#I don’t know where they are but just know I am standing in the dark wildly swinging a metal pipe

[illbegottenfaith]

for the rose and the pearl (a I'm Not That Girl inspired fic)

attending Mattheo's wedding with Theo makes you realise you're not the girl he could truly build a happy life with (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - so my plan to write shorter drabbles backfired spectacularly 😭😭 I'm suchhh a slut for multiple meanings in a theme - I'm not that girl who's just going to cheer you on from the sidelines. I'm not that girl who's pretty/glamorous to be on your arm. IM NOT THAT GIRL WHO STILL KNOWS HOW TO LOVE YOU 😭😭😭😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :)))

tropes/warnings - angst, tw alcohol

word count - 2.6k

taglist - @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife @anikatcmh @starkeyszn @natbat666 @ebriton @shrekstoesblog @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @thaliashifts

True to his word, Theo let you pay for your dress. And yet, a week before the wedding, you receive a charming set of pearls, courtesy of one Mr. Theodore Nott.

"Thin ice," you say to him as a means of greeting at the wedding. He bends down to kiss your cheek in hello, and when he steps back you see him grinning. His gaze flicks down to the pearls around your neck.

"Whatever for?"

After the quick hello, he's almost immediately pulled away again into his best man duties. You drift around, saying hi to a few familiar faces. In fact, you only find him again while exploring the venue.

You spy the groomsmen gathered near the entrance of the reception hall, a loose circle of dark suits and polished shoes, some fixing their cornflower boutonnieres, others already nursing drinks.

Theo stands in the middle of them, one hand in his pocket, looking effortlessly put together with his crisp sky-blue pocket square - that is, except for the small white rose in his hand, still separate from his lapel. He rolls it between his fingers absently, half-listening to whatever joke Enzo is telling.

You know you shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t notice the way it’s just slightly crumpled from where he’s been holding it for too long, fidgeting with it restlessly, like he hasn’t thought to ask for help, like he’s waiting for someone else to step in.

“Here,” you say anyway, stepping forward before you can think better of it.

Theo barely reacts as you pluck the flower out of his slack grip. He only shifts slightly, angling himself toward you, allowing you to close the space between you as you pin it into place.

You focus on the task at hand, on the fine, expensive fabric beneath your fingers, on making sure the flower is positioned just right. You don’t look at him, and if you feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, you don't show it.

But he looks at you.

You feel it - the weight of his gaze, the way he watches you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be doing this for him, the way you've done it a hundred times before.

And that’s when it appears. That quiet, unwelcome thought.

This isn’t who I am anymore.

Because it’s not just a boutonniere. It’s the way this feels too familiar, too easy - slipping into an old version of yourself, one who smoothed Theo’s collar without thinking, who fixed his tie before he headed out the door, the one who looked after him like it was just second nature.

Years have passed. You thought you had clawed out, escaped, and yet the second he comes running back to you, you’re back here, in his orbit, making sure he looks good for a moment that isn’t even yours.

And the worst part? He anticipates it.

Not in an entitled way. Not because he thinks it’s your job. But because this is how it’s always been. Because he still sees you as that girl. The one who stands beside him, just slightly behind. The one who makes things easier for him. The one who's ready to cheer him on from the sidelines. The one who's agreeable enough to not take up any more space than he could afford.

But that's just it, wasn't it? You weren't ready to give up a life of your own for his. You tolerated it until you started resenting him for it. He hadn't understood it then. He probably didn't understand it now. Either way, it didn't matter. It was too late.

“There.” You finish pinning the boutonniere, stepping away before the moment can stretch too thin.

Theo glances down at it briefly, then back at you. His lips part, like he might say something. But then someone else claps him on the back, congratulating him on something, and just like that, the moment passes.

You slip away, back into the crowd, back into yourself.

You don’t look back.

The wedding is beautiful and the reception is a vivid, lively affair. You run into so many old friends and made so many new ones that you hardly felt the lack of Theo. You rather enjoy the swing band, but now the music is shifting into something slow, sweeping - a song made for moments like this.

Couples drift onto the dance floor, drawn in by the soft pull of violin strings bathed in candlelight. You’re content watching from your seat, half-listening to the slightly obscure conversation at your table until a hand extends into your view.

Theo.

You hadn't seen him since his toast, after which his attention had been demanded by a thousand other people for reasons that had nothing to do with his fame. Even at Hogwarts, people seemed drawn in by his aloof sincerity despite his somewhat reserved demeanour. You didn't mind watching him thrive in his element - you were more than happy in the company of the sparkling liquor at your table and friends-of-friends you'd only heard of.

Now, you blink up at him, a little dazed. Perhaps it would have been wise to stay a little more sober. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a shadow in his dark eyes. A quiet insistence.

“Dance with me.”

It’s not really a question. Your first instinct is to say no, but something in the way he looks at you makes you pause.

So you take his hand.

His palm is warm with a familiar roughness as it guides yours. He leads you onto the dance floor with a practiced ease, slotting a hand against your waist as if this is something you've done a hundred times before. As if this is something you still do.

It shouldn’t feel so effortless. It shouldn’t be this easy, falling into step with him. But it is.

The rest of the room falls away.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence between you isn’t unfamiliar—it’s lived in, worn down by time. But it doesn’t settle the way it used to. There’s something restless underneath, roaming and nervous. You wonder if he can feel it too.

His hand tightens slightly at your waist, the smallest of gestures, but it makes something twist deep in your chest.

“People will talk,” you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else.

He doesn’t even glance around. “Let them.”

Easy for him to say. He more than looks the part of someone meant to be here - sharp suit, easy confidence, the kind of presence that draws attention like gravity. He belongs in ways you can only dream of.

Your dress is simple. Pretty, but not remarkable. Not the kind of thing people would take a second look at. And yet, standing beside him, in the center of the dance floor, you can feel the weight of glances which linger too long.

You know what they see.

A girl in borrowed glamour, playing pretend in someone else’s world. A fleeting guest on the arm of someone who’s only ever been untouchable. They’re probably wondering the same thing you are - why he asked you to dance in the first place.

You draw Theo closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press your cheek into the crook of his neck. Anything to hide your face from him. For the first time in years, you feel inadequate.

“Relax.” You feel Theo's voice vibrate through his chest, low, almost amused, like he can read every thought passing through your mind.

"I am," you rasp. It's an unconvincing sound even to your own ears. Y

ou begin to wish you hadn't agreed to this. It was a stupid reminder of the trophy wife you never knew how to be.Despite what he might think, you hadn't abandoned your relationship at the first sign of strife. You tried - Merlin, you tried - squeezing yourself into a box to make even more room for him. But eventually, you had to accept that you just weren't that girl - the one who was glamorous yet self-fulfilled enough to be seen on his arm.

He imperceptibly slides his hand up your back. “You look fine.”

It’s a throwaway comment, a dismissive sort of reassurance. It shouldn’t matter. And yet, you feel the familiar sting of something old, something buried, something you promised yourself to forget. A part of you missed this, missed him, so here you were, play-acting at being man and wife.

The music swells, and he turns you effortlessly in time with it. You move like muscle memory, feet gliding through the motions without thinking.

Maybe this is why you said yes - because of the way his hand fits against yours, or the way his gaze softens when he thinks you’re not looking. Because the two of you can't help but work this well together.

You exhale, carefully schooling your expression into something even as you pull back to face him. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

Theo’s mouth lifts at the corner—barely a smirk, but there’s something knowing in it. He doesn’t reply.

The song begins to fade, the final notes melting into the hum of the reception. Theo slows to a stop, fingers loosening around yours, and something flickers in his expression. Like he wants to say something. Like he’s looking at you - really looking, as if for the first time.

But then someone calls his name from across the room. His attention flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough. The moment shifts and dissolves.

Tomorrow you'll wake up in a cold, empty bed with aching feet. The both of you will go back to living your separate lives, but each night you'll wonder if tonight was a dream that never really happened.

You step back, slipping out of his hold before he can do it first. Before the silence between you turns into something else.

“Thanks for the dance,” you say lightly, already turning.

You don’t look back to see if he watches you go. And if your hands still feel warm where he held them, well - that’s nobody’s business but yours.

The reception hall is empty now, save for the two of you. The candles have burned low, wax pooling in their gilded holders, and the last of the champagne sits in your glass, its fizz whispering in the quiet. The music stopped a while ago. So did the dancing, the toasts, and the laughter of people whose love doesn’t come with fine print and hidden clauses.

But you’re still here. And so is Theo.

He’s warm beside you, your shoulder tucked into his as he leans back in his chair, one arm slung lazily across the back of yours. The night has left you both a little drunk, a little drowsy, a little too comfortable in each other’s company. Even with the buzz of the drinks, it's getting harder and harder to ignore the chill creeping up your arms. You don’t remember when you started leaning into him, but he hasn’t moved away. You hope he doesn't anytime soon.

He turns his head, eyeing what's left of the extravagantly lavish cake. "Seven tiers, half of which will go uneaten," Theo mutters, voice threaded with amusement. "It is Mattheo's wedding, after all. Why have enough when you can have far too much?"

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head against his shoulder. "Like you're one to talk about...excesses."

Theo gives a long-suffering sigh.

"Is that what you think of me? Excessive?"

"I think," you say in a tone of faux innocence, "you don't want to know what I think of you."

He groans and throws his head back, eliciting a laugh from you. It's a strangely effective balm, this good-natured ribbing, or maybe it's the alcohol. You swirl the last sip of champagne in your glass. The gold catches the light, shimmering against the crystal, and you think—not for the first time tonight—how easy this is. How easy it always was with him.

