#( and the fact his body was still trying to put itself back together after getting beheaded & quartered )

[endawn]

still thinking about a scenario where the tadcrew denies pax’s request to join them the first two opportunities, they’ll still have a third chance at moonrise depending on how they go about it. if they find him in bath’s hidden room. they’d find him vivisected and quartered on the operating table with a sustained sunlight spell above him to halt his regeneration. notes in the room describing his absolute rampage and slaughter through the compound before being overwhelmed by ketheric & the regrouped true souls still alive. probably attempting to tap into his immortality so they don’t have to solely rely on the nightsong. the crew can disable to spell and drip some of their blood into his mouth to kickstart his healing factor. then step waaaaaay back.

[finelinevogue]

Hi I just read your work bigger than all of them and I loved it sm!! Wondered abt a follow up fic where one of the girls let’s slip that they talked abt it to the boys and Cass and Rhys are like upset that Az is the biggest maybe? Idk just thought it would be funny ❤️❤️

this is so funny yess of course!!! this is only short but… hope it’s worth it!! tysm for reading <33

word count - >500

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ part 1 here ]

It was family dinner night.

Everyone together for a lovely meal, cooked by Elain and Mor since they were the best chefs the family had to offer. Cassian would pretend he chipped in, but realistically he only licked the pudding bowl after it had been finished with.

“Pass me the sauce please, Az.” Rhys asked, holding an arm out for his brother to pass him the sauce pot.

“Feyre are you seriously ogling Rhys’ arms at the dinner table?” Amren snorted.

“They’re right in front of me what do you expect?” Feyre blushed and everyone laughed at how easy it was to wind her up.

“We know what to expect, don’t we little miss High Lady.” Mor raised her eyebrows, which caused Feyre to go all shy and dip her head into Rhys’ body for protection.

“Did we miss something?”

Cassian, the ever oblivious male, asked.

“You certainly did.” Nesta smirked.

Each of you girls began to catch each other’s eyes from around the room, trying your best not to snicker or expose yourselves.

Mor looked at you and held her hands up in front of her, palm facing palm. She slowly dragged them from a centimetre apart to about nine inches.

Your breath hitched as you remembered what she was implying - how her actions related to the other night - and now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh..” You sighed awkwardly.

“What?” Azriel asked from beside you.

“Nothing, nothing.” You smiled, using your face to stuff a potato in your mouth so you wouldn’t have to answer any more questions.

Curse Azriel to be so perceptive though.

He looked over to Mor, who was still holding up her hands the exact same way. She held eye contact with Azriel and then switched to looking at the gap between her hands, before looking back at him with an impressed look on her face.

If it weren’t for the well-known fact that Mor’s mind was constantly horny then he wouldn’t have a clue what she was doing. But because of that fact, plus Azriel being so clever, he put it all together.

Azriel coughed subtly, before taking his hands away from his cutlery and holding out his own hands. He held them slightly further apart than Mor’s.

“It’s actually more like this.”

Mor’s jaw went slack.

She could not believe that quiet, shy-boy, Azriel had just said what he said and did what he did.

You watched the whole thing and sunk further down into your chair.

“Please stop.” You mumbled.

The girls started squealing again, meaning that they’d seen the little dramatic too. You’d been too busy focusing on Azriel and his hands to notice though.

It was his fault he was too distracting. You often told him his beauty would one day get him in trouble.

“That’s….” Feyre gawked.

“Big!”

“Huge!”

“Oh Mother above… Y/N how are you still alive?”

A flurry of comments from the girls made you go cherry red. This was worse than the wine evening itself. Now under the spotlight of your mate too, it only increased the embarrassing situation tenfold.

Cassian stopped eating for a minute to find that Rhys looked very unimpressed by his giggling mate. Nesta and Elain were fanning themselves like they were in heat. Mor looked like she was majorly impressed by something. You looked like you wanted the Mother to swallow you whole and Azriel… well he looked like a the cockiest Illyrian he had ever seen.

“Wait?! Did I miss something again?”

[honeyedfate]

operation: no hate, just date | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

the objective is clear—make both of your fans believe that you and jake, in fact, don’t hate each other by convincing them that you’re actually in love. which you are. sadly, jake doesn’t get to shout it from the rooftops like he desperately wants to. instead he’s trapped in an elaborate plan that’s moving at a snail’s pace, but one night on weverse with the boys might speed things up.

genre. fluff & very very mildly suggestive

a/n. this is the second part to loverboy! you can read it by itself if u want but it might be more fun if u don’t lol enjoy! x

[ › first part ][ › third part ]

it’s been a week since jake and you were pulled aside and shoved into a meeting room where an unforeseen entourage informed him that he sucks at being your boyfriend but makes for a great arch nemesis. he had left that intervention feeling annoyed and his privacy violated, but at least they had a plan. whether that plan is a good one is still up for debate.

grey sweater guy from pr keeps responding to yuki’s plentiful emails with stupid roundabouts of how patience is a virtue and playing the long game always benefits the player. the problem is jake has no patience, and the only person who seems to get it is you.

which is likely why even after the fourth facetime call of the day, his darling-angel of a girlfriend has yet to tell him to piss off. he keeps peeking at his phone, which he has propped up against his pillow, only to begrudgingly return to his scattered lego set, positive he’ll crash out if he doesn’t hear your voice soon.

when the call finally connects and you appear on the screen, it’s like watching the sun rise. jake can feel the tension leaving his body and a lopsided smile curving over his lips. he’s hopeless, really.

you grin through the phone, hands in your hair as you tie it back, and say by way of greeting, “yunjin showed me a tiktok earlier.”

abandoning whatever he was building, jake scoots closer to his phone. “what was it about?”

“us, of course,” you say cheerily, and jake swears his heart skips a beat. not because he’s anxious of what you’re about to say but because it happens every time you refer to him and you as an item. an entity. it’s embarrassing but he kind of likes it. he likes being an idiot for you.

“someone put together a bunch of clips of everything we’ve been doing this week and it blew up on twitter.” you gently rub your oil cleanser over your face.

jake perks up at your words. he didn’t think anyone would’ve noticed any of the stuff he was told to do as part of the stupid plan. an unsettling concoction of excitement and terror swirls in his stomach. “what did they say?” he asks, fiddling with a lego piece.

you take a moment to wipe off your eye makeup, scrunching your nose when jake calls you a panda. “apparently people have been noticing how close we stood on the encore stage and that we kept looking at each other. it’s funny—i didn’t realise in that moment, but when i watched it back it looked like you’re either creeping up on me or you’re extremely terrified.”

jake tilts his head. “terrified of what? you?” he furrows his brows. “i just looked at you a couple of times like they told us to.”

“i know you did.” you turn off the faucet and grab a towel to dry off your face, trying to keep the amusement in your voice at bay. “but, babe, you’re either staring me down—unblinking—or you’re casting glances at me like you’re scared i’ll turn around and jump you.” you can’t help but giggle. “someone commented, ‘i can’t tell if jake is contemplating if he should push y/n off the stage or if he should throw himself off it.’”

jake gawks at you with his mouth agape. “that’s what they’re saying?”

you nod. he falls backward with a groan and covers his faces with his arms. “i can’t believe it. that’s what it looked like to them? really?”

“i know.” you say, more amused than empathetic.

“that’s crazy,” he says, pushing himself upright again, hair sticking out even messier than it had before. “i’m actively trying to act like a lovesick fool—which i am! don’t even—and people still think i’m trying to break your neck? that’s insane.”

you hum supportively. “at least some people believe you were offering to break your own neck for me. that’s romantic, right? we might be on the right track here.” you keep your tone playful, but jake looks at you with his starry eyes and pouty lips, resembling nothing short of a kicked puppy.

“i’m sorry i keep messing this up,” he says and the thinness in his voice makes your heart break.

“jake, you’re not messing anything up.” he looks at his hands, avoiding your gaze. “you can’t control these things, people will interpret and perceive it however they like. it’s always been this way, and it’s always been out of our control. doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“i don’t know, y/n,” he says quietly, and the sight of him hanging his head has you nearly sneaking out of the dorms and going over to his. you’ve never seen him look this miserably at a lego set before. “if i wasn’t so awkward and knew what to do, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“no one’s perfect and all-knowing.” you pick up your phone with a frown. “and why do you keep calling it a mess? is that what you think this is?” you enter your room and get into your bed. jake looks up at the sounds of your blanket and wishes desperately he was there with you.

instead, he loosens a breath and sweeps the lego pieces onto the manual, placing it on the floor and going under the blanket as well. “what else should i call it?” he says. “it’s not a blessing.”

you ponder his words. “a mess would be our sex tape getting leaked or people making up rumours that we’re drug dealers or cannibals.”

jake cocks his head. “like hannibal?”

“i meant more like in ‘bones and all’ but sure.”

“oh.” he scratches his face. “well, we’re neither of those things. we also don’t have a sex tape.” the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“no, we don’t.” you pout, forcing a mock sigh. “but we could always make one? ‘operation: no hate, no date,’ am i right?” you waggle your eyebrows at him, prompting a wry smile to flicker across his face.

“they’ll watch it and come to the conclusion that i hate you even more.”

you huff a laugh. “we will probably also get kicked out of hybe and have to start slinging fishcakes on the street. which sounds like fun, to be honest. oh! we could make our own jingle and sing it for our customers. maybe we won’t even have to make the fishcakes if we’re successful enough.”

this earns you a laugh. “that’s just busking, baby. what you want to do is busk.”

you gasp in fake surprise before settling for a rueful sigh. “i am but an artist.”

jake presses his lips together as if to say ‘good riddance, what tragic calling’ with a saddened face before the two of you dissolve into giggles.

“okay, i get it.” he turns to lie on his side, face squished against his pillow. “going from idol to man with leaked sex tape who sings on the street and runs an unsuccessful fishcake stand would be a mess. but this is not?”

“correct.”

“i’m so relieved then.” he grins toothily at you and, of course, you reciprocate it. an involuntarily yawn slips through your lips and jake coos at you.

“is my girl tired after working hard all day?”

“she’s exhausted,” you affirm with bleary eyes. “you seem chipper for someone who’s usually drooling on his pillow by midnight.”

jake shrugs. “i’m not sleepy yet.”

you hold back another yawn. “do you want me to stay awake until you are?”

he smiles at you fondly, relishing in the softness of your drowsy voice. “it’s all right. you should go to sleep, baby.” he glances at the clock on his phone. “i think i’ll go live for a bit. haven’t done one in a while.”

“aren’t we feeling chatty tonight,” you tease, eyes fully closed now. jake swears he actually dies at how cute you look and smashes that screenshot button repeatedly. “i’ll leave you to it then. greet engenes for me.”

he grimaces. “if i do that, you’ll get your jingle and fishcake dreams fulfilled by tomorrow morning because we’ll both be unemployed.”

“sounds lovely.” you rub your eyes.

“yeah,” jake merely whispers, attention span momentarily off the rails as his doting gaze traces your face. he takes another screenshot for good measure. “good night, pretty girl,” he says tenderly, raspy voice and all. “see you tomorrow for the dance challenge and the fishcakes.”

a giggle bubbles out of you, and you crack your eyes open to offer your best, dozy smile. “and the busking. don’t forget the busking.”

“i would never. i’ll even steal one of jay’s guitars.”

you nod, pleased. “we’ll be on the run like bonnie and clyde. except for all the atrocities, of course.”

jake helplessly swoons. “i love you.”

“i love you too. good night, baby.”

the intensity at which his pulse quickens and his stomach tumbles needs to be studied because it should not be humanly possible to be so goddamn whipped. he’s not ashamed to admit that he could write lines upon lines of poetry right now just to ode your every quality and marvel at the curve of your mouth.

again, hopeless. but he’s more than okay with it.

so what if he flips onto his stomach right after the call ends, smiling blissfully into his pillow and kicking his feet? he might not be a lover boy, but he is in love.

with that same crooked smile that is probably etched onto his face forever, he opens the weverse app on his phone and opts for a voice live. as the first few people pool in, he gets lost in mindless chatter. it’s always nice to do lives at night. mainly because they make him drowsy.

at some point, he gets up for the bottle on his desk, hoping that chugging some water will wake him up. but when he returns to his bed and glances at his phone, comments keep flooding in at a speed that make them very hard to read.

“what’s this?” he chuckles nervously. “what happened? i just went to get some water.”

enhaswife: jungwon is live!! go live with him plss

sim hitomi: jungwonnie is live~~

xo, liz: CAN U GO LIVE WITH JUNGWON ‼️

“jungwonnie is live?” jake raises a brow. “that’s actually pretty early for him. it’s not even one yet.” he settles back into his bed. “i was here first though, so you guys have to tell him to come. tell him to come send a request.”

he watches the number of viewers decline rapidly, all of them seemingly leaving to do his bidding. he wields too much power and it might actually go to his head, he thinks to himself in amusement. “i told him,” he reads out loud. “i told him, he’s coming, i told him. you guys are so cute.”

not long after, the request pops up and jake is quick to accept it. his screen splits in two before jungwon’s eager face appears before him.

“yooiii,” jake greets him with a wide smile.

“yoooiiii,” jungwon practically shouts into his phone with excitement that is more appropriate for daylight hours. “what’s this? why aren’t you showing your face, hyung? are you naked?”

“what?” jake guffaws, adjusting his phone. “no, my hair’s just all over the place. engenes don’t need to see me like this.”

“oh, okay.” jungwon nods understandably as his eyes flit over the computer screen before him. the song that’s currently playing in the background changes to a more calm melody, and jake sinks further into his blanket, nearly letting out a moan at how snug he feels. “he’s bald, by the way.”

jake jolts so hard he nearly tumbles out of his bed.

“jungwon!” he watches as the comments explode into chaos. “oh my god, what have you done.”

the younger boy ignores him. “ni-ki shaved his head after practice, you know. he got the clippers from hair and makeup and went right at it. they weren’t too happy about it, but it went well. thankfully, i am so happy to announce that our hyung does not have an egghead.”

jake burst out laughing, glimpsing how jungwon’s smile expands with delight when he hears it. “i nearly lost an ear, but yes. all’s good.”

“he gave his hair to jay,” jungwon continues for no apparent reason except to bring jay into this. “he put it in a nice ziplock bag and gave it to him. jay almost cried. he was really touched.”

jake is clutching his sides, trying to keep his laughter down. before he can speak, a highlighted message pops up in the comments.

JAY: Ya! Why are you ruining my image

JAY: When jake gave me his bag of hair I wept

JAY: I wept.

JAY: Get your facts straight punk

“hyung!” jungwon says delightfully. “you’re here too. what’s going on, why are we all awake? is this a party?”

“it’s just us three here,” jake remarks, still chuckling. “what party only has three guests?”

jungwon shrugs. “i’ve never been to one.”

JAY: Me neither

jake cups his neck, deciding to join them despite the fact that there are plenty of pictures of them at several afterparties. “me neither.”

JAY: Wow

“wooow,” jungwon echoes, lips tugging into a smirk. jake frowns. did he miss something? before he can address it, a comment stands out to him.

“yes, we are a sad bunch,” he says jokingly in response to it. “you’re breaking my heart, engenes. no need to rub it in.”

jungwon snickers. “these comments are so fun tonight. i usually only get song recommendations. seriously, what’s happening? where are all my engenes who ask me to play chamber 5 for the eighth time?”

JAY: It’s because I’m here

JAY: I bring the smart ones

JAY: Also can you play chamber 5

“it’s my live.” jake scoffs when he reads jay’s comments. “they were here before you two came, and we always have very stimulating discussions.”

that’s not true. earlier’s heated topic of conversation was whether a tiger or a tiger shark would win in a fight. but jungwon and jay don’t need to know that.

“oh, hey, we’re tripple j,” jake randomly observes while suppressing a yawn.

“we are!” jungwon says enthusiastically. “the moment jay came in, all the comments were saying tripple j. imagine if all of our names started with a j. septuple j!”

