.

summary: tom riddle’s love language is literature.

word count: 1.4k

fanfiction no. 001

hey! this is my first fanfic on this blog so reblogs are really appreciated but also just any interaction :D

tom riddle? don’t waste your time, they’d tell you. heartless, merciless and unsettling in his every appearance, the very air around him seemed heavy and polluted. his superiority radiated from him—it was his very aura—piercing those who dared to meet his eye and challenging them to rethink their own inferiority, knowing they could not. he held himself so confidently, and his confidence was not misplaced.

his presence was always known, though he was often sly and discreet himself, but it was hard to ignore the shift in atmosphere when he was nearby.

but you tried harder still, to become lost within your world of fiction, and force the world around you to dissipate. with the right book, this was not a difficult task by any means, and only in the most raucous or unrelenting circumstances could you be lifted from your reverie.

“y/n!” your friend hissed louder than before, looking awkwardly and apologetically between you and tom riddle.

“what is it?” you asked impatiently, shaking their hand off your shoulder.

“it’s nothing,” another voice responded, causing you to look up to where tom riddle was looming above you with a faint smirk on his face.

gulping down your embarrassment, you took a shaky breath in, “am i in your seat?” you asked him, knowing the answer he would give you.

“yes,” he replied, walking around the table as he pulled his blazer sleeves down to his wrists, “but you can have it today,” he added, sitting down opposite you and your friend.

professor slughorn was not far behind mr. riddle, and addressed the class almost immediately, leaving you silent before the heartless boy, left to wonder what made him give up his seat to you.

such a tedious textbook and yet your face was buried in it for the better part of your potions lesson, avoiding the eyes that crept above the book’s spine. they were hard as stone, but with the right light, small, soft crevices appeared within them—it was as if you were catching a glimpse of the soft underbelly.

mere days had passed until you and tom met again. this time, you were alone. caught in a rainstorm, you waited under the cover of stone in the edges of the courtyard, watching students stumble over the wet cobblestone frantically. you held your bag tightly to your chest and watched the heavens above you unleash.

as you leant further over to see past the roof, searching for blue skies, your balance became increasingly unsteady. in an attempt to save your bag and books falling to the soaked ground to be ruined, you tried to regain composure without spreading your arms. as you became resigned to your fate, sure you would feel the hard ground collide with either your bottom or knees, a tight grip secured around your waist.

saving you from one embarrassment, you faced another humiliation upon turning around to view your rescuer—tom riddle. he’d appeared out of nowhere and his hair was not wet, but perfectly dry, as was his uniform.

“what were you doing?” asked tom, cocking an eyebrow in disappointment.

“looking for blue sky,” you told the truth.

he scoffed in disbelief.

tom sat with you a while, waiting for the rain to stop. he wasn’t much of a talker, he rather communicated with his eyes and his expressions, which were often hard to read or understand. but he listened to you talk without interruption, and answered the few questions you shot his way.

“madame bovary?” tom’s eyes flicked to your bag which was falling open on the bench between you.

“yeah, have you read it?”

“once. i wasn’t keen.”

“why not?”

“i understand that the author’s ending was to further drive his narrative, but to me, he made her weak,” tom admitted.

“weak? i don’t think weak is the right word,” you shook your head in disagreement. “i think she was yearning,” you contradicted him.

“yearning?” his chuckle was hollow, disbelieving, “what for?”

“an escape. her whole life she felt trapped and overlooked.”

“and that is how you’d choose to find it? an escape.”

you were taken aback by his forward question, for you were discussing madame bovary, not yourself. “well, no.”

tom simply nodded as if to conclude that he was right, and though you had further thoughts swirling in your brain, you dare not speak them out loud. instead, you changed the subject again and carried on much the same as before—you talking, tom listening.

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

as the days turned into a week gone by, tom had made very few appearances. however, each time you saw him, you could not forget the exchange, and found yourself reliving it in your mind several times a day. everyone’s unsolicited advice had disintegrated and fell on deaf ears, for you no longer cared for advice unless it was from desired lips.

“what are you thinking about?” asked tom, approaching your table at the library.

“potions,” you fibbed, watching him adjust his shirt sleeves as he sat beside you.

“that’s your astronomy text book,” he replied matter-of-factly.

you looked down at the table where your textbook was wide open, showing several images of constellations with detailed captions. you scoffed, avoiding his eye, thus missing the small smirk that stretched in the corner of his mouth.

“i have something for you.”

“you do?” you asked, and it seemed your heart was responding too.

tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a book with a neatly decorated cover and handed it over to you. keeping your eyes fixed to his, you accepted his gift with a polite but giddy smile.

‘jane eyre’

“i’ve been meaning to read this for a while,” you confessed, tracing your fingertips over the illustration on the cover. “thank you.”

“do tell me your thoughts when you’re finished,” said tom before getting up to leave.

so abrupt. it was as if he was almost embarrassed to have you know he was thinking of you, or at least he had been. you flicked through the pages and breathed in that familiar aroma of a fresh book and began at the beginning.

for such a detail heavy and long novel, you devoured each chapter within minutes. staying up late to finish just another page and reading within every spare second of your day became the norm until you had consumed the last word of the gifted book.

you clasped the book against your chest tightly, skipping down the halls of hogwarts as you looked for tom. you’d talked him rarely over time you were reading ‘jane eyre’ but you had seen him often. and always he saw you, carrying that book around as if it was your lifeline, your blood supply.

“i finished,” you informed him triumphantly, sitting down on the library bench next to him.

“and what did you think?” he questioned with a satisfied grin, closing his textbook gently and straightening his back.

“i think,” you began, “i understand why you like it better than ‘madame bovary’.”

“but what did you think about it?” he asked again, not much inclined to listen to his own thoughts through your words.

“i thought it was incredible. jane seemed…”

“yes?”

“like someone who would understand.”

tom relaxed, unaware he had been leaning forward and hanging onto your every word. he agreed with you, of course. he thought he might agree with everything you said. but he didn’t know how to tell you.

“can i give you another?” he asked. strange, for he did not often find himself asking for permission.

“i’d like that,” you accepted, inching your hand closer to his on the bench.

tom didn’t notice at first, nodding in approval and beginning to think of the next title he would give you. he always seemed lost in thought, like he was analysing both you and the situation you were in. what did he think of you? you wondered.

you slid your pinky between his little finger and ring finger and watched tom clench his jaw. his entire body tensed from the small interaction, the small and simple touch. and for a moment, he let himself forget about books and propriety, swiftly cupping your face in his cold hands and pressing a reckless kiss to your lips. he had to be quick, he feared he wouldn’t be able to do it if he wasn’t fast enough.

“you should read ‘sense and sensibility’ next,” he whispered lowly, “i have a copy.”

though your heart was leaping bounds and your breath was trembling, you managed a small response—“i’d love to borrow it.”

tom pulled away and collected himself, reopening his textbook, which you noted was astronomy, and said, “it’s yours.”

alright, hope you enjoyed that ! i don’t have a tag list but let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :D

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle fic #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #tom riddle oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic

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pinguwrites · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 | Day Sixteen — William Killick + face riding

Pairing -> william killick x wife!reader

Warnings -> kinda dom kinda sub!william, mention of overstimulation, oral sex, the whole reason I did this one was bc I was chatting to my william bot and he was like "sit on my face" and I was like 🥵

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

“Ride my face,” William demanded. He lay down on the bed, his pale eyes gazing into your own with unbridled lust. “C’mon, I want to taste it.”

