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ceilidho · 25 days ago

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'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. First Meeting masterlist

Choppy waters like Neptune’s eye meet your gaze when you look back at where you came from, the land on the other side but a beige striation on the horizon.

“Afraid of heights, doctor?” your escort asks, his amusement borderline distasteful. It must stroke their ego to watch newcomers come aboard and flounder, gawking at the swells and waves crashing against the oil rig, each wave so cataclysmic that it’s a wonder the structure stays upright. A wonder of engineering, that is.

The rig manager stands closer to the railing, staring without fear out into the ocean surrounding you. His sea legs are likelier studier than the ones that wash up ashore every fourteen days when he’s due for his OSHA mandated break. His knees don’t even buckle at the sight of the barnacles clinging nerve-wrackingly high up on the rig legs. Far too high up for comfort.

“No, sir,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just water.”

He barks a laugh at that. “Plenny o’ that around here. Wouldn’y go leaning my head over the rail then, if I was you.”

You take another look down, balking at the frothy white streaking the latticework barrier around the jacket legs. No worries there; there isn’t a chance in hell you’ll be going anywhere near the rails. You’re too high up to know for sure, but you wonder if there are sharks plumbing the depths beneath the rig, excited by the noise and activity on board.

You’d be shark chum if you went overboard. Beyond that, you’d be fish food; no sympathy from the sea to be found this far from land.

“Where should I set up?” you ask instead.

Sensing your eagerness to get started—and to get away from the edge of the rig—he gestures for you to follow him and sets off towards the door closest to you, leading you into the interior of the rig. “This way, doc—got a room already set up for ye. Cozier in there than out here.”

The first few days aren’t so bad after that. You spend the first day getting unpacked, your suitcase already waiting for you in your quarters, which doubles as your office, and then turn in early after prepping for the next day.

As anticipated, you spend the next day hunched over the toilet bowl, stomach roiling from spending too long staring at the turbulent waters below. You’ve done this before but it never gets any easier. Despite your chosen field of research, you’re suited for dry land, not the sea. It’s the price you have to pay though.

No coffee that first morning. Just tea to help settle your stomach. And it does for a bit—lets you get through your first day worth of tests without you upchucking while collecting water samples from the discharge point. You’ll save your indoor work for the days when the crests of the waves are high enough to spray the working deck. By dinner, your stomach is a little more settled, but still you elect to eat in your quarters instead of with the workers in the mess.

You haven’t been on the rig long enough to have made any enemies, nor do you think that’s something that’ll happen during your brief time on board, but you definitely haven’t made any friends. It comes with the territory. The men that work on these rigs out in the middle of the ocean—even the ones on land, for that matter—tend to view your kind with distrust at the very least, if not outright hostility.

It’s hard to blame them. The purpose of your visit isn’t to shower them with praises. You’re stationed on the rig for the next few days to collect data and samples to assess the environmental impact of the rig’s operations. It puts you somewhat at odds with them, the outcome of your work being potentially to the detriment of theirs.

Some whisper the word like blasphemy. Government worker. They say it like you’re the Baba Yaga or a witch living in a cottage at the edge of the village, like uttering the word too loudly will summon you. There’s too much work to do around the rig for them to cluck their tongues like gossipy hens, but the men find time for it anyway. You’d roll your eyes if you were any greener.

The truth is though, you’re used to it, and at this point in your career, you don’t have it in you to act like it’s such a shock that they wouldn’t give you the red carpet treatment. All you need is a hot cup of coffee, an office (or even just a desk) to write your reports, and some space to conduct your research without being badgered with questions.

Most of the men tend to blur together, a medley of fluorescent yellow hard hats and navy coveralls, respirators strung around their necks and goggles covering their eyes. It’s easy enough to mistake them for one another.

Only one of them has managed to catch your eye so far, though you can’t say it’s for a particularly good reason. Of the lot of them, he’s the loudest. Which is saying something, considering that the crew tend to speak in shouts and hollers to make up for the crashing waves beneath them and the howling winds above them. He’s also among the tallest, broad shouldered and muscled—a former first responder or military, if you had to guess, though you keep your assumptions to yourself.

You know better than to ask questions around him because you’ve learned in the short time that you’ve spent on the rig not to give him—Soap, they call him, or MacTavish when the rig manager is particularly pissed off—even an inch.

It’s another crew member that gives you that heads up. “Din’y pay him any mind.”

“Who?” you ask, looking up from your work.

The crew member nods to the man posted on the other side of the main deck. “Soap. Bit of a showboat, that one. Always stirrin’ up the boys, gettin’ ‘em all riled up. Din’y let him distract ye too much.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You look back down at the data sheets in front of you. “I’m not worried though. He hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Famous last words.

He isn’t too much trouble until he suddenly is; until he’s suddenly everywhere, always in your way somehow. Not so much underfoot as just always around the corner waiting with his stupid smug smirk that you’ve grown to despise and half-lidded electric blue eyes roving up and down the length of you. Aggravating you at every turn.

Your first meeting is an accident. At least, it seems that way, and likely is—he seems too blunt for coincidences or chance meetings, happy to tell you to your face that he manipulated the situation in order to get you on your own.

You’re wandering down one of the many circulatory hallways and slightly lost when a door suddenly opens, blocking your way. A jumpsuit-clad man twice your size walks out, his hair just brushing the top of the doorframe. Though you recognize him instantly, you’d never gotten close enough for the details to cement in your mental image of him. Up close, you get a better look.

The faint lines around his eyes and mouth betray either his age or the life he’s lived. Weathered; bronzed from days at a time spent under the sun. You’d noticed the mohawk earlier, but staring at the side of his head now, you can see the faint puckering of a healed wound splintering out from his temple into his hairline. Though the sides of his head are freshly shorn, the scar looks old—maybe a year, maybe more.

When he notices that he’s not alone in the hall, his head turns in your direction and he stops, one foot still in the other room. Two thick brows go up at the sight of you standing there with your tablet clutched to your chest.

“Hullo gorgeous,” Soap purrs, pupils suddenly pinpricks and your stomach drops.

Because of course he would. You’d long figured he might be an arrogant piece of work from what little you’ve observed of him from across the rig, but you should’ve known he’d also be a flirt. He’s too good-looking not to be one. Tall and broad, with biceps the size of your head. You’re sure he rolls his shirt sleeves up just to feel them strain against the muscles of his arms. You certainly can’t help the way your eyes are drawn there.

“Ah ken who ye are,” he says, taking a step towards you until the tips of his boots nearly touch yours. The door is still wide open behind him, swinging slowly towards the wall behind it. Soap towers over you easily, tipping his head to stare down at you. Your lips press into a tight line when his eyes drop to your chest, staring at the outline of your tits through your cardigan.

“Okay,” you say through stiff lips.

“Yer that lass from the government. Ah thought ye'd be auld,” he jokes, shit-eating grin on his face.

You nearly groan. It’s too early for this shit and you’re too tired from being up all night working on your report on the rig’s discharge water quality.

“Well, I’m not,” you reply woodenly instead, altogether unimpressed with him.

For as fit as he is, you’re not here to flirt or hookup, and you’re good at separating work and your personal life. If anyone manages to get under your skin enough to tempt you, it won’t be the man undressing you with his eyes while covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat.

“Nae, yer no’,” he agrees, voice a low burr. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m John, by the way.”

“I know.”

“…It’s polite tae give yer name when someone introduces thersel's tae ye.”

“I’d rather you just call me doctor.”

“Doctor, eh?” Soap purrs, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Dae ye dae house calls, doc? Hae been feelin’ a wee bit feverish lately.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat at his comment. “Not that kind of doctor. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

“Jesus, I din’y ken ye’d be so fuckin’ prickly. Thought ye government workers were cheery a' the time.”

“Not when we have work to do,” you bite out, decidedly uncomfortable with his shameless perusal and eager just to get on with your day. “Can you move please? I have somewhere to be.”

All that does is force him to take another step closer, toe-to-toe with you now. You should’ve known he’d take that as an invitation. He reeks of grease and brine, the smell pungent and clinging to his skin and clothes. Almost like he sleeps and works in the same pair of coveralls instead of bringing his dirty clothes down to the laundry facility like everyone else at the end of the week.

You tell yourself to stop staring at where his coveralls open to a sweat-slicked chest, dark hair poking up over the neckline, but your eyes don’t comply. A small cross dangles from a chain around his neck, nestled in the hair just above his pecs.

“Good Catholic lass, are ye?” Soap asks, noticing the focal point of your gaze.

You scrunch up your nose at that. “No. I didn’t—it’s none of your business anyway.”

The stutter is where his eyes light up, a little gleam in the blue that lets you know you’ve caught his interest. Like seeing a storm well off in the distance and bracing for it anyway, knowing that you’re in its path no matter what you do.

“A’right, doc, Ah'll leave ye tae it. Gotta get back myself anyway,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and standing up taller, and it’s only in that moment that you realize how low his neck had been bent in order to get closer to you. “Wait. I can’y let ye go lookin’ like that.”

