#⌜ TASKS ⌟ ✦ * · ˚ take up my message from the veins . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojolvs · 1 year

Text

I still want you.

Chapter 5

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

Falling in love with the Satoru Gojou wasn’t an easy task. You truly love him but will this come to an end?

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader, baby daddy gojou.

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message, also excuse my writing their might be some typos I didn’t edit :(.

5k words

Previous chapter ⤏ Next chapter

Within a short period of time, three days had passed. You asked your mother in advance if she would be able to take care of Sumire for a few weeks, after which she would fly with him to Hawaii on the day of the wedding. "I want you to be good to your grandmother, okay?" Scratching his head, you bent down to give him a hug. When you embraced him tightly and kissed his forehead, you couldn't help but frown. Although your son was going with your mother, you were still concerned that something would go wrong. "Listen to your grandmother and do not cause any problems for her." Satoru kissed his forehead and smiled before going over to you.

You had a long conversation, agreeing that a divorce was in your best interest despite your efforts to salvage your relationship. After discussing the cheating for hours, you finally agreed not to bring it up until the divorce papers have been finalized. It also meant that you had to forcefully act normal around your family members and everyone else, but once you were alone, you would stop acting normal. As a result of respecting one another's boundaries, you requested that Satoru no longer sleep in the same bed as you, see you change, or kiss you.

It was difficult to behave normally with your husband next to your mother after he cheated on you. The key was to maintain a cordial demeanor while preventing your emotions from showing. You kept your conversations with him brief and focused on neutral topics. Also, you frequently excused yourself from the room when your emotions became out of control.

Despite the fact that this was a difficult decision, you both knew it was the right one for each other. You recalled yesterday that you no longer had any feelings for each other after Satoru asked you and your sister if his mistress could attend the wedding. Your sister was talking about how she needed one more person but you couldn't come up with anyone. Although you had already contacted Shoko and Utahime, you still lacked one person. In disbelief of what he had done, you stormed off, anger coursing through your veins. Satoru had no effect on you after that discussion. As a result, you had completely forfeited your chance to be Satoru's love of his life again. At that point you didn't care if she came or not you just wanted to get this over with.

"Bye mom!" You kissed her on the cheek and waved goodbye to Sumire as he perked up at the window, seeing his white hairs twirling in the wind. You were silent throughout the entire ride to the airport, so silent that you were occasionally able to hear each other breathe. Having nothing to do, you grabbed your phone and clicked on the message you just received.

Toji Zen'in; Did you know that I was invited to be one of your sister's groomsmen? I also hope you are doing well.

As you read his text, you couldn't help but smile, and biting your lip, you felt a sense of comfort. Satoru kept his eyes glued to the road, not even glancing at your phone to see who you were texting or checking on your status.

Y/n; Thats great! I am looking forward to seeing you there :) Also, I am doing well at the moment.

When Toji replied, you purposely turned on the ringer to see if Satoru would be curious enough to see who you were speaking with. To your demise he actually was. In a quick glance at your phone, you could see him bite his tongue in an attempt to not speak. After all who cares if your texting another man it's not like he didn't do anything worse. Occasionally you would let out a small laugh in response to Toji's response. Satoru gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands. Observing him, you could see that his eyebrows were furrowed and that he had his jaw tightened up.

Toji Zen’in; I'm also bringing Megumi with me so we can finally have that "playdate" you wanted.

A second giggle escaped your lips, but despite the fact that Gojos veins were almost bursting at the seams, you were unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Stop doing that." You looked up at him, puzzled, and crossed your arms, as you stared at him in a state of confusion.

"Do what?" Counting the seconds until he responded, you licked your lips in preparation for what was to come. You couldn't help but scoff at his face when he acted like this. Why couldn't he abandon your feelings and go talk to his mistress? "Stop- you know what, nevermind." As he saw his breathing getting heavier and his composure slipping, you couldn't help but smile. Seeing you texting another man broke the heart of Gojo a bit. He didn't even understand why he was acting in such a way or why he was acting that way. As hard as he tried, he tried to come across as if he did not care, but at the same time, he did care.

"When we arrive don't expect me to act nice to her. In fact, you shouldn't even expect me to speak to her at all, since I won't." Scroozing, you rolled your eyes and stuck out your lips in despair. As for the person Satoru brought along on this stupid fucking trip, you didn't give a damn about who he brought with him, but who was he to think you would even glance at the person who cheated on you with Satoru? "She has a name y'know." You laughed at his response.

"I don't care." As you gazed at him, he flickered his angry eyes at you, obviously breaking eye contact first with you when he caught your gaze. "As a matter of fact, her name is Jiyuu, just in case you need it." When you turned back to look at him, your eyes widened and you stared at him for a moment before deciding to turn away from him.

Emerging from the car, you couldn't help but notice that your friends were waiting for you two. "Shoko! Utahime!" you shouted, sprinting toward them and hugging them in embrace. You couldn't help but smile back at them when you saw their happy smiles.

He smiled. "Hmm, of course the two lovers are a little late." He walked behind you, hugging you tight and sticking his tongue out at Shoko as he walked past. As you let out a small giggle, you slapped his hand, giving him a slight grin. "Oh no, you know how kids are. I had to drop Sumire off at my mom's house and he was crying so I couldn't leave him like that." Utahime smiled as she grabbed Shoko by the arm and gently rested her head on her shoulders.

"Because we don’t have any children apart from you, we are unfamiliar with the nature of children." With a small laugh, you slapped Suguru on the back. Satoru couldn't help but stare as you laughed with your old highschool buddies. As soon as you saw Utahime and Shoko, he noticed that your mood had completely changed. Your eyes shone when they hugged you, and your lips tightened when you smiled at them.

"Where is Mei Mei?" As you tilted your head slightly, you observed some random person's hands blocking your view. Asserting her identity, you smiled. "Boo." As you turned around, you gave her a big hug. In a sense, Mei Mei was like an older sister to you.

As you grasped his hand, you tightened your grip on it.

Smiling, you placed your head on his shoulder. "Wait, we're missing Jiyuu," Your sister called out as she searched for the specific person you could not stand. As a taxi pulled up and she came out, you couldn't help but gasp. Her eyes lit up when Satoru saw her, and his eyes flickered to her before he looked down and realized he had made a serious error. Seeing your mood quickly change, he realized that he had made a mistake in bringing her along. As a result, you felt heavy and your emotions were scattered all over the place. Taking a deep breath, you fake smiled in front of Satoru before moving towards Shoko who was waiting patiently inside. "I'll let you two talk." you said.

"Hey!" Your heart ached as you heard her voice

Satoru remained silent as he waited for her to accompany him inside. Utahime and Shoko were the only two people who knew that there were three people involved in this marriage. Despite telling Shoko the day you discovered Gojo had cheated on you, Utahime was staying over that night and overheard everything that happened. She promised you not to tell anyone about Satoru's affair. Being the good friend she is she made sure to keep that promise.

"Are you all right?" She whispered, seeing your lips pursed, already sensing your distress. A pure act of betrayal. After reaching the airport and checking in, you were horrified to discover that you would have to sit next to Satoru during the entire flight. Immediately, Utahime and Shoko realized what was happening, looking at you with desperation. "I am sorry Satoru, but she will not be able to sit with you. I am taking your wife with me. I was wondering if you would mind swapping with her, Mei Mei?" You could feel Mei's disgust in her eyes and sighed softly.

"In that case, I will do it. You will not regret trading with me, Y/n. I know I won't regret it." When she realized that she would finally be able to sit with her lover, Jiyuu's mood had perked up. Shoko grabbed her hand as Utahimes looked on. "Wait a minute-" Her eyes widened as she realized Jiyuu would be sitting all by herself with Satoru."Okay thank you." You didn't even make eye contact with her. In your eyes, Satoru could see the betrayal flowing from your heart. "Let's go, we don't want to be late."

As you entered the airplane, you noticed a familiar face. "Toji?" After everything you had experienced, you were immediately perked up upon seeing the only male you were able to stand. Upon seeing you, he turned his head in your direction. When you saw his gentle smile, you felt a strange sensation in your heart. "Hey, where you sitting?" Pointing to where you were going to sit he couldn't help but put his hand on your shoulder. "Guess we're airplane buddies." Eyes stared at the back of your head as you spoke. Not caring if it was Jiyuu or Satoru you continued to walk to your seat. Feeling pure relief that you weren't going to sit with Satoru. Your eyes lit up upon seeing your favorite person for the first time. While carrying megumi, Toji woke him up so that he could say hello to you.

"How are you gumi?" In spite of your best efforts, you couldn't help but plant a small kiss on the child's head as you scrunched up your nose. With a gentle smile on your face, you ruffled his hair while stroking his head. The moment you finally sat down, you couldn't help but notice the laughter erupting behind you, as you took a quick glance behind you, you spotted your sister, Gojo, and Jiyuu laughing together. All of them seemed to be getting along well with each other. When you took a deep breath you turned to look at Toji, looking at his look of apologetic you knew exactly what he meant.

With Megumi sitting in the middle of you and Toji, talking about his fear of airplanes, you couldn't help but hold his tiny hand and interlock your fingers together. In preparation for takeoff, Megumi closed her small eyes. "Im scared." As Toji ruffled his hair, he comforted him, "Don't worry about it, okay? I'm here with you, as well as Y/N."

The plane took off before you knew it, with Megumi wiping away a couple of tears in the process. Carefully squeezing his cheek, you propped him up in your lap and caressed him gently. If you get into trouble, who cares? Your heart broke when you saw a child in distress, especially one so young as Sumire. His tiny hands encircled the waist of your body as Megumi cradled your stomach. Each time you caressed his hair, you pecked him on the top of his head with a small kiss. You were even more heartbroken after hearing Megumi call you mommy. "Mommy are we done yet?" Your eyes welled up with tears.

“You should go to sleep now, gumi." Hugging him closer you asked Toji to pass you a small blanket you had brought for yourself. Having gotten up, Toji opened the airplane compartment and handed you the beautiful blue blanket with cats on it. "Thank you." you replied, smiling back as you leaned your head against Tojis shoulder, slowly drifting off to sleep.

The sight of you and Toji broke Satoru's heart. "And then that happened, can you believe it Toru?" He turned his head towards Jiyuu and sighed. The nickname Toru was something you both came up with during your high school years. Continuing to watch you play with Megumi, he nodded his head. It warmed his heart to see you happy and not unhappy, as opposed to when you were with him. "Toru?" He totally missed Jiyuu's presence, since he was too busy staring at you while you were talking to Toji.

"Yes?" Looking at Jiyuu she was filled with disappointment, realizing he didn't even give her a second glance. Secretly, they were holding hands together since thanks to an unknown person next to Jiyuu they didn't have to worry about getting caught. She rubbed her eyes with her spare hand before placing her head on his shoulder. He couldn't help but stare at her. Watching how her eyes twitched when she got cold. Exactly as they used to when he slept over at your house. A smile spread across Satoru's face as he snuggled deeper.

"Yes gumi, go sleep honey." Noting the sparkle in your eyes while watching megumi cuddle closer to you, he could not help but scoff. As if he cared.

He had his so-called love of his life sitting beside him, so why would he care that you exchanged your seat just to not sit next to him. Upon seeing you so close to him, he began to doubt your credibility. His first thought was, "Did she have an affair with him?"." No, of course not, it was inevitable that anyone would fall in love with your ridiculous humor.

Though he tried to reassure himself that he felt nothing towards you, deep down he knew that he still loved you. Seeing you fall so quickly asleep with Megumi in your arms he couldn't help but feel a slight pain in his chest. When he arrived home some nights, he would see you and Sumire snuggled on the couch with the exact same blanket, or when Sumire would get up super early to jump on top of you and her during The Weeknd, and after that she would cuddle with him, bragging about Sumire being a better cuddler than him because Sumire allowed her to big spoon him.

But now that meant absolutely nothing to him, he had fell out of love so long ago. He considered meeting Jiyuu to be a blessing. Seeing her for the first time at that stupid party you were supposed to accompany him to. He initially thought it would be a one-night stand, but after seeing her multiple times, he fell in love with her. He still remembers the small quickie they had in the restroom before heading out acting like nothing happened. He knew things were going to end soon when he started missing important stuff just to meet up with his mistress at your beach house. The two of them drove three hours to your house just to spend the entire week together. During that week, he realized that he was in love with her. Seeing her run towards the beach he knew he felt it with her.

On that day, he told her everything, including that he was married and had a three-year-old child. At first Jiyuu felt betrayed telling Gojo to screw himself. To keep her, Satoru lied to her face and said that you had fallen out of love and were seeing someone else. He had told Jiyuu that things were officially done with you two.

That was a year ago.

Before you learned about his affair with Jiyuu, he had been seeing her for a full year and a half. He tried to end it with you multiple times but he couldn't find the strength to do it. He knew he couldn't do it when he saw your sleeping figure. Satoru didn't anticipate you finding out that weekend. He couldn't resist the urge to go see her after not seeing her for almost 3 weeks. The other women.

His eyes never left your sight. "Toru.." She tilted her head as she tried to catch his blank stare. Satoru snapped out of his thoughts, breathing in as he looked at his lovers face. "I'm cold," he sighed, taking off his sweater and giving it to Jiyuu, smiling she gave him a small peck on the lips before anyone noticed. Resting his head on top of hers he felt relieved.

After being jolted awake by the sudden turbulence, you sat up suddenly. You were struggling to breathe and staggered. Remembering that Megumi was asleep soundly, you cuddled closer to him. His eyes were glued shut seeing his long eyelashes you could tell he got it from his mother and not Toji. In your peripheral vision, you could see Toji sleeping soundly, he had moved to the center seat and placed his arm around your waist. A random person on the plane would've assumed that you two had a beautiful son and that you were a happy couple. Suddenly, your curiosity got the best of you and you glanced behind you. You can feel your heart breaking as soon as you see the scenery. They both fell asleep after Gojo gave Jiyuu his sweater. Observing how his eyebrow twitched and how his hair was messy, you could see Satoru breathe in and out.

Looking back forward you let a shaky and small whisper, 'at least he's happy.'

“Approximately 30 minutes from our destination, we will hand out snacks soon." The speaker woke up Megumi and Toji, both looking at you.

"Here, I'll take him from you." Grasping megumi Toji, he sat him down on his lap. In a spectacular display of strength, he wrapped his muscular arms around the sleepy 3 year old who had been complaining of hunger. "Thanks." Unbuckling the seat, you were relieved to see the bathroom was empty. You let go of Tojis' grip on your waist as you stood up. "If the lady comes, can she get me a sandwich?" You asked. With a nod, he agreed to buy you lunch.

Upon getting up, most passengers appeared to be fast asleep. While using the plane's bathroom, you noticed that the first class restroom was much different from the regular one. Thanks to your sister's husband, all of your first class tickets were purchased. A sudden feeling of nauseous hit you as you rubbed your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Before you knew it you threw up. Walking to the sink you washed your mouth grabbing the small mouth wash in the counter you made sure to wash your mouth 10x.

The nausea must've gotten you pretty bad. Exiting the restroom you were met with a familiar face. "Oh sorry," passing by her she grabbed your shoulder. Jiyuu had beautiful brown long hair. Her hair was tied up in a clip and her makeup was smudged a bit. "Please don't touch me." Refusing to make eye contact with her she scoffed . What the hell? Why was she so disturbed that you didn't let her touch you.

Rolling your eyes you sat down next to Toji, handing you the sandwhich you took a big bite. "Here have some." Giving a bite to the small child he bite it chewing with a big smile. You knew it must be hard for Megumi to grow up without a mother. He reminded you so much of Sumire you couldn't help but think maybe you could be a sort of mother figure towards megumi. "Don't chew with your mouth open." Grabbing a napkin Toji cleaned Megumis cheek. He had mayonnaise plastered all over his face. His cute green eyes looked up to you, giggling you ruffled his hair.

"No! I want mama!" crying megumi reached towards you. His small chubby hands trying to grasp your hair. He started whining smacking his dad for not letting him go with you. "C'mere its only 30 min until we land" Megumi started making a ruckus, wanting to be in your grasp and not Tojis he started kicking his legs hitting Toji. "Fine, you want Y/n? Don't be complaining when I don't carry you later." Rolling his eyes he handed Megumi to you. Seeing his pink tinted cheeks and watery eyes you smiled pinching his cheeks.

Before you knew it the plane was already landing, Megumi fast asleep on your arms you asked Toji if he could take out your small purse. Despite Megumi looking small he was quite heavy. Not minding his weight you told Toji you would carry him until you exited the airport. Standing up you rejusted megumi, his small arms wrapping around your neck. Burying his face on your neck you couldn't help but smile at him. Toji was admiring the scenery wondering if Megumi would be like this if his wife was still alive. Megumi hadn't been this clingy with anyone, always wanting to be with dad and no one else but I guess you must've won the little man's heart because he didn't let go at all.

"So cute!" Utahime smiled at you, grabbing Shoko to see the sleeping child in your arms. Satoru came behind you helping you with your luggage you quickly told him that you didn't need his help. "It's okay, Toji’s helping me." Satoru licked his teeth shaking his head he walked away, stuffing his hands in his pants. You could see his tall figure walk towards Suguru and Jiyuu, wrapping his long arm on Suguru shoulder.

"You need help with him?" Toji tilted his head pointing on the small child who was quietly snoring. Shaking your head no Toji placed his muscular arm on your waist helping you down the plane. Seeing megumi this clingy you already started missing your own son. Hoping everything was okay back at your moms house. "We only have 3 cars so please try your best to like where im assigning you all.” Your sister began naming who was going with who.