JAY: Junghoon

JAY: Jeeseung, junoo, ji-ki

JAY: Annyeonghasaeyo, jenhypen-imnida

jake snorts. he glances at the time and lets another yawn overtake him. “guys, i think i’ll go to sleep. i can barely hold my eyes open.”

“i was waiting for you to say that,” jungwon quips.

“oh?” jake pushes himself up to fluff his pillow. “why? do i sound tired?”

JAY: Ow hay weor wibble j

jake furrows his brows, nearly suffering a stroke trying to read that. “hah. you’re funny.”

JAY: yoar wonny

“ahjussi, please go to bed,” jake says fondly and pulls his blanket up to his ears, letting it almost swallow him. “you’re talking gibberish again.”

JAY: :(((

jungwon ignores them, typing away on his keyboard. “i think i’ll continue my live for a bit if engenes want to join me.”

“yes, keep him company, guys.” jake yawns once more and quickly skims the comments one last time. his mind has become delirious, not really making sense of any of the words on his screen. he’s no longer thinking straight. he’s not thinking, period. which might be why his focus zeroes in on your name as it passes by.

he scrolls back up, looking for it, and finds himself reading it out loud without a second thought.

“do you want me to fight y/n for you?”

he lets his arm fall over his eyes with a funny expression on his face that no one can see and that he’s not even aware of. a mental image of you occupies half of his mind while the other half has simply shut off.

chuckling, he replies, “nah, i can take her.”

it goes quiet in the room as jake’s breathing evens out and jungwon’s typing slows down.

“hyung,” he says with emphasis, a warning tone laced in his voice. jake blinks an eye open, way too tired to grasp the gravity of what he has done. jungwon, on the other hand, is close to breaking out in hives as the comments go ballistic.

jay is not of much help either. he has left the live to message the group chat, asking if they’re now in trouble and if they’re going to kidnap you and jake again. from what jungwon can gauge based on the rapid fire notifications he’s getting, jay’s coming in clutch with quotes and screenshots of the comments, and heeseung’s immediate reaction is to cackle away.

enhaswife2: wiat whaT DID HE JUST SAY

myseven: oh REALLY >:( y/n count ur days

sunoo’s gf: you sure about that? I can fight

xiiuu7: leave y/n to me, i can handle her for you

jake reads the comments through fluttering eyes, somehow finding it all very entertaining. “oh, i take her just fine, thanks.” he rolls onto his stomach, eyes closed, smiling like an idiot, and mutters into his pillow, “i’ve handled her in more ways you can—”

his door slams open.

not a second later, jungwon stands before him in his pyjamas and snatches his phone out of his hands, breathing heavily. it lands next to jake on his pillow with a thud. screen now black.

“hyung, have you gone mad?!” jungwon stares down at him in bewilderment, his own phone in his hand lightening up every microsecond. “are you actually insane? why would you say that into the microphone?”

jake blinks up at him. “what?”

another person joins them. “what’s going on?” sunoo’s socked feet pad over the floor as he pulls down his headphones, regarding the two of them carefully. “i heard doors slamming.”

wordlessly, jungwon passes him his unlocked phone. it’s opened to a twitter account transcribing and translating in real time what had just been said on their live, including jake’s slurred but still perfectly understandable words. in other words, stan twitter is going insane.

sunoo gasps, eyes widening with each tweet as he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. he’s reading all kinds of things—engenes who are losing it and speaking of you, your group, and your fans as if there’ll be a sword fight at dawn.

your fans who are thoroughly disoriented and confused but ready to go for blood anyway because ‘what does he MEAN he can take her?? take her WHERE?????’

and people who don’t even listen to either group but are dying over the comedic timing of jake uttering those words, jungwon hurling himself out of his chair, his footsteps thumping in the hallway, the doors banging, and the live ending all under two minutes.

some people also seem to believe that jake is bald for some reason? sunoo shakes his head in disbelief. it’s like the internet has been bored for too long, and this has revived them.

an eternity must’ve passed now, and jungwon is still lecturing a very sleepy jake whose words and actions have finally caught up to him when sunoo suddenly yelps. he practically tosses the phone in the air, and both boys turn their attention to him. with a gulp, sunoo flips the screen around and holds it at an arm’s length.

“yuki is calling.”

jungwon exchanges a look with jake before he grabs his phone. “hello?” he says, clearing his throat. sunoo leans in to try and listen. jake, on the other hand, stays frozen on his bed, not even daring to breathe.

a heavy sigh sounds on the other line. “jungwon?”

“…yes?”

“there’s a change of plans.”

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter five

1 2 3 4

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 3.2k

You decided to stay away from the triplets until the wedding, especially after the weird, sexual thoughts you had about Chris the last time you guys were together. You figured it was best to keep your distance and let your mind sort itself out before you saw him again, or any of them for that matter, fearing you might slip up and say something stupid and have them catch on to the terrifying things going on in your mind. Luckily, the thoughts had mostly subsided, except when you were alone late at night, your vibrator calling to you from your bedside table. You couldn’t help the fact that the original fantasy you had imagined after your date, Chris taking you on the bathroom floor, would infiltrate your mind just as you were about to hit your peak, being the one and only thing you had orgasmed to the thought of in the last week.

But now, you find yourself showing up to the triplets’ house in a pair of sweats and a crop top, your dress, makeup and hair products thrown in a bag as you had decided to get ready there, wanting their input and mostly just their company. “I’m here!” You call as you let yourself into their house, not hearing anyone respond to you so you just head up the stairs towards the living room, still not seeing anyone there.

You huff and place your things down on the table, heading towards Matt’s room, where you hear a bit of commotion going on. You push the door open and see him on his PC, headphones securely on his head as he played fortnite, seemingly with his brothers since nobody had answered you. You walk up to him and place both of your hands on his shoulders and he jumps, whipping his head around to look at you.

“Holy shit!” He yells, putting a hand over his heart. “You scared the fuck out of me!”

You giggle and wave down at him. “Just trying to see where everyone is,” you tell him. He pulls his headset off and leans in to give you a side hug from where he sat.

“Everyone’s in their room,” he tells you, pulling away. “Chris said you can get ready in his room because he already showered and Nick still has to after we get off.”

You nod and ruffle Matt’s hair, telling him ‘thanks’ and ‘good luck’ before you leave his room and grab your things, heading downstairs to Chris’s room where the door is already open. This time he sees you come in and just shoots you a glance before turning back to his game, and you’re grateful he pays you no mind, walking past him and into his bathroom.

He leaves you completely unbothered for the next hour and a half, even once they’re done playing games and Matt and Nick have come to check on you a couple times, Chris stays perched in his gaming chair, scrolling on his phone. You’re fine with this, only really wanting the company of his brothers anyway, but when you’re almost ready and all you have to do is get your dress on, you walk out to him and stand directly in front of his chair.

He drags his eyes up your body until he meets your face, his shocked expression taking over for a moment before he gets it under control, dropping his phone to his lap to see what you have to say. “Can you get dressed?” You ask him. “I want to leave in like ten to fifteen minutes.”

Chris sighs and pushes himself up off of his chair, walking over to his closet so he could grab his suit that hung up in there. He comes back and throws it on his bed then grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to start to change in front of you, and to avoid what you’ve coined as your ‘intrusive Chris thoughts’, you turn and head back into the bathroom, shutting the door to create a barrier between the two of you, especially since you figured now was a good time to change into your dress as well.

Once you’re changed you open the door again and see Chris just about done, buttoning up his pants. He looks up at you and pauses, taking in your full frame, dress on, hair and makeup done, legs probably shaved. You clear your throat to ease the tension, stepping out of the bathroom and towards him, turning around once you reach him and he understands that you’re in need of help once more. He reaches forward and grabs the zipper that rested low on your back, pulling it all the way up to the top. He then tucks his fingers in the straps and drags them forward, straightening out any twists in them.

You turn around and face him once more, muttering a small ‘thanks’, to which he nods slightly. Your hair was up in a neat bun, a few curls particularly placed andfalling out of it and also framing your face, your makeup a subtle, neutral look as to not be too attention seeking, and although both were simple in itself, the combination of that plus the dress that adorned your body had been no doubt the sexiest you’d looked in a long time, and even Chris couldn’t deny that. He refused to speak, afraid of what would slip past his lips if he parted them.

“Need help with your tie again?” You ask him and he just nods again, reaching towards the bed to grab it and hold it up towards you.

You grab the tie and reach around his neck, starting to tie it for him. You both remained silent throughout this interaction, feeling awkward at the tension that filled the room, yet you tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand, fingers fumbling with the fabric but ultimately getting it done, running your hand over his chest when you’re done. “Good,” you tell him, taking a step back.

You guys look at each other for a couple more moments, and you’re about to speak, sucking in a deep breath, when you hear the door fly open and Nick walks through it.

“Woah!” He yells, looking at the two of you that now face him. “You guys look incredible!”

Matt saunters in behind him, jaw dropping at the sight of you both. “Holy shit, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you guys were actually a couple.” He laughs, walking closer to you.

You smile shyly and drop your shoulders, hoping the earth opens up and swallows you whole, hating the attention that was directed at you. “Hey,” Matt says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Stand up straight, you look beautiful.”

You listen, straightening up to appear more confident. “Thanks,” you respond. “I feel really pretty.”

Matt beams back at you. “You should. Take lots of pictures today, I wanna see what you guys get up to.”

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s chill out yeah?” Chris moans. “We leaving or what?”

You roll your eyes at his comment, not understanding why he always had an issue with yours and Matt’s relationship, always feeling the need to say something out of pocket like that. It wasn’t just recently, it’s been always, and despite the two of you being close, it was always platonic. The cuddling, the pet names, you knew for a fact you guys didn’t have feelings for each other, but Chris seemed to think otherwise.

“Yeah, we can leave,” you reply, heading to his door and walking up the stairs. You had left your shoes off, not wanting to put them on until you get to the actual wedding since you had a longer drive ahead of you, so you pick those up off of the floor and grab your purse off of the table, sliding it over your shoulder. Chris follows you up the stairs and into the living room where he puts his shoes on, both of you finally fully ready to leave.

Matt and Nick walk you guys to the door and you and Chris exit the home, heading towards your car. “Can I play music again?” Chris asks once you guys are settled and you nod. “Of course, just don’t mess with my directions, I have no idea where I’m going.”

Chris chuckles a bit at you and grabs your phone, starting to queue music for the ride. You’re about ten minutes into the ride, listening to the music Chris had decided to play, when you reach forward and lower the volume, clearing your throat. “Okay, so. You remember the story of how we started dating?”

He sighs over-dramatically, turning his head towards you. “We met in high school, we’ve been friends for the last seven years, we decided six months ago that we were just so in love and couldn’t hide it anymore, I took you on a date and the rest is history. Easy enough.”

You smile and nod. “Yep! Everything else I feel like we can just make up on the spot. Oh, and don’t forget to call me babe instead of my name, gotta make sure we’re convincing.”

Chris grimaces. “Babe…” he says under his breath. “Kinda cringe, no?”

“What, would you rather call me baby? Sweetie? Honey? Cutie pie?” You retort with a scoff. “I think babe is the most mundane of them all.”

“I guess,” he responds. “How long are we staying?”

“I have no idea, Chris, as long as I feel like it. Just have a few drinks and chill the fuck out, it’ll go by fast.” You tell him.

It wasn’t like you wanted to spend your whole night with someone who would rather be anywhere but near you, but it needed to be done for the sake of your sanity. You couldn’t go another moment listening to people ask you why you didn’t have a boyfriend. Your family has always been the invasive type, asking personal and borderline intimate questions that didn’t involve them at all, so dealing with Chris for one night was worth the peace and quiet you know you’d get from them, apart from all of the questions about your relationship.

After the nearly forty-five minute car ride, you park your car in the lot outside the church, sighing in relief. “I gotta put my heels on then I’m ready to go in,” you tell him, and he nods, not looking up from his phone.

As you’re putting your shoes on, still sitting in the car, Chris speaks up. “How lovey are we going? Like.. from honeymoon phase to established couple, how much should I be touching you?”

You finish buckling the straps on your heels, then sit up and push some hair out of your face, looking over at Chris. “We might have to go full honeymoon phase, unfortunately. If they think for even a second that this isn’t real, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Chris groans, letting himself out of the car and around to your door, opening it for you and holding a hand out for you to grab. “Alright, let’s do this then.”

You grab his hand and let yourself out of the car, locking it and dropping your keys into your purse. “Wow, you’re such a gentleman when you want to be, huh?”

“I’m actually a very good boyfriend, contrary to whatever you think about me.” Chris leans in as you walk side by side, lips inches away from your ear. “I’m also a very attentive lover,” he whispers.

You whip your head around and slap his chest with the hand that isn’t entwined in his. “Gross! Not something I need to know. Why have you gone so sexual on me lately?”

“What are you talking about?” Chris questions, opening the door to the church for you, letting you walk in before him.

You walk in and turn to watch him come in behind you, lowering your voice. “Telling me you’re an attentive lover, talking about fucking me on the bathroom floor, telling me how hot I am, bending me over your bed.”

Chris rolls his eyes, leading you towards the sanctuary where the ceremony was being held. “I’m not saying I want to fuck you, I’m saying you want to fuck me. And sorry for trying to make you feel better when you’re crying over your body that you definitely shouldn’t be crying about.”

You guys take your seat near the back, settling in nice and close to each other. “I don’t want to fuck you,” you tell him quietly. “Sorry if I got your hopes up.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” he responds, reaching down to place his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently.

You look down at where his hand is placed, the unfamiliar feeling sending shivers down your spine. “See?” Chris whispers, leaning in close to you. “You want me so bad.”

You whip your head up, your faces only inches apart. “Don’t want you at all,” you grumble. “God, I can’t wait to start drinking, you’re way too much to handle.”

“Or am I just clouding your thoughts and you need to drown it out with alcohol?” Chris retorts, smirk evident in his voice.

You reach for his waist and pinch him, hard, glaring at him. “What the fuck has gotten into you? Seriously?” Your tone is aggressive but you’re speaking lowly in a whisper. “Why do you think I want you so bad? Why do you want me to want you so bad? Is there something you need to tell me?”

Chris rolls his eyes, pushing your hand away from him and rubbing the spot where you pinched him. “Don’t need to tell you anything, I just like getting you riled up. Angry you is kinda hot.”

Your eyes widen like saucers, unable to believe that he’s still going, despite you practically yelling at him. “Chris, shut the fuck up before I smack the shit out of you.”

Chris leans back into you, lips grazing over your ear as he starts to speak. You know you should pull away and create distance between the two of you, but something inside of you is keeping you put, staying completely still. “Can you pull my hair too?”

You take a deep breath, the so called intrusive Chris thoughts starting to trickle back into your mind, infiltrating your sanity. It was only the start of the day for fuck’s sake and he had already gotten under your skin, how were you supposed to deal with him the entire rest of the night?

You turn your head away from him, now facing the altar with a stoic expression. “Enough,” you tell him, voice laced with finality.

Chris turns his body as well, staring straight ahead, though his hand still rested on your thigh, too high up for comfort, and you’re grateful that you’re at a wedding and wearing a long dress and not at a family barbecue in shorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle the feeling of skin on skin right now.

The ceremony starts, and as beautiful as it is, it barely serves as a distraction to the terror in your head. You had never thought about Chris like this, and sure he was attractive but that doesn’t mean he made you nervous or made you overthink every interaction. You hadn’t even thought about Matt like this and you guys were super close, always touching, cuddling and calling each other cute names, so why was Chris making you feel this way?

You chalk it up to just being desperate for man’s touch after so long, telling yourself there was no way you were actually craving Chris’s touch in particular, you were just needy and insanely horny.

After the ceremony is over, you stay seated for a few minutes, letting people filter out of the sanctuary before you decide to leave. You’re hoping you can make it to the reception before you have to start introducing Chris to people, but that wish is crushed when your mom and sister walk over to you guys, beaming from ear to ear.

“Hi!” Your mom gushed, leaning down to hug you tightly, rubbing your back as she did so. “Oh my god, you look so beautiful!”

