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nsharks · 3 months ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach.

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No.

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free.

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension.

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall.

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it.

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side.

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood.

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?"

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold.

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?"

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear.

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring.

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp.

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm.

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

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paddockletters · 7 months ago

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comebacks | carlos sainz

paring: carlos sainz x reader | f1 grid x reader summary: you attends your high school reunion, facing your old bullies and flaunts you newfound confidence alongside your fiancé and with the support of the f1 grid author's note: i hope you like it! it was my first fic with carlossss!... well, as I always say... english is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me—

As I stirred the last remnants of my wine in the glass, laughter echoed through the kitchen. Carlos leaned casually against the counter, recounting a funny moment from the last race, his eyes lighting up with joy. Lando animatedly mimicked a miscommunication between him and Max, while George and Daniel chuckled at the story.

“Seriously, Y/N, you have to come!” Lando insisted, throwing a piece of bread my way. “This reunion is your chance to show them how far you’ve come!”

“I don’t know, guys. Do I really want to walk into a room full of people who used to bully me?” I replied, crossing my arms, feeling a familiar unease creep in.

“Come on! You’re not that awkward girl anymore,” Max chimed in, a reassuring grin on his face. “You’ve built an amazing career. They’ll be jealous.”

“Exactly! You’ve got a killer job now. Show them what they missed out on,” George added, leaning in with a playful smirk.

“Plus, it’ll be funny to watch them squirm when they see you with Carlos,” Daniel added, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Carlos chuckled, watching the exchange with a knowing smile.

“I promise you, they’ll regret ever doubting you.”

“Yeah, but what if they start throwing shade?” I shot back, my worries bubbling to the surface.

“Who cares?” Daniel replied, his tone upbeat. “We’ve got your back. The Grid vs. Your Old Bullies—what could be better?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.

“But I can’t be your only entertainment. Don’t you all have reputations to uphold?”

“Who said we can’t all have fun?” Oscar chimed in, flashing a grin. “But seriously, we’ll be right there with you.”

“Think of it this way,” Carlos said, stepping closer, his eyes earnest. “You’ll be showing them just how wrong they were to underestimate you. They’ll be wishing they had been nicer to you all those years ago.”

After a moment of contemplation, I finally relented.

“Okay, fine! I’ll go,” I said, rolling my eyes as laughter erupted around the room.

The night of the reunion arrived, and I stood before the mirror, adjusting my earrings. The fitted black dress hugged my curves, and the diamonds sparkled under the soft light.

“You look stunning,” Carlos said, appearing behind me, his eyes warm with admiration.

“Thanks. Just trying to keep up with my handsome fiancé,” I replied, smirking as I turned to face him.

As we entered the venue, a wave of nerves washed over me. The moment we stepped inside, silence swept across the crowd. I could feel my old classmates’ eyes on us, and I straightened my posture, reminding myself I was no longer the shy girl they used to know.

“Wow, look who it is! The little princess of the tech world!” one of my former bullies sneered, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit excessive, flaunting your bling and all?” another chimed in, a smug smile creeping across her face.

“Guess you really are just after money.”

I lifted my chin, feeling a surge of defiance.

“If you think I’m a golddigger, you clearly haven’t seen the annual report of my company. I’m here because I want to be, not because of Carlos’s wallet.”

Carlos, observing quietly, stepped forward, his voice steady.

“And let’s not forget, I’m the lucky one here. I’m with a woman who knows her worth and has earned her success.”

Their expressions shifted from arrogance to disbelief. The room buzzed with whispers as I stood tall, pride swelling within me.

“Where are you two heading after this?” one of them asked, clearly fishing for information.

“Actually, we’re headed to La Belle Époque for dinner,” I replied casually, letting a small smile slip. “I hear their seafood is exquisite.”

Their eyes widened in surprise, and I caught a glimpse of envy flicker across their faces.

“That place is hard to get into!” one of the girls exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, well, Carlos knows a guy,” I said with a shrug, playing it cool.

Carlos chuckled as we turned to walk away, their stunned faces fading behind us.

“You handled that well. I love how confident you are.”

“Thanks! I figured I’d give them a taste of my success,” I replied, exhilarated.

As we arrived at the restaurant, the ambiance was breathtaking, and the scent of gourmet food wafted through the air. The hostess greeted us with a warm smile and led us to a private table adorned with flickering candles.

“This place is incredible,” I marveled, taking in the elegant decor.

“Only the best for my queen,” Carlos said, pulling out my chair with a charming grin.

As we settled in, the rest of the grid joined us, filling the table with laughter and good-natured banter.

“So, what was the highlight of the reunion?” George asked, leaning forward, clearly curious.

“The look on their faces when Y/N schooled them!” Carlos said, raising his glass with a chuckle.

“Yeah, you were on fire!” Daniel added, clearly impressed. “Who knew you had it in you?”

I felt a rush of warmth at their support.

“Thanks, guys. I just couldn’t let them walk all over me.”

Carlos looked at me, pride shining in his eyes.

“You’ve come such a long way. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, but how did you keep it together?” Lando asked, leaning back with a playful smirk. “I’d be a mess if I had to face my high school bullies.”

“Honestly? I just remembered all the hard work I’ve put in and realized they don’t matter anymore.” I replied, my confidence buoyed by their encouragement.

As dessert was served, a rich chocolate mousse, I couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie surrounding me. I had faced my fears, reclaimed my confidence, and found my place among these incredible friends.

As the night progressed, laughter filled the air, and stories of past races flowed freely. Carlos shared tales of his experiences on the grid, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for him, too.

“I remember the first time I met Carlos,” Daniel said, grinning. “He was so nervous he could barely say hello! Now look at him—engaged to a CEO and winning races.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget his million-dollar smile,” I added playfully, earning a round of chuckles.

Carlos flashed a grin, his eyes twinkling.

“I still get nervous sometimes, especially with Y/N around.”

As dessert disappeared and glasses clinked, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me. I had confronted my past and emerged stronger, supported by the incredible friends I had made along the way.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” Oscar asked, glancing around the table.

“We could hit up that club nearby or just keep the celebration going here.”

“Honestly, I’m just happy to be here with all of you,” I said, leaning back in my chair, feeling grateful. “But I’m down for whatever. As long as we’re together, I’m good.”

“Let’s make this a night to remember, then!” Lando exclaimed, raising his glass high.

As the evening wound down, Carlos wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.

“You really were incredible tonight,” he whispered, his voice low.

“Thanks for being my support, Carlos,” I replied, leaning against him, feeling safe and cherished.

“Always,” he said, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get out of here and enjoy our time together.”

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cherbii · 5 months ago

Text

FRIENDS | modern!dealer! Ryomen Sukuna

summary ➜ your plug has been a lot nicer to you, and by a lot, he has you bent over sideways in his car, but you swear you two are strictly friends.

warnings ➜ language, weed use, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, high sex, car sex, choking, titty slapping (sue me), gagging, riding, spanking. mdni

You had bought weed from Sukuna a few times, and each he’d charge you less and less until you didn't have to pay anymore, something Sukuna never does.

You'd taken this as a sign that your presence was somewhat welcomed around his, so at a frat house dorm party, you see him in the corner, a bored look in his eye and a blunt dangling from his lips while he's surround by his friends, Geto, Gojo and Choso, all four looking like guard dogs, but really, they're waiting for customers.

You told your best friend, Shoko, that you're off to the bathroom when really, you just wanted to see your favourite (only) drug dealer. So with the swing of the hips, you strut towards him.

His dark, crimson gaze catches your movement and trails your body as you sway towards his group of boys, his eyes lingering on your hips for a brief moment before his eyes flick back to your own, his lips twitching up into a slight smirk as he watched you approach.

The three other boys turn to look at you too, clearly curious as to what you were going to do. "What do you want?" Sukuna asks, his voice gruff and deep as he takes the blunt from between his lips, his eyes roaming your body for a moment longer before he looks up to fix his gaze on yours once more. His friends stay silent, watching the interaction between yourself and Sukuna with curious gazes.

"Can't a friend say ‘hi', 'Kuna?" You tilt your head to the side while your fingers reach out to his chest, manicured nails tracing along his hard chest under the thin cotton of his shirt until they reached the blunt, before you plucked it out from his lips.

He gives you a slight look of faux annoyance, but can't help the smirk that appears on his face at your forwardness.

Sukuna’s friends all smirk, Gojo leaning in to whisper something in Choso's ear before looking back at you and Sukuna. Geto just looks bored, his eyes lazily scanning over the two of you.

You take a long inhale of the blunt before shifting your weight to the other foot. "You never introduced me to your friends, asshole."

His smirk deepens slightly, and he gives a small sigh. "They're a bunch of pussies. You don't 'need' to know them." He says, his voice low as he leans in a little closer, his breath tickling the skin of your exposed neck.

His friends give a small gasp, and Gojo rolls his eyes. "Rude much?" He says, his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, why don't you introduce us to your girlfriend?" A corner of Geto's lips tugged up, even under the vibrant pink and red flashing lights, you could see the piercing violet of his eyes.

A muscle twitches in Sukuna's jaw, and he turns his dark gaze to Geto. "She's not my girlfriend.” He says, his voice icy as his gaze fixes back to you, his eyes trailing down your body lazily.

The three other boys all smirk at his comment, and Gojo leans in a little closer. "You sure about that?" He asks, a hint of mockery in his tone.

You roll your eyes. "We aren't dating."

"See?" Sukuna quips, his lips curling into a smirk. "I told you."

"We are just friends. It's been nothing more and won't be anything less." You shot back, all while leaning more into Sukuna, and bringing the blunt back to your lips.

You said this, yet your mind couldn't help but go to the situation you were in just the other day, pressed up against Sukuna, on his lap in the backseat of his car while you two shared a blunt.

As the music in the car began to fill the air, he leant back comfortably in his seat. He could feel the warmth of your body against his, your scent filling his senses and making his head feel fuzzy for a moment.

He reached over and takes a long drag from the blunt, the smoke filling the car and making the air around your both hazy. His free hand found its way to your thigh, his thumb tracing mindless circles against the material of your skirt.

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his touch, while you take the blunt from his lips and taking a hit yourself, eyes staring back at his slender, vermillion ones. The car fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, save for the soft music playing quietly through the radio.

Sukuna’s hand on your thigh started to inch further up under your skirt, fingers tracing the soft flesh of your inner thigh with the lightest touch possible, almost teasingly.

He's completely focused on the sight of you in his car, your body pressed up against his, and the way your skirt has ridden up just enough that he can feel your soft skin beneath his hand.

He leant in closer, his breath hot on your skin as he lets out a breath. "This skirt of yours is too short, doll.” He murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as his hand slowly moved up your thigh further.

You grin, it's lazy and loopy. "No, I don't think it's short enough, 'Kuna."

A smirk quirks at the corner of his lips, and he let out a low rumble of amusement at your words. His hand moves higher and higher up your thigh, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Oh really?" His breath hot against your skin as he speaks, sending a shiver of desire down your spine.

You nod. "Yeah, I think it should be this short." You tell him, while grabbing the fabric of your skirt and raising it until it's bunched at your waist, exposing your thin panties that's formed a neat wet patch between your legs.

His eyes darkened, his breath leaving him in a gasp as a possessive, feral look flashed in his vermilion irises. His hand that was on your thigh grips your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there as he pulls you even closer to him.

He lets out a low growl, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, "You know damn well what you're doing, don't you?"

"No? Show me?"

A dark smirk creeps across his lips at your reply. With a quick and smooth movement, his hand slides from your hip to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you in place as he leans in, his lips hovering a mere breath away from yours. "You want me to show you what you do to me?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as his eyes rake over your exposed skin.

"Show me, and don't hold back." A low, feral growl rumbles in his chest, and he leans in to press a hot, possessive kiss to your neck. He kisses and nips at the skin there before he starts to trail down, his tongue laving along your pulse point as he murmurs,

"You don't have to tell me twice." His hand on your chin moves to the strap of your bra, his touch light and teasing as he begins to unhook it with practiced ease.

You groan, before plopping the blunt back between your lips, now with both hands free, you sink them into his cotton candy coloured hair. A low, appreciative hum rumbles in his chest as you thread your fingers through his hair, your touches and soft sounds of pleasure only serve to push his possessive nature further.

He pushed your bra strap down as his lips travel lower, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your exposed skin. His tongue darted out, tracing lazy patterns along the exposed flesh, his breath hot against your skin.

His tongue teased and probed until he's found the sweet spot where your neck and collarbone meets. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, his teeth just harsh enough to make your body shudder.

Sukuna’s hand, which had been on your chin, moves down, his fingers tracing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his touch light and taunting.

His lips make their way down your chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake.

His free hand, which had been unbuttoning your shirt, pushes the material of the garment down your shoulders, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. He pulls back for a moment, his eyes dark and darkened as he drinks in the sight of your body almost fully exposed to him.

“'Kuna, I wanna touch you too." You groan, handing him back the blunt.

A small, smug smile plays at the corners of his lips as he takes the blunt from you once more, his gaze slowly raking over your body as you speak.

"I have no objections to that," he says, his voice low and husky with desire. His eyes darkened as he looks over your near-nude state, and he takes another long drag of the joint as he murmurs, "But only if you ask nice."

A soft, needy sigh escapes your lips before you rock your hips forward, enough to have you balanced on your knees and your hands go to his shoulders. "Please can I touch you, 'Kuna? I wanna feel you."

A low growl rips from his chest as he looks down at you, his gaze dark and filled with desire. He brings his hand up to your jaw, tilting your head up as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip.

"You look so needy right now," he murmurs, his voice smooth and full of barely restrained restraint. "You want to touch me that badly, do you?"

You hurriedly nod. His smirk widened at your eagerness, and he let out a low hum of satisfaction as he lets his fingers trail down from your jaw, tracing along the column of your neck.

"Then come and touch me," he said, his voice low and rough as he leant back against the seat of the car, the blunt still in one hand as he looks at you with a heated gaze. "Show me how much you wanna touch me."

With quick, agile movements, your hand drops from his shoulders to his sweats, eagerly tugging down the waistband.

Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly in his throat at your sudden boldness, his eyes darkening as they rake over you. A low, possessive rumble rumbles in his chest, and he looks at you with a mixture of admiration and lust.

"Eager, aren't you?" He says, his voice husky and rough with want. He leans back against the car seat, the back of his head resting against the soft material, and he lets his hand rest on your shoulder, a silent invitation for you to continue.

"Shut up, don't act like you don't enjoy this." You mumbled, moving onto his boxers next before working to get those off.

A dark, almost predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you work.

"I do.” He said simply, his voice a low, rough rumble. He leaned back, his head resting against the seat as he allows you to take charge, his eyes dark and full of possessive desire as he watches you.

His hand that was on your shoulder moves to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, a silent command not to move too fast.

Your eyes would not and could not be pried off his aching cock that sprung free, the same pattern of tattoos that ran down his cheeks, chest and back also ran down the thick, veiny shaft, a aching, pink tip that weeped arousal.

Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly as you examine him, and a low, quiet noise rumbles in his chest as he lets you look.

You could almost feel the heat radiating from him in waves, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Tenderly, eagerly, lovingly, hastily, you crane your neck down and let your saliva dribble past your lips and onto his fat tip.

"Yeah, just like that." Sukuna groaned as you wrapped your hand around him and pumped in languid strokes. He watched you with eyes dropping shut as he brought the blunt to his lips, taking a large inhale before tipping his head back and letting the smoke chimney out.

You pumped and twisted your wrist, ensuring his cock was evenly lubricators before removing your hand. "Gonna ride you, 'Kuna." You told him as you leant back, about to take off your underwear when Sukuna stopped you.

"Leave them on." He told you, using his fingers to push it off to the side instead, exposing your glistening pussy, dripping out of pure want.

A whine was tugged from your lips when his thumb lifted and pushed against your pearled nub, rubbing hard circles. His painted nail got coated in your slick before he removed his hand altogether. Hastily, you say straighter and positioned yourself over his tip, letting it rub against your folds before it caught onto your hole.

Almost as eager, Sukuna thrusted his hips up, having his tip slip into you, having you groan out before allowing your weight to drop down onto him, his tattoos disappearing into your pussy, feeding you his cock. Not even waiting for the pain from the stretch subdue, you began to raise your hips, bouncing them up and down, lips falling open as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

"Yeah, like that. Show me how much you love this cock." Sukuna egged you on, greedy eyes trained on your pussy that gripped and squeezed him, ego boosting when he saw your thighs quiver from the strain it was to take him.

"I love it, makes me feel so good." You moaned, leaning back onto the backs of the front seats and swivelling your hips, switching between the circular motions and the pivot motions.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull when you felt his fingers reach out and wrap around your neck, squeezing. His other hand went around you, and squeezed at the flesh of your ass, leaving crescent shaped dents in its woke.

"I can feel you getting tired. Can't do shit properly when you're getting fucked on my dick? Stupid slut." Sukuna grinned, palm whipping your ass cheeks until his heart's content, until they were sore and tender.

"Please? Please? Please help m-me?" You managed to get out, letting Sukuna use his hand on your throat and now the other on your hip to piston you on his cock, his hips thrusting up to meet yours.

You let your one arm fall limply while the other traced around your breasts and down the expanse of your stomachs before it reached between your legs and found your aching clit, fingers swirling around to enlighten your pleasure.

"Do that, makes you squeeze around me tighter, shit," Sukuna groaned, veins popping out on his forehead as he heaved out ragged breaths. "Dumb yourself down on this dick."

Sukuna's eyes ravaged you, seeing you crumble under his touch. His cock plummeting into the funny depths of your pussy, convulsing around him, making him curse.

The blunt was discarded, now burning out on the car seat. Sukuna let his fingers unravel from your throat, and allow for them to fly in the air and land on your breasts, landing a harsh slap against your sensitive nipple. "Mm, 'Kuna. More." You blabbered, head thrown back and fingers rubbing your clit raw.

Sukuna grinned wolfishly, bringing his hand up and slapping your other breast, watching you squirm. His fingers then went to your nipple and pinched the sensitive bud, until you cried out, feeding into his primal and sadistic fantasies. He didn't give your nipple it's time to recover before he was squeezing away, groaning when you clenched down on him harder.

"Fuck! Fuck! 'Kuna 's sore!" You whined, grinding your hips onto his. You whimpered when he removed his fingers, until they were suddenly working their way past your lips, pressing against your throat and pushing your tongue down.

"Shut up, you dumb slut. Your body is just too good, it's making me want to destroy you," he bit his grin, eyes dark when he felt you squeeze him. "You like that idea? Need me to destroy you?"

You frantically nodded, breath knocked out of you when your back hit the plush seats, now having Sukuna hover over you.

His right hand gripped the seat above while the other gripping your hip, before his hips were thrusting into you, relentlessly.

The car windows steamed over with smoke and condensation. Loud moans and mewls tumbled from your babbling lips as you felt your brain become nothing short of mush, oozing out from between your legs, arousal dripping down his cock.

"W-Who knew that selling some high class princess would lead to me slutting her out in my car, h-huh?" Sukuna gloated, before a marvellous idea sprung in his mind. His fingers found the window button and pressed it, letting the glass roll down. "Gonna let everyone hear how good I'm making you feel."