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s the fact that the wedding is over, and yet you’re still here, wrapped up in Theo like a memory, like you’ve forgotten that you were just supposed to be his date for the night.

"You’re warm," you murmur, shifting slightly to press closer.

He huffs a laugh. "You’re drunk."

"Just tipsy." You look up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. "Big difference."

The alcohol has made your consciousness deliciously blurry. You become aware of the cold, rigid surface of your shoes pressing against your aching feet. In your mind's eye, you see your slippers melting off your feet, clear as glass, dripping diamonds which promise to wound your feet.

But you're still curled up with Theo, perched on some delicate fence between exes or something more, and even now, years on, you know he won't let you fall - he never did and he never would.

If only things were the same with you.

You were no longer the girl who knew how to love Theo the way you once did, wholly and purely. You wished you were. Tears gather under your eyelashes like crystals, heavy with remorse. You wished you knew how. For the love of God, wouldn't someone tell you how?

He watches you for a beat longer than he should.

And then his hand comes up, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. His knuckles ghost over your jaw, then his fingers slip beneath your chin, tilting your face toward his.

You should stop him.

But the champagne is warm in your veins, his bedroom eyes are the worst kind of drug and the way he looks at you—like he still remembers exactly how you take your tea, like he still knows how to make you laugh even when you don’t want to—makes you hesitate just long enough for his lips to brush yours.

It’s not desperate. Not hurried. Just a quiet thing, lingering at the edges of something once lost.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget.

But then the thought creeps in—quiet, insidious.

I’m not that girl.

Not the girl he wants or the girl he needs.

You pull away before the thought can swallow you whole.

Theo blinks, exhaling like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. It almost sounds like disappointment. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

You don’t resent him for this. Not anymore.

It’s not his fault you still feel the echoes of something that should have faded years ago.

And it’s not your fault that you know better now.

[moonandst4rs]

"Angels like you"

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X GN!READER

WC: 894

Summary: Dean thinks you're too good for this life, and him

Warnings / Content: Inspired by Angels like you by Miley Cyrus, Angst and fluff, no use of y/n,

A/N: Feel free to request of simply just chat !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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Dean Winchester sat behind the wheel of the Impala, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel though the car wasn’t going anywhere. The night was still and quiet, the only sound coming from the faint crackling of the fire outside. Beside him, you sat in the passenger seat, the soft glow of the dashboard lighting your features, calm and thoughtful as you stared out the window at the stars.

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He was tired, more than he’d ever admit out loud. Tired of running, of fighting, of losing everyone that ever meant anything to him. And then there was you—sitting there like a beacon in the middle of all his mess, like you didn’t belong in the darkness he lived in.

“Ever think you’re in the wrong place?” Dean’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness of the night like a knife.

You glanced over, brow furrowing as you caught the meaning behind his words. “What are you talking about?”

Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes on the fire. “I mean, this life. All of it. The hunting, the danger, the…” He hesitated, swallowing hard before forcing the words out. “The damage. You could do better, you know? Be somewhere better. Someone better.”

The silence that followed felt thick, like the air was holding its breath. You didn’t answer right away, didn’t rush to fill the space, and that made Dean’s chest tighten even more. He almost regretted saying it—almost. But deep down, he knew it needed to be said.

Finally, you stood up, brushing the dirt off your hands. You took a few steps toward him until you were standing right in front of him, your arms crossed, your expression unreadable. “You’re really going to try to push me away now? After everything?”

Dean forced a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just saying, maybe you’re too good for this crap. For me.” He avoided your gaze as if he was afraid of what he’d see.

You stared at him, your gaze unwavering as the weight of his words settled between you. The wind picked up again, s small reminder that the world that the world still moved, even in times where it felt like time came to a halt. The soft hum of the night continued, but you were all to focused on the man next to you.

“You don’t get to decide where i belong, Dean.” You replied quietly, although there was determination behind your words. You take another moment to analyse his body language, the way his jaw was clenched, like he was holding something back. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the way his eyes kept darting around in silent wait. “You think I’m too good for this life, for you? You really believe that?”

Dean opened his mouth but no words came out. His eyes flickered, as if he was caught between holding it all in and letting something out that he wasn’t ready to face. You could see it, the pain behind his eyes, the weight of his past. His mistakes and losses had worn him down, carved cracks into his heart that he tried to cover up with false confidence. But you had seen through it long ago.

You moved your hand to hold his, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re not perfect, neither am i. But that doesn’t mean that you get to decide what I’m worth or what i deserve.” Your words were firm, a quiet challenge, but there wasn’t any anger in them, only honesty.

Dean shook his head lightly, a bitter smile tugging of his lips. “You deserve a normal life. Not this—”

“Who said I wanted normal?” You cut him off, a faint smile playing on your lips now. “I chose this Dean. I chose you. I don’t want a life where I’m sat behind a picket fence wondering where the hell you are, if you’re okay, if you’re out fighting on your own.”

The silence settled between you again, but this time is wasn’t as heavy. It was filled with something else, an understanding a quiet acceptance. Dean’s hand tightened on the steering wheel for a moment, his knuckles paleng before he let go, exhaling a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. His gaze shifted to you, the intensity as if he was trying to find the right words, the right way to let you in without breaking himself apart in the process.

“I’m scared,” He finally admitted, his voice so low it almost blended with the night. “Not for me, for you, i don’t want to lose you.”

You squeezed his hand again feeling the tension in his fingers, the tremor underneath. “You’re not gonna lose me Dean. Not unless you keep pushing me away.”

For the first time that night, Dean’s eyes softened, the walls he’d built so high beginning to crumble. He nodded, not trusting his voice, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now, like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe it.

And in that quiet moment, with stars above and the wind howling, something shifted between the two of you, something unspoken but deeply understood. You weren’t going anywhere, and for now that’s all he needed to know.

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[ilovegyokeres]

Nights like this- Kenan Yildiz

Genre: Slow-burn romance, angst, fluff

Summary: You meet Kenan Yıldız by accident one winter night in Turin. What starts as a fleeting encounter slowly grows into something deeper as you cross paths again and again, navigating his rising football career, your own life struggles, and the uncertain line between admiration and something more. Over the course of a year—through winter, spring, summer, and fall—your relationship with Kenan changes in ways you never expected.

Winter in Turin was unforgiving that night. The wind cut through the streets like a blade, cold enough to sting your skin even through layers of fabric. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, exhaling a puff of mist into the air as you tried to shake off the frustration of missing the last tram. The streets were nearly empty, the late hour and bitter cold having driven most people indoors. Your phone’s battery was already in the red, and the idea of walking home through the freezing night was becoming less appealing with every passing second.

You sighed, kicking at a stray piece of ice on the sidewalk, when the hum of an engine caught your attention. A sleek, black car slowed as it approached, its headlights illuminating the frost-covered pavement. You didn’t think much of it until the passenger window rolled down, revealing a young man in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a dark hoodie, the fabric loose around his shoulders, and his face was partially shadowed by the dim streetlight. But even in the low light, you recognized him.

Kenan Yıldız.

The Juventus player. Rising star. The one whose name had been on every football analyst’s lips for months now.

Your body tensed instinctively, unsure if this was real or just some bizarre trick of exhaustion. Kenan glanced at you, then at the empty street ahead, before tilting his head slightly. "You look like you’re freezing," he said, his voice smooth but carrying the distinct lilt of someone who had spent years between countries, between cultures. "Need a ride?"

Your immediate instinct was to say no. It didn’t matter that he was famous, that he was a footballer you had watched on the screen countless times—he was still a stranger offering you a ride in the middle of the night. But the logical part of you knew that standing in the freezing cold for another hour wasn’t a great idea either.

Still, hesitation weighed on your tongue. "You don’t even know me," you finally said.

Kenan’s lips curled into a slight smirk, the kind that seemed almost second nature to him. "That’s true," he admitted. "But I figure you’re either a Juventus fan or just really unlucky to be out here alone at this hour. Either way, I don’t mind helping."

Something about the casual way he said it—like this wasn’t a big deal to him—made you pause. He didn’t seem pushy or impatient, just... offering. And maybe it was reckless, maybe you’d regret it later, but your fingers were already numb, and the idea of a warm car was too tempting to ignore.

You exhaled, finally nodding. "Okay. Just... don’t turn out to be a serial killer or something."

Kenan chuckled, unlocking the door. "No promises."

You slid into the passenger seat, the warmth hitting you instantly. As you buckled in, Kenan glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. "So, where am I taking you?"

You gave him your address, still half in disbelief that this was actually happening. Kenan didn’t question it, just nodded and pulled back onto the road. For a few moments, there was only silence, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it felt strangely normal.

"You don’t seem surprised to see me," Kenan remarked after a while, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before focusing back on the road.

You shrugged. "I mean, I recognized you. But I wasn’t expecting you to be out driving random strangers home in the middle of the night."

He let out a short laugh. "Yeah, well. I like driving at night. Less traffic, less noise." He glanced at you again, as if assessing something. "And I guess I saw you looking miserable on the sidewalk and figured I could do something about it."

You weren’t sure what to say to that. There was no arrogance in his tone, no hint that he expected anything in return. Just a simple statement of fact.

"Well... thanks," you said after a beat. "I appreciate it."

Kenan just nodded, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. "No problem."

The rest of the drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated, unsure how to end this strange but oddly pleasant encounter.

