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gasolineghuleh · 2 months

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Slated To Be

Wheee hello hello! This is the beginning of a commissioned series for a mortician male reader falling for Papa Copia.

This is chapter 1 of a 3 chapter set, with each chapter coming within a week of the last.

Enjoy!!

this was fun to write by the way, i miss doing autopsy

tw: descriptions of corpses and details of embalming

The instruments gleam and shine in their tray beside you, and sing in your hand-- you are the newly appointed mortician for the Emeritus Church of The Morning Star, and your first body rests in front of you, prone on the silvery slab. A Cardinal, it seems, if you were to make a guess based on the remnants of grease paint around his eyes. The Y-incision marking his chest was clean and concise, and you thanked yourself inwardly that you didn't have to repair some previous dolt's damage. Making the dead presentable for their last rites is difficult enough, and it irks you when someone further up the line doesn't do their job properly.

Your eyes scan over the face of the recently departed, noting the different pock marks in his cheeks and the dimples on the sides of his closed eyes. The black grease paint has stained a charcoal-tinged shadow around his eyes, leaving them sallow and drawn. His black hair is curled in an effort to bring volume to what was clearly thinning in life, and his patchy grey beard is meticulously combed and trimmed.

You start on the eyes-- you were hired to make the man appear as he did in life, and the eyes are one of the trickier things to do. Back in mortuary school you had dedicated hours to the art of paint and makeup, bringing the dead back to visit the living for one more fleeting moment.

Your eyes close and you exhale slowly, mentally preparing yourself to do what needs to be done.

"Now, Mister..." You pick up the name tag around his toe, reading it carefully. "Ah! Apologies, sir. Cardinal Tremaine, let's use your proper title, hm?" you muse to yourself, settling into the familiar ebb and flow of your job. His features are already set well enough for you to continue with the embalming, but you reach down to check his jaw wires and eyelid spikes anyway. Satisfied, you take another steadying breath and move down your mental checklist. The cart of embalming fluid rests nearby and you kick the pedal on the bottom of it, starting the flow of embalming fluid through the trocar that you placed earlier.

The hum and whir of the machinery is almost a calming sound, the way it transports you back to your schooling-- nothing but you and the corpses around you that you're meant to preserve as a token for the living. It's a type of witchcraft, the mortuary arts.

One that you take immense pleasure in.

"The soul migrates from body to body. Weapons cannot cleave it, nor fire consume it, nor water drench it, nor wind dry it..." You recite the lines easily, watching some of the color flood back into the cheeks of the deceased as the fluids do their work.

The air around you shifts suddenly, and you feel a presence enter the room with you.

"Can I help you with something?" Your voice is steady even as you don't look up from your charge. Footsteps sound from behind you as the person approaches, coming close enough to be within touching distance of your left shoulder.

"Scusi, I did not think you could hear me. Just observing. I have always been interested in this, eh? The previous mortician, he never allowed me to watch. But Cardinal Tremaine was a dear friend... a tutor." The man steps forward, joining you at the table and wincing slightly when he catches sight of the trocar in the abdomen. "It's a bit difficult to see him like this, but I felt that I must. He's the first to die under my reign... It felt correct to come and say goodbye."

"I see. And you are?" You clear your throat slightly, awkwardness of unexpected human contact rearing up. You have the feeling that your observer will be staying a little longer than you want.

"Ah, yes, my apologies. I'm Papa Emeritus... eh, the Fourth." He hurries to add his number, and you get the sense that he's not been in the position long. Still, you can't stop your eyes from going wide. Papa is here? The leader of the Church?

"A pleasure, of course. I, uh, well... I suppose this isn't a surprise to you, then." Your gaze goes from him to the body. "He's one of yours."

"One of ours." Papa's voice is stern, but soft. The implication speaks louder than the words do.

His correction sends a chill up your spine, but you nod and turn back to your work. The smell of formaldehyde is overpowering, but you revel in the sharp, pungent scent and push the cart to the side with your foot, flicking the pedal on and off, scrutinizing the shape of the former Cardinal's abdomen as it fills. There's another beat of silence while you work, agonizingly aware of your new company-- living, at that. Living company is something that has become more and more scarce as you dedicate yourself to your art. It's almost foreign now, but comforting.

"Did you, uh- did you know him?" you ask, attempting to make yourself sound conversational and not at all as nervous as you are. The fact that he's here uninvited is enough, but to have him walk in while you were talking to yourself is another thing entirely. A slight blush spreads across your cheeks and you're glad that you can turn to the body to hide it.

"Not well. He was one of the quiet ones." Papa leans in and tsks softly, sighing. "He was my biggest competition for Papa, you know." The surprise is enough for you to turn your head towards him, arching an eyebrow in invitation. "That got your attention, eh?" Papa smiles slightly under the grease paint on his face, a full skull, as befitting his position. You can see faint lines of a mustache under the white, and further lines that indicate smile marks. It's the first time you've properly seen him and you're immediately struck by the mismatched eyes. One is white and almost dead in appearance, but it's the one darting around your face, absorbing your features-- quick, and sharp.

"It's my job to tend to the dead, not to speculate." You give him a wry smile, hoping that the underlying message of "Do tell" was clear. Papa pauses for a moment to evaluate you, his two-toned gaze sweeping from your short cropped hair down to your shoes, your outfit curated perfectly to say 'Normal Guy'.

"Ah. Well, no speculation, then. I just sincerely hope he enjoyed his tea, hm?"

There it is.

The unspoken trust, founded only in a quick but strong connection and cursory glance.

Papa likes you.

Approves of you.

"I was the one who hired you, you know." Papa takes a step closer, leaning further over the body and brushing against your shoulder as he does. His voice is quiet, intimate. "On paper you sounded magnificent." He clears his throat, turning to look at you until you return his gaze.

"I'm glad," you manage to stammer out.

"Even more magnificent in person."

"I should-" The embalming machine cuts you off with a loud THUNK and you're almost grateful for the excuse. "-get back to work," you finish lamely. The machine's pedal has gotten stuck and you lean down slightly to adjust it, breaking the electric eye contact with Papa. The blood from the deceased Cardinal is almost finished filtering into a canister to the side. Papa clears his throat, giving you a tightlipped smile and stepping back slightly.

"Yes, yes of course, my apologies for disturbing you."

You know that he isn't sorry in the least.

"No matter, Papa. Never a disturbance."

"But, before I take my leave." You look back up at Papa as he moves forward, catching your eye again as he approaches. His gloved hands brush over yours, the warmth seeping through the material and doing nothing to ease the flush in both of your cheeks. The last time you were touched had been by accident in the dining hall a couple of weeks ago. "I'll send a Ghoul with an invitation for dinner sometime this week. I'd like to see exactly who I've hired here, hm?" The delicate arch of his brow takes you aback-- he's indirect, but it's enough to get the warmth stirring in your belly.

"I look forward to it." Small miracles persist, it seems, and your voice doesn't shake at all, despite your sudden nervousness at being propositioned by Papa. Or were you? You can't quite tell if he's coming on to you or just extending a friendly invitation to his quarters-- then again, you've never been the best at social cues.

In for a penny.

"Good. I would shake your hand but, eh..." Papa waves his hand towards your gloved ones, damp with chemicals and reeking of latex. "Perhaps later."

"A different time would be good. It was a pleasure, Papa."

"May Lucifer keep you. Until we meet again, amico." The warmth in his tone sends another shock to your core. He lingers for a moment more, watching you work before turning to leave the room. His footsteps fade slowly away down the hall of the basement, and you realize that you've been holding your breath. A slow and controlled exhale starts to relax your nerves until-

THUNK.

The embalming machine kicks itself off again, this time for good.

You make quick work of the rest of the job, embalming the rest of Cardinal Tremaine's body and doing some quick cleanup. His black robes fit him easily enough and you're able to dress the body with a quick and comfortable speed that only comes from repetition-- Papa truly did hire the right man for the job. The mortuary science degree had been expensive, but the career opportunity that it had afforded you is more than enough to pay the debts you racked up during the pursuit... especially now that Lucifer is footing the bill.

It's not until you're sitting in bed hours later, sipping from a glass of red wine in nothing but a pair of silk boxers that it truly hits you-- you were talking to Papa. The man in charge of everything. He hired you. You had never even seen the Fourth in the flesh and now he was coming on to you-- wasn't he? Quick as a flash, your brain replays the images of him leaning towards you, the slow blinking of his eyes and the tip of his tongue left on his lower lip. Your fingers fumble on your glass as you refill it, pouring too fast and nearly splashing it everywhere.

You're in too deep and he's barely done anything at all.

You huff out a sigh and run your hand through your hair, watching a lone droplet of wine as it rolls down the side of your glass. When it slips onto your finger you turn your gaze to the window, where the moon peeks through the trees beyond. The Abbey is comfortable enough, and your living quarters are directly above the basement level morgue, kept flush with the Ghoul dens. Your mind goes back to your first day, and the warnings of the tour guide to be careful after the Ghoul's dinner.

You've only been here for a few days, and the large castle that serves as the Abbey still feels alien and terrifying. The walls feel claustrophobic at times, and you swear that you're being watched whenever you leave your morgue. The previous mortician was consumed by a particularly overzealous Ghoul, and you had happened to be in the right place at the right time. The way you were hired was unconventional at best and now Papa is asking to see you for a "proper meal"-- alone...

"Satan help me," you mutter to yourself, swirling the wine in your glass and shaking your head, looking to the door of your bedroom that leads towards the den that serves as your office. You imagine for a moment that someone is listening and a chill goes down your spine at the idea that the walls truly are harboring secrets-- if the walls have ears, what will they overhear at your dinner with Papa? The Ghouls are bad enough-- the idea of some entity in the walls listening to you talk to yourself, or worse, Papa... that thought is almost unbearable.

It doesn't help that Papa is a looker-- that is, if you're into that kind of thing... which you are. He's not exactly what you were expecting, however, having your expectation formed by the rumors of the previous men of his stature. The former Papas you've heard tales about have been stately, austere. This Papa is young, energetic, and charismatic with a charm that oozes dangerously from every syllable that crosses his painted lips. The man's hair is as black as midnight and styled immaculately back-- if you had to make a guess you'd say it was dyed, and somewhat recently, although there were small pieces of gray in his sideburns. The dark eyebrows over the white of his paint and mismatched eyes is jarring and, you have to admit, somewhat beautiful in its own way. You can only imagine how he moves when he's underneath-.

A grumble leaves your chest at the mental image and you cut your train of thinking off hard, shaking your head to free yourself of the cobwebs of arousal that linger. You set your glass on the nightstand with a soft clink and sit down on your bed, resting your elbows on your knees as you look to the ground and contemplate the gravity of what could happen at your meeting. Would it be just a meal, or would it go farther? You don't dare to dream that far-- the fact that you have this job at all is more than you could have ever wanted.

Still, the invitation had been heavy in Papa's voice.

"It wouldn't hurt to hear him out... professional interest," you mutter to yourself as you lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The cool material of your sheets against your thighs is a welcome break from the heat in your belly that Papa had stirred, and your smallclothes do little to hide your problem. The Ghoul that you had received the tour from mentioned that you could summon any number of them at any given point and a thought settles in the back of your mind-- what would Papa say if he knew that you had summoned a Ghoul for your pleasure?

You shouldn't even be entertaining the thought.

Images pop up in your brain unbidden anyway.

You're alone, it's late, and you have an entire flock of Ghouls just downstairs at your disposal-- why not indulge a little? But... perhaps play it safe, and wait until after your meeting with Papa to call another bed-warmer.

He may even call you in less than a week.

#the band ghost fics #the band ghost ficlet #ghost bc fanfic #papa emeritus #lorraine writes #cardinal copia #copia #popia #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #papa 4 #era 4 #reader x papa #reader x papa emeritus #reader x copia #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #cardinal copia x reader

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heytherejulia · 9 months

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It's nice to have a friend ~ Polin

pairing: modern!penelope featherington x modern!colin bridgerton

warning: some swearing, sexual innuendos, fat shaming, shitty mother, usual bridgerton chaos, insomnia, insecurities

summary: a walk through colin and penelope's relationship based on it's nice to have a friend by mother, doctor, taylor allison swift

word count: 2,9k

Penelope Featherington was walking home after a long day at the university and her only company was the ringing bell of the nearby primary school. January didn’t treat London nicely this year and everything around her was completely white. She was barely able to see a chalk drawing on a sidewalk as it was also covered in thin layer of snow. She smiled to herself when she realised that three little people were drawn on the pavement and signed “me and my best friends”. She thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. She’d never been very sentimental about stuff like that but today she felt like she might actually cry because of how freaking cute that was.

She regained her composure when she felt a piercing cold air on her bare fingers. She put her hands into the pockets of her coat only to realise that she lost her gloves, and it was freezing outside, and she still had at least half a kilometre walk to her flat.

‘Awesome,’ she muttered under her breath.

Penelope felt a tap on her shoulder and she thought her soul had just left her body for good. She didn’t have time to reach for pepper spray nor was she half a decent runner to escape the intruder. She waited for the inevitable when a person revealed his face. It was only Colin. Her life long crush, Colin. Her best friend’s brother, Colin. Her best friend too, if she let herself be bold enough to assume so.

‘Hello, Pen.’

‘Colin! I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Yeah, I was just walking by and saw you and thought I’d say hi. You’re going home?”

‘Thousand times yes.’

He laughed. She liked the sound of that. It felt nice to hear him laugh at something she said. Even if it wasn’t even a little funny. Still, even Colin’s warm laugh couldn’t prevent her body from shaking from how bloody cold it was.

‘You cold?’

‘I lost my gloves. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’

‘Here, take this.’ He handed her one of his blue gloves. Penelope blushed slightly at the gesture but hoped he wouldn’t notice as her cheeks were already pink from the wind. They walked for some time when he suddenly stopped.

‘Wanna hang out? At my place? It’s closer than yours.’

‘Yeah, sounds like fun.’

***

Penelope found herself in Colin Bridgerton’s childhood bedroom for the hundredth time in the past few months looking at him playing some weird video game. She was never into such things, not with her mother towering over her shoulder all the time, forcing her into reading educational books instead of some ‘muddling activities’, so she had never played them when she was a kid and now that she’s twenty something years old she just couldn’t find any will in herself to start it. She just didn’t see a point in doing that. Old habits die hard.

‘C’mon Pen, play with me, it’s just Mario Kart.’

‘I can’t.’ He frowned.

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know how. I’ve never done that before.’

‘NO WAY! You’re friends with Eloise and she has never forced you into playing Mario Kart with her?!’

Penelope just looked at him with a small shrug.

‘It’s okay, I’ll teach you. Sit here.’

He tapped a place between his legs on the sofa. She blushed. There was no way she would be able to sit there and play a stupid game while Colin's arms were wrapped around her body. But she did as he told her and sat in front of him and took a pad from him.

‘Are you ready?’ She nodded. ‘Alright, you have to press this button to start and those to move…’

***

Penelope was so happy to finally have vacation. As much as she loved journalism and literature, she was more than ready to unwind and rest during her leave. Her newly landed job was intense and so was her new boss. Charlotte did not let anybody off the hook unless they did everything perfectly and Pen freshly out of university had a bit hard time adjusting. She was at the annual Bridgertons’ barbecue sitting next to Gregory chatting her ear off with his attempts of flirting (no matter how sweet that was she couldn't really put her heart in it) and trying to ignore the piercing gaze of her mother, who definitely did not approve of her short fitted blue dress. It was too short, too fitting, and definitely too blue, and not yellow enough. She stood up from her seat, took her plate and went to Anthony who was grilling some meat.

‘Classy apron, Viscount Bridgerton.’ He was wearing an apron that said ‘sexy cook’. Probably a gag gift from one of his siblings.

He glared at her but then laughed.

‘Do you want a sausage?’

‘Yeah, I would like one, thank you.’ As he was putting a sausage on her plate she heard her mother's shrieking voice.

‘I don’t think you should be eating that, Penelope, you can skip some of your meals, dear.’

Suddenly she wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. She left her plate on a table next to Anthony and went straight to her seat. Colin stopped mid track his conversation with Kate about India when he heard Portia’s words. He furrowed his eyebrows on the fact that Pen really listened to her mother and refused to eat. He didn't like it a bit.

‘I’m sorry, Kate, I have something to do.’ She just smiled at him and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Penelope. When she felt her phone buzzing and picked it up from the table she saw a message from Colin.

Wanna hang out?

yes

She took her handbag and denim jacket and followed him to the entrance of the garden. He gestured to her to get into his car.

‘Where are we going, Col?’

‘Eat.’

‘But we just ate.’

‘No, WE didn’t. I did.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘I don’t care. I am.’

Of course he cared and he didn’t listen to her protests, and soon after they were sitting in a car-park eating burger and chips that Colin got at a drive through.

‘Don’t listen to that shit.’

She snapped out of the haze.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t listen to the shit your mother is saying to you. You’re perfect just the way you are. And you have to eat to stay healthy, Pen.’

She blushed at his words. She knew he didn’t mean anything by that but it still made her heart flutter. If she wanted to get over her crush on him, he really had to stop saying things like that. But that was that and she couldn’t change his or her own feelings. She just had to accept that he simply saw her the same way he saw Daphne, Eloise, Francesca or Hyacinth. His friendship had to be enough.

‘Thank you, Colin, it's nice to have a friend.’

She broke her own heart by saying those words. But this was for the best.

***

In August, Colin, Penelope, Eloise and her new friend Philip, decided to go camping. Their idea was brilliant until they realised that they live in England and it’s bloody freezing and raining all the damn time even during the summer. When it wasn’t pouring outside they tried to make the best of their time, but there wasn’t much left to do, because even when it wasn't raining, there was so much water everywhere and so much mud. So really, all that was left to do was sitting in their tents playing some stupid secondary school games.

Penelope was a little bit miserable during this trip because Eloise obviously wanted to hang out with Philip and Pen as her tent roommate had to spend half of her time outside to give them some privacy. After two days, Colin just ordered Philip to switch a tent with Penelope cause there was no point in them getting rid of her every two hours. So for the rest of the stay, she slept in Colin's tent.

On the last (rainy) night when she was about to go to sleep, Colin broke the silence.

'I want to travel.'

Penelope smiled at him because she knew that for some time now. Well, at least she was suspecting it.

'Then do that.'

'I also want to write.'

'Then do that too.'

He looked at her like she was a bit crazy.

'What if I'm not good enough at it?'

'Then you'll get better, no one's born a perfect writer, all of those great novelists and poets had to start somewhere or otherwise we wouldn't know them now. You've got this, Col, I know you do.'

He grabbed her hand in the dark.

'Thanks, Pen, it's nice to have a friend.'

***

In the last week of summer after Colin's got back for a short break from his almost a two year trip, Pen and Colin decided to celebrate the last few days of warm weather, before the rainy autumn comes back and the last days in each other's company before he gets back to travelling and she gets back to work.

She looked up from her spot on a blanket and stared at the light pink sky up on the roof of Aubrey Hall. It was getting dark and late as the sun sunk down.

'Do you want to head back?'

Colin was a considerate type of guy in comparison to Eloise, who usually tended to forget about other people and their needs, unless reminded. The two were completely different but Penelope still adored them both equally. Okay, maybe not. She definitely wouldn’t want to jump Eloise’s bones as much attractive she was.

She looked away from the sky and towards Colin. She didn’t want to burst the bubble they were in. She liked being alone with him. She liked the fact that he listened. Simply listened. And he saw her, the real her. Even though he clearly couldn’t see or chose to ignore how much in love she was with him.

‘No, not really. I mean, there’s no curfew, right?’

He smiled thinking about the one time he actually sneaked into her house, way past the curfew, and almost got caught just because he wanted to tell her about his plans for a gap year.

‘No, there’s no curfew… Wanna play twenty questions?’

‘Is there a need for that? I’m almost a hundred percent sure we know each other better than that.’

‘C’mon Pen, it’s going to be fun, here, I’ll start. What is your book about?’

‘Romance.’

‘And? That’s it? There has to be something more.’

‘That’s another question, Col. My turn. When are you going to send your journals to the publisher?’

‘I’m not sure I am.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Two additional questions, wait for your turn. Have you been sleeping well?’

‘Uhm, sure?’ Colin didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want to use your question for?’

‘Yeah. Pretty sure. Also, the unwritten rule of twenty questions is telling the truth, so please, tell me the truth, Pen.’

She licked her lips considering how much of her late struggles she was supposed to share with Colin without lying and worrying him too much.

‘Okay, not so much. It’s the heat, I can’t sleep because of it.’

Technically not a lie. The temperatures were not helping her insomnia.

‘Anyway, my turn. Why do you not want to show the publisher your journals?’

‘Because they need editing and I can’t edit them to make them decent enough to be actually published.’

‘That’s bullshit, Colin, they’re already brilliant but if you want, I can help you. Editing is kinda my job anyway.’

He looks at her gratefully.

‘I’d love that.’

He kept looking at her until she asked if he wanted to ask his next question.

‘Oh, yeah, sure, you’ve been stressed out lately?’