"Okay! Jiyuu your with me and my husband, Shoko and Utahime as well." Her eyes were filled with disappointment hoping she could sit with her lover. Unfortunately for her it wasn't going to work. "Toji, Y/N, and Satoru you're going with my husband sister and you can take megumi with you." The rest was a blur for you. Sitting with Satoru was already painful for you. At least you could sit with Toji and Megumi.

Entering the car you let Toji in first, "Here take Megumi, and careful with his head okay?" Laughing you could hear Tojis deep voice his muscular chest moving. "It's not my first time sitting down in the car with my kid.” Sticking your tongue out you rolled your eyes. Sitting down next to you was Satoru. Basically you were stuck in the middle with Toji and Satoru. Grabbing the small child out of Tojis grasp you put him to sit on your lap. Playing with him he couldn't help but notice the white haired man staring at you.

"Hi, im Megumi," Smiling the little child tiled his head. Satoru stared at the smile child seeing how Megumi admired your face.

"Im Satoru Gojo, your "mommy's" husband." Looking at him when he called you mommy you scoot closer to Toji. What the fuck?

"No my daddy is with mommy." Looking at Satoru he furrowed his eyebrows, randomly hugging you. You could see that Gojo had clenched his jaw when the small toddler had said that. Scoffing gojo put his hand on megumi ruffling his tiny black hair. "No." Megumi shook his head reaching towards his dad. Toji couldn't help but laugh at the embarrassing scene going on.

Pursing your lips, you tried your best not to laugh at the white-haired man in front of you. You could tell Megumi didn't like Gojo already. When Toji viewed how Gojo was getting irritated with the small child, he smiled as he thought about his small idea. Taking hold of your hand and interlocking the fingers of his hand with yours, Toji grabbed it. “Guess your my wife now, huh?” Looking at her with a smirk on his face, Toji leaned closer to you, so close that your face turned red. In an effort to clear your head, you pursed your lips in an effort to keep your thoughts straight. The tension in Gojo's veins was so intense that he could feel it bursting. Having clenched his fist, Satoru was so close to hitting the muscular man who was clearly flirting with you in order to get an edge over him that he was on the verge of hitting him. With his face even closer to yours, your faces were inches away from one another, he looked down at your lips, giving you a small wink as he looked at you. "I'm sorry you had something,” With a smile on his face he turned back to the small child in his arms and hugged him again.

Leaving you doumbfounded you glanced at Satoru to see what his reaction was like. Satoru's gaze was intense as he watched Toji toy with you you. His eyes seemed to be burning with a mixture of anger and jealousy as the man leaned in to whisper something in your ear. Satoru's fists clenched as he watched the man's hand brush against your arm. He seemed to be struggling to keep his composure as he saw you smile back at the man.

“Thanks,” looking away you tried your best to hide your flushed face. Satoru knew that Toji was doing this as punishment towards you. “We’re here.” As you stepped out of the car to see the luxurious Hotel, you couldn’t help but gasp in amazement. It was absolutely huge, not knowing how many rooms it had you were curious. Seeing your sister walk out of her Tesla she waved at you. “Hey! Watchu think?” This was one of the most beautiful things you have ever seen in your life.

“Since it's getting pretty late, I think it will be a good idea if we go rest and the next day we can go to the beach," Holding her fiancé's hand, she smiled waving goodbye to everyone before handing them the key to their hotel room. The truth is that you didn't want to sleep with Satoru at all. Since he had his mistress room, you prayed that he would stay there all night or maybe even the whole week if he had one. Thank god, he actually answered your prayers. There was a sigh of relief as everyone made their way to their rooms. Seeing Satoru follow Jiyuu, one couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as well. Entering the hotel room it was huge. It was so spacious that it even had a balcony, and although there was only one bed in it, you were grateful that you had it all to yourself. As you were already undressing yourself, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander. Thinking about how Satoru actually chose to go with Jiyuu and not stay with you. Although you knew it was over, you could not accept the fact that the man you once loved was gone. After undressing yourself, you put on some shorts and a large sweater. Hearing someone knock at your door as you were about to lie on the bed, you quickly fled to the door. As you opened it slightly, you were relieved to see a familiar face inside.

"Hey, this little guy wants to sleep with you.." Rubbing his neck, Toji couldn't help but grin, seeing your face light up made him happy. Megumi was already reaching towards you, his chubby hands trying to grasp you. Nodding, you allowed Toji into the hotel room. Not knowing where he was going to stay, he decided to sleep on the couch while you shared a bed with Megumi.

Upon closing the door, Toji couldn't help but lick his lips. He had already figured out someone was watching him, but seeing him walk into your hotel room made him smirk a little. As a result, he knew the white haired man would become absolutely feral if Toji answered the hotel room rather than you

taglist; @allofffmypeaches @wo-ming-bai @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @creolequeen11210 @yevene @doughnuts-eater @narutosagemode @lilith412426 @pandoraium @dcvilxswish @cloudsinthecosmos

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #jjk angst #cheating #jjk #gojo angst #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #dilf toji

517 notes · View notes

konigsblog · 1 year

Text

captain's punishment .

summary; you're lost in a mission, price is angry and frustrated when you finally arrive back to base, teaching you a proper lesson the right way, and punishing you for being immature.

trigger warnings; degrading, rough sex, price is mean, exhibitionism (slightly), blowjobs, gagging, hair pulling, spanking, shit writing (message me if i missed anything) mean!price x f!reader, female anatomy (afab)

read more?

to say price was upset is an understatement. he expect better, especially from you. you'd been in the tasks force for years, you were a sergeant, someone who knew better than to get lost in the middle of a mission.

he'd thought you'd died, finally hearing your voice after a few days, getting your radio to work. “this is dove, come in.” you tried, muttering out your callsign.

price was in the middle of a rescue mission, searching for you, your voice ringing in his ears. “dove? where are you?” his voice was stern and cold, you could sense the anger behind the façade of being calm. “safehouse, i'll send my location.”

you were happy to be found. living off a couple things you'd found in the safehouse, the windows smashed in and allowing octobers harsh and unforgiving wind to breeze by.

the sound of the snow crushing against his crimson stained boots, the soles engraved with blood. as soon as he was on the concrete, his footsteps became louder, alerting you of his arrival. “you here, kid?” he'd call out, his gun pointed up as he scanned the area before his gaze landed on you.

no one else was behind him, it was a solo rescue, knowing he'd find you and come back in one shape, with you clinging to his arm. his gaze hardened, gritting his teeth as he put his gun down. “fuck, dove.” he cursed lowly, under his breath, smoke coming from his mouth, unsure of whether that was the smoke from his cigar or the affects from the cold weather.

“'m sorry, price..” you averted your eyes from him, avoiding eye contact before his glover hand grasped at your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. “you stupid? never remembered you to be this immature. should've told us immediately.” price towered above you, you were safe against a couch, old and tattered.

big doe eyes stared up at him, clearly guilty. “my radio, didn't work.” you looked into his eyes, seeing you all vulnerable beneath him was something he'd never experienced. you were a strong soldier, unable of making mistakes, something he'd never expected from you until now. it made him feel something; it made his cock twitch and throb, sighing lowly.

“wanna make it up to me?” suddenly the atmosphere changed. his bulge became more visible, more prominent. you nodded shyly, his hand still lingering of your jaw til it moved to his fly. unzipping it, maintaining eye contact, seeing the desire inside your pretty and adoring eyes.

his cock springed from his boxers, half hard, slightly dripping with precum. he nudged it against your soft lips, pushing inside, groaning when you wrapped those lips around him. john's hand immediately grasped at your hair, pushing you further onto his length til you hit his base, letting out a gag, your nose tickling his pubes.

dragging you off his size, tongue flat against his shaft, head thrown back. he let go of your skull, letting you set the pace. your fingers wrapped around his girth, not meeting due to how wide he is. swirling your tongue around the tip and sucking on his generously, taking his precum and tasting it on your pink tongue.

“fuck..- girl, that's it, you slut.” he grunted loudly, gazing down at you and admiring you, the way you dragged your tongue along each vein, moans muffled, hypnotised to the metallic and bitter taste of his semen. you whined, feeling as he pulled your hair, yanking you off his dick and forcing you back down. using your throat like a fleshlight, addicted to the sounds of your struggle.

“want your cum, sir..” you coughed, whining. “mm', bet you want it inside that pretty pussy, don't you?” a whimper left your lips, nodding your head eagerly, rubbing your thighs together. “spread those legs then, butterfly.”

you leaned back against the couch, shuffling your pants off and spreading your legs. you bit your lip, hiding the sounds you wanted to let out, feeling as he traced your slit over the material of your panties, soaked and ruined. “all wet f'me.” a chuckle escaped his throat, ripping your panties off in one swift movement, causing you to squirm and squeal.

he didn't even prepare you, slowly easing into your pussy, pulling your shirt up as he bottomed out inside you. grasping at your tits and squeezing them, fully revealing your tits, his tongue encircling your hardened nipples.

full and thick balls slapped against your tight ass, which each thrust making you clench around him, unable to think of anything other than your mean captain. “had my eyes on you for a while, soldier..” he breathed out, beginning to slam into your wet pussy as his pace increased.

you mewled for him to slow down. hairy ballsack knocking against your ass, girthy and meaty cock stretching out your pussy. it was painful, yet the pleasure took your mind off it, taking over any concerns about the pain. the sensation burned in your stomach, arching your back further into him.

“such a naughty girl, aren't you? not listening to your superior, huh?!” price became more upset, grabbing you by the scalp and forcing your head down again the comfort of the couch. he started to pound into you painfully, making you choke on a sob, eyes glistening slightly.

feeling so fucked-out already, the texture of each vein lugging against your gummy and soft walls was pleasurable. his radio began making sounds, the voice familar, gaz. “y'alright, sir? haven't heard from you.” and to make it worse, he didn't stop. “yeah, at the safehouse, sending my location for helo” he spoke, the sounds of skin slapping and moans loud, definitely heard by kyle.

“s-sir-” he put a finger to his mouth, silencing you. you couldn't stop moaning and they only grew louder as you grew more needy. knowing that helo would be here soon, you knew you would have to get this over with quickly. throwing the radio onto the coffee table, starting to ram into your swollen and sore cunt harder, faster, meaner.

“fuckin' be quiet, such a loud girl, aren't you? you want them to hear you? whore.” you gasped out, his thumb stimulating your clit, rubbing it over and over again yet pulling away everytime he thought you were coming closer to your orgasm. he wanted to drag it out, make you weep and beg him, pleading for your release.

his broad hips smacked into you again, repetitive skin slapping sounds filling the rooms silence, your noises probably heard from outside the building. his grip on your head tighten, other hand running up your waist to your breasts, running back down to your hip and squeezing. his grip tightened as he held you like a ragdoll, using you like a fleshlight, his pace coming to a stop. “if you're so desperate, fuck yourself back on my cock, dove.”

you cried out, bouncing yourself back onto his weeping length, his grasp tightening more as your walls pulsed around him. “n-need you” your pretty eyes that he loved to look at rolled to the back of your head, shut tight as you clenched around him. his tip grew red and angry, signalling that he was about to come.

panties were stuffed into your mouth, the taste of your arousal quietening your whining. you could taste the sweetness on your tongue, his thumb rubbing your clit again, causing you to squirt all over him. you came around him, milking him for all his thick cum.

it oozed from your precious hole, tight and spilling potent semen from it. your chest rised and fell as you caught your breath, pulling out your cunny and grabbing his belt, spanking your painful pussy, the cries you let out making him chuckle. the material of the belt causing a ‘thwap’ sound to echo throughout the four walls, continuing to abuse your cunt, still annoyed after that mission.

“m' sorry, sir!! please-, sir-!” he spanked your thighs a few more times, slapping your clit once before pushing you up. “hm', think i've taught you a lesson, dove?” you nodded, wanting a long and cold shower to wash of the dirt sweat and grime from your skin. he pulled you up, grabbing your pants and telling you to put them on, having to wear your soaked panties beneath them.

your belt looped through the loops, tightening it before the you heard the helo. the loud sounds of it approaching alerted you two, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out with him.

sighing as you sat down, smiling at soap who looked st you confused. it was pretty obvious what happened; your hair a mess, clothes messily and sloppily put on, clearly in a rush. and your mascara was smeared, you swear you could see ghost smirking, a low laugh leaving him quietly.

“lass, your fly's undone.” johnny had a huge grin on his face, smirking at you with a look that told you ‘i know what you did’ “o-oh, i didn't notice." wincing as you felt your cunt ache and throb, fixing your pants, embarrassed as everyone knew what you and price were up to, minutes prior.

#orla speaks #price smut #john price x female reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #john price #captain john price #cod price #cod smut #call of duty smut #modern warefare 2

270 notes · View notes

devildomcuties · 13 days

Note

"Oh, shut up." "You shut up." "Make me." "Okay, but you might moan a little." With Belphegor

Hush

pairing: belphie x gn!reader

warnings: making out

Despite your best efforts, Belphie still hadn't taken a liking to you. He didn't want you dead, but he wanted you as far away from him as possible. You annoyed him more than he liked to admit. His brothers all fawned over you, doing your bidding and forming pacts like nothing. He didn't like it, but there was a tiny little bit of him that liked you.

"Lucifer wants you downstairs," you relay the message from the eldest, seeing as the youngest hadn't bothered to check his D.D.D. when Lucifer had sent out the group message. Somehow, you had befallen the horrid task of waking Belphie.

Asmo had assured you that it would be fine, he would get over it but now you weren't so sure.

"Go away," he mutters from the mountain of covers he's curled under.

"No! Lucifer said-"

"I don't care what Lucifer said. Go away!" Belphie huffs as he curls deeper into his bed, sleep clinging to his eyes, begging to take him under.

"I'm not leaving unless you're with me! Now come on!" You growl as you stomp to his bed, reaching out for the blankets to rip them off him.

Belphie's hand grips your wrist before you can touch a single blanket on his body.

"Don't you ever shut up?" He grumbles as he tugs you under the covers with him.

"Belphie!" you hiss.

"Oh, shut up." He rolls his eyes as he snuggles into his pillow further.

"You shut up!" you retort, denying to admit his little warm cocoon is much too comfy to leave but Lucifer's forehead vein was throbbing more and more with each passing minute.

"Make me," Belphie huffs as he swats you with his pillow. You use his other pillow to hit him back.

"Okay, but you might moan a little," you tease as you easily pin him down to the bed. Belphie groans as you hold his wrists over his head, your smirk makes him bite his bottom lip.

Who knew you had it in you to overpower him so easily?

"You've been nothing but a pain in my ass since I got here, Belphegor. Now, you're going to go downstairs like a good little demon and do as you're told. Got it?" You stare him down and he resists the urge to moan.

Easily, he flips the both of you over, his fingers tangled in your hair as he claims your lips with his.

You moan, kissing him back after a moment of surprise. Belphie kisses you deeper, pinning your hands over your head just like you had done to him a second ago.

"I'll be good for you, but after we're done with Lucifer, I want you back in my bed. Naked." Belphie smirks as he climbs out of bed, running his fingers through his hair before he leaves his room to join Lucifer and the others.

You watch him leave, catching your breath as you lie back and press your fingers to your lips.

That had just happened!

Lucifer shouts your name from where he waits, startling out of your thoughts as you scramble out of Belphie's bed to join the others.

#devildomcuties drabble night #obey me imagines #belphie x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me fanfic

28 notes · View notes

nidhi-writes · 19 days

Text

CHAPTER - II | BEAST OUT OF HIM

MASTERLIST

previous|current|next

As nightfall blanketed the kingdom of Mahishmati, the tension among the rebels grew palpable. Mahendra Baahubali gathered his closest allies around the campfires. The palace loomed in the distance, which had to be breached to rescue Shiya and bring down Bhallaladeva.

Devasena stood beside her son, her heart heavy with worry for Shiya and Sanga, who were back in the Village praying for their victory; how she would let down the poor mother who made sure to save and protect her child Baaubali is all Devasena could think. Though her resolve was unshakable, the fear of what Bhallaladeva might do to the girl gnawed at her. Avantika, ever vigilant, kept a close watch on the palace, her mind working through how they could rescue Shiya without jeopardizing their mission.

Mahendra turned to Kattappa, the seasoned warrior who had faithfully served his family for years. "We need a way in," Mahendra said, his voice firm. "We must free Shiya, but we can't rush in blindly. Bhallaladeva will be expecting us."

Kattappa, his face etched with the wisdom of experience, nodded. "The palace is a fortress, heavily guarded and nearly impenetrable. But there are ways that few know about—secret passages built long ago for emergencies."

The group leaned in closer, listening intently as Kattappa continued. Trying to see if they can find a way to reach the sister of Baahubali

***

Shiya paced restlessly around the lavish chamber that had become her prison, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. The ornate walls and luxurious furnishings did little to comfort her; they only served as a stark reminder of her danger. Bhallaladeva's unsettling presence still lingered in her mind, his touch and words haunting her thoughts.

She glanced around the room, her eyes darting from the heavy wooden door to the high balcony that offered no escape route. Frustration welled up inside her. How could she let herself be captured like this? How could she have allowed herself to feel anything but hatred for the man who held her captive? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. There was no time for self-pity or confusion; she needed to think clearly and find a way to get word to her brother, Shivudu.

As she scanned the room again, something caught her eye—a flutter of wings above. She saw a pair of pigeons perched on the balcony's roof. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the small bolts tied to their legs. These weren't just pigeons but messenger birds trained to carry messages long distances.