His hips nearly pulled his cock all the way out of you, before it plummeted back in, leaving you to loudly moan his name.

"Yeah, tell everyone who's making you feel this good."

"You... Su...Kuna!" You moaned loudly, letting anyone and everyone hear you. "I'm—I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna—!" A raw, loud moan ripped from the deep confines of your chest as you came, your orgasm hitting you like a brick wall.

Your nails dug into the car seat and your back arched, mouth wide open and cross eyes as Sukuna fucked you through your orgasm.

"Shit! Fuck! I'm cumming too, gonna cum deep in this pussy..." Sukuna groaned, his becoming sloppy as he spilled inside of you, filling you full of cum that began to drip out of you. "Shit, doll. Might keep you around now. Might need to make you mine."

And now you blinked up at the snowette, who peered down at you with a smirk, eyeing the hand that wrapped around your waist. "You sure? Like really sure?"

"Yep, we are strictly friends." You nodded.

"Sweet, so youre single?"

And Sukuna nearly shredded Gojo to pieces.

#ᶻz 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐈 #anime #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut

374 notes · View notes

burgojo · 5 months ago

Text

HONEY POT. PJM / KTH / M!READER

summary. there's something wrong with the popular kids at this small-town high school. something deeply, viscerally, hauntingly wrong...

wc. 8.8k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, switch!jimin, jimin in skirts and heels, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, biting, spitroasting, brief daddy kink (r. receiving), gratuitous blood/gore, blood as lube (from another wound), cultism & religious fervour, cannibalism, murder

note. happy halloween!! i began this in early august to be on time, but uh, we know how that turned out :')

"—and i was like, no, that isn't how this works! i'm literally the best he's ever had, why would he ever wanna break up with me? i even bought him that stupid walkman he kept whining about and he still went and cheated on me and then tried to dump me. me! how could he?"

"well, he was already on his way to being a forty-year-old junkie who lives in a trailer park and hates life. he could've had so much with you. he'll realise how much he messed up – he'll get his karma."

"i know, i know... you're right. i just wish he could've been nicer. could've saved us both the trouble."

jimin lifts his soft dark eyes from his pink handheld mirror. he smacks his glossy lips and shuts the mirror with a clack, crossing his legs the other way and leaning back against the steps of the steel bleachers. he glances up at taehyung, who sits one step above him.

dressed in a cropped, pale pink shirt and blue jeans, taehyung fans his hot face with chunky rings on each finger, eyes lifted to the sky in a futile effort to hold back tears. jimin had already helped him redo his makeup in the bathroom, and this wasn't the first time taehyung had cried over a boy. poor thing just had too big of a heart – he wasn't made for modern boys and their vices.

jimin sucks on his teeth and sighs, turning forwards to lord over the verdant grassy field, where the senior boys are engaged in tryouts for college football teams. "don't worry, honey. we'll find the right one for you eventually. maybe try an athlete? the artsy ones are always such snobs."

"oh, they aren't all that bad, really," taehyung mumbles, patting the corners of his damp eyes lightly. "anyway, they all want you, not me. they're not into anyone who isn't a cheerleader."

"you're being silly. they just don't think you're interested – you keep rejecting them." jimin scours the field, tucking his dark hair behind his ear. a diamond stud flashes under the sun. he reaches out and touches taehyung's knee, leaning in for secrecy he doesn't need. "how about that one?"

"he called me a sour bitch. no."

"and that one?"

"he made me do all the work on a paired project and took my ninety-eight for himself. no."

jimin purses his lips, eyes flickering between their faces, warm and shining under the sun. all around, they looked quite similar – all fairly muscular, with the same lazy grins. not bad for eye-candy, he supposes, but taehyung is a romantic, which is how anyone he dates manages to bury themselves so deeply in his heart.

motion by the changing rooms on the other side of the field. jimin's eyes flick over naturally, and they widen.

strong, handsome, and, most importantly, taehyung is already looking at him.

he keeps his watchful gaze discreet, following the figure as he crosses the field and joins the coach to speak with him briefly. he is handed a football, which he tosses and spins in his hands a few times, and the coach gathers a few lounging boys to help out.

they spread out, and the tryout begins.

jimin isn't an expert on the game, only knows the basics, but he knows how to read a man – and the coach is clearly impressed by what he sees. jimin observes quietly, crossing his legs and uncrossing them, as he runs circles around the rest of the boys, leaving them far in the dust.

at last, when the boys are huffing and puffing with their hands on their heads and the cute one takes his time wandering back to the coach – after meeting jimin's eyes for a quick, sparkling second – jimin turns his head in taehyung's direction.

"what about... that one?"

taehyung huffs, pressing his knees together and resting his elbows on them. jimin doesn't mention how his gaze flicks to his shoes before meeting jimin's, almost as if he didn't want to be caught looking. he gives the footballer a once-over, then inspects his nails. "too tall."

jimin watches him push back his cuticles with his thumbnail, those thick dark lashes brushing his fine cheekbones. his prettiness makes him a honeypot for invariably bad people, and though jimin feels for him, he can't say he wants him to stop trying. everyone has their place in the world – even cheaters and liars. taehyung's relationships make it easier to weed them out for proper atonement.

"are you sure?" jimin asks carefully, tilting his head. "he looks like just your type."

"i don't have a type," taehyung sighs. "if i did, it'd make finding people that much harder."

eventually, jimin hums, and turns away to watch the tryouts.

out of sight, taehyung's shoulders slump slightly, and he exhales shakily. he nibbles on the edge of his nail as his eyes follow a figure lifting a water bottle to his lips. his sweat-shining throat bobs as he swallows rapidly, and a trickle of water escapes from the corner of his lips; it trails down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. he wipes it away without much thought. taehyung presses his thighs together.

suddenly, jimin turns back to him, propping his chin on his palm. his eyes are big and innocent as he asks, "hey, tae? you know that ex we were talking about earlier? i want his address."

"o-oh, um – just to make him sorry, right?"

"yeah. he will be."

taehyung swallows. "yes. okay. is it bad that i feel... that i pity him?"

jimin giggles, sweet and high like a bell. he squeezes taehyung's knee. "you're my best friend. i'm not going to let anyone get away with hurting you. you know that."

"mhm, i know. just make sure nobody sees you, alright? i don't want you getting in trouble for vandalism or something."

"oh, my charges would definitely include more than petty vandalism, but you know me – i cannot be caged!" he jumps to his feet and stretches high above his head, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of pure, unblemished skin. the way he scrunches his nose slightly makes taehyung's heart flutter.

he exhales softly as his neck cracks, and he flashes taehyung a quick smile as he packs up his pin-studded messenger bag and slings it over his shoulder. "you can give me his address after school, but don't leave it too late. don't forget about the curfew. i have to go for now, but you make sure you take care of yourself, okay? if you feel too sad to study, i'm sure my mother would let you go home early if you asked."

taehyung hums and nods, leaning forward on the bench as jimin skips down the bleachers until his ivory pumps make a satisfying clack on the concrete base. "your nepo-baby status is really helpful sometimes, y'know?"

jimin beams, his eyes crinkling to crescents. "i know! see you around, honey. love you!"

"love you," taehyung echoes, and watches him go. his all-white outfit makes him as bright as the moon, and just as breathtaking. effortlessly, he carves a path through the crowds like moses and the red sea, perfectly oblivious to the power he wields over them all.

taehyung sighs and turns back to watch the tryouts, and that one special player right in the middle. just as he wishes you'd come and cheer him up, you glance over, grass stains on your shorts and a new bruise on your knee. as you meet his gaze, the biggest grin splits your face. you wave with your whole arm and taehyung giggles to himself, hiding his warm cheeks behind his knuckles as he lifts one shy hand.

his heart races. for you, he'll keep up this masquerade. this was a dangerous neck of the woods, and he wouldn't let anything steal you away – not even jimin.

he's waiting patiently for you at the edge of the field when you finally manage to break off from your mates. his slim fingers dance lightly over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. as quickly as his touch arrives, it vanishes, his arms once more wrapped around his body like a hug.

"hey," he greets softly.

"hey yourself," you reply, amusement light on your tongue. "i saw you earlier. i hope you didn't get bored watching me chase after a ball like a dog."

he huffs. "what are you saying? dogs are cute. you were cute. i like seeing you bound across the field – you make for some especially tasty eye-candy, sweating and panting like that."

"do i, now?" you say playfully, leaning against the steel fence. he leans in too, matching your smile with a pretty, half-bitten one of his own. his lashes flutter as you tease a kiss, the tip of your nose brushing his cheek. "next thing i know, you'll be begging to lick me up."

he clicks his tongue, turning away from your almost-kiss in half-assed defiance. "tch. here i am, trying to be sweet, and you ruin it all. boys like you have only one thing on their minds."

"hey, you started it! besides, are you telling me you wouldn't wanna taste of my lollipop?" you smirk, gazing at his side profile. he's drop dead gorgeous, all full lips and big eyes, and you could easily while away your days doing nothing but admiring the symmetry of his features.

taehyung rolls his eyes, but there's no heat to it. he sniffs. "you wish. you wouldn't last long enough to enjoy the view."

you place a hand over your heart. "careful, pretty boy, or you and your mean insults could remain part of me for a long, long time. words hurt, you know?"

"what do i have to be careful for? you like me too much to do any lasting damage to me. it's nice, really. nice to know you love me – in your own, silly little way." he pokes your chest, and you catch his hand in yours and lift his knuckles to your lips. the ghost of a kiss shivers over his skin.

"silly?" you parrot, returning his hand to him with a knowing look. you rest your hip against the top of the chain-link fence, casting a glance casually over the field. "you think my acts of love are silly?"

taehyung hums, leaning over and grasping your chin. he turns your face towards him. "'sweet', then – that's probably a better word for it. none of my exes ever did what you do for me. not even close. i'm sorry, baby – please don't pout."

"i'm glaring, actually," you huff. "this is my glaring face."

"don't, you'll get wrinkles," taehyung chides. he glances around, and swiftly, like a little bird, flits up on his toes to press his lips against your cheek. in the blink of an eye, he settles back into place on his side of the fence. he sighs, and a sudden weight slumps his shoulders. you straighten, turning towards him properly.

"he noticed you," he says, his voice lower than usual. "pointed you out to me as a potential boyfriend."

the smile you were wearing drops like a stone. "he did?"

taehyung doesn't trust himself to speak; he nods instead, staring at his shoes.

"well," you say, at a loss for words. "i mean, he's tiny. what's he gonna do to me?"

his head snaps up and the intensity of his gaze catches you off-guard. "don't underestimate him. you can't. he – he can do more than hurt you. he'll ruin you.

"no, no – don't roll your eyes," he snaps. "i know, i sound paranoid, but you haven't even been here for six months. you haven't seen what i've seen." his focus flickers to your surroundings, and he seems uncomfortable even when he leans in to whisper. "please. keep away from him, don't tell anyone about us, and for the love of god, stop visiting my house after curfew. he's whip-smart – he notices it once, he'll catch on like that." he snaps his fingers. "also, we have a change of plans. mark's off the table – jimin wants him."

at that, the corners of your mouth turn down. you cross your arms. "not if i get there first."

"baby – baby, look at me. you can't risk it."

"fuck," you hiss between your teeth. you clear your throat and wipe the expression off your face, flawless neutrality taking its place. it still simmers under your skin, but it's always easier to sweep something under the rug than clean it up. "fine. i can bring a friend over tonight instead. it'll be easy enough – these sheep will follow me anywhere. we can... have him for dinner."

taehyung's eyes glimmer, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. the worry's sloughed off his shoulders for now, and that's as good as you can hope. "i've always loved your lamb steaks. i've been waiting for this – for you. i'll be at yours by seven sharp."

"wear your pretty clothes," you hum almost offhandedly as you survey your fellow students. there's not a care in the world in those empty heads. "something black – and sexy."

taehyung flicks his bangs out of his eyes. "everything i wear is sexy. you'd do well to remember that."

"yes, dear."

—

his hands shake. that oil-heat, sweat-sheen, bone-crunch. his breath rattles through his lungs like the tongue of a too-small bell.

the weight of the kitchen knife in his hand is too much – he lifts it, and it tilts forward dangerously, trembling in his red-wet palm. the silver glimmers and flickers under the yellow shed lights.

a warmth behind him, a sturdy presence – tender hands slide down his arms, tracing him from collarbone to wrist like a delicate porcelain doll. they fold around his slim fingers, big scarred knuckles too worn to be a boxer's – they wear gloves for protection.

"split the skin shallow, so you don't pierce the meat," you murmur, your breath hot against his ear. you guide his hands with your own, slowly pressing down until the pop of released pressure signifies the beginning of the cut. "all the way down, just like that... good. you slip the knife under the skin and peel it back, making a scything or slicing motion to cut the membrane. long, slow strokes to control the angle of the blade. you want the meat nice and lean."

the night is still and silent outside, not a cricket or dog to be heard. the rushing of taehyung's pulse is loud enough for them all. he can feel your excitement against him – the quickened breathing, the thudding heart, the hitched gasp when his grip tightens on the knife and steadies.

"perfect," you croon in his ear, an undercurrent of a growl echoing beneath your words. "take your time. i want your first time to be..."

you shift against him, and he feels something prod his backside. he bites down on the inside of his cheek to silence himself and takes a deep, shaky breath, pressing down with the knife. sinew and muscle part easily under the sharpened blade.

"it's easier," he whispers, barely a breath, "than i thought it would be."

"you're doing very well, but remember, i'm guiding you. you won't find a better person to teach you."

your hands are big and knowledgeable over his own, each arc of the knife steady and precise. the blood warms his skin up to the knuckles, but it pales in comparison to your own, smeared up past your wrists in a deep ruby red. a bucket by the leg of the table is full of gore, intestines wrapped around a bladder and stomach and hacked-off chunks of fat. it was a job too bloody and slippery to give to your pretty shrike.

"this will be your steak," you hum, stroking the heavy, lick-wet cut of meat almost reverentially. you press your lips to his shoulder, then to his temple. he can feel your smile against his skin. "perfect knifework. it's almost as if you've done it before."

"well, it's like you said," taehyung breathes, gently placing it in the metal bowl at the top of the table. a secondary bowl beside it is already filled with some lesser cuts of meat, which you'd done to kill time before his arrival. "there's no better person to teach me."

he turns around in your arms, carefully linking his bloodied fingers behind your head. he noses your jaw, his lips brushing over yours. the strappy black top he wears clings to him like a second skin, and the gap between it and the top of his pants reveals his toned stomach, flexing now as he presses his hips against your thigh. he whines softly as you knock his knees apart and slide your leg between his with a teasing grin.

"no need to play coy, beautiful," you purr, digging your palms into the edge of the table. "if you want it, just ask."

"but where's the fun in that?" he gasps as you nip the soft skin of his neck, canines making reds and purples bloom across his sun-kissed skin. "o-oh – y-you know you shouldn't do that, baby. not so high."

with a furrowed brow, you growl softly, slowly rocking your thigh against him. "rules, rules, rules... why does he dictate your life like this? scared of being tossed aside?"

taehyung shakes his head, his head falling back with a moan. for someone who doesn't like being marked up, he sure does make it easy. he exhales as your breath trails up his throat and over his jaw. "he's not. he doesn't."

"yet you pretend as if we've never met when he's around, and you don't say anything when he forbids you from working with your hands. he thinks you should stay clean and pretty because he likes it that way. he holds you back, and you let him."

you punctuate your words with a fist around his throat, slowly pressing in. the flush that'd dusted his chest and neck while working the knife spreads to the apples of his cheeks, sweet and shy. his breath catches, and he looks up at you through the dark forest of his lashes.

you can almost understand jimin's rules. someone as beautiful as him shouldn't need to mar his skin with stains and calluses. that he still desires it – desires to delve deep into the marrow of mortality, watch it squeeze out between his knuckles – turns your stomach, in sickness or adoration.

"i'm sorry," taehyung nearly whimpers, panting short and shallow as his blood-slick hands scramble at your shoulders and chest. his eyes are black with lust and his pulse throbs under your fingers. "i know. i just don't want to upset him. i care about him."

you don't look away when you grab one of his hands, resting over your heart. you lift his knuckles to your lips and, under the heavy haze of hunger, he watches as you wrap your lips around two of his fingers. your cheeks hollow, and your tongue swirls slowly around each joint, as if savouring more than the iron taste.

he swallows thickly as the hand around his throat shifts, less to choke and more to pull close. his heartbeat thuds at the back of his throat.

pinned between your body and the table, the tiny shed door locked behind you, he realises suddenly what it must feel like to be your prey. you have a visceral animal strength about you, muscles like steel cable wound tight, always on the brink of snapping. only the patience of a tiger in wait keeps the mask from slipping, breaking.

your canines graze his finger, held firm in the heat of your mouth. the look in your eye says it wouldn't take much to release that perfectly wound tension, to let the slick nubs of your teeth open him up.

the look in his eyes invites you to.

eventually, you pull away, a satisfied smile splitting your face. you crush your lips against his, nicking his lower lip, and he moans at the warm iron flooding his mouth. greedily, your tongue laps at the stinging cut.

"fuckin' perfect," you husk, gaze flickering down to the red smeared over his throat and jaw, then further down to the obvious bulge in his pants. you snicker. "hm. need help with that?"

"please." he reaches down, as if to undo the buttons right there and then.

you grab his wrists and tut. "sweetheart, not over our dinner. you know better than that."

he groans. "it's your fault for driving me crazy!"

in response, you just laugh and grab the bowls of steaks. it's a surprisingly light sound even though you were ready to eat him up mere moments ago. "come on, then. we've got all the good cuts already. head in and put these in the fridge; i'll deal with the carcass. i'll be quick, i promise."

"you better be," he mutters, loosening the latch on the door. "i'll kill you otherwise."

when you open the door to your bedroom, halfway through drying your hands on a tea towel, you are greeted by the sight of an angel on your bed, long slender legs spread just for you. you toss the towel onto a nearby chair and lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. you let out a slow, appreciative wolf whistle, smirking when taehyung's eyes snap open and he bolts upright. he relaxes at the sight of you, one hand already slipping back between his thighs.

"you're not much of a gentleman, leaving me alone to entertain myself. you have to make it up to me."

"demanding little thing." you click your tongue, leaving the door open and approaching him on the bed. he leans back against the piled-up pillows, sighing softly as his fingers slip back inside himself. they do so with whorish ease, and the smoky darkness of his gaze is smug.

a challenge, then? you can do that.

your fingers glide over the back of a chair, slow and thoughtful. you drag it to the end of the bed and straighten it to face him. he shivers slightly in the warm night as you take a seat, leaning back and spreading your knees. one hand rests casually on your leg and the other props itself up on the armrest, curled in a loose fist.

he pulls his fingers out slightly. you snicker at the confusion in his flickering gaze. "what are you getting up for? i was just getting comfy."

"i—" he falters. almost indifferently, his fingers glide in and out of himself, keeping himself hard while he gathers his thoughts. "but you promised you'd fuck me tonight... killing always did rile you up, red-blooded beast that you are."