You covered your body in response, even though you were already naked. For some reason, his words made you feel nervous and shy. He always made you feel like that. It was like the moment you got used to his passionate nature he pulled something new out of thin air, leaving you with nothing but stuttering words and a flustered face.

“William,” you said hesitantly. “What if I smother you?”

He laughed and beckoned you closer. “Then I’ll die the happiest man in the world.”

Your face fell and you swatted away his hand. “I’m serious, I don’t want to suffocate you.”

William laughed, almost a giggle. “You won’t. If I was actually dying you don’t think I could stop you?”

“But it would be embarrassing—”

“Why?” William asked, his eyebrows narrowed a little. “You think it’s embarrassing when your husband pleasures you?”

You averted your eyes. “N-no. I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then ride my face.” William laid back down on the bed, his lips parted, his hands stretched out to grab your hips. “Sit, darling. You’ll like it, I promise.”

You nodded your head and hovered your pussy over his face. You hesitated before lowering yourself, until you could feel his lips brush your clit and you backed out. You really were scared of hurting him. You didn’t want to make this awkward if this didn’t turn out well, but when William noticed you hadn’t settled yourself on him, he pulled your hips down and shoved your pussy in his face.

You let out a surprised gasp as he ravished you, sucking on your clit, shoving his tongue inside your pussy, all with the most heavenly muffled groans.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips a little. “Sorry!” you quickly apologized, but William was having none of it, and started swaying your hips back and forth, encouraging you to continue.

Once you realized this wasn’t hurting him, you started grinding, rubbing your sensitive body on his lips. “Oh,” you moaned, your eyes glazed over. “Mmm, William.”

You looked down, wanting to see his face. He looked beautiful like this, focused in concentration, jaw moving with precision. He noticed you looking and looked back up at you, his eyes filled with love.

“Y-you’re so pretty,” you praised. “I love you.”

He let out another groan at that, repaying your words by continuing his task.

Eventually he made you orgasm. He swallowed up your cum without any complaint, keeping your hips firmly in place until he finished. For a moment, you were worried he was going to overstimulate you, but he didn’t, and released his grip.

You got off of him and wiped his face with a nearby towel. “Are you okay?”

William nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Thank you for letting me do that. I'm gonna ask for it again, you know?”

You chuckled. “I know.”

He kissed your lips softly, cuddling next to you in bed. “And . . . I love you, too.”

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@henrywintersdearestgirl

#william killick x y/n #william killick x you #william killick x reader #the edge of love #cillian murphy #pinguwrites #fanfiction #william killick #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

Text

My Little Shadow (Azriel X Reader)

Warnings: Toxic abusive family, arranged marriage, entitled males

This is my first fanfiction! I hope you all enjoy this fic about Azriel rescuing Y/N from their new "fiancée"

Edit! Part two out now here: Part two

I walked through the crowds, struggling not to spill my full glass of faerie wine as I forced my way through the crowd.

This was not how I had wanted my night to go.

After a huge blow out with my family, I had made a quick escape. My father was an angry man, and a powerful one. With a standing right below Keir in the hierarchy, and knowing that if Keir made even one false move, my father would step through the bloody mess and take his place.

As long as he continued to hold his current standing of course.

And that required status. He had come home talking about a great opportunity for the family, which of course meant him.

Draven had asked for my hand in marriage. Most likely because the male couldn’t find a family that would release their daughter to him, considering his horrible reputation in the way he treated women.

And that was saying a lot considering this was Hewn City.

I had completely refused, which was unheard of in our family.

I was the perfect daughter. The one who calmed him when he went into an abusive rage and looked for one of my sisters to take it out on.

So when I said no, he laughed it off, saying, “That was my first reaction too, but then you should have heard what he was offering! I never thought you’d fetch such a high price girl.”

I had been so angry, felt so helpless- It was the first time I had ever told him what I had thought of him.

Everyone had been so stunned that I had enough time to rush out the door before the bellowing started. I had made a beeline for this party, knowing my father would rather choke on his own blood before making a scene in such a public place.

Especially when the high lord was visiting tonight, his high lady was right up there with him.

Maybe I could approach the throne, plead to be set free of this damned city. But I knew better.

The citizens of Hewn City stayed in Hewn City.

Except for the beautiful Morrigan. Sometimes I was inspired by the female who had escaped the cruelty of this nightmare. But sometimes there was a spark of envy, knowing I would never have that same freedom.

“Hello, pretty thing.” The slimy voice of Draven came from behind me.

I jerked forward, spilling my wine on some dancer in the crowd. They yelped in angry surprise, but I didn’t get a chance to apologize as Draven dragged me backwards, spinning me around.

“Your father told me all about your little outburst, are you really that hot and bothered over me?” He asked, his breath reeking of alcohol.

I went to shove him away, but he only gripped me tighter.

“Let go of me Draven.” I hissed, fear rising as I realized that there was no one looking over, not one of the party goers noticed the scene unfurling in this corner.

Not like anyone would intervene anyway.

He chuckled. “I don’t think so sweetheart.” He said, his grip tightening to the point it was painful, and I forced myself not to react, but only to stare him down.

He didn’t like that.

He let go with one hand and raised it, and I instinctively flinched away. But the hit never came.

I looked up to see some sort of darkness wrapping around his wrist, keeping him from delivering that blow.

His look of rage and confusion melted into one of slight terror as a silky smooth voice spoke. “What’s going on over here?”

My head whipped around, and I strained my neck upwards to see one of the armor clad males hovering over me, the Shadowsinger who was glaring at Draven with sharp hazel eyes.

My throat closed up, not knowing how to explain the situation in a way that Dravon couldn’t twist it.

“I was having a discussion with my fiancé.” He said, calmly, his smirk back, pretending not to have a care in the world.

But I could tell he was enraged from the bruising grip he had on my hand.

The shadowsinger ignored Draven, looking at me for answers.

I shifted uncomfortably, speaking softly, “I was just enjoying the party when this male approached me. I have no clue what he’s talking about.”

Draven started to protest, but from one look from the shadowsinger, and he let go of my wrist, rushing off to some nasty corner of this place.

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my shoulders slump as I calmed myself.

“What’s your name?”

I jumped, having forgotten the shadowsinger was still there.

“I- uh- My name’s Y/N.” I said, hoping he didn’t realize who my father was.

He nodded. “I’m Azriel. Are you alright?” He asked, staring pointedly at my wrist, which I had started to rub soothingly without realizing it.

I stopped, trying not to make eye contact with him. “I’m fine, thank you.” I said, my common sense returning as I lowered my head, fully the demure female. This male was more powerful than even my father, if he decided to take over where Draven had left off, no one would be coming to save me.

“I should be heading home. My father is expecting me.” I said, turning and rushing away before he could speak again.

As I got farther into the halls and away from the party, I became more and more sure no one was following me.

I knew I would have to face my father eventually, but for now, I settled on resting against the wall, dipping my hand into the shadows I loved so dearly.

I couldn’t help but smirk as they crawled up my arm lovingly, curling around me, sensing my negative emotions.