A surge of hope coursed through her veins. He would know where to find her if she could get a message to Shivudu. But she needed something to write, and the room had no ink or paper. She bit her lip, thinking quickly. Her eyes fell on the torn edge of the curtain hanging near the window— it could serve as makeshift paper.

Shiya pulled out the sharp nail she had hidden in her hair earlier, her fingers trembling slightly as she pricked the tip of her finger. A drop of blood welled up, and she winced at the pain but quickly pressed her finger to the fabric, writing out a message as best as she could with her blood.

She worked quickly, the urgency of her situation driving her hands to move faster. Once the message was complete, she tied the bloodstained fabric securely around the leg of one of the pigeons. Taking a deep breath, she whispered to the bird, willing it to understand the importance of its task.

"Please, find him. Find my brother," she whispered, her voice filled with desperation.

The pigeon cooed softly before taking flight, its wings cutting through the night air as it soared away from the palace. Shiya watched it until it disappeared into the darkness, her heart heavy with hope and fear. She could only pray that the bird would reach Shivudu in time and that her brother would understand the message and come to rescue her before it was too late.

As Baahubali and the others prepared for their final assault on Mahishmati, they gathered around a small fire, strategizing to breach the palace's defences. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. Each person knew the stakes—they were not just fighting for revenge but for the liberation of their people and the rightful return of the throne.

Suddenly, a soft rustling interrupted their discussion. A pigeon landed near the group, its wings fluttering as it settled on a rock beside them. Mahendra Baahubali's sharp eyes immediately noticed the small piece of fabric tied to its leg, darkened by what looked like ink—or something else. He quickly reached for the bird, carefully untying the message.

When he unfolded the fabric, his brow furrowed in confusion. Instead of clear writing, the message was a crude drawing, barely legible. The shapes were rough, the lines uneven, but something about it seemed oddly familiar. He showed it to Devasena, Avantika, and Kattappa, hoping for some insight.

Kattappa's eyes widened as he studied the drawing more closely. The old warrior's hand shook slightly as he recognized the scene depicted in the crude, blood-drawn image.

"This... this is the chamber that overlooks the river," Kattappa said, his voice low but firm. "I know this place. It is one of the secluded rooms in the palace, hidden from the main pathways and nearly impossible to access."

Baahubali looked at Kattappa with a mix of relief and urgency. "Are you sure, Kattappa? Is there any way we can reach it without being detected?"

Kattappa nodded. "It won't be easy. The chamber is heavily guarded, and the entrance is well-hidden."

Baahubali clenched his fists, feeling a surge of protectiveness for the sister. Shiya, though not bound to him by blood, was still his sister by heart, and he would not let Bhallaladeva use her as a pawn.

This time, Bhallaladeva's cruelty would not go unanswered.

***

Shiya winced as she tried to stop the bleeding from her finger, realizing too late that she had pricked herself harder than intended. The makeshift bandage she had created from the torn curtain was quickly soaked with blood, and her attempts to stem the flow only seemed to make it worse.

Suddenly, the door to the chamber swung open, and Bangaru Amma entered, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene. The elderly caretaker had been tasked with looking after Shiya, but she hadn't expected to find the young woman injured.

"What have you done, child?" Bangaru Amma exclaimed, rushing to Shiya's side. Without waiting for a response, she called out for assistance, her voice filled with urgency.

As the night deepened, Shiya sat alone on her chamber's balcony, tears streaming down her face. The once vivid hope that her message might reach her brother had faded into a gnawing despair. The bleeding from her finger had finally stopped, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional torment she endured. She desperately yearned for any sign indicating help was coming, but the silence was deafening.

The cool night breeze did little to comfort her as she stared out into the darkness, her mind replaying the terrifying events of the day. How could everything have spiralled out of control so quickly? How had she ended up in the clutches of a man as cruel and relentless as Bhallaladeva?

Her sombre reflection was abruptly interrupted by Bangaru Amma's soft, concerned voice calling her from the doorway. Shiya quickly wiped her tears, attempting to compose herself as the elderly woman approached.

"Come, child," Bangaru Amma said gently, her tone laced with concern. "You need to eat. The King is waiting."

Shiya's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Bhallaladeva. Confusion and dread twisted her insides as Bangaru Amma led her out of the chamber and down the dimly lit corridors. Her thoughts raced, wondering what fresh torment awaited her.

Shiya's breath caught as they entered the grand dining room. At the head of the long, elaborately adorned table sat Bhallaladeva, his piercing eyes fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

Shiya hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot as she took in the sight of him. He looked almost regal, an imposing figure exuding an air of absolute authority. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, giving him an even more menacing aura.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

Shiya reluctantly moved forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she sat at the far end of the table. She glanced nervously at the servants meticulously laying out a sumptuous feast before them. But before she could fully process what was happening, Bhallaladeva's voice cut through the air.

"Leave us," he ordered, and the servants instantly obeyed, hurrying out of the room without a word, leaving the two of them alone.

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the soft clinking of Bhallaladeva's utensils as he began to eat. Shiya, however, remained frozen, staring down at the untouched food before her. How could she even think about eating when her thoughts were consumed by the dangers her family and friends were facing outside these walls? They were out there, risking everything to save her and bring down the very man sitting across from her. The mere thought of it made her stomach turn.

"What's the matter?" Bhallaladeva's voice, cold and laced with mockery, broke the silence. "Is the food not to your liking?"

Shiya's heart raced as she swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. The food was the least of her concerns, but how could she explain that to a man like Bhallaladeva, who seemed to revel in her discomfort?

Her eyes darted nervously to the doorway, hoping for an escape, but she knew none. She was trapped here, and he was well aware of it. Every second in his presence felt like a dangerous game, one where she had no control and could only hope to survive.

Bhallaladeva's gaze remained fixed on her, waiting for an answer. When she didn't respond, he leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips. "You seem distracted, little bird. You should eat. After all, you'll need your strength."

Shiya's hands clenched into fists under the table as she forced herself to meet his gaze. His words were meant to unsettle her, and they succeeded. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Taking a deep breath, she replied, her voice trembling slightly, "I'm not hungry."

Bhallaladeva's smirk widened, clearly amused by her defiance. "Not hungry? Or perhaps you're too worried about your little friends out there? I assure you, they won't be able to help you."

Shiya's stomach churned with a mix of fear and anger. She hated how he toyed with her, how he seemed to take pleasure in her suffering. But she couldn't let him see how deeply his words affected her. Instead, she forced herself to remain composed, even as her heart screamed with anxiety for those she loved.

"They'll come," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper but with a conviction that surprised even her. "They'll come for me."

Bhallaladeva's eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and amusement. "We'll see about that," he murmured, his tone dark and ominous.

As the tense silence stretched on, Bhallaladeva continued eating, his sharp eyes occasionally glancing at Shiya, who still hadn't touched her food. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, and the flickering candlelight cast shadows on her pale, worried face.

Suddenly, Bhallaladeva broke the silence, his voice deceptively calm but laced with malice. "You know, Shiya, I've been thinking," he began, leaning back in his chair. "About your brother."

Shiya's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her brother. She forced herself to remain still, unwilling to show him how much his words affected her. But she couldn't stop the slight tremor that passed through her.

"Tell me," Bhallaladeva continued, almost casually, "is he truly the great brother you believe him to be? Or does he take all the glory and attention, leaving you in the shadows, aching for just a sliver of love?"

Shiya's eyes snapped up to meet his, her gaze filled with confusion and defiance. What was he trying to do? Was this just another of his twisted games, or was he trying to sow seeds of doubt in her mind?

Bhallaladeva smirked at her reaction, clearly pleased that he had struck a nerve. "I've seen it before, you know," he continued, his voice smooth and taunting. "Siblings who their more 'heroic' brothers overshadow. It can be... suffocating, can't it? Always being the one left behind, the one who has to fend for herself while her brother basks in the glory."

Shiya clenched her jaw, refusing to be drawn into his twisted narrative. "My brother loves me," she said, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. "He would never abandon me."

Bhallaladeva chuckled darkly, leaning forward slightly as he studied her. "Ah, love. It's such a powerful word. But love doesn't always mean equality. Sometimes, love means sacrifice. And sometimes, it means being left alone in the dark while your brother stands in the spotlight."

Shiya's chest tightened, her mind flashing back to memories of her childhood with Mahendra. He had always been protective of her, always the one to shield her from harm. But Bhallaladeva's words gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, twisting them into something dark and insidious.

Seeing the flicker of doubt in her eyes, Bhallaladeva pressed on, his voice a low whisper that seemed to echo in the vast dining hall. "Tell me, Shiya, when was the last time you truly felt seen by your brother? When was the last time he looked at you and saw you for who you are, not just as his little sister, but as a person with her own needs, her desires?"

Shiya's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the table's edge, struggling to maintain her composure. She knew what Bhallaladeva was trying to do, yet his words struck a chord deep within her. Mahendra had always been the hero everyone looked up to and destined for greatness. And she had always been... just his sister. The one in the background, the one who followed, the one who...

No. She wouldn't let Bhallaladeva manipulate her like this. She wouldn't let him poison her mind against her brother. Shiya took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Bhallaladeva's gaze with newfound resolve.

"Mahendra is a good brother," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "He's always been there for me and always will be. You can try to twist things all you want, but you won't succeed."

Bhallaladeva noticed the tension in Shiya's posture, the way her hands gripped the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the way her resolve wavered with each word he spoke. Sensing he was getting under her skin, he slowly rose from his seat and walked around the table, standing beside her.

"You know," he said softly, his voice a deadly whisper that curled around her like smoke, "it's not a crime to admit that sometimes you feel... overlooked. You wish you were the one your mother adored and who received all the love and attention."

Shiya's breath hitched, her eyes widening as his words hit too close to home. Memories from her childhood began to surface—moments when she had felt so alone, so overshadowed by her brother. She remembered how her mother's eyes lit up whenever Mahendra was near, how she seemed to pour all her affection into him, leaving Shiya with just the scraps. No matter how much she loved her brother, she couldn't deny the ache in her heart, the longing to be seen and loved just as much.

Bhallaladeva watched her closely, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he saw the tears begin to form in her eyes. "Yes," he murmured, his tone almost gentle now, "you've always been second, haven't you? Always in the background, always the afterthought. You've had to fight for every scrap of attention while he takes it all without a second thought."

Shiya's vision blurred as tears welled up, her heart twisting painfully with each word he said. The truth in his taunts was like a knife to her soul, cutting deeper than she ever thought possible. But even as the tears fell, her love for her brother remained steadfast. She loved him with all her heart, even if she had always been in his shadow.

But something inside her snapped. The pain, the frustration, the years of feeling like she was never enough—it all came boiling to the surface in a white-hot rage. With a scream of fury, she stood up abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor behind her. In one swift motion, she grabbed the plate in front of her and smashed it to the ground, the sound of breaking porcelain echoing through the room.

Before realising what she was doing, her hand closed around a knife set on the table. Driven by raw emotion, she lunged at Bhallaladeva, her eyes blazing with anger as she aimed the blade at his face. But he was quicker. With a smirk that showed just how much he had been waiting for this moment, he effortlessly caught her wrist, stopping the knife just inches from his skin.

Shiya struggled against him, but he was far too strong. He twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to drop the knife with a clatter. She gasped in pain, her tears flowing freely now as he used his other hand to grab her by the throat, tilting her head back so she was forced to look up at him.

"Ah, there it is," Bhallaladeva whispered, his voice filled with cruel satisfaction. "The fire I knew was inside you. But look how easily you break, little bird. How quickly you lose control."

He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, his grip on her throat tightening just enough to remind her of his power. "Did you think you could hurt me?" he taunted, his smirk widening as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Do you see now how futile it is to fight me? How easily I can crush you, just like that?"

Shiya's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she struggled to hold on to what little strength she had left. She hated him—hated how he had manipulated her, how he had pushed her to this breaking point. But more than anything, she hated how powerless she felt in that moment, entirely at his mercy.

Bhallaladeva's eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he studied her, his smirk never fading. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "You can scream, you can cry, you can fight all you want, but in the end, Shiya, you belong to me. You always will."

With that, he released her abruptly, letting her stumble back, her hands instinctively flying to her throat as she gasped for air. She fell to her knees, her body trembling with a mix of fear, anger, and despair. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest.

Bhallaladeva looked down at her, his expression one of cold satisfaction. "You're mine, Shiya," he said softly, almost tenderly. "And there's nothing you can do to change that."

As Bhallaladeva turned to leave, Shiya, still on her knees, felt a surge of desperation mixed with confusion. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, of the torment he was putting her through. Why her? Why was she the one he had fixated on? Gathering what little strength she had left, she called out, her voice shaky but determined.

"Why me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper at first but growing louder. "Why do you want me, Bhallaladeva? You could have anyone—someone who would willingly stand by your side. Why are you doing this to me? It's senseless... all these things you say, all this torment. Why?"

Bhallaladeva paused mid-stride, his back still facing her. There was only silence for a moment, the tension in the room so thick it was almost suffocating. Then, slowly, he turned around to face her, his expression inscrutable.

He approached her again, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each echoing ominously in the quiet chamber. Shiya's heart pounded as she watched him, her fear and confusion mixing into a chaotic storm of emotions. When he finally stopped in front of her, he looked down at her with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Why you?" he repeated softly as if contemplating the question himself. He lifted her chin with one finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Why not you, Shiya? Why not someone like you—so full of fire and spirit, yet so fragile beneath it all?"

His words sent a chill down her spine, but she didn't look away. "That's not an answer," she replied, trembling. "You're making no sense. You don't know me. You don't even care about me. So why...?"

Bhallaladeva's expression darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "You're right," he admitted, his voice low and dangerous. "I could have anyone. But it's precisely because I can have anyone that I choose you. Because you're a challenge, Shiya. Because you fight back. And because, despite everything, you don't bend easily to my will."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And that intrigues me. It excites me. You see, it's not about love or care, Shiya. It's about power. It's about breaking that spirit of yours and making you mine, completely and utterly. That's why you, Shiya. Because the harder you resist, the more satisfying it will be when you finally submit."

His words struck her like a physical blow, her heart sinking as the full weight of his intentions became clear. It wasn't about her, not really. It was about control, about domination. She was nothing more than a prize to him, a conquest to be won.

Shiya felt tears welling up in her eyes again, but she fought them back, refusing to let him see how deeply his words had wounded her. "You're a monster," she whispered, her voice shaking with fear and defiance.

Bhallaladeva's lips curled into a dark smile as if her words only confirmed his already-knowledge. "Perhaps," he said calmly, "but you're still mine, Shiya. And no amount of fighting will change that."

Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out of her mouth, fueled by a mixture of anger, desperation, and a desire to regain some sense of control over her life, even if it meant surrendering it.

"Why wait, then?" Shiya's voice, though shaky, rang out clear and sharp in the chamber's silence. Bhallaladeva froze with a look of mild surprise and interest. She could see the curiosity in his eyes as he observed her, but she pressed on before her courage could fail her.

"Why waste time?" she continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "If you want to break me, to make me yours, then do it. Show me who you are. Show me your power. Do whatever it is you want to do, Bhallaladeva. Because I'm tired... tired of waiting, of fearing what's coming next. If you want to break me, then break me. Just... get it over with so I can finally be free."

Her heart pounded as she finished, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She wasn't sure where this sudden courage had come from, but it was there, burning brightly within her. Perhaps it was the only way she could fight back—by confronting him head-on, calling out his bluff, and showing that she wasn't afraid of what he might do.

Bhallaladeva stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Slowly, a dark and dangerous smile spread across his face, somehow pleased.

"You think you can handle that, little bird?" he asked softly, his voice dripping with malice and amusement. "You think you can endure what I have in store for you? You're braver than I thought, Shiya... or perhaps just more foolish."

Shiya's pulse quickened, but she held his gaze, refusing to back down. "It's not about bravery or foolishness," she replied, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "It's about survival. If you're going to break me, then do it. But know this—I won't make it easy for you. I won't give in without a fight."

Bhallaladeva chuckled, a low, sinister sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, Shiya," he murmured, his grip on her chin tightening just enough to make her wince. "You truly are a fascinating creature. So determined to hold onto your pride, even in the face of your own destruction."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered in her ear, "But remember, this was your choice. You wanted to see my power... and I'll show it to you. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Bhallaladeva watched her for a moment longer, his smile never wavering. Shiya stood there for an eternity, her body trembling with fear and resolve. She had no idea what was coming next but knew one thing: she would face it on her terms, no matter the cost.

Bhallaladeva's gaze locked onto Shiya's lips, his eyes darkening with a mix of desire and something more dangerous. The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and suffocating. In the heat of the moment, before Shiya could process what was happening, Bhallaladeva closed the distance between them and smashed his lips against hers. Her breath ignited a fire that burned hotter than ever before. He effortlessly lifted her off the ground and placed them on the table, his grip firm and possessive.

The kiss was fierce, almost brutal in its intensity. Shiya was caught off guard and initially stiffened, but something within her snapped. All the anger, fear, and frustration she had been holding onto erupted, and she found herself kissing him back with equal fervour. Their lips clashed, a battle of wills as much as a physical connection, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Their tongues tangled in a passionate battle for dominance, teeth clashing with an intensity that mirrored their desire.

Bhalla's hands roamed freely over Shiya's body, tracing the curves of her waist and hips. The sound of their moans filled the room.