"beast?" you parrot, exaggerating a pout. "aw – and here i was, thinkin' i was more than an impressive cock to you." you run your thumb over your nails, your eyes flicking to his open legs and sticking there as he pulls his fingers out to pump his dick twice, thrice. his hand travels back down. "no. i promised no such thing. after all, you've got a date with your pretty boy tomorrow, yeah? don't want him wondering why you're so loose for him, do you?"

he whimpers softly at the mention of it. his fingers dig deeper inside him, upping the pace, and his cock pulses with need. "n-no... i-i mean, i could just say i got a bigger toy..."

"oh, no, sweetheart – if you like a man, never tell them your toy is bigger than them. 'specially them rich types. they bruise easily." you sigh softly, thumb gliding over the edge of your jawline. his twitching cock blushes under the hunger of your gaze and his hole clenches. "you'll just have to wait it out. patiently."

"but i want you." he gasps, the wet squelch of lube making everything ten times dirtier. his breath quickens and he adds a third finger, shuddering at the stretch. "ah– baby, please, i've already been doing this for ages—"

"i didn't ask you to."

"your fingers are thicker than mine," he whines, eyes growing big and ever-so-slightly teary. he's good, you'll give him that. the slight lip tremble, the shaky breaths. you could make him cry properly. he's always been a pretty crier. you wonder if his eyeliner will run.

he sinks his fingers in until the knuckle and he moans, bucking onto his fingers. "god, won't you just fuck me already? why touch yourself when you can touch me? i can see how hard you are!"

you lift your hand off the bulge in your jeans and undo your belt teasingly, thoughtfully – as if you might take him up on that tasty, tasty offer. you lean back in the chair and exhale softly as you free yourself from the confines of your underwear. your cock taps your stomach and taehyung keens, unable to tear his eyes off of it as you wrap your hand around its base, stroking shallowly.

"w-wait," he gasps, beginning to pull his fingers out, "wait, i wanna – let me—"

"no," you say sharply, movements halting. "sit back. i didn't tell you to stop."

"but i can—"

"taehyung."

he quietens, chastened but obedient. he gnaws on his lower lip as his hand returns to its rightful place. he quivers as he watches your palm smooth over your tip and slide back down, precome bubbling from the slit. he can feel his own smearing over his bare stomach, hotter than his warm skin.

instinct takes over. over and over. over and over.

he's such a good boy for you – he's wasted on a creature like jimin. then again, are you really better than him? just the same, you've denied him his basest needs. to part flesh with steel, impart bliss with lust – you've just dropped one piece of control for another.

no. you can be better. you are better.

taehyung gasps sharply as you all but lunge at him, pinning him to the bed by his throat. his golden hair haloes him on the crumpled white blankets, like a gilded apollo so gently posed against marble. he blinks slowly up at you, eyes soft with worship and dark with desire, and kisses the thumb tracing the cupid's bow of his lips, a hand curled around your wrist. the other reaches for you.

you groan softly as he pumps your cock, twisting his wrist expertly. your belt buckle clinks and he giggles, eagerly reciprocating your greed. he hooks his legs loosely around your thighs.

"and you were the one preaching patience," he hums as you lean away to tug your shirt over your head. it gets tossed into a corner without so much as a glance and taehyung flushes at the view, half-lidded gaze raking every inch of revealed skin like a man starved. "oh..."

"how many times have you seen me shirtless?"

"not enough." he grabs your hand and pulls you into him, his hands locking behind your head and tugging you into a heated kiss. "you're also not bloody enough for my liking."

without waiting for a response, his teeth clamp down in the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the meat is soft and muscle is taut.

pain blooms like a shard of ice, sudden and sharp. a decisive movement, it left no room for bruising. taehyung groans, guttural, and digs his teeth in deeper, if only to keep the wound open for longer. his fingernails print stinging crescents into your biceps and he whimpers, eyes rolling back, as you shove his head into your neck, forcing the blood down his throat.

melting heat and iron, the sharp tang dissolving into sweetness – his tongue laps at the oozing wound, the arc of his teeth imprinted forever into your skin until the white of your bones will gleam under the midday sun.

when you allow him to pull away, his eyes are black, dazed and blissful. he smiles from ear to ear, teeth red and stained down the chin and throat, and crushes his lips against yours, tangling your hair in his grip and moaning sinfully loudly. his cock throbs, crushed between your bodies, and he bucks against your shaft, the vein on the underside catching against the ridge of your tip with a shuddering bolt of pleasure.

"i'm yours! i'm yours, all yours," he whispers fervently, obsessively. his tongue swipes over his lower lip, the oily heat marking him just like a sheep bloodying the muzzle of a wolf.

he smiles. he laughs. he presses your foreheads together, his stomach slick with his orgasm, and kisses you again, this time sitting upright in your arms.

"you're good to me. so, so good to me." he leaves the print of his lips against your throat and jaw like a jealous girlfriend, your own blood a perfect valentines' red. "fuck me – please? or i could suck you off, if you're still worried about tomor—oh!"

you flip him over and pull his hips towards you, slotted perfectly between your thighs. his own shine with excess lube and you push your cock between his plush thighs, thrusting impatiently to coat it. over his shoulder, he watches, wide-eyed, as you drag a few fingers up your chest towards your shoulder – towards the red bite mark leaking down your chest.

you smear the blood on your cock. taehyung's core throbs – his back arches. he nearly screams as you yank him onto your cock, burying yourself hilt-deep in not-enough thrusts. his mouth falls open as the burn sears its way up his spine and caresses his brain. he swears he can feel you in his throat.

"fuck! fu-fuck," he burbles, crying out as you set a steady pace, your hips slapping against his ass. you push his knees together with your own and his eyes show their whites, mouth open in a perpetual moan. he buries the chants into the pillow, staining it with blood, and his knuckles whiten around fistfuls of blanket as your cock scrapes his insides so deliciously, stabbing and thudding against his prostate. "fuck, oh my god, fuckfuckfuck—!"

you click your tongue, gaze glued to the point where you meet. "you've got a mouth on you, haven't ya? should fuck you until you forget how to talk. that'll clean you right up, nice and ready for your little boytoy. would you like that, sweetheart?"

"fuck, daddy, please, yes please," he whines, letting the pillow swallow the rest of his sounds. the ricochet of skin on skin echoes loudly in the cosy bedroom, and his cock throbs as it swings between his creamy thighs. shit, you could watch the ripple of his ass until the day you died, and none of it would be wasted time. you're beginning to suspect he has a stronger hold on you than you thought.

your shoulder stings like a bolt of clarity and you growl, grabbing and pulling his hips to meet your thrusts. he whimpers at the sound. "what an obedient pup. a little eager, but i s'pose that's normal, given that tonight was your first time." you huff and slap his thigh, making him yowl and his hips jerk. "wasted, you are. such steady hands. i could use someone like you."

"y-yes, yes, use me – ah, ah – love being used! mmn—!"

"not quite what i was saying, but i'll let it slide." you slam your hips into him and he chokes on it, letting his head falls limply to the pillow. he hasn't felt your cock in so, so long – he can't believe he'd almost forgotten how good it felt, how it filled him up just right to knock his brains out. you gripped him so tightly, too, as if he might get up and leave at any time – but you should know by now that he'll always be the one running back to you, that sick glint in your eye only making him swoon harder.

you had a few bad habits, sure. a few dark fantasies. but so did taehyung. and now he had your blood in him – your essence, the purest part of you – which could never be taken away, even if the elders found out about your relationship. they could take you, but not the part of you that you'd planted deep inside him. they'd never be able to dig it all out. you were a rot to their perfectly-tended garden, and taehyung wouldn't let you be cut out so easily – not when you were so sweet on the tongue.

he licks his lips, the faint taste of what remains fluttering his heart. he'd been careless with his moans, the cries of your name like a prayer. he found so many little deaths with you, and the best ones came screaming.

suddenly, emptiness – you pull away, hand slipping out of his. you halt, stiller than the dead.

hoarsely, taehyung whispers your name, a whine on the tip of his tongue. "n-no... so close, was so close, please..." he turns around.

his heart drops like a stone.

"hello," says jimin, in a voice like silk.

"baby, put the knife down," taehyung stammers, all pleasure doused by the sight of that too-big blade pressed up against your throat. "don't."

"why should i?" he adjusts it, nicking a fine pink line beneath your ear. red beads along it like a string of pearls. "he's a killer. he must be cleansed, same as the rest."

unconsciously, taehyung wipes his mouth, as if your influence on him could be removed so easily. he can still feel the heat of it pulsing against his lips. "but he's mine."

you roll your eyes, hands open and half-raised. of all the things he could've said...

yet, it seems to give him pause. the kitchen knife almost loosens – almost. he tugs your hair roughly, punishingly, and you grunt as the blade whispers against your skin. you have half a mind to teach him a bloody hard lesson, but taehyung might not like that.

"wait!" taehyung darts forward, hand outstretched. he slumps on the bed in front of jimin, gripping the sheets. "how – how did you find us?"

"i followed your ex," jimin replies, observing the wet blood painting half of your chest. the red against your skin is rather pretty... and it's in the shape of taehyung's teeth. "this mark is good at covering his tracks. not so much for those of others."

taehyung's eyes widen. no. you promised to stay away from his ex! then again, he never did see the face of the meat he was cutting up... and you weren't one to be one-upped by the likes of jimin.

"he's not a mark," he pleads, "not officially. he could join us! how many people has he already killed? how long did it take for you to realise? you only found him because he was too rash with this one."

jimin's eyes narrow. "all that tells me is that he grew cocky and let his guard down."

"the mark was cruel to me. he did it for me," taehyung implores, his eyes earnest. "he loves me. and i love him. put down the knife. initiate him."

you frown. initiate?

for a long time, jimin says nothing. he doesn't move.

he lifts the knife. taehyung's eyes widen.

he raises his hands in surrender. he huffs and crosses his arms, drumming his fingers against his arm as he cocks a hip. his skirt and knitted vest give him the impression of a private-school kid, although the short sleeves of the dress shirt seem a touch too tight to be unaltered. he wears a shiny pair of tall, heeled mary janes, but you hadn't heard him until the knife was at your throat. odd.

"fine," he drawls, eyeing you with a slight curl to his upper lip. "you have two minutes to convince me. you're so lucky i like you, tae. wh—i mean, why do you even care? you said he wasn't your type."

"well," he searches carefully for the right words, "things change. and he fucks me the way i like it. you can't tell that from a glance."

jimin's gaze strays briefly downwards, over the shine of blood and flexing muscle. you're still hard, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your lips twitch up into a smirk. you adjust your undone jeans and cross your arms.

eventually, jimin steps closer, reaching out curiously to prod at the bite mark. ruby red oozes, and he watches closely as your eyes flutter briefly shut. his tongue glides over his glossy lower lip. "hm... but he's still a killer. i don't know what makes him more useful to me alive."

it's as if a lightbulb flashes over taehyung's head.

he leans forward, resting a hand on your thigh. he tilts his head against your hip. "maybe you can... try him. see from my perspective."

"i'm not getting on my knees," jimin scowls immediately, "not for a sinner."

"but you don't mind it when i do?"

jimin opens his mouth. he closes it. he throws his hands in the air, knife waving around carelessly. "we're not the same! i'm already doing you a kindness by letting him live this long. i should be flaying him right now for tainting your body with his filth. you're supposed to be pure. unsullied."

"pure?" you repeat, scoffing. you can only stay quiet for so long. "oh, you lot are crazy-crazy. worse than me."

his eyes narrow and his knuckles whiten on the knife handle. taehyung shoves himself between you, gripping your hand in his own. "no! stop it, both of you! if you kill each other, who's gonna take care of me? i'm still hard."

he's the perfect height for you. you prop your chin on his shoulder with a lazy grin, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. you play with his cock, making his breath stutter. "you're right as always, sweetheart... how cruel is he for cockblocking you? you deserve everything in the world and more..."

jimin's fingers twitch. taehyung bucks shallowly against you, but you keep him firmly in place as you stroke his cock, already sensitive. you kiss his neck. you haven't taken your eyes off of jimin.

he presses his thighs together as taehyung lets out a soft whimper.

"come on, sweet thing," you croon into his ear, cupping his chest and grazing his nipple. "don't you want my cock?"

gulping, he tries not to show how affected he is by the hardness pressing against his ass. "a-ah, um..."

"what was that?" you flick your wrist roughly and taehyung's eyes shoot open. blood fills his mouth from a bitten cut in his cheek.

nervously, he lifts his eyes to jimin's. his gaze is fixed on your hand and the way it engulfs taehyung's cock, flicking over his slit and grazing the veins with your nails. "i want – i w-want..."

"say it, tae."

the words come not from your lips, but jimin's. two fingers slip into taehyung's ass and he jolts with a sweet moan as you curl them.

"i want your cock," he rushes out in one breath. "fuck, i want it so bad."

"even more than your boyfriend's?" your words are sly, coated in a thick layer of faux innocence. "why?"

taehyung doesn't bother answering. you know the answer – so does jimin. he turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands, bringing you down for a desperate, hungry kiss. you thrust your fingers into his hole and he jerks, clamping down around you. you swallow his moans, pumping your fingers teasingly.

"i wonder," you drawl, kissing a trail up taehyung's neck, "if he likes watching. maybe that's why he doesn't want to date you. he wants to sit back and watch as other men ruin your pretty little body – after all, it's hard to enjoy the faces you make when preoccupied with doing all the real work."

the sharp intake of breath and the way he clenches around you tells you what you want to hear. he looks up at you with those dark, dark eyes, his breath quick and shallow, and leans into it when you sit him down on the bed with a creak. swiftly, he turns over, arching his back and wiggling his ass. he gazes back at you with huge eyes as you remove your pants. he's almost shy – though the twitching cock leaking down his thigh is anything but. red and angry, it demands attention.

you glance at jimin. the knife's still in his hand, but the thought of it seems secondary to the sight of taehyung on his hands and knees. you can hardly blame him.

from the edge of the bed, you grab the bottle of lube taehyung had brought with him. you slather a generous amount onto your cock and push a few fingers into taehyung with the remnants, exhaling softly as he pushes his hips back against your knuckles.

"my perfect boy." you scissor your fingers, then slide them out. "c'mon – don't be shy. show your dear jimin how well i stretch you out."

he glances your way sharply. you're already staring at him, grinning in the airheaded, cocky, handsome way that all popular boys seem to know intrinsically. the soft lips, the blood, the way you manoeuvre taehyung's body around yours as if he's a prop to make you look better... every jock knows that rising in the ranks means he needs to talk louder than the next guy, take up more space than the next guy, have prettier girls on his arms than the next guy. they say confidence is key, but that's only good at pool parties where nobody wants to really call anyone's bluff.

you're the only one who does it right. you're the only one with a cock to match that body.

taehyung exhales shakily as he reaches back and parts his asscheeks, fingers digging harder than necessary into the plump meat. he hides his burning face in the sheets as jimin steps closer, and his breath quickens as you tap your cock against his ass, teasing his hole with your tip.

"cute, isn't he? surprisingly sweet, too. thought he'd be more of a brat when i first saw him," you hum, casually stuffing your cock into him in one smooth movement. taehyung yelps and lets out a quivery little moan, his slick walls clenching around your thick cock. he sounds like he's trying not to cry – you sigh patiently and pet his hair before your hands return to their rightful places on his hips to pull him onto you.

his body jolts with each thrust, his muffled cries breathy and whiny. his ass ripples with the slap of your hips. on a particularly rough thrust which has him seeing stars, he whimpers out a "daddy" that has jimin's breath hitching audibly.

"good, baby," you husk, palms gliding down his body appreciatively. you slap his ass – so hard your palm stings – and he chokes, already-wobbly knees giving out beneath him. he catches himself just in time but the angle has your cock driving deeper inside him, oscillating wildly from kissing his prostate to fucking his brain out his ears.

you grab a fistful of his hair and loom over him, your lips brushing his earlobe. his spine arches when you tug roughly, his eyes rolling to show their whites as your cock throbs inside him, each thrust wet and slick. "tell him how you feel, whore," you murmur, soft but loud enough for your voice to carry. he gasps sharply at the title and his aching cock leaks like a faucet into a puddle of his own precome. he shakes his head, embarrassment hot in his core.

you tilt your head. "maybe i'll even let you suck him off."

"it f-feels good," he cries immediately. the quick, precise slapping of skin on skin echoes in the room. "i love your cock! i love tay-taking cock, love being fucked by big cocks – oh god! – 'n' yours is the biggest! love getting stretched wide on your dick, getting fucked 'til it hurts—! i-i never wanna come off, mm, i love being your cockslut – wanna be your bitch, your toy, all yours—" you bury yourself balls-deep in his guts and his mouth falls open, thick white come spurting from his tip; it's almost humiliating how you can make him finish without a single brush against his dick. he smiles, broad and wobbly. "ohhh..."

you peck his cheek, pressing against his back low and heavy like an animal. you grip his jaw. "coming already? don't go passing out on me," you chide, tilting his head in jimin's direction. "look at him. look. there we go. see how hard he is? he must like how obedient you get with me – with your daddy."

heat floods his body to the marrow. you've never used that title on yourself before – it's always been taehyung's thing, something you don't mind only because it's him. the raking burn of pleasure hurts, blooming from his cock all the way up his spine and out to his fingers and toes.

possession. it spins in taehyung's jumbled mind. you fuck him like you want to bruise your name inside him, forcing him to think of you and only you even when jimin sits on that chair in front of him, a perfectly manicured hand wrapped around his leaking length, just begging to be touched.

briefly, taehyung wonders how you might fuck jimin. he's giving you his infamous bedroom eyes, but there's an acrid darkness that taints his gaze. jealousy? inadequacy? scorn? taehyung's thighs are hot and sticky.

maybe you'd be rougher with him, tie him up and fold him in half with his legs over your shoulders. even as he distantly obeys your whispered order to open his mouth, and even as jimin slides his velvety cock between his lips, he can't stop imagining you behind jimin, manhandling him and forcing him to ride you to get off, even though jimin's such a pillow princess.

you grip taehyung's hips, sweat shining on your skin. you spread his ass and thrust deeper, smirking when he jerks forward, choking down the rest of jimin's dick and ripping a pleasured curse from his throat.

taehyung's limbs feel like jelly. he braces against jimin's hip, hooking his thumb under the hem of jimin's skirt to pin it back. as he sinks down on his cock, he chances a glance up.

rid of his little sweater vest and unbuttoned down to the navel, jimin does very little to chase his high. he meets taehyung's eyes and tilts his head slightly – he's almost perfectly still, and the only thing he does is gather his skirt in a fist. your quick, snapping pace sets taehyung's, and it's only by the blown pupils and pink-tinged cheeks that taehyung knows he's doing well.

"so," you begin, and your voice is remarkably steady. "did you come here intending to kill me?"

"please, i barely know who you are. there are others—" his breath catches, and he closes his eyes to steady himself "—others who're more deserving of atonement than you. which isn't to say i thought you a paragon of virtue – you're a handsome guy on a sports team, and sin comes to your type like moths to a flame. i knew i'd come to collect eventually, but you surprised me. congrats – not many can."