Azriel wasn’t the only Shadowsinger in the night court, and it may just be the key to my escape.

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rdr2stories · 13 days

Text

"The Coyote And The Wolf" a Jovier fanfiction.

A 6000 word fanfiction about John and Javier through the games.

"No hurt that Javier experienced from losing a meaningless necklace could replace the hurt John had felt losing his brother."

The small chips of wood laid by John’s feet as he carefully carved out the form of a coyote’s tooth in the small wood lump that he had found laying around the camp. It was a gift he was making for the new kid, or man as he was, the Mexican one. John didn’t know if he liked coyotes but the animal reminded him of the man, he didn’t really know much about him at all, he didn’t speak English and John didn’t speak Spanish.

To be honest he didn’t really care that the two of them didn’t speak the same language because the man could drink, smoke and listen to John venting about Abigail without interrupting, so that is what they did, last time a bit too hard.

They had been at a local town’s saloon, just the two of them, when some big guy had needed someone to shout at and thought of Javier as an easy target. Javier had obviously not understood what the man said, which annoyed the man even more and, in the end, led to a fight, a quite violent one that earned Javier a nasty wound down his cheek, it was sure to leave a scar.

John had to admit that he blamed himself for it, he was the one who had asked Javier to go out full knowing that people tended to pick on him more easily than John, it had been a selfish request. He didn’t know if Javier blamed him as well, he couldn’t tell from the man’s indifferent face, and he couldn’t verbally say sorry either, so from that came the little wood carving that matched the one he had made himself a few hours earlier. His was a wolf’s tooth and together the two carvings were a peace offering.

When he had told Mary Beth his idea she had giggled, saying it reminded her of the friendship bracelets she had made her and Tilly.

Friendship bracelets as if John and Javier weren’t outlaws with more money on their heads than in their pockets, at least in his own case, he didn’t fully know about Javier, he hadn’t said what he had done but surely it had to be something big since he fled his entire country. John couldn’t imagine what he had done that had led him to just grab a bag and run to a country where he in every sense was worse off.

John held the two wooden carvings up. Javier’s was a bit smaller simply due to the fact that the real thing was as well, he hoped that Javier would understand that and not see it as something else. God, it was hard having a friend you couldn’t verbally communicate with.

“Whatever,” John mumbled as he used the tip of his knife to carve out a hole in the blunt end of the teeth and put a thin leather string through each of them, tying them into two necklaces that he stuffed in his pocket for now.

He got up from the stump he had sat on, cracked his back, and brushed the worst wood dust off his pants before making his way back to camp. He found Javier sitting in the middle of the camp, his back against a crate and a cigarette between his lips as he cleaned his gun with a cloth, not even looking up at John as he approached.

“Hey, Javier,” John spoke, finally gaining Javier’s attention and making him look up, showing John the not-so-prettily healing wound on his cheek.

“¿Cómo?” Javier replied unbothered as he removed his cigarette to blow out a cloud of smoke.

“Brother I got no idea what you are saying, just come on,” John replied as he gave Javier a small kick, earning a grunt and a glare but Javier complied, putting his gun back in its holster and getting to his feet before throwing the cigarette on the ground. “Come on.” John began to lead Javier away from the camp, promptly followed by Abigail’s complaining.

“Don’t you dare go too far!” Abigail shouted and John let out a grunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” he merely mumbled, feeling the annoyance of being trapped creep up on him. He was never allowed to leave camp those days for any longer than a mere couple of honors, it seemed that everyone thought just because Abigail was pregnant that John didn’t know how to take care of himself any longer. “Hey, we ain’t going that far,” John spoke as he saw Javier near Boaz.

Javier frowned slightly, unable to understand.

“No,” John spoke as he pointed towards the tied-up horses. “No horses.”

Javier looked between Boaz and John for a second before nodding understandingly and returning to John.

“Alright, come on, we are just going up to the trees,” John said, giving Javier a clap on his shoulder before continuing up to the tree line of the woods surrounding their camp. He didn't know why he felt like he needed to hide their little exchange, he wasn’t ashamed of his friendship with Javier nor was he ashamed of his carvings.

When they finally were out of sight from camp, John halted, Javier following as he let out a small chuckle.

“¿Qué? ¿Vas a besarme o algo?” Javier spoke in a sarcastic voice, obviously making a joke that John did not understand.

John sighed slightly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the necklaces. “I made these, as an apology.” He held the coyote tooth out for Javier who just looked cautiously between it and John.

“Yours,” John shoved it into Javier’s hands, making it clear that it was a present. “Apology,” he repeated in slight annoyance as he gestured at the wound. “Sorry, peace offering.”

Javier chuckled slightly as he looked at the carving. “Eso es bastante dulce.” He looked up at John, grinning, and gave him a small punch to the shoulder. “En este punto podría pedirte que me besaras.”

John smiled slightly. “You know, I got no idea what you are saying but you seem happy so I guess it is good enough.”

—

John’s fidgeted with the wooden carving hanging around his neck as he spaced out. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour and his chest was aching with anxiety. He didn’t know if he could get himself to do what he had planned, but then again he also knew that he couldn’t stay. His cheek had a permanent red mark just as his ass had for sitting still too long. He was allowed to do nothing, he wasn’t allowed to hunt, not that he was any good at it, he wasn’t allowed to go fishing with Javier, not that he was any good at that either, nor was he allowed to go drink, even though he was quite good at that. He wasn’t allowed any excuse to leave the camp.

He hadn’t been allowed to leave for weeks and taking his frustrations out on the firewood only helped him so much. He needed freedom, he needed to spread his wings and run, so he was going to, but this time he wasn’t just going to run into town, no he was going much further, far far away.

He did feel a little bad for Abigail, but it was her who had insisted on keeping him locked up in camp anyways! Her and Hosea, but he didn’t blame Hosea as much because at least he allowed Javier to sneak booze in for him, booze that Abigail said was a “bad influence” on him.

Javier had always been John’s savior, always been the one to sneak in drinks, smokes or whatever else Abigail had restricted him from. He didn’t want to leave Javier but he couldn’t bring him either, he had thought about it but decided against it. It would be unfair to Javier who was just starting to fit into the gang.

But John knew that Javier would be fine, Javier had made friends around camp, most surprisingly Bill Williamson, when he was sober that was. They worked quite well together, which partly had also been because Javier could put Bill in his place. John wondered if Bill actually liked being brought to his knees by Javier.

The night that John left, he briefly considered waking Javier up to say goodbye but he knew he couldn’t. He knew that he had to leave silently, he hoped that the letter he had stuffed in Javier’s boot would provide enough of an explanation both as to why John ran but also why Javier should keep silent about where John was first headed.

It was a little strange to John, when he had first made the teeth that both the men kept close to them, Javier hadn’t even spoken English, let alone been able to read it, now he read far better than both John and Arthur.

Hosea had been the one reaching Javier and he had learned quickly, picking up any book he could find and following Hosea around camp for hours just in case he found a word he didn’t know.

John didn’t think that Javier had started learning to read English because he liked to read, he had actually seemed like he had hated it, but the constant reminder that his inability to read it had made him less in some people’s eyes had driven him to do it. Now he never read in camp, but sometimes John would see Javier go off to fish with a romance book tugged in his bag.

The memory of what he was leaving behind suddenly made the wooden tooth heavy around John’s neck.