‘Sort of, yeah. It’s hard to keep up with pace at work and my mum is so behind with paying off her loan and she keeps asking for help and my salary stops covering my and her bills. You?’

‘Yeah, me too. But it’s not important, wanna talk about your mum?’

‘No, I want you to tell me why you’re stressed.’

‘I think I want to stop travelling that much. I’m applying for a job here and I’m getting a flat. I’m thinking about settling down.’

She looked away from him. Colin staying in the country was a dream come true but Colin settling down with some women was like a nightmare coming to life.

‘Wow. That’s a big decision. Good for you, Col. So, who finally convinced you to stay?’

At that moment Colin felt it was the right moment. He didn’t really want to wait any longer. He didn’t know when he realised that he wanted a future with her nor did he understand that. But he did come to his senses and waiting any longer was not an option. He needed her in his life in more ways than as just a friend. He felt that something gave him the nerve to touch her hand.

‘You, Pen.’ He whispered. ‘Cause it’s nice to have a friend.’

***

Penelope was walking home to the sound of church bell rings that carried her all the way back. She wasn’t sure if that was a real wedding or maybe her madly in love mind made that up. As she was passing by the old church, she saw the rice on the ground and thought that it actually felt like snow. And she wasn’t delusional after all, some couple really did get married.

She was so happy to be back home because it meant at least two and one third of a day with Colin, doing absolutely nothing, just chilling. But then her phone rang and it turned out to be a call from Portia Featherington herself. Penelope was so worn out after the workload she's been having lately that even a thought of her mother’s nonsense idea of family dinner made her want to crawl in a hole and cry. She knew that everything Portia would say would be nothing more than a bunch of bullshit, but her mother did know where to hit so it would leave a bruise. So Pen was more than happy to bail and stay at home.

What she was not so happy about, however, was the fact that her mother would never give her peace, if they ditch the dinner with her side of the family. It felt almost bizarre, saying that phrase, because technically Colin was not her husband, not even her fiance and relatively speaking, her family was simply her family, he didn’t have any obligations towards them.

But Colin was a good boyfriend. He knew what a bitch Portia and Prudence could be, and would never allow Pen to deal with them on her own. The years she spent dealing with their crap alone were more than enough, and now that he finally came to his senses about his feelings, he was going to be there to protect her for the rest of their lives.

Colin was looking at Penelope as she was driving to her family house and couldn’t help but notice how tired and distracted she was. She was still driving safely but her sour mood was visible.

‘Hey, Pen, wanna switch? I can drive for the rest of the way.’

‘No, there’s no need to. I’m fine, it’s not a long drive.’

‘Are you sure? I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.’

She really didn’t. Her insomnia was back and she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than two hours every night for the last two weeks. She tried to convince him that she was fine, but he could call her bluff at the blink of an eye.

‘Fine, you can drive.’

He smiled at her as she pulled over and gave her a quick kiss as she got out of the car.

‘Thank you, babe.’

***

The dinner was an absolute and utter disaster. Portia Featherington was one of the biggest bitches in the world. She knew how much Pen was working and that she didn't sleep well, and yet the only thing she could say to Penelope was that she should start wearing more makeup and that her figure was not suitable for someone with her height. Colin had enough of her bullshit.

‘Penelope is working really hard because Mrs. Danbury offered her a possible promotion but she has to prove herself and she works her arse off. And she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and if you can’t see it, then you’re fucking blind.’

Colin stood up from his chair, grabbed Pen by hand and dragged her out of the fucking madhouse. He was so furious he realised that he hadn’t said a word to Penelope until they were half way through to their flat.

‘I’m sorry, love. I know they're your family but I couldn’t just sit there and listen as they offended my brilliant girlfriend.’

‘No, I wanted to thank you for having my back there.’

‘Everyday.’

Penelope has realised that for a long time now, she stopped associating home with a place but with a person. At this very moment, their old beat up ford was home, because Colin was there with her. She didn’t need her shitty family when she got him. He was more than enough for her. And Bridgertons were a package deal, with one you got the whole bunch, so she knew that she had more people that she could count on, than she could ever dreamt of.

‘What do you wanna do for the rest of the day?’

She thought about his question for a while. She wasn’t in the mood for anything really, she just wanted to lay in bed and maybe sleep. And maybe she wanted cuddles too.

‘Stay in bed.’

Colin looked at her and smirked.

‘Colin Bridgerton!’

He just smiled and kissed her knuckles.

‘We can stay in bed the whole weekend. We’ve got all the time in the world.’

Later, Penelope sighed happily, as she was lying in his arms in her comfortable clothes. It truly was nice to have a friend.

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #polin #polin fanfiction

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shmolish · 2 months

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hi do you do regular ships? if so could I pls get a prune juice x yan!kouign? like excessively yan lol she murders everyone who even looks at the guy

if not, could I please get a prune juice x yan!reader? tysm ^^ I hope this request isn't too bad/hard

AN: I'M SO SORRY, I DONT REALLY KNOW HOW TO WRITE REGULAR SHIPS, SO YOU CAN JUST IMAGINE THE READER IS KOUIGN AMANN!! I MADE SURE THEY ACTED SIMILARLY ENOUGH. SHE EVEN HAS A SWORD. TY FOR THE REQUEST!! ♡♡♡

Prune Juice Cookie x Yan! Reader. ONESHOT.

Warnings: Gore, murder, stalking, manipulation, all that Yan jazz

-Precious-

There he was, sitting peacefully on a bench, unbothered. Smart, handsome, and perfect. He's so... wonderful. He is he greatest person to ever grace this planet. I must make sure nobody can taint him. He's my everything. My precious Prune Juice Cookie.

But who is she?

Why is that student talking to him? No, why is she even looking at him? I can't let her taint him. I'll deal with her later. For now, I just want to see him in all of his glory.

That laugh, that smile, those eyes. Why does he feel the need to hide them so much? They are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Well, besides him. Nothing is more beautiful than him.

He is my everything. He is my heart, my soul, my reason to live. Without him, I have no purpose. I'd die if I knew I had to wake up and he wouldn't be in the same world as me. My heart beats for him and him alone.

Does he not understand this?

Oh look, that poor excuse of a being has left Prune Juice alone. And look at that, she's wandered off all by herself. Doesn't she know how dangerous that is? Oh well. I don't care. It makes my job so much easier.

I would smile as I walked up to her. "Hello!" I'd say cheerfully while waving to her. It was all fake, of course. I'd never want to smile for some brat like her. It just makes things easier when people trust you.

"Me?" She'd ask while pointing to herself.

Oh great, she's stupid as well. Actually, I already knew she was dumb from the moment she started talking to Prune. She's just so much dumber than I imagined. Who else would I be waving at?

"Yes, you. Can you follow me for a second? I need help with something." I would tell her.

"Oh, uh, sure thing.."

That was almost too easy. If she follows a stranger so easily, why hasn't she already been killed? She's begging for death at this point.

"Great." I grabbed her wrist firmly and lead her to an alleyway nearby. The smile I once wore was gone. All that was left was an expression of cold and silent rage.

It did not take long before we reached the end of the alleyway, and I shoved her in front of me ever so slightly.

"We're here." I told her.

"What are we doing here? I thought you said you needed help with something." She started to back away from me while looking around nervously.

Already has cold feet? She sure didn't when she went up to my most beloved.

"I do need help with something." I told her, taking out my blade and giving her a crazed expression.

"W- what are you doing?" She started to back away even more. Of course I expected something like this. It wasn't long before she hit a wall.

"Leave me alone, you freak!" She'd shout while her expression formed into that of fear.

That's the best thing she can come up with to defend herself? I swear, she's such an idiot. My beloved Prune Juice could have come up with so much better. And his expressions would be ten times more entertaining.

"You're so unoriginal. I've heard that insult hundreds of time."

"Why are you doing this? What did I even do?"

"...You're not very smart, are you?"

I would take my sword and raise it above her body, feigning a strike. She would raise her arms above her, as if that were going to do anything.

"You're not even entertaining. So predictable..." I'd click my tongue and sliced through her chest.

Crimson.

Everything was dyed that deep, blood red. My clothes, my sword, the ground. Her. This is what she gets for speaking to Prune Juice. She laid there with her body all limp. Isn't it pretty? How the blood shimmers when the light hits it. How you can see the life leave their eyes. How they react when they're scared. It's not as beautiful as Prune Juice, but still a thrilling experience nonetheless.

I'd start to walk back to my dorm room, evading everyone's view. I've gotten really good at that, since I've killed so many people.

I entered my empty apartment and immediately changed my clothes. Can't have Prune getting suspicious of me now. I would chuck it into the washing machine and switch to a fresh set. After, I would start to clean my sword. It's much easier to clean, being made of less absorbent material.

I'd sit on the couch, just wiping up some of the leftover blood. I managed to get most of it off in the first attempt, but it's always good to do a second just to be safe.

That's when the door opened, and my roommate would enter the room.

"I'm back.." They would say in a sad tone. He sat down on the couch next to me, not suspecting a thing.

"Ah, hello my love. You seem a bit upset. Is something bothering you?"

He's so precious, even while sad.

"I met somebody else today, and they said they would text me back immediately! But I've been waiting for three hours now, and there's still nothing. This always happens. Am I not likeable?" He'd ask while resting this chin in his hands.

Oh, he's upset about that. He usually is.

"Don't worry, dear. If they don't want to make the effort to talk to you, then they're the problem. You really shouldn't be bothered about what those types of people are up to. Just stick to the ones you know are good, like me!"

I leaned my sword on wall next to us and gave him a kiss on the cheek before smiling at him.

"I guess you're right." Prune Juice would say.

I'm always right.

"Now, why don't we cuddle? There's actually a new show we can watch!"

I would hold out my hand, which he took immediately, and lead him to our bedroom. We spent the rest of the day watching shows and cuddling. That's when I heard a washing machine do its little chime, although it was feint. It was the same machine that held my crimson stained clothes.

I'm sure if I told him one day, he'd understand. This is all for him, after all. I love him so, so much. If he loved me as well, then he wouldn't be mad.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #prune juice cookie #prune juice cookie crk #prune juice cookie x reader #prune juice crk #prune juice x reader #prune juice #prune juice cookie oneshots #prune juice cookie x yan! reader #yan! reader #prune juice x kougin amann #yan! kouign amann

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colettevbellerose07 · 1 year

Text

🎀Is S an Odd Number🎀

🎀Warnings: self-hate, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues

🎀Clark Kent x Mentally ill! Reader

🎀Prompts:“I’m not suicidal, I just want to see if anyone would actually care if I was gone.”

🎀A/N: The way he blinks sends me. I’m literally so freaking 🥰 in love. This is not my best work but I love him so much.

I know I’m not the best partner ever, but to be fair I did warn Clark. I tried to explain to him my bad habits, but he said he would help me get better with that stupid heroic smile of his. I’m not ready to heal, I don’t deserve it. I don’t know why but he keeps trying, it’s like he has “I Can Fix Her Syndrome”. Anyways we’ve been dating for a couple of weeks now. I still don’t know how to act when if he gives me physical affection. I’m not uncomfortable with it I love it. I just can’t believe he actually does it and to my knowledge enjoys it. I genuinely don’t know what he sees in me. No guy has ever treated me like this before it’s so strange, having someone just as devoted to you as you are to them. I truly do love him with every ounce of my soul, but you know what they say, “You can’t love someone unless you love yourself too.” My stupid therapist said that which Clark introduced me to and inevitably encourage forced me to visit him weekly.

“Good Morning, Y/N,” Clark says. “Good morning, Clark.” I looked up at him. Gosh, he’s so beautiful, I have no idea how I bagged such a hottie. But I think this is a universal feeling when you’re boyfriend looks like a buff nerd. “Since we both have an off day I was wondering if you’d like to go to that diner downtown. I heard it’s super good.” Clark knows I won’t eat if I’m not around people. I feel this pressure to eat when in a restaurant. Like if I don’t eat everything on my plate everyone in the room will hate me and think I’m a spoiled brat. Of course, I haven’t confessed this to Clark I think he’s just happy I’m eating. Unlike before our relationship, I either ate too much and went days without eating or I went days without eating and binged my brains out the second I saw food unattended. “Hello, earth to y/n.” Clark waved a hand across my face. “Yes, I would love that.” I beamed, what have I gotten myself into?

Time skip ⏭

The drive was quiet but not the bad kind. While on the drive I tried talking to my therapist, I don’t know why I was bored. “Okay Miss L/N I’ll have your pill doubled since you aren’t feeling any changes. May I ask why you say your suicidal thoughts haven’t gotten better?” He asked, even though the phone I could tell he was genuinely curious. This man has made it his mission to crack down on what is wrong with me. “For the third and last time, sir. I’m not suicidal, I just want to see if anyone would actually care if I was gone.” I denied but who knows maybe I would die if given the chance.

The car abruptly stopped, we must be here. “What!” Clark yelled with pure anger and sadness. “What’s wrong?” I quietly asked. “I would care if you were gone!” There’s no way he could have heard me, I didn’t say that out loud. Unless maybe I did? “Y/N is that why you never told me about any of your conversations with the therapist?” Clark cried, his face looking distraught. I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction. My previous boyfriends wouldn’t do this, if anything they would laugh and say I should just do it. I don’t know how to handle this, “I’m sorry.” I whispered, tears trailing down my face. Clark grabbed me, pulling me into him sobbing into my neck.

I wrap my arms around his back gently caressing him. “Talk to me,” Clark demanded. I feel like I have no control over myself everything I want to say is pushed away when “No.” “Why won’t you just let me in!” Clark yelled “Because I’m afraid, there I said it! I’m afraid!” “Afraid of what?” Clark whimpered his nose slightly scrunched. “I’m afraid of loving you, Clark! I’m afraid that when you find someone better you’ll leave me all alone! I’m so used to everyone I love leaving me, I don’t know why you even like me! I’m a mess of a human.”

Clark sighed deeply as I sobbed. “You aren’t a mess of a human-” “Then what’s sooo interesting about me?” I interrupted, I had hit a new ATL and now nothing means anything even my tone. “I like when you dress up because it makes you all flustered when I compliment you, I like how intelligent you are. Not in a way most people are it’s like your brain is a storage unit for little bits of knowledge. I love your cheesy punny jokes about Superman that you always find an opportunity to tell. I love every aspect that makes you so unique. Your little squeaks of joy when I come home. You, y/n, I love you.” Clark gazed at me. He genuinely loves and cares about me. “I haven’t been a very good girlfriend Clark, I’m sorry. Can we start over?” I looked at him. “I would love to start over. How about we start with a first date.” He said looking at the diner. “Okay, but the last one there pays the bill!” I said rushing out of the car. “Oh no, you don’t y/n!” Clark said hurrying after me.

#coquette writer #clark kent x reader #clark kent #Clark Kent/reader #superman x reader #superman #Clark Kent x depresso reader

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drarryangels · 3 years

Note

Prompts are open! Professors!Drarry, husbands, one tells students all about his husband. No one knows who that is. Until one day sth clues them in. And everyone's like - WHAAAA?! Bets are lost. McG is amused.

Hello there! This is the oldest prompt in my ask box, haha! So sorry it took like two years to get around to this.... *blushes*

Anyways, I hope you like!

“That will be all for today,” Harry says. “You can have the rest of the period to work.”

He leans back against his desk and watches the scramble of students trying to pair off with their friends. He smiles and shakes his head. Every day is the same. Gloriously, marvelously, wonderfully the same.

“Professor Potter?”

Harry looks over to one of his students, a slight teenage girl with her hair tied up into three ponytails. “Yes, Miss Wimblefon?”

She twirls a curl of hair around her finger and smiles up at him. “I had a question for you. About the assignment.”

Harry sighs and waves his hand. “Ask away.”

“You said that the enchantment only works if the user is truly in love,” she begins.

Harry nods and folds his arms. “Precisely. Which is why you are only working on the theoretical application of this spell, and not trying to use it on your classmates.”

Jane giggles. “I’m in love. Can I give it a try?”

Harry stands up and brushes off the front of his robes. “You most certainly may not, Miss Wimblefon. As much as I am pleased by your interest in the subject, it’s not appropriate nor safe to produce the enchantment even when one is truly in love, and I have the strong suspicion that you are not.”

Jane’s cheeks go red. “Well, what does the spell do anyways?” she says, crossing her arms and huffing.

“An excellent question,” Harry says. “An easily answered one if you do your reading.” He holds his hand out to the classroom, and she gives him one last glare before turning on her heel and taking a seat with Mildred Daney.

“Merlin,” Harry says, dropping down onto the bed and spreading his arms out wide.

“What is it?” Draco asks, emerging from the bathroom and leaning against the door frame with his toothbrush stuck out of his mouth. “Jane flirting with you again?”

Harry groans and rolls over on the bed. “How did you know?”

Draco disappears to spit out his toothpaste, and then returns, smelling of mint and citrus shampoo. He climbs up the bed and drops down beside Harry, curling an arm around his waist and pressing his nose in the back of his neck.

“Because she’s the exact same with me,” Draco sighs. “Always playing with that bloody hair of hers.”

“She’s a sixth year already,” Harry says to the wall. “Isn’t this a bit odd?”

Draco nuzzles in closer behind Harry. “Someone should tell her that if she keeps tugging at that hair, it will all fall out by the time she’s twenty.”

Harry laughs. “Don’t you dare, Draco. Her mother will tear down the school.”

Draco bumps his head between Harry’s shoulder blades. “Well, then it will be McGonagall’s problem.”

Harry twists and rolls over to face Draco, his face smiling and bright. “You know,” Harry says, touching their noses together. “I think you may be right.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes,” Harry says and pushes himself on top of Draco, knees on either sides of his hips and arms around his shoulders. “Get Jane out of our hair.” He sets his head down on Draco’s chest. “And while we’re waiting for her mother to Floo in, we can plan our joint funeral, hm?”

“Bit early, isn’t it?” Draco says. He lifts his hands and rubs them up and down Harry’s back.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Harry says. He lifts his head up and grins at Draco. “In fact, it may be a bit late if McGonagall has anything to do with it.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry says, and drops his head back down on Draco’s chest.

Draco is so warm, so soft. Nice. A weight tethering him to the ground, to sanity.

“Good night,” Harry sighs.

Draco smacks his bum. “Get up and brush your teeth, you buffoon.”

Harry groans as Draco pushes him away, all the way off of the bed.

“Why?” Harry wails as he hits the ground with a great oof.

“Because I love you,” Draco says happily before sending a stinging jinx in the direction of Harry’s backside. “Very, very much.”

“Hello, Professor Potter,” Jane says. She’s twirling her hair again.

“Hello, Miss Wimblefon,” Harry says over his breakfast potatoes. “May I help you with something?”

“Yes,” she says, looking rather pleased with herself with her chin all drawn up. “The book says that the enchantment provides a binding connection to the user’s true love. One that doesn’t break until death.”

Harry squirts some ketchup onto his plate. “Almost correct.”

“What?”

Harry picks up a piece of bacon. “Almost correct. The enchantment doesn’t die after death. That’s why it’s so complicated. It must be a mutual bonding, and both parties must be truly in love with the other. And the bond doesn’t break after death, which opens up a certain realm of questioning about putting intention behind spells.”

Jane shakes her head hard. “What does it benefit though? Why engage in such complicated and dangerous magic? What does it do?”

Harry smiles and sets his bacon down. “Miss Wimblefon, would you mind continuing this conversation during our class time? I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

Draco snorts beside him.

Jane glances over at Draco briefly and narrows her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak again, but Draco looks up from his hash and stares at her with wide grey eyes. Too wide to really be attractive, people have said before. Harry likes them.

“Right then,” she says, and runs off.

“Bless you,” Harry says, linking his pinkie into Draco’s.

Draco raises his eyebrows. “Harry.”

“Yes, my love?” Harry smiles at him. Innocently, very innocently.

“Why are you teaching verus amor est alliges duplicia?” Draco glares at him, and squeezes hard with his pinkie finger. “That’s extremely complicated magic.”

Harry shrugs. “No reason at all.”

Draco sighs and winds the rest of his fingers through Harry’s. “Oh, Harry.”

Harry grins. “Oh, Draco.”

“It’s class time now,” Jane says.

Harry glances up at his charmed clock over the archway in his office. “Not quite, Miss Wimblefon.”

“Well,” she says, already sitting down in the chair opposite him. “I didn’t want to interrupt your lecture, so I thought I’d pop in early.”

“Right,” Harry says. It’s probably best to get this over with. Maybe if Harry answers all her questions, she’ll leave him alone. “Go on then.”

“I’m curious to know what is the purpose of the spell.” She folds her hands on Harry’s desk and leans forward.

Harry pushes his chair back slightly. “It’s an irreversible connection with the person who loves you most in the world. It links you together. So, theoretically, if one half of the pairing was hurt, the other would know it. If something good has happened to one, the other feels their happiness.”

“So they share feelings?” Jane asks.

“No,” Harry says. “It’s not sharing. It’s just a sense. An added knowledge.”

“And what else?” she demands.