"did you watch?" you ask, patting taehyung's ass almost fondly. "he did so well with the – what did you call him? your mark? did you see how beautiful he looked, nearly orgasmic as he cut him open and warmed his hands with his blood? you must enjoy it, too – seeing the life fade from your victims' eyes. otherwise, you would've culled me the moment i took your kill."

his eyes narrow. "you're sick."

you laugh. "y'know, you and your little 'cult' aren't slick. i saw how pretty girls and guys don't shy away from the forest or the nasty parts of town because what they can do far outweighs the shard of glass a cokehead waves around. i thought it was a creative writing exercise gone crazy, something to explain the unusual disappearances around here. it was good for me, though. nobody'll raise a fuss if one more douchebag goes missing."

"i should kill you now."

"but then sweet little taehyung would be upset – you heard him." you pout. "besides, you must've liked something about me or you would've gotten rid of me as soon as i ravaged your favourite boytoy. do you have a thing for corruption? is that why you stayed, watched him come as soon as he tasted my blood? if you like, i'll let him bite the other side."

he pulls taehyung's throat down on his cock by his hair. taehyung eagerly laps up every throbbing inch he receives, nails digging into jimin's ass. he jolts and gags slightly as hot come pours down his throat without warning – his eyes flutter shut as his throat bobs, lips pressed against jimin's base.

"oh, i like you," you purr, something of a song lilting your voice. "are you as angry when you take cock, i wonder?"

"try it, i dare you."

you turn your attention to taehyung, who sits jimin's cock in his mouth like a good boy. he suckles softly, dazed and faraway. his walls are soft and hot, each gummy ridge stroking and clamping around you to pull you in as deep as possible when you finally, finally come, forcing him over the precipice as well for the nth time that night.

you pet his hair and he leans into it, moaning as you gently pull out, letting him sink into the mattress. thick come drips down his inner thigh, pooling in the dips of the bed. softly, you groan, gathering yourself and lavishing kisses upon kisses over his neck and shoulder. "what do you think, baby? should i fuck the cultist freak?"

taehyung pops off wetly, licking his lips. his chest heaves. it's hard to scoop his brain up off the floor, but the thought of the two people hottest people he knows putting on a show, all for him? "p-please..."

you raise your eyes, and meet jimin's glare with a smirk. "you heard him. don't wanna disappoint, do we?"

"you think you deserve to fuck me? after everything you've done? you don't even kill for a reason," he scoffs. "you're no better than an animal."

"what is it with you and prettyboy here thinking i'm less than human? you cower behind your righteous moral justifications when you take a life and hold me to the same standards, but animals don't have morals. i can only be one, baby, so choose."

jimin glowers.

"you've got me in a box," he admits eventually, and his expression twists as your smile turns gloating. "shut up. you can fuck me – just this once."

"those are dangerous gambling words," you tease, but lay back against the headboard, one hand behind your head and the other wrapping around the base of your cock. your absence above him makes taehyung blink – hard – before he shuffles after you like a sleepy puppy and buries his face in your shoulder.

his thighs still twitch every now and again, and he lifts his unfocussed gaze to meet jimin's. it clears, just enough, for a fat, satisfied grin to spread across his face and he shifts to spread his shaky legs, showing off the warm glazed mess between his thighs like a piece of art.

jimin's cock throbs. taehyung grins lazily, knowingly, eyes half-lidded and hungry. he slides your slick cock between the vee of his fingers and flicks his wrist. a pearl of precome beads along your slit and follows the line of a vein, gathering eventually along taehyung's slender finger.

unwise, a voice whispers in his head, regal and maternal, yet youthful.

with a sigh too breathy to be accidental, taehyung splays his fingers over his lips and tilts his head back, taking one finger at a time against his scarlet tongue to clean it. his lashes graze his cheeks. his eyes are black corridors of velvet, and he gives jimin's invisible leash a tug with a curl of his pretty fingers.

it was never that taehyung made it too hard to say no. he made it far too easy to say yes.

#no one look at my lack of header please i'll fix it soon i just lost my hdd with the files </3 #top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #top reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut #bottom jimin #jimin x male reader #jimin smut

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ihavethedreamies · 10 months ago

Text

Ride a Tiger | San [NSFW]

Choi San - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~6.2k

Pairing: Tiger-Hybrid!San x Deer-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Married

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Breeding Kink, Bath/Water Sex, Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Monster(?)!San (not really, he's a tiger hybrid)

Author's Note: Just so you know, this is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a spiny tiger cock. This is vaguely set in the Joseon Era of Korea, which is a pretty long time range. It is after the creation of hangul, so its post 1600s about. I only know a lot of this stuff from, and am copying from, historical/period dramas. I know in a lot of ways they aren't completely accurate, especially with women going around and not covering their heads/faces. This is not supposed to be accurate, by any means. Let me know if something is horribly wrong.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, or this post.

"He who rides a tiger is afraid to dismount." ~Chinese Proverb

-> Series Hub <-

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐕 Yeosang's 🐕

🐻 Jongho's 🐻

Revised (1/31/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

When you heard thunder rumbling in the distance earlier, you didn’t think anything of it. You’d be done before the rain comes! Nope. You scramble to gather all of the books you laid out at your stand, getting them under the surface so they won’t get damaged. A giant flash of light followed closely by clap of thunder startles you, and you bleat, your long furry ears pressing back against your hair. Your short tail under your hanbok twitches, slightly rustling the fabric it lays under. Once all of the books you’re selling are safe, you grab the sseugaechima you have and sling it over your head, stepping back toward the building you’re in front of. It’s some kind of accessories shop, but the roof awning is quite short and so you’re barely able to hide from the downfall underneath it. People scramble on the street to flee to rain, and the few of them that have coverings continue on their way normally. You peek out from under your own covering, observing the sky best you can. It’s clearly not going to end anytime soon; it’s just that time of the year. You have no idea how you’re going to get all the books back to your house. Your father doesn’t mind you working to copy and sell books for the local seller, but he won’t let you establish your own business. The seller you work for also doesn’t have a store front himself and so the two of you sell at stalls in the market.

You decide to wait just a bit longer, wondering if the shop owner of the building behind you will let you store the books for a bit. The street has more or less cleared out, but you watch a nobleman come closer. His clothes are nice, even nicer than yours, so his status is probably much higher. The gat he wears is adorned with a silk strap and the beading is clearly finely made as well. As you look over him, the belt tying his hanbok accentuates his narrow waist and wide shoulders. Your eyes travel up to his face and he’s stunning. But also…he has tiger ears. As he gets closer, you catch a glimpse of his long tail. Definitely a tiger. It’s incredibly likely that the guy is not just nobility, he’s possibly one of the princes. There are like eight of them so that isn’t too unlikely. Despite the downfall, he’s simply strolling down the street, almost likes there isn’t any rain. Since you’re one of the few people still outside, he stops in front of your seemingly empty stall. He lifts his head, and his eyes meet yours and you feel them widen. Instinct flares to life, your deer-like genes screaming at the sight of the predatory gaze. It isn’t that he’s trying to scare or threaten you, he just simply is a predator hybrid, and you a prey.

"Have you nowhere to go to escape the rain?" He’s definitely of high status, with not just tone but the exact words he uses. You nod dumbly, back pressing to the stone foundation of the building behind you. The sseugaechima over your head covers your deer-like ears and your tail is completely hidden by your hanbok.

"I-I have books to sell, and I don’t want them to get wet." You point under the stall, and at the crate that holds your wares. He makes an 'ah' of acknowledgement. You wonder why he feels the need to stop at an empty stall.

"You might have to wait a while for the rain to stop." He looks up at the sky. You sigh, knowing he’s right.

"Do you want me to help?" He offers and you flinch. Really?

"If you wish, my lord." You bow a bit, and he huffs.

"Shh. Pretend I'm not that important." His smile is much softer than you expected from a tiger. You nod, not able to speak and he comes around and you drag the crate out, ready to use the sseugaechima to cover it.

"Use this." He corrects, taking the cloth that you’d laid out on the wooden stall, and you wonder how frazzled you are that you forgot about it. He tucks the edges of the fabric over the books and easily lifts the crate. You move around him so you can start to lead him home and you feel tense the whole time. Negating that he’s a tiger and you a deer, he’s clearly a nobleman, and he’s doing physical work…Then again, you’re technically a noble yourself, and a female at that. Finally getting to the entrance for your family's estate, the gate is open already and you wave for one of your father's guards to come and help. The guard takes the crate from the tiger, bowing deep in respect and then dashes off to put your wares in your quarters.

"Thank you, my lord." You bow again, sseugaechima still covering your head.

"San." he adds, and your brow furrows trying to wonder why he’s talking about a mountain. Then it hits you, it’s his name, he is one of the princes!

"Oh, yes, your highness. (Y/N)." You introduce yourself as well, staying bowed and making sure not to look at his face.

"Get inside and out of the rain Lady (Y/N)." He smiles and your eyes flit to his gorgeous face. You bow deeper then dash further into the courtyard and book it to your quarters.

~θωθ~

Looking up at the clear blue sky, you squint at the tiny white cloud you can see. It had rained for nearly four days straight and therefore you couldn’t set up your stall for that long. You don’t really have need for money since your father is…well, rich, but he doesn’t just give you pocket money to buy stuff for yourself. It’s because you want books that aren’t normally what noble women would read, you know, like things you can actually learn from. You’ve read more than your fair share of romances and adventures from copying them. After you’ve set out the final pile of books, you look at your hand and rub your finger over the callus you got from holding the brush. Yes, it’s painstaking, but you’re extremely glad that you can use hangul, it would take ten times longer if you had to use hanja. Right as you get done setting up, two women stroll up and you continue your day.

About an hour before you’d get ready to go home, you note that you’ve done well for the day and have only about six books left, each a different one. Since it had slowed, you’re sitting on a stool, people watching the few that are wandering around. It’s nearing the evening mealtime, and you can smell the food from the restaurant down the road on the corner. Your stomach rumbles and you sigh deeply, ears drooping. You start to zone out a bit, watching some birds on the ground, not looking up when someone stops.

"What is this one like?" the man asks, and you finally look up so you can see which book he’s pointing to.

"Hm, something about a servant seducing a nobleman's son…" You sniff and look up at the guy and startle. It’s that prince from before! Even if you hadn't carved his face into your memory, it’s a bit obvious from his tiger ears right under the brim of his gat. You immediately stand and bow, and he looks around quickly.

"It's fine, I'm trying to lay low." He waves you off and your eyes catch sight of the black claw-like nails on the end of each finger. You risk glancing up at his face and he’s smiling, dimples indenting his cheeks, your eyes focus on his large canine teeth. You feel your tail flick a few times, your skirt ruffling a bit. You feel his eyes moving over your face and your ear flicks at well, nervous under the gaze of his golden colored eyes. You freeze when his arm moves, hand coming up and your eyes follow the movement till you can’t see, and you feel a little tug on your earring.

"These aren't real." He makes note of it, and you cringe. You had wanted real jade earrings, but you didn’t have enough money, and so you had to settle with those instead. Your father might have bought those for you, but you really wanted them right then and there. You aren’t even sure what they’re actually made of.

"N-no." You bow your head, and he lets them go.

"When do you leave?" His question startle you and your ear flicks again.

"In about an hour."

"Don't leave till I get back." He tells you and he heads off further down the market road, back the way he came. You blink after him, eyes wide, wondering what the heck that was all about.

You do as he asked though and wait for him to return. Glancing up at the sky, you have another ten minutes or so and he still isn’t back. If you didn’t know he was one of the princes, you’d have left, but he told you to stay. You still hadn't sold the rest of your books despite a few people stopping by, and so you start to put them in the crate. Looking down into the mostly empty container, you look to the side and see him coming. Even at a distance you can see his smile when he notices you’re still there, and he jogs to meets you sooner.

"You stayed."

"Well, you said to." You shrug, not looking at his face. Part of it’s because of his status, but it’s also because he’s so handsome. Too handsome, actually. You wonder if all the princes are so. You watch as he pulls something out from the interior pocket of his jeogori, a small but detailed wooden box coming out. He holds it out to you, and you hesitated to grab it.

"Go ahead." He waves his arm a bit and you gently take it with both hands, lifting the hinged lid. You gasp, looking at the earrings inside. They look nearly identical to yours, but they’re obviously real jade.

"W-what?" You have to look at his face then, see what his expression is for some sort of explanation. His cheeks are a tiny bit red, and his own ear flicks some and you can see his long striped-tail swaying behind him.

"Your Lord Bak's daughter, from the Saseum Clan?"

"Y-yes?" He smiles a bit bashfully, looking down as he swings his leg around, drawing a circle with his foot.

"Can you take me to talk to him?" You nod jerkily, a little shocked at the request. Before you can grab the crate, he takes it, and you ball up the cloth from the stall and shove it on top of the books. You walk next to him as you head toward your home, feeling a bit weird, like you should be following him. You’ve never directly interacted with a prince before him, but you still know the basic rules. Don't look at his face, walk behind him, don't be physically higher than him, speak formally… Yes, he’s trying to lay low, but that doesn’t change who he is. You wonder who is genuinely ignorant enough to not know who he is though since he’s so obviously a tiger hybrid. When you show up to the house with the same man carrying your book crate as the time before, your father's guard is a little skeptical. He still takes the crate from the prince- San, his name is San, you remember.

"Can you please get Lord Bak?" He asks and the guard's gaze flicks to you, and you give a short nod. As he goes to do so, you stand with the prince awkwardly, swaying just a bit so your skirt twirls a bit around you. Your ears are twitching so much that your old, fake earring jingles. Your arm twist around your back so your hand can tug on the end of your braid, a nervous habit.

"(Y/N)? Who is this?" Your father comes around the corner, strolling down the stone-paved path toward both of you. He glances at San, and you cringe slightly at how much smaller your father is than him. His jeongjagwan is modified to fit around his antlers, only that puts him at the same height as the prince.

"I am Prince San, Lord Bak. I have come to ask permission to court your daughter for marriage." You balk at this, turning to gape at him directly. Your head turns back to your father whose gaze has sharpened. You know that there’s a lot of noblemen that have brought their sons as potential suitors, and your parents have turned down every single one. Will San be different? You’re lucky that your parents do takes into consideration your opinion on most things.

"You are the fifth eldest, no?"

"Yes."

"Are your parents aware of your request?"

"Not yet, though I have been given more freedom since I am far down in the line of succession." It seems the men are having another conversation through their eyes.

"Is that why you’d be allowed to marry a prey hybrid?" The prince falters for a reply, it seems he hadn’t even taken that part into consideration.

"I will need to request an audience with his highness." Your father answers and San seems to deflate.

"What do you think of this?" Your father turns to look at you and you cast a nervous glance at the tiger next to you. You know that you’ll have very little say in reality, and you wish you lived about a thousand years earlier. You know, before Confucianism ruined feminism. Though, the prince seems to be very sweet, and he’s extremely attractive. It could be way worse.

"If my lord finds it auspicious." You bow your head a bit and your father hums.

"Why don't you go back inside, (Y/N)?" The request is more of a command than a suggestion and you scurry off to do so. As you enter, your mother comes down the hall and you meet her.

"Geez, mother…" You lead her to spin around, and she does, though with a confused look. Adjusting her binyeo so it’s setting in her bun evenly, she then turns back to face you.

"Were you speaking with someone?" She peeks around you so she can look out the window, but she can’t see.

"A suitor…" You tell her and her long, furry ears perk up.

"I shall see then," she nudges past you and goes to go out and you huff a sigh, heading back to your room.

"(Y/N), your father requests your presence in the courtyard." A handmaiden comes to summon you, and you get up from your floor desk to follow her out. Your father is not alone, Prince San standing with him. It was only three days prior that your father had an audience with the king, and since the prince is there…

"Yes, father?" You come out and stop before them, bowing at the waist some.

"It seems that it is auspicious…" Your father tosses a glance at the prince, and you look up at both of them. Your gaze going to the tiger's handsome face, and he’s beaming.

~^ω^~

The next few weeks are a blur and before you know it you’ve gone through the marriage ceremony, and you’re moved into his own little palace that belongs to the greater palace grounds. Since he’s one of the younger princes you share a palace, whereas the queen and the crown princess have their own places. There’s a place as well for any consorts that the royals might have as well, but it seems San requested you to live with him. Honestly, you think it quite impersonal for a husband and wife not to share a room and bed each night, but that seems to be the norm for royalty. When you learn that even princes sometimes have consorts, you got a little insecure. What if you alone aren’t enough?

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" San's voice catches your attention, and you turn to him as he enters. You’ve been standing in the middle of the room, just looking over everything, the room fairly barren compared to the overall size.

“I was just…” You stop, trying to think of how to word it. He hums for you to continues.

“I was just trying to soak in everything I’ve been told to learn.” You lie, not ready to bring the subject up quite yet. Your head is pounding from all the new information you’ve been pumped full with and you’re nervous about messing up. Luckily since you were a noble already, you knew most of the rules and practices, but you’re going to be under a bit harsher scrutiny. Not a bit, a lot. Your head feels strange, having your long braid looped up into a chignon braid, the jade binyeo holding it up making it feel heavier. The cheopji sitting on the middle of the top of your head is heavy as well, since it’s gold. Your hanbok is of much higher quality and you feel nervous about getting it messy or torn somehow.

"(Y/N)?" He calls your name again and you snap out of your tumbling thoughts.

"Why did your eldest brother step down as heir?" You finally remember the question you’ve been wanting to ask him, before your insecurities start to spiral. You’d heard some of the other women talking about it but don’t want to rely on gossip.

"Hm. The woman he fell in love with was too low in status. He abdicated so he could marry her. That's why Hongjoong is the crown prince."

"I see. The eldest is Seonghwa, yes?" San hums and you sigh, racking your brain for all the names you’ve learned. There are too many. Finally, you look over San…your husband. Just the thought makes you a bit giddy. Even though it hasn't been very long since you two met, maybe about two months, you have endeared to each other. He’s so sweet, contrasted greatly with the normal thoughts of how tigers are. Then again, he’s a hybrid, not a full tiger. He’s in a much different ensemble than what you met him in, more princely clothes. He doesn’t have any kind of headwear on then, just his manggeon and you can see the streak of orange and white in his hair to the right of the center of his head.

"Are you nervous?" he asks and your ears flick. Not really sure what he’s talking about, you just nod. You are, but you aren’t for sure in what way he means. He steps forward and his hands find your waist, your own landing on his chest. San pulls you closer and your ears press back against your head. Your nervous habit of tugging on your braid is going to have to be replaced since it’s no longer hanging down your back. You let out a noise similar to a bleat when he hauls you even closer, his nose nuzzling against your ear.

"We get to make it official." he whispers and what he’s getting at finally hits you. The consummation of the marriage. You’re nervous, and a bit worried as well. You were told that predators have a much more aggressive…mating process. Plus, apparently, tiger hybrids are much likes real tigers, and have 'barbs' on their… You’re in your own thoughts; you can say whatever; they have barbs on their cocks. Plus, you’re a good 30 centimeters shorter than your husband and he’s just big overall. Your hands on his chest fist, digging your fingers into the fabric and you squeak when the claws on his hands dig into your own clothes enough you feel them against your hips. You shudder as his slightly rough tongue runs up the side of your throat. Your heart rate spikes, nearly taking your breath away, some primal part inside of you freaking out.

"Your high-"

"It's just us, call me San."