Before you could overthink it, Kenan beat you to it. "See you around," he said simply, like it was inevitable.

You blinked. "Right. Sure."

You got out of the car, still feeling the lingering warmth against your skin as you watched him drive off. The whole thing felt surreal, like a fleeting moment you wouldn’t fully process until later.

But you had no idea that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw Kenan Yıldız. Not even close.

It had been months since that night, and you hadn’t expected to run into Kenan again. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

You were sitting in a small café, one of those places tucked away from the busy streets, when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. "Lost in the city again?"

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Kenan, standing at your table with a lazy smirk, his hair slightly tousled as if he had just come from training.

You stared for a moment, caught between disbelief and amusement. "I wasn’t lost the first time."

He chuckled. "Sure you weren’t." Without waiting for an invitation, he slid into the seat across from you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You do this often?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What, run into strangers I’ve given rides to?" He shrugged. "Not really. But maybe it’s a sign."

"A sign of what?"

Kenan leaned forward slightly, his gaze playful but unreadable. "That we should actually get to know each other."

And just like that, something shifted.

The easy banter turned into real conversations. The occasional texts turned into frequent ones. Over the weeks, the lines between chance encounters and something more blurred until Kenan became a part of your life in ways you hadn’t expected.

And maybe—just maybe—you were becoming a part of his too.

[seulszn]

Careless Whisper

Royalty Mel x reader

Warning: smut. dom!Reader, sub!Mel, angst.

A/N: this is the first time I have ever written my Y/N’s as a top since I’ve been a fanfic writer and I’ve been writing since 2018

You knew from the moment your eyes met hers that a future together was impossible. She was a princess, graceful, gilded, and untouchable and you, a simple village girl with dirt under your nails and dreams too wild for the fields you tilled. The reality of your worlds collided painfully in your heart. If her mother ever discovered that you had stolen the heart of Mel, that you had dared to capture the affections of someone so exalted, she’d have you executed without a second thought.

Every whispered secret and stolen glance became a rebellion against a fate that was never meant for you, a fate where love was a luxury reserved for royalty, and your passion was a dangerous, forbidden spark.

Lying on the soft embrace of her silk-covered bed, your body still humming from the passion you had just shared, you turned onto your side, eyes drifting to the figure standing by the open balcony. Mel, bathed in the glow of the moonlight, stood with effortless grace, her golden skin illuminated by the soft silver hue of the night. The thin silk of her robe clung to her form, delicate yet regal, as she gazed down at the village below the village she would one day rule.

There was a quiet intensity in her expression, a knowing look that spoke of duty, of expectations, of a world that demanded everything from her. And yet, here she was, tangled in sheets that smelled of you, her heart divided between the kingdom she belonged to and the love she was never meant to have.

Gathering the silk sheets around your bare body, you rise from the bed, the cool air kissing your skin as you step toward her. Mel doesn’t turn to face you, her gaze still fixed on the village below, but you can see the tension in her shoulders, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

Just as you wrap your arms around her, pressing your cheek against her warm, golden skin, she finally speaks her voice quiet, almost resigned.

“I am to be married off soon.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and inevitable, sinking into your chest like a dagger. Your grip on her tightens, as if holding her a little closer could somehow keep the world from pulling her away.

Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t loosen your hold. Instead, you press yourself against her back, as if your touch alone could defy fate.

Mel remains still, her body rigid beneath your touch. She doesn’t pull away, but the silence between you is thick, charged with something neither of you can bear to name. The air is heavy with unspoken words, the weight of inevitability pressing down on your chest like a stone. You had always known this moment would come long before tonight, long before the first stolen kiss or the whispered confessions in the dark. She was never meant to be yours, not in the way you so desperately wanted.

Your throat tightens, but you force the question out anyway, your voice barely more than a breath.

“Who?”

Mel exhales slowly, her fingers tightening around the balcony’s edge as if grounding herself. “A noble from across the sea,” she says at last, her voice controlled, careful. “A match arranged since my birth.”

You hear the steadiness in her tone, the way she says it as if she has long since accepted it but underneath, there is something else. Something hollow, something forced. A mask she has worn for so long, even she has begun to believe it.

Your hands tremble against her waist, the warmth of her skin burning beneath your fingertips. You swallow hard, your heart hammering as you ask the one question you already fear the answer to.

“Do you love him?”

Mel finally turns to you then, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you see it, the hesitation, the sorrow, the longing buried beneath layers of duty. She doesn’t answer right away, and that, more than anything, makes your chest ache.

Mel’s golden eyes meet yours, and for a moment, she says nothing. The silence stretches between you, filled with the weight of everything she cannot say. Then, slowly, she exhales a breath that carries more sorrow than words ever could.

“I don’t even know him,” she finally admits.

The answer should be a relief, but it isn’t. It twists inside you, sharp and unforgiving, because it means nothing will stop this. Not love, not longing, not the quiet, desperate nights you spent tangled in each other, whispering promises you both knew you couldn’t keep.

Your fingers tighten at her waist, as if holding onto her might keep her from slipping through your grasp. “Then don’t do it,” you plead, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t love him. You don’t even know him. Run away with me.”

Mel’s expression softens, something breaking in her gaze. For a fleeting second, you think she might say yes. That she might throw away the crown, the duty, the fate that has been forced upon her since birth…all for you.

But then she steps back. Just enough for the chill to seep between you. Just enough to make it hurt.

Her hand comes up, fingers trailing over your cheek with aching tenderness. “You know I can’t,” she murmurs.

You shake your head, gripping her wrist, holding her hand against your face. “You can. We can leave tonight, disappear before anyone realizes-”

“And go where?” Her voice is gentle, but there’s an edge to it, a sadness so deep it cuts through you. “No matter where we run, they will find me. They will find you. And they will kill you for daring to love me.”

You open your mouth, but the words catch in your throat. There’s nothing you can say, because deep down, you know she’s right.

A Queen doesn’t get to choose who she loves. A princess has her duty to her people, to her legacy, to the crown that weighs heavy on her head. And a village girl who dares to steal the heart of a Princess? She doesn’t get to live to see another day.

Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you force them back. You refuse to let them fall, not when this moment means everything, and yet, so little. Instead, you press your forehead to hers, your hands trembling as you reach up to cup her face, desperate to etch every moment into your memory.

The warmth of her skin is a soft, burning contrast against your own, like the heat of the sun trapped between two bodies. Her breath trembles, brushing against your lips in uneven gasps, and it sends a shiver down your spine, the proximity intensifying every nerve in your body. You can feel the tremor in her touch, the delicate way her hands cradle your face, her fingers gently tracing the outline of your jaw, as though she’s afraid that if she lets go, even for a second, everything will slip away.

Your heart aches in the silence between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you. With a shaky breath, you press your forehead against hers, fighting the overwhelming urge to break down.

“Then let me have tonight,” you whisper, your voice cracking in a way that betrays every emotion you’re holding back. “Just this one last night.”

The words feel like a confession, a desperate plea for something you both know can never last, but something you need more than anything. A fragile moment, suspended in time. Your lips tremble as you speak, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let the vulnerability show.

Her breath catches sharply, and you feel it—her hesitation, the internal battle she’s waging. Her hands slide down from your face, trailing along your arms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When they reach your wrists, she grips you tightly, as though holding on to something she fears will slip through her fingers if she’s not careful.

Then, without another word, she kisses you.

It’s not gentle, not soft like before. This kiss is urgent, raw with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid. Her lips are hot against yours, a mixture of desperation and passion that makes your heart race in a way that feels almost dangerous. Her hands, once tender, are now gripping you like she’s drowning and you’re her only lifeline. You press closer to her, the frantic need in her touch mirroring the burning desire inside of you.

The kiss deepens, and for a brief moment, everything else fades. There’s no palace, no duty, no kingdom just the two of you, wrapped up in a single, stolen moment. And it’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough. But it’s all you have, and right now, it’s everything.

Her lips leave yours, only to find the curve of your neck, trailing kisses down your skin with a softness that almost feels like a promise. You don’t speak. There’s no need for words anymore. Only the press of her body against yours, the shared breaths, the bittersweet silence that fills the space between you both.

You guide her gently, but with urgency, moving her back towards her chambers. Every step feels like it pulls you deeper into the gravity of this moment this forbidden, intoxicating connection. You close the distance between you, your hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer until you’re both nearly breathless.

Without breaking the kiss, you push her back onto the bed, the cool sheets feeling like a stark contrast to the warmth of your bodies. She lands softly, and you follow her down, never once allowing your lips to part. You hover above her, cradling her with one arm, the other resting beside her head as you lean in just a fraction closer. The kiss is a hungry thing now, a fierce blending of longing and desperation that neither of you can suppress.

When you finally break the kiss, the air between you feels heavy, charged with the tension of everything you both want but can’t have. You stare down at her, your breath ragged, your body aching with the need to bridge the distance between what’s possible and what’s forbidden.

Her eyes are dark, hungry, filled with an intensity that matches your own. She’s lying beneath you like she’s already claimed by you, yet somehow, you know she’s just as lost in this moment as you are. The way she looks at you makes it impossible to think straight. There’s no space for anything but her.

"You drive me crazy," you whisper, your voice low, rough with the unspoken feelings you’ve been holding back for far too long. The words slip out of you like a confession, as though you’re admitting to something you’ve been too scared to face.

She’s silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours, but there’s no judgment, no hesitation, just a raw hunger in the way she watches you, a challenge in her gaze. The space between you feels like it’s crackling with electricity, the pull of desire and the knowledge that this is a line neither of you can cross without consequences.