Shiya squirmed beneath Bhalla's touch, torn between surrendering entirely to his desires and clinging to what little control she had left. Her mind screamed for him to take charge, to ravage her senseless and leave no inch of her untouched.

As they finally pulled apart, their breathing ragged, Shiya's mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, and she realized with a jolt that her saree had become dishevelled in the chaos, barely covering her anymore. Bhallaladeva's eyes roamed over her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, smudged lips, and the tears welling up in her eyes.

For a long moment, neither spoke; their laboured breathing was the only sound in the room. Shiya could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she blinked them back, refusing to let him see her break. But the evidence of their passionate encounter was all too clear—her trembling body, the disarray of her clothes, and the lingering taste of him on her lips.

Bhallaladeva's expression was unreadable, but his eyes were filled with a hunger that terrified and enthralled her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle given the roughness of what had just transpired.

"You truly are something, Shiya," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze flicked down to her heaving chest, then back up to her tear-filled eyes. "So much fire... so much spirit."

Shiya's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she wondered what would happen next. But instead of continuing, Bhallaladeva stepped back, his hand falling away from her face. He gave her one last lingering look, his smirk returning as he took in her dishevelled appearance.

"You may try to fight me, little bird," he said softly, almost as if to himself, "but in the end, you belong to me. No matter how much you resist... you will always come back to me."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Shiya standing there, her body still trembling from the intensity of their encounter. As the door closed behind him, the tears she had been holding back finally spilt over, and she sank to the floor, her hands covering her face as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

***

Shiya's moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the room. Bhalla, with his warrior's arms, held her in place and from moving away as his mouth worked on their sweet cunt of hers. His tongue worked its magic, exploring every inch of her cunt with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Shiya writhed beneath him, her naked body arching as waves of ecstasy washed over her. Sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down the curve of her neck, evidence of the intensity of their passion. She doesn't remember how and why she got into this situation, but all her thoughts in her mind vanished when he placed his mouth on her to drink away her soul.

"Please...Ple.." Shiya whimpered, trying to form a sentence; her body couldn't take any more pressure, and everything was new. Bhalla could feel the heat radiating from her, fueling his own arousal.

But as he buried his face between Shiya's thighs, a fleeting hesitation flickered in his eyes. He pulled away slightly, looking up at her with a mischievous smirk. The sight caused Shiya's breath to catch in her throat, but she couldn't deny its effect on her.

"Is that all you've got?" Bhalla taunted playfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I expected more from my little queen."

Shiya squirmed beneath him, frustration mingling with desire. Her body craved his touch, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

"Looks like your brother who couldn't finish his fight ow with me and only to be killed by mine. His sister is too weak to take the pleasure that a King gives to her" Bhalla's words caused SHoya to freeze. Her eyes flickered to the figure beside her—Baahubali, her beloved brother, lying motionless on the cold stone floor. His once vibrant eyes, full of life and determination, now stared lifelessly at the ceiling, blood pooling around his body.

"No..No!" Shiya screamed, which only agitated Bhalla as he laughed out loud.

Shiya awoke with a start, her breath shallow and uneven as her eyes looked around to find herself alone in the chamber, and it was all a dream. Bhallaldeva's touch lingered, his hands searing her flesh as if he had never left. She could still feel the way he had consumed her entirely, leaving her hollow and broken. She also could feel the pool of wetness that was in between her thighs; she bit her lips to whimper and to erase the sight of how her dream portrayed the death of her brother.

It's like Bhalla is the devil, and he is slowly consuming her. But the scary part is she liked and wanted more of him in her.

TO BE CONTINUED

____________________________________________________________

taglist: @mahi-wayy @ahamasmiyodhah @whippersnappersbookworm @harinishivaa @mayakimayahai @gloriouspurpose01 @jkdaddy01 @whyishekinda @salaarfanindia @aprofoundrickmaniac @toomanyfanficsbruh @willkatfanfromasia

#bhallaldevaxreader #bhalladeva x fem!oc #bhallaladeva x oc #baahubali #baahubali fanfic #baahubali the conclusion #rana daggubati #desiblr #desi tumblr #indian fanfic #smut #sounth indian fanfic #desi tag

28 notes · View notes

invaderlynx · 10 months

Text

There’s a common headcanon that Bly took his own life after realizing what he’d done during Order 66. My brain decided to make that ten times worse for some reason:

Bly is a very competent officer. He’s a marshal commander—and a damn good one at that. For that reason, I can’t see him killing himself on a campaign, either by enemy fire or otherwise. He wouldn’t want to leave his men in a lurch, make more trouble for them than he had to, or endanger them in any way. So I’d have to imagine that if he had suicidal designs, he’d probably act on them while on leave. And where exactly do most troopers end up on leave? Coruscant.

____

Fox gets the call early in the morning. The war’s been over for weeks, but he’s still bone-tired. The fighting may be finished, but Coruscant has never conformed to the war’s schedule. He’s just as busy as he was before, if not more so. It weighs on him. Heavily.

The message is simple enough. A clone officer was found dead in his quarters with a blaster bolt through his brain, apparently self-inflicted. Fox doesn’t blame him, the poor bastard. Force knows he’s seen his fair share of suicides. Hell, he’s considered it himself.

Since the clone was a high ranking officer of the GAR, standard protocol dictates that the military police examine the body to rule out any evidence of foul play. Fox is about to dispatch a forensic squad when he finally gets to the CC number associated with the request. His blood runs cold. CC-5052.

Fox doesn’t send the requisite medical team. He goes himself. He’d trust his men with his life, but he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to care for his brother. His vod’ika.

____

The last time he saw Bly was months before the end of the war. Months before the incident with Rex’s ARC, before everything fell apart.

It was the last time all four of them were together. Wolffe, Cody, Bly, and himself, all crammed into a little back room booth at 79’s. Fox can’t remember what they were celebrating that day. Perhaps it was just the fact that they were all together again.

Bly was just on the wrong side of tipsy—his tattooed cheeks flushed red and glowing in the neon light—but he was happy. Cody was goading him on about something having to do with General Secura. Like he was any better, the hypocrite. Wolffe had loudly pointed this out and then promptly spilled his drink when Cody gave him a shove.

Fox felt lighter that night than he had in weeks, the bone-deep stress of Coruscant dissipating in the presence of his brothers. Surrounded by the people he loved most in the galaxy with the warm thrum of liquor in his veins, the war seemed distant. The incessant demands of the chancellor and Senate could wait, at least for a few hours. The most pressing thing for him right now was trying to rescue his drink from Cody and Wolffe’s play-fighting.

When the night was over, Fox was saddled with the task of getting Bly back to his rooms in one piece. The whole way Bly had gushed into Fox’s shoulder about “Aayla”, his face pressed into the plastoid of Fox’s armor as his brother carried him back. By the end, the sight of his quarters had been a relief. Fox was about ready to strangle him.

Before he’d gone Bly had hugged him, pulled him in for the most uncoordinated keldabe Fox thinks he’d ever seen, and told him he loved him. Fox can’t remember now if he’d said it back. Maker, he hopes he’d said it back.

____

Fox hesitates at the door to Bly’s quarters. His heart thuds painfully in his chest and his hands shake worse than they ever did during the war. There’s a tight, white-hot fear that’s coiled in his gut, freezing him in place. He forces himself to take a few breaths, ignoring its desperate, keening warnings.

He punches in the door code and steps inside.

There’s no mistaking the corpse that lies before him. Any lingering hope that his brother might still be alive, that there’s been a mistake, dies in his chest.

He makes the executive decision to spare Bly the indignity of an autopsy. Call it commander’s privilege. He knows enough forensics to realize that the wound was self-inflicted. He knows enough about Bly too.

He handles the body like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever carried. He gently arranges his brother’s bent limbs, straightens his uniform, closes his eyes. It won’t matter, his remains will be cremated all the same no matter how he looks, but it matters to Fox.

____

He escorts the hover stretcher to the crematorium—an honor guard of one. He’s not sure whether Bly would appreciate the gesture. They hadn’t spoken since Fox had killed that ARC, since he had been summarily declared “dar’manda”. He’s certain he wouldn’t be Bly’s first choice of pallbearer, but their other brothers are scattered across the galaxy or else marching on. Fox will have to do.

The guardsman on duty seems nervous. He’s a shiny and has likely never been around an officer for this long before, let alone one of Fox’s rank. He looks like he wants to ask something. Fox hopes he won’t. He doesn’t trust himself to speak at the moment.

Fox waits as the body is incinerated, standing at parade rest as the flames cast shadows through the small transparisteel window of the capsule. There won’t be anything to take back. This crematorium was designed to handle clone casualties that were never meant to be buried. Whatever ash is left over will be sent to a Coruscant waste facility automatically.

Fox waits anyway.

Even with the best technology the Republic has to offer, the process still takes about an hour. The kid informs him when it’s over, his voice barely above a squeak. Maker, he’s young. Fox thanks him, taking care to make sure his voice doesn’t shake. Were he and his brothers that young when they left Kamino?

The walk back to his office is torture. It takes every shred of discipline Kamino ever instilled in him to keep from breaking down. He measures his breaths, his strides, all the way down to his very heartbeat to keep up the appearance of the dutiful commander he’s meant to be.

It’s a mercy when he finally arrives at his destination. The moment the office door is locked behind him his facade cracks. His legs give out at last and he braces his back against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest. He rips off his helmet, letting it clatter unceremoniously at his side. He curls in on himself. His body shakes with wracking sobs. His vod’ika is gone. He’s gone marching on somewhere Fox can’t follow.

#tw: suicide #commander fox #commander bly #clone wars #tcw #commander cody #commander wolffe #blyla #mentioned codywan #post order 66 #coruscant guard

105 notes · View notes

apteryxparvus · 1 year

Text

L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R — chapter 5

Chapter five — Grande Belladonna iced tea with 4 pumps of “Please forget this ever happened”, please

Pairing — Scaramouche / Female Reader

Content warning — swearing • mentions of bullying • brief mention of psychedelic substances

Summary: In a twist of unfortunate events, you find out that being exposed as the target of Kunikuzushi middle school bullying escapades was just the beginning of your troubles. To your dismay, you’re thrown even deeper into the glamorous but artificial world of celebrities. Oh, and the cherry on top? You’re forced to pretend to be in a long-term romantic relationship with none other than said ex-bully. All because of a careless misclick by his social media manager.

prev • masterlist • next

It’s early noon when you slowly open your eyes, the world seeming hazy. Your dry mouth and heavy eyelids serve as reminders of the previous night. Glancing around your room, you note the evidence scattered in the corner — the empty bottle of raki and cups, snack packets, and plates.

With a groan, you rise from the bed and stretch your weary limbs, suppressing a yawn. The tempting aroma of freshly roasted coffee wafts through the air, accompanied by the scent of a mouthwatering breakfast. Following your senses, you make your way to the kitchen, the soft padding of your sock-clad feet barely making a sound along the hallway.

“Morning,” Alhaitam greets you with a brief glance as he expertly flips a msemen in the air, the flatbread landing back in the pan with a sizzle. He’s wearing a novelty apron — a gag gift from Kaveh — adorned with the words “I Beat My Meat” and a playful illustration of a tiny, round creature tenderizing a steak.

Your attention turns to Kaveh, slumped over the kitchen table, his face buried in his hands as he groans softly in discomfort. A steaming cup of coffee sits beside him.

“How—how much did we drink last night?” you inquire.

“A whole bottle of raki before I had managed to finish the dinner preparations.” Alhaitam’s deadpan response leaves you wide-eyed. It all explains the raging hangover.

He suggests you take a seat and grab a coffee, while he finishes the crispy pancakes. You settle next to Kaveh, cradling your own mug of liquid relief, and observe as Alhaitam skillfully finishes his task.

He arranges the flatbread, arranging the pieces in three portions, and places them on the table. You gently nudge Kaveh awake, and he stirs from his light slumber. Alhaitam adds the final touch to the table — a jar of homemade honey and some soft butter, along with small bowls of nuts and raisins.

“You should probably check your Twitter,” Alhaitam suggests, casually dipping his msemen in the soft honey. Confusion clouds your mind for a moment, but within moments, the hazy recollections from the previous night rush back. Vaguely, you can recall venting to Kaveh about the whole Scaramouche bullying scandal, and unleashing your pent up frustration as a long twitter rant.

Panic sets in and a sharp ache throbs in your head.

With trembling hands, you unlock your phone and navigate to your Twitter app. Dread courses through your veins, you don’t feel ready to face the consequences of your drunken actions. The thought of the post and of the numerous quote retweets and comments fills you with embarrassment. You delete the post, desperate to erase your public outburst. Taking a deep breath, you navigate to your account settings and switch your profile to private.

Your heart pounds, as you muster the courage to open your message inbox. You silently pray that the vague memory of you insulting Scaramouche is just a mere figment of your imagination.

“Fuck.”

Author’s note: updates might get a bit more sporadic, sorry about that 😅 also, i decided to add the header image to all chapters, so now i gotta go back and fix the previous ones... sigh

psa, dont go ingesting weird plants u see just cuz they're pretty, okei?

Taglist — @scaramoo @bananasquash @yukiipc @theblueblub @feiherp @scarletttcroww @farelady-fate @skyoverkill1 @reversearrowhead @magica-ren @sakurapeach

#smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smau #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #scaramouche #wanderer #wanderer x you #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x reader #lover = loser smau

107 notes · View notes

lacheri · 2 years

Note

me, starry-eyed and sniffling after reading ur ask u sent me, humbly requesting 56 for your prompt event ;; <3 ORRRRR 144 take your pick hehe

me, fawning over ur every word and staring at u with absolute adoration in my eyes, earnestly telling u ily and i would crawl on the floor and bark if u asked me to

cw: no warnings. this is pure tooth rotting fluff. it'll give u a stomach ache guaranteed. an extreme use of the word "ever". minors/ageless blogs dni!

wc: 1k

prompt event: taking prompts until midnight est! <3

56. "Just marry me already."

Garlic — you can smell the aroma before you even step foot into your house, nearly breaking down into hysterical tears on the front porch. Without any context, you look ridiculous. You know this, which is what keeps those sobs at bay, but with context, well — just about anyone would lose their composure on the spot.

You’ve just arrived home after an incredibly hellish day of work, so busy you had to forgo a lunch break in order to complete your tasks. (They’re still incomplete, but that’s going to have to be a problem for Monday. You hit your mental limit an hour into your shift.) Your back is aching, daring to snap in half without any warning. You’re miserable, starving, and you’re in desperate need of comfort.

And comfort currently smells like garlic and looks like your beautiful, thoughtful boyfriend, Levi.

Your fingers wrap around the door handle, shoes crossing the entryway, and you can hardly contain yourself. Your eyes well up, the subtle hint of seasonings morphing into an overwhelming aura, and you can hardly see Levi move around your home to set up the dinner table.

He has always been incredibly great at bringing you peace, but this is next level. One text is all you sent today, a short message about how shitty your day was going. Nothing of extraordinary detail, just that you hated your job and missed him. That was it.

Levi decided to cook for you in response? To ease your stress, to make your day just slightly better? He even dressed nice, adorning a thick navy colored sweater you’d bought him just a month ago, tucked in at the belt, disappearing into the black of his tailored trousers.

The jingle of keys and the creak of the front door brings his focus to you, your lips in a pronounced pout, unable to move.

“That bad huh?” Levi frowns, already making the strides to greet you where you stand.

You nod, afraid that if you speak, you really will cry. He releases a quiet chuckle, embracing you tightly, his palm cradling the back of your head. His fingers press into your scalp, massaging patterns and kissing at your forehead.

Eventually the emotion rolls off your body thanks to the soothings of Levi, and you’re able to take a deep breath, “Yeah. It was bad.”

“You’re home now,” he hums, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Why don’t you get changed and we can eat?”

“What, into something fancy?” You half smile, bringing your attention to his outfit. “You look like you’re about to take me on a date to a fancy restaurant or something.”

“A date to our kitchen table, yes,” Levi teases, his lashes fluttering as he follows your gaze. “Put on whatever you want. I just wanted to dress up for you, to make you feel special or whatever.”

You can’t help yourself from stealing a kiss after he says something like that. He’s so cute it breaks your heart.

“Just marry me already,” you mumble against his lips, so velveteen and warm.

Levi freezes entirely, body going rigid under your attention. The loss of air against your mouth signals to you that he has stopped breathing. You pull away, panic coursing through your veins.

You’ve never really discussed marriage with Levi, hardly ever even have joked about it. Yeah, you’ve been dating for what seems like an eternity, but you never felt the need to test Levi’s loyalty in the form of a diamond ring and an exchanging of vows. For all intensive purposes, you act like you’re married already. You live together, eat meals together, spend every waking moment beside one another — you don’t really need a piece of documentation to declare your love, so neither of you have ever brought it up.

Levi doesn’t have commitment issues, it’s just that he’s a creature of habit. Your relationship is a habit he’s accustomed to, and perhaps you’ve just ruined a nice moment with a thoughtless joke.

Maybe Levi hates the idea of getting married. With the way he just reacted, you assume you’re probably correct.

“It was a joke! Not that I mean I don’t want to marry you! We’ve never talked about it, I wasn’t even thinking I’m so sorry! It’s just, Levi this was so nice of you, and I’ve had the worst day of my life and you’re so thoughtful and sweet and cute and—“

A deep, aggravated sigh cuts you off. His eyes roll in his skull before landing directly on yours, a humored smirk on his lips.

“I guess I have to do this now then.”

“Do what?” you ask hesitantly.

“Ask you to marry me, stupid.”