"San, I-"

"Your highness!" A eunuch calls from the other side of the door, and you pull back. He reluctantly lets you remove yourself from him and you turn away from the door as he turns toward it. He allows the servant in, and you’re informed that the bathing chambers are ready. After the eunuch steps out and the handmaidens are waiting outside patiently, San goes back to you.

"Why don't we be efficient and take a bath together?" He wraps his arms around you from behind and you’re sure he feels your tail wag nervously even through the layers of fabric you both have on.

"C-can we?"

"Hm. I don't see why not. Not exactly traditional, but…I can get away with a lot." He chuckles and you feel it rumble through his chest pressed to your back. When he finally pulls back, you turn to him, face warm and he grins.

"So cute." He nuzzles your ear again and then comes back, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It’s your first kiss as a married couple, not that you haven't stolen a few leading up to that point. This one is different though and he nearly growls as he deepens the kiss. You squeak, it’s like he’s trying to eat you, and the obvious comparison is not lost on you. His tongue is rough against yours when it wiggles into your mouth and your head swims when his large canines clacked against your much smaller ones. When his lips let yours go, a trail of saliva connects your mouths, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Go with the handmaidens and get ready, I'll join after." San presses another kiss to your cheek and allows you to leave his embrace. You stop in front of the door, looking back at him again as the servant on the other side opens the door. He smiles warmly and you bite your lip giddily and then follow the maids to the bathing chamber. They carefully remove your garments and take your hair down, so it’s still just in a braid, you don’t need to wash it yet. You’re left in a simple white sokchima, not ready to be fully disrobed since San is still to come in. You hear his own servants getting him ready in the adjoining room and as soon as your maids leave, the side door opens. He steps in, closing it behind him and you gasp, eyes widening. Speaking of wide…his shoulders are so broad, especially compared to his waist. It’s fairly obvious even when he’s clothed, but right then he only has a pair of white sokbaji. His torso is toned as well and your mouth, still hanging open, starts to water. Well, not really, but you’re close. Feeling very small and delicate under his intense gaze, it softens when he notices your shoulders are tense.

"Come here." San coos, coming to meet you halfway and you let him hug you again, not able to help yourself placing your hands on his bare chest. His skin is smooth, and his muscles are hard and your thighs clench as you practically stroke him. He chuckles and your eyes flit up to his, ears flopping they’re twitching so hard. His tail is sticking out the back of his pants, swaying slightly, his ears drooping just a bit.

"Can I take this off, (Y/N)?" The prince's voice is quiet but deep in your ear and his hands grip the back of your sokchima.

"Y-yes." You do feel the amount of clothes is fairly unequal, but your final garment being removed will leave you completely bare. Shivering a tad as he pulls the tie open, the straps of the undergarment fall from your shoulders, then the rest of the fabric onto the floor. Your arms go to cover yourself, but his hands stop you. Your face is hot, almost on fire and you can’t meet his gaze, ears no longer twitching but pressed back hard against your head. Your short tail is waving back and forth quickly, no longer impeded by any fabric over it.

"You're beautiful." San tells you as he makes sure you won’t cover yourself and he steps back a tad, fingers going to the tie of his sokbaji. Your tongue runs nervously over your bottom lip, eyes immediately zooming in on his hands. He notices your gaze's direction and he huffs a laugh but continues with his task. Your arm wraps around your back, tugging on the end of your braid, now free of the pin holding it up that shows your wedded status. It’s like time slows down as he lifts the waistband up and over his half-hard cock and the fabric pools on the floor as well and your eyes widen almost comically. You’ve never seem a man naked in person, only having seen what are basically medical diagrams in books. All you know is that they probably aren’t all that big, and he isn’t even fully hard. The little spines at the base and head of his cock aren’t quite like you’d imagined; unlike the barbed end of a fishhook you thought. Your cunt clenches hard, and you swallow hard as he steps closer.

"Here." He grabs your hand with his and brings it toward him. You both gasp when your small, warm hand wraps around his cock, and you bite your lip as you pump up with your fingers wrapped around him. You wonder if it’ll hurt with how thick he is, your fingers not even meeting, and you ponder what the flesh would feel like on your tongue.

"(Y/N)?" His amused voice pulls you from your thoughts and your head has to tip back to look him in the eye with how close you are. A drop splats onto the floor, and you realize what it is when your slick thighs rub against each other. A rumble rises in San's chest and his nose nuzzles over your ear again, then down your throat and he inhales deeply. The rumble pick up and his warm spiced scent grows stronger, and you feel his cock harden fully in your grip.

"Let's get in." You whine a bit in disappointment when he pulls back, but he takes your hand and leads you down the little steps into the water. It’s nice and hot, but not too much so, flower petals floating in the water and carrying with them their sweet aroma. He sits on the bench that sits inside the large wooden tub, and he hauls you into his lap, legs straddling him. You watch the wavy image of his tail through the water, your tail not able to wag as hard with the water resistance. As you rest on his lap, his hard cock presses to your tummy and you press into it more, making him groan.

"You need to stop doing that if we're going to wait." His tone is a bit harder, his brow furrowing after your next press closer to him.

"Wait for what?" You give him a coy look. You know it would be "proper" to wait till you’re actually in a bed to…bed each other, but…

"(Y/N), love, don't you want your first time to be-" He grunts when you lean in, your breasts pressing into his chest, and he has to close his eyes to think.

"San, I don't care if you take me here, now, or in that bed. What matters is it's you." You rest your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling his neck, your head feeling foggy as you breathe in his scent. You hear the water sloshing before you feel anything, but his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you up a bit. His lips crash to yours as he maneuvers you, only pulling away so he can flip you around. Your back pressed to his chest and he has you rest your knees over his so he can hold your legs open. Even with the water of the bath, your slick is still stuck to your folds, and he groans as he runs two fingers over you. Your entire body jerks, thighs twitching at the little bit of friction, already sensitive. San's arm holds you to him as his index finger breaches your entrance, your slick easily letting him in. You had noticed earlier that he filed his claw-like nails down to blunt them, and now you know why. You had expected a bit of a sting at his finger's entrance, but you only feel pleasure. You have…tested on yourself before, but his fingers are longer and thicker, and your head falls back over his shoulder as a second joins the first. He grins, watching your cunt swallow his fingers, his tail sliding through the water to wrap over your thigh, holding it to his. San grinds the palm of his hand against your clit and your gummy walls clench around the digits inside and he hears you whine right into his ear. Under normal circumstances, your flitting ears and tail would tickle, but he can use them to tell just how you’re reacting.

"S-San!" You gasp, the pleasure he’s bringing over you rising fast and your blunt nails dig lightly into his arm where you grip it.

"Good girl, (Y/N). Fall apart for me." His prompting words leads you to your climax and he rumbles as your cunt clenches and pulses as your orgasm hits. When the little twitches finally die, your body slumps into his, he removes his fingers and helps move you once more. You face him again and your nails dig harder into his shoulders as he holds you over him, the head of his cock rubbing through your folds.

"Ready, princess?" He smirks a bit at the pet-name, though it’s completely and officially accurate now.

"Please." You lean down and kisses the corner of his mouth and down his neck. San grunts and your grip on him tightens as he presses you down, fat cock finally breaching your entrance. It stings, burning in the best way though, the rubbery spines of his cock flicking against your clit as he finally gets the head all the way in. The rest of his dick follows a bit easier, but each little increment deeper, the spines rub against the ridges of your cunt. He’s only halfway in when you throw your head back, breath harsh, chest heaving at the sensation of him splitting you open. Your cunt spasms and pulses, you’re already close, heat pooling and growing in your groin and lower stomach. Your flowery scent fills the air even more than the petals in the water, the pleasure and pheromones your husband are letting off spurring you into a semi-heat. Immediately, your cunt slicks even further, the thick wet not able to be washed away by the water. As he starts to bottom out, the spines at the base of his cock flicks over your clit and against the folds of your pussy and you shudder hard as your groin meets his. San barely shifts and that’s all it takes, your second orgasm hitting quicker and harder than the first. His growl rumbles through his chest, you and the room as your cunt clenches hard around him.

"Fuck-" You swear softly and hearing the vulgar word leave your soft, sweet lips makes him groan.

"Are you okay, love?"

"J-just give me a second." You’re still shuddering in his arms, tiny waves still pulsing through your cunt.

"I can't last much longer." He warns and you shift once yourself, pressing your knees harder into the bench of the bath and you nod jerkily. You’re prepared…well, you think you are. San's arms around you tighten, almost to hold you in place, and he lifts you off his cock some, then pumps up his hips, fucking back into you deep. Your head flies back so hard he’s a bit concerned, but he continues his thrusts, not even pulling out halfway before filling you once more. The water sloshes around you, your tail wagging hard through the water, his own wrapped around your right thigh.

"Shit-" He grunts, pressing you to him and standing. You yelp at his movement but then he lightly rests you against the rounded edge of the wooden tub. He reaches past your head for a towel and bunches it under your head.

"San?" You don’t get an answer to your prompting tone, and your breath hitches as he hauls your legs up to wrap around his narrow waist. One hand rests against your thigh to hold your leg up, the other taking your hand from his shoulder and lifting it up above your head. His fingers linking with yours, holding your hand tightly as his lips hover over yours.

"Hold on, princess." He more or less warns, and your other hand flies to the narrow wooden column near you, barely getting a hold on it before he snaps his hips, relentlessly barreling his cock into you, head battering your back walls. You let out a choking sound, followed by unintelligible whimpers and babbles, your next orgasm rising already. With each thrust, he grinds his hips down, the spines at the base of his cock teasing your clit and he doesn’t even slow down as your third orgasm crashes over you. If anything, it makes him go harder, the water around his legs sloshing hard. He’s full-on growling at this point, tongue running over his long canines, a drop of saliva falling past his lips and into your mouth, gaping open, drool dripping from the side. Your eyes roll back as his pace seems to pick up, the thrusts somewhat shallower but even harder.

"Fucking hell, love, you're taking me so well." San rumbles, watching his fat cock split you open, the shine of your slick and cum on his cock makes his head swim.

"Want me to cum inside? Fuck my cub into you?" He laughs cockily; eyes fixed on the joining of your bodies. You both aren’t even sure how easy it’ll be for you to conceive, and he honestly doesn’t care if you can’t. He’s so far down the line of succession himself, let alone his kids. Though, if it is harder, that just means he can try all the harder.

"Please! San, want your cum!" You whimper, neither of you caring anymore if the servants hear the filth spilling from your mouths.

"Gonna make you my mate too, my wife…" He growls and his thrusts grow unsteady, his nose nuzzles your neck again and your breath hitches as the sharp ends of his canines meet your skin. Your blunt nails dig into the wood of the column, hand gripping his hard as he finally falls over the edge himself. His teeth sink in as he cums, white, hot spurts of cum coating your walls and filling your womb. Your orgasm helps him ride out his, core gripping him hard, eagerly drinking in his seed. You almost feel like you’re going to pass out, brain clearing some as he stops, licking over the bite wound in your shoulder. He pulls back enough to look down at your worn-out body, face red and splotchy but still so cute, so pretty. And you’re all his.

The next few minutes pass with a blur; all of the servants are called to leave the hallway leading from the bath to your bedchambers. You only realize you have changed location when the still-wet skin of your back hits the silk sheets, and San is filling you back up. You have nothing to hold onto, so you white knuckle the sheet of the futon under you. Your legs are thrown over San’s wide shoulders, ankles by his ears, and animalistic noises are leaving him. He’s salivating like a hungry…well, tiger, growls turning into near roars. You aren’t sure how many more orgasms he fucked out of you before he fills your womb with even more of his seed. Your mind is nearly gone, only little squeaks leaving you as he flips you over, hips raised in the air, chest pressing to the bed below. His giant cock, with all those blasted spines, carves into you, and your cunt clenches hard, molding to him. You’re both a mess already, the bath having been nearly negated. Sweat drips from his brow onto your bare back, a thick mix of your releases coating both your thighs and forming a puddle below. A dark stain from the tears caused by the overwhelming sensations and drool forms below your cheek. Even with his claws blunted, they tear into the bedding some as he leans over you, hips pumping hard, the slap of skin muffled by his grunts.

“One more for me, princess. Gonna get you pregnant, keep you stuffed full till you do.” He chuckles, pace stuttering, and your vision spots as he cums once more, squirts and sprays of your own release soaking his groin further. Soon, all that can be heard is both of your panting breaths and you’re having trouble staying awake, all strength leaving your body. That’s when something terrifying hits you…he’s still hard.

hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over the heads. gat - this is the hat that noblemen would wear, more specifically the ones that were black and made of mesh. jeogori - the top/shirt part of a hanbok. hangul - the Korean alphabet we use today. hanja - the old Korean characters derived from Chinese used prior to Hangul's creation. jeongjagwan - a type of gat that noblemen would wear, it looks much like a pagoda. binyeo - the long pin that would hold a woman's bun up, mostly used for married women. cheopji - a hair accessory worn by women, looks similar to a headband with a clip or pin in the middle. manggeon - the mesh-like headband men wore to hold their hair in place sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. sokbaji - pants-like undergarment, mostly worn by women under their chima

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ineffableigh · 1 year ago

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Wait what the hell is Aziraphale mouthing here. Lip-readers sound off!!

This is RIGHT before "The Metatron! I don't think he's as bad a fellow - well I think I might have misjudged him."

His line was: "I, um... [mouthing something]" THEN the above line.

This can't be nothing. Can it? "We need to get out"??? Not sure. EDIT: I agree with @maximumpenguinpuppy here, I think he's saying

"WE NEED HELP."

Further deep dive on the most painful conversation I've ever seen:

Azi makes the most INTENSE EYE CONTACT I'VE EVER SEEN during "I think I might have misjudged him."

"PLEASE HEAR WHAT I AM SAYING TO YOU RIGHT NOW."

After a few intercuts with the flashbacks we get to the really painful bit.

"He said that I could appoint you... to be an angel." His voice is so strained and high pitched even for him, here.

"Like the old times, only even NICER!"

The super nice old times where you couldn't be together at all, eh?

Crowley starts his confession and we get the "What the blazes is he doing?" face as he starts to realize Crowley is NOT picking up on any of this. Azi's breathing heavily here, revealing how very stressed the fuck out he is.

After this point is when things get really hard to interpret. Aziraphale sounds so genuine about "Come with me!" and "We can make a difference, I'll run it and you'll be my second in command." It feels like Crowley starting his very real confession broke through the charade of 'The Metatron knows something and we're in fucking danger'.

He blathers about Angels and Doing Good before breaking again, letting the "I need you!" slip. We get this HALF A SECOND look of the most profound sadness right before the "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"You idiot. We could have been us."

Azi looks like he can't believe just how badly this went. This is right before he looks away.

OH NO NOW I'VE SEEN CROWLEY'S FACE RIGHT WHEN HE STARTS TO GO OVER FOR THE KISS AH MY FEELS

Azi is not hiding his emotions well, right before the grab:

Then of course we get the I Forgive You, which sounds like his most bitter one yet. A flash of anger and resentment, frustration, immediately followed by remorse and grief.

Having seen all that, my best guess now is:

Metatron made the (barely) veiled De Facto Partnership threats, implying he knows about the body swap and, implicitly, threatening Crowley with Holy Water, at least to some extent.

Aziraphale tries his damnedest to communicate to Crowley that Something is Fucking Wrong and they Have to Go to Heaven to Fix It.

Crowley, having been primed by the various chats with Nina and then the 2v1 chat with Nina and Maggie RIGHT before this, clearly timed by the Metatron, fully misses all of this and takes it all at face value.

Crowley starts to give his confession and Aziraphale realizes what he's trying to say, tries to adjust his Heaven Pitch to hinge on staying together as a team to fix things."

"You cannot leave this bookshop." "Nothing lasts forever." Azi has chosen the worst way to make another attempt at saying he has no choice but to leave the bookshop. I don't think this is about the Second Coming, given his reaction to the info later.

Everything deteriorates from there as Aziraphale tries again to imply something is Fucking Wrong by going back to the "Angels! Doing good!" shtick, but it's too late. It's always too late.

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." He doesn't but Azi is also communicating it very badly, likely because the Metatron is indeed watching.

Crowley thinks this is all real so he gives his No Nightingales line, etc etc. Aziraphale can tell there's no fixing this, gives up.

Crowley swoops in with The Kiss as a last ditch effort to get Azi to listen. Azi WAS listening, but cannot respond other than in anger and frustration that Crowley, in his view, refuses to listen to him again, has called him an idiot again. This happens multiple times throughout the show so there's history to fuel that assumption.

This is the precise outcome the Metatron was vying for, to split them up and emotionally/psychologically weaken them, to ensure there was no chance of a united front as there was for Armageddidn't.

My heart hurts, ow.

#aziraphale #crowley #the metatron #ineffable divorce #ineffable husbands #good omens meta

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elssero · 6 months ago

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/ MASKED

-elssero kintober

-ghostface!dabi x reader, college au!, loser!dabi, costume party, mentions of alcohol and drugs, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, actually really cute, dabi is insecure:. maybe a tiny bit ooc, but it's very cute.

a costume party? what a bore. there's a small itch in the back of your head- a silent plea. telling you to just go home- end the night early.

you were supposed to be studying tonight, a huge test was right around the corner and you knew you needed the extra hours looking over the content.

you couldn't help yourself when your roommate barged into your room an hour earlier begging you to join her and her friends. you deserved a break? right? you'd spend the entire day going over course work and a few hours wouldn't hurt?

rushing to get dressed and leave at the same time as her is a challenge but you refused to show up by yourself- far too nervous to even think about it.

your costume- if it could even be considered one is just a little pair of black cat ears, paired with the first matching outfit you pulled from your wardrobe.

the music in the house is far too loud for your alcohol levels- finding yourself next to an assortment of drinks layed out on a table. eventually finding your drink of choice. you turn around to talk to your roommate after what had to be only a few seconds to find her completely vanished-

great.

studying the crowds around you for a second- not finding any familiar faces you decide to make your way outside- recognising who you think to be a girl from your english class.

"oh hey!- sorry your uraraka right?" your silently hoping that she accepts your attempt at conversation seeing as you can't find anyone you actually know.

"uh yes i am?" she looks at you puzzled for a minute and you internally curse yourself for expecting her to recognise you-

"oh wait i know you! you sit behind me in english right? yn?" oh thank god.

"yes that's me! i'm sorry for barging into your conversation like this but my roommate quite literally disappeared on me." she only smiles at you in return-and your incredibly grateful.

"no don't worry about it! uh- if anything i'm glad you ran into me! i've been meaning to talk to you about what we're doing in class right now-" she rubs her hands together as she talks- clearly a little nervous.

"i'm struggling to fully understand what the professor wants us to do with this assignment thing-but you seem to get it pretty well? i was hoping you'd maybe explain it to me?" you flash the girl infront of you a teasing grin before asking for her number-promising you'll send her a text tomorrow so you guys can find a more appropriate time to meet up and discuss your project.

"hey um- do you know that guy over there? the one in the mask?" the girl points at a man with dark hair as she eyes him up suspiciously. "he's like- totally staring right at you- it's actually kind of creepy.."

you follow her line of sight and your immediately uneasy- his costume seems to be put together at the last minute, much like your own. but to say the vibe he gives off matches the mask would be an understatement.

despite his eyes being completely covered- his stare sends shivers up your spine. "uh- i'm not sure?"