You’re about to ask him what he means when he suddenly grabs you by the front of your cardigan and pulls you towards him, getting the grease on his hands all over the fabric. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as he pops the topmost button into its corresponding hole, the only one you’d left purposefully loose.

The only reason you don’t snap at him to take his hands off you is because your tongue is a knot in your throat.

“There we go,” Soap coos when the button is in, looking down at his handiwork all over the front of your shirt. “Lookin’ like part o’ the crew already.”

Your heart pounds in your chest long after he lets you go. When he steps to the side, the door flush with the wall by now, you dart around him, walking away as fast as your legs can carry you without sprinting. You ignore the way he belts out a laugh at your swift departure. Ignore the way your stomach cramps at the sound as well.

He might end up being more trouble than you thought.

#ceil writing #soap x reader #cod x reader #soap/reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader

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diejager · 3 months ago

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This is omegaverse related so please here me out… What about something different? What about…

Feral Omega?

I’m talking like, this omega isn’t your typical omega. This omega is downright dangerous, reports of Omega going feral but causes of harm to them due to some omega discrimination.

So what if, reader who is feral omega, is down right butchering enemies. And doesn’t hesitate to almost maul some alpha recruits if they want to mess with her..

Cw: omegaverse, feral!reader, violence, blood, weird pack dynamic, discrimination, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You were a ‘one-of-a-kind’ omega —spoken with utmost reverence by them. You were their strong and independent omega, whispered in crowded halls, mumbled in darkest nights, screamed in busy moments, and kissed to in warm and comfortable beds. You were anything but a strong and dedicated and reliable soldier, someone Ghost had grown to respect after a joint Op, then coaxed to rely on by the others when they saw how welcoming Ghost was and simply how skillful you were at your job.

You were small but spry, less bulky but flexible, weaker but resourceful. You were everything they sought for in an omega. You were so much alike Soap, yet molecularly different. Though it was every alpha’s dream of finding a soft and loving mate to provide and protect for, someone smaller and more fragile than their thick muscles and broad build, there was a thrill in being reminded that they weren’t always at the top, being grounded and brought back down from their high horses. Against all of traditional mating couples, your current age and time had demanded more equal partnering, a relationship where both parties stood on the same ground.

And Ghost and Price thrived on that, their employment demanded a level of independence from their mates and pack mates, the capability of standing on their own and manage grief and stress. That’s where Soap stood, an omega at it’s finest, strong and independent and emotionally knowledgeable, the glue to their pack, and Gaz, the stabiliser, the soft and gentle hand that reminded them of who they were.

Then you came bulldozing through their well-built dynamic: feral and wrathful, full of hate and anger for the world who had wronged you. When the military had rejected you for both your sex and gender, you’d worked up the ranks in the CIA with your blood, sweat and tears, starting from a fresh agent - a rookie - to an experienced one. You’d gotten so far that Laswell had eventually reach out to you, acknowledged by someone so powerful and partnered with The Ghost had gotten you the acknowledgment and respect you’d dreamed of.

It was a rough start with Ghost, but he learned to rely on you as much as you did him, you had formed a mutual understanding that only grew into fondness after meeting the rest of his pack. They were a functioning mix of weird and quirky: a leading alpha that was a big, soft bear, another alpha that was rough on the edge but caring, an overenergetic and fiery omega and a beta that represented everything you liked in one, calm, open-minded and smart. It was odd seeing you join them so often and continuously on Ops that didn’t need much of CIA intervention, but you all made it work.

You’d become a familiar face on base, a blunt and no-nonsense agent to new people, but cracked jokes and smiled with those you knew. Fiercely protective of your pack as much as they were with you. If Soap was a menace, then you were an omen, your deep frown and growling snarl, baring your teeth as a warning before you attacked. The world had taught you to bark and bite —and bite you did, a strong and dangerous one, leaving you bruised and roughed up, but your opponent gasping for life and battered.

Honestly, sometimes you were more trouble than it’s worth, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

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Part 7

Content: sparring and injury

Sparring is one of your favorite activities. With your team, it’s a chance to learn and improve, to keep from falling into old habits. And yes, okay, it’s also become something of foreplay. Especially with your captain, who seems to delight in tossing you around and pinning you with his bulk.

(And Keegan, who came in his pants once when you had him in a chokehold, one your thighs between his. But no, no, now is not the time to think about that…)

You’re not the best hand-to-hand operator on the team, sure. That title belongs to Nikto, who hits so hard and fast you’re down before you even realize he’s swinging. But you’re certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Not this much though.

If you were in the mood to give them credit for anything — and you’re really not — they’re at least subtle. You don’t catch on during the first round with Soap. Your brain has completely transitioned into the comfortable rhythm of practice combat. Something to be taken seriously, but not the high-stress of victory or death in a mission.

No, Soap gets away with it in the moment. You only notice as you’re taking your water break, rotated out with the uneven numbers between your teams. You’re surveying the pairs and notice him sparring with Keegan.

There’s something decidedly more intense about it. Like… like he’s putting real effort into trying to beat Keegan. An effort he did not put into fighting you.

Rage burns through you, hot and thick, buzzing in your head.

Does he think you’re not worth any real effort? Does he think you can’t handle a proper fight, that this is just playtime? Is he really treating you like some fresh-faced recruit that needs to be babied after all this time?

When you captain finishes wiping the floor with Gaz, you go to his side. One look at your face and he knows.

“Whose head is rolling?” He asks, plucking your bottle from your hand for a sip.

“Soap threw our match.”

His eyes flare before he closes them, swallows the water in his mouth and sighs.

“How do you want to handle it?” He asks.

“Wait, wait,” Gaz interrupts. And the look your captain gives him… Christ. To his credit, he doesn’t back down though. “He probably just thought it would be good, yeah? To… let you get some anger out.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, a mean laugh slipping out. The captain arches his eyebrows in what could almost be sympathy. Or arousal, hard to tell when he’s got such a good poker face. (Mix of both, you figure)

“Oh, he wants me to get some anger out?” You roll your shoulders. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Ghost is your last match before reset — before you’ll get a chance to show Soap just how much steam you need to let off.

Except now that you’re looking for it, you recognize almost immediately that he’s throwing the match. Probably especially because it’s Ghost. You never stood a chance against him before leaving, even now you didn’t have optimistic expectations for a fight with him. So the fact that it doesn’t feel like you’re working for every inch you gain…

The final straw is when you try a move from before. Something he never fell for once and always reprimanded you for using. He “falls” for it this time. You don’t pull your punch when it goes directly into his face.

Know immediately that he’s feeling it, that wicked hook Keegan always whistles over. Blinking past his mask. And you don’t let up, pressing and pressing the advantage. Take him down to the ground using all your built strength, twisting into a vicious arm bar and pulling, pulling, pulling—

“Bloody hell, I yield!” He snarls, palm slamming against your thigh.

You release him, but not without one last nasty kick to the soft spot beneath his ribs.

The gym has gone silent. You don’t care, pushing to your feet with hands still balled into tight, angry fists.

“You ever throw a fight with me again, I’ll break your fucking jaw, Riley,” you snarl.

Price, expression stormy, takes a step forward.

“He threw the fight?” He asks.

You scoff, “Either that or the 141’s quality is lacking nowadays.”

You step off the mat to join the rest of your team, exchange a frustrated look with your captain. Nova comes to your side, curling a finger into your belt loop in solidarity.

“Gotta say, Price, I’m disappointed,” your captain says. “This is getting out of control. I won’t have my team put at risk because yours can’t keep it professional. I’d rather just tell Laswell to get you a different support team.”

You’re almost surprised to see how the 141 jolts, four pairs of eyes flicking to you in panic. What in the actual hell?

“Take it easy,” Price says, eyes flashing. “I’ll have a word with them.”

You glance up at your captain, see from the twitch in his jaw and the tightness around his eyes that his patience for this is wearing gossamer thin.

“See to it. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do.”

He turns his back on the 141, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, pressing a kiss to Nova’s cheek when she sends you a worried look. Whatever weird issue the 141 is having, they need to stop making it your issue.

“Keegan, with me,” your captain says. “Nikto, you’re up against the girls.”

Nikto tilts his head in a nod, then jolts as you and Nova take either side of him.

“Gonna show us a good time, Nik?” You coo.

“Always love a tag-team,” Nova purrs.

The captain grins. “Have fun you three.”

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #former 141 reader #specgru reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

Text

Grey

You live a vigilante life, taking down Curses and Curse Users on commission. When finances force you to take a job from Jujutsu High, you find yourself stumbling into Nanami Kento's lap, where he has a proposition for you instead.

ThatHigurumaBathScene! But with Nanami Kento. Post Shibuya AU.

Warnings: AU!MorallyGrey Nanami Kento, Hot/ColdDom Nanami Kento, 18+, deep throat and other goodies, you know what you're here for.