—

“What is this?” The girl in his arms asked as she played with the wooden tooth hanging around his neck, a flirty smile on her face. “A wolf tooth~? For such a big strong man like yourself, it seems quite fitting~”

John grunted, he didn’t feel big or strong. It had been a year since he had run off like a coward and he hadn’t taken the tooth off for a moment. He had kept it both because he liked it, but also because he knew that he was hurting himself with it and he felt like he deserved it. He could feel the shame of leaving Javier behind weighing heavy on him.

“Yeah,” John replied as he took it from her hand and held it up, feeling her fingers tangle themselves into his hair. She wasn’t the first working girl to ask about it, but she was the first that he felt inclined to tell the truth about it to. It didn’t mean that he liked her better than the others, it was simply because he missed Javier. “I made a coyote’s tooth for my friend as well.”

The girl giggled, her free hand roaming his chest. “What? Like a friendship bracelet?”

John shook his head. Back in camp, he used to be so angry when people said that, but not anymore because in a way it did feel like a friendship bracelet, not that he was going to say that out loud. “More in the way we are personality-wise. Black wolves are aggressive, stubborn, impatient, and short-tempered, but coyotes? They are intelligent, independent, cunning when needed, but always reliant.”

“Is that so?” The girl asked as he got up from the bed in the room they had rented above the saloon. She probably knew to stop there, there was a high chance she had heard a lot of similar stories and knew they didn’t end well.

“Hm,” John merely replied, letting out a sigh.

He felt like a jerk, fuck.

—

John had practically made best friends with the newspaper boy by the street corner who probably thought of him as a weirdo for always being the first person to buy the new edition and to specially request as many newspapers from other areas as the boy could get his hands on. It wasn’t a lot.

Every day John would read over the newspapers, searching for anything that even smelled like Dutch Van Der Linde, which was often a sweet soap that seemed weirdly out of nothing just like his crimes.

It had taken him weeks to finally find something, though it smelled more like Arthur Morgan than Dutch Van Der Linde, but it was close enough.

John packed his horse with his tent and the supplies that he had either paid for in blood money or bounty money and sat off.

Up and down mountains, across rivers and avoiding the law in a town where he and Arthur had royally fucked up some years back, he moved along, but when he was suddenly ambushed by what he was sure was an O’Driscoll, he knew he was close. Whether it was intentional or not, Dutch was always close to Colm and his gang.

John went to the nearby town, found the saloon, and went to the bartender, for once in his life glad that the gang didn’t know that drinking could go quietly. With Arthur’s go-happy drunken self, Bill’s “I will kill anyone nearing me” drunken glare and Javier’s eternal drunk teasing, the gang never went unnoticed and the bartender most certainly remembered them even though it had already been a week since he had seen them. The group had come in, gotten drunk, and while half were dancing can can the others were fighting each other. If that wasn’t the Van Der Linde gang, he was about to find a bunch of double gangers.

John got the direction that the group had headed to of the bartender with the promise that he would tell them to come back and pay for a window broken by a guy who fitted Bill’s description.

John searched the nearby area of the direction that the bartender had pointed him to and found the remains of a camp, the littered metal cans, the outlines of tents, the rest of a camp fire and tracks on the ground. Suddenly he was glad that it had rained recently, though he had hated it in the moment because he had been freezing, but now it not only gave him the knowledge that they had left within the last couple of days, but it also gave him the knowledge of where they were going.

John followed the tracks down a dirt path to a bigger dirt road, trying to keep an eye on which tracks were the Van Der Linde and which were just other travelers.

A couple of hours into his search, he suddenly stopped, narrowing his eyes at a smaller path breaking off. He had a strange feeling to follow it. It would be risky, it truly would be, especially because he would not be able to identify the Van Der Linde tracks again but also because there were no wagon tracks leading up that path, just hoof prints.

Yet he did it, he let his eyes leave the tracks and nudged his horse forward into a trot up the road. He already regretted it, fuck he regretted it. His gut feeling had never been worth anything, but he couldn’t turn back now.

The turns that John took led him into more open fields, something that the gang would never like, yet he knew that something was waiting for him. He damn hoped that it was good.

Just as he reached up to fidget with the carving around his neck, something he found himself doing a lot when anxious, he saw something.

By a small river further away stood a person humming to themselves as they threw the fishing line out into the water. John did not need to get any closer to know who owned the silly hat on that person’s head. Javier Escuella.

John kicked his horse in the side a bit harder than he had intended to and sat into a gallop, sliding to a stop just as Javier turned to point a gun at him.

Javier’s eyes widened as he saw John upon his horse, heavy in breath, his eyes holding both relief but also pure terror.

“John?” Javier asked as he lowered his gun. “I thought you was dead!”

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easily,” John replied, noticing that Javier still carried the coyote’s tooth around his neck on the outside of his jacket. Oh what a sweet relief, if he still carried it maybe he didn’t hate John, or maybe he just used it as a reminder not to trust people, just as John had carried his as a reminder of what he had left behind.

His stomach curled anxiously.

“Well get down from there!” Javier spoke with a wide smile, embracing John in a hug as soon as he swung himself off his horse. “I missed you like crazy compadre!”

“You aren’t mad at me?” John asked cautiously as Javier swung his arm around John’s shoulders and led him down to the small camp he had made by the river.

“De ninguna manera!” Javier replied as he gestured for John to sit by the fire. “That lady of yours was going to kill you faster than a bullet if you had stayed, I would have run too.”

“I ain’t sure I got a lady no more,” John replied, watching Javier chuckle.

“Maybe that is a good thing. She doesn’t seem to have become much better, she is tired all the time. That kid of yours isn’t easy.”

“I ain’t sure it is my kid either.”

“Well they sure think it is yours.” Javier walked over to a small bag he had lying by the water, pulled a big fish out of it and put it over the fire.

“Yeah but is it mine?”

“Don’t matter,” Javier shrugged as he sat down next to John. “They think it is yours so for all that matters it is yours.”

“Sadly.” John grunted as he crossed his legs underneath him, his hand instinctively going to the wooden tooth as a moment of silence fell over them. He used to love those comfortable silences but right now when he didn’t fully know where he stood with Javier, he hated it.

“Are you coming back to camp?” Javier then asked as he took the fish off the fire, cutting it in half with his hunting knife and passing half to John.

“I want to,” John replied as he removed a bone from the fish. “But I don’t know if I can.”

“They are pretty mad at you,” Javier said as he picked some meat off the fish. “Arthur has been throwing your name around like it is a slur.”

John made a grimace, ouch that hurt, but it was also to be expected. It was first after he had left that he realized the parallels between him and Arthur and the differences in how they had handled an unexpected kid. If he was Arthur he would probably hate himself too, if he could give Abigail and Jack to that big loaf of muscle he would, Arthur would make a better father and husband than John ever could.

“I am not sure Dutch would let me back in, we got a policy for traitors,” John said as he picked at the fish, not really having an appetite.

“Dutch will be fine,” Javier replied, watching John before handing him a smoke to switch the fish for. “You is his family, he defines your name, at least to some degree.” He grinned slightly,

“Really?” John asked as he handed Javier his half of the fish and placed the smoke between his lips, lighting a match with the bottom of his shoe.

“Sí, when Arthur gets real mad he reminds him of all the good you did.”