You smile at her and accept the compliment, standing up from your seat to hug your sister as well. Chris stands up next to you but stays silent.

Your mom locks eyes with you and wiggles her eyebrows. “And who is this?” She asks, giddy.

“This is Chris,” you introduce both parties to each other, and Chris reaches forward, shaking hands with both your mom and sister.

“Nice to meet you guys,” he says. “I hear a lot about you.” Lie.

Your mom puts a hand over her chest, pouting slightly. “Oh how precious. You guys look so cute together.”

“Thanks,” he laughs. “All credit goes to her. She picked out my tie and I think she’s definitely pulling her weight in making us look like a good couple. I mean, she looks stunning.”

You turn your head to Chris and he turns and smiles at you, sending a discreet wink your way. He’s turned it on, and it almost scares you how good he is at this. He’s already got your mom wrapped around his finger.

“I would have to agree,” your mom boasts, still smiling as hard as she can. “Hey listen, we gotta get going but we’ll see you over there, yeah?” You nod and hug them both one more time before they leave and you and Chris both feel a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“You’re way too good at that,” you tell Chris, shaking your head.

Chris laughs and gestures for you to exit the row you’re sitting in, ready to get out of her and back in the car. “Told you I’m a good boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Yeah, if only you were a good friend, too.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows as he follows behind you, processing the words you just said to him. “Ouch,” is all he replies.

You guys leave the church and get back in your car, both of you letting out a sigh of relief from being out of the church, even though the only person you had to see so far was your mom.

“How much you gonna drink today?” You ask Chris, mostly as a joke.

Thankfully, Chris laughs. “A lot.”

You giggle, grabbing your phone to find directions to wherever the reception was. “Me too,” you respond.

“There’s a fine line, though. Gotta make sure I drink enough to survive being your boyfriend, but not drink so much that I actually want to be your boyfriend.” Chris jokes, at least you hope he’s joking.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts, Christopher. Better not try to kiss me or something.”

Chris groans. “Yeah, right. I’ll probably kiss your mom before I kiss you. She’s hot.”

You squeal, smacking his chest. “Ew! Don’t talk about my mom like that.”

“Dude, have you seen her? She’s a fucking rocket.” Chris whistles to drive the point home, laughing at your disgusted expression.

“You’re finding your own way home tonight.”

Chris just smirks. “I know exactly who I’m going home with tonight.”

“Enough!”

-

a/n: feel like i’m edging you guys a little TOOOO much. maybe we’ll switch it up soon. also im sorry I told yall this chapter was gonna be boring 😔

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @chrisslollipop @noplaceissafeanymore @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @pvssychicken @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @afilmbykay @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @r0s3luvr @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @sturnburbs @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @victoryouactuallydidthis @seluky10 @annsx03 @ouchywow @sluttybitchformattsturniolo

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[satorugu]

In Every Era Part 2 (Sukuna x f!reader)

She is the reincarnation of his love, and he plans to be with her in every era.

PART 1 HERE

Warnings: Blood, violence, fighting, angst, lots of fluff

Note: The readers technique relates to ice and being able to lower the temperatures around her enough to create it. If the text is italicized it is one of the dreams she had. All take place during the Heian era, both Heian era and the version of Sukuna in Itadori's body is included. Takes place during the Shibuya Incident, and quotes the episode's sub at times.

The dreams hadn't stopped.

First, it was that night, the night she fell asleep in his arms.

Then she had another one following it.

Then a third.

It was always a memory from her point of view, so vivid she felt she could still feel his touch when she woke up. They were small, but they got her through the night, always sleeping straight through it.

That kiss was imbued with cursed energy. She didn't know how, but she knew that had something to do with it.

She couldn't take her mind off of it.

Every single night.

"Curses and mutations are mindless, you don't need to harness much cursed energy to exorcise them, although it is made out to be that way," Sukuna said. "If you make a hit on them before they can attack you, you have a better chance at survival."

She was sitting on his lap, up upon his throne. His body heat radiated onto her shoulders, his strong abdomen pressed against her back.

"Is there a reason you're sharing this with me?" (Y/N) asked curiously.

"So you will utilize this information when the time may come my dear," he told her. "Aim for the head."

"I don't think it will ever come," she laughed.

"You are correct to assume that," Sukuna said, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her closer to him. "I won't allow for anyone to harm you."

This was a trick.

The King of Curses wouldn't and couldn't possess emotions like these. He murdered hundreds of thousands, known to be the most powerful sorcerer in history. He needed something from her, to get her to trust him so he could use her and kill her afterward.

These memories were false, she was sure of it.

So she began avoiding Itadori, training after hours and for longer durations to be able to both strengthen herself and not be confronted by the eyes below his. In the end she would return to her dorm exhausted, forgetting that when she fell asleep she would be greeted by what she fled most.

Then a week had turned into a month.

"Master Sukuna had a gift delivered to your dressing room," the maid said almost timidly to (Y/N), as she bowed her head.

She made an emphasis on the fact it was in her dressing room rather than her bedroom. Being that her quarters were Sukuna's, the only part of the palace that was officially hers was her dressing room, which translated to a massive closet. It was filled to the brim with the nicest jewelry available in the lands, along with dresses he had especially picked out for her. It was also a known fact that the garden belonged to (Y/N), although it wasn't claimed by her. She fell in love with the area, so he made it off limits to others.

Unfortunately for her, he was away, handling a nearby village.

Two more servants gathered at the large double doors that led to the dressing room, opening them for her.

Inside was a large bouquet of flowers, white at the tips that slowly faded into a reddish-purple. It was as if they were glowing, vibrant and perky underneath the lighting. The vase was a piece within itself, like clear vines that curled around the stems of the flowers and bunched them all together.

Next to it sat a scroll, bound together by a cursed energy imbued seal. She was quick to unravel it, reading the hand-written, inked message.

'Although I am far away, I will remind you of my love.'

'These flowers are eternal, they will forever stay by your side, just as I will.'

'Sincerely, Ryo.'

She didn't think much of the dream, assuming it was some way of trying to make her think he actually loved her. Instead, she lingered around the campus after hours, honing a new ability with her ice technique. Once she grew sleepy, she returned to her dorm, entering the dark room to see something glowing on her desk.

It was a vibrant and perky flower, with white at the tips that slowly faded into a reddish-purple. While it didn't sit in a vase, it was unnaturally filled with life, acting as a light in pitch black atmosphere.

She thought she was hallucinating, reaching out a hand to pick it up, hoping it would dissolve as soon as she touched it.

The flower sat in her room for a week after that, as she continued to deny the significance behind it.

(Y/N) thought she could get out of having to see Itadori, but it seemed otherwise when another crisis hit.

A large curtain was cast around Shibuya, along with one at Meiji-Jingumae Station. Reports that mutated humans were attacking civillians inside were quick to spread, and both (Y/N) and Itadori were sent to handle it.

"I'll deal with the mutated ones, you search through the station for anymore hostages," she told him quickly, hoping they wouldn't have to interact much.

As soon as the two had met up inside the city, the eyes underneath his own appeared. They felt familiar now, a burning reminder of the dream she had the previous night.

They were in his bedroom, if it even could be called that.

It was larger than the average, with a desk that sat by an extravagant stained glass window, and a large table towards the center. The bed for the two of them sat against the wall, both of them already out of it, yet choosing to stay in one another's company.

Sukuna stood around the table, eyeing a set of scrolls as his wife sat at his desk. The chair was far too big for someone of her size, which he grew to love.

“I want to perform a binding vow between you and I,” he started.

“A binding vow?” (Y/N) asked, having yet to take her eyes off what she was reading.

“A pact bound through Jujutsu, except this one has specific terms accounted with it.”

As the words left his mouth he slipped his hand around her jaw, taking her by surprised as she looked up at him.

"I want to be with you in every era, as you pass, and once you are reincarnated. We will be bound together, it will be destined for you to wed me."

"And it's consequences?" she wondered.

"There are none, this vow is unable to be broken, it will see through that we are meant to be," Sukuna said. "And that you will remain mine."

She wasn't that knowledgeable on binding vows like the one he described, except for the fact it was supposed to leave a mark on your wrist. (Y/N) didn't have one though, so she assumed it was false.

A mutated curse barreled towards her, shards if ice being driven through it's skull as her pink haired friend ran down the hall. She flipped over it's corpse as it fell to the ground, attacking the others before they could make a move on her, and aiming for their heads.

The efficiency behind it was impressive, as she scolded herself internally for doing as the King of Curses had once advised.

And yet she continued for what felt like an hour, going through the motions up until the lights flickered off and she could hear fighting in the lower levels of the station.

Something was off.

(Y/N) jumped down the set of escalators and began running through the station that was almost unrecognizable. She could tell Itadori had fought here, as the remains of his strength imprinted different surfaces.

She was following her gut at that moment, turning down a set of halls until she saw a light bloom at the end of one. She could feel the heat as she got closer, as it formed an orange and yellow blur.

Screams came after the flames.

Two girls who had somehow survived being burnt alive, each coughing and holding onto one another.

As she turned the corner she saw him, Itadori, laying against the wall unconscious. He was littered in cuts, specifically his shoulder which was bleeding out. A special grade curse, Jogo, stood over him, a finger in his hand as he slipped it down the pink haired boy's throat and tilted his head back. She recognized him from the time he fought Gojo, as her eyes lingered over Itadori's figure.

(Y/N) could see the markings on his face.

She thought she might throw up.

"Don't waste my time," the special grade squinted is eyes at the three of them.

He went to lift up his arm and attack, only for it to begin bleeding out in front of him.

"I'll give you one second."

It felt like everything had frozen in place.

Silence in the dark hallway.

"Move."

The special grade fearfully jumped back, now a line of four.

(Y/N) felt her hands tremble, as sweat formed across her forehead and her heartbeat picked up in her ears. They were all that way, as the figure slowly stood up and brushed himself off.

Strength of a different kind than Satoru Gojo.

Overwhelmingly evil.

Fear that even the slightest move could lead to death.

He began to come towards them, as the wounds across his body healed themselves.

As his footsteps grew louder, she felt as if she might pass out.

Then they stopped, and he brushed his hair back in orderly fashion.

"You hold your heads quite high."

That voice.

It felt like there were invisible hands that wrapped around her back, guiding her down to a bowing position without control over her own body. She ended up in the same formation as the other two girls, as a wave brushed over top of the four that would have killed them.

"Did you believe taking one knee was enough?" Sukuna questioned.

The top of Jogo's head was cut off, considering he only kneeled. It was similar to a volcano, purple blood spewing out the top as he bled out.

"The greatest men bow the lowest, or so it goes. I see you value your heads quite lightly."

She could feel him looking down at her, as she stared at the cold floor and begged that whatever this was wasn't real.

She was terrified.

"You brats, I'll start with you," he said. "You wished to speak to me, yes?"

The girl nodded, tears staining the concrete surface below her.

"I'll grant you a fingers worth of audience. Now speak."

"Below us there's a man in monk's robes with a suture across his forehead," the dirty blonde began to say. "Please kill him, please free Geto-sama."

(Y/N) recognized that name, although she thought the man who had it was dead.

"We know the location of one more finger," the girl added. "If you'll kill that man for us, we'll tell you where it is."

"Raise your heads."

(Y/N) still kept hers down, although she could see the two girls raise theirs through her peripheral. It was a moment of relief, as he seemed to have agreed to their terms.

Red.

The head of the brown haired one next to her burst into nothingness, blood coating the other girls face as her corpse fell backward.

(Y/N) felt it splatter onto her uniform, shock pulsating through her veins as terror overrided her senses.

"MIMIKO!" the blonde screamed, shaking the lifeless body next to her.

"Did you think a measly one or two fingers would grant you the right to order me around?" Sukuna asked with amusement in his voice.

It seemed the girl couldn't care less, continuing to scream out her friends name.

"How offensive."

"SUKUNA!" she cried out in anger, slipping out her phone. "DIE!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, it sounded like a blade had cut through something. Similar to the one she heard months ago, when he had saved her.

Then, it sounded like several cuts going at someone at once.

One corpse turned into two, except the blonde had no remains. He killed the both of them without lifting a finger, a copious amount of blood being the only proof.

"You all are desperate," Sukuna turned to Jogo almost knowingly.

(Y/N) felt the invisible hands that once held onto her gently guide her to sit up again, looking at the King of Curses.

"This is the reward for the cursed fingers, come at her," he said, making eye contact with her. "If you manage to land even a single blow on her, I'll work under you all."

"What?" (Y/N) said under her breath, she felt like she couldn't breath.

Jogo slowly looked at her, as if he was making up his mind.

There was no way he was considering this.

"You're true to your word, yes?" he asked Sukuna.

No.

(Y/N) stepped back, like her legs were going to come out from under her at any second.

This was suicide, she couldn't fight him.

"Yes."

Jogos demeaner changed, as Sukuna's hands remained on his pockets and the curse went to face her. He held out his hand, a ball of fire forming within it, as (Y/N) tried to conjure ice in her own.

Again she was airborne.

Too quick for her to react as it all happened at once.

A familiar pair of arms held her bridal style, as she felt herself rest on his chest. It was cold, the fall wind curling around the two as they had fled the building.

He casually dodged them vast amount of fire-charged bullets being sent at him, as he looked down at her.

"Your avoidance has been quite amusing, I see you don't understand yet," Sukuna said, his tone changing into a softer one.

"What have you been doing to me?" she spoke boldly, like a wife would to her husband.

It made him smile, as he leaned on the edge of a building that Jogo shot more bullets at. Soon enough they were inside of it, Sukuna casually walking through a corridor as fire burned around them.

"That's my thank you for ensuring you sleep well?" he spoke teasingly. "I've been restoring your memories, although I knew you would doubt them to the best of your ability."

"They're not real," she mumbled, forgetting what he was capable of.

"And yet how relaxed you are in my hold says otherwise, little one," he said. "Your body reacts naturally to my touch."

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reply but the words never came out, as he jumped through the window of the building and met Jogo's fist. Sukuna was currently holding her securely with one arm, taking up the curse in hand to hand combat. He was quick, catching every single one of Jogo's attempts before holding onto his hand and slicing through his arms with his cleave technique.

The Special Grade was sent flying back, as he shot another beam of fire energy out of his head and (Y/N) watched it blow a whole through a building.

She had never seen a fight like this before.

Sukuna caught up with Jogo, taking his free hand that wasn't carrying her and wrapping it around his cape, throwing him down towards the streets. Smoke emitted from the area that he hit, as he continued to bounce off of it from the force before Sukuna came at him again. This time, he bashed his head into the ground, taking them below the level of the city floor.

She felt the King of Curses abdomen tighten against her side, as he laughed to himself. (Y/N) wasn't looking at him though, as her eyes were on the curse that hadn't landed even a single speck of dust on her.

His free hand slipped underneath her jaw, turning her head to face him.

"Impressed are we?"

Suddenly everything around the two seemed to burst into flames, as the blue skinned curse screamed out and flooded the street with Lava.

This was hell.

Sukuna didn't even react, as a wave of it blanketed over them, yet never touching their skin. He jumped up onto a building that was soon crumbling underneath the hot liquid as well, continuing to dodge without question.

The entire city was on fire, as hands made out of lava held onto two office buildings and lifted them up out of the ground. They surrounded the both of them, Jogo standing on a rooftop in front.

(Y/N) thought she was dead.

Out of pure instinct she took her arm around Sukuna's neck, burying her head into his chest and squinting her eyes closed.

It was only when she heard the sound of the buildings being bashed together, that she realized what she had done. Instead of feeling the impact of her skull being crushed, she felt a delicate kiss be pressed to the top of her head. A large hand then held her hair in a comforting manner, keeping her against him.

"Do you trust me, little one?" he asked her softly, low enough that Jogo couldn't hear.

"Yes."

(Y/N) felt weightless, like she was on one of those amusement park rides that threw you up into the air. Except for the fact that there was no harness, and nothing holding her anymore. Sukuna had thrown her up so far she felt she might touch the clouds, watching his figure dart towards the curse and throw him into a sky scraper.