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I hate to say I'm beginning to see My own reflection in my adversaries [...]

What's the price of a soul? What's its worth versus gold? I tried to beg for mine But it was already sold

Does nobody think twice? What does your hell look like? Does everyone have their price? Where they finally break

-- Sylosis, A Sign of Things to Come

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"So what can you tell me about this...Rogue sorcerer, that will make him easier to find?"

The backstreet diner was dimly lit, with a sickly orange light flickering above the window outside. Sounds and smells of greasy cooking seeped into your ears and clothes.

You swirled a spoon in your mug, already pissed off with the Jujutsu High representative, who seemed to find new ways to be spectacularly unhelpful with every answer he gave.

"He uses...a blunt blade of sorts. Wrapped in white cloth. He usually wears a suit. A tall man, I hear."

"Tall and in a suit. Right. That narrows it down. Thanks a lot."

The representative bristled. "You come highly recommended, despite being...unconventional," he sneered at you, "The sorcerer in question has been tracked to somewhere in this vicinity." A marked map, along with a slim folder, was tossed across the table to you. The representative stood, brushing imaginary crumbs off his suit. "You know your task. Convince him to come back and work for Jujutsu High again, or eliminate him. He's too unpredictable. He threatens the fabric of sorcerer society."

You were silent, appraising the folder's contents. "Threatens the fabric of sorcerer society," you scoffed. They said the same about you. Any sorcerer acting independently of the higher-ups' control, whether a danger to good people or not, was seen as a danger, a rogue element. You would make your own assessment of the man, if you found him.

For now, it was late, the sun long gone down. You had insisted upon all expenses paid, alongside a generous wage, and were surprised when your price was agreed upon immediately. As such, a very exclusive hotel had a room reserved for you, for as long as you needed it. It was of no real comfort to your sinking loneliness, but a warm bed came second to a warm companion, when living on the move never guaranteed a good night's sleep. Picking up the folder and your bags, you headed to your hotel, to begin your hunt for the nameless rogue sorcerer first thing in the morning.

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The hotel had a beautiful restaurant, you considered, sipping your wine with quiet hums of approval. Leaning forwards, your chin on your arched fingers, you pondered over dessert. As you perused the menu, you barely glanced at the tall figure pressing briefly against your side on his way past your table.

"Excuse me," murmured a low, smooth voice. A spiced, warm cologne filled your senses as you turned briefly, watching a tall blond figure walk away from you. You thought nothing more of it.

After dinner, on your way up the hotel room's corridors, you felt through all of your pockets, certain you had picked up your key card, but hopelessly unable to find it.

By the time you reached room number seventy-three, you were forced to accept you had lost it. Yet, you were about to turn on your heels and head back to Reception when you noticed the door, already slightly open. Sensing a trap, and holding little but disdain for traps, you walked in with confidence, closing the door behind you, locking it.

Scanning the room, you called out; "I'm not that easily spooked. I'm not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with me."

You heard a low, sultry chuckle from the bathroom, the gentle swish of water sounding as something shifted in it. You may have been forced to eat your words, when a rush of Cursed energy that was so powerful, so heavy, hit you, a sandstorm on a desert. You had a sinking realisation that your rogue sorcerer may have hunted you down, before you'd hunted him.

"Are you going to come in?" the smooth voice called from the bathroom, as you forced yourself to take a breath. "I don't bite." Shaking yourself off, you pressed your body flat to the wall, concealed, as you pulled open the bathroom door. A few moments passed, and nothing happened. You heard the man, humming a song to himself. Slow swishes of water.

Glancing in, your tummy twisted as you took in the sight before you. Lying spread-eagled in the full bathtub, fully-clothed, was a man as well-grown and vast as his Cursed energy. Long legs, clad in an expensive black suit, and thick thighs pressed over the lip of the tub, wet clothes clinging to every peak and mountain of the man's body, leaving little to the imagination. In his hands, a small pair of dark glasses. His face, as of yet, not visible, but his left hand and his neck were covered in thick, red burn scars.

"Somebody's been using my bath," you offered, more nervous than you sounded. Heat pooled in your belly as the man chuckled again.

"Does that make me Goldilocks?" he asked, "I always thought I was more of a Daddy Bear." He lifted his head, looking at you now, and you blushed. Outstandingly handsome, even with deep scarring, you groaned inwardly to yourself, why are the problematic ones always so handsome?

"I've heard a lot about you," the blond man mused, swirling the water with his fingertips, his visible slim brown eye burning up and down your body, and you felt so completely seen, feeling his gaze burn even through his eye patch.

Outwardly cool, you smiled slightly at him, eyes narrowing; "Then you probably already know what I'm here for." The man sighed, in equal measures amused and exasperated.

"Jujutsu High have been after me returning to their sloppy little books for years. What did they think sending you after me would do?" He polished his glasses, before looking to you sternly, "Unless they've recruited you, hmm? Is that it? Are you a honey-trap?" You scoffed, your blush only deepening, much to the blond man's amusement. Swiftly and to your alarm, the man began to climb out of the bath, water cascading off him. Your stomach clenched again, desire coiling within. This man is an Adonis.

He raised his hand to you as you flinched, reaching for your weapons; "Calm down. I have no interest in hurting you." The man straightened, dropping his suit-jacket to the floor with a wet slap. "Those pieces of shit at Jujutsu High, however..." He approached you slowly now, looming over you, disgust in his eyes, "...who have no regard for your wellbeing, or any of their own sorcerers and students for that matter, would happily send you to try to threaten me back, even when they know it would be a fight you could never win."

He pressed against the wall above your head with his forearm now, leaning down to your ear and whispering.

"What was it you said, Little Bear? I'm not trapped in here with you; you're trapped in here with me." Your heart thumped behind your breasts, but you raised your head to meet his eye, one hand on his chest to prevent him getting any closer. He grasped your hand, pressing it to him, "The name's Nanami Kento. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Shit shit shit. "Nanami Kento? The Nanami Kento?" you cried, "They sent me after you? You're not even--" you faltered, and Kento smirked as you caught on.

"Not even, strictly speaking, a Curse User, no," he finished for you, "Just not at their beck and call. I hunt what I want, when I want. Freelance, if you will. Just like you, Little Bear. So tell me, are you in such dire straits, a talent such as yourself, that you needed to accept me as a job?"

You huffed, head turning to the side, and Kento traced his eyes down your breasts, hardening inside his wet trousers.

"You don't only kill Curses, Nanami," you deferred, "you're a man-killer too. Your kill count is impressive to say the least."

Kento eyed you shrewdly, voice low and slow, "Would you call them men? Rapists, abusers, murderers...there are all sorts of monsters in this world." You gulped. You didn't disagree with him. It was becoming rapidly apparent that you could not complete this job. Despite his assurances that he would not hurt you, his huge frame blocking your exit, the way he had stolen your key card at the restaurant to intercept you, and the threat you posed to his vigilantism, spoke differently.

"You could always come with me," Kento purred, "we're kindred spirits already. And a bit of company might be a pleasant change. I'll pay you whatever they promised." His soft assurances were warm and honeyed against your ear, and you felt acutely how lonely you were.

"I don't need your money," you spat, pushing him away now, furious with yourself for even considering his offer. Kento stepped reluctantly away from you, a prize which he had every reason to allow himself to be caught by. You, the stories of whose exploits Kento had drank up, coming to hunt him down? He was flattered and thrilled when his informant at Jujutsu High warned him.

"Imagine what a team we could be," Kento growled, pacing in front of you, incensed that you couldn't see how simple and beautiful the solution could be.

In truth, you saw it. You saw yourself working with this man on your shared aims. You saw yourself ridding the world of Curses and monsters without agenda, but with him. It was with a sinking feeling that you knew if you chose to go with Nanami, the brittle mutual understanding you had with Jujutsu High to leave you alone as long as you offered them occasional services, would be lost. You risked becoming an enemy, a rogue element like him.

"It's not what I came here for," you responded stiffly, Kento wide-eyed with fury at your rejection, scarred skin strained against his eye patch. You straightened, putting a brave face on your fragile resolve as you turned your back on him, grabbing the door handle. "I won't be coming with you. I'll tell Jujutsu High exactly what you think of their offer. It won't be me who bothers you anymore."

As you moved to leave, you felt strong, corded arms move around you to hold the door closed, one wrapping tightly around your waist. Your heart nearly leapt out of your mouth.

"Stay," Kento urged, pulling you back to him.

"I thought you killed rapists," you spat at him. His arms stiffened around you.

"Please, don't compare me to scum. I don't need to rape you to get you into bed with me." Despite yourself, your pulse throbbed in your ears, and between your legs. "You're lonely. I'm lonely. We have shared goals. We could defy their system together." His mouth ghosted against your neck and he was delighted to feel you shiver against his tongue.