You’re the one unable to breathe now, jaw dropping and brain malfunctioning.

He laughs, running a hand over his face, “You really had to say that and steal my thunder? I had a plan. It was going so well too.”

“You’re serious?” you wheeze.

“Of course I’m serious. There’s a ring shoved in a breadstick on the counter. Took me forever to get it in there too. Apparently butter melts on hot things, so I had to wash the ring so it wouldn’t be disgusting when you put it on—“

“Yes!” you scream, jumping up and down and throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Yes I’ll marry you!”

“I didn’t properly ask you yet!” Levi responds, but the sound is muffled in your shoulder.

“I don’t care, yes,” you sniffle, peppering teary kisses onto his neck. “A hundred times, yes. You didn’t have to ask me, it’s yes.”

He softens, holding you tighter to his frame. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Didn’t need to make this a big deal.”

“Shut up,” you chuckle. “It’s a big deal.”

“Here’s the new plan, technically the same plan but,” Levi maneuvers his hands to rest on your cheeks, thumbing away your straying tears. “You’re going to go into the bedroom, you’re going to get changed, and we’re going to sit down to eat. You’re going to carefully open the bread I hand you, and you’re going to act surprised when I get down on my knee and ask you to be my wife. Okay?”

“I love you,” your bottom lip wobbles. “I love you so much.”

“Okay?” He presses, his mouth blossoming into a grin.

You nod enthusiastically, on the verge of hyperventilating, “Okay.”

“Now,” Levi kisses the tip of your nose. “Hurry up so I can propose to you, idiot.”

#lacheri prompts #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader

196 notes · View notes

yuriko-mukami · 3 months

Text

Her Calamity Dark 06

Beta reader: @ruki-mukami-dl

Chapter Selection

Finally home. I had not been away for that long, but it was obvious that days had passed for Yuriko, and I did not like the idea in the least. I trusted my brothers to keep her safe and my familiars had delivered the same message but it bothered me when I could not keep my eyes on her, knowing what exactly she was doing.

“Welcome home, Ruki-kun~” Kou was the first to greet me when I stepped in. Another reason to make my shoulders tense. Where was my angel?

“Kou… I’m back.” I sighed while glancing around.

“If you’re looking for Yuriko-chan, she’s upstairs in your room since she was sure you wouldn’t appreciate it if she was loitering around the hall…”

“Why would I not appreciate —?”

“Why indeed? That is the question, Ruki-kun~ I would love to know the answer… and see your face as well~”

I had not been a minute at home, and Kou was already picking my nerves. Was he annoyed because I had asked him to take Yuriko to meet Elizabeth and watch over them? I had promised to compensate him for that, so it should have not been a problem.

“You make no sense, Kou. And I am tired.” I headed to the stairs. There was a distant aching in my temples and I did not need more right now. I did not know what to tell my brothers or Yuriko about the situation with the Founders. Since Yuriko was close to Elizabeth who was fond of the Tsukinamis, it was probably better to keep her out of this. Then again, she was growing closer to my brothers as well. If I revealed what I had learned from Karlheinz-sama, would there be a chance that someone could slip the matter out during dinner or some other inconvenient time?

“I bet she’s going to melt that frown from your face~ Have fun, Ruki-kun~” Kou’s voice poked my ears even though I was already climbing up. “Oh, and don’t forget my reward. For the task and the surprise~ Do not worry, I didn’t peek though.”

“Haa… later, Kou.” Stepping into the hallway, I glanced down. There was a disturbingly smug smirk on my brother’s face. It was obvious that he had been up to no good but I had bigger worries right now.

Tsukinami Shin had said I owed him one. He was not incorrect. Unfortunately. But I also owed my whole life to Karlheinz-sama and I had given my heart in Yuriko’s hands. Other than that, Karlheinz-sama had directly told me not to sway from my path, for he did not wish to remove his paws. I did not want to cause him problems but I could not put Yuriko in danger… and it was clear that the First Bloods had a connection with the Kitsune. Yuriko’s grandfather had referred to Shin as Shin-sama.

Sooner or later I might need to betray my word for Tsukinami Shin. But not yet, for I had not secured my angel’s safety. I would not let the Kitsune take her. No matter what, I would keep her for myself.

With these thoughts pressing on my shoulders, I pulled my room’s door open and roamed in. There was rustling from the couch that instantly made me turn my head. Yuriko pushed a book aside, getting up while tugging a short hem down her thighs.

I swallowed.

The light blue dress barely covered Yuriko’s delicious sweet spots. The neckline caressed her shoulders while the azure straps of her bra were out in the open, the cups’ lace peeking from the dress. Her cleavage heaved up and down at the pace of her breathing.

“Welcome home, Ruki~” A shivering whisper.

Finally, I was able to tear my gaze up Yuriko’s neck. She had tied an azure thread around it as if she were a gift to be opened. The teal pools stared at me through her glasses while teeth dug into her plump bottom lip.

With only a few steps, I was right next to her. “Do not bite what is mine.” I ran my thumb over her lips. “I am the only one who is allowed to hurt you. Do you understand, Yuriko?”

“I… I… yes…”

Fuck, her heart was bouncing so fast. It was luring me in as it made her blood rush through her veins. I wanted to sink my fangs into her throat. I wanted to hurt her ever-so-sweetly, give her the most delicious pain that would eventually turn into pleas of pleasure. The perfect distraction from disturbing thoughts.

“Just what are you wearing? Are you trying to seduce your master~?” Because it was working.

Yuriko shifted in front of me. “Well… umh… I thought you might… like this.” Her movement made her twins press together, and I wanted to sink my face into them. Or perhaps… it was time to implement another craving of mine.

Before I realized it, I had already removed my blazer and tossed it on the couch. “On your knees.”

“I… umh… excuse me?” Yuriko blinked, those teal pools full of questions. Such an innocent girl but she was growing into a fine woman step by step.

“You heard me. Remove your glasses and get on your knees.” I smirked. “Or are you disobeying your master?”

“I… I… of course not…” Yuriko lifted her hand. Her glasses made a tiny clapping sound when she pushed the earpieces against the frames and put the glasses on the table. Finally, she bend her knees, landing in front of me and gazing up, slightly squinting. Such an adorable sight.

“Good girl.” I tugged my belt open and unzipped my pants. I could already feel the throbbing… but before I could do this I needed to make sure that everything would play smoothly. “Now, listen closely to your master. Can you do that?”

Yuriko nodded, gazing up at me. I had to collect all my concentration to keep myself in check.

“Tonight, if anything, anything at all does not feel good or scares you, you are to say ‘soup’. Do you understand?”

“Eh…? Soup…?” There were questions written all over Yuriko’s face.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on her. “Yes. Soup.”

“...umh…” Yuriko shifted on her knees, tilting her head while she was apparently pondering over my command. “Why?”

“To ensure your well-being.” I needed to make Yuriko understand this. I did not wish to hurt her in the wrong way. “Say the word, and I will stop no matter what is going on.”

Blinking, Yuriko stared at me as if wanting to remind me how inexperienced she still was.

Frowning, I bored my gaze into hers. “Is that clear?”

“Yes… it is. I’ll say ‘soup’ if I’m uncomfortable.”

“Such a good girl…” I brushed her cheek briefly, giving her a smile, before letting my pants fall.

Yuriko’s lips were partly open even though she was yet to know what was waiting for her. She had no experience of this, I should take that into consideration. No matter how much I yearned to fuck her mouth until she would be a gagging mess of tears, I would need to be gentler… a bit at least.

“Ruki?”

“Do not worry. Your master is about to give you a treat.” I took the waistband of my boxers and pulled it down, letting my cock spring free. I could not help but enjoy the sight of the widening eyes as my angel stared at my offering. “Open wide and lick it all slick.”

Taking my length into my hand, I guided it closer to Yuriko’s mouth. The pink cave of future pleasures opened slowly, and she pushed her tiny tongue out. The instant it hit the tip of my dick, the room was filled with her thick scent of lust. I would make her yearn for so much more before giving her the release.

For a while, Yuriko lingered on the tip as if she was unsure how to proceed. I gave her a nod, and finally, she started to trace the thick veins with her tongue.

“Give me your hand.” Yuriko obeyed my words instantly, lifting her arm. I took her fragile palm and wrapped it around my erection before sliding in. Her eyes grew wide, and I could see how much she struggled. Such a tiny mouth but also so wet and hot as her soft tongue greeted me again.

“No biting.” I placed one hand on Yuriko’s head, making sure she could not pull back just like that. Of course, she could not give me an answer. Not now when I had robbed her ability to speak. As much as I enjoyed hearing her voice whining my name, seeing her like this was a pleasure of its own. So obedient, so submissive, doing everything her master asked of her. Such a good girl but also a bad girl when the mood was right. My naughty little thing in the moonlight.

As I grew even harder against Yuriko’s tongue, I could not hide my groan. My shaft jerked, and I pressed the back of her head.

“Ngh!” The sound Yuriko made was music to my ears, sweetened by the gagging movement her throat gave me while her eyes got a little teary. Yet, she did not even try to fight back but kept sucking and bobbing her head back and forth. Exactly like this, I wanted her to worship my hardness, taking it in with devout desire. My fingers curled in her hair, guiding her head as my vision was turning darker while trembling pleasure rushed through me.

Yuriko’s mouth was a trap of moist heat, and she charmed my shaft with her tongue. She was inexperient in this, yet so eager to please. As she worked on my cock, my body bucked on its own. Fuck! With her, I was constantly in the brick of losing control. I forced her to take my cock even deeper, not minding how her drool mixed with my precum slid down her chin. She took my cold, thrusting cock so well, sucking hard with tears in her eyes, nearly choking on it.

That must have been the most beautiful sight I had seen for a few days. Only now, I realized how much I had missed her and her devotion to me. Watching her whimpering before me while I sank my cock in her mouth repeatedly filled me with joy and burned in my loins. If I did not stop soon, I would release my load on her tongue. As tempting as the idea was, the craving in me was only growing and even more than cumming right now, I wished to indulge it.

I let go of Yuriko’s head and pulled back, staring at how a string of saliva and cum connected my shaft to her mouth. Only for a little while but the sight raised a vein-flaring sensation that coursed through me. Fighting the urge to shove back and fuck her mouth till my crescendo, I collected Yuriko from the floor and lifted her on her shaking legs.

Tracing the delicate softness of Yuriko’s bottom lip, I collected our mixed juices with my thumb and pushed them back into her mouth. Her seductive tongue licked it all without a question.

“That’s my good girl.” I was surprised by how hoarse my voice was. She had affected me more than I was willing to admit out loud, but no one would ever know what kind of trembling she caused in my dead heart.

Heat paint Yuriko’s cheeks with deep rouge. She wiped the tears from her eyes and recompensed me with a smile.

“You like it when I call you that, do you not?” I already knew the answer but I wanted her to voice it out.

“I… I… umh… yes. I only wish… to be your good girl.”

That was what I yearned to hear. As a reward, I pecked her lips, enjoying their spongy smoothness. I moved my mouth down her slender throat, taking my time savoring the scent that radiated through her skin. She was craving for her master as she should.

I tugged the tread Yuriko had added to her outfit, pulling it open and letting it float to the floor. Perhaps I should gift her with a collar.

As I nuzzled my nose along the colum of Yuriko’s neck her veins were throbbing at the pace of her heart. The haste thumping called me, seduced me. Before I realized it, I had revealed my fangs, scraping her skin. A tiny droplet of blood blemished rosy neck. As I licked it, the taste rushed on my tongue, making me only long more. Sinking my fangs deeper, I sucked, allowing the sweet liquid of Yuriko’s life to numb my senses. Pressing her close, I barely realized how she whined and quivered in my arms while I relished her deliciousness.

This young woman was driving me mad. I did not know what was it with her but lately, her scent had become stronger and my ability to resist my urges, had grown thin. I wanted to lock her in this bedroom and never let her out, making her mine over and over again.

Knowing I should not take too much, I forced myself to loosen my grip, pulling my fangs out. As a dessert, I licked over the punctual marks and savored the last drops of blood before they closed. Still, the swollen redness remained, making me curl my lips. Perfect. She should be marked all over like this.

I reached my hand at the apex of Yuriko’s thighs. This new dress of hers made it easy since the short hem barely hid anything from sight. My fingers met the dampness that diffused through her lace panties.

A growl escaped me. “I will buy you a new pair.” With a swift yank, I tore the fabric and tossed it on the floor. The gesture made Yuriko’s aroma of fervor stronger. While I was actuating her, I rived the upper part of her dress down to her waist – breaking one of the straps. Yuriko whimpered but allowed it to happen, and as I wrenched the cup of her bra under her breast, she let out a quivering sound of excitement. The tiny bud perked up and hardened before my lips captured it and pulled. It was perfect in my mouth and I could not resist to toy it with my tongue while the peaks of my fangs scratched the skin right next to her nipple. She laced her fingers with my head and pressed me even closer, forcing a groan out of me as her nub rubbed my tongue and her breast nudged my face.

I enjoyed the bud in my mouth a while longer while massaging the other perky mound. Sighing, I released my catch, but only to gather Yuriko in my arms and carry her toward the bed. I tossed her there and crawled right after her when she was still comprehending the situation.

“You should have known what will happen if you try to seduce your master.” It was more a growl than I meant to but Yuriko had already pushed me beyond caring. What mattered to me was her eyes fixating on me while her tongue wetted her lips. “Yearning for a kiss perhaps?”

Yuriko nodded. That was all I needed to grab her and haul her into my embrace. I locked my mouth with hers, possessing it completely and making her breathless. She answered with a sharp eagerness and desire that only spurred me on more. I sneaked my hand between us, tugging her damp curls before gliding past them and sinking my fingers into her soaking cavern. She clenched, coating my fingers with creamy juices of hers.

“I need you…” I groaned into Yuriko’s mouth, breaking the kiss. “Now. On all fours. Hurry.”

Yuriko’s limbs trembled but she did as she was told. I yanked the pillows near the headboard and shoved them under her belly before forcing the upper part of her body down and lugging her ass up.

Such an amazing view.

Parting Yuriko’s thighs, I admired her a little more. She opened like a blushing lily in front of my eyes, her entrance drenching and ready as if begging for me. I grabbed my length and teased her folds with it, coating myself with her gushing moistness.

Yuriko moaned my name, and I lift my hand, slapping her ass. “It is master tonight.” Her whine was such a pleasure.

Pushing her legs apart with my knees, I leaned in, shoving in her. Heated wetness squeezed me, making me groan again as I thrust deep. Yuriko squeaked in protest as her passage quaked and trembled at my entry. The sounds she made and her delicious tightness fed my hunger.

I stayed still for a moment, allowing Yuriko to adjust the sensation. Not for too long though, for I was planning to guide her into the darker heat of passion. When I felt her relaxing under me, I pulled back, then drove in again, hitting deep. Bit by bit, I expedited my pace while her tormented groans urged me to continue. She grabbed the blanket into her fists, squeezing and gouging it as her back arched. Pressing my hand against her shoulder blades, I forced her to stay down and hold her by the curve of her waist with my other hand.

Yuriko’s muscles gripped me tighter as my relentless thrusts rammed into her. Tonight I was not going to hold back. I sank into pleasure that burned in my loins and spread all over. The sight of her gaping mouth and teary eyes only enticed me.

“Oh gosh, Ruki!”

I lowered my pace and slapped Yuriko’s squeezy ass again, enjoying her whimpering. “Call me master.”

“Ahh… Ru… I… gosh!”

Slap. It seemed my angel needed a little discipline. I loved how her flesh bounced under my palm as the red mark beautified it even more. Shoving in, I felt her pussy clenching and rippling around me.

“Master!” Finally, the whining word left Yuriko’s lips. I left her tortured ass alone and pressed my chest against her back, kissing her earlobe between unforgiving pushes.

“Good girl… nhg… I knew you could do it.” My fang scraped the sensitive skin of her ear while I whispered into it. The scent of her blood almost drove my mind black. I wanted her everything. Every tiny inch of her. She belonged to me and for me only.

I rushed in, pulled out, and prodded again, bliss taking me over as Yuriko was turning into a moaning mess under me. I moved hard and fast, jackhammering toward the climax when her pussy started to spasm around me. She gave a hoarse scream of relish, trashing against the mattress while my cock still strained in her, aching for release.

I clasped Yuriko’s hips pulling her into my final thrust, growling in pleasure and pouring my cum into her. Stopping my movements, I panted on her neck and never wanted to let go. So, I stayed in and let her pussy milk me while I was slowly going down from my high. It was surprising to see my hand trembling when brushed her curls aside and smooched her cheek.

“I love you…” My words were mere murmur, yet I could feel how her face moved as she smiled.

“I… love you too, Ru… Master…”

Nuzzling, I pecked Yuriko’s skin again. “Just use my name, my Angel.”

“Ruki.” Like a desperate sigh, the word pressed out of Yuriko’s mouth. “I truly love you so much. I wish always be yours.”

My heart welcomed those words. I would make sure she would keep that promise, and I would keep mine. “Do not worry. I will never let go of you.”

“I’m happy…”

Yuriko shifted under me. It occurred to me that she was probably getting a bit uncomfortable. Reluctantly, I straightened and pulled out slowly. Yet, I felt instantly colder when I had to leave her heat.

I was about to take hold of Yuriko and haul her in my embrace when I glanced at her ass and pussy still perfectly laid out before me. Creamy droplets slid down her folds, and something started to course in me.

A thought. Too delicious to push aside.

“Push it out.” I could hear how hoarse my voice was. “My cum… Push it out.”