“It can act as a protective charm, if in dire circumstances,” Harry says. “A bubble of defense, if the two are physically close.”

Jane sighs and kicks her loafers on the floor. “It sounds fine, but not worth the magic.”

Harry smiles. He’d felt the same way when he’d first learned of it. “Well it’s more than that. The best part about it is the connection. It is difficult to explain, even for those who have experienced it. It is a joining of skin, two souls being one, a linking of magic. It is being melded with another person, body, soul, and mind. It is having them with you, always.”

Jane’s mouth opens a bit. “Er. Professor Potter?”

“Yes?” Harry asks pleasantly.

“Are you bonded to someone?” Jane asks, looking scared and excited all at once.

“To my husband, yes,” Harry says, and smiles at her.

Jane falls out of her chair.

It takes another four days after Jane faints in Harry’s office before she comes to confront him again.

“You’re completely oblivious to it,” Draco is saying to Harry. “He has an excellent aptitude for Potions. He’s very talented, really.”

They’re in greenhouse four, so Draco can collect clippings for a potion in his classes the next day. Harry hovers by Draco’s side, not doing anything particularly useful.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Please, you should see him in Defense. I might as well transfigure him into a hippo, and see if it changes the results.”

Draco touches a hand to his chest. “My, my, Harry. I think you’re spending too much time with me.”

Harry pushes at him. “I know I am. Thank Merlin for it.”

“Professor Potter?”

Harry trips and nearly stumbles over into a collection of finger eating bushes before Draco grabs his sleeve and hauls him up.

“Hello, Miss Wimblefon,” Draco says coolly. “May I ask you what you’re doing out of bed at this hour?”

Her eyes pass over Draco. “Professor Potter, I have more questions for you.”

Harry is still choking on his breath. “Er. Yes. Miss Wimblefon, can we resume this conversation at a later time?”

“No,” she says, and comes to stand next to him. “Carry on with your walk. I’ll simply join in.”

They have no choice but to walk.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Jane begins immediately as they’re leaving the greenhouse. “Especially not to a man.”

Draco throws an elbow in Harry’s direction and raises both his eyebrows in question. What is she talking about? he mouths. Harry shakes his head. He has no idea.

“So you’ve performed verus amor est alliges duplicia.”

Draco straightens up beside Harry. He chooses not to look over at him for fear of being burned to the ground with the look on Draco’s face.

“Quite,” Harry says.

“With whom?”

Harry stops. “What do you mean with whom?”

He looks over at Draco, who looks just as bewildered as Harry does, his irritation at Harry’s curriculum forgotten.

Jane stops too and looks back at them. “Who are you married to?”

Harry could fall over laughing.

Draco speaks before he can. “Miss Wimblefon. What is my name?”

Jane finally looks at him. “Professor Potter?”

“Yes.” Draco says very slowly. “My name is Draco Potter.”

Jane shakes her head, still looking confused. “So?”

Draco huffs and flicks his hair off his cheekbones. “So I share a last name with Harry Potter. Who do you think I am?”

“Potter is a common name, it’s not weird that you both have....” Her eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Draco snaps. “Merlin and Arthur, these children get dimmer every year. Potter’s a common name. Honestly!”

Jane turns and takes off running up to the castle.

Harry lets out a breath and holds out his hand for Draco to take. “I think you’re right, love. They really are getting dimmer.”

Draco takes his hand, gentle. “Why did we choose this career path anyways?”

Harry shrugs and they begin the walk up to the castle together. “Good pay?”

Draco blows out a hard laugh. “Good pay, indeed.”

Jane Wimblefon tells the entire school that Professor Harry Potter and Professor Draco Potter are married at breakfast the next day.

Harry drops his head into his hands and Draco rolls his eyes. Headmistress McGonagall stands up briskly and walks right out of the Great Hall. Hagrid bursts out laughing before knocking over the entire front table, and Professor Flitwick along with it.

The students go into a frenzy, jumping up and running from table to table, expressions of shock painted over their faces.

“Forget dim,” Draco says, looking out over the chaos. “This generation is entirely brain dead.”

Harry laughs so hard he gets marmalade in his hair.

#ask box #prompt #drarry #fic #fanfic #essentially plotless #fluff #domestic #professor harry #professor draco #husbands #hogwarts #mine #my work #draco malfoy #harry potter

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

Text

Gremlins in Hogwarts but its stuff they would probably say, Fourth Year edition

----

Tommy: A death tournament? Who would go and fucking enter in THAT?

Ranboo: Techno probably.

Tommy: No he wouldn’t- Actually no he would. Probably do it for the Clout.

----

Tommy, after “Moody’s” lesson: Well that was mildly disturbing.

Purpled: Mildly?

Tommy: I mean I don’t think anyone can beat Wilbur and Dream and their speeches and actions.

Purpled: Eh. That’s true.

-----

Tubbo: Ah yes. It makes total sense for a literal 14 year old to willingly enter a Death Tournament. Especially after he was almost murderd in the past 3 years he has been in school.

-----

Purpled, stuck in a chest: Oh. So this is going to be the universe’s way of traumatizing me huh?

-----

Tommy, busting in the Great Hall: WHERE THE FUCK IS PURPLED

------

Ron: Hey Tommy?

Tommy: Purpled called me Tommy.

Ron: Yeah because it’s your fucking name-

-----

Eret, getting summoned: Oh hey guys!

Tubbo: No time for Hellos only time to search!

-----

Purpled, week 2: Okay it’s been about maybe two or three or just one week and I’m fine. This is just like last time in your cave. Except this time the cave is a lot smaller than before and your being held captive along with another person and your being severely tortured and there’s a limited amount of food and no one would probably find you and oh boy that spiralled real quick.

------

Tommy: Whoever went and locked Tubbo in the fucking Dragon room is going to die tonight. I will commit murder.

-----

Eret: Hi, I’m Eret. I’m technically the three’s guardian and I would like all you staff to know that if you have hurt any of them then I will personally hunt you down and kill you myself. And if I find out that any one of you are the reason that Purpled is missing then I will make sure that your soul not only will be eaten, but it will also be in eternal torment until the end of time. Anyways, do you know where the Kitchens are? I want to thank the House Elves for the food :D

------

Tommy: Why the fuck is there something alive in this chest?

-----------

Tubbo, after Second Challenge: You know maybe it’s a good time to just nuke the place. I have the materials to build one, it wouldn’t be hard.

Everyone: Tubbo N O

------

Ranboo: So are we going to just ignore the fact that Barty Crouch probably died in front of Harry or are we going to go and actually address that?

--------

Tommy, trapped in a maze: Why does this always happen to me?

-------

Purpled, still trapped in the chest: So good news is that I still have like 12 steak in my inventory. Bad news is that keep this up and it’s likely that only one of us will live and the other dies of starvation so here you go.

-------

Eret, finding out it was Crouch Jr who did all of that: Oh. So you were the one who did all of this huh?

Eret, activating her Herobrione powers: Well. I always keep my word.

-------

Purpled: Guys relax I was only slightly starved. That’s it.

Ranboo: Purpled ten minutes ago we just learned that you were also tortured.

Purpled: Ah shit I was hoping you didn’t learn about that.

#dream smp #dream smp au #gremlins in hogwarts au #harry potter #tommyinnit #ranboo #tubbo #purpled #eret #the eret #'correct' quotes

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

Hello! Could I request some sort of scenario where reader is Boozoos guardian spirit in Boozoos ghosts?like maybe they see how he was going to change and they try to protect him/try to get through to mortality etc or something along those lines?I hope that makes sense!

"EVERYONE HAS GATHERED TO SEE YOUR DEMISE!"

"Not everyone."

"Please stop---!!! What?" Confused at the new voice, Boozoo turned away from the melted figures of the ghosts, seeing yet another Christmas-like spirit: you.

Although you looked more like a bear, you were far from terrifying and seemed awfully familiar to him..

You just sighed and frowned at the other spirits. "He learned his lesson, don't you all see? You don't need to punish him. Now stop this nonsense."

Mortality narrowed his eyes, clutching a blue and purple gift box in his hands. "And who might you be?"

"[Y/n]. Guardian spirit. I was actually Boozoo's business partner before my..unexpected passing."

"..[y/n]? I-It's..It's you?!"

Looking towards the mortal, you smiled sadly and nodded. "I've missed you, old friend. I've been watching over you ever since that day, seeing how much you've changed..for better and for worse. You may have done selfish things, but you're not as doomed as Mortality says you are."

The sheer relief over being saved made him weep all over again as he hugged you, begging for help. To see this once heartless old man sob like a child ached your soul, but you held him closely.

"P-Please..save me. I don't want to die..I-I-I swear I won't be cruel to Banny or anyone ever again!!"

"You won't die, Boozoo." You softly reassured him.

"You DARE INTERFERE?!! IT'S TOO LATE FOR HIM TO CHANGE!!"

Mortality's bellow startled Boozoo, though you let him go and moved in front of him in a protective manner. He gripped your cloak, trembling as he wondered what was gonna happen now.

"It's never too late for anyone to change." You sneered at the rabbit. "You think you can just punish whoever you please. But when it comes to my dear friend here..you crossed the line. I won't let you take him. Not now, not ever. If anyone knows him best, it's me."

Sad and Jolly exchanged glances, before looking towards Mortality. Even he didn't know what to do. This certainly wasn't part of his plan at all.

You seem to have powers that were equal to his own..or perhaps even above his. So fighting you would prove utterly useless.

Surprisingly, he gave up and turned back into his more cartoonish form. "Very well..perhaps karma will catch up to you, dear old Boozoo." He chuckled, before looking to the others. "Let us depart."

Then he gazed at you both one last time. "Oh and..Merry Christmas."

And just like that, the trio vanished and you noticed the darkness around you receding. The black goop that once covered the toyshop was soon no more. You disappeared too.

Like nothing ever happened.

"Ugh..boss?"

"B-Banny? Banny!" Boozoo spun around to see his worker on the floor, back to normal. "Oh dear, please..go home and feed your family. Here. Don't even worry about the mug." He hastily shoved several dollar bills into Banny's paws.

She was stunned by the generosity, though she smiled gleefully and jumped to her feet. "Oh, thank you sir! M-Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Banny." He returned the smile and watched as she left the shop.

"Shame it took a near-death experience for you to finally realize your flaws, but..everyone deserves a second chance."

Boozoo's smile faded slightly as he looked at you. "Yes..um..it did. It makes me wonder if I even deserve a second chance..I have been awful and selfish ever since...."

"I believe everyone does if they feel regret in their actions." You patted his shoulder, before you glanced at one of the clocks on the wall, frowning. "Ah..it's midnight. I must take my leave as well, but don't worry. Those silly ghosts can't hurt you anymore."

"I-I hope to never see them again," he muttered. "But...thank you so much, [y/n]. I promise I'll change for the better. I just needed to realize it."

"And I'm glad you did. Take care, Boozoo. I'll be watching over you."

With one last smile, you faded away and he was left alone. He wiped away his remaining tears and sighed.

He learned his lesson.

#clanask #anonymous #the walten files x reader #boozoos ghosts x reader #monster reader #ghost reader

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mygodyouredivine · 3 years

Text

Burning

Summary: Loki isn’t a good man. Loki knows exactly who he is — what he is. Loki has never embraced the cold, yet he despises warmth. And yet, for you, Loki will burn. Loki Laufeyson will burn, but only for his mortal.

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mostly none, minor angst, mentions of torture and death

Word Count: 1254

Notes: Hello! I honestly don’t know what this is, but here you go. This is a bit different from my usual writing style and I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I’m quite proud of how it turned out…? Forgive me, as this is a bit chaotic and all over the place, but it’s kind of the mood I’ve been in for the past few days. Again, I also apologize if I completely characterized Loki incorrectly, but here we go! Please let me know what you think, and any comments/feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks :)

Loki Laufeyson burns.

It’s ironic, isn’t it, how a frost giant succumbs to flame.

Loki isn’t a good man. No, Loki has always been selfish. Loki has always been about self preservation, about survival, about himself, even at the expense of others. Especially at the expense of others. Loki was content to dwell in the carefully constructed threads of his own reputation. Cruel. Heartless. Spiteful. Yes, Loki was all of these things, and he embraced them, if only to hide his true self.

Never in his life did Loki ever allow himself to hope for warmth of any kind, and Loki has lived a long life. How could he? As a frost giant, Loki simply accepted how he was always destined for the cold — always abandoned. After Odin, after Thor, after Frigga, Loki simply stopped trying. No, Loki would not chase relentlessly after people who constantly betrayed him. Why should he? Loki was not a helpless child left to die; he was a god, and gods did not plead. Gods did not cry, did not beg, did not bleed. Yet at the hands of the Mad Titan, Loki did plead. Loki cried and he begged and he bled, and Loki prayed. He prayed to Odin, to Frigga, Hel even to Laufey. Yet Loki’s cries fell on uncaring ears, and again Loki was left to stare at the backs of those he once trusted, marching towards a glory which did not include him.

Once Loki had returned — returned from the very pits of Hel, from dying a thousand deaths, he was a changed man. He knew it. Thor missed his brother: the mischievous, bright eyed trickster with whom Thor grew up with. Frigga missed her son: the eager, sharp boy who delighted in the arts of seidr. Odin, albeit silently, missed his son: the clever, level headed young man, desperate for his father’s approval. Most of all though, Loki mourned the man he once was. He mourned the hopeful boy who delighted in the pursuit of knowledge, who still held love for others, and who indulged in the simple delicacies of life. He mourned the man whose hands were not stained by a thousand deaths, whose eyes had not shed a thousand tears, whose mouth from which there had not been torn a thousand screams. Loki mourned the man who was not broken. For Loki was once a perfectly sculpted vase of the finest china, only to be dropped, smashed, and crushed repeatedly. Now Loki was nothing more than a fine powder, easily blown away by the slightest wind. Loki too, mourns the vase he once was. But them? No, they had no right to miss the man Loki was. Not when they all played a part in making him the man he is now.

You see, some things can be fixed. Others can’t. Kintsugi embraces one’s history, carefully putting together broken pieces back into a whole. But there is no process for powder. Not even a god — not even Loki — could piece powder back into a vase.

So he stopped trying.

Instead, Loki built up walls around his heart, carefully guarding the remaining powder of his soul, relentlessly preventing anything and anyone from venturing too close. Powder is so fragile, even more so than a vase. A gentle wind and the vase may sway, but the slightest breath could blow half of Loki’s soul away. And he already has precious little. Yes, Loki misses the man he was, misses the beautiful and regal and complete vase, but he fears the man he will become if he does not even have the sand of his soul. Loki cannot risk even the slightest wind, for his tether to his sanity is already so desperately strained.

And so Loki resigned himself to live out the rest of his days alone.

Yet she disagreed. Her delicate, fragile, mortal self saw completely through his wretched reputation, through his iced defenses, through the countless shields thrown around Loki’s pathetic powder of a heart. She walked up to Loki and phased through the dungeon bars through which his heart lived as if she alone held the key. Perhaps she always did.

Loki never wanted her warmth. Loki was content to guard his sanity and freeze for all of eternity. In fact, Loki hated any semblance of warmth. Any form of warmth too easily scorched his icy skin, burning the agony deep into his very bones. Yet here he is. Here Loki lies, willingly burning — all at the hands of a mortal. This mortal cradles Loki’s entire frozen heart in her carefully cupped hands. Loki remembers what she said to him, when he choked out an explanation for his pathetic shards of a heart, ashamed he could not give her more.

Loki the thing about powder is, you cannot keep it contained. You can’t grip it with all your strength in a vain attempt to keep it from blowing away. Much like sand at the beach, you have to gently cradle it in a loose palm. Yes, the wind will blow some of it away, but ultimately you will be left with more than you had. Loki, please, let me be fire to your sand. Let me burn you, so that you can be glass again.

Hence, the miracle of his mortal. Loki never expected to find acceptance, much less embrace warmth. Loki had come to terms with the loss of the man he once was, the soft young man who believed in love and art, who delighted in sweets and lazy mornings, who permitted himself to hope. Loki vowed never to think of the vase he once was, no longer reminiscing pointlessly only to drown in despair. But damn. She managed to warm him from the very grains of his shattered heart. Her patient hands pieced together his wrecked mind, soothing the scars with her gentle kisses. Her very soul, so different from Loki’s, melted his own, resurrecting a man he thought dead. For with his mortal, Loki does believe in love and art. He bakes with her and lies with her, and he allows himself to hope with her.

If Loki was the frozen terrain of Jotunheim, she embodied the fire of Muspelheim. It was fitting — Jotunheim and Muspelhiem, opposites in every way, yet bonded by the shared disdain from the Aesir. Sworn enemies, destined to bring about Ragnarok.

No, she would not bring about Ragnarok. How could she, frail and delicate and so unforgivingly mortal? Yet, she would be the cause for Ragnarok, for if Loki ever lost the fire that warmed him, he would burn the entirety of the nine realms just to feel a flicker of warmth. The world must pray they never see a time of Loki without her.

For now, Loki gazes at his mortal. She is tangled in the sheets, limbs haphazardly strewn over Loki’s own, mouth slightly agape, soft snores gently stroking his neck. She looks entirely helpless, vulnerable, powerless. Yet unbeknownst to this mortal, she single handedly protects the fate of all the realms. For as long as this mortal draws breath, Loki would do anything for her, protecting realms filled with wretched souls.

But as soon as the Norns take her, Loki will take everything else. Loki knows who he is. He knows he is a selfish man — a villain, if you will. If her grounding warmth ever leaves Loki, he will once again freeze: Loki will become so cold he burns.

Loki Laufeyson will burn, but only for his mortal.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #reader insert #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #possessive loki #protective loki #loki fic #marvel

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notanotherinfjblog · 3 years

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The types as strangers I wish I had known (version 4)

Previous versions: One, two, three

INTJ: She was the first person to show me kindness in a new place. Moving across the country all alone in the middle of a pandemic is not exactly the ideal start of your first real job. So she took it all on herself to take me by the hand, to organise all the things that I had no clue about. She gave me a little tour around the workplace, recommended me places to eat once the pandemic is over, asked me about how I was settling in, remembered little things I mentioned. She was the only person not working from home when I first arrived and so it was just the two of us. She was quiet and reserved as most people here seem to be, and she was awkward in every way when interacting with me. But she tried so hard and maybe it’s just me projecting, but she said her son was in the very same situation as me right now, and it felt like she tried to help me in the way she couldn’t help her son, like she wanted to take me under her wing, but not make it awkward, and then actually making it slightly awkward in doing so. Her heart just felt warm and so did mine when I said thank you.

ENTJ: Everyone knows the classic character of a self-righteous doctor in a hospital show. You know that one. The one that everyone thinks may be hard-working and clever, but heartless and uncaring and egocentric, but a few episodes down the line you start to see that there is more going on underneath the rude attitude. I’ve always believed this to be a stereotypical depiction that is more of a caricature until I met her. She was a doctor at a hospital I stayed in, and damn, she was just like that. She stormed into the rooms, rolled her eyes at a patient whose German was bad, even though she had a thick accent herself, couldn’t be bothered to commit to polite standards of communication like saying hello or thanks, and she didn’t care to wait for just a second when a nurse was in her way and pushed her aside instead. Especially two young nurses were exasperated with her and complained about her as soon as she stormed out of the room. They really made me feel like I had gotten myself into a hospital show as a patient, it was fantastic. And I have to say, even though this young doctor had all of these flaws, she was the only one that actually talked to the patients and explained what was going on, hell she even talked to that woman’s daughter on the phone for a few minutes because the woman didn’t understand the language. Just like on tv, she may have been rude, but at least she seemed like a good doctor.

INTP: My university department held a conference and I was responsible for making sure that all these professors and PhD students didn’t die from their coffee cravings, so I spent most of my time running around with giant coffee cans. And I have to admit, among all the scientists that were roaming the halls, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was a PhD student from the Netherlands and there was just something about him that did not fit in. You know how professors are often a bit eccentric or strange by normal standards (which explains why we had to explain to an unspeakable amount of them how a coffee can works), so you’d imagine he’d fit right in. But he didn’t. He was his own universe. While everyone was networking, he was studying the research posters in silence. Not because he was too shy, he seemed very comfortable in his own skin. He just didn’t seem to care all that much about other people. I got to listen to a few talks and as he sat in front of me, I saw him play a video game. At an international conference. With professors and colleagues sitting behind him. And he still managed to ask intelligent questions about the talk afterwards. No idea how. Part of me wished I could have talked to him, not because he was cute though he was, but rather because I really could not tell you what kind of person he was. Was he a good person? A bad one? Probably something in-between. But I don’t think my opinion would have fazed him all that much, since to me, he seemed like the kind of person that valued his own opinion on himself the most, and I think that’s a good thing that he’s got there.