Her hand slides up your arm, her fingers brushing over your skin, igniting a trail of heat that makes it harder to focus. She pulls you back down, her lips finding yours again, deepening the kiss, as though trying to push away the reality that’s always looming just outside the door.

You slip her silk robe off, and the moment the cool air kisses her bare skin, a soft moan escapes her lips. “Shhh, I got you,” you murmur against her ear, your voice low and reassuring. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?” You trail your lips along her jaw before teasing her earlobe between your teeth. Her hands find their way to your back as you press hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, each one drawing a sharper breath from her. You move lower, tasting her skin, until you reach her thigh. Looking up, you find her breathless, anticipation darkening her gaze.

“Y/N, please… do something,” she pleads, looking down at you, desperation written all over her face. You drag your tongue along the inside of her thigh, deliberately avoiding the one place you know she craves your touch.

“You have to ask for it, Mel,” you tease, your breath hot against her dripping core. The moment you exhale, she arches her back, a frustrated whimper escaping her lips as her fingers tangle in your curls, trying to guide you where she needs you most.

A smirk tugs at your lips as you hold your ground. “I won’t give you what you want unless you use your words,” you murmur. “Come on, tell me.”

She moans, her breath hitching as she struggles to find the words, her body writhing beneath you. You smirk against her skin, your teeth grazing her inner thigh before you suck at the sensitive flesh, leaving behind a mark. Your fingers trail teasingly between her slick folds, dipping in just enough to make her squirm but not enough to satisfy.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “Tell me what you want.”

She whimpers, her thighs trembling around you, before finally gasping out, “Fuck- I want you to fuck me, please!”

That’s all you needed. You grin at her desperate plea, your lips hovering just above her dripping heat. Holding her gaze, you lean in and give her one slow, deliberate lick, savoring the way she shudders beneath you.

Her reaction is utterly intoxicating, her eyes flutter shut, rolling back into her head as her lips part in a silent, breathless moan. Her fingers tighten in your curls, pushing you deeper against her, as if she physically can’t stand the space between you. Her back arches off the bed, her body trembling under the force of the pleasure you’re giving her. And you? You’re far from done.

With a teasing smirk, you press your thumb to her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, back and forth, back and forth. The effect is immediate. Her thighs quiver on either side of you, her hips jerking up into your touch, desperate for more. “Y/N fuck, don’t stop,” she cries out, her voice breaking with need.

You have no plans to. Not now, not when she’s unraveling beneath you like this. You want her to remember this to feel this even when she’s lying next to him, when she’s playing house with the man she’s supposed to marry. You want to etch yourself into her body, into her soul, to make sure she never forgets the way you love her.

Your tongue works her relentlessly, licking, teasing, fucking her open as your fingers curl inside her, pressing against that perfect spot that makes her gasp. The air is thick with the messy, obscene sounds of her soaked cunt, the slick, wet noises mingling with her ragged, fucked-out moans. Your nose brushes against her coarse curls, your face buried in her heat, completely lost in her.

It’s a scene of pure chaos, raw, unfiltered, desperate. If someone walked in right now, they’d see her wrecked and undone beneath you, see the way she’s falling apart in your hands. But you don’t care. The only thing that matters is her pleasure, her body, her sounds.

“Fuck, I’m close please, let me cum,” she moans, her voice breaking as her body writhes beneath you. Her pleas only fuel you, but instead of granting her wish immediately, you pause, considering it, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. Should you let her?

Deciding to make her wait just a little longer, you pull away from her dripping cunt with a loud, wet pop, her arousal glistening on your lips. She whimpers at the loss, her eyes fluttering open, glassy with need. Before she can protest, you capture her lips in a deep, heated kiss, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

The moment her mouth meets yours, she moans into you, and that sound of desperate, broken moan makes your grip tighten on her. You take full control of the kiss, claiming her, while your fingers continue to work her overstimulated cunt.

You curl them against that perfect, spongy spot inside her, the one that makes her whole body tense. “Y/N, please- please, let me cum,” she whimpers, her voice breathless, pleading, wrecked. You pull back just enough to take in her face flushed, sweaty, utterly fucked-out and the sight alone makes you throb with satisfaction.

“I got you,” you whisper against her skin before pressing your lips to her neck, sucking and biting down hard enough to leave dark, possessive marks. Marks you know she won’t be able to hide. Marks she’ll have to explain.

“Come for me,” you command, your tongue trailing down her trembling body. “Let go, you got it.”

That’s all she needs. Her body tenses for a split second before she completely unravels. A sharp cry escapes her lips as her orgasm crashes through her, making her shake beneath you, her thighs trembling, her walls clenching around your fingers. Warm, white fluid spills from her, soaking your hand, the sheets, everything.

You grin at the mess she’s made, swiping your fingers through the slick arousal dripping from her cunt. “Look at this,” you murmur, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at the mess you made.”

Bringing your coated fingers to her lips, you press them against her mouth. “Taste yourself.”

Without hesitation, she parts her lips, taking them in, sucking her release from your fingers with hooded eyes, moaning softly as she does. The sight alone makes you want to ruin her all over again.

Your smirk deepens as you watch her suck your fingers clean, her tongue swirling around them with practiced ease. Her eyes, half-lidded and clouded with exhaustion, still hold a flicker of hunger. She looks utterly wrecked, her body glistening with sweat, her legs trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But you’re not done with her yet.

Your smirk deepens as you watch her suck your fingers clean, her tongue swirling around them with practiced ease. Her eyes, half-lidded and clouded with exhaustion, still hold a flicker of hunger. She looks utterly wrecked, her body glistening with sweat, her legs trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But you’re not done with her yet.

Slowly, you slide your fingers from her mouth, letting them drag over her swollen lips. “Good girl,” you murmur, tracing a thumb over her bottom lip before gripping her jaw, tilting her head up so she has no choice but to look at you.

She shivers at your words, a whimper escaping as you press a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, over the marks you’ve already left. Your hands roam her body, mapping every curve, every dip, as if you need to memorize her all over again. One hand slides between her thighs, teasing the oversensitive flesh, and she gasps, her hips jerking instinctively.

“Y/N-” she starts, but her words die on her tongue as you suck her nipple into your mouth, biting just enough to make her arch into you.

“You can take it,” you murmur against her skin before kissing your way down her body again. When you reach her soaked cunt, you glance up at her, taking in the way her breath catches, the way she stares down at you with need.

She’s already so spent, so sensitive but you want to push her further. You want to ruin her completely.

You press your lips to her clit, flicking your tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she immediately thrashes, gripping the sheets. “Too much-” she gasps, but you don’t stop. You want to see just how far you can take her, just how many times you can make her come undone.

“Come on, Mel,” you whisper against her, your breath hot and teasing. “I know you’ve got another one in you.”

And with the way she’s already trembling beneath you, you know you’re right.

Her body jerks violently as you circle her overstimulated clit with your tongue, her breath hitching into sharp little gasps. She’s so sensitive it’s almost too much but she doesn’t stop you. She doesn’t tell you to pull away. Instead, her hands fly back to your hair, pulling at the curls, trying to both push you away and keep you right where you are.

“Y/N- fuck, I c-can’t-” she stammers, but you just hum against her, sending vibrations through her already pulsing core. Her thighs tremble around your head, threatening to squeeze you in, but you don’t care. You’re lost in her, in the way she falls apart at your touch.

“You can,” you murmur between slow, teasing licks, locking eyes with her. “And you will.”

She lets out a broken moan as your fingers slide back inside her, curling right against that sweet spot, the one that makes her whole body seize. You keep your pace slow, methodical, watching her unravel beneath you, every twitch, every shudder fueling your desire to push her even further.

Her chest heaves, her brown skin glistening with sweat, her lips swollen and parted as she tries to catch her breath. She looks absolutely wrecked, and yet, you can feel the way her body tightens around your fingers, her orgasm already creeping up again, building fast.

“Y/N- fuck, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” you whisper against her, pressing one last kiss to her clit before sucking it into your mouth, flicking your tongue with just the right amount of pressure. “Give it to me.”

Her body tenses for a split second, her eyes rolling back as her hands clutch at the sheets, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. And then, she breaks.

She squirts hard, her release soaking your hand, your mouth, the sheets beneath her, her entire body shaking with the force of it. You keep going, licking her through it, until she’s whimpering, pushing weakly at your head, her body unable to handle any more.

You finally pull away, your lips glistening, your fingers coated in her arousal. You glance up at her, taking in her fucked-out expression her flushed cheeks, her unfocused eyes, her heaving chest.

“Look at you,” you murmur, bringing your soaked fingers to her lips once more. “Such a mess.”

She barely has the energy to respond, but she still parts her lips, taking your fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. The sight alone makes your stomach tighten, makes you crave her all over again.

You crawl back up her body, pressing your lips against hers, letting her taste herself on your tongue. She moans into the kiss, weak but eager, her hands grasping at you, desperate to keep you close.

“Hey, Mel, I need to clean you up. Don’t fall asleep yet,” you whisper to the brown-skinned girl whose eyes are already beginning to flutter shut.

You smile at her, the girl of your dreams, the one you want to spend forever with. You want to worship her the way she deserves, to make her forget if only for a few stolen hours that the crown is waiting.

She hums softly in response, her grip on you loosening as exhaustion pulls at her. You press a kiss to her temple before slipping away, reaching for a damp cloth to clean her up. She barely stirs as you run it over her skin, her body pliant beneath your touch, trusting yours.