She could see Jogo come out the other end of it, soaring through the air as Sukuna stood above him. The King of Curses drove his hand into the Special Grades head, sending the two through a roof of another office structure.

Meanwhile (Y/N) began to descend, screaming out and watching as the windows on each level shattered with each level Sukuna shoved him through. She grew anxious as time passed and nothing happened, until the bottom of the building burst out into flames and traveled upwards. She could make out the smaller details of the city now, as she picked up speed in falling and felt the wind course through her clothes. Her best bet was trying to use her ice to impact the fall, although she became distracted by what happened before her.

The building that Jogo had blown up began to form into a ball of fire, and Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

Or so she thought.

She was trying to conjure up enough cold air around her to form the ice needed to brace her, but knocked into something else, throwing her off guard.

She wasn't surprised when she felt his heartbeat against her side again, but he moved at unregistrable speeds.

Suddenly they were on the ground, in the middle of the street, underneath the meteor Jogo was creating. All of the people around Sukuna froze in place, fear evident in their eyes.

Everyone knew who he was.

"I hereby forbid every person in a 100-meter radius from moving until I say 'now," he started. "And of course, I'll kill anyone who violates that rule."

The silence was horrifying, no one daring to take a step.

"Not yet," he teased.

(Y/N) could feel his hands underneath her weight doing something, as if he was now controlling the ball of fire above them.

"Still not yet."

The ground began to tremble, as it came closer.

"Now."

The sound was overwhelming, as Sukuna brought himself up above it as it crushed everything beneath. He sat down on the meteor, adjusting (Y/N) so she was sitting in his lap, his hands around her waist. Jogo was in front of the two, having yet to turn his back around.

The atmosphere around them was a swirl of orange smoke and broken glass that looked like stars. It floated gently in the air, as more debris from the architecture around them crumbled.

"I've grown tired of this, so I will fight you with your own specialty," he said, allowing for (Y/N) to get up as he stood and faced the Special Grade.

She stepped back, quick to cool the temperatures underneath her feet so she wouldn't burn.

Fire began to emit from his fist, beginning to curl around his figure.

"Arm yourself."

Jogo formed a small sphere of fire in his hand, as Sukuna stretched his own out to form an arrow.

The Special Grade burnt to ashes within a moments notice, while the King of Curses turned around to face the woman behind him.

"Your denial is in vain," he said. "There is nothing I am not capable of, and your death would have already occurred if i wished for it. In your moments of fear you trusted me by instinct, the vow formed between us guiding you to me."

"I don't understand."

"Because you don't want to," he corrected, coming closer to her. "Allow me to show you."

The king lifted her jaw up, taking his hand around the side of her face and kissing her lips.

It felt unworldly, as she slowly returned it and could feel him smiling. Her wrist suddenly tingled, making her to break away to see what caused the sensation.

It was a mark on her wrist, the same one that was on Sukuna's forehead.

"I will love you in every era," he said, taking a step back.

The markings on his face faded, his hair returning to hanging down.

"What happened?" Itadori asked.

She looked into the eyes underneath the original pair, not knowing what to say.

But she understood now.

A/N: I have a part 3 in mind. If you're interested let me know!

Tag List: @daydreamshenanigans @witchmoon10 @@spiderlilytengu @sircatchungus @sunshine7queen @yandere-consumer @emryb @96jnie @frogzxch @toshirolovebot @rottinginvelvet @rorel1a @cax-per @butteredwalnut @sweetcoorpse @mynewblackdress @serafina-nyx @karmazwrld @gambighoul @honestlysublimecherryblossom @sy557 @mag-chan

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 20

Prompt: Aphrodisiac Pairing: roommate!Wooyoung x fem!reader WC: 5.4k Summary: Someone needs to put a parental block on Wooyoung’s browser. Or cut his credit card. (A part 2 to Feb.Filth.Fest)

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: I would classify this as dubcon as TECHNICALLY the reader is under the influence unknowingly of said aphrodisiac. Everyone in this is having a good fun time and it is merely a catalyst but still, I feel that needs to be a warning itself. Additional warnings are: bodily fluids, so much unprotected fucking, lots of pet names and degrading names used both towards reader and wooyoung (most obnoxious is the amount I’ve chosen to use “Wooyoungie” so be warned). reader body parts described as fem, also addressed as “girl” a couple of times. Mostly just plain ol’ sloppy sex.

 Wooyoung barely peaks over the edge of his phone screen as he hears the slap of a bag against the coffee table.  “Jung Wooyoung-”  “OOoh using my full name today are we?”  “JUNG WOOYOUNG,” you start again, louder and angrier. “After last time you really think another bag of these godforsaken things was a smart investment to spend your refund on?”  Wooyoung fights the tug of a sly grin forming at the corners of his mouth. “What about that wasn’t a good time? You seemed to have a good time.”  Sucking your teeth you glare at him. “Something about walking in on my roommate coated in his own cum soaked boxers, babbling about how he was dying, left a sour impression on me. Could you imagine that?”  “Hot,” he gives into the grin, a small puff of a chuckled exhale escaping his nose.  You roll your eyes, “you’re a fucking gremlin. Get rid of them, in the trash or give them to your friends. I’d say get rid of them however you want but-” you see his eyes twinkle mischievously and you nod. “Exactly. So, trash or friends. Not food for Wooyoungie. Not again.”

 To his credit, the bag disappears the next day, almost as though it’s evaporated into thin air, and the whole threat of a repeat incident starts to slip your mind. It’s completely forgotten as you haphazardly plunder Wooyoung’s side of the cupboards looking for an afternoon snack. Several weeks of aspirational grocery shopping left your side of the cupboard bare of easy dopamine hits. So when the 4pm slump came around, each week it got harder and hard to fight. That’s how you found yourself digging through his stash of popcorn and gummies of all shapes and sours. A desperate measure for a desperate person. That’s when your fingers brush against a small twisted up bag of half melted gummies seemingly forgotten at the back of the stash. Surely Wooyoung had forgotten about them, the lump of coagulated colors meshing into a mystery kaleidoscope of flavor.

 You try to only eat a few but the way they’re melted together and their sweet fruity floral flavor you end up finishing the bag mindlessly. Which is only a problem for the theoretical goal of eating less sugar. Not a real problem, a pretend problem. Luckily it provides just the buzz of sugar and serotonin to propel you through the last hours of your day.

 As you type your toes tap. Must’ve been some preworkout gummies, jitters passing through you like caffeine. Your stomach twists but it’s just about 5pm and you’re almost done with your essay so you power through, blinking to force your focus. You can barely tell how you’re twisting in your seat, thighs plastered together as you start to sweat.

 When did it get so warm? You try to breathe deeply to release the tension in your chest. Why did it feel like you were going to explode, as though you’d forgotten to breathe? Mouth dry, your gut burns and twists. It’s almost like you need to use the bathroom, almost. But you’re so thirsty. There’s no way you need to use the bathroom, you’re parched.  The whole apartment smells like Wooyoung. Like warm soil and vanilla and musk. In your time as friends and apartment mates it’s grown comforting and safe. It’s like an easy spring day cuddled up to a lover. What you wouldn’t give for one of those now. Cuddling and pressing together, just cold enough that keeping as tight to each other as possible was the best way to fight the elements. How nice it would be to put your nose in the crook of Wooyoung’s collar and breathe him in, scent mixing into the wool.  No. No more of that. Your core aches in need. No more daydreaming, especially about that brat. None.  Chugging a glass of water in the kitchen you’re still insatiable, toes tapping against the linoleum anxiously. When would Wooyoung be home? Do you have time for a quick moment alone? You hadn’t had that sort of “me” time in a bit so maybe that would help. Without thinking too much of it your shove your hand in your pants, fingers gliding between your folds. You’re already soaking through your underwear as you rub against your clit. It takes maybe a minute before you’re leaning into the side of the counter, knees knocking together as you cum. It feels good but another would feel even better.

 The apartment smells like that day, or the aftermath of that day, as Wooyoung swings the door open. Floral with a raw musky edge pervading the air. The faint electrical buzz of something vibrating perking his ears.  “Wooyoung,” you whine, still hidden from his view. “Wooyoung you didn’t throw them out.”  Instead of going straight to you, to the living room, or even to his room, Wooyoung goes to the kitchen trash, an empty plastic bag sitting on the counter. “You’ve been raiding my snacks I see.”  “You didn’t throw them out,” you whine again, tone tilting up into a hushed gasp. “You told me you did!”

 Your face is stained with sweat and tears, slightly swollen lips from biting down on them. He’s sure you don’t even notice the subtle rocking motion your pelvis makes as your thighs rub together. But he notices.  “You look desperate,” he notes aloud, eyes flickering dangerously. “I must’ve looked worse.”  The cocky smile that you’d usually be so eager to strip from his face sends a shudder through your body. The fact is, he looks like he might eat you whole and you would’ve mind that in the least. Fucking betrayed by your cunt which throbs unapologetically at the passing thought. His eyes flicker again, a knowing flicker, as your cheeks burn. If your embarrassment could generate energy there would be enough to light a city block for a day. He knows. It’s only a matter of time now.  “Can you not be like this?” You whine, fingers gripping the edge of the couch. It’s closer now than ever as you lean forward, just a little bit more pressure. Just a little bit more.

 Wooyoung cocks his head, letting the motion lead him to turn on his heel and drift into the hallway. “Not sure what you mean.”  A fresh wave of arousal floods your thighs. Insolent brat. “You fucking know what I mean.”  “You’re right, I do, I do know exactly what you mean. I’m just waiting for you to say it.” He smiles that foxy grin again. You forcefully squeeze your eyelids shut, as if he couldn’t see you if you couldn’t see him. “Did you just cum? How many times have you?”  Shame burns your cheeks. “You don’t know that.”

 “We’ve fucked of course I know what you look like when you cum.” He sounds sickeningly proud of this. Proud of being one of the few and mighty to know.  “Pervert,” your nose wrinkles and you squeeze your eyelids tighter.  “Says the one who just made herself cum in the living room while her roommate stood there. You didn’t even ask if you could. If I’d even want you to. You needed to get off that badly didn’t you? I know. I know because I did it too. I remember.”  Despite having just cum, your heart is racing. Wiggling your toes you can feel the excess energy pouring off of you. It’s uncomfortably warm. This is your penance. You want to use Wooyoung’s thigh, muscular and sturdy. Just hump the shit out of it while he sucks hickeys in your chest. The thought consumes you, the memory of the sweet little hums of satisfaction he’d made as he-  “Wooyoung!” You yelp, eyes snapping open and brimming with tears. “You have to go. You have to, I can't control it. I really can’t. Wooyoung I can’t let this happen to us again.” You’re practically begging as you feel the knife of lust twist tighter in your gut. Folding over, you shift your legs just enough to provide pressure to your throbbing core, a moan of relief wracking your body. It’s pathetic, you’re pathetic.

 It takes only a couple strides for him to close the gap between himself and the couch. Again was all he’d been wishing for since that day. Wooyoung slips in behind you, propping your back against his chest as you sob. “Do you want me to help you out, I know how,” he suggests as his fingers trace the seam of your pants up your inner thigh. Your hips buck up with a whimper.  “No, I’m fine,” you sniff.  “No? You and I both know the quickest way to get this problem solved.”  His hands splay across the fronts of your thighs, inching slowly towards the hem of your shirt. A trickle of sweat beads at your brow. The room is too hot for this closeness. Too hot for how dressed you both are. You’re burning up in this embrace but you like it, you need it. He smells so much like him and only him. Even if you purchased a bottle of the same cologne you could never replicate it. Warm and comforting and earthy. Your head tips back to his shoulder as you follow your nose to the side of his neck subconsciously.  “You must be in a lot of pain,” he coos with an air of condescension. “I know you are because I remember. You probably don’t even realize how hard your ass is pressing into my cock but I can tell you, it’s enough to leave an impression.”  “Wooyoung,” you whine again huffing as you divert all your mental energy to stilling your hips. “It’s your fault! You can’t make fun of me. You can’t tell anyone. I-I-” your lower lip trembles, breathing hard. His hand barely ghosts over your lower belly and you shake, cumming unceremoniously the instant he brushes over your mound.  You can feel the mixture of his lips and teeth and the condensation of his breath as he whispers against your ear. “Someone was in my bed earlier. Now unless you let someone in and they took a nap, there’s really only one other person that could’ve been.” Slowly his nails catch on the ridges of the denim fabric, almost plucking like a string as he strokes the rest of the way up the seam.  Moaning you bury your face as deep as you can in the side of his neck, practically drooling as your head swims with his scent. It sinks into your stomach and satiates a bit of the hunger gnawing at your insides. “Sorry,” you bleat suddenly, half muffled by him. He can feel your thighs quake as you cum again.  “Can you tell me why you were in my bed? Or did you get lost on the way to yours?”  “Smelled so good. You smell so good. Had to. Had to while I- god damn it Wooyoung. You know. Of all people. You know!” Your throat tenses, voice cracking hideously. You had gone in his room. Into his bed. You’d put your nose right into the mattress with you ass up in the air as you’d finger fucked yourself to completion, all the while inhaling the unwashed unadulterated scent of your roommate. What was worse is that you’d never cum harder or felt better.  “I promise you it’s much easier if you give in. I know you like a fight but you’re about to shake your skin off the bones.”  You sniffle. You hate how right he is. You hate how much you want him to make you cum. You hate that you can’t just be relaxed and calm and collected and cool about it. Sometimes best friends fuck, it can be that simple. It’s not that simple though, you think as your entire body flashes hot and shakes in his arms. “Wooyoung,” you whine again, twisting to face him and straddling his lap. “Do you mean it?”  Tenderly he swipes your sweat matted hair from the sides of your face and kisses your cheek. He kisses everyone’s cheeks, you remind yourself before you let your heart flutter too hard at the small action. “I’m your best friend, babe. It would be my pleasure, whenever you’re ready.”  God damn it Wooyoung, you swear internally. You’d almost rather his almost combative side than the gentle care he is giving you now. It’s less dangerous to you. You can write that off easier. Both of your foreheads meet, his lips hang loosely open, somehow plumper when you’re looking down from on top of him. From here you can see the mole on his lower lip even clearer. “You don’t say shit about this to any of our friends,” you hiss in his ear, tugging his head back by his hair. You can’t afford for him to do anything unexpected. Not right now. “No one knows about this. None. Got it?”  He chuckles, adams apple bobbing in his neck. “Still fighting?” He looks delicious, smirking under you like this. You could eat him right up. “Even when you’re humping me like horny teenager, you still want to pretend like you have this all under control.” You look down, your hips betraying you as you grind on the growing lump in his pants. It’s not like you can feel much through the fabric of your jeans, it’s embarrassing that despite this you still do it. Wooyoung’s hands rest in the juncture of your hip and thigh, subtly encouraging the action with the slight press of his finger tips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”  You shudder, fingers flexing and tugging at his hair. His eyes roll back with a half pain half pleasure moan. He sounds just like you remember, like you’ve been trying not to remember. Flush with the heat of arousal, your eyes lock on his. “Help. It’s your fault, help me.”

 Strength surges in Wooyoung, lifting up from the couch, carrying you with your legs locked around his waist. The warm earthy vanilla smell grows as he walks down the hall into his bedroom, tossing you onto his already defiled bed, shoving aside the toys you’d forgotten in your lust induced haze. Closing your eyes, you ball the sheets in your hands and shove the scent soaked cotton into your face. The familiarity calms your raging libido just as you feel the weight of Wooyoung sinking into the mattress.