"it doesn't look like you have much time to figure it out- he's heading this way." okay- this is fine. it's probably just some frat guy trying to be creepy.

uraraka doesn't stay by your side to figure it out- she leaves with a wink and a hushed good luck and by the time you turn around your face to face with the masked stranger.

"uh- hello there?" you try not to sound as nervous as you feel it's hard with the way he looms over you.

he seems to catch the nervousness in your voice-chuckling before he speaks- "sorry- did i scare you?"

his voice- despite the rasp is far nicer than you would've expected, the tease in his voice is evident.

"didn't mean to make you nervous- just wanted to introduce myself." you can't see the smirk on his face but you can hear it. "i'm dabi"

"i'm not nervous. just drunk- and on high alert." the he moves closer- you feel more at ease after hearing his name, certain you've heard it before.

"what'd say we head back inside- get something to drink."

a part of you wishes you'd said no- but you didn't. you allowed to him take your hand and lead you back inside. you let him fix you up some mixture of drinks that for the record tasted better than anything else you'd had to drink tonight and you'd let yourself relax- spend time with him.

the touches of your waist hadn't gone unnoticed- the way his hand lingered on yours when he passed you a cup- his arm looping around your shoulder when men approached- he seemed to like the game.

you however- we're getting sick and tired of the game. the heat pooling in your stomach was only growing with each of his little touches. enough was enough.

you grab his hand, forcing him to follow you into the first empty room you can find before you shut the door- locking it quickly behind you.

"woah pretty- what's going on? you okay?" you can't tell if the concern in his voice is false or not- but the way his hands grip your waist indicates he has ulterior motives.

your not the kind of person- you don't have one night stands- especially not with strangers, strangers whose faces you haven't even seen.

but with dabi it feels different- almost as though you can't help it, not with the heat growing in your core.

finding it difficult to find the words- instead opting to run your hands along his arms- hooking them together around his neck.

"what're you doing?" there's a laugh- a joke in his voice that completely contrasts with your seriousness-

"do you want me?"

it seems to stop his movements- the small circles he was tracing on your waist come to a hold and for a second you think you've got the wrong idea- "are you crazy?" he lets out a chuckle "of course i fucking want you"

"then what's taking you so long" it's said with newly found confidence.

"you haven't even seen my face?" some may take this as judgement- but you can tell there's more to it-something hidden. "¡ don't care" those three simple words seems to shock him.

"how?- how can you not care?" it's weird how within the hours that you've spent with the man you haven't felt the need to see what he looks like- it just feels right. "what you look like doesn't matter- jus' want you"

"fuck- baby are you sure?" his voice is strained- laced with a mix of hope and confusion. his hands begin to dig into your waist.

"yes- yes i'm sure" pulling him towards you by his neck- bringing him closer "need you- please-"

"okay- okay baby i got you-" he feels insane- crazy. to have somehow ended up so close to you, with your hands around his neck.

he'd been holding back- of course he has. he'd wanted you for as long as he can remember-you'd never know of course, that he'd had a silly crush on you for weeks.

you hike your clothes away from your lower half-exposing yourself, he has to take a second to double check he's still breathing before he shoves your underwear to the side-

he runs a finger across your slit- the dampness evident "fuck- baby your soaked." his pace is slow-

"your such a tease- been doing it all night" he lets out a chuckle at this "m'sorry- c'mere let me make it up to you-" before he slides a finger in before adding another. "oh-fuck" he slides his fingers in and out, keeping a steady pace "gotta prep you- gotta have you cum on my fingers first-"

he changes the angle slightly- fingers hitting a different spot "oh-oh" he takes notice of your reaction- increasing his pace "you like that?" you can't answer him as well as you'd like- he takes the increasing volume of your moans as a yes- "you gonna cum on my fingers pretty?"

it seems that the "yeah- just like that- let it go" you feel it coming- a release in your stomach before it happens- your cumming "dabi- fuck!"

he halts- seemingly staring at you as your mouth drops- listening to your moans as they leave your mouth-"you think you can go again?" there's an eagerness in his voice- one you can't refuse "yeah-yeah i wanna go again"

you grap at him- hand running over his bulge- not being able to waste a second before you take it out-trying not to seem shocked at the size. "wanna feel you-"

you go to take him in your hand before his is around your wrist- halting your movements "shit- baby don't talk like that"

"please- want it" and he groans- a low, deep sound.

"and i wanna last more than ten seconds-" he says it breathlessly- barely touched and he's already losing his mind.

he aligns himself- tip hitting your folds and you hear another deep moan from behind the mask."oh fuck-baby"

it's weird how intimate it is when he slips into you-moans mixing together with ease- your head falling back as he bottoms out.

"fuck- oh god." he moves against you without rhythm- instead it's desperate, rushed. "you f-feel so good"

it's unpracticed- but god does it feel good, it's like he's wanted this forever- the feeling is rubbing off on you"d-don't stop-"

"feel good baby?" he sounds cocky, and you can't even blame him because it does feel good "yeah-feels good"

it doesn't take him long before he's unraveling "fuck-think i'm gonna cum" he can't be blamed- he has wanted this forever. "it's fine- i'm protected" the sentence seems to enlighten something in him- his thrusts get faster- more uncontrolled "holy shit"

"fuck are you sure?" you wouldn't normally- but something about him just feels so right, so you let him.

"fuck- you can cum in me- it's okay" it's all the confirmation he needs before he's completely lost-blinded by pleasure "fuck baby- m'cumming!"

his face falls- landing in the crook of your neck, in the mist of his pleasure he doesn't notice how his mask gets caught in your hair- tugging it away from his face- falling to the ground with a loud thud.

you don't notice it either- not until you've came down from your high. he moves his head away from your neck- a loopy smile on his face as your eyes catch his, clearly still coming down from his own high.

it's not until he notices that your jaw has dropped-eyes wide when he thinks something might be wrong- he goes to speak- to ask if your okay before you beat him to it.

"touya?"

in an instant his eyes are blown even wider than yours- he wants to move, terrified of how you'll react know that you who he really is.

"it is you! i knew i recognised your voice" he blinks at you- your voice doesn't seem laced with any sort of malice, if anything there's a touch of excitement "oh god i hope this doesn't make class awkward."

this can't be right- surely not. why do you seem so calm about this? "uh- are you okay? you seem kinda out of it?"

"what's going on?" he seems kind of lost for words."why aren't you weirded out?" his frustration and confusion only makes you giggle.

"well- i've always thought u were cute, all quiet and mysterious." you give him a smile before continuing.

"this is a win for me."

he again- doesn't reply to you, instead looks at you in shock as you tidy yourself up, drunkly giggling to yourself as you do.

"hey uh- how about we get a ride back to my place, pick up some food on the way?" he can't fathom this- how cool you seem to be, how calm.

"uh- okay? sure." he's losing his mind he thinks, fixing himself up he lets you take his hand, dragging him out of the random bathroom you'd found yourself in.

you remind silent until you've dragged him all the way out of the house, fumbling your way to street while you wait on an uber "your kinda stupid touya- a cute stupid."

he fidgets with his fingers- but he doesn't fight the smile that appears on his face. "whatever- your paying for your own food."

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #mha x female reader #fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha dabi #dabi smut #mha #bnha #touya x reader #touya x reader smut #mha smut #bnha smut

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 1 year ago

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Erm... Sorry? - Lando Norris

"Lando?" You called out after just getting home. Your roommate, Lando, was home for the first time in a while. His job meant that he was away a lot, so it was nice to see him around. Sure, you enjoyed the quiet tranquility, but you missed him.

"In here!" He shouted back as you located him in the living room. You couldn't help the goofy smile that grew across your face when you saw him. You stood near the couch, waiting for him to make a move. "So are you going to give your friend a hug, or are you just going to sit there?" you tutted with a sarcastic roll of your eyes.

"I think I'll just sit here," he stifled back a laugh, looking you up and down. He really did miss you while he was away, more than he'd ever care to admit. Even if he could quite easily afford to live by himself in a much nicer apartment, the two of you had shared this one for years.

You had been friends for nearly as long as you could remember, and your parents had always teased the two of you. They did even more so now that you still lived together, even after your completely different situations and lifestyles.

You were Lando's one normal thing. When he didn't have a normal childhood, with karting, then racing and everything in between, he had one constant thing in his life. You. His one safe space, and his one best friend. And he'd give it all to keep it that way.

"Don't be a dick, Lando," you playfully scoffed, opening your arms out to him. That was all it took for him to lug himself off the couch and wrap his arms around you. "I missed you," he mumbled, but you could only feel the reverberations through your skull, not hear the words.

"So, how was everything?" You asked, letting go of the embrace and sitting down on the couch beside him. "Good, good, very stressful though, to be honest," he nodded. Lando was always honest with you, since you could read him like a book.

"You know, you should just take a night when you're there. No parties or anything, just a quiet night in your hotel room. Or you can call me, whatever suits. Might take the edge off," you told him. Yes, you had told him many times before, but it didn't hurt to rehash it.

"I know, baby, I know," he sighed, leaning his head back and resting it on the back of the couch. You sat there for a moment, mouth open like a goldfish. Baby? you thought to yourself. Lando clearly hadn't noticed what he had said.

"Did you, uhm, did you mean to call me that?" You stuttered, blushing profusely. You thought he could have just been taking the mick, but his lack of a reaction told you otherwise. "Call you what?" He asked, completely oblivious.

"Baby." You said, your eyes flickering up to his face to try and gauge any sort of a reaction. "What? I didn't call you-" he started, but then it clicked. His mind had cast back through the past few sentences, and he just looked at you, dumbfounded.

"I, erm... Sorry? It just kinda... Slipped out," he reasoned, unable to make eye contact with you. You could see he too was also flushed as he ran a hand through his curly locks. You both sat there in uncomfortable silence, neither of you knowing what to say.

"Sorry..." Lando mumbled again, his eyes flashing up to yours and back down to his hands, which he was fidgeting with in his lap. Lando was mentally scolding himself - he couldn't believe he had let that slip.

He had wanted to tease you by calling you an affectionate nickname, but he didn't mean for it to slip out in a genuine manner. It just rolled of his tongue naturally, almost out of habit. He liked the way it sounded when he was talking to you, it fit for him.

"It's OK, it was an accident," you nodded, but it came off more as a fact that you were trying to convince yourself of. "Yeah, an accident, yeah," he confirmed, repeating the word over and over again in his head until he hopefully believed it.

Your heart stopped for a second. You saw that particular glimmer in Lando's eye. The one that told you his was lying to you, but he was trying his best to conceal it. But, you didn't want to push it, things were awkward enough.

On the other hand, Lando was contemplating doing the exact opposite thing. He wanted to push it, arguably, too far. He could tell you had sussed him out, and he should have guessed that lying straight to your face would get him absolutely nowhere.

Without allowing himself a second thought, Lando put his hands on either of your cheeks and pulled you in, close to him. He slightly hesitated when his lips were barely even a millimeter away from yours, before mustering up all of the confidence he possibly had in his body.

He pressed his lips against yours, the tension of the moment melting away for a slight moment, before he pulled away again. "Lando..." you sighed, placing an affectionate hand over one of the ones that were on your cheek.

Lando swiftly retracted his hands away from you. "Sorry, I just-"

"Lando,"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you I just-" Lando frantically rambled, his leg nervously bouncing up and down. "Lando, listen," you softly said, trying to calm him down and get him to think for a second. "No, but I shouldn't have done that after I called you-" He started fumbling again.

You didn't know what else to do, so you tugged him closer to you and stole his lips with yours. "Take a breath for me, yeah? It's OK," you tried to soothe, but you could tell he was very embarrassed by what he had done. "Did you just kiss me?"

"It stopped you needlessly apologising, didn't it?"

"Needlessly? You mean I don't have to say sorry?" He asked, nearly completely gobsmacked. He thought you'd yell at him, maybe make him leave the apartment or leave yourself. "Are you going to keep rambling or are you going to kiss me again?" You asked, looking at him in a way you never had before.

It was the softness of his touch, how tenderly he had kissed you. It left you surprised, but desperate for more. And Lando could happily give you more. "Now that I can do, baby." He smirked, pulling you closer again. But this time you weren't surprised, not in the slightest.

A/N - I want to write, but the lack of motivation and inspiration I have had in, what feels like, the last few months is so frustrating. I wrote this a while back, just never posted it. I'm halfway through a couple requests, they are coming.💖

|masterlist|

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monster-disaster · 3 months ago

Note

I need more of the neighbors I love the storyyyy so muchhhh. The slice of life is 👌

Original: [monsters] Neighbors A Halloween one on my Patreon: [monsters] Neighbors +1

The rising sun barely scrapes the horizon. Its pale light sneaks through the gaps between the towering buildings and spills onto the empty streets in a soft, golden hue. The city is still asleep, save for a few cars that pass by while you walk down the sidewalk. Each tired click of your high heels on the pavement is a reminder of the long night behind you. Your toes are cramped in their pointed coffin, aching with every shift as you try to wiggle them for some relief. Every part of you is sore; your feet, your legs, your back. The remnants of the last several hours cling to you like the dull ache in your muscles. You danced until the floor felt like it was swaying beneath you, then left with a stranger, one whose name you will probably forget before the week is through. The memory of it is already slipping away, fading in the blur of flashing lights and the haze of alcohol. Now, all you crave is a hot shower, a big glass of water, and your own bed.

When you finally spot the familiar brick facade of your building, a wave of relief washes over you, only to be swiftly smothered by a sigh that catches painfully in your throat. There, already out and about, stands the goblin who lives in the first-floor apartment below yours. His figure is hunched over, gripping a rake that looks comically oversized next to him. The long handle is awkwardly angled as he sweeps the leaves into a pile. His scowl is unmistakable, etched into his sharp features, and as his eyes catch yours, you know that his mood is as foul as ever. It always is.

"I was almost worried when I didn’t hear you dragging the furniture across the floor all night," he grumbles as a greeting.

"I don’t drag furniture at night," you mutter, though your words quickly fade into a futile attempt. It doesn’t matter what you say, he finds something to complain about anyway.

"Well, good day," he grunts flatly. His tone is more of a dismissal than a farewell, and without another word, his attention is back on the soggy leaves that cover the small, green patch in front of the house.

With a suppressed sigh, you hurry up the stairs, eager to escape before the goblin can think of something else to grumble about, and just as you push the door open, you nearly collide with your upstairs neighbor. The burly orc woman you often meet for chitchat and coffee beams at you while holding onto her kids' tiny hands.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your mood lifting at the sight of them.

The little girl’s eyes study you intently for a moment before she speaks up. Her voice is soft and innocent in its bluntness. "You look awful." Her words seem to hang in the cool morning air, thick with unfiltered honesty only the kids can have.

"Oh, god!" her mother exclaims. "We don’t say that!"

"We just think it!" the other toddler pipes up, his small chest puffing with pride as he tilts his head, clearly convinced he is the smartest of the bunch while his sister nods as if affirming his wisdom.

"Nah," you hear the goblin call out from behind. "We think it, and we say it."

The sound of his voice causes the toddlers to squeal in surprise, their wide eyes lighting up with excitement, and without missing a beat, they dash past you, eager to join the goblin. Soon, their chatter fills the quiet street while you and the orc woman stand there, stunned with disbelief.

"I still don’t understand how the kids like him," she says.

You shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips. "He’s much nicer to them."

You can hear the gentle tilt of the goblin’s voice as he says something to the toddlers. The contrast between how he interacts with them and how he treats the rest of the world is jarring, but you suppose it makes sense. You’re certain his change in attitude has something to do with the fact that he doesn’t have to listen to their rambunctious energy all night long unlike you.

"Anyway," the orc woman sighs, stepping aside to give you room. "Have a nice day, Y/N."

Lost in your own thoughts and planning for the day ahead, you don’t notice the soft footfalls following behind you, nor the subtle presence of someone drawing closer until you step into the elevator. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand shoots out, halting them with a faint ding.

"Oh," you gasp, startled, and look up to find a handsome minotaur smiling down at you. His broad frame seems to fill the space as he steps into the elevator beside you.

"Sorry."

"It’s fine," you reply quickly, pressing the button for your floor again, ready to settle into the quiet, but as the doors begin to close again, the male speaks up.

"Are you Y/N?"

For a moment, you blink in surprise. "Yes."

He smiles faintly. "My mother," he explains. "She talked about you."

Ah. Of course. The old minotaur lady lives across from you and made it her life's mission to match you with anyone in her family.

"And you are...?"

"The divorced son," he responds with a knowing look.

"Oh, right," you nod. "I’m sorry about that."

He shrugs. "It’s fine. I hope my mother doesn’t annoy you too much?"

You can’t help but laugh. "She gave me your number at least twice."

The minotaur sighs, his shoulders drooping slightly as he leans back against the elevator wall. "Great," he mutters under his breath.

When the elevator dings again, the doors slide open, and the minotaur gives you a nod before disappearing into his mother's apartment while you remain standing in front of your own door, fishing around in your black purse, the one that matches your dress, for your keys. The tiredness of the morning and the weight of the night make your every movement feel sluggish.

Then, a groan comes from your side, making you stiffen. "Ugh, you stink."

You turn sharply at the familiar voice of your wolf-shifter neighbor cutting through the quiet.

You can’t help but scoff, your patience is already at its limit. "I look awful, I stink! Anything else?"

The young man’s eyes widen in surprise at your sudden reaction. "I didn’t say you look awful," he defends quickly, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Though-"

"Don’t!" You interrupt.

"Okay, okay," he relents, taking a step back. But then, a teasing grin creeps onto his face. "But you could really use a shower. You smell like a man."

"A man?!" Your head snaps to the other side, where you spot your succubus neighbor standing with her arms crossed, glaring at you with exaggerated disgust. "But why, Y/N?" she asks, oozing with seduction. "You know you can come to me for anything." A slow, deliberate smile spreads across her dark red lips. The suggestion is clear in her eyes. "Why waste your time on men?"

Before you can respond, the wolf-shifter chimes in. "She’s right, you know? Why waste your time on human men?" His eyes twinkle as if he's enjoying this little back-and-forth far too much.

"I don’t have to explain myself to either of you!" you snap. The words hang in the air, and for a moment, the hallway falls into silence.

Then, you hear the familiar voice of the minotaur lady, muffled through the entrance door of her apartment. "Is it Y/N? Great! Let me introduce you to her."

The sound of her son’s voice follows, just as muffled but noticeably more panicked. "Ma, don’t!"

That’s it! You can't deal with this right now.

With a huff, you turn on your heel, your hand fumbling slightly as you search for the keys in your bag, the jingling sound a bit more frantic than usual. The door clicks open, and you barely spare another glance at the wolf-shifter and succubus watching with too much fun on their expressions.

"Good day!"

#monster x human #monster x reader #teratophillia #terat0philliac #sweet asks #minotaur x reader #goblin x reader #succubus x reader #orc x reader #wolf-shifter x reader #werewolf x reader

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lazyneonrabbitt · 9 months ago

Text

Down at the river

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Request: Hello, I love your stories and have an idea for werewolf Daryl. In wolf form, Daryl finds a reader who is swimming in the river and falls in love with her. In human form, he brings her to the group (no matter what time) but he is afraid to tell her about himself without knowing how much the reader has fallen in love with him. Preferably with smut at the end ;) Thanks♡

Down at the river, where the stream split was where people used to find Daryl during the days before and after the full moon. He'd be bathing in his changed form, or fishing to bring back a haul for his community.