When you’re done, you pull the sheets over both of you, tucking her against your chest. Her breathing evens out, warm and steady, but you stay awake, tracing idle patterns on her back, committing every curve and scar to memory.

Because when the sun rises, she won’t be yours anymore.

She’ll belong to the kingdom, to duty, to the weight of expectations neither of you can escape. And you’ll be left with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the taste of her name on your lips.

And when the first light of morning breaks, painting the room in soft gold, you feel her stir beside you. Her fingers brush your arm, slow and hesitant, like she wants to wake you but dreads what comes next.

You open your eyes to find her watching you, her gaze soft but unreadable in the dim morning light. For a moment, neither of you speak, the silence stretching between you like something fragile, something sacred. Then, a slow, bittersweet smile tugs at her lips before she leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek, then another scattering them across your skin as if she’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

Her black locs fall in wild, tangled waves over her shoulders, spilling across her chest, a stark contrast to the careful updos she wears during the day. Like this, she is only Mel not a princess, not a symbol, just the woman you love.

You smile, reaching up to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, your fingers brushing against her warm skin. For a second, you can almost pretend the night isn’t over, that there’s still time.

But then she pulls away, her lips barely leaving yours before she whispers,

“It’s time.”

The words are quiet, almost hesitant, but they land between you like a death sentence.

Neither of you move.

Because *it’s time* means the world outside this room is waiting. It means she has to leave. And it means you have to let her go.

Time for her to return to her world, to silk gowns and royal obligations. Time for you to fade back into the life you led before her, as if she hadn’t touched every part of you, as if she hadn’t ruined you for anyone else.

But neither of you move.

Her fingers ghost along your arm, tracing absent patterns on your skin. It’s almost gentle almost loving. A cruel mockery of what could have been if the world were different. If she were just a girl, and you were just a girl, and there was no crown, no kingdom, no duty pulling her away from you.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but the plea is there, woven into every syllable. It’s a confession, a desperate wish, a prayer to a god who has never listened.

Mel closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady herself. For a moment, you watch her slip into a world where things are different. Where she chooses love over obligation, where she stays wrapped in your arms instead of walking away. You can see it in the way her brows relax, in the way her lips part like she’s tasting the dream on her tongue.

But when she opens her eyes again, the fantasy is gone, replaced with a quiet, aching sorrow.

“I have to,” she murmurs, and you can hear the break in her voice, the weight of the choice she never really had.

Your throat tightens. You do know. Of course, you do.

This moment was never meant to last.

Still, when she sits up, when she reaches for the silk robe draped over the chair beside the bed, you can’t help yourself. You sit up too, catching her wrist before she can slip away completely.

“Mel.”

She turns to you, her golden eyes dark with something unreadable. “Don’t make this harder.”

You don’t know if she means for you or for herself.

Her fingers untangle from yours, and this time, you let her go. You watch as she ties the robe around herself, as she smooths her hands over the fabric with that practiced grace she always carries, as if she’s piecing herself back together.

When she finally turns back to you, she is Princess Mel Medarda again. Not the woman who whispered your name like a prayer in the dark. Not the woman who kissed you like she was drowning and you were the only thing keeping her afloat.

Just the daughter of a queen, walking away from the one thing she cannot have.

And you? You are just a village girl who dared to love her.

Mel stands in the soft glow of the lanterns, her back to you, her posture rigid, as if the moment she turns around, she might break. You clutch the sheets tighter around yourself, the warmth of her touch still lingering on your skin, but already fading, like a dream slipping through your fingers at dawn.

"You could run," you whisper, though you know the words are foolish. "You could leave all of it behind."

She exhales, slow and measured, but doesn't turn to face you. "And then what?"

You hesitate. Because you know. You both do. Running would change nothing. The world would hunt her down, drag her back to the palace, to the throne, to her duty. And you? You would be a name whispered in scandal, a foolish village girl who thought she could keep a princess.

"I'd find a way to take care of you," you say anyway, your voice fierce, desperate. "We'd be free."

Finally, she turns. And for the first time since this conversation began, you see it the raw, aching sorrow in her eyes. The war between want and responsibility.

"You think freedom is waiting for us beyond these walls?" she asks softly, stepping closer, closing the space between you. "You think we could run far enough that the weight of my name wouldn't follow? That my mother wouldn't send her hounds after you?"

You swallow hard.

Mel reaches out, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, down your throat, before resting against your collarbone. A ghost of a touch, as if memorizing you, as if she already knows this will be the last time.

"If I were anyone else," she murmurs, "if I were just a girl, and you were just a girl… maybe."

The thought breaks something inside of you.

She leans in, pressing her lips to yours, and it’s not like the kisses before. It’s not hungry or desperate, not fire and urgency. It’s slow, lingering something final. A kiss that speaks of everything left unsaid.

When she pulls away, she doesn’t go far. Her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm against your lips, her fingers still curled loosely around your wrist as if she’s unwilling to let go just yet.

“But I am a princess,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. “And you… you were never meant to be mine.”

The words slice through you, sharp and final, even as her hands linger. But then, as if realizing she’s already stayed too long, she steps back. And this time, you don’t stop her.

You watch as she moves toward the door, slow and hesitant, like she’s carrying the weight of something too heavy to bear. When she reaches it, she pauses. For a second, you think she might turn around, might take it all back. But she doesn’t. She keeps her back to you, her shoulders squared as if bracing for the pain of what comes next.

“Don’t come to the palace anymore,” she says, her voice quiet, careful, like she’s trying not to break.

She exhales shakily, gripping the door handle, and then after a long, excruciating pause she delivers the final blow.

“I want you gone before I get out of the shower.”

And just like that, it’s over.

The door closes behind her with a soft click, but it may as well have been a slam for how violently it echoes in your chest.

Silence settles over the room, thick and suffocating. But she is everywhere. In the sheets, in the air, on your skin—the scent of her, the warmth of her, the ghost of her touch still clinging to you like a cruel joke.

And yet, all you are left with is the cold, undeniable truth:

Love was never enough to make her stay.

My pookie @grosspube reading over this:

[flaresemily]

Hello hope your having a good day! I have an angst idea for richter from castlevania nocturne. I was thinking of Richter and the reading being friends when they where younger and after his mom’s death, going to France they lost touch.

Eventually richter finds out that reader had been turned into a night creature (he realized from maybe something still on them jewelry, birthmark), how would that go?

I wanted to leave it open since a few ppl don’t like detailed requests sometimes 😅 if you do get around to this thank you!

It's okay if it's with me you can just make it as detailed as you can because this is to prevent me from being confused on what you are requesting. Idk if it's a good angst or not

Richter x Female Reader : Night Creatures.

"Richter!! Behind you!" Maria shouts at Richter seeing one of the night creatures trying to stab him from behind but fails.

"This thing keeps coming nonstop!" Richter replies as he kills one of them. "I feel like someone is controlling them but who?" Annette said as she protected Maria backs.

"weird...feels like we're missing a piece here" He mumbled to himself.

"If all 3 of you would look ahead. That's probably the master" said Alucard while glaring at the dark corners of the night street.

"get ready! It's about to strike!" They all get to their fighting stance. As the creature launched itself to them long claws were sheathed from behind the hood.

Cling!

"AGH!!!"

"Richter!!" As the creature attacks him with its long claw Alucard manages to launch some attack by cutting the left hand of the creature.

The creature growls before Maria summons her birds and attack it making the hood falls off.

It is revealed to be a female night creature. Long hair,sharp teeth,6 eyes. As if the creature stares at their souls.

"weirdly enough she maintains some of her...human face" Alucard comments on her appearance.

She growled at them before launching herself at them.

"Take cover!!!" As Annette shouted. Richter's world seems to be slow as the creature attacks him first.

Luckily Alucard managed to save him. "What were you thinking! Standing there like a prey!" He scolded him.

Richter was still in shock not by the creature attacks but with the creature's appearance.

"Richter are you alright?" Maria asked him.

"I...I..." As he looks down he remembers a promise he make

Flashbacks (yes flashbacks)

"promise me you come and protect me when I need help" a young girl probably 3 years old asked a young boy.

"I promise!" As they linked their pinky finger they laughed at each other's behavior.

Flashbacks end

I...I kno---" the creature screams again before attacking them.

"ugh it won't stop attacking...even when we are already blind it's eyes!"

Richter only remains silent. He slowly walks to the night creatures. "What are you doing!" Whisper Annette in case the creature hears her.

"just take cover...tell the others I handled her"

Annette just looks at him weirdly and runs to the others. As they all hide behind a ruin wall they watch Richter getting closer to the creature.

"hey beautiful..." The creature turns around and lets out a scream. "I was too late aren't I?" He let out a sad chuckle.

"... it's always like this, always late to save you even now I'm such a useless friend"

As the other 3 listened to his speech, they were starting to understand what was going on.

"do you know I actually got beat up by a female?" As he said, the creature attacks him again. He uses his whip and binds her leg together. Then he uses his power to freeze her leg after binding them.

The creature snarls at him.

"I'm sorry please... please forgive me" he used his power to freeze her whole body leaving only the head.

She growls and snarls at him. As if warning him.

"hey hey look it's me? Richie the 'wannabe hero' remember?" The creature seems to calm down.

"I am Alucard! And I'm gonna kill you!" As Richter said it in a playful tone. The creature seems to recognize it as its blinded eyes widen.

(the others feel cringe at that especially Alucard he looks like he got betrayed.)