Feeling bolder, Kento laid his hand over the back of yours, grasping, and pressing them flat together against the wall. As he leant you forwards, his teeth sank into the back of your neck, and the wetness from his suit seeped through your clothes. He was so close, you couldn't tell where you began and he ended. The urge to give in was dizzying, images of chasing a different life with this man rushing through you a mile a minute, and you felt him pause for a moment, shivering against you.

"Cold," he murmured on your neck. "Have you ever taken a bath in your clothes?" You couldn't answer him, too overwhelmed by the press of his cock, insistently rigid, against your back. He kissed your neck again, hard. "Just to feel something." His fingers, cool and rough, slipped underneath the bottom of your shirt, nails grazing against the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"I don't...Nanami, I'm not..." He groaned, still breathing heavily against you.

"I want you," he intoned against you, "Maybe you can have something better than what you came here for."

"You're...you're a stranger to me," you gasped, resolve crumbling, body crying out for affection and release.

"I don't have to be," Nanami pressed, squeezing your hand, joined with his against the wall, "so let me show you what being needed really is...and then you can decide what you want to tell Jujutsu High."

Kento turned you round to face him, his one visible warm brown eye hooded with desire, beginning to unbutton his own shirt as he stroked your jaw, maintaining eye contact. You stared him down, vulnerable, tearful and overwhelmed. His thumb swiped across your eyes, hushing you softly.

"I know you don't want me to stop...do you?" he purred, his voice low and dangerous. You trembled, never wanting to find companionship like this, but sinking into Nanami's insistent control felt so intoxicating. Increasingly fearful of your own desires, you backed away to the wall again, pursued by Nanami, who blocked you in place, his knee pressed against the wall and between your legs.

"Please..." you began, begging him for...what? Pleasure? Or escape? You warred with yourself, as Nanami finished removing his shirt, wet and peeled off his body, and gods was he a sight to behold. His taut muscles and roughly hewn burn scars drew your eyes to his chest, drinking him in. Nanami smirked, tilting your chin up to him and pulling you in firmly for a kiss which broached no argument. You gasped at the sudden intrusion and Nanami took full advantage, plundering his tongue into your mouth, filling your senses with whiskey and smoke. Your arms, numb with shock, were grasped by Nanami, one by the wrist and placed against his burned chest, and one slipped under his belt, your palm flat against the trail of hair on his abdomen, just deep enough for your fingertips to graze the base of his cock.Your fingertips flinched back, and Nanami's hand pressed over yours, holding your fingers in place, his tongue trembling against yours as he shivered.

"Do you want me to stop?" he rumbled again, his mouth beginning to make a course down your jaw and neck. Leaning away momentarily, he read your face, flushed with pleasure, tears of rage in your eyes. Nanami chuckled behind your ear, nipping your earlobe hard until you squeaked and cringed. You didn't want him to stop, but couldn't be a part of making this decision for yourself. Nanami pushed your hand deeper behind his belt, the flat of your palm now pressed hard against his throbbing erection, happy to make the decision for you. Tentatively, you squeezed him, cock pulsing enticingly against your fingers, and he groaned into your mouth.

Nanami's last reservations about your willingness fell away completely, and he grabbed your jaw roughly, his hand extending to your throat and squeezing the sides, deepening his kiss. You squeaked again, your nails digging into his chest, heat flooding through you as he maintained the pressure of your hand holding his cock behind his belt, rutting forwards into your palm. Nanami felt his pleasure beginning to peak, too early, and held his hips and your hand still for a moment,your panting breaths mingling together.

Silent, heart visibly racing through the thick veins in his neck, Kento dropped to his knees in front of you. His expression stern, determined, he gripped the front seam of your trousers and ripped them open as if they were made of paper, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time, daring you to stop him. Lifting your thighs onto his shoulders as you gasped, wordless and chest heaving, your hands fell flat against the wall behind you, and Nanami rubbed his nose and lips against your puffy folds, all but completely exposed behind your soaked underwear. You clapped your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out as he inhaled deeply through his nose, euphoric in the smell of you.

"Do you want me to stop?" he hummed, the vibrations rumbling through your clit as you moaned, a high-pitched keening sound. Instinctively, both hands came off the wall to sink into Nanami's damp blond hair, pulling hard at the roots, holding his face between the heat of your legs. Rumbling his approval, Nanami's fingers swiped your underwear to the side, his tongue delving deeply between your folds, immediately beginning to flick insistently over your clit.

All rational thoughts went out of the window as Nanami licked and sucked between your legs, full attention paid to your pleasure, as you fell apart around him, thighs squeezing his head. Nanami's strong hands cupped your bum through your trousers, kneading the plush fat as he took your clit into his lips and sucked, feeling you shake as you approached the edge.

"Do you want me to stop?" he growled, and you couldn't stop yourself from whining your displeasure as he halted just before your orgasm hit you. Giving you no chance to answer, he took your clit firmly between his lips again, mouth and tongue hot and wet between your folds as you came, crying out and trembling, both hands clawing desperately at his hair, blinded by the peppering lights in your eyes.

Giving you no time to snap back to reality, you felt yourself being lifted and heaved over Nanami's shoulder. He kicked the bathroom door open, carrying you through to the bedroom and lounge, dimly lit by the Tokyo skyline outside. Nanami dropped you on your back onto the table, positioning you until your head hung off the edge. Neck extended as you stared up at him, panting, eyes glazed, Nanami hummed as he slowly fingered the outline of your throat, his other hand undoing his belt. You gulped, mouth watering as you realised his intentions.

Lifting his heavy cock out of his trousers, Nanami began to stroke it, thumb swiping across the leaking tip, and he looked down at you, pupils blown with lust. He pressed two fingers into your mouth, shuddering with anticipation as he felt your tongue run against his fingers, licking the precum off his fingertips.

"Do...you want me to stop?" He forced out, pupils dilating as you opened your mouth for him slowly, invitingly. "Oh, fuck," groaned Nanami, pressing his length past your lips, hissing as the sensitive tip glided over your tongue and hit the back of your throat, curving to its shape, and he bucked into you, hands gripping your jaw and throat with bruising force as you gagged around him.

Nanami pulled out for long enough for you to take a deep breath through your nose, before fucking your throat with total abandon. Your wet gags and sloppy occasional breaths sent him reeling, his fingers resting on the outer edges of your throat thrilling him as he felt his cock bully past them. Hearing Nanami cursing, his voice breaking with stuttered moans, you felt heat coil in your belly, hands reaching out to grip his wet thighs to ground yourself. You felt so used, eyes streaming into your hair as he reached down your body, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reached between your legs and curved two fingers up into your pussy, still wet from his tongue, his thumb swiping urgently over your clit. You convulsed, your hypersensitive clit tossing you into a painful second orgasm as your muscles fluttered against his curled fingers.

"Do you...do you want-- ahhh, fuck, take it take it, you're such a good girl," Nanami caged youin, hands flat on the table beside your waist, his balls hot and heavy against your nose as he came with a shout, rivers of cum trickling down your throat as you gagged, nails digging into his thighs as he rutted into your mouth, stunned by the strength of his orgasm. He pulled out of your mouth, sweaty and panting, his abs heaving in front of your face, stroking drops of his seed away from the sides of your mouth as you gasped and coughed on the table.

"Not enough," he gasped, stroking himself, half-hard already as the sight of you, spread and messy with cum on the table, "it's not enough. I'm not finished with you yet." You began to sit up, turning on the table, moving slowly towards him as he spoke again, stumbling and sweating, "Do you want me to--" Nanami was cut off by your kiss, forceful and determined as you locked your arms behind his neck.

Groaning appreciatively, carrying your weight as you locked your legs around his waist, Nanami stumbled to the bed, kicking off his trousers and beginning to rip your clothes off you. Your breasts freed, he latched aggressively onto your nipples, growling against you, completely absorbed in his plan to pound you into the mattress until you saw stars.

You bit into his shoulder blade as your trousers and underwear were flung unceremoniously aside, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your entrance, where he bottomed out in one smooth thrust, making you shriek as your pussy stretched, and you grasped onto him as you struggled to accommodate his size. Unexpectedly intimate, Nanami clasped his hand to yours, joined as he braced on his forearm above your head.

"I can't...I can't stop," Nanami choked out, slamming into you with a force that had you reeling. Barely held in place as his hips slammed yours up the bed, you locked your ankles behind Kento's hips, and he grasped you, pressing your knees to your chest until you were folded in two. Feeling his eye patch about to slip loose, and momentarily afraid you'd be disgusted by him, Nanami buried his face in your neck, grunting with every thrust as you mewled in his ear, your fingers deep in his hair, causing shivers down his spine.

You groaned, sultry and guttural, as his thick cock pounded your cervix, shuddering as you came, heat deep in your belly as Kento collapsed onto you, weak and drained as his seed filled you again, so overwhelmed by pleasure that he thought he may have seen god for a moment.

Flopping beside you on the bed, Nanami patted around above your head for his eye patch. Your hand reached up, grabbing his, lowering it to clasp together between your bodies. Nanami felt his chest clench, momentarily touched by your companionship and easy acceptance of his broken body.