 “I’m going to take care of you, okay?” His fox-like eyes peek up at you from below. “Can’t believe you ate them all. ‘M not going to be able to cum as much as you can.” He tugs your jeans down from your hips, followed swiftly by your underwear, nearly completely soaked with sweat and release. He doesn’t give you enough time to become embarrassed, splayed out in front of him as you are. Propping your legs back further, his lips wrap over your slit, licking into you messily. The strong flick of his tongue has your legs shaking, cumming easily on his lips.  ‘So sensitive,’ he giggles, kissing the inside of your thigh.  “It’s your fault,” you slur, head lolled back into the mattress. “Fucking gummies.”  “Yeah that’s their point. Fucking.” He slurps at you again. “God you taste good.” Lick. “Thought you weren’t as messy as I was-” Slurp. “-but you’re dripping all the way down to your thighs.”  “Nooo,” you whine and cover your face in embarrassment, knees knocking into his head gently.  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Wooyoung slurps again, this time his lips locking over the sensitive skin of your thigh and sucking a pink welt into it. A welt that only the two of you would ever see or know about. The thought excites him, erection pressed hard to the fabric of his underwear.  He’s eager and attentive and the sounds that fill the room are appropriately lewd to match. He drinks you like a man at an oasis, appreciatively humming, lips buzzing with sympathetic vibrations. Slipping two fingers into you, you cum again easily, just happy to have resistance to your spasms.  “Now just imagine if you’d left some for me,” he laughs, wiping his lips on the back of his arm. The tip of his nose glitters as do his eyes.  “You came so much last time,” you pant. His help has relieved some of the tension, or at least your hand wasn’t cramping. “-so full-so much-”  “You think you haven’t?” He laughs again, grabbing your waist and suddenly flipping you like a ragdoll. As if to make a point he pulls your hips up, dragging your front into the mattress, and pushes his full length in. You groan as the tip presses into your cervix snugly, his hips flush to the curve of your ass. His hands grip your ass, spreading you open as he slowly rolls his hips into you. “Cute little pussy seems to like me more than you do. Taking me in so nicely,” he says through gritted teeth.  Face mashed into the sheets you drool, the debauched position has you seeing stars. Almost helpless with your arms pinned below you and your ass in the air the wondrous fog of lust drapes over your inhibitions. “Cum, please, need-” you mutter, muffled by the blankets. “Need it, need you-” you chant over and over, tunneled in on the one request. Feel him cum, feel the warm release pulse and coat you inside.  “Yeah babe, I think you waited long enough for this,” he says, hands pressing into the small of your back as his hips snap faster. “I know you need it real bad. Gonna take it like a good slut for me?”  “Please.” Your earnest cries catch in the damp cotton. Blurry relief and endorphins wash over you as you clench around him. Desperate to milk him dry you slam yourself backwards. His rhythm catches and falters, fingers squishing into your flesh as he cums deep inside. The first splash of release feels euphoric, your legs giving up, leaving Wooyoung to hold your hips steady. He pulls back and rams deep again gasping and panting as he pushes himself even deeper, trying to mold you to his shape.

 Wooyoung lets you slip sideways onto the bed, cum dribbling down your thighs. “Does it feel better?” A warm towel presses to your sex.  Want burrows deep in your gut. Shamefully you remain silent. You want to tell him yes but you can’t. You need more. The craving burns worse than hunger or thirst. You hear the clink of ice cubes in a glass and open your eyes.  “You’ve lost a lot of water.” A statement of fact. Lost a lot of water to cumming. You sniff and sip the cool liquid. It doesn’t satiate you. Toes wiggling with anxious energy you try to focus on the feeling of the glass in your hand, the weight, the ridges.  “When can you go again?” Your voice sounds haunted and hoarse.  Wooyoung nods. “I thought you might- it’s gonna-” he hesitates as you rise from the sheets like a woman possessed.  “Can you just-can I just-” you start to pull him down into your arms, grinding down on his half hard cock. He winces and gasps,  “I really can’t yet babe. I promise, just a second,” kissing the side of your neck as he untangles himself and reaches over the side of the bed. “I got a friend to help with this predicament.” Like a rabbit from a magicians hat he pulls your wand vibrator up into the air. All white, large domed head tilted ever so slightly from years of usage. With a click the vibrator whirrs to life in his hand as he touches it to your mound.  You half groan half sob, “-but-need cum.” Your body shakes and thrashes as he presses more insistently. Your orgasm hurts as you clench down on nothing with a sob. Unnatural hunger claws at your chest and stomach, you feel blinded despite fully being able to see. Wave after wave crests over you as if it could overtake you but you’re parched enough to drink the ocean.  “God you look so beautiful fucked out like this,” Wooyoung watches your rapture with delight. Eyes rolling back you look like a renaissance era angel with your hair strewn out and mouth agape.  You barely breathe as you spasm below him, coming back from your experience gasping. “I need-fuck me-fuckme-please-Wooyoung,” oversensitive, you scramble backwards to get away from the whirring implement. A single click and silence fills the room, the only sound is the soft creak of the bedframe as he shuffles between your thighs.  Wooyoung holds the glass of water to your lips, “drink a little more for me.” Guiding the glass back he watches carefully as you sip down even the tiniest bit more. “Would it help if i took an ice cube in my mouth and trailed it down your body?  Dick in hand Wooyoung leans over you, feeding his length to your wanting walls. The aching empty is replaced by the comfort of fullness. It was meant to be like this. Just like this. Full of him in every way. His cock pushes his own seed from you as he thrusts, coating his length in a ring of bodily fluids.  “I want you to cum a couple more times for me, okay? Because I won’t be able to do as much as you.” The telltale buzz of your vibrator coming to life in his hand fills the void of sound. “Just let go.”  “But-cum-” you plead again like a broken record.  Long slow strokes bounce your hips back on his. “I know babe, I know,” his voice drips with false empathy. Lowering the buzzing head to your clit the shockwave is intense, your hips bucking upwards, fucking him deeper into you.  “Wooyoungie,” your voice shakes with your body. “Wooyoungie.”  Your back bows painfully as the top of your head presses into his mattress. You don’t have time to tell him further, to warn him. The euphoria you breach is like none other, your essence floods around him coating the both of you and the sheets. Wet and messy relief washes hot over you, melting what’s left of your mind.  Wooyoung’s eyes roll back, pinching his thigh to keep himself from spilling into you too soon. Even though you’d welcome it, you need it, selfishly he wants this to last. He wants to see you vulnerable and needy for him like he was for you.  To your credit, or your bodies credit, you work him like a pro, hips swiveling and grinding eagerly as you whine. “Wooyoungie please. Please I’ve been so good. Please it hurts so much. Please fill me. I need it. I need you.”  “Oh darling I love when you beg me,” he coos through gritted teeth, refusing to give in as you sob lightly. “You’ve got to work a little harder for it.”  “Wooyoung please, please,” you chant as you arch your hips up, trying to fuck yourself on him as best you can from below. Grunting and groaning in frustration. “It’s not fair,” you bemoan as he chuckles at you. “Can’t, from this angle,” you whine.  Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow at you, hips remaining stone still. “Are you gonna do something about it babe?”  With a huff you push him to his back, cock slipping from you as he settles in the bed. “You fucking asked for it. You asked for it, you dumb bastard.” You spit and swear as you settle back on his cock.  He hisses as he watching himself disappear between your thighs, your hands pressing into his chest as you sit on your throne. Claiming him. His head spins. “I didn’t ask for anything-oh shit.”  Your hips slam down on him with a vengeance. Grinding yourself on him, gasping and moaning as you use him like nothing more than a living dildo. “Loud mouth, only thing you’re good for is cum, not even-not even-shit-” you quickly lose your train of thought to another roll upwards of his hips. Bridging from his thighs he bounces you as your head rolls back, watching your breasts jiggle with the tug of gravity. You almost fall forward as he settles back down, furiously swiveling your hips back and forth over his lower abdomen. Gulping air you shudder and groan. “Going to fucking use you.”  “I like when you use me, pretty girl,” he laughs as his hands run up your front, thumb pressing between your lips. Salty and musky you lap and suck at what’s given to you as if it was your last meal.  “Seems your loud mouth is good for something.”  Carnal is the only way to describe the fire burning in your veins as Wooyoung’s hands travel your body with wonder. His hair halo’d around his head, veins in his neck protruding as he presses back into the pillow. Swearing and groping he tries to steady himself as his hips kick up, abs tensing.  “Gonna-oh shit-gonna-” he stutters. He can barely talk as he pulls all his focus to not cumming just yet. You’re so close, hips losing some coordination for the sake of speed, and he can’t let himself lose control before you do. Grunting in frustration he grits his teeth, grabbing your ass and steadying you over him. Biceps flexing and almost pinning you he grinds up into you, pressure building between his body and your clit. Your eyelids flutter and mouth falls. He’s doing a good job.  “Oh fuck-Woo-oh-” words catch in your throat, pulse dropping to your sex. The gentle pulsing squeeze of your walls draws your well earned reward from him. His release coats and spills out as you huddle over his chest, going in and out of consciousness, refractory shockwaves coursing through you.

 You wake first, his head rests on your soft stomach, bobbing with each inhalation. His hand is still intertwined with yours, both of you sticky from the day’s escapades. It must be well past dinner as your stomach churns with hunger. You have no concept of how you’d gotten here but likely in large part due to his care.  “Feelin’ be’er?” Wooyoung slurs, his thumb slightly stroking yours.  “Hungry,” you groan.  Wooyoung cackles, “it was a lot of energy, need fuel I’m sure.” His fingers escape yours, traveling the juncture of your hip and thigh. Everything still feels hazy but at least it’s quiet. “Are you settled? You good?”  He sounds almost hesitant, it tugs at your heart unexpectedly. You don’t really want it to be over but it is over. The burning subsided.  “I think I need-” you mutter sheepishly.  “-one more?” He finishes your statement with a question, perking his head up. “I think, maybe, I’m definitely running low but-” he babbles even as he’s pressing himself between your thighs. “If you need me to-”  “-if it’s really too much I can-” you start to babble back to him as his lips meeting your navel, leaving you squirming and gasping.  “-it really seems like you still might be dealing with some residual effects. You’re being too nice to me.” Wooyoung is already scooping his arms underneath your torso, hands wrapping up and over your shoulders as he pushes himself easily into you again. It feels like home, warm, cozy.  Eyes rolling back you sigh contentedly. The slip of the remnants of cum lessen the drag of his member but still the indescribable completeness leaves you breathless. Not much is said between you, deep unfettered groans escape muffled into eachothers shoulders. As frenetic and messy and animalistic as each previous session had been, this one was equally as tender.  Wooyoung’s loose lips want to spill confessions of love and desire. Fucking you as if the deeper he reached the more you’d be convinced of his love until his cock brushes your cervix.  You groan and curl below him.  “Too much?”  “Just stay a minute, let me,” you hook your legs over his and plant them into the mattress. Slowly you wind your hips, round and around. The gnawing hunger claims your gut again but this time, this time it isn’t a gummy or a drug pulling a trick. Eyes rolling back you groan again as you grind your clit against his pelvis.  “That’s my girl,” he murmurs almost as an afterthought. The words fall from him easily, unintentionally, and yet leave you gasping as you tip over the edge. Clawing at his back, unbothered by the potential to leave a mark. You almost hope you do, in case he was thinking of going out any time soon, so the next bitch knew someone had been there.  Panting he leans back and away from you, onto his haunches, hips still slowly and shallowly rocking into you. A smirk forms as he surveys the damage. “That good?”  “Cocky bastard.”  His smirk turns to a full foxy grin, “she’s back to the sane I see? I guess I should just-” he pauses before pulling back even more threatening to pull completely from you  Before you can stop yourself, you’re clambering up towards his chest, pawing at his shoulders with a small whine as you sit yourself back on his length. “You’re an ass.”  “You love me,” he says as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. God damn it he’s right, but you won’t admit that. Instead you reciprocate the bend of his head, burying your nose in his neck. Sitting in his lap and rocking with your limbs tangled it’s a different speed than your frantic needy drug induced fucking. More sliding and writhing. Wetter as well, sweat and spit and cum layered from previous rounds. Clingy and breathless. Falling and molding into each other as though two bodies could mesh into one if they simply tried hard enough.  Wooyoung litters your body with kisses for fear his unbusied lips will spill pillowtop confessions. His body aches from overstimulation but still his promise to take care of you drives him forward. The burn in his gut clenches his jaw as it sears down his legs. Slowly he works his mouth all the way down to your breast, arms cradled in the arch of your back as his tongue laves across your nipple. His cock throbs painfully as your walls clench in response.  Unaided by the magic of the gummies you start to break down yourself. Sex burning to the point of numbness you can barely summon the effort to even do the minimal rutting and rocking you have been.  “You can give me one more, right?” You groan out.  His hair tickles you as he nods a yes, lips tingling on you as he moans.  “You’re so so good Wooyoungie. You’ve been so good to me. Use me however you need.”  Wooyoung doesn’t need as much as he wants. Wants you to feel his love. He moves without a second prompting, tumbling the two of you backwards and hoisting your legs up into your chest. His hips pummel yours as he puts all his focus into chasing his high. You no longer whine or moan, you grunt with air forced out with each powerful thrust. The light behind your eyelids burns black as your head swims. Shaking in his grasp the constant squeeze of your desperate cunt spurs him forward. He has to cum. For you, he has to. Even through the searing pain in his inner thighs, you asked him to. He wants to. Lower lip jutting out in concentration, his mouth starts moving without his focus to stop it.  “Fuck, I love you,” he blurts, a weak dribble of cum splashing against your walls. Fingers digging into your ass and the side of your thighs, you can feel his length pulse as his brow furrows and gasps. “I love you so much, fuck. Hurts. God damn it,” he reiterates as he falls forward between your thighs, crushing you chest to chest. “I love you,” he continues to mumble, spit soaking into the pillow pressed to his mouth.  In a bleary haze you pat his shoulder mutely. How can he be so strong and so frail at the same time? Even as he whines and confesses his undying love, your heart swells. You need rest, you need a shower even more. The list grows in your mind as it defogs, listening to him until all that’s left is his slow steady breathing.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“This is just a dream.” Your words came out in a tangled string, altogether as air being forced out of a balloon. You partially sagged as well, instinctively locked muscles loosening again after you’d realize there was another person next to you on the beach. 

She was beautiful, as always, with long silver-blonde hair  and violet eyes cut into a soft face. You froze for the briefest instant at the fact that her tall, Amazonian body was clothed, but dreams never followed the rules. 

With your arms out wide, you reached for the woman that had appeared beside you on the beach. “Right? Is it just a dream? L… like the ones before?”

You wanted it to be true. The swell of hope rose within you like the tide at your feet, but it was tainted by something that shook you and made your heart race.

The truth was like oil leaking through and into your bloodstream, sticking to your veins until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Until it made you feel sick and trapped inside your own skin. 

“Right?”

The serene expression on Eve’s face gave way and rendered her heartache. She looked at you with violet eyes gone glassy for a long, long moment. 

Eve shook her head slowly. “No.”

—

The realm-traversing portal opened up amidst rolling clouds without much fanfare. Lucifer’s eyes snapped shut as he was accosted by piercing white light on all sides when he stepped out of it. 

“Ugh.” The blond blinked rapidly, trying in vain to adjust to the shift from dark red to blinding light. “It’s like crashing into the sun...” 

Heaven’s gates came into focus. 

“… while it’s going supernova.” Lucifer finished, muttering as he took a moment to shake out his sleeves. 

He stayed in place, readjusting his clothes while his wings folded back behind him. Heaven loomed on the horizon, only a short walk away. A fact that was eroding the King’s resolve with each passing moment.

Lucifer swallowed, straightening his bow tie. 

He wanted to turn back. 

It had been many millennia since he’d stepped foot anywhere near what was once his home; and in spite of the time and the distance, Lucifer could feel dread creeping up on him. The memory of being pushed and plummeting down, down, down into fire and brimstone came to him as if it had happened yesterday. 

Lucifer glanced down, anticipating the rise of molten rock and plumes of smoke as he headed straight into the Earth’s core. 

He was still standing, hands shaking so hard that his apple cane was tapping against the slow yet merrily rolling clouds. 

      The former angel closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply to steel himself. 

This was for you. He needed to know that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

This was for you. 

He’d do anything for you. 

Another breath. Lucifer stepped out from behind the clouds and onto the golden path that led to you. Just a few feet away and the blond tried to keep his eyes level with the gate itself, purposefully avoiding the all-knowing symbol above. 