ENTP: I had just moved to a different city in a completely different part of the country, and I had just gotten back from my first walk around town. Sounds exciting, but I got back to this unfamiliar flat that I was supposed to call home now and I was panicking. So I stepped out on the balcony hoping the cold air and the stars above could calm my nerves. But it wasn‘t them that did. I stood there in the dark and saw an elderly couple in the parking lot. The woman was in a very similar mental state as me. She was running around their car and was talking about all the things they still had to take care of and things they‘d need, but had forgotten, and her voice got higher and shakier with every word. And then her husband just went and hugged her. She kissed him goodbye three times and every time she did, he let out a little laugh, calm and gentle. He pat her on the back and said that everything was going to be okay, that they would see each other again tomorrow. She kissed him goodbye one last time before she drove away, and I stood there alone in the dark and thanked the universe that I was there at the right time to hear this old man‘s words. For some reason he always seems to appear every time I‘m feeling low and strikes up a little chat with me. And every time he leaves, I have already forgotten what I was sad about.

INFJ: I think everyone pursuing an academic career has this one hero, this one scientist that lit the spark in their heart to dedicate their life to science just like them. I know I have one. So when I started an internship at his lab with one of his colleagues, I didn‘t really expect to meet him. I had seen him around once in a while, yes, but who was I to approach a stranger to tell him what his work meant to me? But then came the plenary meeting that was meant to get more people of the lab to get to know one another - and he approached me. He sat down next to me, asked me about my academic past and future, asked about my current project with his colleague. And I still can‘t believe it. Only a little girl singing in the church choir who is suddenly approached by Beyoncé can hope to imagine what it felt like. He was an internationally renowned scientist, he would have had every reason to look down on the rest of us. Many of them certainly do. But here he was, talking to a little intern from abroad. He was such a genuinely nice person, was sweet and slightly awkward, he even mirrored my weird head nodding that I always do when all the words have left me. He felt like a kindred spirit. I didn‘t tell him what these few minutes talking to him meant to me though part of me wishes that I did, yet still he invited me to the meetings of his research team even though I was not a part of it. And when I came and sat down, he turned around, smiled at me and turned away again, and I can‘t tell you how insane it feels that all of this actually happened.

ENFJ: I’ve written about him before and I will write about him forever. I remember the day our eyes first met in that crowded school corridor almost half of my life ago. I don’t know why neither of us could look away that day, why neither of us could ever look away again from this day on. Somehow our eyes always found each other. I remember the snowy day at the train station so many years later, how he stood there alone in the cold and how he slowly walked towards me, his eyes glued to his feet that abruptly stopped right next to mine. And yet he stayed silent. As did I. So we stood there for an hour waiting for our train, quickly averting our eyes every time they came close to meeting. I remember him looking back at me over his shoulder once we got off the train. He seemed quite flustered that I was about to find out that he had parked his car right next to mine and so he fled. Both of us kept parking our cars next to each other, even when we didn’t see each other for months. But I could never follow him out. He was my own personal mystery. I spent countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what it was, this strange thing that was going on between us, this little secret that we shared, and I wondered who he really was inside, not who he pretended to be in front of his friends. He was like an island in their midst, always a bit detached, always tucked away behind a smile. Soon twelve years will have passed and still we’ve never spoken a word, but somehow these dark brown eyes still feel more familiar than my own, these eyes that always seemed to look right into my soul. I could have stared at them my whole life. I honestly have no idea what it is that is tying me to him, what it is that I felt back then and what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’ll never know. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I know our paths will cross again some day. I can feel it in my bones. This story is not over yet. Maybe then we’ll finally be ready to meet properly. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to speak.

INFP: I happened to stand at the window when I saw the new postman approach our letterbox, and so I watched him throw letters and magazines inside - and stop. He moved his head closer to the box and a frown appeared on his face. He backed off, wanted to leave, came back again and didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do. So he rang the doorbell. As I opened the door, there he was, shy and with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m so sorry”, he said. “There is a sign on your letterbox that you don’t want advertisements, but I saw that too late and I had already thrown it in. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t get it out of the box and so I thought, I should ask if that’s alright.” And my heart just went awwww, that’s adorable. I smiled at him and told him that it was absolutely fine. He seemed so relieved. So he went away and I closed the door.

ENFP: This is for the man with the kind, but heartbreakingly sad eyes who sometimes sits in front of the train station silently begging for money. This is for the grandparents who spent their train ride trying to teach their little grandchildren the numbers from one to five. This is for the old woman who always kneels down in the middle of the train station with her forehead pressed to the ground, keeping still for hours, enduring the devastation of thousands of people passing by without stopping. This is for the woman who knelt down next to a homeless man, who took his hand and asked how she could help him. This is for the man who made faces at the little boy sitting next to him on the train to make him laugh. This is for the anger I felt when I saw the distraught face of a 10-year-old boy coming out of the movie „1917“ at the cinema with his father. This is for the happy little puppy who lives next to the bakery where I usually grab my lunch. This is for the twenty people who decided to all speak a foreign language during a meeting with each other just because I was there too, a total stranger they had never even seen before who is bad at their native language. This is for the creep that asked me in the middle of the street at night to accompany him. This is for the two teenagers who went to buy sandwiches and coffee for a homeless woman. This is for the families I often see sitting at the train stations, sometimes with a baby in their arms, holding a sign saying „Syrian family. We are hungry, help us please.“ This is for the man who yelled at his girlfriend because she gave them some money. This is for the people who play music during everyone‘s morning commute on the train. This is for all the people who approached me speaking in French and started to laugh when I apologised for not being very good at it. This is for Paris, in all its beauty and all its ugliness. This is for humanity, in all its beauty and ugliness.

ISTJ: He was sitting alone on the train, looking out of the window while listening to something with headphones. He was a tall guy in his mid-20s, one with a full beard, long brown hair in a neat ponytail, and a t-shirt of some rock band that I had never heard of. So, I was sitting there, three meters away, minding my own business, when I suddenly heard a giggle. The entire car of the train had been quiet all this time as it usually is, so I looked up and saw this guy trying to contain his laughter. He pressed the lips together, scratched his nose in order to inconspicuously cover his mouth. I don’t know where this sudden burst of laughter came from. Maybe he was listening to an audio book and reached a funny part. Maybe he was listening to a voice message of a funny friend. Maybe he just had a very amusing thought, I don’t know. But I’ve always had a soft spot for people who randomly start laughing in public and get embarrassed about it cause it’s always, always adorable.

ESTJ: She was a PhD student at my university and she was the one who mainly organised the conference that the above mentioned INTP was attending, too. And even though she didn‘t get tired of complaining about how much work this all was, how typical it was of her boss to volunteer to hold the conference at our university and then not lifting a single finger, she was like a fish in the water, not out of it. She observed everything and everyone, immediately recognised little problems or things that could become a problem, she was constantly running around checking everything, and she kept so many things in mind, it was impressive. One of the attendees sat in a wheelchair and as soon as she noticed, she made us rebuild the entire cafeteria immediately so that everything was reachable for her. And in all the running around, all the obligatory smalltalk, all the stress, she still found the time to stand with us student helpers and joke around.

ISFJ: It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon when all of Paris was trying to get home in the middle of a train strike, so the trains that did run were even more crowded than usual. I did not enjoy sharing 5 square metres with almost 40 other people. But then he entered the train and stood right next to me, leaning against the doors without moving, looking like an intellectual in gangster clothes. We were surrounded by noise of people talking and of rails screaming, by strangers breathing onto our skin, and he just stood there unfazed by it all. He radiated calmness like I‘ve never seen anyone do before. Soon it reached me too, filled me up and left no place for any distress or anxiety. He was like an island in the storm that grew and grew and grew until all of the 40 people around him were safe. I felt safe. I don‘t think he has even the faintest clue about how special he is, but I feel like it has been a privilege to have crossed paths with him.

ESFJ: Did you ever meet someone who, on first glance, looks like the perfect example of a jock, just a short guy with bigger arms than he’s tall? But then you look again, take a closer look at him and you realise that his face has goodness written all over it. He may be horribly bad at grammar for a linguistics student and he may be a bit too sensitive for his own good, but he never made it a secret of how much of a sweetheart he really is. And in situations like these, when he talks about how emotional he got as a tutor when his student told him about a dying grandfather because he felt responsible for the student’s wellbeing, in situations like these, when he approaches my friend after a class to apologise for his harsh criticism of her presentation and to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, to which she gets all confused because she didn’t take the slightest offence to anything he has ever said in his entire life and he mumbles that he may have to stop beating himself up about stuff like this, I just want to give him a hug and never let go.

ISTP: I saw her on the metro during rush hour in Paris, and I immediately noticed her to be different. Everyone else always only stares at their phones or into space, everyone else always look like a tired zombie. She was not a zombie. She was leaning against the doors, shaking her leg in the rhythm of the music she was listening to. She was short and skinny, and not even her punk boots could hide that, but there was such a confidence shining out of her, a confidence in who she was that made her look like a giant. She looked like she‘s probably had it rather rough in life, but it didn‘t break her. She rose to the adversity, rose in spite of it all. She seemed to be capable of so many things. Intelligent enough to go into science if she ever wanted to, vicious enough to end someone who ever dared to cross her, warm enough to love deeply and with all her heart if she let it.

ESTP: It was a hot day and far hotter than a September afternoon ever should be. I was stuck in a traffic jam in the city, melting in my car as were so many others, waiting for that red light to finally turn green. And then he came, a young guy in an ugly shirt and with a hat on his head. He started to cross the street, but then stopped right there in the middle. And he started to juggle. In the middle of a traffic jam on a Friday afternoon, he juggled. Just before his green light turned to red, he bowed down to the cars a few times, and then jumped to the sidewalk and left. Thanks, mate, you enigmatic juggling traffic hero.

ISFP: I met him at a wedding. He was a bald man in his 70s with thick horn glasses and probably the most intimidating person I’ve ever met. Not because he was mean, but because he was so confident in himself and so observant. His gaze constantly changed direction. He took everything in that happened around him, he didn’t miss a single thing that was going on, and still he was calm and sure of himself that everyone at our table felt like they had to impress him in some way. Just by looking at him you knew he must have lived an extraordinary life and he really did. He liked talking about himself. He talked about living in the American desert, on a mediterranean island, in a Buddhist monastery, and on a cruise ship. He talked about the smell of the desert at night, about the taste of oranges picked from a tree. He talked about the people he met, about professors and musicians, about cooks and monks. He talked about how much his village loved him. But he also liked listening to others talk about their own lives. It was obvious that he treated life as an experience, as a journey that cannot be planned or imagined, only lived. When we said goodbye, he looked me right in the eye and told me that he thinks it’s great what I’m doing with my life and that he’s looking forward to meeting me again some day. It felt a bit like receiving praise from a deity.

ESFP: He was a nurse in the accident and emergency department at the hospital and the first person to talk to me while I was waiting in front of an examination room. He was only passing by with a colleague, but he stopped the conversation when he saw me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw, sugarmouse, what happened to you?”, was the first thing he said to me. You know, if an unknown man in his 50s is coming towards you and calls you “sugarmouse”, you’re usually not exactly happy, but he was just an overwhelmingly non-threatening guy that called all of the nurses and doctors by kitschy nicknames and radiated warmth wherever he went. He had noticed that I was nervous, and so he came to me and tried to gently put my mind at ease and I was really grateful for it.

#writing this took 3 years #nothing happens during a pandemic but all the more important this kind of testimony to these people feels to me #esfj has actually become a friend of mine by now #isfp is part of my family now since it was his brother's and my mother's wedding #and the enfj guy is the same as in the first version of this post that i wrote 5 years ago #i don't know where he is now or what he's doing but i really hope that his life is filled with love and happiness #i just think it's strange that after graduating i never saw 98% of the people i went to school with again #but the two people i did meet again dozens of times? were enfj and his little brother #sometimes it felt like a conspiracy of the universe and we were just too stupid #every time i think about how we had eye contact while driving past each other twice i think i‘m going insane #mbti #myers-briggs #types as #strangers i wish i had known #intj #entj #intp #entp #infj #enfj #infp #enfp #istj #estj #isfj #esfj #istp #estp #isfp #esfp

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

You woke up slowly.

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check.

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check.

Wait…

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left.

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear.

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check.

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man.

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

...

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out.

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you.

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again.

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep.

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze.

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body.

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on.

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out.

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going.

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove.

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn.

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease.

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you. As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly.

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse.

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball.

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place.

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow.

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could.

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course.

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome.

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality.

A certain quality of... of...

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves.

Sigh.

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet.

The reply was instant.

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more.

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up.

Your jaw dropped.

You dropped your phone.

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it.

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope.

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say?

This is just an ad?

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone.

At a very specific number.

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree.

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything.

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that.

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh.

You sneezed.

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

You sniffed, rubbing your nose.

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered.

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait.

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers.

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh.

Whoa.

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs.

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch.

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket.

Oh.

Oh???

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone.

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt.

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him.

Yoongi was right next to you.

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat.

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second.

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

part iv

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Clipped wings♕yandere!prince!jjk

♮ 18+ ♮ xtremity: 4 ♮ pairing: prince jjk x female reader ♮ genre: soft smut, light angst, royal au, soft yandere ♮ word count: 7.7k ♮ warnings: light angst, soft yandere, possessive behavior, stockholm syndrome themes, soft smut, virgin!reader, oral(f), fingering, praise ‘dirty’ talk, unprotected sex/creampie.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for so long and here he finally is. I want to thank @ppersonna for being my soft smut aid, I couldn’t have finished this without you. And thank you @chimoona for being a good support to keep me from throwing this fic into the trash can at several occasions. ily or something. Also thank you to my dear @carly-bean-blog for helping me out with this gorgeous banner. chu♡

It was a late night, the darkness illuminated by the continuous lightning strikes flashing, rain pouring down so hard that it was hard to see further than a few meters ahead.

It was the worst thunderstorm in history, you were sure of it.

Unfortunately, you were in the midst of it, lost in the woods as you tried to navigate your way back to town.

But to no avail, you were completely disoriented, panic rushing through your spine as you felt your clothes getting heavier, soaked by the cold rain.

Aimlessly wandering for shelter, you end up in a large garden, following the trail of flowers until you reach two grand doors. You look up, palms placed flat on the surface, your eyes squinting to get a better look of it. You couldn’t see very well, but this was a very large building-- A castle?

Another strike of lightning sparked in the sky, the silhouette of the castle visible for a split second, and you gasp, startled from the roaring sound. In the midst of it, you decide to knock three times on the wooden doors.

A long moment passes, until you take a step back when the two doors slowly creaked open. Keeping one hand over your face to shelter your eyes from the rain, you’re able to distinguish the frame of a man standing by the doorway,

‘‘Who may this be?’’

Must be a butler, his voice deep and smooth. He didn’t look very pleased, however.

‘‘I-I just.... I’m lost, and-’‘

‘‘I’m sorry, we are unable to help. Unless you have business with the prince, you must leave immediately.’‘

You took a step closer, a frown on your face, ‘’You’re going to leave me here in the cold? It’s pouring!’’

The butler didn’t move, but his eyes were apologetic, ‘’I’m sorry, ma’am.’’

‘‘I’ll die from the cold!’‘ You pleaded. It felt partially true, you were freezing, soaked and lost. How could one be so heartless?

The butler pursed his lips, as if he was trying to find a solution, ‘’Then... step inside for a moment.’’ he ushered for you to get inside just far enough for you to be sheltered by the building, closing the doors behind you before he strides through the hall towards a room, ‘’Wait there, I will be back shortly.’’

So, you did. You waited, for what felt like forever.

Until finally, the footsteps of the butlers heeled boots echoed through the large hallway was heard as he returned, a vague smile on his lips as he bowed at you,

‘‘The prince would like to see you.’‘

You tilted your head to the side, ‘’He would?’’

The butler nods, ushering for you to follow behind him, so you do.

When reaching the next large door, the butler opens them before stepping to the side, announcing your presence, ‘’She’s here, my lord.’’

You walk in, unsure of what to say or do, jumping where you stand as the doors slam shut behind you, leaving you alone with this.... prince.

‘‘Who are you?’‘ His smooth voice snapped your attention towards the man standing by the window, back facing you.

From what you could see, he was very young. A lot younger than you expected, probably around your age if you weren’t mistaken.

He had raven hair, a form fitted suit showcasing his perfectly sculpted proportions, a slim waist with broad shoulders.

Please, let him at least have a less attractive face.

The prince turned around slowly, a wine glass swirling in his hand while the other was stuffed deep down the pocket of his suit pants.

Of course he was beautiful.

‘‘Let me ask you again,’’ he said, taking one sip from his wine as he slowly sauntered over to you, the echoing of his heels clacking against the floor prominent in the grand room, ‘’Who are you? And what do you want?’’

Your eyebrows were drawn together, gaze following him as he circled around you like some kind of predator eyeing its prey.

‘‘I’m Y/N. I simply wish for shelter from the storm until it passes, then I will be on my way.’’

The prince hummed, his eyes drawn to the liquid in his glass as he’s in thought,

‘‘And why should I grant you this wish?’‘

What? Wish?

‘‘Are you serious?’‘ You grew annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest. Ah, your clothes were cold... Looking at him, your eyes were annoyed, yet pleading, ‘‘It’s a very bad storm, I can’t go back out...’‘

‘‘Then what do you offer?’‘ He glanced back up at you with a serious face.

What could you possibly offer a prince? He had everything he could ever desire.

But, you did have one thing that could not be bought...

‘‘I could sing for you.’‘

The prince’s eyes widened, he didn’t expect that out of all things you could’ve offered. ‘’Huh? I mean...What?’’

Now he’s the one speechless. huh.

‘‘Yes,’‘ You take one daring step forward, ‘‘I’m not rich, nor do I have anything of... value to give. But.. I can sing. Isn’t it awfully quiet in this large castle all by yourself?’‘

He rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, placing the glass down on the nearby desk before crossing his own arms over his chest. ‘’Go on then. Sing for me.’’

His command causes you to take a deep breath, giving him a short nod. God, you wish you would’ve been able to change into dry clothes first... Hopefully, this would be enough for him to let you stay, and maybe even accommodate some dry fabrics for your freezing body.

Jungkook leaned against his desk, fingers thrumming against his bicep as they were crossed. He wasn’t expecting much, honestly. But, he was truly bored-- why not mess with this strange girl before throwing her out?

But, he spoke too soon, and his premature judgement backfired. As soon as you cleared your throat, a shaky tune escaped your parted lips. With every word you sang, your voice got steadier and more secure in your abilities. The cold was less of a bother as the piercing, fixated gaze of the prince heated your entire being.

He was absolutely mesmerized by your voice, his lips fell slightly agape, his body stiffening. He expected nothing special, but this... It was probably-- no, it was without a doubt the most beautiful sound he’s ever been blessed with. It touched his soul, his heart pounded beneath his rib cage so hard it felt like it would burst, eyes now focused on your effortless beauty despite your messy damp hair and soaked clothes. You were way beyond physical beauty.

He’d already made his decision by now.

‘‘Enough.’‘ The prince had closed the distance between the two of you, his body standing right in front of yours. You hadn’t noticed that he came up to you until your eyes opened, breath hitched at his close proximity. Your doe eyes stared up at him, his own dark orbs swirling with an unnamed emotion.

‘‘S-so...?’‘ You whisper, hoping that it was enough for him to let you stay the night.

He smiled softly, reaching to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand. ‘‘I’ll need you to sing for me once more,’‘ He paused to snap his fingers, the maid that you didn’t even notice was in the room ushers you out of the room to lead you to your own.

Jungkook wanted to hear it again. And again... And again… For the rest of eternity.

~ ~ ~

The following morning you felt well rested, the large bed and dry nightgown provided worked wonders. Peering around the room, you realized that you’d possibly overstayed your welcome, the sun shining through the large... locked and barred window? Odd. Safety precautions, supposedly.

You pushed the bedspread away from your body to stand up, heading towards the door to leave.

It was locked.

‘’What the..?’’

You were in disbelief, jerking the handle once, twice. It wouldn’t budge. You were locked in.

‘’Hello?... I can’t get out! Open the door!’’ You yelled through the keyhole, fist slamming against the wooden surface of the door, hoping that somebody in the large castle would hear you.

As soon as you were about to slam your hand against the door once more, it suddenly opened. It was the kind butler, handing you a stack of clean clothes and an apologetic smile.

‘’The prince has instructed for you to join him for dinner this evening,’’ He pauses to make sure you’re keeping up, his lopsided smile still present, ‘’Please put this on before then. I will return when it is time.’’

He puts the fabrics in your hands before you’re able to even think of a response, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

‘’Wait-- Why was the door locked?’’ You pleaded for an answer, but the butler avoided the question, and simply took a step back before slowly closing the door, the expression on his eyes nothing but penitent.

You couldn’t believe what was happening, eyes widening as you dropped everything to the floor, attempting once again to open the door, but within the same second the click of the lock striked the room, and the fading sound of footsteps leaving in the hallway.

What were you supposed to do the entire day?

And why did the prince want you to stay for dinner?

And for god's sake, why on earth were you locked in? You thought the prince wanted you out as soon as humanly possible. Nothing made sense.