John blew out a cloud of smoke and snorted. “Like what?”

“Dunno, didn’t listen,” Javier replied before reaching over to gently punch John’s shoulder. “Come back, I will protect you.”

John smiled slightly. “Like some long-lost maiden, huh?”

“Long lost at least,” Javier grinned teasingly. “Maiden perhaps not yet, but keep growing that hair and you might turn into one.”

“As if you don’t have long hair as well.” John had gotten long hair though, he hadn’t cut it for a time and the ponytail he had gathered it in wasn’t so small any longer. He didn’t doubt that Grimsaw would have him cut it at least to his shoulders if he returned.

“Manly long hair, unlike you princesa.”

“Hey!” John exclaimed jokingly. “I ain’t no princess.”

“Oh, you understand Spanish now?” Javier got to his feet with a smile on his face, throwing the remains of the fish into a nearby bush. “¿Quién diría que un hombre tan malo como tú podría aprender un idioma tan bueno?”

John let out a huff as he looked up at Javier. “I still don’t understand you.”

“Por supuesto.” Javier went over to the fire, kicking some dirt into it and snuffing it out with his boot. “Come on brother, let’s get you home.”

—

John guessed that he should have been happy he was let back into camp at all, but he wasn’t in camp much anyway, mostly because people didn’t really want him there. Surprisingly, he didn’t care that much. He had all the freedom in the world, so he and Javier were often the ones taking the missions that required leaving camp for longer times, not that Arthur was very happy about it, he kept openly saying that John was going to run off again.

For years it became nearly impossible to find John without Javier by his side, they could be counted as one by then. If Javier needed to fish, John joined, if John went into store to buy ammo, Javier joined, and although it was never their plan, they always ended up doing more than what they had left camp to do.

They could be riding on their way back from town and suddenly see a small house, and naturally as the curious people they were, they went to look at it. That either lead to them running away laughing as the owner shot at them them or them helping the owner. They knew better than to leave bodies around for no reason, but they would if it excused them being away for longer, after all they couldn’t go back to camp if the body was still hot, someone might be following them.

By 1899 the wooden teeth that had rested on the mens necks for years had gotten miscolored with use and were even detailed on the outlaws warrant descriptions. They found it hilarious.

—

John was bleeding on Javier’s shoulder, more specifically on Javier’s poncho, the poncho John had once seen a teen try to steal and lost his ability to walk over.

John leaned away from Javier, trying to keep his balance as Boaz trotted through the heavy snow, he didn’t want to get any more blood on the fabric than he already had.

“Lean on me idiota, you are gonna fall.” Javier reached behind him, pushing John’s stomach flush against his back and securing John’s around around his waist.

“I will bleed all over your poncho,” John mumbled. The cold was making him both dizzy and tired at the same time, yet the stabbing in his face kept him awake.

“It can be washed and I don’t think you will survive a fall from a horse right now,” Javier huffed in slight annoyance. “That wolf tooth is a little ironic now, huh?”

John snorted as he rested his uninjured cheek on Javier’s shoulder. “I got a taste of the real thing now, powerful stuff.”

“Like you, strong enough to survive this, as long as you stay on the horse,” Javier reached down, laying a hand on John’s around his waist as he felt the grasp loosen. “Don’t you pass out on me now brother.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” John mumbled before jerking wide awake as Javier pinched the skin on his hand. “Ow!”

“Stay awake!”

“Alright, alright, I am awake,” John said as he placed his chin on Javier’s shoulder, watching the path before them.

Arthur snorted as he followed behind them.

John being bedridden did not at all help his relationship with Abigail who was sitting by his side at every waking moment. It reminded him a lot of the time around Jack’s birth, except he didn’t have the opportunity to sneak out with Javier or even drink. All he could do was lay and either sleep or try to fall asleep and fail due to Abigail’s constant complaining and nagging about how he had reached a new low, as if he had chosen to almost get eaten alive by wolves.

Javier joined John when he could, which wasn’t that often, a lot needed to get done to keep them all alive and Javier was one of the few people still able to man a gun after Blackwater, but when he was around John didn’t mind his bedridden state as much. He did however dislike how Abigail was always present even when Javier was, they never had a single moment alone so Javier never had the chance to slip him some booze to dull the mental pain.

When they had reached Horseshoe Overlook, John had finally been allowed out of bed, he wasn’t allowed to do much, but at least he had been allowed to join Arthur and Bill for the search of some O’Driscolls with that Kieran guy Arthur had captured up in Colter. It wasn’t something big, but it was at least an excuse to get out of camp and away from Abigail’s yapping.

Those missions and the nights were his to enjoy, Abigail often went to bed early so that meant he could drink with Javier.

John had practically laughed when Javier had returned to camp one day from the local town Valentine with a nasty but superficial wound over his face. It seemed that him, Bill, Arthur, and Charles had gotten into a bar fight.

“Trying to imitate me?” John asked teasingly as Javier dumped himself down next to him by the fire, smearing some blood over his face as he tried to remove the dirt Bill’s horse Brown Jack had kicked up.

“I would go for a coyote if I was,” Javier snorted and let out a string of annoyed Spanish curses as the wound began to bleed again.

“Let me take care of that,” John said as he got to his feet and headed to his tent.

“No need.”

“I will do it anyways,” John spoke as he returned with some alcohol, some wipes and a small bandage. “I have gotten quite good at treating facial wounds.” He gestured at his own mauled face before sitting down on a crate by the fire. “Sit.”

“Ordering me around, are you now?” Javier asked but still complied and sat down on the ground in front of John, staying still as the other man grabbed his chin with one hand and slowly began to work on the wound.

John looked down at Javier and the wound right above the scar that was left from one of their first drinking trips. His heart fluttered slightly at the sight of the man looking up at him. Quickly, he looked away, working on the wound the same way he had worked on his own after getting tired of Abigail doing it for him.

He could see the wooden tooth hanging around Javier’s neck and for a moment he wondered. Friendship.

“There,” John said, his hand leaving Javier’s stubbled chin, his fingers already missing the warmth of the other man’s skin. “You will be okay.”

Javier let out an amused huff. “Thank you for saving my poor life.”

—

“Javier, can’t you see it?” John asked as they sat around the fire at Beaver Hollow, the first time in a long time where they were alone, the first time in a long time where they could talk.

“See what exactly?” Javier asked, his voice almost as desperate as John’s as he put down his guitar. He hadn’t played it in a long time but he still held it every now and then. The camp did feel empty without its music but the silence was preferable to the anger that no doubt would rise when the gang gathered around. “A string of bad luck? Why are you acting this way? Explain it to me.”

“Because of Dutch! He isn’t right in the mind. He left me Javier, left me!” John argued, the hand over his chest clenching the fabric of his shirt. “They was talking of hanging me! I was going to die!”

“He had a plan!” Javier argued back. “He was going to get you! Just like he got to me on Guarma! My leg was wounded, I was kicked, beaten, dragged over the ground by a mule! I was caged up but I knew Dutch wouldn’t leave me. You were stuck in prison, of course it was going to take some time to find a way to get you out.”

John let out a sorrowed sigh, his face falling. “You didn’t see it, you weren’t there when they arrested me. He had a chance to save me, he could have saved me, there was a moment… A moment where he could have done something, but he didn’t, he left.”