As Richter cupped the creature's face. He brings the creature's forehead down and kisses her forehead. The creature truly calms down this time. It cries at the feeling.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry it's all my fault isn't it...I failed once again." He cried out. The creature screams once again trying to escape his grasp.

"please! Please!! I'm begging you! Stop I'm sorry! It's my fault! It's my fault!" As the final stroke the creature breaks out from the ice and slams Richter to the wall.

Alucard sensing this quickly attack the creature.

"YOᑌ lie!! ᎽϴႮ ˡᶦᵉ!" The creature cried out in pain.

"ꪱׁׁׁׅׅׅtׁׅ 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 ｉｔ ｂｕｒｎ!! 𝘼𝙜𝙝!!! ՆɿคՐ სiმჁ!!"

Richter try to reach out for her but was stop by Annette.

"you have to let her go she's suffering."

"I can't..." He sob. "I need to keep my promise and yet I failed once again! Why! Why!" He punches the floor in anger.

"I was always late to save her. And yet she was always on time to save me. Why am I so useless!" He cry. Tears flowing nonstop.

"𝑺𝒂... ᵥₑ.... ₘₑ" Richter eye widen.

"It's now or never Richter!! You need to save her!! She's hurting! She's suffering! Keeping her alive just makes her suffer more!"

He screams in anger and runs to the creature. He uses his power shaping them like a dagger and slams it to the creature chest 5 times. The creature chokes on its own blood and falls backwards.

Richter walks to the creature still crying and cradles it. He screams and screams and screams till he loses his voice.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry y/n." He sob.

"ₘₒ... ᵣₒₙ" he heard the creature mumble and smile. "Yeah...I'm a moron"

As the creature chest stops moving it indicates that the creature finally meets its end.

"someday...I promise I save you just in time"

He carries the creature and buried it near the lake.

"who is she actually and how did you recognize her?" Maria asks watching Richter bury the corpse.

"...her leg" he smile. "Her leg?"

"she has a burn mark on her left leg. She got it from a fire that happened when we were little. It was still there" he answered.

"now...she probably wishes for me to continue living so... who's gonna cook tonight?"

Slap!

"as if!! We already cooked yesterday it's your turn!" Annette say and walk away with Maria.

"Do you agree with them?" Alucard side eye him and smirks. "Guess you will be cooking alone tonight Belmont boy" he chuckled and followed the other two.

"hey! It's not fair?!"

The end~

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FIRST; side b — ceilings - lizzie mcalpine | s. kravinoff x reader

w; slight ooc(?) sergei, angst, noooo happy ending :p an; i feel as if i didn’t get his character right 💔 this is also real short — sigh. but pls enjoy (hopefully)

mixtape here!

The light creeps across the rug in the apartment from the bathroom. Your eyes are heavy, slowly lifting to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

It’s still dark outside — the sounds of sirens, honks, and cheers still raging on. 

Squinting your eyes when the door opens wider, Sergei steps out and stops when he notices you’re awake. “You should still be sleeping.” 

Your eyes follow his movements as he shuts the light off in the bathroom before making his way towards the chair that holds a duffel bag. 

“I can’t…” You shake your head. “I can’t sleep when you aren’t here.” 

“I’m here.” 

“But you’re not,” You fully sit up, your shoulders slouching as you rub at your face. “Not fully anyway. And you’re about to leave. Again.” 

There’s a heavy sigh that comes from him and it seems to echo around the room. “You know why I have to—”

“Am I not enough for you to just stay once?” 

Silence takes over the room, besides the sound of his slippers slightly dragging across the floor as he makes his way around the bed, placing himself in front of you. The bed dips slightly under his weight and you make no move to look at him. 

“That’s not it. You know why I have to leave.” 

Shaking your head, your brows furrow in frustration. “No. I don’t know why,” Your eyes finally snap to his face. “You’ve told me it’s to keep me safe, but you can’t…” Pursing your lips, you shake your head a bit more feverishly. 

“You can’t just keep popping up twice a month to see me and leave,” He looks down at where your fingers pick at the skin around your nails. “You’re hurting me worse than any physical torture could, K. I’d rather be tied up somewhere than to watch you leave again.” 

“Don’t say that.” He shakes his head. 

“Don’t say the truth?” His eyes finally lift and meet with yours once again. He wants to reach out and smooth his thumb along the slight light above your brows — he doesn’t. 

“I love you and I feel as if you don’t even love me enough to stay for one night,” You tilt your head. “If you are going to leave now, I don’t want to see you again, Sergei.” 

“You don’t mean tha—”

“But I do mean that. I’m tired of waiting and wondering when you’ll be back to see me, or if you’re ever going to just…think I’m enough for you to settle down with,” Your eyes burn slightly with unshed tears. “I don’t want to keep second guessing myself when you leave again because I know how this is going to end.” 

Sergei sits in silence as he stares at you. He blinks before looking away. He slowly stands and makes his way around the bed once again, grabbing the shirt he had laid out on the chair. 

You watch as he slips it over his head before looking away, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. 

He sits in the bed again, sliding on his combat boots and you want to reach over and grab him, keep him to yourself, but you can’t because he won’t allow himself to receive the love he deserves. 

Soon, he’s making his way back over with his bag, leaning down slowly as his hand cups the back of your head. His lips land on your forehead, eyes closing slowly as his thumb wipes away any more tears that might’ve fallen. 

“I love you,” He whispers against your forehead. You only nod, chin quivering from the words. “And I’m sorry.” You can only nod again, letting out a quiet sob once he pulls away. He hesitates but finally steps away. 

Outside in the cold and dark, he stops and slowly turns back to look up at the apartment building towards your window.  He should stop isolating himself when it comes to you — he just couldn’t help it. 

You were loving, accepting, and warm. He felt as if he never deserved any of those things — self-sabotaging. 

Even if he longed for it — for you — he’d accept your words and wait for you until the end of time if he needed to. 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[macksartblock]

had a wonderful experience of going to one of the dndads live shows and seeing your art a few times on the big screen slideshow before the show started!! ❤️

If I ever attend a live show and see my art on a slideshow, I’ll combust instantly. Every time I think I’m safe here I forget they’re lurking among us

[acourtofquestions]

Chapter 89

I just finished Chapter 89

[terrestrialnoob]

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. ��Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[stunie]

“GONNA SHOW HIM YOU’RE MINE.”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + LOVE BITES. ft. togame jo, hayato suo, kaji ren, sakura haruka, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request: “Can I request for umemiya, sakura, suo, and kaji where they see reader with another guy friend and they get jealous because the guy is being flirty and obviously trying to make moves but reader is dense so then the boys give reader a hickey for the first time to show that reader is taken??”

mdni ! suggestive. 1.5K WC ; added togame ! :>

TOGAME JO. pet name ‘doll’ used!

“Him again?”

You adjust the straps of your top before twisting and turning to get a better look at your outfit. “Mhm,” you hum in response. “Said he needed help asking someone out today. I’m gonna help pick the flowers.”

Togame's eyes narrow a bit at the obvious intent of your friend. It didn’t help that you really didn't have a single clue in the world, and on top of your obliviousness— you're dressed so cute.

The combination was just a recipe for disaster, and he wants to finally put an end to it today.

“Ah— what are you doing?” You yelp when he suddenly tugs at your wrist, pulling you off balance as you stumble and fall onto his lap. His arm comes to loop around your waist before you can even stabilize yourself, hugging you tight against his chest.

“Togame, let go.” You whine, “I’m gonna be late!”

“Don’t wanna.”

The casualty of his tone makes your eyebrow twitch. He almost sounds bored with how slow the words come out of his mouth, and despite that fact, his arm doesn’t seem to budge at all when you try and push against him.

“Plus…..” he’s choosing to ignore your efforts to move him— or he just doesn’t notice them in the first place. “You don’t need to meet with a guy like that anyway.”

“And why is that?” You retort, arms crossing in frustration as you give up and resort to simply glaring back at your boyfriend. “..Are you jealous?”

“Course I am, doll.” He grins, fingers pulling your top’s strap out of the way before his lips attach themselves to the side of your neck, sucking at the skin as you shiver. His hand tilts your jaw to the side, giving him the space he needs to better suckle and kiss your neck.

You can’t help the little noise that slips out when he releases the skin with a loud pop, exhaling deeply against you before peppering kisses beside the dark mark he's given you.

“Can’t stand when guys are tryna get at what's mine.”

HAYATO SUO. reader described as having hair you can hold up (ie moving it to adjust a necklace)

“That friend of yours..” Suo coos against the shell of your ear, “really likes you, doesn’t he?”

He’s looming right over you, his familiar smile looking a little different today when his arms are caging you right beneath him, and you suck in a sharp breath when he leans down, tassel earrings tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“H-huh? He does?” your voice comes out a little breathless from the way his lips are just barely hovering over your skin.

“He does. You couldn't tell?”

In any other situation, he would think your innocence would be endearing. But after watching your friend get all close to you like that, holding your hair up and then fixing your necklace for you— he couldn't help it. A part of him is thankful for how steady his voice comes out, because you'd never be able to guess that just below his calm exterior- he was absolutely fuming with jealousy.

“No, I didn't know.” You whisper. “But you know I would've turned him down if he said anything-”

“I can help with that.” He interrupts, tone sweet and soothing. He plants a kiss just below your ear, his breath grazing your ear, and it sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“H-how?” you squeak.