A defeated sigh pushed through your lips as you picked up the clothes that you’d dropped, heading over to place them on the bed. You wonder if the prince himself had personally picked out this ensemble for you. Not that it mattered. You lift the cloth to inspect the dark purple fabrics, a cocktail style dress… and honestly… you’d lie if you said it wasn’t beautiful.

~ ~ ~

The evening finally arrived, and you actually had gotten ready in lack of anything else to do, dress on with the matching shoes-- even the little bracelet provided, a small silver dangle attached shaped like a little bird. You figured, you might as well oblige to the prince’s wishes, and hopefully you’d be able to leave after this… dinner.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had made sure that everything was up to his expectations; the grand table filled with a variety of delicacies. He circled the table several times, sharp eyes observing that every single detail was up to par. And it was, he hummed in content before his gaze landed on his butler. ‘’Bring the lady, make sure she’s dressed for the occasion.’’

‘’Yes, my lord.’’

~ ~ ~

A firm knock on the door caught your attention as you were observing yourself in the large mirror. Suddenly, you almost felt nervous-- jittery. Taking a deep breath, you head towards the door, waiting for whoever is behind it to open it for you. ‘’Are you dressed?’’ The deep voice on the other side muttered.

‘’Yes.’’ As soon as you voiced your reply, the door swung open, this time a boxy smile adorning the butlers face instead of the crooked one you’d almost gotten used to. It was nice to see he had any other expression than a gloomy one.

You were guided downstairs to the dining hall. As soon as you entered through the two large doors, you felt so incredibly small. You jumped when the doors were slammed shut behind you, and a sudden hand gently placed on your lower back to usher you to your seat.

Jungkook crooked his eyebrow at the butler's daring move and gave him a warning glare as he pushed your seat in behind you.

‘’Welcome, Y/N.’’ Jungkook clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward as his eyes roamed down the outfit you’d put on… The attire he’d chosen especially for you. His gaze landed on the small bracelet on your wrist, the silver bird dangle beautifully decorating you like a piece of art.

‘’Thank you..’’ You replied, a bit unsure of this situation. But you decided to enjoy it. Why not? It’s not everyday that you’d get to dine with royalty. All this food smelled heavenly. Jungkook snapped his fingers, and on cue the butler poured your wine, while the maid put food on your plates. When he was satisfied, he told them to leave the room and wait outside.

Jungkook wanted utter privacy with you.

‘’What do you think of this?’’ Jungkook asked, gesturing around the room; but he meant everything. The castle.

‘’It’s divine,’’ You answered truthfully as you sipped your wine to wash down the food, ‘’Is it just you here?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ He nodded, a small smile on his lips. It almost looked sad, ‘’If you don’t count my servants.’’

The dinner was pleasant, surprisingly. There wasn’t much conversation, but a simple comfortable silence with the occasional comment about the delicious cuisines that were offered. While you were gazing around the room, chewing your food in content, Jungkook’s eyes were completely transfixed on you. The way your nose scrunched slightly from the bitter aftertaste of the wine. The way you continuously placed strands of your hair behind your ear, to just how enchanting you looked in the attire he’d dressed you in.

He felt lucky that he found you. Or rather, you found him. It couldn’t be anything but fate. Jungkook believed it. He stayed this way for a while, enjoying the silent admiration he was giving you. He hadn’t had this kind of company… Ever. It was new, and he didn’t want to let it go. Suddenly the silence felt suffocating.

‘’Sing for me.’’ Jungkook asked softly, swirling the wine glass in his hand. His eyes followed the flow of the liquid for a second before shifting his piercing gaze to your face.

You stopped yourself from questioning him, knowing he knows that you heard him the first time. But that didn’t mean your eyebrows weren’t raised in surprise. ‘’Okay.’’ After all, he had told you that he wanted to hear you sing one more time.

Jungkook’s doe eyes sparkled in awe as he leaned back in his chair, completely forgetting about the glass in his hand. He couldn’t even think, just listen-- and stare at you the second you got up from your chair and sing. The way your lips moved with every word, his eyes followed. The small gestures of your hands made him want to hold them. And the brightness in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, had his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

This is it. She’s the one.

While you sang, he’d slowly gotten up from his seat, placing the glass on the table to leave it behind. Approaching you, his hands reached out to grab your wrist and pull you close to his chest. Your singing stopped with a surprised yelp, staring at the little bracelet he was observing as he held your wrist up for the two of you to view.

‘’You know what this is?’’ He asked, grasping the little dangle decoration between his thumb and index finger.

‘’A dove?’’ You said, a bit confused as to what he meant. It was obviously a dove.

‘’Correct,’’ He chuckled, the endearing smile of his growing, ‘’A symbol of peace.’’ A piece of peace in Jungkook’s world.

You hum in agreement, still not sure what he’s implying. Trying to pull your wrist away, he willingly let go, but replaced the empty spot in his palm by placing it on your waist. This was awfully close, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

‘’I-- thank you for the dinner… But, I should really get going now.’’ You glanced towards the window, seeing the sun shining bright, ‘’The storm has passed.’’

Jungkook’s smile faltered at your words, slowly morphing into a frown when you stepped away from his grasp. His hands fell to his sides, looking at you as if you had just torn his heart out of his chest. But you didn’t notice. ‘’Don’t leave.’’

You were on your way to the door, hand grasping the handle before his words stopped you, causing you to look over your shoulder at the prince. Silence filled the room, and the air grew thicker.

‘’I have to leave. I can’t stay here. I need to go home.’’

Jungkook sighed, clenching his jaw as he stared at the floor. He almost looked like a child throwing a tantrum when they didn’t get what they wished for. ‘’You can’t.’’ He murmured.

‘’Watch me.’’ You huffed, jerking the door open before stepping out into the grand hall, striding towards the door with a made up mind. You were going home, you shouldn’t get used to this lifestyle. It was only for one night. You made it to the grand entrance, pushing with your entire body strength and pulling at the handle-- but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Your eyes searched for a way to unlock it, you were inside of the building after all. Why couldn’t you open it?

‘’Y/N..’’ Jungkook startled you, appearing behind you so suddenly. His voice was calm, arms crossed over his chest. A concerned look played on his face.

‘’Why is the door locked?’’ You asked, confusion obvious in your expression as you let go of the handle to turn to him.

‘’I told you, you can’t leave.’’ He sighed, clacking his tongue in annoyance. Why didn’t you get it?

‘’Why?’’

‘’I want you to stay… Be my little bird.’’

‘’What… what do you mean ‘little bird’?’’

‘’Sing for me, always.’’ The look in his eye was serious, yet gentle. He stepped closer, reaching out to delicately take your hands in his own, ‘’I will take care of you, everything you need is right here. Anything you want. Just please be mine.’’

Your mouth fell open, unable to speak or think of any witty comment to counter with. His words were sincere, the vulnerability in his expression along with his delicate touch had your heart skip a beat.. Or stop completely-- you weren’t sure. The logic in you told you no, this couldn’t be. He couldn’t love you this quickly, and neither could you. But your heart pumped these new emotions throughout your body, clouding any sense of what should and shouldn’t-- any logic thrown out the window. A part of you that grew with every second spent drowning in his dark eyes, your body decided to make the decision for you with a vague nod.

‘’Say it.’’ Jungkook urged, his eyes sparkling with a layer of tears. Were they happy? Sad? Maybe both. He wanted to hear your sweet voice confirm, his own chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He squeezed your hands in his, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

‘’I… I can’t say that yet.. I’m sorry.’’ You whispered, and you swore you could hear his heart audibly crack. But it was okay, he mused. You didn’t reject him-- but you didn’t accept him in your heart yet. All you needed was time.

‘’Y/N…’’ Jungkook pulled you closer to his chest, brushing your hair away from your face. As he spoke, his warm comforting breath fanned your lips, ‘’It’s okay, you don’t have to say it yet. Just… Stay with me.’’

You nodded, feeling your own eyes sting with the tears building up from his heavy emotions rubbing off on you. He smiled softly, palm carefully placed on your cheek to draw you in, closing the distance between your lips in a sweet kiss.

All he needed was patience.

~ ~ ~

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months spent in his castle. You hadn’t taken a single step outside since that stormy night, and it was as if you’d forgotten what grass felt like underneath your feet. However, the times he allowed you to sit with him on his balcony, the warm sun and chill breeze would bring you enough peace to satiate your need for the freedom you were robbed of.

It was complicated, the way you felt. Spending every single day with the prince, you’d gradually fallen for him, and become close enough for you to even start calling him by his first name. He spoiled you with everything you could ever want; clothes, jewelry, endless amounts of books and pretty things, flowers. He showered you in his affection, a large smile constantly on his face whenever he gave, gave and gave to you. He saw how you slowly opened up to him, and it made him so happy; nobody had ever seen the lonely prince this way before.

But at times when he wasn't home, out attending to his duties, you suddenly felt lonely. You had time to think about everything, and it scared you how much you missed Jungkook. However, what you had started to miss even more was your freedom… The life you had before you met the prince.

It was clear that you weren’t allowed to leave, every window was barred, and every door was locked. It was impossible. No matter, because at this point you were scared to live without him. You couldn’t.

So you opted for the one thing you knew, the one thing you had that was in your control.

You stood by your window, watching the birds chirp and fly by, feeling the warmth of the sun rays beaming at your skin in stripes through the bars. You sang your heart out.

In the beginning, your singing was bright and full of life, proud of how Jungkook admired your voice.

But lately, your tune was laced with melancholy.

~ ~ ~

Jungkook heard your voice as he strode through the hallway, feeling his heart jump at the beautiful sound. Lately, your voice had gotten more and more bewitching. He was obsessed with the sadness in your vocals. He carefully peeked in through the crack of the door as he opened it, and the sight before him was breathtaking. You looked like a goddess with the sun glowing on your skin, eyes closed as you were completely indulged in your song.

He loved you so much, nothing or nobody could ever compare, nor could anybody intervene. You were his, kept safe in this castle for the rest of your life.

After a long moment of admiring you, Jungkook finally opened the door to step inside, quietly strolling over to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his hands settle on your stomach as he pressed his chest against your back, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. Your singing ceased, eyes widening in surprise at his sudden appearance. Just as quickly as your body tensed up, it relaxed in his embrace.

“You sing so pretty, my little dove,” he cooed into your ear as he held you tight. His hands splayed against your stomach and rubbed gently, carefully and slowly moving upwards. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt your body tingle with a mixture of fright and excitement, warmth blooming where his hands trailed.

Jungkook turned you in his arms, pressed his chest against yours as his fingers caressed the side of your delicate face, a loving smile on his lips. He moved slowly, with intention, towards the plush bed behind you. His eyes never left yours, peering into them as if he could see your inner most desires. It made your body feel engulfed in flame.

“Please, let me have you,” the prince asked. His voice was sweet, pleading and desperate. He guided you towards the bed and the press of the firm mattress behind your knees made you fall with a soft gasp escaping your lips. “I need you, my love. I need to taste you, please.”

You found it hard to say no, hard to say anything at all despite the warnings sounding in your head. As confused by him and this entire situation as you were, you couldn’t help the magnetic pull you felt when he held you close, or the way your heart throbbed when he was around.

“Y-yes,” you replied, voice timid.

His body hovered over you, lips inches from your own and you felt your body press further and further into the bed as he encroached over you.

“Yes, what, little bird?” He asked. His voice was light—sensitive and loving. His eyes spoke volumes. He looked at you as if he wanted to claim every inch of you, make you his physically and emotionally for the rest of his life.

You swallowed hard as you lied down, head resting on the soft pillows, as your eyes connected with his. Any doubt had slowly left you as the warmth of his body seeped into your clothes and into your very core. It felt like a fire was building, growing larger and more intense, in the center of your thighs.

“Yes, please,” you whispered.

Your answer pleased the prince—he moved down further until his lips connected with yours. His hips pressed into your own and you could feel his hard length against you—making you gasp into his kiss.

It spurred Jungkook on, his tongue taking advantage and sliding into your open mouth to caress and lick at your own tongue. He moaned lightly at the taste of you, so sweet and perfect—just like you. He wanted to taste it for the rest of his life, have the sweet essence of you on his tongue every single night. He was sure if your mouth tasted so sweet, your drenched folds would taste even better.

“Let me see you,” he whispered as he pulled away from your honeyed lips. “Please.”

His voice was so desperate--so full of love and desire for you that the fire within you blazed higher. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the prince at all, and you found yourself wondering why you ever resisted in the first place.

After receiving your consent in the form of a nod, Jungkook pushed the fabric of your dress up from your thighs. His strong hands smoothed over the soft, plush skin and you shivered at the feeling of his warmth that lingered where he touched. He continued pushing the dress up until it exposed your stomach and core to him.

His eyes explored every inch of your body. He was mesmerized by the way your stomach curved and your hips swelled. Your body was finer than any of the paintings in his castle, more valuable than the jewels glittering in his reserves. His breath came out heavier as his vision trailed to the linen of your panties, the very ones he provided for you. Jungkook loved the way you looked in the clothes he picked especially for you--his gorgeous, little songbird.

Your hands clutched at the bunched material of your dress and you desperately sought to take it off, expose yourself fully to the handsome prince above you. Your body squirmed as he continued drinking you in, hurrying to take the rest of the fine dress off your body. Jungkook noticed your discomfort, and moved to help you pull the dress up and over your head. The gesture was sweet, so sweet it felt like an ache in your heart and your core.

Jungkook threw the garment aside, no care for the price or quality of the dress. His only care was you, now nearly naked and pliant underneath him. If he thought the hills and valleys of your thighs were mesmerizing, he was wholly unprepared for the sight of your breasts.

He could feel his mouth drying up as he watched your nipples prickle in the chill of the castle’s air. He was sure he stopped breathing as he watched your chest rise and fall with each deliberate breath you brought in and expelled. He felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to moisten his lips, eyes glued to the pretty pink nubs of your breasts.

“My dove,” he gasped.

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown with a mixture of anxiety and lust, and your hands sought to grab at the cloth of his shirt.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whined softly. Being so exposed, so vulnerable to the man above you made you needier by the second. You were sure you couldn’t stand another minute under his intense gaze without him touching you somewhere, anywhere.

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed at the sound of his name rolling off your sweet tongue. He felt his body nearly tremble, and he knew he needed to hear it for the rest of his life. There was no way he could let you go now, now that he would have you fully.

“What do you need, my love?” He asked as he smoothed a hand over your delicate stomach and up towards your ribs. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”

Your back arched off the bed as his warm hand pursued up your body until it summited the crest of your breast. He marveled at the way his hands fit over the soft globes, and how perfectly they fit in his palms. He knew you were made for him--that you were the only one meant to be with him. Everything about you reminded him that you were made for him.

His fingers pinched at a nipple and he sighed as he heard your soft, gentle squeak at the pinch. His stomach tightened painfully, and his cock strained hard against the linen of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself between your plush thighs, but he knew he needed to to worship you, to make you feel like the princess you would soon become.

In one swift movement, his head bowed down piously to pull a nipple into his mouth while his fingers maintained pressure on the other. He moaned around the bud in his lips, the way it felt against his tongue and the sweet flavor of your skin. Your keening gasps and sighs encouraged him, making him suck the nub in further and tongue swirl around it.

Your body felt grazed with tiny pinpricks of pleasure, electrifying you down to your veins. You have never felt such pleasure in your life, never knowing the touch of a man. But you’re sure that no man could compare to the way the prince felt above you, pressing his worshipful kisses to your breasts.

Jungkook switched to your other breast, frenzied to taste and consume you--every last inch. He fervidly licked at your prickled nub before he pulled it into his mouth and allowed his tongue to explore and pleasure it.

“J-Jungkook!” You gasped at the feeling. His other hand rubbed and pinched at your abused nipple so well it made your legs tremble.

He popped off your breasts but maintained his grip on you with his hands, a toothy smile brightening his features as he peered at you.

“Yes, my dove?” He asked as innocently as he could. He knew this action was driving you mad. He could tell by the way your hips bucked and swayed that your channel would be slick and burning with desire by now.

“More, please,” you begged. “I need you to take me.”

Jungkook kissed his way down your sternum, lavishing kisses at your navel and skin of your thighs. He wanted no part of you left untouched, unclaimed by him. He meant to have you in every sense of the word. The prince was determined to ensure every single part of you was conquered by him, and him only.

Jungkook was eager to get the remaining fabric off you. His deft fingers swiped at your covered slit, smiling as he felt the wetness pooling there. He hummed deep in his throat as he made himself comfortable between your thighs. Jungkook noticed how comfortable, how natural it felt to be between your thick thighs. He wanted to leave marks all over them, physical reminders of his claim of you.

You stirred gently, awkwardly, at the intense gaze that the prince was holding with your barely covered decency. His stare was intense--it fanned the flames within you, making them lick hotly at every inch of your being.

Jungkook tugged at the thin fabric between your thighs, pulling it down your legs gently, as if he was unwrapping the finest and most delicate china. His breath caught in his throat as he threw them to the side and your centre became exposed to him. You bloomed below him like the most beautiful rose, petals opening and slick with arousal. His tongue sought out of his mouth, anxious for a taste of what he was sure to be the most delicious nectar.

“My beautiful,” he sighed as his hands pressed your legs further apart. You whimpered gently, the feeling of the cold air rolling over your heated body was nearly driving you insane. Jungkook stared at you as if you were his final, mortal meal. Jungkook nearly salivated at the sound and the way your legs trembled with need--...need for him.

His face inched closer and close, desperate to be buried face first in your pretty cunt, but careful not to scare you. Jungkook loved you, passionately and desperately, and he quaked at the thought of terrifying you further. You were his little dove--you needed to be loved slowly, gently.

“I want to taste you, my love,” he murmured as his face settled centimeters from your exposed folds. “Please, will you let me have you?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were wide with arousal. The growing ache and need for him was surging through your veins swiftly, swirling in your mind and clouding any thought that wasn’t the handsome prince, and the way his hands and body felt against yours. All you could think, all you could comprehend was him--only him.

Your head nodded quickly in reply. “Yes, please, sir.”

Jungkook stifled a groan at the sound of the honorific leaving you. His spine tingled and he nearly lost all resolve to remain composed. You drove him mad, and it took all he had to not claim you fully and deeply there, now.

With a gentle kiss to each side of your luscious thighs, Jungkook worshiped each inch of your skin as he worked towards the apex. He let the sounds of your pleasured sighs and keening gasps roll over him like fine silk. As he reached your center, he gently bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss to your clit, before allowing his tongue to dart out and taste a droplet of your slick.

He pulled his head back and closed his eyes in bliss as the flavor blossomed on his tongue. You tasted so sweet, and earthy. Like a mulled wine, sweet and honeyed and intoxicating.

“Perfect,” he admired as he lowered his head back down. “I knew you’d taste so sweet, so perfect.”

Jungkook eagerly got to work now, tongue gently caressing the nub of nerves that had your legs quaking at each tender lick. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, succumbed to his desire and pliant underneath him. He wished to be buried in your sweet cunt for ever, both mouth and cock. He knew now, irrevocably, he would never be able to live without you.

He drank from you as if you were the last fountain on earth, the only source of his hydration. His tongue worked eagerly, dipping into the pools of your tight heat and licking up the sweet wetness that pooled. He couldn’t fathom how one little angel could taste so sweet, feel so good against his tongue.

Your sweet sighs and moans spurred him on. Your legs trembled gently and with each caress of his tongue on your nub, your sounds only increased in volume and in need. The prince was eager to get you to your high, make you feel euphoria caused by him and him only.

Your legs quivered and you gasped his name, and he couldn’t help but smile. A finger slid into your walls, coaxing your climax with each curl and press of his finger against the tender spot inside you. It made you nearly scream with how delicious it felt, and Jungkook knew you were near the end. He increased his pressure and speed of his tongue, and curled another finger inside of you.

“Cum for me, my love,” he encouraged between licks. “Let me taste you.”

You were no match for him and his words, dripping in unadulterated love and need. His eyes connected with yours and your climax washed over you swiftly. Your back arched and hips squirmed as your walls fluttered and milked his fingers, begging for more--so much more.

Jungkook fervidly licked at the juices that slowly trickled down his fingers from within you, cleaning his hand as he let it slide from within you.

“My little dove,” he sighed. “You taste so sweet when you cum for me.”

Your breaths came out hard, as if your lungs hadn’t worked for hours. You inhaled sharply as you watched him continue to devour the juices on his hands and you felt your spine tingle in response.

Jungkook’s hard length was hard against his trousers and you were desperate now to have the man buried inside you.

“Jungkook, please,” you gasped, hands reaching for the man who now sat above you. “Please, take me.”

The prince’s heart nearly melted to the floor of the castle at your desperate plea. You were his, you knew now that you were his. He made quick work of the cotton trousers and shirt, tearing them off his body until he was just as naked as you. He knew this is how he wanted to be, always. No clothes, no barriers, nothing to stand in between him and you, his perfect little dove.

“I’m here,” he soothed as he pressed his lips to yours. “Let me take care of you, my princess.”