I stared at the peach-shaped ass in front of my eyes, caressing its cheeks. As Yuriko did not do as told, I squeezed one. “I said push it out.”

“Umh…”

Another squeeze. “Do it.”

Yuriko whimpered, but then I saw it. The white, sticky liquid started to run between her swollen folds, dripping on the sheets. My seed leaked from her insides. Fuck! Such a sight. I moved my hand down, spreading her even more. She whined but didn’t stop.

Slowly, I pressed my index finger into the mess I had made, outlying the stickiness all over her thighs. “Beautiful…”

Yuriko gasped so roughly that her ass shook. Delicious… and that made me think. Hmmm… I let my finger slide up her folds. The pretty butt cheeks tensed as I guided my finger between them, spreading our mixed cum to the furrow. “Open your legs even more. Now.”

Quivering all over, Yuriko did as told. “Good girl~” I smirked, helping her with one hand while moving my sticky and wet finger further toward the sweet spot I had yet to conquer. Circling the opening, I watched her reactions closely. Her muscles stiffened even more. “Relax. I will not hurt you…”

Without a hurry, I pressed the tip of my finger in.

“Oh my gosh!”

I moved the finger out but pressed it in again right after. Teasing her like this, I enjoyed every little moan that escaped her lips. “It can bring you great pleasure. You will see it when I take this part of you as mine as well.”

“Now…?” Yuriko was shaking.

I kept my finger still, smirking. “No, not now. We must train you a bit more. This is such a tight part of you…” I pushed the finger deeper until I felt her resist. “But you will learn how to relax enough.”

Leaning in, I kissed Yuriko’s ass while moving my finger back and forth. She was damn tight but I did not expect anything less. Yet, she had not told me to stop, so I kept going while showering her backside with smooches and licks. Bit by bit the tenseness in her released, yet I wanted more. She had been such a good girl and deserved a reward.

While spreading our juices deeper into her hole with my digit, I crawled down, pressing my lips between her soaked folds. She was a mixture of our lust when I licked over her heat. A soft moan danced from her lips only encouraging me to enjoy more of her. Lapping the succulent petals every drop of our blended tastes numbed everything else away. I sucked her pearl in between my lips, making her whine louder. Sucking and teasing her with my tongue I kept my finger moving in and out of her ass.

Yuriko trembled, squeezing the bed sheets while the pillows under her hips were getting damp from our pleasures. She arched her back, almost sobbing and pleading, her body writhing in orgasm overload. “Oh gosh! Too much! I can’t take it!”

I did not mind. She kept screaming and crying, her muscles stiffening all over as she came apart on my lips, her ass clenching around my finger. I could only imagine how it would feel on my cock but that was exploration for another time. For now, I pulled my finger out gradually and kissed Yuriko’s ass one more time before collecting her shaking body into my arms.

Yuriko nuzzled against me, still sobbing. The amber-yellow orbs were all teary, and she was sticky with sweat and cum in my embrace. My beautiful angel who was willing to give me everything.

My love. My perfect distraction.

#yuriko's story #diabolik lovers fanfic #ruki mukami #diabolik oc #yuriko tsukino #steamytimes

9 notes · View notes

jamneuromain · 1 year

Text

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 9

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, possessive behavior, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, explicit language, toxic dom/sub relationship, more arguments

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

A/N 2: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! I'm feeling way better and I'm merging towards my social life as well. I did a litte editing and changing on part 8 where they argued. But it doesn't affect the plot. Feel free to check it out :3 Two more chapters and WT will be completed (I hope I'll get it done by December based on my current speed lmao)

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

From [email protected]

Dear all,

I hope this reaches you well. This email is to remind those of you who have yet to submit your form for assigning a supervisor…

You have been looking at this email for quite some time. Opening the link at the bottom of this email too. But you haven’t made a move yet.

You have thought about having Andy as your supervisor, but that idea sounded like a lifetime ago. And now, there’s no way you’d let Andy be your supervisor.

How are you going to face him? This is more than just some misunderstanding from last semester. This is you two breaking up. Broken up. Whatever.

You are not making him your supervisor.

Taking a deep breath, you text a reply to the message your barely-friend Fiona sent you half an hour ago.

Fiona: Are you going to choose Barber as your supervisor?

You: No. Klein.

A few more messages come from Fiona after you send it. But you ignore them, knowing that she’d be asking dumb questions.

No, probing questions like “what are you going to write for your dissertation” or “should I include my pilot study into my dissertation” or other things that she wants to make an impression in front of her supervisor without “borrowing” from your answers first.

Bitch.

You feel like screaming. Which you did, after punching your mattress and burying your head into the pillow. Only lifting your head when you are completely out of breath.

With everything that happened with Andy, Laurie, Fiona and your schoolwork, it feels like nothing could alleviate you from the endless mess of self-doubt and self-hatred. Hating others as well. Hating your friend choices. Hating your boyfriend choices. Hating your school which led you to him. Hating everyone and every being on this very planet.

Hating yourself.

“Fucking hell.” You mumble to yourself. Pulling your laptop close to fill in the form for dissertation supervisors.

Typing word for word of your dissertation title, and selecting “Joanna Klein” as your preferred supervisor.

I hate my life. The idea keeps floating in your head like the obnoxious bubbles in a soda can, spritzing tiny drops of irritating reality into your face.

Andy has just received the email from Joanna Klein to all available lecturers and professors about supervising students in their dissertations.

He found the familiar name – your name – in a heartbeat. Merely sticking out his lips and making what Laurie would call “a bitch face”, as he found your name under the list of students under the supervision of Joanna Klein.

The pure imagination of pulling the strings behind your dissertation, of having a say in what you could not refuse, seeing you writhing under his grasp, gets his blood pumping in his veins.

He’s probably sick to the bones. One brief moment of clarity tells him so. To get high just to watch you struggling in his control. The adrenaline rush of knowing you are helpless, having no one to turn to but him.

He probably needs help.

But who needs help, when you, the most direct and sufficing way of satisfying his hunger, practically serve your weakness on a silver platter?

Andy pulls his chair closer to the desk, makes up his mind, and starts typing on the keyboard.

He is doing what’s best for you.

You might not see it that way for now but…

You’ll understand, eventually.

Andy sits in his office. Waiting. Patiently. Tapping his fingers on the table surface, as he looks out of the window.

It has only been a while, since you last came to his office to deliver his suit and your breakup.

However, things turned rather quickly, as there was no room for argument as the final version of the list containing supervisor and their students to tutor through the dissertation was settled as the last nail in the coffin.

Five students, students that he is going to supervise, are about to enter that door. And one of them being you.

He grins, thinking of the fact that you are tied to him for the rest of the term time.

No use running. He rolls your name on his tongue silently. He’s far beyond any help could ever achieve in pulling him back. He wants you, one way or another.

He’d keep you, treat you like the precious thing he adores, if you behave.

If you do not… well, there are more than a few ways that he can think of to devour you.

He’d keep you, one way or another.

Five students, including you, walked through that door, sitting on the chairs that he prepared. You picked the seat furthest from him, in a small corner. Didn’t make eye contact. No friendly “hello”. No nothing.

He doesn’t mind.

He knows that you are still mad about your little dispute.

He will tolerate it, knowing that you still love him.

He will explain, tell you that he will fight tooth and nail for you. Tell you that you could start over. He was being unreasonable. He was frustrated and angry, and he lashed out on you, that he was sorry about it all.

Later. He will explain later.

Andy clears his throat, folding his hands on his stomach, “Today we’ll start by having a brief introduction of yourselves. You obviously know me, since I’ve taught you all, but I would still like it if you could introduce yourself to each other. You can tell us about your name, something about yourself, and also tell us about what you are planning to write for your dissertation…”

He pays no special attention to you. He comments, nods, and gives useful suggestions based on everyone’s self-introduction.

“I understand I’m asking for a lot of work in a short amount of time. However, I would expect you to produce a general frame of your dissertation by the next meeting, which is two weeks from now. In the framework, you’ll be talking about how you want to approach your topic-” He stops Fiona from scribbling on her notebook, but ignores you who are doing the same. What can he say, he favors you in the smallest of details, “I’ll send you all an email after this meeting for the framework you’ll be writing about. The topic, the details you are going to investigate, the methodology – I’m sure Professor Rifkin has explained this in her class, and also, keep an open mind when you are writing the dissertation, especially for those who are employing a qualitative method to analyze their data. Any questions?”

You are the first to rush out of his office after he declares that today’s session has come to an end.

He waits until the last student has left the floor before heading out.

The entire floor is quiet. Dead. Deserted.

His shoes barely make a sound on the soft carpet as he steps out of his office, finding you on the floor, sitting on the carpet. You have opened your laptop, but it seems blank.

You gain your consciousness when he approaches, looking up at him. A sigh leaving your lips before you speak, “You did this.”

Not a question, but a firm sentence.

You know he was behind this transfer of dissertation supervisors.

Andy neither confirms nor denies. He cocks his head slightly, looking at your tired expression, “You will need to work on your methodology. Your arguments wouldn’t be convincing if you only state the method for your dissertation.”

“Can’t we be those ex-es like friends? Stop torturing each other over the fact that we broke up? Can you just leave me alone?” You take a deep breath, saying the words that you know he will be disapproving of.

He takes a seat on the couch in the open space, about three feet from where you are sitting, but he doesn’t have to put extra pressure on his neck looking at you from above.

Andy interlaces his fingers into a fist, his thumbs tapping each other.

To tell the truth, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of you. Couldn’t watch you go away.

“Look-” Seeing him unresponsive to your plead, you change your tactics, switching into defiance, “If you want to be a bitch about our relationship, I will have to put in a request to the faculty about changing my supervisor.”

Andy lets out a cold, hard laugh. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Andy “kindly” tells you about the regulation that runs around the place: “Nice try getting rid of me, sweetheart. But even if you do, and that’s a big ‘if’, you would still have to write your dissertation, and during scoring, your dissertation would be assigned to lecturers based on your topic. And I know all your topics, sweetheart.”

Your lips visibly tremble in fear, so are your arms, “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” His tone turns sharp, “I can put an A into your months of work, or an F. Your choice.”

“Yeah? And what should I do for an A?” You shut your laptop with a loud snap, jumping from the spot on the floor to your feet. Clenching your teeth and hissing like venom burns your mouth, you challenge him even further, “Suck your dick, Professor Barber?”

“Be nice, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a friend.” Andy narrows his eyes, the threat in his tone is evident, “First of, I suggest you to be respectful when talking to me.”

You glare at him with fire burning in your eyes.

“I'm not a monster, sweetheart. But if you poke me like that, I don't mind putting a little discipline inside that pretty little brain of yours. Try to stay on my good side, yeah?” Andy stands to his full height, buttoning his suit jacket as he stands up, casually tugging the hem of his shirt and his tie. After tiding himself up, Andy lifts his hand to caress your jaw.

You jerk your head on instinct but his fingers dig into your neck, reminding you, painfully, of the night that he went overboard and fucked your throat.

His grip softens when he feels you freeze on spot. Tracing his thumb on your jawline, he murmurs, “Remember, sweetheart? I'm your Dom. I tell you something, and you do it.”

“You're not my fucking Dom.” You grit out.

“Still bratty, I see. You're a handful but I doubt there's anything that can't be solved by some punishments.”

His thumb forces you to lift your chin, even so, you refuse to look at him.

It takes you a few seconds to regain your voice, “You can't expect me to whore out myself.”

If that’s what he’s asking.

Andy presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering by your ear, “I don't really mind, sweetheart, as long as it is you.”

Some sense finally comes to you, your body shakes like a leaf in both fear and fury, you try to sound tough, but it comes out no better than a whimper, “I could report you to the board of malpractice.”

“And I have a lawyer friend, honey. He's the best in town. God knows how long a lawsuit can take. 18 months? 24?”

“Honey” was usually meant for Laurie, but he is beyond caring which endearment belongs to whom at this point.

“You're ... evil.” You want to move, but you cannot, not when he’s still having an iron grip over your neck.

“Maybe.” Andy shrugs, letting go of your neck, “Now run along before I do something evil, like fucking you over my desk.”

You pack your things as fast as you can, leaving the place without another word.

The rest of the term time passed in a blur. He attends your graduation ceremony with a heart-felt smile, knowing well that he black-mailed you into accepting his supervision and that you have an impeccable dissertation as he almost looked through every word of it, which probably violated ten faculty rules, if not twenty.

He is still clapping when you receive the graduation certificate from Joanna Klein, while he stands on the side. The next thing he knows, you are rushing towards him with a knife in your hand, carving his chest almost in half and he dies before the ambulance can reach the hospital.

His soul floats in mid-air as he watches everything pans out.

Laurie takes over everything, every property in their marriage.

You are charged with murder, serving your life-sentence in a max-security prison.

And Laurie… Laurie divorced him and marries the man she was having an affair with, decorating Andy’s house into a shit-yellow color, laughing and doesn’t have to worry about the rest of her life since she has all the money, cars, and houses that she could get their hands on…

Andy wakes up screaming.

Panting.

Taking a few seconds to realize that he is not in a ghost state and that he is still alive.

Alive. Awake. In his home. In the middle of the night.

Everything in the dream felt so real. Like it actually happened.

Andy touches his chest, where the skin and flesh are intact.

He is still alive.

He sweated through his sheet.

Another few seconds pass and he stays up, hands over his face, recalling the horrible dream.

The absolute nightmare where he told Joanna to switch you to his-

Shit.

He pulls himself over the bed and snatches his phone from the nightstand, checking his email.

The sudden blue light from his phone has him cursing. After flipping over his inbox and finding that he received the email of supervising students yesterday, but hasn’t made a move yet, he lets out an exhale of relief.

He groans and lies back to the bed. His heart still pounding frantically.

A string of curses flies out of his mouth.

Rest assured that he is not going to pull a favor and get you assigned to him.

But he wants you so bad.

How can he live when he wants you so bad and he pissed you off by saying the most harmful things that could be ever said to you?

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

#andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #professor andy barber #student reader #dancing in the daydream #wishful thinking #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst

46 notes · View notes

originemesis · 23 days

Text

[continued - xxx]

Maybe this wasn't exactly the Paimon he'd encountered before during the dismantlement of the fallen star vein of the universe from which he'd been selected as a muse for little more than an extended extermination on the targets deemed stubborn enough to scare into compliance or smite into a muse slot in which they too would stagnate until summoned for the same dizzying service. But even if this was just another font of Paimon, that didn't matter much, because in the end, there was one inescapable fact that would always hold true for the other-

Paimon was a bitch.

Like for real- fire breath... in hell? The most mid fucking thing he'd ever witnessed. And the fact that it stung like as much of a bitch Paimon was, it was going to have to cook him more to wrest that title from the leader of the owl whores.

Despite his extra crispy feather tips and the molten bits of metal dripping from the spiked studs that lined the angel's high cone of a collar, Adam holds little qualms over taking the burning patches along his silhouette and spreading them like a scalding disease to those gathered below. Even if the embers he discards upon impact along with a batch of molted feathers serve little more than to illuminate the destruction he brings to the manor's walkway as it lambastes the group that had lingered there.

Of course he doesn't get much of a chance to chide them for their squabbling since their leader in loose canons decides to pop off another round of ouchie breaths. Three times the ouchies this round. He doesn't miss a beat once fully grounded, using the impact of the hit along with a swift beating of wings to propel back up into the blood moon lit sky just as the hacked up hairballs of elements merge at the center of where he'd been, clipping at and battering the few that didn't find time to dodge the friendly fire.

"Y'know, fuckpie ~ I'm getting some mixed messages on if you think these gooners are even worth saving." That's what the hell owls go by, right? Goetia sure was a weird way to spell gooner-

Stolas's outrage at the mishap draws the crooked flash of his grin, and he bobs in place just before the steady swirl of the anchored tornado with its growing collection of manor pieces and ripped up flower beds whilst the birds squabbled below. How fun! The more they berated one another and kept trained on each other's throats only for Paimon to cartoonishly bowl them over and start the process up again, the more time he had to keep ticking down. A talon wrenches briefly into the singed folds of robe where streaks of golden blood from his shoulder seemed to bubble and evaporate the closer they dripped inwards towards the scuffed A symbol at its center.

"Ladies- ladies! Please ~ feel free to open up my schedule and off yourselves down there. I'd recommend starting with the blue one. Bro fucking sucks-" Well that got the dark feathered one's attention. When she springs up to swat at him, he's already a wing beat away, laughing as he twists mid air around the backs of her elbows as if she were an aerial dance partner. "You though? You're starting to piss me off!"

Time to face the music.

With a line of light following his pick as he winds up an arm, a heated orange flash trapped within the red of gore of a bone cage flickers through the tears in his robe before a slam of strings emits a ear-splitting screech of a soundwave that makes short work of any remaining glass on the manor and its immediate surroundings, followed soon by a second blast that seems to ignite from the light in his chest and bubble outward in a dazzling display that distracts from the pummeling power of its sound trail. A third wave is notably less lethal across the field, but annoying all the same- an introduction of yet another restless round of thunderous noise he directs towards the swirling pillar of destruction, feeding it with the echoes of every raucous riff as he drifted and swirled about its outskirts as if tasked with overseeing a construction project...rather a deconstruction project given how the whipped winds continued their feast of the goetia manor piece by piece.