"...what the hell am I going to tell Jujutsu High?" You groaned, as Nanami laughed richly, shooting you a wicked look.

"You'll come with me, then?"

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himasgod · 15 days ago

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Kinich x Reader

(0.6k words. I hadn't dared to write about Kinich, but after reading his story and playing with him, I felt like it! Remember that I appreciate every comment, like or repost, they make my day! Also, I accept requests! Enjoy <3)

Where he realizes that you are more valuable to him than the Mora

The air in the mountains of Natlan was harsh and wild, like Kinich. The silence between the two of you, after weeks of roaming those inhospitable places, had become almost comfortable. You both knew the other was there without the need for words, but that day something was different. The tension was felt in every step, in the way his hands tightened the straps of his equipment.

"Why do you always accept the most dangerous missions?" You dared to ask as you followed his determined walk. Kinich, with his gaze fixed on the horizon, did not answer you right away. You usually received direct, raw answers, but this time it seemed that he was meditating on the words.

"Because it is what will bring me more Moras." His answer finally came, as simple as you had imagined.

You stopped, feeling a lump in your chest. Of course, he always talked about Moras, about the tangible rewards he longed for. It was his way of seeing the world, of understanding value. But you knew there was more behind those words. The Kinich you knew, though sometimes cold and calculating, had shown himself to have a much deeper spirit, one that perhaps he himself did not fully understand.

“Is that all that matters? The Mora?” You tried to keep your voice calm, but you couldn’t stop a hint of frustration from creeping in.

He stopped as well, his green eyes meeting yours. A spark of something indecipherable crossed his gaze before his expression returned to that familiar hardness. “What else should matter? We are not born heroes, and no one gives anything in return for nothing.”

You moved closer to him, each step driven by a mix of need and curiosity. He had been by your side in battles, had saved you more times than you could count, but you had never been able to fully decipher what drove him beyond that desire for material rewards. You were so close that you could see the tension in his jaw, the slight flicker in his eyes as he lowered them, perhaps avoiding your scrutiny.

“And me?” you asked quietly, your heart pounding. You weren’t just an adventure partner to him, and you both knew it. But sometimes, Kinich kept you at a distance, as if the price of letting someone get close was too high, even for him.

Kinich raised his head, surprised. For a few seconds, his usual composure seemed to waver, but he quickly regained it. He took a step toward you, his presence as strong and overwhelming as ever, and held your gaze intently. “You’re not a transaction,” he murmured. “You’re…” He swallowed, as if the words were a heavy weight to bear. “You’re important.”

The confession hit you hard, harder than you’d expected. In his own world of Moras, bounties, and contracts, you had found a special place. You weren't just another job, you weren't a goal to be fulfilled. You had gone from being a simple spectator in his life to becoming someone who could break through his defenses, even if it was just for a moment.

"Does that mean you're staying by my side for more than Moras?" You gave him a half-smile, one that Kinich only reserved for you in special moments.

He didn't respond immediately, but instead of words, he let his actions speak for him. With a calculated and agile movement, like the hunter he was, he enveloped you in an unexpected, but firm hug. It wasn't soft or delicate, but it was real. Like everything Kinich did.

"I'm staying because you're someone worth fighting for," he whispered, his voice rough but sincere.

You felt the warmth of his body next to yours, the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you. In the silence of the mountains, you knew that the future of both of you was far from easy, full of challenges and dangers. But at that moment, it didn't matter.

You were with Kinich, and for him, that was more valuable than any reward.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich #kinich x reaader #kinich x you #genshin fanfic #kinich x reader #kinich genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x you

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psychotrenny · 1 year ago

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It’s fucking insane to me how normal Yankee Liberals are about Hawaii. As in like the way they just treat it as an unremarkable fact that their nation controls the island. Like the annexation of Hawaii wasn’t just any old example of Settler-Colonialism, the subjugation of a decentralised non-urbanised people that could be just dismissed as mere “tribes” or what have you. Not to say that such forms of “typical” Settler Colonialism are any less abhorrent or disgusting, just easier to justify from a Liberal point of view. Easier to claim that they weren’t *really* using the land properly or that they were an hopelessly and eternally backwards who only really benefitted from their conquest or that they were doomed and dying anyway and their fate was a mere tragic inevitability not worth dwelling on or… Point is all these arguments are all wrong and stupid and cruel but they can serve well enough to downplay or justify such atrocities in the eyes of Imperial Core Liberals.

But like with Hawaii you don’t have that. The Kingdom of Hawai’i was a sovereign state that was internationally recognised as such by the Great Powers of Europe even at the very height of Western Imperialism. Literacy rates were high and compulsory education was introduced in 1841 (pre-dating the US by 77 years), healthcare was given to all Hawai’ian subjects free of charge, Christianity was dominant (so even the most ardent Imperialist couldn’t claim that the people were in the thrall of some “barbaric superstition” that necessitated the “civilising influence” of empire) and it had a well-developed Capitalist economy dominated by Sugar production. Like even if we take the Western model of statehood as the be all end all of what separates the civilised from the savage (to be clear hear you really fucking shouldn’t, but many people do so for a second that’s the frame of reference we’ll employ) then Hawai’i was very much unambiguously the former. But that didn’t stop the US from shamelessly interfering it’s politics Indeed those aformentioned markers of Western-Style “civilisation” and “development” came with the price of allow US missionaries and investors to settler in the islands and become very wealthy and influential. For decades the US used the threat of force to influence the policy decisions of the kingdom, going as far as to regularly send warships in a classic display of “gunboat diplomacy”. In 1887 a US settler militia called the First Honolulu Rifles staged a coup where they forced Kalākaua to accept a new Constitution that heavily favoured the interests of USamerican settlers who had grown very wealthy through their investment in sugar production on the island. It stripped the Monarchy of much of its power and introducing requirements for voting that heavily favoured US settlers; re-introducing wealth/property requirements that were now higher than even, allowing resident aliens to vote and just outright banning any Asian immigrants from voting (which at that point had as much to do with plain racial hatred as it did to any acting threat they might have posed). This wasn’t enough for the Yanks and 6 years later a group of 13 US settlers known as the “Committee of Safety” outright overthrew the newly crowned Queen Liliʻuokalani when she refused to co-operate. It existed briefly as an “Independent” USamerican dominated republic before the US government decided to official annex it in 1898 (similar to what you saw with Texas or California).

While incredibly controversial at the time due to both strategic concerns with the annexation of ultramarine territories and some level of outrage at the shameless take-over of a sovereign nation (hence the time gap between the coup and the actual annexation), nowadays Yanks enjoy their control over the island without the slightest care in the world. They even turned it into a tourist destination, a heavily romanticised one that not only receives many millions of visitors every year but is constantly mentioned in the popular culture the US then proceeds to export all over the world, literally revelling in their land that is by literally any definition (even the most nakedly pro-imperialist) stolen. The land itself is severely exploited to the point of significant ecological damage, the indigenous peoples too are exploited as many of them live in poverty while US investors grow wealthy from their land and labour. Even their very culture is stolen and monetised, the most marketable parts bastardised into cheap kitsch and the rest of it left to rot, only kept alive through over a century of continued resistance from the indigenous peoples. It’s a very common story of course, but I think it stands out with how utterly ghoulish it is even under the most Liberal of consistently applied worldviews. It would be like if in say 2007 someone set up Disneyland in Bagdad. And yet by the vast majority of the US (and by extension the vassals states whose view of the situation is filtered through the lens of US media and propaganda) it isn’t seen that way. Hawaii is just the 50th state, the only state outside North America and in the tropics (hahaha ain’t that a neat little fact. Geography is so fun J), an island paradise perfect to visit with the whole family and yet still as American as Apple Pie. Even many self-described “progressives” talk about it in this way, at most mentioning the plight of the indigenous Hawaiians with minimal though as to how this situation came about. Like while the story of Hawaii is far from unique; even in terms of the US doing colonialism to Westernised peoples you examples such as the ethnic cleansing of the Five Civilised Tribes from the Eastern USA, it still stands out to me with the sheer level of international recognition and Western-style development that the Kingdom of Hawai’i possessed. Like it’s just such an obvious example of the naked greed at the heart of the USamerican empire, and how utterly bullshit talk of a “civilising mission” and “spreading democracy” is. No matter what they may claim, no matter what excuses they may trot out, Imperialist rapacity has no limits.

#stella speaks

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eskumii · 1 year ago

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yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere-bnha #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere hcs #incel shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader

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229zmi · 8 months ago

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MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU

Nagi Seishirō/Reader | 1.0k words, fluff, jealous nagi

Nagi, generally, is an apathetic person.