He easily lined himself up with your heat, rubbing the bulbous head against the slick and nearly entering when you swiftly grabbed his arms and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, shame coloring your cheeks. “Please… please don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook stopped breathing, the world stopped turning. He couldn’t believe his luck--his dove, his princess... all his. You would become his in every sense of the word. He will have what no man has ever had before, and never get the chance to take. He kissed at your lips gently and nodded.

“I’d rather cut off my own hand than hurt you even once.”

Your eyes softened, soothed by his words and actions, and you nodded gently.

“Take me, Jungkook.” Your words were brave, and ready. Jungkook felt his cock twitch with excitement, and he pressed one final kiss to your lips as he lined himself up and pushed in gently.

Jungkook pulled away from your lips to gasp. Never had he felt such incredible, tight heat. He could tell by the scrunch of your features that you were adjusting to his thick length. Despite your first climax, your body still resisted the press of his cock inside you. It felt like scorching wet heat and the tightness alone nearly made the prince cum as he bottomed out.

He remained still within you as your body relaxed. His hands rubbed gently at your hips and thighs, caressing them sweetly as he whispered his praise to you.

“You took me so well,” he murmured. “My little dove, so good for me. You’re doing so well.”

You whimpered out in need, desire for him to move inside you. The pain melted away to pleasure quickly, and you’re thankful he spent so much time preparing you with his mouth and fingers. The tender care the Prince showered on you made your heart beat rapidly against your chest, working over time like the beat of a bird’s.

“Are you ready, my sweet?” He asked. He could feel his cock ache with the need to set a pace, to feel the way your walls stroke him, but he would not allow himself such pleasure without your word.

“Take me, Jungkook, I’m yours.”

He moaned loudly, allowing the possessiveness of your voice to spur him to begin.

He started his movements slow and with intention. Each drag out and thrust in, he monitored your face for any sign of displeasure. When all that crossed your features was blissful pleasure, he moved faster.

Your body relaxed ten-fold as the man above you began to drill harder into you. The pain of the stretch was nearly gone by now, replaced only by a sizzling bliss that had your mouth gaping open and begging for more. Sweat began to gather at the prince’s brow and you’re taken by how handsome he is, how truly carnal he looks as he pounds into you with no abandon.

Your walls accommodate him perfectly, gripping him tight while still allowing passage. Jungkook felt as if your very cunt was made for him, molded to be his exact match. He could feel himself nearing closer and closer to the edge of bliss--climbing so high to the peaks of climax.

Your body was racked with pleasure. It poured out of your body in sweet sighs and torrential trembles. With each delicious push and pull of his cock within you, the fire grew and grew. It swirled around your body, clawed at your neck and clouded your mind with smoke. All you knew was Jungkook, his thick length, his warm body, and the way his eyes burned holes into yours. Each thrust sent you so much closer to another dizzying peak and your fingers gripped at his arms tighter.

He could tell by the rapture on your face that you were close--could feel it in the fluttering of your walls.

“Cum for me,” he groaned. “Let go, little dove. Let me feel you.”

You whimpered needily, groaning as the prince continued to thrust into you at a turbulent speed. He licked his thumb before allowing it to circle your clit, the bundle of nerves nearly screaming to life as he stimulated it.

Jungkook licked his lips as he watched your body come nearly undone at his touch. He could feel the way his body was building and climbing towards a grand finish, one he wanted to bury deep inside you.

“G-going to cum,” he groaned as he increased his strokes. ‘’I will fill you so well, you feel so good..’’

Never had you felt closer to another person, another man. Jungkook was truly the only one in the world for you, and you could never stray away. His hands gripped you tight and possessively as he powered his way to his finish.

“P-please!” You gasped as your vision started to dot with black spots. You couldn’t speak, breath overtaken by gasps and whimpers of need, as your body finally peaked at it’s high. Your moans were loud as you soared into the blissful pool that only Jungkook had ever taken you to. Your walls contracted around him tightly, squeezing and coaxing his cock to release his own pleasure inside you.

Jungkook lasted mere seconds after feeling youl grip him so tightly, and hearing your sweet dulcet voice sing praises and whines. His cock pulsed as he emptied himself into you, hot cum painting your sweet walls and pooling in your womb.

A long moment followed where Jungkook was just.. staring down at your exhausted form from above. His overgrown fringe clung to his clammy skin, lips swollen from biting down on them more often than not, and chest heaving up and down as he emotionally gathered himself back into one piece after shattering for you.

‘‘My love,’’ He whispered as he leaned down over you once more, sweaty skin sticking together. But no matter, he wouldn’t want you any other way right this moment. He gently moved his lips against yours, all while still keeping himself deep inside of you, making sure nothing would be spilled to waste, ‘‘My beautiful Y/N.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips when he calls you by your first name. You reach out to brush his fringe away from his forehead, combing his dark, soft locks with your fingers, ‘’My dear Jungkook.’’

Jungkook’s heart almost stopped. You’d said a lot of things, you’d even given him your body. But you had never, ever had referred to him with any term of endearment until now. It was always his name, or his title.

‘‘What did you just say?’’ He asked, one hand cupping your face gently to guide your eyes to meet his own. He looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but if you tried to name them, it’d be a mix of confusion, joy, and relief.

‘‘My dear,’‘ You paused to place your hand on top of his, leaning your cheek into his palm further, ‘‘Jungkook.’‘

Jungkook’s hot breath fanned your lips as he sighed in content, eyes still fixed on you. He kissed you once, softly, before pulling back to look at you again.

‘‘Please say it now’’ He asked quietly. The hint of sadness and desperation wasn’t evident in his voice, however, his eyes didn’t lie. They were wide, intensely focused on your every single reaction as he anticipated your answer, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

You were already his in every sense of the word, except one. He needed you to say it yourself.

And who were you to resist the prince?

‘‘I’ll be yours.’‘ You finally broke the silence. Jungkook’s eyes flickered between yours with his doe ones, desperately trying to find any sign of lies. But instead, all he could see was utter affection, and your truthful words finally sank in.

‘’Be my wife.’‘ Jungkook continued, leaning his forehead against yours, ‘‘I love you. I promise to always love you. Nobody else will be able to take care of you the way I can.’‘

You nod, a quiet ‘yes’ leaving your lips before you crane your neck to kiss him. You might’ve been confused, frightened, and even sad at times-- but now? You were happy.

Happy to belong to the prince.

Jungkook smiles against your lips, he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have found you.

Or rather, you had found him.

Either way, it couldn’t have been anything but fate. And.. Jungkook believed in that.

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liitlesunshiine · 3 years

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High on the clock

Quirkless AU - Toya Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, drug use, anxiety, panic attack mention, suggestive themes, slight sexual themes

A fun light hearted fic. Definitely enjoyed writing this piece so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. ^.^ It’s flirty n cute n Toya is a total bae. <3

You and Toya are coworkers who try making the most out of your shitty job.

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“Goddd this place fuckin blows.” You groaned in frustration sitting across Toya.

“As if I didn’t know that already,” he sleeplishly replied.

You never intended on working in this shit show of a store for as long as you have but yet, here you were two wasted years later. You had high hopes after graduation but it seems no job wants to hire someone with no experience and you can’t get any experience since you can’t get an actual job that’ll provide it. So it’s forced you in this sort of awkward limbo and vicious cycle of going back and forth. You’ve been stuck wearing this shitty bright uniform with a barely livable wage and terrible hours. Miserable every second of the day, with the constant guilt eating at you for being so complacent.

Of course there were a few exceptions.

Of course… Like the highly attractive coworker you spent most of your time here with. Days spent with Toya were significantly better than the days spent without Toya. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as you had here. Because man, when days were good they were ok, but when the days were bad, they were really fucking bad. Some in which you were ready to burn down everyone and everything yet the sweet, hot, god-like Toya would make you melt with his cute quirky smile and meet your eyes with his own that you would absolutely drown in and next thing you know, you had completely forgotten about what you were upset over. Now, it’s just a bonus that he meets your sarcasm with his own, the both of you have always had this flirty like atmosphere that neither of you are willing to acknowledge but low key kinda know there’s an underlying sexual tension there. It was strange how well you both got along, the average onlooker would assume nothing more than a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship but it was really just mutual likability and connection between the two of you. Days with Toya were simply good days. And you were absolutely grateful for someone like him because god knows how terrible it’d really be here without him.

“Why don’t we make this night a bit memorable,” Toya who was right next to you behind the counter, gives you a side wink and unzips the company jacket to reveal a small ziplock within the pocket. Andddddd long behold it’s weed! You chuckle to yourself, never getting tired of Toya’s shenanigans. Very much appreciated as he’s best form of entertainment here.

“Toya we almost got caught last time, you really wanna risk it again?” Your words ran on deaf ears as he was already rolling up the blunt underneath the counter, “what’s the worst they can do? Fire us?” You stopped for a second and nodded, well he wasn’t wrong. Maybe this was the push you needed to finally leave this shit hole. “You got a point, let’s do it quick before someone comes in.”

While this is a 24 hour convenience store, usually pass 1am, rarely anyone is inside. So you suppose it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. Plus with Toya your bound to have a good time, who are you to deny him. You trusted in him enough to get away with his bs.

“Pass the lighter doll,” you fished for the lighter that was nicely decorated with little blue flames over in your small book bag and passed it to him. He holds the blunt between his two hands and you duck underneath the counter with him. “Ladies first,” he cockily said, you lean forward and placed your mouth on the blunt while he held it for you. He always did this and it always felt oddly intimate to you. Couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest taking over when his glass like eyes gazed over you. They always made you curious and somehow hungry for knowledge of his life. You’ve never knew someone so well yet know nothing of them, but that’s always been enigma of Touya. You exhaled closing your eyes, attempting to calm your nerves. “You know the only time I ever smoke is on the job with you.” He smirked bringing the blunt to his own lips, “guess I’m a bad influence then.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Everyone needs a lil spice in their life, no?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. You gently grabbed his wrist and led the blunt back to your lips again, he stared quietly at you. Which oddly made you tense up. “Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled.

“Like what?” He smiled.

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world that you can’t live without.” Now you both laughed. This was the usual routine with Toya; cracking jokes and talking shit for a bit and simply enjoying each other’s company while the store was empty. He finally broke the trance you were in when he spoke up.

“You know, having my father kick me out of the house wasn’t so bad after all,” Toya leaned in.

You looked at him with a puzzled look, he never brings up his father. Whenever the conversation appeared it was quickly diverted elsewhere. You didn’t want to poke or intrude but curiosity got the best of you and you couldn’t help but want to continue the conversation. “Yea? Why is that?” You wondered. His father, from what you’ve been able to gather with the little bits Toya has mentioned here and there, was that supposedly his father is some CEO to a multi million dollar company. Odd considering the likes to where Toya ended up but you concluded that they must’ve ended in bad terms. You understood how cruel and selfish parents can be and didn’t need further explanation on that part. Easy to assume considering how poorly and little he speaks of him. He shut your ideas off with his simple response.

“I wouldn’t be smoking a blunt with the world’s most beautiful girl under this shitty counter, if it weren’t for it.” Ha, that definitely caught you off guard, causing a light blush to form across your face. Even with a seeming sensitive topic he still manages to tease you. He’s got that cheeky smile plastered all over, “Got you choked up doll?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to tell him off before the door rang indicating that someone has entered the store. You snapped out of the haze and immediately got up to quickly realize that the person who entered was one of the regional managers, oh fuck. You nearly froze in fear and kicked Toya under the counter. “Ow the fuck was that for?” He looked at you while soothing the kick you just gave him but upon looking at your panicked expression and frenzied body, he quickly crushed the blunt and shoved it back inside the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t need to be told or explained which you greatly appreciated at the moment. Toya was always able to read the room, bless his soul. He clumsily got back up to which you had fixed his crooked hat and whispered into his ear to tuck his shirt in while covering him slightly to do so.

“Hi-ya hello, good afternoon, I mean good evening sir.” You embarrassedly stumbled over your words to which Toya snickered at. You kicked him again harder this time as discreetly as you could. On the verge of a panic attack. He gripped tightly at the counter, smiling at the man in front of you both. Hissing silently at the pain your kick caused him. He gave you a quick side eye nodding his head in disapproval. Which somehow made you feel drastically worse.

“Good evening to you both, I’m sure you know who I am.”

You responded a bit too hastily looking like a rabid chihuahua. “Yes! Yea. Of course we do, how are you? What brings you in at this time? It’s so late.” You manage to say within 2.0 seconds, the automatic robotic customer service attitude overtaking your body. Well- at least trying to considering you just had a 30-minute smoke sesh under the counter and your mind is desperately trying to sober up. Honestly, what the fuck was he doing here at this time? This has never happened and I mean out of all the hours of the day. Oh yea, you’re definitely getting fucked, the smell of weed was so pungent, it was literally embarrassing how bad the situation looks. You wanted to cry. Toya’s eyes were stained red and you only assumed yours look worse.

“Gotten a few complaints about this store recently. Wanted to come in and take a look.” You began to get a cold sweat, oh shit he knows, he definitely knows. You had words lodged in your throat that couldn’t come out. What could you say? What can you say? You’re in the wrong here. Everyone knows that smoking weed with your cool and kinda hot coworker under the counter is definitely not ok. Maybe even illegal, oh god what if this gets on your record. You’ll definitely not be able to get a professional job, then you’ll really get stuck working a even shitter job than this. Oh good oh god oh my god.

As if sensing the absolute panic and anxiety off of you, Toya gently caressed your arm motioning you to relax and to stay silent. You recognized the wave that washed over him and instantly knew he’d handle the situation, he always does. And if you could die in his arms right now, you’d accept your fate happily. Toya was an interesting man oh right, you always believed he held such potential to do great things and even change the world. It doesn’t make sense really considering you both work at a basic job but you had come to secretly admire the guy. You’d would tell him too, how you believed in him, how you had so much confidence for him to become something great but he would always shut it down and brush it off like it was nothing. It was as if he didn’t think he was good enough. It always bugged you that he thought so little of himself, but seeing him now causally and confidently bullshit the regional manager out of your current situation just simply reminded you of how special he was to you. Definitely got your pussy wet and made you eternally grateful too.

Toya was standing in front of the counter, making hand gestures while the manager just stared analyzing his words. You were completely z0ned out, only able to get parts of the conversation.

“We’ve been having this customer appear at the store over and over again around this time of night harassing me and Y/N. We’ve considered calling the cops since he’s always high off his mind, we’ve caught him smoking in the bathroom on multiple occasions too. He was in here about 15 minutes ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the smell.”

Ah the beautiful lies that slipped through Toya’s lips sounded like a symphony. It was nothing short of comedic and yet so fucking Oscar-worthy. You could definitely pay this man to tell you lies he with how effortlessly convincing he was. You couldn’t even care to listen to what the manager was responding with, but on his way out he waved at you wishing you a goodnight and you sighed out with relief.

Toya turns to you clasping his hands together “well there’s gonna be a security guard here for the next two weeks.” You laughed “I guess that’s better than getting fired huh.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he chuckled. “I texted Shigs to come and take over the rest of our shift.”

You looked at him confused, “how come? Either way, do you think he’ll be ok alone here?”

Toya slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back to you “yea he doesn’t give a fuck. Besides you look pale fucking white, guess this guy sobered your ass up real quick.”

You attempted to glare angrily at him but it came off as a soft puppy look. You had no energy nor the strength to pretend. It feels like you just got whiplash from the rollercoaster you were on. Figured it was no use in lying considering you looked like you just went through it. “Yea, I still feel high as shit, I just wanna go home already, only thing this guy gave me was a fat fucking headache.”

He ruffled the top of your head, “awe poor baby,” he said in a teasing tone, he inched up right beside you, “I got something that can help with that.” You jokingly pushed him off you, tying to ignore the warm feeling pooling under your stomach. Your mind was definitely thinking something dirty with a million miles per second and with how he handled today’s situation you’d be more than willing to give him whatever he pleased, but you pretended to cast aside those intrusive thoughts and act unfazed. “Shit don’t tell me you got Advil on you too?”

He chuckled lightly nodding is head down, “got something even better doll.” He scoots up next to you and grabs a bottle of excedrin underneath the counter, passing it to you. You excitedly open it taking two pills out “oh my god I didn’t know we had some underneath here, yes thank you. You're definitely my hero today Toya.” As if y’all didn’t work in a convenience store that had if not all types of medicines. It was the effort that made it special though, it’s what brought that bright goofy smile of yours to light.

You weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks while you swallowed the two pills. “Yea I remember you telling me you get headaches n shit and I know this medicine helps with it.” He was scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He never really handles compliments well but you tippy toed over to him and wrapped your arms softly around his neck. “I appreciate it Toya, that was really thoughtful. Thank you.”

If you didn’t see his previous blush you definitely noticed this one, which in turn lead you to blush. But you couldn’t miss this opportunity- “AWE is lil Toya blushing. So cute brings me back to my middle school days.” That caused a loud laugh to come out of you both. “Shut it.” he quickly and quietly said.

“Am I interrupting something.” You and Toya quickly untangled from each other trying to play off the slight tension in the air.

“Errrr um.. Hey Shiggy, thanks for uh coming in.” You awkwardly stumbled, you never really got along with him so there was always this weird loud silence between the both of you. He already seemed to be annoyed, per usual. The sloppy blue hair all tangled looking greasy and his patchy skin looking irritated and flaky as usual. He definitely was not amused or happy to be here. Well when was her ever. You’ve yet to seen the man smile.

“Whatever.” He takes a sip from his metal bottle and walks over to the counter.

“Shiggy you the man, thanks for pulling up bud.” Toya pats him in the back and Shigaraki shuttered. “Don’t touch me,” he flatly said. He glared at you both.

“You guys can go leave and fuck now.” The words caught you instantly by surprise and you got completely red. “That’s not what were gonn- ugh whatever like it matters.” With that, you and Toya clock out and leave the store with Shigaraki sending daggers at your back.

“He’s always acting like such a bitch.” You annoyingly complained.

Toya puts his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him “he ain’t so bad when you get to know him.”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes, you didn’t really care. You were more relieved to have finally left. He can rot in the store by himself for all you care. Not you or Toga would miss him.

“So,” Toya glided with his words, itching you closer to him. He was leading the way in this position with you happily following. Not knowing the destination but feeling completely at peace with his form completely snug at your side. You comfortably wrapped your arm around his waist and gently placed your head in the crook of his neck. This was nice you thought, you and Toya were always this intimate when alone. No hesitation or awkwardness, just simply holding hands and sharing body heat as friends with the underlying passion waiting to burst and to be acknowledged. But nothing ever felt rushed, not with Toya. You stared at him from this angle, taking in his beautiful effortless features. His lashes looked so long as you stared in slight jealousy, his hair a perfect black mess with hidden red roots if you stared long enough, and his eyes. Man, you could write poems and sing songs with how the eyes stirred up some emotion you can't quite pin down. Always causing an eruption of feelings you can barely control.

You felt the warmth from his breath when he spoke, “wanna go to back to my place and finish that blunt? Would love nothing more than to see the world’s most beautiful girl on my bed.”

You blushed and nodded looking at those piercing blue eyes once again “well, when you look at me like that I guess I can’t say no.”

Maybe this time you would finally show Toya just how special he really is to you.

#Touya x You #toya #toya todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi fic #toya smut #kinktober #mha todoroki

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loveislattes · 3 years

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Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here!

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them.

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Depression, talks of death, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, Demon!Dark, demon-like anatomy, shadow tentacles, oral (male receiving), very minor breath play, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, minor degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, primal/power play, and multiple orgasms!

A/N: Other than the kink warnings, this one is safe to read! No gore/death. No beta- there may be a few errors.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Tags: (If you want to be tagged in my writing, just let me know!)

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

@another-thirsty-blog

@hcrystal02

@just-a-little-bat

“You’re sure? The doctor is sure?” you questioned earnestly.

“Yes! Yes! They say it’s like some kind of miracle. They expect her to make a full recovery after some physical therapy. Isn’t it great, Y/N?!”

You could feel your lips twist up into a bittersweet smile as tears poured from your clenched eyes. The taste of salt was bitter on your lips as you nodded asininely into the phone.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s amazing,” you whispered, “Listen, auntie, I’ve got to get ready for work but please keep me updated if anything changes.”

The phone fell into the fluffy blankets across your lap and you let out the choked sob that you’d been holding back. Wish number four had been a success. You’d done some actual good with your imminent death.

Despite the good news, the oppressive cloud around you didn’t dissipate; Unsurprising but disappointing nonetheless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you hissed, smacking your cheeks a couple of times.

Suddenly, a terribly wonderfully awful idea popped up and there was a modicum of relief in your chest. You snagged up the coin from its perch on the bedside table and clutched it to your chest close.

“Dark, I think I know my last wish. Is it possible to wish for death?”

There was no immediate answer, nor did you die immediately. A tremor in the atmosphere of the room was the only sign that something had changed and you brought your head up in surprise. The sight of the debonair demon standing amongst your depression room instantly filled you with shame. Great. Just what you needed to be added to your already heaping pile of negative emotions.

“Hello, darling.”