But nowadays he spent his time around the area in hiding. Covered by the thick greenery he'd watch the new woman bathe in the river and catch his fish. She had skills he admired, and she was beautiful as well. Her hair down to be washed or up in a bun when just rinsing her body, she was beautiful.

Daryl traveled along with a supply cart between the communities. He was asked to be security because of the increase in walkers lately, but also because multiple carts had been robbed lately.

Daryl kept his eyes and ears open for any noises and caught something getting closer to the cart. It was too subtle for a human to hear, and too calculated to be a walker. He took his crossbow and watched for any movement but whatever it was stayed hidden.

Only when Daryl went to explain what he heard and let his guard down momentarily there was an opening to rush in, slash the tarp and grab whatever was underneath with both hands and running off.

Daryl was quick to grab his crossbow and follow the figure, easily catching up and hauling them up against a tree and watching all the produce fall to the ground.

"Where's yer camp?" Daryl snarled, inches away from your face. His gaze flickering around the area for any sign of backup.

"I swear it's just me. I found a cabin but fish isn't enough to live on.. Please I just want to eat." You raised your hands as much as possible, palms open and empty for the man to see you were harmless. He caught no sense of you lying to him, so he set you back down and handed you a small portion of what you had stolen. "Ya know we got communities. If ya wanna live nicer, try Alexandria." With the leftover produce in his hands and crossbow over his shoulder he turned around to walk away. "I know ya know where it is."

On his way back he couldn't help but flash back to when he saw you in the river. You knew your way around the woods and were a skilled survivor, but he couldn't let all of that make the heat rise in his cheeks.

"Was a lone woman. Left 'er with a warning." Daryl placed the produce back in the cart, clearly less than what was taken. "Some got squashed when she ran 'n dropped it. M'sorry."

Daryl went to find the cabin, locating it with ease and watching from afar. It was a nice place, and surrounded by walker traps. He remembered your complaints about eating just fish, so while you did know how to fish, hunting and animal trapping wasn't something you were familiar with.

Which is why he hunted down some small game and prepped it to leave at your door, boxed in a stupid tupperware box he took from Carol's kitchen.

He waited til the next full moon for you to knock on the community gate, but you never did.

Back in the woods, Daryl went to his usual spot. A giant pile of leaves becoming his base for those nights. A nice bed and a great hiding spot for his stuff. With the nights becoming colder again he didn't want to fish, opting for hunting instead. He ate his fill and trodged back to the place he'd call his bed for the night, quickly dozing off covered in yellow leaves.

That same night, at the cabin not far off you rested, unable to fall asleep with the lack of thick blankets. Tossing and turning and groaning in frustration you sat up, remembering the giant pile of fallen leaves a short walk away. You thought of stuffing the ratty duvet cover and making a thicker blanket that way and set off to where you had seen it.

Upon arrival you found.. something else as well. At the base of the pile laid a creature, covered partially under a golden blanket. 'Looks like we had the same idea.' The thought came and went as you stared at the large bear.

No, not a bear. Its shapes weren't bearlike.

You scanned the animal's features and got hit by a realisation like a truck. The creature in front of you bared a scar over its eye. Just like that man who let you have that food after you stole from his people. The greying fur indicated his older age too. It matched up perfectly. The long shaggy fur now looked entirely black in the small bits of moonlight passing through the trees, but you bet it was that same dark brown from your memories.

You ditched the plan of taking the leaves, as to not wake up the sleeping beast and turned back home to your cabin.

Despite the night's cold temperature you eventually passed out and slept til late in the morning.

By the time you went to head out, pushing open the cabin door you felt it hit something, shoving it along.

A quick look around the door showed a small wild boar, its throat cut and seemingly drained. But it looked clean aside from the rope burns around its leg. You took the boar inside and stashed it away, giving a quick glance at the plastic tub that held the other animals last time with a fond smile. Your mind wandered to the man who so kindly let you keep the food even after you stole from his people. You were convinced he was bringing you the animals and it warmed your heart.

Were you catching feelings for him?

Shrugging it off you went to set out into the woods to do your daily gatherings, sneaking along the area where you saw him sleep last night, but not finding anything that indicated he had been there besides the leaf pile being a mess. Your trip was ended quickly now that you didn't need to hunt or fish, so you decided to make the extra trip back to the leaf pile with your blanket cover after all.

The amount of walkers in the area increased quickly. It was like they were swarming in from all sides. Daryl had noticed it too. It wasn't safe for him anymore to sleep in the woods during full moons. His mind kept wandering to you, and went by the cabin a few times but never caught you there. He couldn't afford to camp around your home with his community needing food stockpiled if it got too bad outside the walls. He had to keep up the supply and needed to hunt.

It was late at night after two weeks of daily trap checking and hauling back food for his people when he was being summoned to the gate.

"This woman claims to know you, but not by name." Deanna's voice was stern, not trusting the stranger at her side.

Daryl gave you a once over and nodded, "yeah. Seen 'er out there. Traded food once or twice." It was cler you were hurt, and seeing the way you carried your bedsheets stuffed with items he made out you had to leave in a hurry. "Ya should rest. I'll take someone ta check yer old place in the mornin'."

The offer took you off guard but you welcomed it, thanking him for being so kind.

"Alright." Deanna stated quickly. " you may accompany mister Dixon for the night, since you two have a history together. Tomorrow morning mister Dixon can show you my home where we can continue this talk. Goodnight for now." With a kind smile she headed back home.

Daryl bid the guards a good night aa well before showing you the way to his shared home. "Ain't got a room fer ya yet, so yer gonna havta live with the couch tonight."

Daryl led you inside where you were met with Carol who was woken up by people coming to get Daryl earlier. You watched her as she got up and with a kind smile to greet you and introduced herself. When you responded with an introduction of yourself, Daryl made a mental note of your name. "Would you like some tea?"

She had practically readied everything already before you answered, so instead you just nodded and thanked her as she offered you a cup.

"I'm going back to bed. Find me when you need something, okay?" A small wave punctuated her leave as she disappeared up the stairs.

You stood with the tea in your hands, looking around the house and taking it all in. It had been years since you'd seen a house in this near perfect state, untouched by the dead, or the living that took everything they desired.

"Yer gon' be alrigh?" Daryl's voice was soft, like he was trying his best not to overwhelm you. He got to digging out blanket from the basket beside hus lounge chair and handed it to you along with an extra pillow.

"Thankyou. I'll be fine for the night." With tour bedsheet bag set to the side you sat down to undo your boots, remembering you had set your tea down and taking a sip before it got cold.

Daryl kind of just watched your scatterbrained self do five things at once until you were finally ready to lay down. Only then did he wish you a good night, and upon walking away he stopped for a second, turning towards you. "Name's Daryl, by the way."

It had been a while since you slept through the night and woke up with the smell of fresh breakfast being prepared. The groan you let out as you stretched earned you a call of good morning from the kitchen. Carol peeked her head past the corner and walked up with a new cup of tea.

While you waited for breakfast as Carol had instructed you went to unpack the stuff you brought. Trying to make a list for Daryl to help him on his trip to your cabin later today.

You stacked your clothes on the armrest beside you, clearly missing a couple of items that weren't on the closest pile when you ran. You dug out a canteen of water, some weapons and a solar powered lantern that was at the end of its life. The last thing all the way at the bottom was--

"Hey, where'd you get that?" Carol's curious tone had you jump up, pulled away from the focus on your task.

"Ya took it with ya? Empty?" You hadn't even noticed Daryl coming into the room, all dressed and ready to leave already.

Your gaze switched from Carol over to Daryl, and back to Carol again who was staring at her friend with a confused look on her face. "Daryl?"

Again your head moved to look at Daryl, who was chewing on the skin of his thumb. A clear sign of his nerves. "Took it ta bring 'er som meat. She weren't showin' at the gate so I took some to 'er home."

Carol raised her brows at that, but decided to stay quiet, going back to preparing the plate of breakfast for you and shooing Daryl out the door, who made a vocal protest of having to take you to Deanna. "I'll take her later. You go do your thing, she'll be here when you come home."

You smiled around a mouthful of food, loving the playful banter between the two.

With Daryl out the door, Carol went to take her own breakfast and sit down with you.

"So, how'd you two meet? Usually Daryl shares tales of his hunts, but I never heard anything about a woman."

You had to start improvising now. If you shared the truth there was a chance of being straight out the gate again. "He almost shot me." It was the first thing that came to mind, it was close enough to your first encounter where he would have shot you if you had beem further off. "He told me to find this place, but I got scared. I mentioned being tired of fish and he figured out where I lived." You shared a simple version of the whole truth that seemed to work well enough for Carol to move on.

After breakfast you washed up and Carol took you to see Deanna, where you went through some sort of interview initiation process. She talked about the inner workings of the community and finding a job for you based on your chat.

You found it strange, but you guessed it was a necessity.

Deanna gave you a quick tour of the community after deeming you not dangerous, showing you all the important places like the pantry, the infirmary and the vegetable gardens.

You got to search through the community clothing reserves and pick out some stuff to take home and take a much needed shower.

You had no idea how long you spent in the bathroom. All you knew was Daryl had come home by the time you were done.

It then hit you you never gave him a list of missing items.

"Hey." Daryl's eyes caught yours and for a second all he could see was you, with your soaked hair in the river. He shook the thought off and awkwardly pointed out the door. "Stripped the place. Come see what ya wanna keep?"

In your clean clothes and damp hair you followed Daryl outside, padding along down the porch steps and to the back of the truck parked in front of the house.

Together you sifted through the truck bed, taking out the items you wished to keep for yourself and sorting rhe rest into useful community items and stuff to take apart for material.

Spending the whole day going around the community with Daryl was the best time you had since the dead came back to life.

Just one day of donating your gathered items and clearing out your now bedroom was all it took to have those butterflies from back in your cabin flutter so much more intense than before.

But you kept it quiet, showed none of it. There was no way it would be okay to share something like that only a single day into it.

Where you went to bed content, Daryl ended up downstairs with a less positive mindset.

He was angry. Not at you, or anyone in general. He was angry with himself. He was angry for falling for you since day one and not having had the courage to show himself to you during the full moons.

Weeks passed where the two of you danced around each other in and out of the community, all the way up to the week of the full moon.

Daryl had to leave again in three days and his mind was plagueing him. He hated the idea of having to lie to you about his leave. He hated that he'd have to use your cabin and reinforce it in record time so he had a safe space to sleep.

But if yoy knew your cabin was walker-proof, you could want to move back and Daryl didn't want that. He wanted you to stay..

Around the community it was clear something was bugging Daryl, but most of them wouldn't even bother to find out what that something was. To Carol it was clear as day, and she made it her personal job to make sure Daryl talked to you before leaving.

"Pookie.." Carol sat down beside her friend who had been chainsmoking on the porch, leg bouncing and thumb almost bleeding from how much he bit it. "She's gonna be okay with it. The cabin, you. Everything."

Daryl only grumbled something in response. Something that sounded like you being afraid, which only made her laugh niw that she knew how the two of you had officially met.

Of course Darul had shared the whole truth with her, it's how Carol figured out her friend had been in love with the girl way before she had shown up at the community. Before he had caught her stealing, even.

"Daryl, look. It has been obvious that she's comfortable around you. You attacked her for stealing and lied about it to get her to stay." A soft reassuring smile ended her last sentence. "She's lived in the woods. She'll love your animal half."

Daryl spent the remainder of his cigarette mulling over Carol's words. She made so much sense it had to be true.

It took the rest of the day to mentally prepare him to go find you at home, and to his luck you were helping Carol in the kitchen.

He thanked the moon for Carol being there as well, he was going to need someone to back him up.

"Hey, Daryl." Carol happily greeted him from where she was showing you how to create her cookie dough, kneading it side by side with you.

The soft hum of the oven sounded through the kitchen as Daryl came over and leaned against the counter behind you.

"Man, I wish we had chocolate chips.. I miss those." You reminised to the old world and its delicious snacks that had your mouth water.

"I have some, we can set some dough aside for a small batch." Carol moved to separate a small portion of her dough for later. "Just keep those away from the regular ones. Daryl's allergic to chocolate and we don't want him getting sick."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, while Daryl glanced over at Carol's conversation starter.

"You're allergic to chocolate? That must suck.." You peeked away from your work to give Daryl and apologetic look.

He only shrugged it off, too busy with his confession to make a snarky comment. The kitchen fell silent again and he felt the panic gnaw at his skull again. He had to get it over with.

"S'watcha get when ya ain't fully human. Can't eat all kindsa food."

Carol smiled to herself when your hands stilled. In the reflection of the window you could see Daryl's worry clean on his face. You had to choose your words carefully.

"What else can't you have? You know, for if I'm ever in charge of dinner."

The response was one Daryl didn't see coming. It was clear in his little stutter as he found the words to reply. "Can't have grapes. So no wine either, not tha' I can get drunk anyways."

You were hoping he'd straight up say what he was thinking and not dance around the subject, but you saw he needed time. Back to questioning you went.

"So, what exactly is making you have those allergies? What non-human part, I mean." You kept peeking his way over your shoulder as you followed Carol's moves in cutting and placing the cookies.

"Yer gonna think 'm crazy. Feels gross sayn' it out loud." He couldn't even look up from the floor with how badly he wanted to disappear right now. His hands in his pockets plucking at any loose threads so he wouldn't chew his fingers down to the bone.

"You could always show her." Carol shrugged with the plate of raw cookies in her hands, placing it in the oven while you operated the door for her.

"Nah. S'too scary ta show jus' like tha'." He was getting restless, he had said what he wanted in a way, so why was he still so anxious about this whole thing?

"Scary? I swear I mistook you for a bear undernthat pile of leaves last month. You're pretty cute when you sleep." Your eyes squinted with the wide smile on your face, remembering that night in the woods.

Only when you saw Daryl's face become one of utter shock you couldn't hold back your laughter.

It took a moment for the situation to die down again, you catching your breath and Daryl still not knowing what to do.

But Carol did. "I told you so." With a shrug she kept moving around and continuing the baking process while Daryl's mind rattled and you reassured him once more.

"I came here after I saw you and realised who I found. If I saw you before I came here I would have been just as happy to have seen you, because I like you for who you are, not what you are."

Daryl's hands had by now found their way out of his pockets. One tucked underneath his armpit and the other being anxiohsly chewed on, the skin angry and red.

You abandoned your baking, trusting Carol to pick up, and took two steps towards him. Your hands found his, tugging them down to hold them in yours. "Daryl.."

You watched a million thought cross Daryl's eyes, his hands trembled in yours as he looked anywhere but at you.

With your hands intertwined you could feel the anxiety seep into you. The words you had ready all jumbled up and were unreachable in your head. The only difference was, you did find words when you looked Daryl in the eyes and he looked right back. The trembling of Daryl's hands in yours turned into full body jitters, lifting you on your tiptoes to press the quickest peck to his lips, quietly mumbling an 'I love you' against his chest.

For a moment the kitchen was quiet. No mure humming of the oven or rummaging on the counters. Carol had soundlessly slipped away too.

After a while of not getting a single response, Daryl's hands slipped from yours and for a second your heart broke. You were ready to step back and head out, ready to disappear when his hands settled on your lower back, fingers brushing over the fabric of your shirt ever so lightly. He was testing the waters and you let him. Daryl needed time to let everything sink in and give it a place.

Your hands hung limp at your side, unsure what to do with them but tensed as Daryl nuzzled against your hair, softly pressing and nudging you to look at him.

With you facing him again he lowered his head and press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Your arms snaked around him, pressing further into him. "I love you, Daryl."

After the kiss Daryl kept nuzzling your cheek, a soft humm rumbling deep down in his chest.

He may have not said it back, but it was clear in his actions he felt the same way for you.

A/N: This request was fun! I'm sorry it took so long, I really hope it's what you wanted ♡♡

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

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hockeyshmockey · 1 year ago

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the grudge

summary: in which olivia verstappen can't get over the things her family put her through so easily. max verstappen x sibling!oc

warnings: angst, mentions of neglect and abusive behavior. this is F I C T I O N I just needed to write angst with this song, so forgive me and don't consider any of this fact!!!!!

Olivia Verstappen had been through more in life than many of her peers. Yes, some would say she lived an extravagant life with her father's former career as a driver. Most people saw the nicer houses, the way she and Max had nicer machines than some of the other kids.

What they didn't see was the constant tension in their home. The way their mother had given the two of them to their father for major custody after he yelled, holding in her flinches as she gave in. The times her and Max were punished after an unsatisfactory result in a race.

As a child, Olivia had idolized her big brother. She wanted to go to his races, her mother humoring her, and one day she ended up behind the wheel. When her father saw the way she could almost keep up with her brother, the dollar signs started flashing. And so for a few years, Olivia imagined a dream where she and her brother ended up in Formula 1 together, the first brother and sister racing line up.

It only took about five years until things fell apart. Max and Olivia were with Jos full time, and the mans behavior was getting worse and worse. There were times after a race when Max would win, and Olivia would come second (even racing up in the next age group), and their father would scream at Olivia as Max watched his sister in silence.

Olivia always contemplated calling her mother and asking her to come for her on those nights.

And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

When she was 13, Olivia went to the race track to practice before the first kart race of her season. The owner of the track had seemed shocked to see her, saying he had no equipment ready for her as her father had never called to register her for the upcoming season. Olivia had pedaled her bike home (because Jos could not be bothered driving his daughter the two miles out of the city to the race track), trying to calm the rage in her veins.

Max and her father were watching a race in the living room when she came inside. "You didn't sign me up for my karting season?" Olivia asked with barley a quiver in her voice as the two males looked at her.

"You aren't good enough," Jos said with little care, shrugging as he turned back to the tv. "I'm not spending money on a kid who comes in second place. It's a waste. You're a waste."

Her father didn't see, but Max could clearly see the way Olivia's lip quivered. Tears gathered in her eyes, but the girl took a deep breath, straightened her spine and nodded. She turned on her heel, headed into the bedroom and packed a bag.

That night, she did call Sophie and ask to come home. That would be the last time she would see her father for 6 years, and the beginning of the demise of her relationship with her brother.

And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did But I hold onto every detail like my life depends on it

"Mijn liefje," a knock came on Olivia's door in her and her mother's apartment while she was getting ready for her graduation from University.

Two years of hard work, and Olivia was graduating with a degree in mechanical engineering. She already had an internship lined up with the Williams' Racing team while she pursued her secondary degree in Engineering and Aeronautics at Oxford.

At her heart, racing was still one of Olivia's passions. And while her opportunity to pursue it as a driver had been ruined by Jos, her heart for the sport remained. And so she had taken the jump, applying with Williams' Engineering department using her mothers last name. Her father was notorious on his own, but with Max now at Red Bull, she wanted to feel as if she made this entrance into the world of F1 on her own merit.

"Ja?" she said as she opened the door to her mother's strained smile. "What's wrong?"