Yet somehow, there’s a taut feeling that twists its way through the gaps of his ribcage, stretching around his heart as his eyes linger on the fabric that hangs around your shoulders. Seeing you on the couch, casually scrolling on your phone while wearing a jacket he can’t recognise as yours or, even better, his as much as he wants to — the sight elicits something that’s not quite a painful feeling, but it isn’t exactly pleasant either, he thinks.

The wheels are still turning in his head when you finally acknowledge his presence with a smile, oblivious to the way he’s not even looking at you when you tell him, “Hey, Sei.”

Instead, he trudges over to you with the same passion as that of a sloth, and his voice comes out small, almost as if that same feeling in his chest has crawled past his shoulder to constrict his throat.

“That jacket— it’s not yours, is it?” It’s plain and simple, the way he states the observation, yet laced with the most marginal hint of spite.

“No, it’s Reo’s,” you confirm without missing a beat, and he narrows his eyes, so subtly that you don’t even catch it. You continue on about how you bumped into Reo by pure coincidence on your way to run an errand and how the weather’s been so volatile lately, oscillating between warm and sunny one day and freezing cold during the next. But Nagi—

Well—

Here’s the thing: as impassive as he is most of the time, Nagi is a great listener when it comes to you.

You’ve always been a priority to him and even more so in that facet. To relish in the fleeting moments of winning a game on his phone, or to know what happens in the latest chapter of his favourite manga as soon as possible — the rush of satisfaction he gets out of those is nice, he supposes, but not worth missing a word of what you say, be it something miscellaneous about your day or the biggest news he’s ever heard in his life.

And certainly, nothing is worth missing the small habits that make themselves known in your conversation, that make up the you he first swore love to near the bench outside the convenience store, holding your favourite snack in one hand and offering his jacket to you with his other because the harshness of springtime winds had swept away any warmth your flimsy sweater could contain.

It’s your facial expressions, your gestures, the way you look toward him at the end of each rambling, as if to ask, Are you listening? So then, he’ll answer— a nod, as if to say, Yes. Of course. Please say more. Because for you, it’s all ears and eyes wide open on his end.

But Nagi, admittedly, isn’t perfect, and this is not a matter of opinion. Even you can see the way he can’t stop staring hard at your jacket as though he’s trying to telepathically morph it into something that looks like it came from his closet instead.

Midway through an elaborate plan to sell the jacket for an outrageously high price on some sketchy website (you’re only half-joking… maybe), you finally notice his distant expression. “…Sei?”

His lack of response is all the confirmation you need for your suspicions. A grin then crosses your face, while your eyes sport a gleam that Nagi recognises as smugness once he eventually tears his focus away from the offending item of clothing.

You say his name again, this time teasingly. Then, “Are you jeal—?”

Your question cuts off unceremoniously when his hands reach over to latch onto the zipper of the jacket, pulling it down before tugging on the fabric near your shoulders. Despite the boldness of his actions, you don’t make any move to stop him as he flings Reo’s jacket across the room, hearing it land on the floor with a satisfying sound.

Moments later, he shrugs his jacket off in one smooth motion and then drapes it over your body. With his large palms smoothing over the fabric against your upper arms, it’s such a sweet gesture that you can’t find it in yourself to complain, although the opportunity to poke fun at him is hard to let slip.

“Woah, there.” Cheekily, you brush that one abnormally long part of his bangs away from his face and poke the tip of his nose, to which he responds with his signature pout before burying his face into the crook of your neck. As your back hits the cushion of the arm rest behind you and your hands come up to comb through his hair, you feel a bout of warmth surge through your collarbone area, accompanied by the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“I’m not jealous.”

A smile dances around the corners of your mouth despite your efforts to conceal it. “Really?” you say. “I think you are.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles. “You can’t prove it.”

“I mean. You’re kinda all over me right now.”

He huffs at the flurry of giggles that tumble from your mouth boundlessly, like clothes spilling out of an overpacked suitcase. Though, when your laughter finally simmers down and humour seems to have come to a standstill in your conversation, sentimentality weaves its way into your voice, in between mixed undertones of reassurance and leftover amusement.

(Because what you’re about to say is nothing but the truth itself: ardent and vulnerable, despite the sheer casualness in the way you present it.)

“You’re the only one my heart beats for, Seishirō.”

Lazily, he peers up at you. “Promise?”

“I promise. Besides,” you add, snuggling deeper into the collar of his jacket, “your jacket’s way warmer, anyway.”

That could be attributed to the fact that he has practically become your personal heater by sprawling his body over yours on the couch. Nevertheless, the envious fangs surrounding Nagi’s heart slacken, and with your fingers brushing through his hair once again, he can’t help himself from murmuring into your skin, sounding more relieved than he has ever sounded, “Good.”

#nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #229ZMI

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queenhunter102 · 9 months ago

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NSFW

I mean it! this is not meant to be consumed/ read or seen by minors, this is WHOLE SMUT WITH LITTLE IF ANY PLOT, so please If you're a minor, stay away, Contents: Back shots, Sex!, masturbation, edging (Male), blue balls (Six months worth) and orgasms (Of the male kind, ya' welcome Ghost)

Simon was on the verge of Cumming he had been for an hour now, but the way you bounced back, your ass meeting his thighs, had his cock twitching and his eyes rolling, he gripped your hips driving you harder onto his cock, as he moaned, begged really, to feel you cum for the 6th time tonight, he had not touched you nor heard your voice in six months, SIX MONTHS, it was rough the first few days but he still had your smell that stuck to his clothes. While he fucked his fist, he still had the memory of the way you felt, the way you sounded while he pounded into you, but then came week three and he would get hard, but the glorious ending that eye-rolling, back arching, head tilting, toe-curling, moan so loud that you alert everyone what you are doing never came, he tried really he did, every night he would wrap his hand around his cock and move. But nothing, his cock would get harder and harder, it twitching in his hand, his balls drawing close as he felt himself hurtle close to the edge, and nothing, he groaned in frustration, as he felt himself slowly sink from that edge, he would bang his head off the wall, as he tugged harder, he would be so rough and mean to his poor weeping cock that it would begin to hurt. this continued for six. Whole. Months. Back and forth reaching the edge that never came, he would get so frustrated, that his poor teammates, his brothers in arms would get the brunt of it, his angry lashings, his aggressive off time, the snapping, the violent takedowns, this man can not function in a world where he is so close to the edge and unable to finish. Price would get so many complaints about that on the day they were travelling back, Price would bring it up to Simon, but Simon would shrug him off, growling and grunting at him, Price raised his hands and walked away, but when they landed and Simon saw you there your arms wide and that sweet smile he missed, his cock would grow hard in an instant making him go light headed, forcing him to grab onto Johnny. He was quick to let go of Johnny, leaving the confused man behind as he embraced you, picking you up and forcing your legs around his waist, allowing him a chance to grind his cock into you, his eyes rolling back, as he bite his lip almost drawing blood, to stop himself from moaning. And now here he was, blowing your back out, his hands pinning you down in downward doggy, as he felt it, that high, the edge hurtling towards him, he moaned loud enough for your upstairs neighbours to bang on your ceiling telling him to shut up, be he couldn’t his body had locked in this position as his hips stayed pressed against your ass, he began micro thrusts, as he slowly felt like he could move again, but each thrust had him shaking and moaning, his cock so very overstimulated from the months of not Cumming.

#captain price x reader #ghost riley #johnny mactavish x reader #captain price #cod mw22 #cod smut #cod story #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #johnny mactavish #captain john price #john price #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #john mctavish #john mctavish x reader

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with-my-calamitous-love · 2 months ago

Note

' i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you ! (t.s) ' for dabi? something that ends sweet though please i have seen too much angst for my poor baby 🥹 congrats on 700 lovey <3

cruel summer mentioned !

“i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you.”

(touya todoroki.)

it was no secret to dabi, or to touya as you came to know him, housed many secrets.

he had seen the world for what it could be, for the cruel people hidden behind ingenuity. he knew that family was simply a concept, that trust was a product of stupidity, and that loving someone as bad as him was like a fever dream high.

once he’s met you, most of those beliefs stay the same.

you’re now the one person he can’t lose. he knows your likely to become a point of interest for many people, perhaps enemies of his, or even heroes with their twisted sense of right and wrong. so he does everything in power to ensure you’re kept hidden away.

whether its through sneaking the garden gate in the dead of night, or treating your relationship like a shiny toy with a price. he hates it, though you insist its okay. he hates that you two constantly have to be looking over each others shoulders, holding hands through dark alleyways and burning down anyone interested in sight seeing the two of you.

but its almost romantic, for touya at least.

he’s seen what happens when a relationship is too publicized. he’s seen the absolute shit-show endeavour has put on for the media, letting everyone believe that he was a stand up family man, who loved his wife and his kids. he watched as the old bastard easily manipulated the crowds, only showing any semblance of care for his wife when the cameras were around. and if anyone were to see anything otherwise, he’d shut them up with a check.

so when it comes to you, nothing is for show. he would die for you in secret.

and god, loving touya is a reward all in its own.

the shape of his body is blue, ice cold exterior with a heart only you can melt. the feeling you get is a cruel kind of love, the one that keeps you tossing and turning at night. its heaven and hell melted together to love him, when he kisses you and when he’s holding you. there were no rules, no cameras flashing or eyes watching in this breakable heaven.

and so, touya still hates keeping secrets. he hates his sneaking around, his constant paranoia that you’re in danger. he thinks “i love you” is the worst thing he’s ever heard. but when he’s with you, all of it becomes worth it. you seal his fate.