You managed a weak little hello in reply as he began to stroll your way. You weren’t sure whether you should stand up to greet him or just allow him to come to you, but he quickly made that decision for you as he came to a stop at your side.

“I regret to inform you that you’ve managed to find one of the three types of wishes I’m unable to grant. Is there something els-”

“Please, Dark!”

He leveled you with narrowed eyes and stated factually, “I can’t kill you. Killing you negates the contract. That includes putting you in any imminently dangerous situations, so don’t try it.”

Finally, you found the power to stand and glared up at him through tears.

“Can’t you break the rules, just this once?! I give you permission to keep my soul after I die if you do it! I just- I can’t take this anymore! Maybe you don’t understand it because you all Mr. Powerful Demon but I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being alone! I’m tired of hurting when there’s literally nothing wrong! I’m tired of not being able to do a damn thing to make it better or change anything or- or-”

You fell into a messy pile of limbs and blankets on the bed, wrapping yourself up as best as possible, sobbing into your hands to keep a modicum of your dignity intact. Much to your surprise, you felt fingers brush against your hair as sharp nails began to massage through your strands.

“I must say, you’re definitely one of my more interesting clients,” he hummed lowly, “Even so, I’m unable to bend the rules, even for you. There’s a lot at play here that you’ll never understand but the short of it is that even I do not play with Death’s dealings, darling.”

As he spoke, you could feel the first peek of daylight glimmering through the shadows of your mind. Whether it was from his odd praise or the sensations his fingers were provoking, you weren’t sure, but it was nice. Ever so slowly, you found yourself leaning into his touch, chasing the dopamine rush he provided.

He let out a humored chuckle as you nearly fell off the bed in the pursuit and you could only manage a subdued apology in reply.

“Don’t apologize for being adorable, pet,” he teased.

Cheeks warming harshly under the sudden pet name, you buried your face in your hands and groaned slightly.

“Now that that’s sorted, I will leave you be. When you’re ready to make your last wish, you know how to reach me.”

There was a strange catch in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but it was enough to put you into action.

“Wait!” you called out when he turned away.

Carefully wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and took a steadying breath before reaching out to him. It was such a simple request but you could see the curiosity and confusion plain on his face. Nonetheless, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him in close. It had been so long since you’d even held someone else’s hand. More of the demons in the back of your mind were backing down, the sudden influx of serotonin of skin-to-skin contact turning them away.

“Okay, I get it, you can’t kill me,” you murmured, licking your lips nervously, “But you said you find me… interesting, right? Erm, do you think you would be able to do something else for me instead?”

It was like you had flipped a switch, the way his eyes clouded over with the devious smirk that curled up his lips and how his head tipped to the side in obvious inquiry.

“I’ll need you to be more clear on what you’re asking for, pretty little pet,” he cajoled, “It would be quite remiss of me to act without being completely sure what you want from me.”

Oh, the asshole! He was going to make you say it out loud! It was obvious in his gaze that he knew he had all the power here, in every sense of the word, and he was using it to his advantage… and you couldn’t deny that you loved it.

Face hot with mortification, you chewed on your lower lip before whispering, “I- I can’t. I can’t ask.”

Fangs peeked out in a grin as he leaned down, tipping your head up until you were nose to nose with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?”

Gods, he made it sound so dirty, so sensual. Shivers rolled through your bones as he teased the apex of your jaw and throat with his sharp claws.

“I need to know.”

You gathered every last drop of confidence and finally stammered out, “Fu-Fuck me, please?”

“With pleasure, darling,” he hummed softly, “But first…”

Fingers tangled in your locks once more, jerking your head back and his mouth slammed against yours. A choked sob passed from your mouth to his as he guided you back onto the bed, following with the grace and ease only an inhuman being could manage.

“If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop,” he breathed out as his lips fell to your jaw, “It’s been some time since I’ve allowed myself to indulge with a human and you are just so damn breakable.”

A sick thrill shot through your body at the warning. Why did a part of you want that? It was terrifying, thinking of a demon losing themselves and going feral on you, and yet it sounded so deliciously taboo.

“Okay,” you finally replied when you realized he was waiting for an answer, “I will.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. OH. It felt like all the air left your lungs and you couldn’t stop the tiny little noise that escaped your lips in embarrassment and desire.

His lips curved up against your throat as they slowly moved. Nibbles and kisses blazed a path up the sensitive column of your neck until teeth toyed with your ear lobe and he let out a little chuckle.

“You are going to be so much fun, pet.”

Your hands found his hair and held on for dear life as his fangs dug into your neck; not deep enough to draw blood but rough enough to tear a pained scream from your lips. Throbbing agony blossomed through your skin and still, you found your body arching into his, silently eager for more of what he could give you. Oh and the endorphin rush! The moment he released your abused flesh, it was like your body was on fire.

Moving without thought, you guided him by the hair into a frantic kiss, hoping to convey your need without words. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended by your little takeover of power and allowed you to soak in all you needed until he finally put a stop to it with a nibble on your lower lip.

“Enough, it’s time to prove that you really want this, darling,” Dark purred as his fingers dug into your cheeks symbolically.

You nodded the best you could and followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet. With a snap of his fingers, suddenly his clothes were gone and you were left staring at him in awe. While he looked incredible in the suit, it did a complete disservice to the glorious form hidden beneath. Black tattooed tendrils encircled his arms and legs, tapering out somewhere on his back, creating the most tantalizing contrast of shades against his toned limbs as he flexed them teasingly.

As your eyes traced the designs down his solid form, he suddenly gripped your shoulders and pushed you down onto your knees, tossing one of your pillows down after.

“If you’re going to worship me in such a way, you might as well do it from in your rightful place on your knees,” he purred.

Lips parting in surprise, you felt your insides curl up with embarrassment as you slipped the pillow under your knees and nearly apologized, but then he was stepping closer and you lost all thought.

Fuck, was he ever right; It was akin to staring up at a god! Not only were you given the best view of his body, but the way he stared down at you with desire and complete superiority had you trembling with need.

“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do, pet.”

Oh, that, that you could do. Scooting in closer, you reached out to grab his cock but your hand was smacked away instantly. It stung more than hurt but it was surprising nonetheless.

“What-”

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Cautiously, you did as he asked and were rewarded with a much softer smile.

“Good girl.”

Those words again. It was like they had a direct line to your cunt. Clenching needily around nothing, you let out a soft whine and let him pull you back in. As his cock neared your lips, you were finally given the chance to look it over closely. Despite being only half-hard, he appeared average length and a bit thicker than most you’d encountered. It was also darker than the rest of his skin but what set it apart the most was the ridges encircling it. Every inch or so down his cock were these ridges, smooth but creating quite an obvious size difference.

As you pondered over the way it would feel inside you, you let your tongue tentatively trace the tip and moaned at the familiar taste. He let out an encouraging sigh and tightened his hold, subtly pulling you closer until you threw away hesitation and took him in your mouth as far as possible.

“Mmmm, that’s it pet,” he praised huskily, “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Clenching your thighs in hopes of relief, you shifted higher onto your knees and followed the pace he set. Another difference you began to notice was the massive vein on the underside of his cock, the way it throbbed against your tongue with every swipe quickly became an addicting sensation. It was like his body was praising your efforts in its own way.

“Take a breath,” he warned.

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face, hastily fighting back the urge to gag as he slid into your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as saliva pooled in your mouth. You were mortified as both spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth. Embarrassing noises escaped your throat, far beyond your control with each thrust of his cock, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“Look at you,” he rumbled out huskily, “What a good little pet you are, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”

As suddenly as he had started he stopped, releasing his hold on you so fast you nearly toppled over as you coughed for breath.

“Impressive, now get up here.”

Once you felt you were stable enough, you climbed to your feet with his assistance and were immediately thrown back on the bed. As your skin rubbed against the cool sheets, you were suddenly made aware of your lack of clothes.

He apparently sensed the shock in your expression and offered you a sly grin.

“What can I say, pet? There are some things I am impatient over.”

Dark kneeled on the bed and gripped your ankles, spreading your legs so he could easily fit between them. Rather than climb over you as you had expected, he instead traced gentle lines up and down your legs, slowly bit by bit growing closer and closer to your cunt but never actually touching. It was maddening. You could feel yourself quaking and twitching uncontrollably under every pass of his claws; your silent pleas coming out louder and louder each time until you were nearly sobbing with need. Teeth soon joined in the effort, searing bite marks into the meaty parts of your thighs while his tongue lavished the wounds fondly after.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping wet for me,” he groaned quietly as he traced the crease between your sex and thigh, “Imagine what a mess you’ll be once I’m finally inside you.”

Desperation tore from your chest in the form of a whimper at the mental images burning in your mind. Your heart nearly flipped on itself in pleasure as he finally moved up the bed.

“You look like you’re struggling, darling,” he teased, “Is there something you need?”

You nodded frantically and whimpered out, “Please!”

Tantalizing shocks ran through your core as his fingers oh-so-tenderly ran over your lips, ghosting just where you needed him the most. Frustration began to well up like the sweat beading your forehead and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped.

“Tell me that you need to be used,” he breathed, ghosting sharp canines along your throat, “And I’ll give you what you want.”

“I- I need to be used,” you gasped out.

His responding moan was pure ecstasy as his fingers finally found your clit; the way his cock twitched again your leg an overwhelming aphrodisiac. The scrape of his facial hair prickled against your chest as his head ducked down and his lips pressed chaste kisses along your breasts. Swallowing hard, you bit back the overwhelming urge to demand him for more and were rewarded with the gratifying sensation of his tongue across your nipple. Pain and pleasure coalesced into one as he mercilessly sucked and bit into your flesh, drawing louder and faster moans from your chest by the second. When he finally pulled off with a pop, your entire body felt the bombardment of endorphins.

“And who do you want to use you?”

Pride shone through his playful teasing as you attempted and failed to whimper his name multiple times, ruined over and over again with each pass over your clit.

“Hmm? I can’t seem to understand you. Who do you want to ruin you?”

Thighs shaking and heart pounding, you fought through the onslaught of pleasure coiling in your belly to gasp out, “You, Dark! Please, fuck- fuck me!”

It was too much, not enough: The ache in your throat, the rawness of your lips, the imprints of his teeth burned in your flesh, the throb of your cunt under his fingers.

When he finally slipped his fingers in your core, you cried out. Relief! It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his stretching and thrusting to put you right on the edge of no return. Unfortunately, he jerked away before you could fall and, before you could even complain, you were tossed over onto your stomach with a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Perk that pretty ass up for me, pet,” he demanded, gently guiding your hips up.

As you came to rest on your knees, you let your face rest on the pillow and arched your back until you could feel his cock brush against your cunt. Instinctively you pushed back against him with a little moan and were immediately rewarded with fingers to your clit.

But… his hands were on your hips…

“How-?”

When you stilled in thought, he let out a husky chuckle behind you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he crooned lowly, “Sometimes they just have a mind of their own.”

Lifting up just enough to peek under your body, you were both startled and aroused to find black shadow-like tentacles where you expected fingers to be, and in turn, his legs were now free of those pretty tattoos. Realization hit hard and a pathetic moan fled your lips as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Glad to see you approve, darling.”

In the next breath, he slammed forward and yanked you back simultaneously. You were immensely grateful that he had taken the time to prep you as he sunk in, inch by inch, stretching you open like none ever had before. A wicked thrill sent a tremor through your body as you realized you could feel each and every ridge as it pushed into you.

When his hips finally came to a stop against yours, the noise he let out had your hair standing on end. Animalistic, inhuman, primal. You wanted to hear it time and time again.

He finally started rocking his hips, taking his time with deliciously languid strokes, until you begged him for more. It was with a cruel laugh that he gave into your desires.

“Oh fuck!” you whined, fingers snarling in the blankets for balance.

There was no more hesitation in his movements, gentleness abandoned in exchange for all-out fucking you in a way that made your toes curl and tears fill your eyes.

“You are so fucking wet,” he snarled out between breaths, “Taking me so well.”

A noise of agreement escaped your lips as you arched back to meet his thrusts. You couldn’t form words even if you wanted to, too focused on the raging storm brewing in your core.

Pain blossomed through your hip as one of his hands squeezed tighter, his growls and panting growing in volume to rival your cries, while the other found your hair and yanked your head back. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching down hard around him and startling a moan from you both.

“You feel so good! You going to come for me, pet?”

Reaching back, your hand found his and your nails found purchase, returning a sliver of the savage pain he bestowed upon you. All the while you bounced back harder on his cock, chasing the edge that was just out of reach. The tendrils between your thighs suddenly came back to life once more, their cool touch contrasting so perfectly with the heat of your bodies as they swirled around your clit in time with his thrusts.

“A-Ah! Dark, yes, pleeaaasse! Fuck- Fuck!”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come for me and let me claim you, pet.

As if mimicking the hold on your hip, another tendril slithered up your back and encircled your throat. The unexpected pressure elicited a tantalizing response, your body suddenly feeling both free and trapped in the best of ways as he bound you to him

“Mine. All mine. My filthy little slutty human whore.”

Something in your psyche broke at those words and ecstasy rushed forward like a tidal wave. Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure as you screamed his name, voice cracking under the duress of it all. You could feel the proof of your indulgence dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds of your debauched pleasure growing louder with every slap of his hips against yours.

“Fucking hell!” Dark bit out harshly, “Good girl. Good fucking slut. Who do you belong to?! Say it!”

“You! Only you, Dark! O-Ooh, f-ffu-fuck!”

With inhuman speed, he slammed into you, over and over until the smack of your bodies was almost continuous. His choked roar filtered through your senses but it was was easily washed away with your second climax teetering on the edge. There was a sudden torrential shift of energy, pulsing eerie screeches filling the room as his voice echoed off the walls when he finally buried himself as far as possible inside of you. Any pain was quickly washed away by the thunderous roll of pleasure brought on by the touch of his tendrils mixed with the throb of his cock releasing deep in your cunt. Claws trailed down your spine as he practically purred your name, leaving behind five raw lines that stung under the combined sweat of your bodies, and somehow you found yourself okay with it; loved it, in fact, knowing that his marks would be on you for quite some time.

Quaking with bliss and exhaustion, you collapsed to the bed the instant he slipped out of your core and let out a little delighted whimper. You reached out blindly for him and were appeased when he laid down beside you, pulling you against him so your face was resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” you murmured, fingers tracing up and down the little scar in his abdomen, “It goes without saying but that was fucking phenomenal, so thank you.”

Your head bobbed up and down with his laughter and you couldn’t help the grin that turned up your lips in return.

“I have to say I’m in agreement, pet,” he hummed back, “It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to let go in such a way.”

With a hand on your bicep and the arm under your head, he pulled you up and shifted you over his hips until you were perched on quaking knees. You almost questioned him but were silenced when he leaned up and captured your lips in a stinging kiss. It started out rough and slowly devolved into a passionate tangle of tongues.

It wasn’t until he pulled back for a breath that the reality of what was to happen started to sink in; the serotonin in your veins being replaced with anxiety.

“So, does this mean I die now? You have to take my soul, right?” you asked softly, “Since I made my last wish?”

“Hmm? I never heard you make a wish, pet,” he replied as he stretched back languidly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you let your confused expression convey your thoughts as one of his hands began to travel down your curves.

“But I asked-”

Your words were cut off by your own gasp when you felt his cock rising between your thighs. Wide-eyed and warm-faced, you gaped at him in shock. Apparently, a very short cool down period was also a demon perk?!

He smirked at your awe as a thumb traced your lower lip seductively.

“You asked and I gave freely,” he explained, fingers dipping to trace sharp claws along your throat, “You still have one wish remaining. Although, I’d suggest you save it for later. I feel like we have much more important things to attend at the moment, darling.”

#dark/reader #demon!dark #female reader #smut #fanfiction #READ THE WARNINGS FOR ALL KINK TAGS #chapter 2

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irumatheassassin · 3 years

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Chapter 16: "The Assassin Who Would Be Blood Adopted"

Balam: (*surprised*) Wow.

Bachinko: (*surprised*) Damn Iruma.

Kalego: (*surprised*) Iruma... what are they doing here?

Iruma: U-Um...

Soi: I called them here Professor Kalego, Iruma didn't do anything.

Ameri: We want to help Iruma with the ritual. As the student council president I want to ensure one of our former members will get through this process smoothly as do the rest of us members.

Student Council: Y-Yes!

Alice: As his soulmate, I shall always be by his side!

Clara: And be sure to keep him safe!

Lied: So don't worry, we'll all be there to help him. Right guys?

Misfit Class: Yes!

Dali: And we teachers must look out for our students.

Teachers: Of course!

Kalego: (*whispers to Soi*) Do they even know why the ritual is even happening in the first place?

Soi: (*whispers back*) No sir, I made sure of that. Originally I was only going to ask President Ameri and the Misfit Class but... a lot of things got out of hand. But the more hands to help the magic support, the better chances Iruma will live.

Soi: (Not to mention how ridiculous it was from just a mere talk with the President ended up like this...)

Kalego: (*whispers*) I suppose that's true. I never seen the Blood Adoption ever had this many helpers before.

Kalego: (Not many demons are kind enough to help another demon go through such a ritual and the people who do normally die from magic imbalance. Then again, I suppose it's Iruma we're talking about here.)

Sullivan: I see we have more than enough helpers. Now then let's all go inside shall we?

----

Opera: (*already made the ritual preparations*) Kalego-. (*sees everyone come in*) Are they all here to help?

Kalego: Yes. Now let's not waste anymore time.

Iruma: (*looks to everyone and smiles*) No matter what happens today, I just want to say how grateful it was to met with you all. I'll always treasure our time together. (*looks to Professor Kalego*) Thank you, Professor Kalego for doing this.

Kalego: Iruma... You are the most troublesome student I ever met. But... I too am grateful to have met you. No matter what happens, I'll always be you father in the end.

Iruma: Thank you...

Iruma & Kalego: (*walks into the circle as both of them cut both their palms and give each other blood ritual marks on their face to finally have both sides hold hands to connect the cuts together*)...

Sullivan, Opera, Bachinko, The Student Council, The Misfit Class & The Teachers: (*surrounds Kalego and Iruma outside the circle holding hands as they concentrate their power to the circle*) ...

Kalego: (*eyes closed*) Blood chains bound the other to me. Rise beyond destiny, change it to be mine. Let me take this one as my own, pour sins, power and darkness. Bear my family bloodline as your own and be reborn!

----

Iruma: (*opens their eyes to see themselves in a dark void*) H-Huh? Where... am I? Last I remember was... doing the ritual... Oh gods! Did I die just now?!

Iruma (Wicked Phase): Not exactly.

Iruma: Me?!

Iruma (Wicked Phase): Of course, I am a part of you. The same as those two.

Iruma: Two?

Ali: Iru-boy, you finally woke up.

Iruma: Ali? Then who's-.

Delkira: Hello Iruma Suzuki, we finally get to meet.

Iruma: Wait a sec-! You're the guy I saw at the Harvest Festival! I wasn't hallucinating that!

Delkira: Yes, at that moment my soul connected with yours and I became a part of you. Allow me to properly introduce, I'm the former Demon King Delkira.

Iruma: D-D-D-DEMON KING?!

Iruma (Wicked Phase): Yeah, it's better to not mention it to the others about this. Well maybe the old man and that Poro guy.

Ali: True. But even still all 4 of us won't see each other again afterwards.

Iruma: Huh? Why not?

Ali: This is a blood adoption ritual, meaning you'll be having Demon DNA and magic stored into your body, essentially becoming a half demon. Well, me, Irumean and Delkira are made of demon magic, so we'll be combined with that magic. The ring will break and all four of use will be one whole being.

Iruma: So you'll be gone forever, Ali...

Ali: Not in a physical sense, but we'll be fused, so we'll always be literally together. You'll have my abilities, gain Irumean's phase and personality as well as Delkira's power and memories.

Iruma: The Demon King's... memories?

Iruma (Wicked Phase): (*all four are fading*) Looks like we're out of time.

Delkira: Iruma, I know we just met each other and haven't really bonded as much but can you promise me something before we all say goodbye?

Iruma: Sure?

Delkira: Tell Sully I'm sorry for putting him through so much. And tell Poro that I was happy to have spend my musical days with him.

Iruma: ...Okay, I promise.

Ali: Farewell everyone. It was nice to see you all.

Iruma, Iruma (Wicked Phase) & Delkira: Goodbye.

----

Kalego: (*shaking Iruma's lifeless body*) Iruma! Iruma! Wake up dammit! Son! I'm sorry! Just dammit! Wake up and tell us your okay!

Opera: Kalego...

Iruma: (*the ring breaks as Iruma's body begins to glow intensely with magic*) ...

Everyone: (*shocked*) ?!

Kalego: What's happening?!

Sullivan: The ritual... has been completed.

Balam: But the ritual-.

Sullivan: You guys did everything correct, the only thing to hope was that Iruma's soul was strong enough to handle the ritual. And now he's going the through with the rest of the transformation.