A very bored-looking angel was flicking through the pages of what Lucifer assumed to be a reservation list. He couldn’t quite put a name to the face, as unless St. Peter had dyed his hair and grown a good deal of scruff on his chin, this was someone totally new to the gig. 

      Lucifer grimaced, wondering if this was a boon or not. 

“Excuse me!” Lucifer called up. 

“Ah!” The angel squawked. “Oh! Shi-I mean—!”

He fumbled with the book, accidentally crumpling a page mid-flick. Lucifer waited, tapping his foot nervously while the gatekeeper pulled himself together. 

       Finally, he smacked both hands against the book, using it as leverage to lean over and get a better look at the new arrival. 

“My apologies! Welcome to He-H…” Pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks within the angel’s eyes upon catching sight of the newest ‘arrival’. 

‘Oh fuck, okay.’ Lucifer lamented, posture sinking as he readied himself for a shitstorm. 

       His wings stretched out once more, and Lucifer glided up as stealthily as possible. The angel reeled back upon his approach, horror-struck, while the blond met him face-to-face.

“Yes! Hello there Mmmm—”” Lucifer squinted at the name tag pinned to the angel’s chest. “Matthias! Wonderful to meet you! Unless we’ve met before, in which case I apologize! It’s been quite a while since I’ve been up rather than down. Heh.”

Matthias continued to stare, jaw practically hanging off his face. “Y-you—you’re-!”

Lucifer’s smile waned like a melting candle. He drummed his fingers against the table top and cleared his throat. 

“Right.” Lucifer continued. “So, anyway, I’m here just to say ‘hi’ to a very special someone, and I would be eternally grateful if you could help me out with that.” 

He waited a full minute, watching Matthias shake like a leaf. It left Lucifer torn between irritation and anxiety. 

“Look, I’m not here to make waves.” He tried again. “I’ve done that enough for an immortal lifetime! And you know that, clearly.”

He chuckled, pulling at his collar. “I’m not asking for much. If anything, I’m actually doing my due diligence as far as Heaven is concerned and what’s that you got there? Is that a flip phone? Didn’t know they made those anymore. Who’re you dialin-”

“PETER!” Matthias screeched into the dated device. Lucifer’s whole body flinched at the sheer volume. 

“Wait, no, no, no!” Lucifer panicked, arms flapping to regain Matthias’s attention. 

Matthias continued to rear back until he’d fallen off the podium, and he barely managed to remember his own wings before hitting the ground. 

“Peter!” He cried. “Come back! We have a situation here!”

“No we don’t!” Lucifer tried to butt in. “He’s being ridiculous Peter. Don’t listen to him!”

“You need to get back here now! No, now!” Matthias snapped the phone shut and kept aloft a good distance from the King of Hell. 

He then made the sign of the cross, of all things. 

“Stay back!” The angel yelped. “I’m warning you I-I-I’ve been abstinent for over a hundred years and it didn’t break me! Neither will you, foul Tempter!” 

Lucifer stopped, lips peeling back as if he’d just sucked a lemon. 

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that.” Lucifer said, floating closer. “Look, maybe you didn’t get what I was saying, I’m just—”

“I said stay back!” 

Lucifer groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fuck me for thinking Heaven learned to listen.”

—

You felt lighter as you made your way back into the cityscape of Heaven, although your heart was truly aching. 

     There was no use in staying hidden in the trees, but as you crossed back into the modernized version of paradise, you vowed to return. Unless Eve herself decided to make another reappearance and join the rest of her angelic peers. 

Speaking of which…

Wandering had led you back to the center of the town, and you noticed that it lacked an angel or two… hundred. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked the empty air. Not a soul stirred at your inquiry, but you stared at the cafe on your left. 

     The majority of cafe tables hadn’t been bussed. You peered at the plates of half-eaten pastries and teacups, noting that more than one was still full and steaming. 

“There you are!”

 The unmistakable voice of Emily put a stopper in your confusion. “Where have you been? I was so worried!”

The holy woman hovered before you, unable to stay still as her wings beat against the air frantically. You frowned.

“Hey Emily.” You responded slowly, your brain still picking up the inconsistencies. “Do you know where everyone is?”

The angel shook her head, staggering you as she instantly took your arm and plucked you from the ground like a flower. 

“Woah! Hold on, wait a second!” You choked on your own saliva in surprise. You struggled to pry her delicate hands off of you as you were dragged through the air. “Emily! What’re you doing?”

“You have to come quickly!” Emily exclaimed. 

“Let me go!” You demanded.

You gawked when she just sped up. Emily raced through the empty town center with you dangling behind her, until she had taken you out into the open air. The gate into Heaven rose above all else as you fast approached it. 

—

A crowd had amassed from the city pavilion to stand and watch, aghast at the scene before them. Some cowered in their places while others edged closer to whatever was happening on the other side of the gate. 

     People were still floating in as Emily rocketed toward the front. You had no choice but to follow her lead, windswept hair falling in your eyes and mouth. You spat as you were planted on solid foundation again, and jostled forward by a no less overwrought Emily. 

You parted your hair like curtains, expression already screwed up and twisted in anger. You looked up and over your shoulder at the angel nervously chewing on her lower lip. 

“Excuse my language but what the hell is going on?” You bit out. Ugh, hair still caught on your tongue. 

Emily didn’t deign to give you any answers beyond a hand raised, finger pointing ahead. Her gesture made you scoff, though you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

      The last thing you expected to see was a squad of angels in pastel blues and whites, brandishing technological spears at Lucifer fucking Morningstar. 

“Please, everyone, there’s absolutely no need for any of this!” Lucifer’s tone was an odd mix of disarming and pacifying. 

He was bowed over, arms held out in a bid for calm. It was only met with more hostility, as several of the spears pointed at him sizzled with visible electricity. 

“Spare us your lies, Serpent. And be gone.” One of the aggressors spoke, sporting a remarkably deep voice despite his youthful appearance. A chorus sounded behind the creature, shouts of ‘be gone’ and ‘back to hell’ resounding until the pounding of your heart drowned it all out. 

Your breath came up fast and shallow, the capacity to rationalize long gone at the sight of the Devil.         

     You’d just accepted the loss of him, had exposed the wound he had left behind in your soul to the open air and grieved the lesson it taught you. Death had parted you both and you had been preparing to accept it, no alternative left to contemplate. 

“Lou...”

Mouth open, you tried to formulate your thoughts into words. You were coming up short, voice cracking and striped like a dying animal. 

“Lucifer.” 

You went ramrod straight, electricity enveloping your sight. He staggered.

“LUCIFER!” 

Pain lanced through him, but Lucifer only had eyes for you. You, calling his name and racing forward to grapple with the bars of Heaven’s gate. You, beautiful and glowing and real again. 

The King stood up, gripping the spear that had made contact with him only moment’s ago and throwing it off. Gabriel fell to the wayside like a swatted fly, his squad of soldiers swarming around to try and right him. 

They might as well have ceased to exist as Lucifer moved toward you. Heaven ceased to exist altogether, as soon he was close enough to take your outstretched hands. 

“You’re here.” 

***

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @devilslittlebabyxx, @diffidentphantom, @shamblezzz, @ranposanedogawa, @minamilinaqueen, @1-helluva-hazbin

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Having The Same Abilities As Wolverine

Requested: Heyy! Can I request a the boys preference where reader is a supe who pretty much has wolverine's powers? Ty!! - @ghostlyaccurate

Requested: Hii can I request the boys pref x female wolverine? <33 - anon

A/N: Reminder my loves! Everything is written as gender neutral, I don't write specifically freader or mreader. I hope you like it! I am working 100% from Wolverines Wikipedia page lol since I forget most of his powers. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher finds your abilities both disgusting and impressive. Your super sight, smell, etc. are really helpful in certain situations. He jokingly calls you their own personal Tek Knight, which you shut down immediately. What's disgusting is when your claws come out, breaking through the skin of your knuckles. There's a lot of blood. There's a lot of pain even with your healing. And something about them just freaks him out. You jokingly try to poke him with them, touch him with them, and though he'd never admit it, he absolutely hates the feeling. There's just something wrong about them that he can't pinpoint or describe. They're helpful for sure and watching you use them is always gory, he'd just like for them to go away as quickly as possible.

Hughie finds you fascinating. The healing and the claws are always cool, but it's the fact that you're so much older than all of them, so much more experienced, and yet you age so little. Because you're body heals so well, you age at a slower rate than the rest of the world. While that's not totally new for Supes, he's always interested in hearing about your life. You have so much knowledge, so many more experiences, so many lives lived before this mess took over. You find it the least interesting part of your abilities, but Hughie's always had an appreciation for the underappreciated. He loves to listen to you talk about the past, what the world was like, what Vought and The Seven were like. It wasn't always this fucked, at least that's the conclusion he comes to as you talk. It was fucked, it was a mess, but the introduction of Homelander really set in stone this future.

Annie is your confidant. The healing factor has saved your and others lives countless times, but everyone forgets you can still feel pain. Long after your body has put itself back together, the phantom pain lingers. It's excruciating and, secretly, you live in fear of being torn apart. Days and weeks later, you move as if you're still broken. You'll wake up, confused for a moment, expecting to be torn limb from limb, before you come to your senses. Even your claws leave your hands raw, arthritic. You know Annie thinks about that more than anyone else. You told her one night about the pain and since then she's always been aware, quietly asking you if you're alright. Sometimes the pain goes away in a few hours, other times it takes weeks. It all depends on the severity. You try not to complain, knowing you must sound like a broken record, but she doesn't see it that way.

M.M., kind of like Butcher, is weirded out by your claws. He doesn't mind the healing or the heightened senses. For the most part, those things are hidden. It's the claws he gets the heebie jeebies from. You poke fun at him because of this. Out of all the Supe abilities you could have gotten, claws aren't the oddest thing you could have developed. He is reminded of Webweavers abilities and that puts things into perspective for a little while. He didn't trust you in the beginning. It was hard to show him you weren't just another Supe hopped up on V. You're a lot older than everyone, you've experienced more, you're wiser than he gives you credit for. He learns to trust you because of your level head. In situations where other people would be losing their shit, you're calm, cool, and collected. It isn't your abilities that make him befriend you, it's the person underneath them.

Frenchie both loves and hates your abilities. He finds your claws fascinating. Every time you use them he's left in awe. He loves watching you use them, the way you can hide them and bring them out when they're least expecting it. He doesn't find them weird or odd like his friends. They're amazing. He hates, though, that your heightened senses are basically a lie detector test he fails every time. You know when he's been drinking, smoking, getting high. You try not to make a big deal about it, but you do talk to him about it in private. You know when he's lying, though any non-Supe could figure it out when they learn all his tells. He's not as good as he thinks he is at lying. He's always amazed with your stamina, too. It's something a lot of people tend to overlook about your powers, but he doesn't.

Kimiko and you bond effortlessly. Your abilities are so similar and yet so different. Together you're a fantastic duo, unstoppable. She likes touching your claws, though hates the way they have to come out. She knows what it's like, to have to sacrifice yourself, your body, for the greater good. She knows what it's like to wake up confused and, for a moment, feeling as if you're missing parts of yourself. The two of you work together effortlessly and find a lot of humor in your abilities whereas everyone else sees a severed limb of broken bones, you can see just how silly the body is, how fragile and easily it both breaks and repairs itself. She loves your heightened senses and always tells her what you can find out: M.M. got a new chapstick (strawberry), Butcher ate something with peppers, Annie got Hughie a new cologne, etc.

[yzzart]

— 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You wouldn't leave Satoru facing a cold night alone.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, drabble, words a little explicit, comfort, mention of riko, kuroi and geto, a drop of angst, inspired by episode 3

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.780!

The cold, sharp, hard feel of the smooth floor surged through your feet; and mentally you berated yourself for not wearing your slippers, which were probably lying around the room.

A smug expression formed on your slightly sleeping face, and you nearly caught yourself in a groan. — But, in no way, would you go back to get them, after all, it's a crude and useless thing to gain your focus.

And, also, there was something far more important to focus your attention and dedication on.

With the vision, totally, heavy and sleepy, you started to direct yourself to the presence that was before and centered in your eyes. — It wasn't pitch black, or too dark for so much exaggeration; the light of the moon, which was on its full days, illuminated the calm, subtle and pleasant environment.

"You should be sleeping." — The heavy voice, in charge of tiredness, but denying itself in such a way, exclaimed in the place and in his ears. — And you would be lying, coldly, if you didn't claim that a shiver ran through your body.

At no time, or under any circumstances, did he need to turn or direct his eyes, in a fine way, to recognize you or observe your appearance; that's because he didn't need to. — The young sorcerer felt your presence, the moment you put your feet on the ground, in the same second.

"Satoru..." — Your voice came out weak, influenced by the sleep interrupted a while ago and not being able to hide the concern landing, perfectly, in the ears of the oldest.

His name was the only thing that came out of your mouth at that moment; and it was the only thing on your mind. — Satoru was awake, in a cold and full dawn, and it wasn't the first time he did that. — And it wouldn't be the last.

That not only worried you, it also bothered you; You felt your chest heave when you looked into his tired, overworked blue eyes. — At certain points, dark circles formed in the region close to his eyes and, with the luck of his glasses, which he made a point of hiding.

It was obvious that Kuroi and Riko could find something strange or question something, since that pair of glasses was a living part of Gojo; however, you and Geto knew what was actually happening.

Geto ended up, on his own, unraveling what was happening with Gojo in recent time; but, to be more specific, the young black-haired sorcerer put all the factors together today. — It was not difficult to listen to their conversation, which was brief, during the morning.

You hate the mediocre fact that you've snooped on someone's conversation. — Even more so when admitting such an act.

You moved your feet and walked towards Gojo's image; it seemed like with every step you took, a chilling shock coursed through your body. — You knew whether it was the cold feeling of the ground or Satoru's presence.

The answer was clear, direct and obvious. — It was him.

"Hmm?" — The white-haired boy, who was wearing an oddly flashy orange coat, grumbled when he saw you approaching. — He still kept the same clothes he spent the whole morning wearing, nothing changed; he didn't even close his coat against the winds.

However, his face was completely heavy, tired; along with his blank stare, but on the alert for everything, even a fly. — Satoru didn't know what it was to blink at that exact moment; he didn't know what it was, at least, to rest.

It wasn't the first time, let alone the last, that he would do this. — And you both know it.

"…and you should be there with me." — You replied, with a little rigor, with your repression and trying to stifle a yawn, but soon failing miserably. — "It's strange not to feel you trying to steal the blankets." — A clumsy, sleepy confession, however, causes a small, subtle laugh to escape Satoru's lips.

It wasn't just weird, it was more than that; it was something that I still didn't have the name in the language. — Discomfort? Affliction? Fear? Anguish? — You felt all of that at once.

"So is that a way of saying you can't sleep without me, my love?" — Gojo tried to soften the situation, at least a little. His voice was haggard, without much enthusiasm and charisma, which was rare to see in Satoru.

The blue eyes, which recall the sky and ward off any problems that haunted his mind, heavy but obliged to be aware of everything around, landed in your presence; who was now ahead of Gojo. — His glasses were a little droopy, so you finally get to see his bluish eye sockets.

"Understand it however you like." — A genuine smile, and a little shy, formed on your lips. — Satoru wasn't lying, or talking one more of his nonsense as usual; those words were indeed worthy of a truth.

A truth that also revealed one of his worst and greatest fears; not feel Gojo's presence next to your. — Not feeling the feel of his big body against your, not feeling his hands around you, not even feeling your legs pinning his to keep from getting off the bed. — Only, not feeling Satoru with you.

Perhaps, that might sound more selfish than it sounds; even more so because you are a jujutsu sorceress. — Along with the mission and oath to protect the weakest and those unaware of curses. — But, it was suffocating, a bit of torture, watching and witnessing all the cursed factors going on around you and knowing that you could be on the verge of failing everything and losing everything.

However, it is clear that in the jujutsu world one cannot get one's hopes up. — And that's something you haven't learned to deal with yet.