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paradiseprincesss · 4 months ago

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dangerous woman | jonathan crane

i'm sure everyone is familiar with the album cover of "dangerous woman" and what she's wearing on it. if you don't, then i feel like the outfit and nickname won't make sense in this fic !!!

summary: you've been stealing the scarecrow's fear toxin for months, and finally, he catches you red handed.

warnings: smut, p in v, bondage, rough sex, general adult content lol, MDNI 18+ only

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

you’d been stealing the scarecrow’s fear toxin for months now — and you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you.

it was profitable, okay? you would steal his supply, leaving him empty handed, and selling it at a much higher price to the criminals of gotham city. easy money, light work. simply put, you were running him out of his own business.

jonathan was growing increasingly more frustrated with this mysterious thief that was stealing his supply — it’d been months and yet he couldn’t catch the guy. “the guy” — yes, he thought perhaps this was the work of one of the many dangerous men in gotham.

this type of organized, deliberate crime couldn’t possibly be done by a woman working all alone — wrong. he was so wrong. this was exactly the type of crime that would be committed by a woman such as yourself. he was a psychiatrist for crying out loud, shouldn’t it be in his job description to know personality types?

jonathan had his goons working overtime, keeping a keen eye on the drug shipments, but it was no use — you were one step ahead of jonathan every time. jonathan was ready to snap his glasses in two at this point. for someone who was trained in human behavior and complex criminal psychology, you would think he would be able to detect a pattern by now.

tonight, you had big plans — you were going to steal his toxin from his warehouse directly.

forget shipments and hideouts, this time you were going big or going home. it was all or nothing — and right now, you wanted it all.

your fitted, latex, corset-esque bodysuit clung to your figure as did your matching, latex thigh-high pleasers. the cherry on the top was the black bunny ears you accessorized with.

sure, it was a little risque, even bordering on kinky, but hey — it screamed dangerous woman. it was like wearing a caution sign but in the best way.

something that said: “i bite.”

dressed in your usual attire, you head to his warehouse in the dead of night. you sacrificed a prolific amount of late nights to figure out the location of this warehouse, but it would all be worth it once you were drowning in piles of cash after profiting off of his toxin.

you’d been watching him for months — you even knew where he lived. you knew his profession, his full legal name, where he grew up, what type of food he ordered the most when he got takeout…

but what can i say? you were dedicated to your job — your morally dubious and ethically questionable job, but still a job nonetheless!

you strategically checked every entrance point of his warehouse (which, by the way, took a total of two hours of driving and twenty minutes of walking in high heels to get to!), making sure that there were no cameras or potential threats waiting outside. once you decided it was safe, you went through the back door.

how, you ask? well, it was simple — you had a key replicated ages ago when you’d first broken into his office back at arkham asylum. in fact, you had all of his keys replicated. you know, just in case.

stop asking why — it was for personal reasons!

after sneaking into the warehouse, you flicked on the lights and started to rummage around immediately. you came here for one thing and one thing only; fear toxin — and lots of it. you looked up at the ceiling as if some higher power up above would answer your calls. please, you thought, show me what i'm looking for.

god was your witness that night — and your prayers were answered.

…just not in the way you thought they’d be.

as you were bent over, half hidden behind a bunch of empty crates, you were digging through piles of miscellaneous items. you were locked and loaded, so very focused on the task at hand, that you didn’t hear the front door creaking open quietly.

jonathan heard shuffling once he entered his warehouse, the lights being turned on clearly indicated someone was here. jonathan did not panic, however — he believed that the feeling of panic and anxiety was useless to the human body. how could he make rational decisions when his mind was filled with the what if’s?

he was certain that this time, he’d caught the thief that had been stealing his toxin red handed — finally. however, as he got closer to you, he realized that you were not at all what he was imagining you to be. as he inched closer and closer, he saw two little bunny ears peeking above some empty crates.

he silently made his way around the crates, only to be met with a sight that caused his jaw to drop slightly and his cheeks to turn pink.

you were bent over in your latex bodysuit, on your knees, rummaging through a pile of random things and the best part? you were completely oblivious to the scarecrow standing directly behind you, watching you poke your ass out as the bunny ears on your head moved every time your head did.

jonathan cleared his throat, causing you to startle. you turned around as a small gasp left your lips. once you looked up at him, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes — they were so blue. he seemed to have noticed you staring though, as he raised a brow and gave you an opportunity to explain yourself silently.

“um,” you started a little nervously, “hey?”

you mentally face palmed yourself — all you could come up with was an “um, hey?” so much for being one step ahead all the time.

“that’s quite the costume you have on," jonathan said smoothly, looking at you through the frames of his glasses. “i assume you’re the one who’s been stealing my supply?”

you stayed silent as he loomed over you — he was tall. very tall. he was still standing above you as you sat almost obediently on the cold, concrete floor of the warehouse. empty handed at that.

“listen, bunny,” he continued, “do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?”

finally, you found your voice. “i do — that’s why i did it.”

“is that right?” jonathan said, crouching down so that he was now at your level. you felt awfully immature; but it was kind of…exhilarating. to be in the presence of someone so dangerous, just like you. “you’re not what i was expecting.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head to emphasize your question. his eyes darted to your black bunny ears, then back to your face. he didn't answer your question, but instead, he reached his hand out towards you.

hesitantly, you took a hold of it as he helped you up. “do you always go around stealing what doesn’t belong to you in outfits so…promiscuous?” he asked, eyeing your body up and down shamelessly.

“...i’ve never done anything like this before,” you admitted shyly, watching his eyes trail along every part of you. “i get off on the thrill, mostly.”

jonathan almost choked when he heard your response — if he wasn’t so attracted to you, he would’ve sprayed an extra concentrated dose of fear toxin in your face. he was standing so close to you now that you could smell his cologne — montblanc, if you remembered correctly.

“maybe we could work out a deal,” he suggested, his voice low and almost…sultry. “i won’t kill you or turn you into the feds — if you give me what’s mine.”

a feeling of sheer panic surged through your veins; you’d already sold all the drugs you seized from him. it’s not like you just could get any of it back, and now your life was on the line.

“i-i already sold the drugs—”

“not that,” he reprimanded, eyeing you down hungrily, “i think you know where i'm going with this.”

you stared at him blankly for a moment before you felt your cheeks heat up at his insinuation. he didn’t want the drugs, no — he wanted you. according to jonathan, you were his now.

i mean, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

jonathan was not one to fall so easily, but once he laid his eyes on you, his heart stopped. a beautiful, young, witty woman who was also a thrill seeking, danger loving felon? you were just asking to be his. it didn’t help that you came dressed like you were a triple-x star, either.

“well, what’s it going to be, bunny?” he asked softly, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“what tough choices,” you pouted, looking up at him as you feigned distress, “i don't know what i'm going to do, jonathan.”

he paused, his hand coming to grab your face gently. “how do you know my name?” he asked, his tone sharp.

“i know everything about you — i've been watching you for months.”

he was silent as his jaw clenched slightly. a tell that his calm, collected persona was about to crumble at any given moment — you had him where you wanted him. “i see,” he replied calmly, “i should have you admitted to arkham, really. something is very wrong inside of that pretty little head of yours.”

you didn’t say anything back, but you bit your lip softly whilst looking into his impossibly blue eyes.

that, however, seemed to be the trigger that pushed jonathan over the edge, because suddenly, he had you pressed up against the cold cement walls of his warehouse. your ass was pressed up against the obvious tent in his pants as your face was met with the rough texture of the cement.

“i’m going to test your limits,” he breathed, “a little experiment between you and i.”

“i live for danger,” you mumbled against the wall, not letting up as he continued to threaten you. his threats were fuelling you, if anything — didn’t he hear you when you said that you got off on the thrill of things?

“prove it, bunny,” he challenged, and you pushed away from the wall, grabbing him by the tie that hung loosely around his neck.

holding onto it with an iron grip, you brought your lips awfully close to his as you whispered out to him. “take this off,” you instructed, “and tie me up.”

“rope bunny — i should have known.” he teased back, undoing his tie.

roughly, he pulled your body back against his. your ass was flush against his bulge, and he bound your wrists up with his silky, red tie. “walk,” he commanded softly, guiding you into a whole separate room — a room with an old bed.

he helped you sit on the edge of the bed before shutting the door completely, making his way back over to you. with your hands tied, you were limited in terms of mobility, but jonathan's hands were free — and he intended to make very good use of them.