Iruma: (*grows two sets of black feather wings faded with dark blue to purple, his hair and eyes is also slight faded to purple, with the eye shape now like a demons with black tattoos covering most of his body, and his ears and teeth are now slightly pointy too*) RAWWWWWWRRRR!!!!

Sullivan: (This power... is that...)

The 13 Crowns & The 2 of the Three Heroes: (*also sense Delkira's power in Iruma*) W-What the-?!

Poro: (*elsewhere as he senses Delkira's power inside Iruma*) D-Delkira?!

Iruma: (*magic finally subsides and Iruma falls back asleep in Kalego's arms that caught him, with the wings going back into his new wing roots and the tattoos disappearing*) ...

Kalego: Rest son... You did a great job today...

#魔入りました！入間くん #mairimashita! iruma kun #marimashita iruma kun #iruma kun #iruma suzuki #misfit class #student council #teachers #barbatos bachiko #opera #poro #the 13 crowns #the three heroes #assassination classroom

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sizeshiftingdeath · 3 years

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Ends and Starts (MCYT G/T Exchange!)

Hello there sizeshiftingdeath! I received your prompts for the gift exchange, and while I tried to start pretty close to your prompt, my ideas kind of spiraled out of control, I hope you don't mind ^^' I can make something else with another prompt if it doesn't fit what you were hoping for, though! There's also a little bit of extra information down the bottom with some stuff I thought of about the au I accidentally made.

Prompt given: ‘A human caught in the rain finds a giant in the forest’

The world is pockmarked with evidence of the tragedies of the past. Of warped land that paints the horrors that befell things that came before. The living reminders of them continue to live on in perpetuity, as immortal creatures that were wreathed in the horrors that life on Earth had endured in the past.

Bask in their horrible might.

There is the Death from Burning and Fire and Falling from the Sky and Cold Choking Death, the End of the Cretaceous. A massive beast, the bloody end of an era of enormous fauna. A destruction made all the more powerful by how quickly it was achieved. It stalks the land and sea and, where it steps, the plants die of lack of sunlight and the ground turns to tar.

There is the Death from Ever Hunting and Chasing and Too Warm Too Bright - Tech, the man-shaped leviathan, death in the shape of something familiar to mankind, the Killer of the Pleistocene. The death of great megafauna in an icy world from the encroaching warmth of a new era, the sharp point of a spear. It hunts the world with spears and arrows of fire and, in the depths of its nest, all water has turned to vapor and the earth itself has become a wasteland.

There is the Death of Falling Frozen Seas, of a primordial sea strangled to death under a glacier lock, Her Lady of the primaeval oceans, the Death of the Ordovician. The tail-end of an explosion of life, stretched too far by their own hubris. And yet, despite being a beast with a hundred trilobite and eurypterid faces, one that has a herald in the form of a human by Her side, for reasons that have yet to become known. Maybe, just like every other esoteric thing that such beasts may do, it shall remain a mystery forever.

Look and see. A new immortal is emerging from its eggshell of tragedy. The unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. The death through hubris and a slow choking unraveling of your very being. The death of man from crackling radiation and tainted iridescent-film water and ash filled smoke. The destruction of the Anthropocene.

Except. This is a creature who was born prematurely. Because man is not dead nor feeling its own final throes. It was not born wreathed in the screams of the damned, only the fears held in the hearts of the still-living. It is naïve and curious and did not yet have the star of a hundred million species’ souls to power it yet. It was stunted.

And that is why the first human the newest apocalypse met was so important.

…

The forests are deep and dark. Quiet yet shivering with life. Constantly moving and yet trapped in some space between time. Most of all, they expected nothing more from you than for your own two legs to be able to travel. Ranboo liked that.

It certainly was nicer than what he had to deal with outside of the forest at least. Here he could continue walking and listening and breathing for as long as he still could move forward. This forest in particular was a favorite, with a constant twilight quality to it that played into its timelessness.

He stumbled over a log, slipping slightly on the slick moss, and focused as strongly as he could on his surroundings. It was hard when he could so quickly slip into his thoughts. He needed to enjoy his surroundings. He needed to stay in the present and not phase out like fog.

Ironically, it was his attempts to ground himself that prevented him from noticing what was slowly growing more wrong in the forest around him. The scent of ash in the air. The lack of birdsong or rustle of leaves. The trees, growing darker and more burnt-looking, and the dead logs that were bristling with fungi.

But when he stepped out into a clearing with an enormous rock embedded into the middle of it, Ranboo really couldn’t help but realize all of the discrepancies. The illusion of an eternal twilight had been broken with the red light that streamed down. The ground was distressingly clear of ground cover, instead dusted with ash.

Forest fire? He hadn’t heard of any in the area but… What else would it be?

Ranboo looked up at the sun, which had meandered towards the west since he had entered the forest. There were dark clouds gathering above him in worrying amounts, and the air was a little hard to see through with the particles suspended in it. He frowned at it.

Something was wrong here, he could sense it in a deeply animalistic kind of way. As if there was something screaming in his hindbrain to run.

He didn’t run. This was the forest that he has walked a hundred times before, when did this happen? Why had this happened? He needed to find out.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. A droplet of curiously dark water fell on his face.

Ranboo stepped towards the other side of the forest clearing that should not have been there.

And that's when a living embodiment of a mass extinction came shambling out of the ashen trees.

Ranboo didn’t know which detail he noticed first about this rogue apocalypse beast. Was it the limp brown hair that was almost black with iridescent oil slick? Was it the enormous horns that curled jutting from its face and looked more like scrap metal than keratin? Was it the uranium-glass green stripes that criss-crossed like cracks in ceramic along it’s skin?

Or was it the fact that this one was shaped like a man?

The apocalypse beasts always most resembled the myriad that had died in their creation. The death of the Ice Age looks vaguely like a man, if squinted at, mostly because so many cousins to humanity had died in its formation. It was more like an enormous boar-beast on two legs that had the arms of a man, if anything. This one did not look remotely like the death of the Ice Age.

Ranboo took a flying leap from horror and realization to hysteria. This is the death of humans. The death by nuclear bombs and smoke and oil. The fabled next apocalypse beast, the bringer of the end of the world, was already here.

For a moment of absolute blinding terror he wondered if this meant that all other humans on Earth were dead now. That today was the day the entirety of humanity died, leaving just him wandering the forest endlessly. That nuclear armageddon occurred and he was out there worried about keeping himself grounded enough to admire the birds.

The beast - and he was never in doubt that this was an apocalypse beast, even if he had never seen any of the others in person before something shook like a leaf in his soul simply from being near it - loomed over him. It watched him like a bug under a glass with nuclear hazard yellow-and-black eyes, and the spell of frozen muscles snapped in Ranboo. He bolted towards the boulder in the middle of the clearing and pushed his way into a space between it and a smaller boulder at its base, scrambling to find a smaller crack to squeeze himself into to just get himself out of reach of the beast, of the black water, of everything.

He could hear a rasping, clicking-crackling sound. (A Geiger Counter.) He could see glowing green-striped fingers reach under the edges of the rock he had wedged himself under. Could see, in the sickly chartreuse light they cast, fingernails larger than his head catch the rock. Felt the weight of the boulder lift from his back.

Ranboo was left crouching and shaking, so scared he couldn't breathe (or maybe it was the ash or the slimy water that couldn’t be rain), as the apocalypse beast crouched down further. It crackled and clicked with a mouth that seemed all too human to be able to make those noises, and then it. Crooned? With a voice that was more like a siren shriek turned down, weirdly echoey as if speaking from far away, it clicked and whined and Ranboo was so confused he didn’t even see the hand reach down and pick him up by the back of his shirt.

He screamed and flailed, imagination jumping into overdrive about what horrifying things the beast could do, and just as quickly, he was dropped with a whoomph to the ground and the death of Mankind jerked back. Ranboo gasped and sputtered as half of face got thoroughly soaked with ash-water mud, and hoisted himself up again to get away from the apocalypse beast.

Who was crouching over him, luminous trefoil eyes barely a foot away from his own, still crooning that awful siren tone. From this close Ranboo could faintly see radiation burns pockmarking its skin, and a horrible scar of curled and ridged skin along its face, as if it was victim to a close-range bomb explosion.

It tilted its head, leaning a tiny bit closer, and Ranboo threw his arms up to cover his face. God, it itched where the ash water had splashed on him. Why was it itching so much?

The death of Mankind stopped again, looking up into the sky and then down at Ranboo again. It seemed to come to a conclusion, because it then slowly - oh so slowly, why was it being careful? - cupped its hands out in front of it and held them out to him.

It… Wanted him to climb on. Into the grasp of a literal specter of death specifically designed with the destruction of his own species in mind.

Ranboo, in a moment of blind panic and stupidity, climbed on. It looked polite, he reasoned. He was already going to die just from being close to this thing.

It continued to… yes, it definitely was cooing now, in that horrifying voice, and for a moment Ranboo wondered if maybe he misinterpreted. Maybe this thing wasn’t meant to represent the nuclear apocalypse.

His eye had started to itch where the water touched it. He rocked himself in the grasp of this giant, feeling footholds in the craggy radiation-worn skin, and felt the side of his face.

The moment e touched it, a white-hot flash of horrible burning pain hit him like a truck, knocking him into a stupor of yelling. It was as if his face was burning, was twisting and gnarling just as much as the apocalypse beast’s horns did. Under his hand, stiff with pain and unable to move away, he could feel skin slough off, could feel the cells themselves die off in droves, in response to whatever radiation or toxin was in the ash-water.

He couldn’t even register the sensation of fingers larger than his torso curling around him and holding him steady, of him being pressed up against a vast chest that beat unsteadily like a stuck clock, of the vast thumps of footfalls against a diseased forest floor.

All he could feel is pain, burning coiling tunneling pain that tried to tear out his face, his hands, his neck, burning him bright and radiant like a star.

…

The creature was screaming in its hands. It hadn’t stopped screaming for a long time.

It was small and writhing and melting. Creatures usually didn’t like melting.

The death of Humanity wasn’t sure how to make it stop. It had dashed out of the black-rain (that seemed to make the melting worse, maybe it’ll stop once it’s out of the rain?) to its home cave, hoping that perhaps it could figure something out in the comfort of its own home.

The creature’s screams had died down, though whether it was from its pain being alleviated or their voice giving out, the death of Humanity couldn’t tell. All it could tell was that it wasn’t getting up, wasn’t looking at it with those wide curious scared-but-interested eyes.

Most animals ran from the death of Humanity. Land-creatures would yell in fear and flee, birds would rise up into the sky in huge swarms only to be struck down by the black-rain. Even insects would twitch and die when they got near, which led so many to flee this part of the forest entirely. It was a lonely existence. But this human hadn’t run like the other animals had. It had hid, yes, but it had viewed the death of Humanity in all of its glory and it almost, almost, was ok with it being picked up.

And then something had happened and now the human was dying just like all of the other animals and the Nuclear Apocalypse didn’t know what to do.

Be well. Be alright. Be just like you were before, it thought, delicately laying the twitching human on the ground out of reach of the dripping black-water puddles, in a nest of dried grasses and leaves that had swept into the cave over the years. It prodded the human with a finger, whining softly when all it did was spasm like a dying insect. It wasn’t dying, right? It was just hurt? It couldn’t be hurt, the death of Humanity wouldn’t allow it. Not when it was so curious and didn’t flee like the others. Not when the death of Humanity had a chance to learn from it. Even now, writhing in its palm, it could feel the frantic beating of life and warmth, things it had so rarely seen before.

You will be well. You must be well. I will make you well.

...

When he came to, it was to complete darkness.

Well, no. Not totally. There was a faint glimmer of far away light somewhere to his left. A shuffling shadow, a faint sickly green glow.

His right was totally dark though, and he couldn’t quite open his eye. He almost brought his hand up to touch it before violently flinching as he remembered what had landed him here in the first place. Would it start burning and melting horribly like it did before? That he was even awake to wonder that is a miracle in of itself... Or the start of the second round of his torture.

Horrible curiosity pushed him to touch, as lightly as possible, the skin on his right cheek. It… He couldn’t feel it. Or rather, he could feel the sandpaper surface of extremely rough skin, but he couldn't feel the pressure, the burning bright pain. The entire area was dead to the touch.

Ranboo threw himself as upright as he could make himself, which ended up only being a half kneel before falling back over into a sit. His breath hitched and he felt his face more firmly, the rough scratchy surface of skin that splattered like paint over the right side of his face, over his eye, down his neck and onto his arm. The muted tingling where it met smoother skin along his shoulder and the bridge of his nose. In an act of desperation he even poked at his eyelid, trying to pry it open to see if he could ever see from that eye again.

His hand passed in front of his working eye in that moment, and at this point his focus had sharpened enough to make out vague colors in the dim light. His hand… It was a black far darker than any human could naturally produce, with a grey-green cast that made him look sickly.

I feel sickly, he reasoned to himself. What is going on? He waved his hand a little frantically, as if the new midnight shade was something that was just stuck to his skin. Desperately he held up his other (totally numb to the touch) hand, hoping it hadn’t changed too.

Well, good news - it wasn’t midnight black.

Bad news - it was a shade so pale that it looked totally devoid of blood. And the raspy surface he could feel didn’t look any prettier to the eye. It didn’t have that same grey-green tint to it though, which was nice, because it would’ve shown up really well on this pure white canvas.

Why was he even thinking about looks right now? He was in the den of an Apocalypse Beast Ranboo get your head together! This was absolutely not the right time to space out - he needed to stay in the moment!

His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to get himself upright. He had only just gotten himself steady when he felt the rattle of large footsteps shake through the ground. Before Ranboo could even think to run though, the shadows out of the corner of his eyes resolved into the beast, which made its way all too quickly towards him.

He couldn’t run if he wanted to. And besides, the damage done to him would probably kill him. He was on borrowed time as is. What did he have left to do but to see what the beast did?

It slowed as it came closer, reaching out a vast clawed hand towards him. Despite his resignation towards his fate, Ranboo flinched back as it came way too close way too fast. A movement that the beast obviously didn't notice or interpret or care about, because he was scooped up into its palm without a moment's hesitation.

“No!” He yelled, wriggling and pushing away from the cage of fingers around him. The beast paused in bringing him up to its face, and if Ranboo was being generous he could call the look on its face a frown.

In less than a blink the face of the beast was so close way too close and he almost punched it (for all the help that would do) out of reflex. It blinked at him with those lucent yellow-black eyes, laser sharp in their focus upon him. He felt for all the world like an ant being peered at through a magnifying glass. Maybe he’ll be fried like one too.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, voice cracking in fear. “What is it you want?”

It didn’t answer in that siren tone again, but instead shifted its weight to the side and turned its palms so that Ranboo was standing squarely in one of them. The other was drawn up and one sharp-clawed finger was pointed at Ranboo. Or, well. The side of Ranboo’s face that he couldn’t see from just yet.

He trembled with the anticipation of the jagged nail at the end of the beast’s outstretched finger spearing forward. But all it did was touch, very gently, under the damaged eye. The beast frowned even more.

Then it jabbed at him, hard enough to bruise but not much else, directly into Ranboo’s damaged eye. He yelped and jumped away, tumbling off his feet in the cup of the beast’s fingers and slapped a numb hand over numb face. Even if he couldn’t feel the area, it still surprised him enough to believe for a moment he could sense it again. Except… was that still his imagination? The eye under his pale skin was starting to itch and water, the first sensation he felt from it since he had woken up, and with a gasp he was able to open his eye.

Fuzz. That’s all he could see from that eye. The beast leaned forward and poked at his face again, softer this time, and when he opened his eye again the world had snapped into focus, tinged with red around the edges. He blinked a few times, and felt a trail of something wet leak from that eye onto his cheek.

What had happened? “You… You healed me?” He asked up at it. It was still frowning even as he had two working eyes again, and muttered softly in a voice that sounded like something crumbling into splinters. Then it poked him for a third time, this time on the shoulder, and Ranboo held back a yell of pain as the area lit up in a blaze of sensation that felt like liquid fire. As he watched, the black skin around the edges of the wound cracked and veins of bright green glowed beneath.

Just… Like… The beast…

Oh no.

The pain of his nerves coming back to life was nothing when compared to the cold horror that had bubbled into his stomach. There was a single case of a human managing to gain immortality as a result of an apocalypse beast. One of the first beasts, Her Lady of the Primordial Sea, the beast of the Ordivician extinction, had taken pity upon an ancient human who was trapped in the glacial ices that herald her path across the Earth, and had gifted it with immortality and a pair of wings that made him as beastly as the Lady he served.

Nobody knew exactly why the Angel of the Deaths had been spared, and why not a single human had ever had that happen before or since. All that was really known about him was his violence, and that he had an uncanny ability to be where an apocalypse beast would be travelling to next. He was just as inhuman and alien as the beasts themselves, if in a smaller form.

It had only ever happened once. Until now, obviously.

Ranboo stared at his white hand, prickling with waking nerves under the surface and twisting with green strands that trailed under his skin like angry snakes, and knew that he was a monster now. Somehow, it was freeing. Like he finally got an answer to a question he had asked over and over. Why him, why now, why is he still alive, why is he not afraid enough…

He stared back up at the apocalypse beast and it blinked down at him. It was no longer frowning, only looking thoughtfully now. “You’re not going to hurt me.” It wasn’t a question.

It reached a hand back up, maybe to poke him again, but this time rubbed his hair very lightly. He did not flinch this time, steeling up his willpower to allow this touch (It won’t hurt him. He needs to keep repeating it until it is true. It won’t hurt him. He was its now it wouldn’t hurt him).

It made that soft crooning noise again, like it had before lifting the rock he had been hiding under, and despite it being underlaid with sounds specifically designed to inspire fear in humans, he could find himself getting used to it. (Would have to. He’s an abomination now after all. The second angel.)

“You’re not so bad, are you…” He slowly pushed himself to his feet, flexing his newly sensated hand carefully. “I still don’t know what you are or why you are here now but…”

The beast tipped its head curiously and warbled exactly the same words back at Ranboo. He froze, because it was so much like his own voice except under deep layers of static, before shaking his head. Best get introductions out of the way - this creature was obviously smart. It was the death of Humanity after all.

He pointed to his chest. “Ranboo.” He gave it a few pokes for emphasis, and the beast poked him too before mimicking his name. He wasn’t entirely sure it actually got what that meant but, well. Baby steps.

Then he pointed at it. It blinked a few times (and Ranboo really couldn’t help but anthropomorphize its reactions - this thing was just too uncannily human to not) and chirped out another ‘Ranboo.’ He gestured more firmly, pointing at the beast.

It continued to look with (probably) bafflement for a few moments, before letting loose a cacophony of sounds that sent Ranboo’s hands slapping over his ears. It was all of the sounds of falling trees, of squawking birds, of the blazing sun and frigid cold and most of all the explosive fire and cold falling ash-water and death from sickness. It was everything and more that wrapped up the death of Humanity in a nutshell.

Ranboo blinked. That might take a while to learn how to pronounce.

He decided to call it Tubbo for short.

<End> There we have it! I hope that you enjoyed this - I hope it didn't betray too much how much stuff like this interests me and that this was potentially also 3000 words of me nerding out about mass extinctions.

Anyways, here's some details I had added but had no way of explaining naturally within the story that i was a little proud of ^^'

The Anthropocene apocalypse beast is also called the unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. Shortened to TUBBO. Ha.

There’s 7, now 8 apocalypse beasts (Great Oxidation Event, Ordovician, Devonian, Permian, Triassic, Cretaceous, Pleistocene, and now Anthropocene). I originally intended there to just be 5 (for the big five mass extinctions) and then a 6th Anthropocene apocalypse beast, but then I thought I really should add in the great oxidation event that almost caused extinction of all non-oxygen breathing creatures on a very early earth, and the death of most megafauna in the Pleistocene era.

Society is way different with these living eldritch abominations just shambling across the globe, causing a trail of destruction behind them. A lot less large cities, for one.

The Ordovician apocalypse beast is Kristin, yes. She’s uplifted Phil into something similar to what Ranboo is now. I kinda want to think more about her and her story with Phil.

The Pleistocene apocalypse beast is Techno. Idk why I chose to do that but it seemed to fit. Especially since the leading theory on Pleistocene megafauna death is humans hunting them, which I think fits Techno pretty well

The rain is black rain - rain full of radioactive fallout. Bad Stuff, definitely not what you should seek out if you want to keep your body in working order.

I kept referring to sirens in Tubbo’s speech. Just imagine every emergency warning broadcast sound except even more terrifying

So Ranboo’s skin is majorly fucked up. For one, he’s suffered major radiation damage to the side that is now white (healed over brand new skin). The black half is much more interesting though. Did you know there are types of fungi that can feed off of nuclear radiation? They protect themselves from the effects by secreting a LOAD of melanin, making them extremely dark. Anything that wasn’t newly healed on Ranboo had now become akin to those fungi now. Feeding rather than harmed by the nuclear radiation Tubbo naturally puts off. Perfect for a newborn Angel of the deaths.

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Thank you so much for this story submission!! I really love this idea and how well you wrote it! this is so amazing! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

#submission #mcyt g/t exchange event #mcyt #g/t

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