Javier shook his head. “John, I want to believe you, I do, you know I trust you… But I trust Dutch too, he has saved me several times.”

“He saved me too when I was a kid, I saw him as my father. Javier, this isn’t easy for me to say, I just don’t… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel safe, he has slipped. Have you heard him plan recently?”

“No, but I know that his plans normally work out. I don’t know how he can just change.”

John looked down at the ground, his hand going up to fidget with the necklace. “Neither do I.”

Javier placed a hand on John’s arm, making him look up at him, and gave him a small smile. “We will be okay, we just have to have some faith in Dutch. One last job and we are out of here to Tahiti or wherever he wants us to go.”

John’s heart ached, he wanted to believe that, he really did but he couldn’t. He knew they would never make it to Tahiti. No matter how bad it became between him and Dutch, he knew that he and Javier would be okay. “Yeah.”

—

Friendship, friendship, John didn’t know much about friendship but he knew that whatever the fuck this was was not friendship!

John’s eyes widened, his hand clenching around the wounded shoulder as he watched Javier stand on the other side of the camp, his gun drawn and eyes on the ground, his gun drawn at John and Arthur. His friend was drawing a gun on him when he was wounded?

Look at me! Look at me god damnit! John wanted to scream. He wanted to shout across the camp into the forest and down to Annesburg. Fuck the Pinkertons, fuck the Murfree Brood, fuck the law, he needed Javier to look him in the fucking eyes as he drew that gun at him,

Javier didn’t even have the guts to look John in the eyes or point the gun at him when he turned his back on John and sided with the man who had left John to die. Instead, he was pointing the gun at the sky and looking at the ground like the fucking coward he was, oh John hoped that Javier was looking right down his chest, he hoped that the man could see the symbol of their friendship hanging around his neck and he hoped that it choked him like a noose. How fucking dared Javier wear that when he went against everything it stood for?

Did their years of friendship mean nothing? Did everything they had gone through mean nothing? John did not know what Javier thought of him, but John knew that Javier was no friend of his.

—

The final brick had been laid on the new house and John took a moment to step back and look over the place he could now call home. It wasn’t much, yet, but Beechers Hope was slowly starting to look like a place he could bring Abigail and Jack back to, it just needed a little furnishing and it would be perfect.

It was also nice being back with some of the old gang members, Sadie, Charles, even Uncle. He never thought he would say he was glad being around Uncle, but he was, even though he had been less optimistic when he had run into him back in Blackwater.

He missed the old gang, the old times.

He reached up to where the wooden tooth had hung around his neck for years, clenching the fabric of his collar. He hadn’t worn the necklace since everything went down in Beaver’s Creek, yet the anxious fidget remained and he hated himself for it. Javier had betrayed him, he had chosen Dutch over him, had drawn a gun on him. He couldn’t forgive Javier no matter how much he missed the happy times they had had together.

—

Time had not been on Javier’s side, or maybe it was simply because all the ugly inside was finally starting to show outside. His hair stood out to every side underneath that god-forsaken hat that John had always hated but accepted as Javier’s culture. Now he wanted to shoot it right off.

“Hello old friend,” John spoke as he pointed the gun at Javier in the small storage room. It had been twelve years since he had seen that face and he could happily have gone twelve more. “It has been a long time.” Not long enough though, he only accepted the situation because of the whole Abigail thing and the fact that he might end it just like he had with Micah four years prior. He had been happy he killed Micah, and he would be happy killing Javier too. He had imagined it since he had watched Micah bleed in the snow. The image had made him happy… But at the same time… He couldn’t imagine killing his friend, he always had to remind himself that his Javier was already dead.

“Hello brother, it is uh, good to see you,” Javier said and John had to hold in a scuff, brother? Really? They hadn’t been that for twelve years. “I heard you was coming, took your time no? Come on you aren’t gonna shoot your own brother, are you? We was family.”

That was where Javier was wrong, John was going to shoot the moment Javier breathed in the wrong direction.

“Yeah, we were, then you and Dutch went crazy and then family didn’t mean so much.” His breath hitched in his throat as Javier chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Underneath Javier’s coat was a necklace, a wooden tooth, the coyote tooth that John had carved so many years ago for the both of them, the one that John had thrown in a bag and never looked at again but been unable to throw away. Javier still wore it. How fucking dare he, how dare he wear the symbol of their friendship with so much ease when he betrayed John just as easily?

Javier could rot in hell.

—

“Ah shit, I hope you are struggling with what you are doing brother,” Javier spoke as he lad over John’s shoulder, his speech slurred from the blood running to his head.

Was John meant to struggle? Yes, and John did struggle as much as Javier had struggled turning his back on him, not at all… At least that was what he told himself because the truth was he did struggle, that nagging feeling in the back of his head was telling him that he was killing his friend, but he just had to remind himself that his Javier was gone. This Javier over his shoulder was not the Javier whose chin he had held in his hand, the Javier who had hung out with him even when they didn’t speak the same language, the Javier who had sneaked booze to him, the Javier who had welcomed him back with open arms, the Javier he had loved. Deep inside he still struggled to accept that person was dead and this person thrown over his shoulder was the sorry excuse of a man who remained

“You sold me out, did the life we had mean nothing to you? OW! OW SHIT! You puto!” Javier cursed as John threw the man to the floor in the cell, letting out a snort. Javier could call him anything he wanted, any curse word, any slur, John was done with Javier and the mere fact he dared bring up their old life was insulting. Javier had been the one turning his back on John first to leave him in the mess Dutch had created, now Javier was just angry John had decided to put a knife in that back.

—

The agents stood by the car, waiting for John to hail Javier off the back of his horse.

“Mister Marston, fancy seeing you here,” one of them joked and how John wished to put a bullet in that man's head, he would have had it not been for Abigail and Jack. He didn't even speak as the men went on a long monolog about justice and truth, he didn’t care for it, the only thing he cared for was his family.

One of them grabbed onto Javier’s shoulder and before John knew what he was doing he told them to stop. “Hey, hold on a second.” For a moment he saw something in Javier’s eyes, hope maybe, affection? Something that didn’t matter, he would be hanging from a noose in not too long.

John reached underneath Javier’s jacket and grabbed the tooth, yanking it off Javier’s neck, not even caring to look or be bothered with the hurt in his eyes.

No hurt that Javier experienced from losing a meaningless necklace could replace the hurt John had felt losing his brother.

-------------------

I also appologize to Javier because I don't know spanish so his spanish has been reduced to DeepL. I actually dont know if this is too long for tumblr and if I should put it on ao3 instead but we will see.

#john marston #jovier #rdr john #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #abigail marston #abigail roberts #javier escuella #rdr2 javier #rdr2 john #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur

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friendly-stardust · 27 days

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If you had the chance to change something about the dance of the dragons (TV show or book), what would it be? For example, how a character dies, which team a house is on,or an entire character personally. How would you change it to make the story better, in your opinion?♥️🖤💙💚

Thanks for the ask anon and sorry that it took me this long to reply. This is a tricky one and this can be long.