You can feel him smile against you before his hand comes to tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck for him. “Just like this.” He whispers before he's taking a sharp inhale, lips latching onto you as he sucks harshly.

The noise that comes out of you riles him up even more. He’s sucking harder before he even realizes, calm demeanor crumbling just a bit when he hears the noises you’re making just for him.

You think you felt his teeth graze your neck for a second when he releases the skin, pulling back a bit to admire the mark he’s left on your neck.

“It’s a good idea, right? Turn your head the other way for me now.”

KAJI REN. calls you ‘my girl.’

“W-what's wrong, Kaji?” You manage to stammer between kisses. “You’re a lot rougher today— is something on your mind?”

He pulls back a bit when your hands tug at his hair, a part of him content when he sees the way your lips are slightly swollen, your mouth parted to catch your breath as your chest rises up and down from the intensity.

There was a lot on his mind, but marking you up was at the forefront of his brain. He could already tell that only kissing you just wasn’t gonna cut it after all that’s happened today.

“‘S fine.” He mutters before he’s back on top of you, his lips roughly latching onto the skin just beneath your collarbone, sucking at the skin as you gasp above him. “Oh— t-that feels good,” your voice comes out as a breathy sigh, “are you… mad still?”

“Mad at that friend of yours.” He growls against your skin, pressing a quick kiss onto the mark until he's moving onto another part of your neck, lips hovering just below your ear. “He was tryna get at my girl right in front of me.”

“I’m sure he wasn't— ah!” You gasp when his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you flush against his body as he tilts his head to better nestle into the crook of your neck.

“Got me pissed off just seeing him looking at you like that.” His teeth graze against your skin when he sucks particularly hard. “Gonna make sure he’ll get a nice and close look at these next time.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

Kissing Sakura is much, much different today.

He’s rough— hands trailing along your back, sending an shiver straight down your spine as he deepens the kiss, breaths mingling with urgency. The way he’s kissing you so desperately today has little gasps escaping your lips, which do nothing but encourage him to touch you more.

“F-fuck,” he gasps between kisses, pulling back to inhale sharply before your fingers come to tangle in his hair, pulling him right back into you.

“Someone's in a bad mood.” You giggle, and he scoffs in response, a dusting of pink over his cheeks. “‘M not mad.”

“You sure? What’s got you so worked up?”

And he hates that he doesn't know. He doesn't know what this feeling is, so he has no idea how to get rid of it. All he knows is that it didn't feel nice when he saw your friend all up over you.

It should've been him instead— he thinks. And all he wants now is to have you.

Your breath hitches in your throat when his lips begin to trace a path down your neck, pressing wet kisses between each inch of skin. “I don't know,” he admits through a deep blush, “just want…this.”

Just thinking about the earlier events makes his blood boil again, and it shows in his next kiss. He accidentally sucks at your neck for a moment, and a lewd moan slips right through your lips.

Your hand slaps over your mouth a moment too late, and he freezes in place, deep blush spreading to his ears at the sound. He’s never heard you never make that noise before.

“D-don't stop, Sakura,” you urge, tugging at his hair, “feels good.”

He pulls back a bit to roughly shake his head, shake off the irritating blush before his eyes finally flicker towards the subtle mark he’s left on your skin. It’s a deep shade of purple, and something about it makes him feral— it scratches at the itch he’s had all day.

He doesn’t think he’ll be stopping anytime soon, at least.

“F-fine,” he growls. “Turn your head.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

Umemiya sighs when your phone buzzes again, the sound catching your attention as you scroll to check your messages again. You’re leaning back against ume's chest when you open it, letting him rest his head on your shoulder with a dramatic pout.

“He’s tryna steal you away from me,”’he whines, arms hugging tightly around your core. “S no fair.”

How you were able to reduce bofurin's strongest— the one standing at a staggering 6’2 to a needy little puppy is beyond him. But in his defense, he thinks he's been waiting for your attention for ages by now.

It seems like the second you're finally putting down your phone to turn your attention to him is the exact moment your friend decides to send yet another message, your phone buzzing from the notification— and your attention shifts back to that guy just like that.

It’s a never ending loop, and he's getting desperate.

“He’s not, Haji,” you mumble, fingers clicking at your screen. “He’s just my friend. And he’s asking to get dinner with everyone tomorrow.”

You don't notice the way his bottom lip pokes out in a pout, eyes then narrowing into a glare directed at your screen before he's pulling you a bit closer to himself, arms holding you impossibly tighter against his chest.

It really wasn’t fair.

It only takes a few more seconds of pouting before his eyes suddenly flicker to the bare skin of your neck, and he perks up when he thinks of an idea. A great idea.

“..Are you gonna go with them? Tomorrow?”

You give him a nod, and if Umemiya had a tail— it would be wagging now. His lips start to excitedly ghost over your skin, taking in the scent of your perfume, and his gaze is focused and intentional as he tries to gauge your reaction.

Nothing, so far.

So he presses an experimental kiss onto your shoulder, eyes watching you closely— and still nothing. You only perk up a bit when he finally decides to proceed with his plan and takes the skin in his mouth, sucking at it for a bit before releasing it with a lewd pop.

"Haji— d-did you just leave a mark?”

“I did.” He’s grinning now, staring at the mark he's left— and he thinks it's surprising dark for how gentle he was. It was only the first one tonight, after all.

“Want another one?”

[chuulyssa]

──── ★ DRUGS SUCK IT UP LIKE VANILLA ICYS the recruiter x reader ────

starring the recruiter x detective!reader count 2.3k genre 18+ dark themes, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, gunplay, smut

notes I'LL KEEP EDITING THIS AND ADDING MORE SHIT WHENEVER I GET HORNY !!! make sure to keep tapping in lol notes wanted to write smth non horny but gong yoo just had to deepthroat that gun 🙂‍↔️ wrote this at 2am and i have my practicals tmr

You had no idea when you had lost track of him. One minute, you had been following his step through the bustling train station, and the next, your vision had blurred, and a sharp pain had shot at the base of your skull.

You didn’t know how long it had been since then. You opened your eyes, immediately shutting them back due to the sudden appearance of light to them. The scent of cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and your tongue tasted blood.

You wriggled, trying to move your arms, but your hands had been tied behind your back, ankles tied to the legs of the chair you had been made to sit on. You opened your eyes once more. The room was dim with a single light bulb flickering on and off again and again.

“Detective,” a voice cooed at you from behind you.

You snapped your neck up to see his face smiling gleefully, staring down at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Imagine my surprise,” he continued, moving away to stand in front of you, “when I realized the pretty lady that had been following me all this while,” he leaned against what you could make out to be a wooden table, “was you.”

His smirk was maddening. You remembered it from all those years ago. The handsome man in a suit, way too overdressed to meet you where he had. The man who had approached you when you were hopelessly drunk in a children’s park, crying about an unsolved case. He had wiped your tears back then, kissed your fears away. You still recall his words.

“Since we’re in a children’s park, how about a children’s game?”

Thank god for the polite refusal of yours, or you would’ve been in the same position as your current client. Seong Gihun. For whom you had been trailing this man for weeks now. The Recruiter.

“Hello? Earth to you, miss?” He snapped his fingers in front of your dazed face, making you jump at the sudden sound. He laughed at you. Then, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the floor, he mocked you. “I had such high hopes for you back then, sweetheart. But you said no,” he pouted, then cackled maniacally at your expression. “I got a kiss though!”

“Shut up,” you hissed.

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing throughout the small room. Your eyes darted around to check for windows or exits, but you couldn’t find any in the pale lighting. “Aw, you want me to let you go? After you’ve been my little shadow for the past month?”

You looked away, and he only smirked, walking towards you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it upwards to catch your attention. “You look at me while we’re speaking. Don’t you have manners, love?”

“Don’t call me that,” you scoffed.

“Oh, you don’t want me to call you that? Is that right, love?” He jeered. When you scowled at him, he dropped his smirk. “Oh, come on now. We both know you’re not going anywhere. Come, let’s have a chat, shall we?”

He sat on the floor, his toes lifting him off the ground by themselves. The soles of his shoes clinked, tilting up so that he was mostly leaning onto you.

“It’s so flattering,” he began, “that you spent so much time trying to follow me all this time later. Am I that captivating, Miss Detective?”

“No.”

“Ah, but you are, certainly,” he nuzzled his face into your lap, making you squirm. You tried to close your thighs, but the restraints didn’t allow you to. “I’ve been dreaming of you ever since I saw you that night.”

He hummed, his knees going down to support his stance. He moved his hands to caress the front of your waist softly. “I cried because you were crying. So don’t cry over anything other than me, hm? It makes me so upset.”

He unbuttoned your pants swiftly, and you flinched. He looked up, amused at your reaction. You glared at him, refusing to speak, but the look in your face, the desire in your eyes, even the wetness he could practically smell betrayed you. He tilted his head.

“Still so stubborn,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You jerked your head away, but the restraint made it futile.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re in my world now, detective. And in my world, we play games.”

He pulled out a revolver from under his suit. The metallic click of the very much real weapon cocking made your breath hitch.

Where did he get that from?

He always managed to surprise you.

“Russian roulette,” he announced dramatically, spinning the cylinder. “You know this, yes? A game of chance. Just like life.”

“You’re fucking insane,” you spat, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could feel it quaking in fear. You were scared now.

“Maybe,” he agreed, stepping behind you and pressing the cold barrel of the gun to your temple. “But aren’t you curious, detective? I am. I’m so so curious. You make me feel it. To crave it. Don’t you see it?”