"Your sister just got here," Sophie explained. "But she's brought your brother."

After Olivia left Jos and went back to live with Sophie, she had tried so hard to keep her relationship with Max stable. Her brother was one of her favorite people in the world. But when he had come to see them for the first time after the move, the older boy hadn't been happy to listen to anything Olivia had to say about her choice to leave.

In Max's mind, Olivia had given up. Their father had given her a test, and she had failed. Never did he consider that as hard as Jos was on Max, it was a two fold on Olivia who could never live up to her prodigy brother.

And so over the past 5 and a half years, Olivia and Max hardly saw each other. And when they did, it was clear things were different. Max was resistant to hear Olivia out or try to see things from her side, and Olivia decided to stop trying and just wear a brave face.

"Oh, okay," Olivia shrugged. She didn't know why Vic had brought Max, but the women walked out into the living area to see the two blondes sitting. Victoria leaped up and wrapped her arms around her little sister.

One of the best things to come out of Olivia's return to Sophie's custody and home, was her newfound relationship with Victoria. Living together had brought the two girls closer than before, and Vic was there when Olivia's mental health had been in the toilet after having to talk with Jos over the years.

"Olivia," Max cleared his throat and nodded as Victoria and Olivia pulled apart.

"Max," Olivia half smiled, clasping her hands together to hold back from wrapping her arms around her brother. "I didn't expect you today."

"I didn't know you were graduating," Max said, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"I sent an announcement to you and Dad," Olivia furrowed her eyes, Sophie nodding as she had helped the younger girl address the cards.

"I never got it," Max's lips thinned. "I didn't even know you were in school."

"Let's be honest, when have we talked in the last five years long enough for you to ask," Olivia scoffed as her mother put a hand on her shoulder.

"And you're working at Williams?" Max ran his hands through his hair. "Why are you working for them? They're not a winning team, you should-"

"I don't need to hear that Max," Olivia said calmly. "I don't need to hear about how what I'm doing isn't enough for you, or for our father. Don't worry, he reminds me enough every day for the whole fucking family."

"Olivia," Sophie said sharply as Max looked to her in shock.

"Dad said you two hadn't spoken in a few years," he said.

"No, he calls me about once a month to remind me what a failure he thinks I am," Olivia smiled weakly as Victoria looked at her with pity in her eyes. "It wasn't enough what he did to me those years ago, he's got to make sure he leaves a lasting impression, just in case I ever feel like I'm moving past it all."

I have nightmares each week 'bout that Friday in May One phone call from you and my entire world was changed

Two years pass. Job interviews are had, and it's with the last name Kumpen, that Olivia gets a job with Red Bull Racing after completing her Masters degree. She had spent a season working under the strong female presence of Hannah Schmitz and the legend Adrian Newey, learning more than she ever thought possible, and watching her brother fight and win his first championship.

After the season had ended, Max and Olivia had retreated to Monaco for a few weeks before Olivia would return to the factory for in person work. Jos had come to spend a weekend, and Olivia had put things aside to join him and Max for dinner.

"You know they only hired you because of Max," her father said after they had finished their salads and were waiting for their main course.

"Excuse me?" Olivia asked wide eyed. "They didn't know my last name was Verstappen until a month ago."

"You think they're that stupid?" Jos laughed as he sipped his drink and Max looked away, refusing to meet Olivia's eyes.

"Max?" she asked with dread in her heart.

"I'm sorry," Max shook his head as he watched his sister's heart shatter in front of his eyes. "I mentioned it to Christian. But I knew you would be such an asset. I wanted you on my team."

"More like he didn't think you could get hired somewhere else," Jos scoffed. "F1 isn't for losers. For complainers. You've never had-"

The man was cut off by Olivia standing up. "No," she said lowly. "You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to try to make me feel like this anymore. As far as I am concerned, I am not your daughter. Lose my number, forget me, I don't care. But I never want to see you again."

With that Olivia gathered her bag and walked out of the restaurant. She went to wave her arm for a taxi when she felt a hand encircle her wrist, yanking it free and whipping around to glare at her brother.

"Olivia please-" he began to plead.

"No," she shook her head. "No. I'm done. You knew. I really thought you finally understood how I felt. But then you do this. You take this accomplishment that I was so proud of. I was so proud to think I had finally proved myself. That little girl who was screamed at every time she wasn't good enough. Told she would never amount to anything, I finally felt like she was healed. And you just fucked that up for me."

"Livvy it wasn't like that," Max fell into the use of his old nickname for her. "Please. You did get this job on your own. I promise. Talk to Christian ok? Let him tell you-"

"No Max," Olivia sighed. "No. I can't do this anymore. I really thought this was what I needed to feel healed. To fight with you and win, to get a championship and know that was a way to fulfill my dreams. But being around him every day, being around him at all, thats not something I can do anymore. And as much as I know you see it more now, I don't think you'll ever be able to get out from his thumb and from the weight of his expectations. I love you, but that's not something I can put myself through any longer."

"Livvy what does that mean?" Max asked as she turned back to the street and hailed a cab. "Please. Will I see you in England in a week? Please."

Olivia looked back at him with a sad smile before climbing into the waiting car.

Yeah, I'm so tough when I'm alone, and I make you feel so guilty And I fantasize about a time you're a little fuckin' sorry

"Max, have a good off season?" the reigning world champion was asked in his first media day of the 2021 season.

"Yeah mate," the Dutchman smiled. "Got some good relaxation in. Spent some time in the sim. It was good, but I'm glad to be back." The interviewer asked a few more standard questions out of the way before he dropped the bomb.

"So, we got some information in during testing but things have unfolded since and we wanted to bring it up with you." At the interviewers lead in, Max got hesitant and his media officer creeped closer, ready to intervene.

"It's come to our attention, that your little sister was a Junior Strategist with Red Bull last season," the interviewer asked.

"Ah, yes," Max nodded. "That was her first season with us after she interned with Williams."

"Of course," the man nodded. "Quite impressive, getting to work with Hannah Schmitz and Adrian Newey. Interning with Williams, advanced degree from Oxford. That is some talent."

"It is," Max said proudly. "She's been a star, and I've been so thankful to have her with the team."

"So what do you think about her signing a contract to join Mercedes for the next three seasons to work with Lewis?"

But even after all this, you're still everything to me And I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine

It's 2024.

Things were reversed. In 2020, Olivia had watched wistfully as Max had stood on top of his car, pumping his arms as he won his first WDC. In Abu Dhabi 2024, Max was watching from the second step as Lewis held up his trophy that had won the man his eighth World Championship.

Max held his breath as he looked to the side of the stage as Mercedes sent up a representative to gather the trophy for the constructors. To his surprise it wasn't Toto heading onto the stage, but his baby sister.

His breath stalled in his chest as Lewis and George both hopped of their podiums to wrap their arms around Olivia. His sister had the biggest smile on her face as she accepted their embraces before turning to the officials, and shaking hands as she made her way to the fourth step and the trophy waiting for her.

Three years at Mercedes had turned Olivia into a rising star. She was the second seat on Lewis' pit wall, making several calls that season that had led to Lewis securing a strong lead in the WDC standings. Toto and the team always sang her praises, and Max knew Red Bull regretted the situation that lost her to their biggest rival.

As the British National Anthem began to play, Max caught his sister's eye and smiled, sending her a nod. The girl smiled with her eyes, but he knew things weren't the same.

She wasn't ready to forgive, and she wouldn't ever be able to forget.

It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet

#f1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula one imagine #formula1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen

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skulla-rxcks · 2 years ago

Text

A different kind of ride

Paring: Bang chan x fem reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: mention of alcohol, car s3x

Day 2 of k-tober

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

Loud music Is blasting, lights flashing: My boyfriend, Chan invited me to a release party that one of his friends were hosting to celebrate a new song they put out a few days ago.

I sigh, standing in a corner with a drink in my hand, watching Chan catch up with everyone at the party. After he’s done he walks back over to me noticing that I’m clearly not enjoying myself. “You okay?” He chuckles, putting his thumb under my chin, lifting it up; parting my lips with his fore finger which leaves me stunned wanting more. “Channie..” I whimper.

“Do you wanna get get out of here?” Chan whispers into my ear, wrapping his free arm around my waist; making me squirm and drop my drink. Parties aren’t really my thing, and he knows that; so of course I nod in response to him. He takes my hand and leads me out of the building, taking me to his car. “it’s definitely nicer in here than at the party..” I giggle, getting in the passenger seat. “mm yeah..” he sighs, placing his hand on my inner thigh rubbing his fingers against my soft skin. “wanna go to the backseat?” Chan suggests.

we move to the back of the car and before I know it my fingers are curled up in his hair, our lips touching each others. “you taste good..” I moan into the kiss, tugging his pants down as I do so. He smiles, pulling my skirt down my hips, then pulling my panties to the side. “fuck..” Chan breathes, pressing his fingers inside me as he kisses and sucks my neck. I moan loudly, feeling his fingers curl up inside of me. “mm, feels good doesn’t it baby..?” he teases, moving his fingers even faster; pressing them deeper inside my hole, as far as they can go. “Chan.. m gonna cum…”

“mm.. not yet, not yet baby.” he declines, pulling his fingers out of me before licking my juiced off of them. “wanna be inside you when you cum.. wanna make you cum around my dick” he whispers in my ear. He grabs out a condom from his wallet, proceeding to roll it onto his already hard and swallon cock. “please…” I cry, positioning myself on his lap, sliding down on him slowly, whining at how he stretches me. “fuck you’re tighter than last time..” Chan positions his hands on my hips as I bounce up and down on him; head and eyes rolling back in pleasure. “OH,,GOD~!” I cry out as I cum around him in hardly no time, I kiss him as i calm down from my release, feeling him fill up the condom shortly after due to how tight I was around him.

“how about we go home and have our own ‘little party’ hm?” Chan says, smirking with a glimmer in his eyes.

#~skulla rxcks #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut

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hallahart · 8 months ago

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here's 2000 words of self-indulgent solavellan veilguard reunion fic that is wildly noncanonical, apropos of nothing~

The Lighthouse, for all its depressing divorcée energy, is gorgeous—lots of magic lights, frescoes and paintings, high ceilings. Definitely nicer than the mud hovel Rook used to sleep in. But one mural (in what Rook is generously calling the living room—it has more of a tomb-like feel at the moment) is particularly eye-catching, seeing as how it’s about a story high: a woman reaching skyward, rising from the jaws of a snapping wolf with some kind of weird green geometric patterns surrounding her.

“Who’s she?”

Rook doesn’t know Solas well enough to read him—the man is as impenetrable as Nevarran poetry—but they can hear his teeth grind from across the room. For a thousand year old god (or whatever), he sure is touchy.

“Must you pry into every nook and cranny?”

Rook ignores him, peers closer. “Oh, wait, I see it now. Green glowy hand, pointy ears. You know the Inquisitor?”

“I am surprised that Varric—“ he stops himself, starts over. “Yes. I knew her.”

He’s so obviously annoyed and uncomfortable that Rook has no choice but to wiggle their eyebrows.

“Knew her, knew her?”

“The Inquisitor is of no concern to you.” Most people would probably backpedal when Fen’Harel looks at them like that, but Rook isn’t most people. They never really had a knack for survival instincts.

“Oh wow, you did, didn’t you?” Rook can’t quite imagine the standoffish man in front of them being romantic with anyone. He’s pretty…severe. They’re pretty sure he’s never smiled in their presence. “You know, I’ve never seen her in person, but those recruitment posters they put up back home—was she really so, you know…” Rook mimes some unlikely curves.

Solas pinches his nose, and Rook is delighted to see a blush spread across his cheeks. “This conversation is over.”

Rook almost takes mercy on him. But apart from the sad silverware situation, this is the first glimpse of Solas they’ve gotten as a person and not some freaky wolf god with great taste in real estate.

“So did she break up with you before or after she learned you were an evil trickster god?” They wiggle their fingers in mock menace.

Solas’ eyes flash and Rook knows they’ve gone too far. Whoops. Solas can’t kill them, not without possibly frying his own brain (or spirit, or whatever, Rook’s fuzzy on the details), but they’re sure he can make their life pretty damn unpleasant.

But all he does is sigh, the dark circles under his eyes deepening by the second, and holds up a hand. “Let us please focus on stopping the evanuris. Anything else is a…distraction.”

His voice is hoarse, and Rook immediately feels bad. Clearly this wasn't some meaningless fling (the twenty foot mural should have probably clued them in)—Solas is in it. Present tense. The sad empty rooms start to make a whole lot more sense.

You are the loneliest asshole I’ve ever met, they want to say.

“Yeah,” they say instead. “No problem. Plenty else to discuss. Ancient blighted gods freed from their eternal prisons, etcetera. Say no more.”

Rook can’t be certain, but they’re pretty sure the look on Solas’ face is grateful relief.

What the hell happened between this guy and the Inquisitor that makes thinking about the gods that want him dead a relief?

___

Rook is lying on the couch pining over Taash and her stupid sexy crystal horn when Varric and Solas enter, already deep in furtive conversation.

The polite thing to do would be to let out a discreet cough to announce their presence. Rook burrows deeper into the pillows and holds their breath.

“Absolutely not, Varric,” Solas hisses. Sometimes he reminds Rook of a sad stray cat they used to feed. Very similar auras.

They come to a stop behind Rook’s couch. “Listen. I get it. Trust me. But if there’s anyone who can help us—“

“No. It is simply out of the question.”

“You’re going to have to face her eventually, you know.”

“There is no reason for the Inquisitor to involve herself. These are my mistakes to fix. Not hers.”

Rook can picture the pitying expression on Varric’s face. “Look around, Chuckles. Your Lighthouse isn’t empty anymore. Like it or not, you have to rely on the rest of us. And Ellana is already involved, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“The Inquisitor is not—“

Varric scoffs in exasperation. “Took her arm off and can’t even say her name?”

Took her arm off? Whoa. Rook’s heard rumors, but…

There’s a brief pause. Rook can imagine the seething look Solas is giving Varric—it’s been pointed at them often enough.

“Perhaps I should find a crossbow to name after her. Would that please you?”

Varric lets out a breath that’s half sigh, half chuckle. “Too soon. Way too soon.”

Rook’s tried to pry into this whole romantic situation, of course, but Varric always deflects, saying something like Don’t even get me started or You’ll just have to pre-order my next book.

Another silence. Then Solas speaks again, his tone softening. “I have caused her enough grief.”

Varric sounds unmoved. “Yeah, by avoiding her for ten years. Has anyone ever told you that you’re impossible?”

“On occasion, yes.”

“Seriously, if you think she’s going to sit this one out now that she knows you’re here—“

Any gentleness is gone. “Excuse me?”

Varric’s nervous laugh makes Rook cringe deeper into the couch. “Yeah, about that… listen, you know it’s impossible for Sparkler to keep secrets from her. It was going to come out eventually, what with the whole ancient evil gods thing. I think she could put two and two together.”

Rook can practically feel the frost radiating from Solas’ voice. “You will tell her you were mistaken.”

“A little late for that,” Varric says sheepishly. “She’s, uh, arriving tomorrow.”

Rook winces at the slammed door that follows in the wake of this new information, and the movement is enough to give away their hiding spot.

Varric peers down at them, his eyebrows raised. “You heard all that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rook says, sitting up. “That was, uh…”

“Tell me about it.”Varric sighs, rubs a hand down his face. “Tomorrow is going to be a shitshow.”

___

Inquisitor Lavellan is very short in person. And she looks almost as tired as Solas. And she’s pretty–dark hair and skin, bright green eyes and a wry set to her mouth that looks out of place on the person who was supposed to be Andraste’s prophet. Rook was expecting someone a lot more dour and…Chantry-y.

She’s also really obviously out of Fen’Harel’s league. No wonder he’s been pining for a decade.

She shakes their hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Varric,” she says.

“It’s an honor, your Worsh—uh, your Inquisitorial—“

“Ellana is fine,” she says—kindly, but impersonally, and Rook supposes she’s had this same interaction about ten billion times.

“Ellana, then,” Rook says, and she rewards them with a small smile.

“So you’re the one who interrupted the ritual,” she says. “With some rather interesting side effects, I hear.”

“You mean being magically linked to the grumpiest elf in Thedas? Yeah, interesting is one word for it.”

They’re arrested by the Inquisitor’s hand on their arm. “You could have been cruel to him, and few people would have blamed you. I must thank you for that.”

Her eyes are piercingly kind, and Rook suddenly understands how this woman had entire nations bowing to her will. They have no idea what to say, mouth dry.

“Still, I can’t imagine it’s been easy,” she continues, the wry smile back.

Rook shrugs, hoping their blush isn’t as red as it feels. “In terms of difficult personalities, he ranks a little below my Aunt Beryl, though Aunt Beryl couldn’t turn people to stone with—“

Then they spot Solas over the Inquisitor’s shoulder, hovering in the doorway like a ghost. He’s about as white as one, too.

“Inquisitor,” says Solas, his voice so void of emotion that it gapes like an open wound.

Rook has a front row seat to the expression that plays across Inquisitor Lavellan’s face. Shock — she grabs the shoulder of her missing arm. Then something Rook can’t quite name—a deep well of some dark thing that makes them shiver, something they hope they never have to feel.

And then her mouth settles into a grim line, eyes closing for a moment before she turns, back ramrod straight.

“Solas,” she says, voice steady as she releases her shoulder. Solas’ eyes track the movement with his jaw set.

“You look well.”

It’s like he’s commenting on the weather.

Rook, frankly, wants to throttle him. The woman you’ve painted onto every other surface of your house is right here, you idiot! Say something better than you look well! They try to communicate this through a series of glares, but Solas seems to have forgotten anyone but the Inquisitor exists. Fair enough.

“You look terrible,” she replies, stepping closer. Her voice is thick. Solas takes a step back.

“I think it best if we—“

“Solas,” she says, stepping forward again, and there is nowhere left for him to retreat. She has the Dread Wolf cornered. Slowly, as though taming a wild animal, she raises her hand to him, coming up to touch his face, the line of his jaw. “You’re really here.”

Rook backs away, knowing this is very much not for their eyes and ears, but—well, they’re nosy, and so they pause in the doorway, shamelessly eavesdropping. Luckily the two elves seem to have forgotten Rook’s even there.

Solas exhales roughly at her touch, ten years of tension rushing out of him in a moment. “Inquisitor—Ellana, I—“

“Hush,” she says, and drops her forehead to his.

Solas’ face crumples. “How can you—I do not deserve—” Rook can barely hear him.

“We have plenty to catch up on,” the Inquisitor murmurs, her voice gentle. “But you are alive, and safe. For now that is enough.”

Like a dam breaking, Solas reaches out, his arms wrapping around her like a drowning man, tight as a sieve. Rook is pretty sure he starts to cry, a sob coming from deep in his chest and shaking his entire frame.

Okay. Enough. Rook’s pretty sure Solas would actually murder them if he remembered they were still there. So they make their exit and ease the door closed without a sound.

They’re happy for him, despite everything. And they really hope they don’t fuck on Rook’s favorite couch.

#solavellan #my fic #dragon age: the veilguard #still have no idea what to tag this game tbh #i realize solas is more going to be in Rook's head but whatever whatever #i need him to be phantom of the operaing around please

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