House of the Dragon is a complete mess and a mediocrity of a show on every level, except for the acting. The writing is at an abysmal level, and I am convinced that it only got the interest and the rating it got thanks to the fact that it is under GoT's umbrella. And the fact that the showrunners/writers decided to be ungrateful and to insult the very show thanks to which their shitty fanfiction is even relevant, tells me everything I need to know about the arrogance and the ignorance existing behind this travesty of a show. The showrunners/writers seem to have completely misunderstood the themes of The Dance dealing mainly with class stratification, the corruptible nature of power, the consequences of blind ambition, and the pitfalls of unchecked privilege, reducing it all to a dumbed-down and pandering fanfiction in which tokenism, outdated and bigoted caricatures, and banal depiction of sexual assault are used casually as tropes, while pretending to write a 'feminist' or a 'progressive’ show. So, for House of the Dragon, EVERYTHING is to be changed.

Rhaenyra should have never been written as the main protagonist: From Episode one, we already have a failure in our hand with the writing as the showrunners decided to solely use Rhaenyra as our main protagonist in a show that is supposed to depict a severe and ineluctable succession crisis at the top of the Kingdom, resulting in the splintering and in the factionalism of the ruling family. Because, at the heart of this story, this IS the main thematic of the Dance - the civil war that will be tearing the ruling family at the head of the Realm apart and, consequently, the Realm itself apart (except for Dorne which was not yet part of the Seven Kingdom). We should have had different POVs to illustrate the deep divide that have been festering within the Targaryen clan itself and POVs from some of the closest families around them helping them rule. So, if it was me writing this, the POVs would have been: • Alicent - for the Hightowers POV, to see things through her lends and because of the important role she will have as a Queen in the future and as the head of one of the factions. • Rhaenyra - She will be the heir, one of the main claimants to the throne, and the head of the other main faction. • Daemon - self-explanatory. Playing his own partition/having his own ambition and need to be in power. • Corlys - to have a POV for the Velaryons and to highlight their side of the story and their narrative as a clan close to power. I would have made the Velaryons more politically savvy and Corlys primarily working with the sole perspective of preserving and consolidating the Velaryons' place of power/closeness to the Throne. As a whole, the Velaryons and Corlys' allegiance will clearly and only be for the Velaryon's name and clan. I would also use that POV to illustrate the Velaryons tinge of resentment towards Viserys and towards the dismissive way House Targaryen have treated them since Aemon's death. • Criston - POV of a lower-class man of Dornish descent getting into the heart of power and having to navigates its difficulties with his set of believes and morals, and how being in the middle of all this impacts his decisions and his ambition for the ascension of House Cole to a more prominent social status.

Using Season 1 as a set-up Season and not rush with catastrophic and mismanaged times skips: Season one should have really been a set-up season, taking the time to really put the foundations into place, while having enough belief in the story to give it the time needed to develop naturally. I believe that it is important to pose the base that the fracture in the clan Targaryen and with the Velaryons have been created since Aemon Targaryen's death which, according to me, is truly the start of this whole succession crisis. The Dance is just the poorly managed resultant of the whole process, seeping through several generations of resentment and hatred for one another. This will also completely negate all the stupid arguments I have seen online of 'if Viserys had married Laena, all this will not have happened'. This is because the show writers have failed the only-show fans who have no clues that the Velaryons have already threatened war during the whole Rhaenys vs Viserys ordeal. It would also emphasise the reason why it was important for Viserys to not shun the Velaryons and to keep a close alliance with them and would explain the reason why Vaemond became that adamant and not too keen on letting Rhaenyra's bastard usurp their ancestral throne. If only the Velaryons were taken seriously by the writers and not solely used as tokens and brownie points to prop-up Saint Rhaenyra?

Being aware of tokenism, bigotry and of anachronistic representations: This show seems to have been written by people who appear completely oblivious to how careful they should have been with how to manage negative stereotypes.

Avoiding Tokenism: From a standpoint of a Black woman like myself, the way the Velaryons were written was quite insulting. The showrunners/writers seem completely oblivious to how bad it looked to have the only House cast as Black being completely subservient, usurped and abused by their white-coded Targaryen counterparts, with no protest from most of them. The only one of them who protested – Vaemond - was villainised by the narrative and was made to say a misogynistic slur to justify his murder in open court. Murder which has no further consequence in the narrative. These showrunners/writers seem to not understand the racial implications that this casting choice creates in this world and seem completely ignorant to how to organically integrate that change into the narration and how to prevent stereotyping those race-swapped characters, so to not reduce the Velaryons to mere tokens. As a result, the writing made the Velaryons act like complete idiots devoid of any sense of pragmatism, strategic mindset, or political intellect, in a world that literally demands those characteristics of the people playing the game of throne. And the way Rhaenyra’s relationship to them was written also reeks of racist undertones. Overall, the way the Velaryons were written just demonstrates the ignorance and the shallowness we have behind this show and highlights the fact that the race-swapping was only made for aesthetic purposes and for some veneer of visual racial diversity.

And the best example to illustrate that vile treatments of the Velaryons is the way Laena and her daughters were written - not that Laenor or Corlys or Vaemond were spared either - but the treatment inflicted onto those female characters, now made WoC, represent better the showrunners/writer’s deep misogynoir, to which I am sure, they are completely oblivious. Laena's role and arc in the source material was completely butchered and diminished, by rewriting and reducing a feminine, beloved and desired (in her marriage to Daemon) woman - seduced and brazenly wanted by Daemon as his wife in F&B - into some teenager seducing the grown man Daemon, all while he only had eyes for the White girl Rhaenyra, actively feeding into the stereotypes about girls of colour growing up faster, having to be needy and desperate for men attention, and having to seek out male attention to be noticed. I mean, as if Laena was not beautiful enough for a man to notice her without her having to throw herself at him? But it doesn't stop there. They managed to erase her relationship with Rhaenyra, reducing it all to some repulsive scenario of pitting two women against each other for a man, the complete opposite of what happened in the source material, in addition of making Laena the ‘other woman’, the lesser desired one, and the unwanted wife, in her relationship with Daemon. And let not forget the trauma-porn inflicted on her WoC body in that violent and traumatic death, which is a complete bastardisation of an invented only-show concept of “a woman dying a dragon rider death” - whatever that means. Apparently, once Laena became mixed-race in the show, she became some thirsty, miserable, completely isolated woman, willing to go along with only being good enough as a second choice to her white husband, and dies violently by suicide instead of the beloved and cherished woman full of strength and humanity we have in her white woman depiction from F&B. The same abhorrent treatment was inflicted onto Baela and Rhaena, both written as some wallpapers and empty headed mute dolls with no layered personalities and no real wants of their owns, just willing to go along with anything, even to their own detriment (this includes Rhaenyra’s bastards sons taking precedent over them for Driftmark), as long as it favors and bolsters the causes and the ambition of Rhaenyra - the woman their father married just few weeks after their mother's funeral.