You closed your eyes. The pressure of the gun against your skin seemed unbearable now. It was as if the nuzzle could pierce through your brain with how he was holding it against you.

“I want to see,” he kissed the top of your head, “just how far you’re willing to go to solve this case.”

I’ll do anything, you thought.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg me to stop, but there’ll be consequences then. Or take the risk.”

His voice was a low purr. The gun shifted slightly, trailing down your temple to rest just below your jaw.

“Say the word, and I’ll put it all to an end. No more games. No more questions.” His other hand came up, ghosting over your chest. “But then you’ll have to give me something else in return.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steady your breathing as he groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. The room felt too small, the air too thin.

“What’s it going to be, darling?” he teased, the nickname twisting in your gut like a knife. His fingers found your hardened nipple through the fabric, and his lips your neck.

“I...” you started, but your voice cracked. His soft chuckle rumbled against your pulse, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine.

“No shame in fear,” he said, almost kindly. The gun tilted up, tilting your chin with it, forcing you to meet his dark, hungry gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. “Little Miss Detective, found dead in a basement room. Your parents wouldn’t like to hear that now, would they?”

Your eyes widened. He knew. He knew from the start you had been tailing him. He had kept tabs on you, more than you had on him.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Please.”

“Ah, is that the best you can do?” He cooed at you, and your hands clenched into fists.

“Please let me go,” you said, almost angrily, and he threw his head back to laugh.

“That’s not how you say it, dolly.”

You took a deep breath in, feeling your pride crush and fall down around you in bits and pieces. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He repeated in a child-like voice. “Like what?”

“Anything you like.”

His smile grew. “Will you be willing to play a game with me, then?” His hand reached under your shirt to caress your nipple, and you could feel yourself gushing at the touch.

“What game?”

“Hm, let’s see,” he murmured softly, fingers circling around your nipple. “I’ll count down from ten.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

“And for every second that passes, I’ll take one step closer to you,” he explained, his lips curling into a sly smile. “If you say the safe word, I stop. But…” He picked up the gun, rolling the cylinder lazily before he pointed it to the side and—

BANG !

You shook, trying to cower and hide yourself, but even that was difficult. The aftereffects of the shot echoed in the silence, until it faded away. It made everything seem realer, if that was even possible. He grinned at your reaction. “There will be problems.”

“What problems?”

“That’s for me to decide,” he said simply, leaning forward, the gun still in his hand. “Do you want to play, Miss Detective?”

You hesitated. There was no way out of this room, no way out of his control. And he knew it.

“Good.” He stood, assuming your answer before you even responded. But the gun was still in his hand, and you didn’t dare disobey. He stepped back to the far wall and bumped into a table on the way. Angrily, he kicked the table out of his way, muttering curses all the while. Then his expression softened as he turned to you. “The rules are clear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He began.

“Ten.” The sound of his boots against the floor echoed around.

“Nine.” Another step. His eyes locked onto yours like a predator stalking its prey.

“Eight.” Your hands gripped the edge of the chair.

“Seven.” The gun in his hand wasn’t aimed at you yet, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

“Six.” He was close enough now that you could see the faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Five.” “Wait,” you blurted out.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head. “Wait? That’s not the safe word.” He took another step, closer still. You clenched your jaw, now starting to panic.

He never even gave you a safe word in the first place!

“Four.” He was looming over you now, the barrel of the gun tracing along the edge of the table.

“Three.” “Stop,” you said loudly.

“Two.” The gun was under your chin now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“One.” He smiled, satisfied, as he crouched down to your level, his face mere inches from yours. “You didn’t use the safe word,” he murmured, the gun tracing along your jawline.

“You didn’t give me one!”

“Details,” he rolled his eyes. “But now, as per the rules, of course…” He kneeled down in front of you again, head tilting down. His hands went up to grip both sides of your waist.

“Wait—”

“Shut up.”

For a moment or two, you didn’t feel anything. That was until his tongue licked a striped against your clothed cunt.

“Ack!” You jumped, trying to push him off you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Like that?” He nuzzled his face into the wetness, making you shiver. “I haven’t even started yet, baby,” he mumbled. Then, he sank his teeth into your clothed thigh.

You let out a loud cry, hoping that someone — anyone — would hear you. But no one did. No one came.

“Quiet now, dolly.” His teeth chewed at your waistband for a few seconds before pulling it down completely. “Up,” he tapped your waist, and you obediently raised your hips. He pried your pants off you.

“Oh,” he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw that your panties were still covering you. “We’ve got to take this off, hm?” He cooed at you again. “Come on, taking it off for me now.”

“What?”

“I said, take it off.”

“How?” You were taken aback.

“Wiggle wiggle,” he smiled like a dork. Then he sat up and kissed your ear. “I’ll help you with the top till then.”

He helped lift your top over your head directly. Once it was off, his lips immediately latched back onto your cheek. “Panties off, please. Before I rip them apart.”

You nodded and fidgeted for a while, lifting your hips up and down and trying to get the fabric off you. But it wouldn’t budge at all.

“Pathetic,” he said, though he looked at you fondly, as if mocking your vulnerability. Tugging a finger under the waistband of your panties, he peeled the soaked cloth away from your skin easily, patting your waist so you’d lift them up to get it off completely. 

You were exposed to him. Naked from top to bottom except for the bra he somehow hadn’t removed yet. You felt the sudden chill of air against your bare pussy. Your nipples pebbled further. He tossed the underwear aside.

His hands slid along your thighs, spreading them wider. “Beautiful.” His fingers tightened. A hand snaked between your legs, cupping the flesh of your thighs easily. “So wet. Already? You should be ashamed.”

You flushed lightly, trying to come up with a retort. But he shut you up immediately. His middle finger had found its way inside you.

“Fuck—” you groaned, and he snickered.

He wiggled his finger within you, grinding it against your inner walls, pressing firmly on that sweet spot while watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

Your body bucked as he added another finger, stretching you wide open. Then another. And another.

He pulled back suddenly, and you whined.

“Why—?”

“No,” he whispered, standing up. His large frame towered over yours, his hands reaching behind your neck to unclasp your bra. “Such nice tits, dolly.” He squeezed them in his rough palms as if grateful to God for his creations. His thumb brushed across your hardening nipple, teasing the peak into a tighter bud, if that was even possible.

Then he lowered his head, capturing one between his lips and suckling deeply. His tongue flicked expertly at your hardened nipple, nipping lightly.

You could see stars.

Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Ni—

He moved onto the other one and did the same.

Fuck was he good at his job.

He left trails of kisses on your chest. Both of them were red and swollen now, and you were left cursing his name in your mind.

“I’ve been playing nice all this while, don’t you think? Let’s make it rougher.”

[ilovethanosdick]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[salemlunaa]

the neediness makes absolutely no sense ᥫ᭡

not only is the begging dumb, it’s illogical

inducing the void is one of the easiest things you can, do, easier than breathing

at anytime of the day you relax

heavy breathing

focus on the darkness in your eyes

affirm “I AM” or let your mind wonder, anything to keep your consciousness away from the 3D

and you’ve done it

theres no “i’ve tried but-” “but when i do it” there’s is no trial and error for a god, you aren’t special, you’re not exempt from the law of assumption. You’re not the exception, you can do it. There’s no trying, just be, it’s so easy that this neediness a lot of you are showing just doesn’t make any sense.

And when I say that you might think I’m crazy. Because some of you need to get out of the life you’re living, you need to escape, you need the void. Kill that mindset immediately, because that need just shows that you don’t believe you are the operant power, the void doesn’t gift you anything. It’s just a state of consciousness, you manifest, not the void, so the neediness is completely irrational.

its just a state of consciousness that you are inducing through relaxation and or meditation. Which is why the begging and the neediness makes no sense.

If you are “I AM” as you say you are, than you are everything. You can do everything. And the law of assumption is that if think it to be true, it has already been. Why are you begging for something that is already happened, if you are a “void master” why are you still asking the same questions you KNOW the answers to. Stop stalling.

If you order a package, and it arrives, you aren’t going to be emailing amazon asking how to get your package and complaining that it hasn’t come, because you’ll look pretty stupid, won’t you? This neediness doesn’t make sense because you’ve already induced the void state and you are already a master at the inducing pure consciousness.

Another reason why it doesn’t make sense is because it’s so easy. Why are you still here begging for something that is as easy as breathing, it’s illogical. The void state is just a state of consciousness where any intention can be set without resistance, that’s it. That’s all it is. It’s not magic, and you’ll roll your eyes and say “I know it’s not magic” but why are you still asking for help?

If you knew 100% the simplicity of it, you wouldn’t need that subliminal, you wouldn’t need someone to give you guidance EVERY step of the way, you wouldn’t need to do this 20-step yoga routine, you wouldn’t need to shamelessly ask others to “enter” for you, you wouldn’t need external bullshit to do something that’s internal. You wouldn’t need an “instant method”, you wouldn’t need to read paragraph on paragraph, post after post trying to make it “click”.

If you had a boyfriend you wouldn’t need to read post after post telling you how to get one would you. You wouldn’t be begging people to help you get a boyfriend if he was right next to you in bed. You wouldn’t be reading relationship success stories trying to feel something. Why? because you don’t need to. You already have one.

The void is already yours, it has been the second you thought about it because manifestation is instant so this desperation and this feeling of despair makes absolutely no sense

stop the desperation and start standing firm, do i really need to remind you who you are? is the void your bitch or is it the other way around?

👜💋 stop needing start deciding, it’s so so simple

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”