@avispatr , @mages-pandoras-box , @a-hell-of-a-time

hit counter - 4+1 from burned/20 the music has resumed. 🎶

#//basically repeating first round so ill send ya rolls in a sec #avispatr #mages-pandoras-box #a-hell-of-a-time #unholy crusade #v ; // unholy crusade

4 notes · View notes

bari-the-witch · 2 years

Text

Another snippet of my "Steve has powers" WIP. I'm currently re-writing the whole thing so it'll take a while until I can publish it on AO3. Hope you enjoy this though.

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@vampireinthesun

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

(Hope it's ok to tag you because you replied to my previous post. Feel free to send me a message if you want me to remove it)

----------------

“I know, but …” Steve glances at Dustin, who’s still cradling Eddie’s body - he refuses to call it a corpse yet - on his lap, not looking like he wants to leave anytime soon.

“I’m not leaving him behind!” Dustin hisses angrily at them. “Either we take him with us or you can forget it.”

“Dustin-.”

“No!”

Steve?

The humming under his skin he felt at the Creel House is growing stronger, fluttering in his veins like a swarm of hornets. The need to scratch his skin becomes almost overwhelming and Steve can hardly resist the urge to do it. It feels both familiar and alien at the same time, like a word that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue but won’t come out yet.

“Alright, alright. I’m thinking! Don’t rush me!”

“We - didn’t say anything?” Robin replies confused.

Steve, it’s me. El.

Huh? El? What the fuck?

Steve looks around but the girl is nowhere near in sight. How the hell did she-?

“But-.”

Steve! Now’s not the time! You need to help him. You can help him. You did something like this before, right?

“I - did? But how?”

Steve can see the other’s looking at him in confusion from the corner of his eyes and he can’t really blame them. He knows what it must look like talking him to himself like that.

I’ll explain everything later, promise. You have to trust me.

Steve lets her words sink in for a moment. And maybe he’s going crazy and this is all just a trick of his mind but … if there’s somehow a chance to save Eddie and spare Dustin the fate of lifelong trauma, if he’s able to do it, who’s he to refuse?

There’ll be enough time to think about it later he hopes.

“Okay, tell me what I need to do.” He nods to himself and swears he can feel El smile at his words.

Close your eyes. Try to block out everything around you.

Steve does as he’s told. Concentrating is not an easy task for him, especially since the multiple concussions he acquired over the years.

Wait, let me help.

He feels something poking at the back of his mind and then all of a sudden … it’s easier.

Everything starts to fade around him, the voices of his friends, the feeling of the ground under his feet, the background noises of the Upside Down … and then he feels like his floating into nothing. There’s a faint pressure building up behind his forehead, but it’s manageable.

Open your eyes now.

Nothing but inky blackness spans around him when he does. He can feel water pooling under his hands and knees, making his pants stick uncomfortable to the skin of his shins. As he looks around he’s once again hit by the feeling of familiarity. But when he tries to reach for the memory it slips away again and again like a slippery eel.

“Welcome to the void, Steve.”

He nearly pisses his pants at the sudden voice coming from behind him, and it’s only thanks to his good reflexes he doesn’t fall on his ass when he whirls around.

Wait.

“El? How are you-?”

She grins at him toothily. “I piggybacked here from a pizza freezer.” Then her face becomes serious again. “We need to hurry. I don’t know how long I can keep us here.”

Steve doesn’t even try to decipher the first part of her explanation because it doesn’t make any sense to him. And maybe the second one, too. It’s best not to think about the details now.

“What now?”

“We - no, you, need to find Eddie.”

“Me? But how?” Steve turns around himself a few times, looking left and right into the inky blackness. “I can’t even see anything in here.”

Instead of mocking him for his ignorance, as everyone normally does, she looks at him with understanding flashing in her eyes. “You need to uh,” her eyebrows scrunch in confusion while she’s searching for the right words to explain it to him, ”like summon him? I always do it by concentrating on the people I want to see in here.”

“So I just need to think about him real hard?” It makes sense somehow, and also doesn’t.

She nods approvingly. “Yes,” El replies curtly.

“Well then. Time to think about Eddie Munson I guess,” Steve says, shrugging.

He’s weirdly okay with this. And maybe it’s because that’s not the strangest thing that’s happened in his life so far. Maybe you get used to stuff like this after a while.

Steve tries to imagine what Eddie looked like the last time he saw him. Not the lifeless body bleeding out on the filthy ground of the Upside Down, no. He thinks about him, vibrant and alive, wrangling with Dustin in the fields outside of Hawkins, crowding into Steve’s space after hotwiring the RV, calling him that stupid pet name and grinning at him …

The air around him starts to buzz and his skin feels like when he’s standing too close to a turned-on TV, making the hairs on his arms stand up.

“Very good. Now look closely,” El instructs beside him.

Steve stares into the nothingness right in front of him with squinting eyes and just as he wants to ask El what’s he supposed to see, the air starts to thicken, forming a familiar shape.

“Holy shit,” Steve exclaims with wide eyes. “Holy shit, this is …”

Right in front of them, only paces away, Eddie Munson appears, looking exactly like Steve remembers him. Without waiting for El’s next instruction, Steve takes a few tentative steps toward him.

“Eddie?” he asks hesitantly.

Eddie tenses and immediately whirls around, a harried expression on his face, morphing into relief the second he starts to recognize him.

“Harrington?” he asks in disbelief. Then his eyes flicker to El. “Who’s that?”

“Not important right now,” Steve interjects hastily. “But you can trust her. I promise.”

Eddie doesn’t look the slightest bit convinced but lets it slide much to Steve’s surprise. “Okay,” he draws the word out. “Whatever you say, man. But what are you doing here exactly? Wait, don’t tell me you -.”

“Relax.” Steve raises his hands reassuringly. “M’ fine. More or less.”

Eddie huffs. “Very reassuring,” he mumbles to himself, but Steve can hear him just fine. “Well then. Enlighten me, Harrington. What’re you doing here?”

Before Steve can open his mouth to answer, the ground under his feet starts to shake, knocking El’s bony elbow painfully into his side.

“We don’t have much time left. I can feel it slipping,” El says panting, clinging to Steve’s body like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face lost all color and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. “We have to - you need to -.”

“What El? What do I need to do?” Steve asks in panic, his voice almost cracking.

“You -. Touch him,” she finally presses out. “You need to touch him.”

“That’s it?”

El nods jerkily, closing her eyes for a moment, pain etching her young face. She steps away from Steve’s side, curling into herself. “Touch. Yes.”

The shaking is getting more intense now and Steve can barely keep himself on his feet.

“What the fuck is happening here?” he hears Eddie asks in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. What the fuck.” He stumbles back, deeper into the void and away from them.

Fuck. He needs to do this.

Now.

With a giant leap, because he doesn’t know what else to do, Steve throws his entire weight against Eddie, throwing him off balance and knocking them both down. Eddie tries to escape from Steve’s grasp, trashing and screaming, fighting tooth and nail to get away from him, almost knocking him into the head with his flailing limbs. But he doesn’t stand a chance against Steve’s painfully tight grip, pinning him to the ground as he gazes into Eddie’s wide shocked eyes.

The void starts to crumble away around them and at the same time, Eddie Munson opens his eyes in the real world.

#steddie

55 notes · View notes

rhaenella · 10 months

Text

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 20

Part 19 | Part 21

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, smut

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: at the end.

Song: Run Baby Run – The Rigs

Thick darkness blanketed the once lively hall. The room had fallen silent, save for a pained cry in the distance and the rain pelting down on the glass ceiling high up above.

Rhys’ eyes strained to pierce the darkness.

What the hell…

“Jesus Christ.”

Rhys turned to the whispered shout coming from his left. Carson.

“Is everyone okay?”

Rogers. The group he’d been conversing with moments prior responded quietly with a chorus of yeses, including himself.

Another thunderous clap. Gasps followed, the silence slowly lifting as more and more people started murmuring nervously to one another.

“The storm.”

“It must’ve knocked out the power grid.”

“Must have, yes.”

A flash of blinding light drove away the heavy darkness for not more than a second, Rhys immediately taking advantage to look around him. Shards of broken champagne glasses littered the floor, all of the guests wearing nervous and anxious expressions. There was a commotion near the grand staircase, someone was on the floor, a few people trying to make their way over. The sudden surge of light had aided them in finding their way over before darkness fell upon them once more.

“Don’t move, sir! We’re coming to help you.”

Rhys could make out the sounds of boots hitting the marble floor as security came rushing in. Beams of flashlights entered in high succeeding fashion, illuminating the hall as they swept their lights over every stricken face and corner.

The only person who stood relatively calmly observing the scene before him, was Rhys. At least he was, until the sound of his ringtone and an insistent buzzing hauled him back to reality.

Y/N.

Fuck.

You were still somewhere on the other side of the museum. With your victim. Alone. In the dark.

Finally, a wave of minor panic — although he would never openly admit it — coursed through his veins. He futilely looked around, as if you’d magically appear before his eyes. Rhys took the phone he’d still been clutching from his pocket, the screen’s light accentuating the troubled creases in his forehead as his eyes scanned the text message he’d just received.

EMERGENCY ALERT

Severe Thunderstorm Warning in effect for this area until 02:45 AM. Strong wind gusts up to 120 km/h. Stay inside. Avoid travel.

Visit gov.uk/alerts for more information.

No shit, Sherlock. It’s a little fucking late for that.

Rhys made a quick mental note to make some immediate changes to whatever department was responsible for issuing emergency alerts as soon as he would step into office. Pathetic pieces of shit. Now, you could be in danger.

He tapped the screen harshly, dread filling him when he realised you still hadn’t contacted him.

“You alright, mate?”

Rhys glanced up at Carson who flashed him a brief look of concern.

“Yes,” Rhys lied. “I just need to find my date.”

“You said she went to the loo, right? Do you want me to come with you?”

Rhys was shaking his head, already taking steps away from the group, directing their attention to his quickly retreating figure.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just gonna make sure she’s okay.”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he disappeared into the chaos of the hall, only faintly hearing one of them joking how he’d probably find you with smudges of reapplied lipstick on your cheek. Their laughter faded away as Rhys marched toward the direction of Attenborough Studio, people moving aside as he strode past with determination edged in his pace. He wasn’t sure if you’d made it there yet, but it was a good starting point.

He never should’ve left you alone. He should’ve persuaded you to take a different approach, to lure Fernsby in a different way. You would have argued that it would be too conspicuous. That you would likely stand out too much, that this was the only possible way in which people wouldn’t notice.

But all of that wouldn’t matter if you were injured. Or dead.

Rhys clenched his fists. He trusted you and fully believed in your capabilities, but the nagging voice in the back of his head kept reminding him of that godforsaken bottle of poison. What if it had shattered? What if you had inhaled it? What if—

“Mr. Montrose.”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name being called with a resounding sense of authority. One of the security officers stationed at the entrance to the Hintze Hall held up his hand, blocking Rhys’ way.

“No one is allowed to leave the room, I’m afraid. Security protocols.”

Rhys stared blankly at the man daring to keep him from finding you. Of course. The art. They were in a museum after all. He could care less about the priceless collection surrounding him, though. It held no priority compared to finding you. Internally, he was piecing together the most effective way to strangle the security officer and get on with it. However externally, Rhys painted a fake but convincing smile onto his face. He knew violence could only get him so far. Understanding and diplomacy on the other hand…

“I understand, sir. I was hoping you could make an exception. My date left to go to the restroom shortly before the power cut. I want to make sure she isn’t hurt or unable to find her way back here.”

Rhys looked at his name tag. “Please, Roy. You must understand.”

A flicker of doubt crossed the officer’s features. It had only been a tenth of a second but Rhys immediately preyed on that small moment, letting a sliver of that very real concern he felt slip through his carefully kept facade. And it worked.

When the security officer blinked twice, glanced around the room to make sure his colleagues wouldn’t notice, Rhys knew he had him. Roy stepped aside, gesturing for Rhys to pass quickly.

“When you’ve found her, come back to the Hintze Hall immediately, sir.”

“We will. Thank you, Roy.”

And with that Rhys was on his way once again. He took out his phone, turning on the flashlight as he tried to retrace his steps in the direction of where you’d come from earlier that night. Rhys mentally pictured the route — through the Mammals Gallery, turn left towards the Darwin Centre…

He felt a hundred pairs of eyes follow his every move as he walked through the gallery, checking right and left when he exited. Rhys wasn’t keen on being seen by anyone as he sneaked around the empty museum, seeing as this was definitely not the fastest way to the loo. But he also didn’t want to overlook you. You could be out here in the corridors somewhere for all he knew.

Rhys turned the left corner, rain pattering dismally against the floor to ceiling window panes separating the inside of the museum from the unlit courtyard outside. He shot a quick look through the windows, noticing that as far as he could see, London laid under a cover of darkness. The power must’ve gone out in a much larger area than just the museum. Although, Rhys was quite sure the museum itself had been directly hit by a strike of lightning. The near explosion level sound that reverberated throughout the building served as enough proof of that.

At that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the entire corridor, allowing him to make out the Darwin Centre’s distinct eight-storey white cocoon in the distance. Rhys quickened his pace and reached the Centre in record time. He circled around the giant cocoon, shining his flashlight on the different entrances and doorways in search for Attenborough Studio. Besides the beating sound of the rain and thunder, all was quiet. It seemed as if not a single soul was around here, everyone swept up in the mess inside the Hintze Hall.

When Rhys finally spotted the Studio, he didn’t waste another second, putting his ear against the door to listen if he could make out any noises on the other side. Nothing. He frowned, glancing back briefly over his shoulder before he inhaled deeply, readying himself for anything. He clasped the door handle, turning it and swinging the door open without another moment’s hesitation.

Except for the two green emergency lights, Attenborough Studio was basked in silence and darkness, just like the rest of the museum. The Studio was essentially a small lecture hall — a semi-circular room with a capacity of up to 75 students. Rhys took a few tentative steps inside, letting his flashlight roam around the room, looking for a sign of life as the door clicked shut behind him.

He froze when the beam of light hit something.

He let his phone’s flashlight illuminate a singular path down the stairs, leading to the centre of the room. There, in front of the teacher’s podium, lay a body. Alive or otherwise, Rhys couldn’t tell.

Not that he was given another chance to think about it when an arm shot out from behind him. He inhaled sharply as it coiled strongly around his neck, instantly obstructing his airflow. Rhys stumbled back, hands shooting out to grab at his attacker. But it seemed that the assailant had already foreseen this defensive move as a sharp object pressed threateningly against his carotid artery. He tensed. The silent but efficient attack undeniably taking him by surprise.

Rhys let out a shaky exhale, his thoughts moving a mile a minute as he could only think of one person who was capable of achieving such a feat.

There was a moment in which neither of you moved, during which Rhys picked up the faint traces of an all too familiar perfume, confirming his suspicions.

He smiled. “Don’t tell me I missed it.”

At the sound of his voice, the weight of whatever weapon he’d felt against his throat, immediately disappeared. Rhys turned around and was met with your focused and slightly surprised expression.

“Rhys,” you breathed, both visibly relieved to see him and wanting to scold him at the same time.

“You know, if you’d only just texted me, you wouldn’t have had to attack me,” he remarked, dry.

You snorted, ruefully shaking your head at him. Still, you proceeded to step into his space, tilting your head up to kiss him, soft and tender. It was quite the juxtaposition compared to how you’d held a nail file up to his throat only seconds before.

“Sorry about that,” you murmured, smiling against his lips.

Rhys returned your smile. “It’s okay, darling.”

He kissed you back, his lips moulding to yours, a large portion of the panic and stress leaving his body at the feeling of your lips pressed to his own. He held you close, hands moving to cradle your jaw as you kissed, the tips of his fingers pressing to the soft skin behind.

You made a soft noise, breaking the kiss all too quickly, pulling away from him. Rhys gently held onto your forearms, not wanting you to step away from him completely.

Even though he felt infinitely more at ease knowing that you were safely in his presence once more, he couldn’t help but instinctively examine your entire physique to make sure you were really alright.

Which, apparently, you weren’t.

Rhys stiffened as his eyes landed on a large tear down the left side of your formfitting, black dress, providing him with a clear view of your lace bra underneath. Rage rapidly built up inside of him as his eyes wandered from the ripped fabric, down to your arms where his hands were still circling your wrists. Below your elbow, a nasty bluish-black bruise, the size of a hand, was slowly forming. Glowering, he tracked a few other, smaller bruises that definitely hadn’t been there earlier, as well as multiple strands of your hair being uncharacteristically out of place.

“What happened?” He seethed.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, emphasising the quiet but threatening hiss of his voice. You sighed, clearly having expected the reaction, your gaze automatically focusing on a place over his shoulder. Rhys followed it, his eyes landing on the heap of limbs on the floor.

“The power cut shortly after we got here. Fernsby wanted to leave and go back to the Hintze Hall, but I couldn’t let him,” you explained.

“I guess that’s when he sensed something was off. He freaked. I tried to calm him down. But it was too late. And so we ended up in a bit of a struggle on the floor.”

Rhys gritted his teeth. “A bit of a struggle?”

“It was dark. I could barely see anything,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Do you know how hard it is to subdue someone in total darkness without having it leave a single trace on their body?”

His eyes narrowed, calculating. “So, he’s not dead?”

“Not yet.”

“Good,” Rhys stated, already moving away from you in the direction of Daniel Fernsby’s unconscious body.

Your eyes widened, his intention clear as day. You hastily grabbed onto his arm to stop him, protecting your victim from Rhys’ wrath that could in all likelihood scare even the devil himself.

“No,” you commanded. “Don’t.”

You were met with his cold gaze as Rhys reluctantly turned back around. But you didn’t waver, your own eyes narrowing in warning.