Avoiding Bigoted depictions:

a) Some of the tokenism arguments can also be applied to the showrunners/writers’ decision to depict Ser Criston Cole as a brown man of Dornish descent, which already comes with its own in-world racial undertones, while being very hell-bent on portraying his character as an emotional, thuggish, and resentment-driven character, who got his positions as hand-me-downs from two white women, instead of the intelligent, calculated man, always in control of his emotions, and above all, driven by ambition, and who got to the highest position of knighthood in Westeros by the merits of his own competence, as he was described as in his White-coded version in F&B. This illustrates once more the showrunners/writers’ incapability of understanding the tokenistic nature of their racial representation. Also, maybe unaware, and oblivious to their own bigotry on display in what they were implying here, the showrunners/writers went with the problematic trope of the savage, misogynist, and violent brown man for this character. And the fact that they decided to deliberately frame this brown man as some misogynist and vindictive man, unreasonable and unjustified in his anger towards his sexual predator when he is the victim of sexual assault in that “Rhaenyra’s sexual empowerment” episode, just disgusts me. As if his feelings and the shame he felt from the whole ordeal the next day, as a person, was to be dismissed or worst, mocked. The optics of the showrunners narratively dismissing his trauma while they have decided to change his race in the show, just highlights once more the racist undertone we have in the writing of some of the characters in this show. It also illustrates how out of touch the people behind this show are when it comes to representing power and racial dynamisms in a sensible way.

b) Larys Strong is the first disabled character we see on screen with his clubfoot and someone in the writing room though that it was a great idea to then transform him into some deviant sexual predator who gets off by fetishizing FEET. You cannot make this up! The showrunners/writers also butchered his character by making him the confirmed and sole murderer of his father and brother, when in the books, 3 other characters, Corlys, Viserys and Daemon, were also plausible culprits for that crime - but they are all Team Black so better whitewash them all and put it all on the disabled and only Team Green character that was also under suspicions for this murder. And all to see Alicent’s feet, ladies, and gentlemen! Instead of the enigmatic, calculated, and ambitious character we have depicted in F&B, the showrunners/writers made Larys Strong into some outdated caricature and despicable representation of a disabled character, embodiment of all of the devious and negative traits, by equating being disabled with being devious in morality and mentally. It is just a vile way to represent disabled characters, quite akin to the way they were viewed in medieval times as bearer of bad intentions/evilness, which also confirms the ableism and the hollow activism we have behind the scenes of this show.

Avoiding anachronistic representations:

a) Equating Alicent to a 'Woman for Trump' - a misogynist and reductive slur used within a very 21st century USA political discourse - while portraying a woman supposed to be within a setting mirroring medieval Europe, just shows the lack of culture, and of historical knowledge we have in this writers’ room.

b) Anachronistic girl boss characterisation: Rhaenys is written as a vessel to peddle nonsensical 21st century notions of White feminism, a hollow wannabe and anachronistic girl boss, spouting anachronistic speeches, while the show completely removed any agencies from most female characters, and took strong female characters from the original story and turned them into some victims of situations, none of their own doing of course, who constantly cry and are afraid of making any decisions, all while most of their negative traits are given to the male characters, absolute monsters and responsible for all woes that afflict the female characters. Also, Rhaenyra is whitewashed into some girl boss and some absurd notion of a ‘modern politician’ - modern in which historical period, no one knows – who spouts drivels like ‘when I am queen, I will make a new order’, to brazenly pander to Daenerys’ fanbase, when both women are nothing alike, except for the fact that both are Targaryen women.

4. Follow the source material and not thematically rewrite the Dance:

No Aegon I prophecy or dream. Maintain the Targaryens as the ruthless colonialists they are instead of trying to justify their reason to brutally colonise a whole continent. As a person from the African continent, this is not the kind of rhetoric I would like to see peddle, justifying colonisation in the name of some superior purpose.

No white stag apparition coming to anoint our Saint Disneyesque Girlboss Rhaenyra to rule. This is insulting to the intellect of people who want to see complex storytelling.

Completely rewrite the dreadful Episode 9 and make it as close as possible to the book’s depiction of the Green Council.

No Girlboss moment for Rhaenys, murdering hundreds of peasants and ruining Aegon’s coronation.

Erasing that bullshit about Alicent confusing Viserys last words and make the Green reason to crown Aegon and Helaena based on tradition and precedents, as in F&B, and not based on some feeble concept such as the King’s word. We are not in an Absolute Monarchy here, but the uncultured idiots we have behind this show don’t even know the difference.

Not erasing fat women representation with Rhaenyra and Helaena when you claim to be such ‘feminist’ and ‘inclusive’ show. Where is the inclusion of different female body shapes? Or are they not worthy of representation? Instead, we have one of your showrunners (the incompetent Sara Hess) using fatphobic language to make it seem like it is weird for a woman’s body to evolve after several pregnancies.

Showing women on the Green side (Alicent or Helaena) going through their pregnancies and giving birth.

Not erasing Helaena in her own coronation.

Not infantilising Helaena and making her a side character in some other characters story (Aegon, Jace).

Showing the Green kids with their dragons in Season 1. As it was portrayed in HotD, most casual viewers don’t realise that in real Targaryen fashion, those kids should have their dragons around them in most official displays (side eyeing the whole dragon pit debacle here).

Where is Sunfyre and a clear view of Dreamfyre?

Making Vhagar roar when Aemond eye was slashed.

Making one of the adult correct Baela’s and Rhaena’s wrong assumption that Aemond stole Vhagar. Why did the incompetent showrunners/writers even insinuate that foolishness in the first place without having one of the adults rectify the Dragon lore? We all know that it was to paint Aemond as the villain in this situation.

Making it more evident that Rhaenyra meant torture when she said, ‘sharply questioned’.

Why was Daeron and Maelor absent?

Not making the Dragon/owner bond murkier with that shitty and useless singing session from Daemon in Episode 10, when it is canon that one rider cannot have 2 dragons at the same time to ride. Surely Daemon, as verse into Valyrian lore as they proclaim him to be, should be aware of that. This is just confusing the casual viewers.

Using Mushroom's accounts for both the Greens and the Blacks – if I am using them at all.

Not erasing Mysaria’s miscarriage as it is part of her characterisation.

Not claiming to wanting to make a 50/50 adaptation when BTS the showrunner Ryan Condal is using gobbledygook such as ‘they made Aegon usurps his sister Rhaenyra’s throne’, when, by all Westerosi tradition and precedents, Aegon could not usurp what is already lawfully his as the first-born son of the King.

For the book version of the Dance, I don’t have much to change to be honest:

I would have significantly toned down the Daemon’s fest.

I would have made the Velaryon more neutral or playing both sides, with a strategic splitting of the House to support both sides.

I would have made some of the Houses change team, like for example, making the Royces in the Vale side with the Greens, splitting the allegiances in the Vale, to better illustrate how profoundly divided the whole Realm becomes with the war of succession.

The Redwynes (which I would have made the maternal side of Alicent) and most of the Reach would have sided with the Greens.

I would have betrothed Daeron to one of the other powerful Houses in the Reach.

No Wolf Hour.

No army pulled out of nowhere in the Riverlands after Aemond reduces them to crisp. Instead, some part of the Vale army would make the bulk of it.

Finally, no Jaehaera death. That was just petty and quite stupid writing from GRRM with no logical justification as to why she needed to die. No need for the “most sexy 6 years old” to ever exist in the story.

Jaehaera and Aegon III will have their children, who mostly have no real impact on the Targaryen line anyways, apart from Daena the Defiant who gave birth to House Blackfyre.

#ask #fire and blood #asoiaf #house of the dragon #anti hotd #hotd critical #bad writing #lazy writing #team alicent #pro team green #ser criston cole #alicent hightower #pro aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #house velaryon #laena velaryon #larys strong #ableism #shallow activism

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