"We'll leave in the morning, i think you better go back to your room, little lady." — Satoru uttered with responsibility and reason, which was something he had at that moment; a very rare occasion. — "I don't want to hear your mumbling or having to carry you the whole way." — He raised one of his hands to his chin, as if he was thinking of something promising. — "Although i wouldn't complain, huh?"

"Eh? Shut up, idiot…" — You replied, unable to contain or interrupt a light and at the same time warm laugh.

Noticing that there was space left on the small sofa, where Satoru was sitting, you pass by the young man and don't wait or think twice, so you take comfort in the seat. — It wasn't as comfortable and fluffy, of course, as the bed in the room where you were staying, but it was better than standing all that time.

Suddenly, a cold but pleasant breeze, carrying the strong smell of the sea, passed by you. — You've never seen a night as cold as this one. — And, automatically, he put his legs together in the intention of trying to warm up and not go through those freezing seconds. — Maybe you were exaggerating, just maybe.

You took a deep breath, and prayed, mentally, that the night would pass quickly. — And finally, you guys go back to jujutsu school. — Your eyes tried to search, observe and admire something during that time to distract himself, intending to distance your thoughts about the present occurrences.

A surprising yawn escapes your lips, once again that night, and you feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier, unable to force them open but stubborn against it and trying, hard, to stay awake. — You didn't want to leave Gojo alone until dawn.

In a flash, you let your head rest on the tip of Satoru's shoulder; and with the fluffy and soft fabric of your coat, it doesn't make the situation so uncomfortable. — The word "discomfort" disappeared, bravely, from the world and from your mouth when he was close to Satoru. — It was as if all the curses, evils and badness in the world disappeared when his heavenly eyes met your or just saw his shadow.

Satoru was your home. — Where it made you feel safe and protected and loved.

And in such a comfortable and cozy situation, sleep, which had been accumulating for all that time, eventually caught up with you. — Your body relaxed, even though it wasn't in an appropriate position and that can cause certain pains in the morning, and all the thoughts that disturbed you so much had a chance to disappear.

Satoru wasn't scared, or bothered, of course, he would never bother with you or with any miserable thing you did; the sorcerer smiled. — But, it wasn't a common smile or the kind he lived in stamped on his face; it was a passionate smile, fascinated and alive. — A smile with a meaning he understood from the day you met.

Beneath his typical dark glasses, Satoru admired you with mixed feelings, but the feeling of passion struggled in the older man's chest; if he had the chance to steer you away from all the evil non-wizard and sorcerer reasons, he wouldn't think twice. — You were strong, he wouldn't deny that even if he had to walk over burning coals. But he cared about you, just like you cared about him.

Even though he didn't believe so faithfully in the talks and speeches about destiny, Satoru begged for the future not to be so heavy on you two. — He couldn't get his hopes up, that's what the jujutsu school insisted on, but Satoru was never one to follow rules or teachings.

With a slow movement, trying his best not to wake you, Satoru directed his large and thin hand in yours and, thus, holding it. — The size comparison between your hand and his always caught Gojo's attention. — Thin, cold and a little rough fingers began to intertwine with yours; Satoru, with just his thumb, made small, circular movements in the palm of your hand.

During his admiration, Gojo began to feel a grip on his hand and, soon, he understood that it was you. — You squeezed, lightly, Satoru's hand, as if you were dreaming or just instinct for the feeling, even not knowing what it was, in fact, he increased the smile that kept on his face.

"My angel." — He whispered, more to himself than to you; soon, Satoru directed his hand, which he was holding, to your thin and affectionate lips and leaving a lingering kiss under the soft and slightly warm region.

Only the gods, if they actually existed, knew how he wanted that moment to last forever. — Satoru would do anything, kill anything or anyone to keep that moment so intimate, so naive and cozy with you forever.

"My beautiful angel."

[hunterwritings]

𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 | 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍

summary: bi-han comes home wounded, trying his best to keep it from you warnings: mention of blood/laceration, stitching notes: i can only think of writing for bi-han rn 😭

You knew that Bi-han was hot-headed, ironically. You knew that he liked to fight and even though he would most likely win, he would still have battle scars.

It was something you expected, but never looked forward to. Bi-han has a problem being vulnerable and asking for help, so whenever he would get injured in battle he would do his best to hide it from you. Sometimes he'd get away with it and you'd eventually find out after the fact, but sometimes he's a bad liar.

It was the middle of the night when Bi-han stumbled into the temple, his brothers at his side. "Please brother, let us-" Tomas began before Bi-han shut him down. "I can deal with my own wounds." He beckons as he pushes them off and begins walking to your bedroom, holding a hand at his side. "He will be fine Tomas, the pain of us helping him would cause more damage than the wound itself." Kuai Liang reassures his younger brother as they turn and return to their own rooms to rest.

A small groan falls from Bi-han's lips as he rips the mask off his face, his teeth grinding together. He swiftly opened the door of your shared bedroom, trying his best to not wake you. As he quietly shuts the door, he turns back to see you sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed. A sigh of relief fell from his mouth at the sight of you, just knowing you were safe was enough to put him at ease.

His eyes darted to the bathroom, thinking that he could make his way there and clean up, while being quiet enough to not wake you. Bi-han would be lying if he said it wasn't difficult with the large wound at his side, but he would rather die than admit that. He took a breath before slowly beginning to walk towards the bathroom, a small wince caught in his teeth as his hand shot to his side.

As if you had super sonic hearing, you tossed in bed and turned your body to face him as your eyes slowly begin to open. Once you saw the shadowy figure in the dark, you quickly sat up. As you realized it was Bi-han, your heart began to relax for a moment. "I didn't think you were going to be so late." You whisper, still half asleep. "We ran into some trouble, it was a quick fight." He bluntly tells you, relieved you weren't able to see his wounded body in the dark. His relief is quickly gone when you reach over and turn on the soft light next to your bed. Your eyes instinctively shut as you held a hand over your eyes and try your best to focus on Bi-han. When your eyes adjust as best they could, you finally noticed the dark red on his blue uniform.

"What happened!?" You ask, now awake and pushing the covers off of your body.

Bi-han just groans before quickly walking into the bathroom. He tries to shut the door on you, but you quickly make your way into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" You ask with your eyes glued on his wound. "I am fine." He hissed, keeping his gaze away from you. "Clearly not." You said, a bit of anger setting in.

You pushed him back and made him sit down on the edge of the tub. You turned to grab a small bit of bandages and stitching kits from under your counter. You crouched down next to him as he exhaled deeply. His hands reached down and tried to take the needles from you but you pulled your hands away from him.

"Stop." You began to open up the sewing kit. "I can dress my own wounds, go back to sleep." He tries to demand. You look up and give him a sour look before gripping his shirt. "Take it off." You demanded as you pulled up on the upper part of his uniform.

He reluctantly abides, knowing that you are too stubborn to let him do this on his own. Now with his skin exposed, you could see the wound in full. It was a large cut from his upper ribcage down to the side of his lower abdomen. "Bi-han." You breathe out as you touch the skin around the wound, feeling dried blood around it.

"You act as if I am fragile." He snarls, still looking away from you. "I know you are not fragile which is why this is a bit much, but I knw you will be fine." You nod before pouring a bit of alcohol on a rag before dressing his wound. The alcohol on the wound causes Bi-han to wince loudly as he tightly grabs hold of your leg as you stood next to him.

"Do not treat me like a child." He shakes his head, his eyes tightly pressed together. "I am not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like my husband. It is my job to worry about you, to want to help you." You explain, feeling his grip on your leg soften as he finally turns to look at you. "I know you do not want my help even when you need it, but I am always here to provide it. Because I wish for you to be safe and not in pain, just as I hope you'd like that for me." You hold his face in your hands as he looks up at you, his cold demeanor completely faded as soft eyes stare at yours.

"I would freeze the world over to keep you safe."

A soft smile goes across your lips before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, pulling away and pressing your forehead to his.

Although you interpreted his saying as a metaphor, he meant every single word.

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part five.

꒰ ៹ . "𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 .𝟑𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒."

tough. - lana del rey + quavo

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: practice makes perfect...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: possibly fluffy, somewhat playful banter

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐕

a couple of months in the analysis unit had been more than enough time for you to prove your glowing ethics and efficiency when covering cases. but how good of an agent were you if you couldn’t even stick a bullet in a cardboard man’s flat head?

“...damnit…” you mutter under your breath, watching as your stray bullet somehow managed to swerve and hit the parchment square in the chest, which would’ve been great if you hadn’t been aiming for his leg.

watching idly from the entrance of the shooting range, spencer felt an amused grin tug at his lips. between the tug that pulled at his heartstrings and the sight of you struggling (your seemingly only flaw), he couldn’t deny the stream of delight and supremacy that surged through his veins. even though he failed his gun qualification not once, not twice, but four times.

but still, the feeling of triumph was like a breath of fresh air after months of constantly being outshone by you.

“no offense, doctor,” he dragged out the last word as usual, never forgetting to sprinkle it with just a trace of disdain, “but it’s pretty clear that you have no clue what you’re doing.”

you sigh, putting your arms to your side and clutching the handgun that sat loosely in your grip. you had heard when he came in and to be honest, you were almost certain that the only reason you couldn’t hit your target was because of the feeling of his hazel eyes obsessively burning holes in your back for the past 30 minutes. 

“laugh it up, doc.” you said dismissively, getting your arms back into position and pointing the gun straight at the shabbily pierced cardboard man. “i’ve almost got it, anyway.”

he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, hands shoved in his pockets. “not with that posture you don’t.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pulled back the earmuffs on your head, finally turning back to look at him in all his skinny, nerdy glory. you had never seen anyone pull off such an ugly sweater vest the way he did.

“what’s wrong with my posture, genius?” you placed a hand on your hip, watching his smug demeanor subtly wither away.

he cleared his throat, taking a cautious step forward. “for starters, you’re shoulders are hunched. pull them back a little and maybe you’ll actually hit the target.”

you narrowed your eyes slightly, trying to hide the fact that every single word had tattooed itself in your brain. 

he continued his instructions. “next, keep your feet shoulder-width apart. that’ll help you balance.”

you nodded slowly, visualizing the movements in your head.

“finally, apply pressure with both of your hands. i noticed that you allow your dominant hand to do all the work. try to distribute the tension evenly.”

spencer obviously didn’t mean to openly admit that he had been analyzing you and had only realized his screw-up when he saw a sly grin spread across your face.

“whatever you say, doctor…” you said quietly, facing your target once again and forcing your body into the instructed stance. you stood awkwardly, hands shaking slightly as you held them stiffly in front of you. clearly the boy-genius wasn’t as good of an instructor as he thought.

he cringed slightly, pulling his hands from his pocket as he approached you.

“you look like a marionette with a deranged puppeteer.” he gestured toward your feet pointing awkwardly toward eachother, your shoulders squeezed together, and your shaking arms.

you quickly fixed your posture, standing upright once again. “and who do i have to thank for that?” you asked sarcastically.

spencer held back a little laugh. as much as he found it hard to like you, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like the way you quickly snapped back at him and fearlessly put him in his place.

“okay, okay. just… hold still.”

with a few more careful steps he found himself standing directly behind you, using all his might not to rub up against you. he took your arms in his hands, pulling them up until they were angled perfectly with the target.

though this whole scene was undoubtedly inappropriate, you felt an odd sense of security sizzle in your chest.

“...feet shoulder-width apart…” his breath felt warm at the top of your head, leading you to obey him subconsciously. he nodded with approval, letting out a low hum.

“excuse me, reid, but i’m pretty sure if i landed a spot in the BAU, i’m more than capable of shooting a little gun on my own. how hard can it be?”

as you asked that question, he bit back the scientifically proven, and clearly unwanted tidbit of information that threatened to spill from his lips, deciding to say something much less mature, as he held your arms in place.

“has anyone ever told you how hard-headed you are?” he asked matter-of-factly.

you stay quiet, slightly taken aback by the boldness of the question. “no. but there’s a first time for everything, i guess. now am i holding this thing right or not?”

his hands snaked forward until they caressed yours, helping you keep a gentle but firm grip on the weapon. a soft sigh slipped through your lips as the tension in your body released. this was much better.

while you should’ve thanked spencer for the support, you were having a bit too much fun being stubborn. “why’re you helping me out anyway…”

your question caught him off guard. he had been wondering that himself. he didn’t even know why he had stayed in the corner watching you in the first place. but the addictive feeling of finally being better than you at something was too good for him to turn down. 

he sighed, speaking quietly. “i don’t know. i can relate to you, i guess. the gun qualification was the only test that i didn’t ace on the first try.”

you let out a small laugh. even his humility was laced with the fact that he and his all-knowing gray matter could do no wrong.

spencer felt a smile spread across his own lips as well, but a feeling in his gut stopped it from blooming. this temporary moment of paradise had let him to forget what terms you and him were on.

he cleared his throat, his lips inching toward your ear until he finally gave you the signal.

“now pull the trigger. nice and steady, don’t move your arms.”

a deafening bang rang through the room. your eyes instantly slammed shut, your body jerking back into his as you sent the bullet soaring forward. you panted heavily, the wind being knocked out of you from the impact. the thunderous noise was followed by an expecting silence.

“...atta, girl…” spencer whispered, finally encouraging you to open your eyes. a wave of relief surged through your body. you had hit the target head-on, making it the perfect shot.

you stood there, mouth agape as you stared through the hollow space in the center of the man’s head. a genuine smile graced your lips as you turned back, looking at the vestige of the proud expression that rested on his face.

“...thank you, spencer.” you said with formality that he couldn’t help but respect. with a pep in your step that hadn’t been there before you left the range, leaving him alone with his web of thoughts.

on one hand, he had helped a girl that probably had no experience with weaponry in her life. that should’ve given him at least a thread of pleasure, right? but instead, he was filled with the realization that he had just fed his only opponent the last thing she needed to be a fully qualified member of the unit. 

and he had served it to you on a silver platter without you having to lift a finger.

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[thebiggerbear]

So Close

Summary: You meet Colter and Russell at the morgue to help them gain access. Had you known how this was really going to go, you might have pushed Colter's call to voicemail.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x FBI!Female!Reader

A/N: I have zero idea what this is. My muse demanded I type this out after watching the morgue sneak peek scene and at this point, I'm giving her whatever she wants. I have never seen this show, know nothing about the characters and any relationships they may have or their background stories, only vaguely know what the premise is, and I'm waiting to see the episode like everyone else. And yet, the muse still put me to work. She can be so brutal sometimes.

I wouldn't call this speculation for 1x12 because I have no idea what's happened before it yet. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Full text in italics is dialogue from the morgue scene.

Warnings: mention of dead body; angst

Word Count: 2096

Sequel | Series (please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the series or any future Russell or Tracker works)

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

You met Colter and Russell Shaw at the morgue, telling them that you were only doing this one small favor and that was it and only for Colter. Colter, as always, understood. Russell, not so much.

The older man turned to look at his younger brother. “I thought you said she’d be a big help to us on this one.”

Before Colter could answer, you narrowed your eyes in Russell’s direction. “I’m putting my job at risk helping you,” you snapped.

And still just as infuriating as ever, he gave you a smile, that teasing gleam in his eye. “It’s good to see you again, Y/N. You are looking…” He worked his fingers into the all-too familiar gesture of approval, giving you a glance over. 

“Go to hell, Shaw.” You spun on your heel and started marching towards the building. “Let’s go,” you barked. “We’re on a timeclock.” 

You never looked back to see if they were following you but you heard Colter mutter not too far behind you, “You mind not pissing her off until after we get to see the body?” 

“Yeah,” Russell quietly agreed, sounding far more serious than he had a moment ago. As a matter of fact, he sounded a little down, which made you wonder what was really going on. You already knew of the strain between the brothers so them working together was odd in itself but Colter hadn’t given you details when he called you and you hadn’t asked for them. You hoped this case they were working had nothing to do with anyone who Russell might… You forced away the thought and renewed your focus on the task at hand. You weren’t here for anything pertaining to that. You needed to keep your mind clear, and your eyes and ears open. 