“I haven’t gone to this much trouble for you to screw it all up. This is my job. My kill.”

You held your head high, daring him to defy you. Rhys was silent for a moment, taking in your resolve. You sure as hell weren’t messing around. Unmistakably, a seed of pride swelled inside of him at your certitude. Yet it was difficult to simply ignore his instincts to act upon the fear he’d felt earlier, and the anger now, as he bore witness to the consequences of how Fernsby had harmed you.

An inner battle raged inside of him — avenge you or stand back and let you handle it. Deep down, Rhys knew the second option was really the only option. He knew you could handle it yourself. You killed people for a living for fuck’s sake. But that didn’t take away the fact that the thought of you getting hurt, or worse — losing you, caused his insides to twist rather unpleasantly.

Rhys struggled to deal with these, still new, emotions. Thus, his first instinct had been to react on that fear impulsively, eliminating the danger himself, unintentionally disregarding you in the process.

It was as if you could sense his inner turmoil because you relented, your eyes softening. The storm in his own eyes, unmatched to the one outside, quieted a little as you moved closer to him, cupping both of his cheeks. It wasn’t lost on Rhys that you were somehow able to ground one another with a simple touch. It had been the case on more than one occasion — being able to reach the depths of each other’s souls through the connection you both shared. A mutual understanding.

Knowing you had his full attention, you leaned in for another soft kiss. To convey a single message — that you were okay.

Your lips parted, your warm breath fanning over his lips.

“I’m okay,” you added out loud, thumb brushing his cheek. “I promise, Rhys.”

Rhys closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the warmth of your body, allowing you to convince him of that simple truth. And ultimately what he knew was the best, next course of action.

He nodded slowly, accepting, his eyes lingering on your lips.

Rhys closed the final space between you once more, hand cradling the back of your head as he kissed you deeply and with intent, sealing a wordless promise of his own — to let you do what you did best, without him stepping in your way. You smiled into the kiss, trailing your hand down his neck to land on his chest. His heart beat steadily under the weight of your palm, even though the brush of your mouth against his own lit up nerve endings throughout his entire body. Rhys pulled you even closer to him, almost losing himself in your touch.

A sudden crack of thunder startled the both of you. You pulled back, your eyes darting towards the entrance of the lecture hall, instantly checking whether someone had entered. But there was no one there. You laughed softly when you realised it was just the seemingly never-ending storm outside.

Rhys didn’t share your laughter, though. Instead, he frowned. The thunder reminded him of the situation inside the Hintze Hall, and how you two couldn’t be missed for much longer until people would start to notice. Meaning now wasn’t the time to enjoy the delicious taste of your lips. No matter how much he wanted to.

He mentally dragged himself back to that place of utter most concentration and focus, his arms still loosely wrapped around you as his gaze locked with yours. You inquisitively raised a single eyebrow at his sudden change in attitude, waiting for him to elaborate.

“We don’t have much time, or they’ll start to look for us.”

“What do you mean look for us?”

“They’re gathering everyone in the Hintze Hall to ensure no one sneaks out to go shopping in the museum whilst the power is still out. One of the security officers knows I went out to look for you,” Rhys explained. “We’re supposed to be back there as soon as possible.”

You nodded, quickly understanding his concern.

“They’re likely too busy to accurately track the time, though.”

“Agreed,” he acknowledged. “But we probably shouldn’t linger.”

“Although, don’t get me wrong,” Rhys added quickly, a sinful sparkle in his eyes as he glanced at your lips. “I really want to.”

You grinned. “Let’s get back to work, then. The sooner we can get out of here the better.”

You punctuated your words by walking straight towards the podium, descending the stairs to where Fernsby’s body was still spread out on the floor, Rhys following behind you. Besides the flashlight on Rhys’ phone, you turned your own back on as well. The lack of light wasn’t ideal, but you would make it work. Bending down, you set down your phone and picked up your abandoned clutch lying a couple of feet away from the CEO. You took out the Chanel no. 5, which was thankfully still intact after your ‘minor altercation’.

“How did you even lure him in here?” Rhys asked, his eyes sliding over the ill-lit interior of the lecture hall.

“Well, it was decidedly more difficult after you paraded me around the dance floor.”

He made an amused ahh sound, but didn’t apologise.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you served as a nice distraction, but that I was looking for someone with more experience.”

Rhys smirked. “Is that so?”

You met his eye, shooting him a playful wink before you returned to your task at hand.

You moved over Fernsby, settling your knees on either side of his chest before carefully placing the bottle of poison on the floor beside you. Meanwhile, Rhys settled in for the show, leaning back against the banister. He silently observed your preparations, like he’d done once before when he’d secretly followed you to watch you murder that prosecutor Williams a couple of months ago. However, this time, he was able to witness your work up close as you slowly undid the tie around Fernsby’s neck, cleverly using it to tie up his hands. You had to be careful, though. It needed to be tight enough so he wouldn’t be able to free himself, but not too tight that it would leave peri mortem marks on his body.

Once you were satisfied with the knot, your right hand firmly clasped his wrists to keep his arms pressed to the floor. After taking one deep, stabilising breath, you brought your free hand up to his cheek, fervently patting it in order to wake him up quickly, knowing that time was of the essence.

It worked. Fernsby’s eyes blinking open slowly as his hazy gaze landed on the stunning lady that had seduced him earlier, and now sat perched atop of his chest. A lady that had somehow gotten the drop on him, knocking him out cold.

“You,” he croaked, trying to lift his arms, only coming to the realisation that he couldn’t move them.

You purposely squeezed his bound hands, giving him your most radiant smile. A surge of panic flashed before his eyes, his brows lowering as he regarded you with a mixture of growing suspicion and trepidation.

“What do you want?”

You shook your head slightly, disappointed. “Oh, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel…”

You rested some of your weight on his chest, making it harder for him to breathe as you leaned in closer to his face, watching in delight as his eyes widened.

“I want to apologise,” you whispered, stroking his cheek.

“For what?” Fernsby asked, confused, your supposed friendliness entirely at odds with his primal instincts sensing imminent danger.

“For not being able to take my time. Have a little chat with you,” you pouted. “It’s quite rude of me, but I do sincerely hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I-I don’t understand,” he stammered.

Fernsby didn’t even notice that someone else was present in the room with you. But Rhys was still there, quietly admiring you as he watched the scene before him unfold. The way you talked to him, thoroughly composed, posing as a friend before you would strike the final, fatal blow…

The power you held in that single moment, deciding his fate — it probably shouldn’t turn Rhys on. But it most definitely did.

“I think you will. See,” you said, picking up the Chanel no. 5. “This perfume bottle isn’t actually filled with perfume.”

Fernsby glanced at the bottle, obviously not understanding where you were going with this.

“Instead, it contains a liquid herb that I think you might be somewhat familiar with,” you continued, turning the bottle around in your hand. “Aconitum napellus, to use the proper Latin term.”

His confused look only intensified. Perhaps he didn’t want to face the facts. To come to terms with the situation he currently found himself in, his mind stubbornly protecting himself from it.

Rhys folded his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. Fernsby wouldn’t be able to escape the inevitable conclusion forever.

“You still don’t know?” You asked, mocking. “This is elementary stuff for someone in your field, I’d say.”

Beads of sweat covered Fernsby’s face as it became harder and harder for him to breathe. He furtively rubbed his wrists against the restraint of his own tie. His favourite tie, no less. The one that always brought him luck, except today.

When you raised a single brow, he swallowed thickly. Fernsby understood, if anything, that you were expecting an answer from him in return. Not wanting to find out what would happen if he didn’t, he mumbled, “It’s most c-commonly used in Ch-chinese medicine.”

“Correct,” you beamed. “However, you and I both know that it’s not only used to treat illnesses. It’s also very much capable of causing them...”

He paled. Realisation hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Aconite, he mouthed.

Poison.

Finally, he’d reached the point where his mind could no longer trick himself into a false sense of security. Your smile widened as terror shook through Fernsby’s body. He cried out, moving in a frenzy underneath you, trying with all his might to get away from you. But it was of no use. Your weight on his chest and the iron grip you had on his tied-up wrists successfully keeping him down.

Slowly, you brought the bottle of poison closer to his face.

“Long-term effects include respiratory paralysis and heart rhythm abnormalities. Symptoms that can be treated,” you spoke calmly. “However, in high-dosages, such as I have here — there is no treatment.”

You stared into his frightened eyes. “Which means that your heart will stop immediately.”

He trembled, shaking his head in agony, pleading with you. The fear and adrenaline had most certainly kicked in, his chest rising and falling beneath you in rapid succession. It reduced him to the mere shell of a man. The once selfish CEO whose only objective was to get richer on the backs of others, consequences be damned, replaced with this — a scared puppy, begging for mercy.

Some would perhaps argue that he was innocent in all this. Innocent in the sense that he didn’t know any better. His father had founded the company before Daniel Fernsby had taken over, showing his nepo son the ropes of the Big Pharma industry, and how to most effectively utilise capitalism in support of their business.

But Rhys knew none of that changed anything for you. Fernsby was a job you needed to get done. It was as simple as that. And it always would be.

Could you finally admit to yourself that the power you felt during a kill was invigorating? Intoxicating in its own way? Rhys desperately wanted to know. Although, something about the way you were leaning over your victim, playing with him and openly enjoying it, told Rhys that you finally did.

“Wh-why are you do-doing this?”

“Because Ms. Eileen Edwards asked me to.”

Fernsby’s bulging eyes widened even more, making Rhys believe they might burst out of their sockets.

“Now, I would’ve loved to get into the why’s and who’s a little further. But as I told you before, I’m in a bit of a rush. So,” you said, uncapping the poison filled bottle.

“She says fuck you. And goodbye.”

Your prompt change in demeanour delayed Fernsby’s immediate reaction time as you leaned back as far as possible, letting go of his wrists. You bunched up the ends of your dress, moving it up to your face to serve as a make-shift mask to shield you from the soon to be airborne droplets of aconite poison.

When Fernsby did catch up, understanding better than ever what you were about to do, he tried to fight back. Unfortunately, his restricted movements to try and fend you off were unmatched by your speed and the level of experience you had with going after people, and killing them. You anticipated his next moves long before he thought of them, easily dodging the attack of his bound wrists. You stabilised yourself as he tried to kick his legs at you in a feverous madness. It didn’t work. Nothing did.

You pressed the fabric of your dress securely against your nose and mouth, bringing the bottle of poison in front of Fernsby’s face. He tried to turn away, but it was too late. You’d already sprayed the poison directly into his nose and mouth. You moved your own head to the side, holding your breath as an extra precaution to protect yourself from the poison. Fernsby’s heavy breathing resulted in him quickly inhaling the aconite. And like you’d told him before, the CEO started convulsing almost instantly, gasping in heaves of poisoned air that only accelerated the process of his heart muscle to stop pumping blood through his body.

You got off of him, taking a couple of steps back. You were so engaged with the gruesome sight before you, you barely noticed that Rhys had walked over to stand behind you, watching the dying man over your shoulder.

Not even fifteen seconds after he’d inhaled the first poison filled breath of air, Fernsby’s heart went into cardiac arrest. And then it was over quickly. Minor muscle tremors served as the last set of twitching, bodily movements before Fernsby lay completely still, his lungs no longer expanding, and his head lulled lifelessly to the side.

Rhys looked from Fernsby to you, studying you as you took a small moment to relish the kill. He was without a doubt in awe of your display of sheer ruthlessness, his eyes staring at you longingly. You glanced back over your shoulder, and he could tell your mind was already focusing on the next part of the kill. The getting-away-with-it part. Arguably the most difficult task.

“What’s next?” Rhys asked, placing an affectionate kiss to your exposed neckline.

You turned around to face him, eyes zeroing in on his suit jacket’s left breast pocket. “I’m gonna plant the burner phone that I brought with me on his body. May I?”

Rhys peered down at your fingers lightly grasping his neatly folded handkerchief. He nodded, allowing you to take it from him. Next, you reached for your clutch, retrieving said burner phone with Rhys’ handkerchief so that none of your prints were left on its surface. You walked back over to Fernsby’s dead body, carefully tucking the phone in his inner jacket pocket.

“Now,” you exclaimed. “The police will find messages on there, showing how Fernsby was ‘in contact’ with a woman shortly before his death. It will also show how she suggested to meet here, in Attenborough Studio, to have some fun. Away from prying eyes.”

You carefully grabbed the bottle of poison, recapping it before putting it back inside your clutch.

“They will then start to look for this mystery woman,” you continued informing Rhys on your well-crafted plan as you moved to untie Fernsby’s wrists, expertly retying the tie around his neck. “Of course, they won’t find her.”

“But what about that young woman in the Hintze Hall?” Rhys interjected. “Surely, we’re not the only ones who have seen Fernsby ogling her earlier tonight. They’ll suspect foul play, and name her the prime suspect.”

He was a little surprised, to say the least. As far as he was aware, you never framed an innocent person for your crimes.

“Yes, they probably will. But she’ll be fine. The police will find her, and question her, but whether or not she alibies out — they won’t have a shred of evidence to hold her.”

Now, it was Rhys’ turn to not understand your line of reasoning.

He furrowed his brows. “You’re not worried about the toxicology report?”

“Not really, no,” you answered, standing up to circle the body with a high level of scrutiny, making sure you didn’t leave a single piece of DNA evidence behind.

“Due to the rapid absorption of aconite, the autopsy won’t produce any results that will indicate poisoning,” you explained. “Unless the forensics team collects body samples within the next two hours, which I think is unlikely.”

You came to stand in front of Rhys once you were satisfied with the crime scene, a pleased smile playing on your lips.

“Therefore, they can only come to the conclusion that Mr. Fernsby died of natural causes. Case closed.”

Rhys stared at you. Officially more than a little impressed. Your intelligence and resourcefulness never ceased to amaze him, especially when it came to getting away with murder.

“Case closed,” he repeated, mirroring your smile.

You both casted a final glance at Fernsby, ensuring you didn’t leave anything behind on your way towards the exit. Rhys held open the door for you, following you out of Attenborough Studio after wiping the door handles on both sides.

A burst of lightning lit up the Darwin Centre, Rhys’ attention immediately drawn to the tear on your ruined dress. Your eyes followed his gaze, chewing your lip apprehensively as you looked down at the mangled state of your dress. Before you could ask, Rhys was already shrugging out of his suit jacket, holding it out for you to slip into.

You moved in front of him, allowing Rhys to put it on you. The jacket was way too big for you, but it would certainly suffice in hiding the large tear that you wouldn’t be able to explain otherwise. You shot him a grateful look, inhaling his scent as you slid your hands down the smooth fabric. Rhys smirked at the sight of you in his clothes, moving to tuck the loosened strands of your hair back into place.

“Let’s return to the party, shall we?”

He was about to offer you his arm when you paused.

“Wait,” you called, looking at him worriedly, suddenly remembering a crucial piece of information. “What about that group of politicians from earlier? They know I left the Hintze Hall before the power cut. What if they put two and two together?”

Rhys didn’t respond the way you thought he would. Instead, he chuckled lightly, making you frown. Contrary to you, he knew those men, and he wasn’t worried about them at all. And neither should you be.

Rhys placed his hand on your shoulder reassuringly.

“Trust me, they won’t cause any problems. Come morning, they likely won’t remember a single, coherent detail about tonight,” he assured, thinking back to the drunk lot of them.

Looking at him knowingly, you bit your lip, directing his attention to your irresistible lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss you again.

“They did have quite a bit to drink, huh,” you teased.

“And even more after you left,” Rhys grinned.

“I wonder who encouraged them.”

He simply shrugged his shoulders, which earned Rhys a laugh in return as he checked his watch. It had decidedly felt much longer, but barely twenty minutes had passed since he had left the Hintze Hall to come look for you.

He quickly considered about half a dozen strategies on how you two could slip back inside the Hintze Hall unnoticed. Rhys concluded that the best option would be to return via another entrance to avoid Roy the security officer. Then, you would simply have to keep a low profile, as much as that was possible, until all the guests would be allowed to leave.

It would have to do.

You started walking back in the direction of the Hintze Hall as Rhys relayed his plan to you. The moment you agreed, he gradually picked up his pace, blindly reaching for your hand.

“Come on,” he urged, lacing your fingers together. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we’ll get cleared, and we can go home.”

Home.

A single word. Short in its simplicity, yet it held so much meaning. You smiled, squeezing his hand, eagerly matching his pace.

Yes, you thought. Let’s go home.

––––

A/N: I would like to let everyone know that I’m by no measure a poison expert, so this contained mostly freeform based on Dexter and some science. Yes, I actually read part of an academic research paper on fatal aconite poisonings in autopsy findings and postmortem quantitative analysis — which to be honest, was quite interesting. So, you’re welcome. But please ignore the inaccuracies (which I’m sure are there) if you happen to be a chemistry specialist.

THEN (!!) on a very important note: if you haven’t yet seen the trailer/edit I made for this fic (how dare you?), please check it out here! x

Until next week babes, part 21 is drafted and almost ready to be posted :)

am I actually back on schedule??? wow. jk I really am trying my best lol THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE, YOU’RE THE BEST

––

Tags: @artaxerxesthegreat

#rhys montrose x reader #rhys montrose x female reader #rhys montrose fanfic #rhys montrose fic #rhys montrose #you netflix #you season 4 #you season 4 canon divergence #jonathan moore #joe goldberg #goldrose #ed speleers #rhys montrose x original female character #on ao3 #you and me

17 notes · View notes