Once you were all inside, you noticed an older woman sitting at the reception desk. You were about to walk in and pull your badge, ready to lie your ass off and give your official spiel when Russell held a hand up. “I got this,” he assured you both, before waltzing right in. You and Colter exchanged a look before following him.

The woman glanced up briefly and saw you all approaching before going back to her computer. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, um…” Russell glanced down at her nametag as Colter moved to stand next to his brother, sporting a small smile. “Yolanda. Well, that is—that’s a beautiful name.” You slowly shook your head and crossed your arms. He was seriously going to try to charm his way in? Well, this ought to be fun to watch.

You weren’t surprised when she barely spared him a glance before going back to typing.

And of course, that didn’t deter him one bit. “Sadly, we, uh, we heard about Len Claimans. Recently deceased and, uh, we just need to see the body.”

That caught the woman’s attention as you expected it would. She immediately turned to face him and slipped her eye glasses onto her head. “What for?”

“How do you like working here?” You nearly smirked at the increased pitch in Russell’s voice, betraying his attempt at bullshitting and also a small case of nerves. It was almost as if he’d never lied before. Funny that. 

From Colter’s expression as he watched this trainwreck up close, he had to be thinking along the same lines as you, but more so wondering why this was even being attempted with you standing right there.

“Huh?” Russell continued. “I get a good vibe from you, you know. Kind eyes — helpful eyes, I like that.” You bit your lip to keep from saying something you shouldn’t. Russell had never been what you would call a good flirt, but he certainly was dialing up the charm to try to compensate. 

Too bad the charm didn’t seem to be working. Yolanda’s eyes immediately transferred to Colter. “What’s he talking about?”

Colter shook his head and turned to look at her. “The body might be connected to the disappearance of another man,” he explained. You noticed Russell glancing back at you out of the corner of his eye and you arched an inquisitive brow in his direction which made him immediately focus on Yolanda again, nodding along as his brother talked.

“Oh.” Yolanda looked regretful for a moment before going back to her computer. “I’m sorry, but unless you’re family, I can’t let you back there.”

Knowing this was the point Colter needed your intercession, you began to step forward but immediately froze when Russell snapped his fingers and spoke up. “I didn’t mention.” He gestured between him and Colter, giving Yolanda a smug grin, almost as if he had finally found the ruse that would work. “Cousins.” 

If you could have facepalmed right there without anyone seeing you, you would have. Wow. How was he so bad at this? And why didn’t he just let you do the talking? Or his brother for that matter?

Yolanda huffed out a breath of impatience. She was clearly done with this conversation and quite frankly, so were you.

Russell suddenly leaned forward. “We just-we just need a minute. Or two, you know? I promise we won’t disrupt a thing and then afterwards, maybe, uh, go grab a drink or, uh, somethin’ somethin’.” This time, you did briefly cover your face with your hand. This was just beyond embarrassing. Why did you agree to help these two again?

You could not believe what you were hearing and neither could Colter. You watched as he stared at his older brother before he decided to give it one last ditch effort and played along, turning a strained smile onto the woman.

And as expected, Yolanda finally reached her limit. “No. Sorry.” She got up from her chair and walked away.

Russell let out a disappointed breath. “That was so close.”

“No,” Colter rightfully disagreed.

You’d now reached your limit as well. Stepping forward, you loudly cleared your throat and came to a stop next to Russell. Yolanda turned to look at you, wondering what was coming next from the circus act that had apparently decided to roll into her office this afternoon. You gave her your best professional smile. “Hi there. I’m Special Agent Y/L/N with the FBI.” You slipped out your badge and held it up for her to see before putting it back into your pocket. “My associates here are correct. We’re currently investigating a missing persons case that may be connected to Mr. Claimans’ death. I’m going to need to take a look at the body as well as the autopsy report.”

Yolanda, clearly not believing anything you were selling today, stared over at you, unimpressed. “Do you have a warrant?”

“I can have one sent over to you in the next hour,” you lied. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a timeclock as I’m sure you can imagine.”

She glanced between you three, thinking it over. Russell and Colter looked back and forth between you two.

“Let me see that badge again.”

You grabbed it and handed it to her as she walked over. She studied it and then gave it back to you after a moment. “Ten minutes,” she decided. Both of you ignored Russell’s little smack to the counter and triumphant grin mixed with a quiet “I knew I liked you” in Yolanda’s direction. 

She looked bored. “That’s all I can give you.”

You gave her a nod of gratitude. “That’ll be plenty. Thank you.” 

She nodded and passed next to you to lead the way. You glanced in Colter’s direction and he nodded his thanks. Russell turned to you, his grin all but gone now, the serious tone from before back. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Sure.” He gave you the beginnings of a grateful smile, his gaze never leaving yours. You could feel yourself being sucked in, almost as if there was a strong magnetic force trying to pull you back in. There was so much going on behind those eyes that looked almost as if they were pleading with you for something — something that you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to give. You were still putting yourself back together, trying to repair the damage that his chaotic whirlwind had caused.

Colter quietly cleared his throat and it shattered the moment, and for that you were grateful. Especially when you noticed Russell had been discreetly moving closer to you. You moved away a bit, making Russell’s jaw tighten and his eyes harden, and started after Yolanda. “We should go,” you told Colter, happy to look upon him once again while you regained your bearings. “We’ve only got ten minutes and I really don’t need an ass chewing from my supervisor because your brother has no game.” 

Colter smirked and followed after you. Russell’s jaw dropped and he appeared alongside you once more, keeping pace with you. “I have game!”

“No, you don’t,” you snorted, keeping your eyes straight ahead, unwilling to look at him.

“Yes, I do. It worked on you once upon a time, didn’t it?”

You leveled a menacing glare on him before turning to look at Colter on your other side. “Why did you ask me to help you again?”

Colter pressed his lips together and decided to keep quiet, focusing on waiting for Yolanda to open the door to the morgue. “I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Russell leaned closer and murmured to you, “I do, too. And Y/N, after we get out of here, why don’t we go grab that drink I talked about? Just you and me? We can talk and catch up.” You turned your wide eyes onto him. Was he serious? He shot you a charming grin but you could also see the tiny gleam of hope in his gaze.

You ignored the familiar scent of his cologne as it wafted over you and you tamped down the painful memories it induced.

Colter looked like he would rather be anywhere else right then. You wished you were anywhere else right then. You turned your eyes forward, refusing to look at him anymore, not wanting to see any part of his reaction to what you were about to say. “You’re both on a timeclock, remember?” You asked quietly. “After we get what we need, you should go to the spot that's next on your list or immediately chase down any leads. As for me, I have to get back to work.”  You then surged ahead, standing right behind Yolanda and stepping into the room when she opened the door.

After a moment, you heard the brothers enter behind you and Colter muttered to Russell, “You good?”

“Yeah.” You nearly closed your eyes hearing that tone that you were starting to hate once more. “So close.” This time, when he echoed the words from before, there was no false bravado attached to them, no playfulness or humor, only what you detected as regret. 

This time, Colter didn’t say anything in response. Both brothers joined you and you all watched as Yolanda selected a drawer and slid it out. Feeling Russell next to you, you swore to yourself that this would be the last time you would take a call from Colter for a long time. While you liked the younger Shaw, it was the older Shaw you didn’t want to chance running into ever again. 

You stared ahead as Yolanda unzipped the body bag, tensing as you felt the sleeve of Russell’s jacket unintentionally brush against you. So close? Too close.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Russell watching you intently, his expression serious and that regretful look in his eyes once more. You forced your gaze back to the woman reminding you of your ten minute window, refusing to allow any sympathy for the older man on your left. You hadn’t been the one to ruin things between you; you’d only been left to pick up the pieces. You were done feeling sorry for Russell Shaw. 

You took the report Yolanda offered to you before she left and began flipping through it, skimming the text, as Colter took a closer look at the body. From your peripherals, Russell stared at you a moment longer and then moved to stand next to his brother, their backs to you. Sadly, a familiar sight of the man you’d once loved. You blinked away rapidly forming tears and went back to reading.

As much as you hated to admit it, Russell had been right. So close indeed.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[soldearestsoulmate]

This...went completely elsewhere on what I was planning in the end. Whoops?

A idea over how Sol would react to a MC who isn't as trusting of him, and pretty much wants nothing to do with him.

Warnings: Implied drugging, nonconsensual acts, sexual assault, stalking, obsessiveness over the MC, etc.

The only reason you helped him that day in the library was because you felt bad for the guy. Nothing more.

And the fact you shared a class was him was a coincidence, and bother too. You wanted to put that day behind you, but seemed you couldn't now.

You tried to ignore him, said to him to just move on from that incident when he brought it up. But he seemed to want the opposite.

Suddenly he's asking you to eat with him during lunch. You declined. Then after a few times of saying no, he started to go to the cafeteria with you, but never sat with you and your group of friends.

He sat alone in another table, clearly uncomfortable but stayed near by. And watched you, observed you from afar...You tried to ignore it, ignore him, but everyone noticed it now. It was awkward.

Until you had to leave the place and he followed along like a puppy. Since it was becoming too much now for you to endure.

Then he started to offer(insist) on helping carry your books, help with your work, etc. Even if you didn't like it or want it.

It was driving you mad, and you felt uncomfortable, especially since he didn't know about personal space now, or the meaning and word "NO".

Crowe tried to reassure you maybe he's just trying be friends with you is all. Just doesn't know how well...And then he brought up how he was very determined like him to always be with you and by your side. To break through your barriers to finally have you trust him. And see he meant no harm to you. Only wanted to be your friend...(and more maybe one day).

Though...Crowe was different. You knew this, or recalled that is...Sol however...It felt...wrong...troubling. Something didn't feel right, and you listened to your gut instead of pushed it away.

Yet even with all that, Sol continued to follow you. Until you had enough, and accepted him in your life. Since all the fighting back was pointless anyway you felt finally.

He became a second shadow to you now. But a clear one all could see, and some even avoided you now since he became a personal body guard too.

"...Fuck...Forgot my penci--" "I got one, pumpkin." "...T-thanks..." You never understood why he called you that...It made you feel weird...Yet tried to get used to it. It was just a silly nickname after all. No real deep meaning or all behind it, right?

Then he started to accompany you home, enter your home, through your invite that is...That's when you should of listened to your gut but you were tired. He exhausted you. He was annoying but never tried anything to harm you, so you thought whatever to it all...You should of listened...kept fighting.

The next day you woke up in bed, drowsy, and felt...odd...Your body felt, not like itself, but you couldn't understand why. Then you realized you were in bed, no recollection how you got there...What even happened last night?

Then you realized, you were being held by someone...Their arms wrapped around you. It startled you, scared you. You moved away fast and noticed who was in bed with you...Sol...

"W-what the hell?! W-what are you doing in my bed!" Shit shit...what happened?! You couldn't remember. Your mind was racing over this all. But Sol tried to calm you down, reassure you nothing happened, that you were okay. Just you both fell asleep in bed together after talking a long time, and he accidently clung to you in his sleep. That's all. (That was a lie.)

That calmed you down a little, but you still felt uncomfortable over this all.

"...Please leave. I appreciate you not doing anything to me, and staying over...I guess... But...I need time alone. Also I got to get ready for school." Sol nodded and gave a small frown but asked for something before leaving. "...Can I give you a hug before I go? If that's...alright?"

Now you were more weirded out than before...but he looked really sad as he looked at you, with pleading eyes at that...God...It was just one hug right? You didn't like them but said fine finally.

The way he hugged you felt like you being engulfed whole. He held you close, and tight. Then you felt something at your neck...His lips ever so lightly brushing against your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you wanted to push him back and off but he didn't budge.

"S-Sol. I think this is enou--!!" It was without warning, he bit into your neck, making you let out a loud gasp. Shit you should of hated this, you wanted to but it felt...familiar, so...good? What was going on with you?

"Heheh...Just like last night..." Hearing that made you feel ill and confused. What did he mean? But before you could ask, he bite again, but sucked on your flesh where he bit at. You felt your body heat up from that now. Your hands gripped his back, and nails started to dig and claw into him. Though that only excited him more.

"I want you to remember what happened before...I might of...lied about nothing happening last night...But you'll forgive me right? After you remember how good it felt. How good I make you feel~."

Now you tried again to push him off but he didn't move. He was strong...Stronger than you believed. Shit if he was this strong then why did he take those hits before that day in the library? Why did he jus--Before you could try to piece together why. He kissed your lips, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and intruded in you.

You tried to fight back at first, then suddenly you found yourself enjoying this, loving this...Before you knew it you were back onto your bed, him on top of you. Making out with him. While already he was rubbing your sweet spot below, making you groan and whimper during it all. You didn't want this...right? Your mind screamed no but your body...It said other wise...

"You'll finally know how much I love you, pumpkin. You'll finally realize we're meant to be~." His words scared you...Yet like a moth to a flame, he drew you in.

And even though your mind was screaming no, this couldn't have been too bad, right? Since it felt right, and good...He made you feel good.

Maybe for once, it was okay to let him in...to trust him...

[hyperbolicreverie]

an au of It's on the tip of his tongue where sanji recognizes law's accent 

Interesting! This diverges from the point in the fic where Robin originally realizes what Law's saying.

As Law stomps off, Sanji finds himself rooted to the deck where he's standing, memory tripping back through time to a point in his life he does his best not to linger on.

He's heard those same words before, said not in anger but in desperation, in the voice of a parent so driven to the edge that they'd sought help for their family's plight at the hands of the North Blue's old enemy. Because while Germa was anathema to any good citizen of the sea, their scientific prowess was undeniable, and medicine and society both had failed them so far. A deal with the devil was all they had left.

Sanji remembers Judge's interest in the Amber Lead, even before those wayward souls had landed on the Germa flotilla. He'd spoken at length about its potential as a toxin, as a resource to be exploited just like everything else that came under his thumb, and he'd complained at just how hard it was to get his hands on the stuff, now that the World Government had put on embargo on the material.

That family had been his chance.

He'd pulled the stuff out of those people just as he'd promised, but Sanji was pretty sure those afflicted hadn't survived the process. Judge never cared about relieving suffering with his methods, just what he could get from the results. At the very least, Sanji had never seen them again after they'd disappeared into the laboratories.

Eventually, Judge had discarded the idea of working with Amber Lead. It had been too unreliable a resource, and he'd disparaged it as being useless for his purposes. Just a shiny trinket that lesser peoples had used to adorn themselves, to their eventual ruin, and not worthy of Germa attention. He had turned to other endeavors, and the North Blue had driven the rest of the people of Flevance to extinction.

Well, all but one it seemed.

Law's fear was not an unfounded one; Sanji knew with bitter familiarity what fear looked like when it was based on lived experience. The fact that he'd survived was a miracle in itself, but Sanji had no doubt that it had been the rockiest of roads.

The question of how he'd survived wasn't a question at all: if Law could pull body swaps with something as nebulous as a personality, then removing poison from his body would be child's play, wouldn't it?

How old was the other captain, anyway? Older than him, he's pretty sure, but underneath the tired, grumpy old man demeanor, Law has one of those faces that's hard to accurately date. But...Sanji had been five when news of Flevance reached Germa. Unless Law is quite a bit older than he thinks, that brings to mind a whole host of horrors he does not have the bandwidth to entertain right now.

He fixed up the kids at Punk Hazard. He was as prickly as a sea urchin about it, and scared Chopper half to death, but he did.

"Sanji?" Robin's voice cuts through the frenetic pace his brain is going at.

He looks up, and sees the expression on her face. She knows, but of course she must know. If he had finally managed to put the clues together with just an old memory, then their language specialist knowing was no surprise at all. Still, it hurts to see the same fear and hurt he'd seen on Law reflected on her face, when they'd done so much to try to erase it.

Sometimes, things just struck far too close to home.

"I think," he says slowly. "That I am going to go make some onigiri."

Because if he needs to do something with his hands to process the enormity of what he's just learned, then the topic of those thoughts might as well benefit from it.