“latex,” he pointed out, reaching over to your bodysuit, “bold choice...but it looks good on you.”

his comment caught you off guard — his tone was far too sweet for what was about to go down. his voice had you in a trance for a moment, but the feeling of him trying to maneuver your garment off of your body brought you back to reality. after a few moments of fumbling with the tight suit, he finally got you out of it.

his lips were on yours in mere seconds, kissing you roughly as he squeezed the sides of your neck gently. he continued to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you both moaned into the steamy kiss. however, after a few minutes, he breathlessly pulled away and took a good look at the sight that was in front of him.

you were suddenly very aware of how exposed you were — it’s not like you wore a bra or any panties underneath your latex bodysuit. there’s nothing quite like the thrill of wearing nothing underneath to get your blood flowing…

he let out a heavy breath, looking slightly disheveled as he took in every inch of your perfect body. the way your tits sat up, the way your skin was slightly flushed, the way you were on display like an art piece at some french museum — you were a divinity.

not to mention those latex thigh-highs that you still had on — and the bunny ears, too. fuck, maybe he’d keep you like this. take a picture and frame it to really make a point of you being an art piece for his eyes only.

suddenly, he harshly pushed you down and flipped you around on the bed so that your stomach was against the mattress.

he hoisted your hips upwards, putting you in a face down ass up position. the way he positioned you made how wet you were all the more obvious, your glistening cunt on display for him as he choked back a moan at just the sight of you this powerless.

you heard his pants being unzipped, along with the sound of his belt being undone, and his hard, thick cockhead was brushing up against your sticky folds. he pushed into your tight hole, making the both of you moan. his hands were suddenly reaching for your bound ones, gripping onto the tie as he started to fuck you mercilessly.

“j-jon!” you squeaked out against the sheets as you felt his cock drilling into you at a brutal pace, sure to leave you sore for days to come. “s-slow down, f–uck!”

“you can take it, bunny,” he assured you lowly, continuing to ram into your tight little hole. “you’re going to fucking. take. it.”

you let out a strangled moan, feeling his cock brush up against that spongy spot inside of you over and over again. it was only a matter of time before you were creaming his cock, the angle giving him access to the deepest parts of you. you were certain that at one point, you swore you’d felt him inside of your stomach with how deep and how forcibly he was fucking your cunt.

“is this what you — fuck — wanted, bunny?” he groaned, giving your ass a harsh smack with one hand as the other was still gripping the tie around your wrists. “you just needed to have your tight little pussy stretched by my thick fucking cock?”

“y-yes, fuck yes!” you whined, “i need to be filled, j-jonathan please—”

“i know,” he cooed with faux sympathy, “you’re such a needy little bunny. you get a cock in your tight fucking cunt and suddenly you’re not so tough anymore, are you?”

his words went straight to your core, rather than your head, soaking you even further and making his cock slip in and out of you with pure ease. he was slamming himself into your dripping cunt, fucking you raw as you took him so deep that you were full on screaming his name over and over again.

“j-jonathan, fuuuck!” you wailed, letting him ruin you entirely.

this wasn’t exactly how you planned the night to go, but it was better than you’d imagined. better than you’d hoped. you couldn’t dwell on the thought for very long though, because suddenly he was pulling out of you right before you were about to come, much to your displeasure.

you whined, causing him to scoff a laugh. he flipped you over to that you were looking at him now, in missionary, before he sunk back into you. you let out a bratty whine along with a pout. your hands were still tied so you couldn’t touch him — and you were getting desperate.

“please!” you exasperated as he fucked you stupid, “let me t-touch you, oh my god—”

jonathan watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and finally, he decided you’d been good enough for a reward. he reached behind your back, still balls deep inside of your warm, wet hole, and quickly undid the knot around your wrists.

and as soon as your wrists were free — you were clawing at his back.

“fuck,” jonathan groaned, feeling your hands pawing at him.

his hand suddenly reached down, playing with your clit as you mewled out incoherent babbles and pleas. he continued to press his fingers against your bundle of nerves, bringing you closer and closer to the edge once more as he plowed you.

your cunt was dripping with your arousal, you’d never been so wet in your life. you felt the knot in your stomach tighten as you were close to coming, and jonathan moaned as he felt your cunt flutter around his thick cock. “close?” he asked breathlessly, and you just nodded — unable to speak as your orgasm washed over you in a blur.

“thaaaat’s it,” he growled, “pretty baby.”

you whined, looking to the side as you came down from your high, but he continued to ram himself deeper and deeper into your cunt. you reached for his biceps, clinging onto them for dear life as his cock stretched your walls right open.

“i’m about to come, fuck!” he groaned. “should i come inside? i think i will — you like the thrill, right bunny?”

before you could protest, he was spilling his warm, thick cum into your abused little cunt. you were on birth control but you hadn’t taken your pills in days — so you were going to have to figure this out later, after the reality of what could happen would set in. he was right though; you did love a good thrill. something to get your adrenaline pumping and your blood rushing.

you were a fear addict, and he was the supplier of fear — you were freakishly perfect for each other in all the worst ways.

after both his and your endorphin levels gradually calmed down, he pulled out and watched the mixture of his sticky, white cum and your arousal drip out of you.

“you know, i could use someone like you to help me distribute my toxin — i'd pay you more than whatever you're making now.” he said after a minute, and your head shot up.

of course — his version of pillowtalk was bringing up business. he seemed to read your thoughts unnervingly well though, because before you could say anything, he was talking once more.

“we’d make a good team, don’t you think? since you’re my girl now and all.” he teased.

“am i?” you teased back, placing a kiss on his plush lips. “hm, i don’t see the harm — i'm game if you are.”

“that’s my girl.” he said softly, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “i’m curious though, out of all the people in gotham — what made you want to steal from me?”

“what can i say?” you whispered, “somethin’ bout you makes me wanna do things that i shouldn’t.”

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura

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jungwondazed · 3 months ago

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a kingdom by the forest

themes: historical forbidden love, royals and nobles, angst, sworn enemies, and slow burn.

warnings: NSFW WARNING for future parts, SFW for this chapter. not 100% historically accurate.

heeseung x reader; word count: 7.8k

PART ONE.

he had never captured her attention, not within the years of knowing each other through family rivalries, let alone in the middle of this village where he so happened to bump into her without notice.

she scoffed, head still turned around towards him as he walked away never looking back, disappearing into the large crowd of civilians.

the noble families throughout the land were fiercely competitive with one another. with hardly any room for friendly connections or conversation, the king’s opinion and words were the only ones that were valued. the royal family ruled the nations with an authoritative form of government, causing tensions to rise throughout the centuries.

once a year, the king hosted a grand summer celebration in his palace to celebrate the death of his queen. families from all different ranks and nations gathered together in respect to the royal family. the queen’s last wish was to bring back the once-chivalrous nature of this civilization.

nobles showed up with smiles and polite greetings but the glances and gazes around the room revealed everyone’s true jealous nature. the idea of unity between the aristocratic families in this lifetime was impossible, as parents taught their children to stay far away from those with a certain surname and if any of that is disobeyed the price to pay was never worth it.

heeseung was seen across the room, standing behind his mother and father, and side by side with his younger siblings. as the eldest son, he was held to an impossible standard that seeing how stoic and emotionless he was, came to no surprise. his family was highly respected and had a kind of wealth that wouldn’t run out for generations. working closely with the king during the war all those years ago earned them great status and appreciation from the everyday citizens.

he found a celebration like this superficial, scowling at how anyone’s death would warrant hundreds of people gathering together for drinks and dancing. if he was ever found dead and his loved ones threw a party for every passing year, he’d haunt them in their sleep. as his gaze scanned the room, he paused at the sight of her. heeseung mildly recalled bumping into her a few days ago and the obnoxious reaction that came out of it. the amusing part was he didn’t even notice her furrowed brows and disgusted gaze from the corner of his eye until he heard that dramatic scoff. that was the most attention she had ever given him, and it was strange that her presence at this celebration brought him to think of that moment. because it didn’t matter what her reaction was, none of it mattered at all as he was raised to keep his distance at best and think horribly of her at worst. heeseung’s face remained still when her gaze met his, and she quickly looked away with annoyance.

she was bored of these parties from the king, if it wasn’t a celebration for one thing it was for another. there was a grand gathering every few weeks and it did nothing to change the relations between the noble families. after complaining to her mother about yet another celebration of the queen’s death, one that she had been going to since childhood, her mother simply pulled at her hair a bit tighter than necessary to secure her up-do, before hissing in her ear that this was an honor.

sneaking off into the queen’s garden, she sat alongside the pond where she gazed at her reflection in the water. being the youngest daughter was miserable and boring. some would title it “the invisible child,” with all her older brothers being the center of attention at all times. due to their high status of being aristocrats, school was in her room at her desk with a hired private tutor. friends were not an option and the most conversation she got out of anyone by her age was telling a kid it was okay when they ran into her. loneliness was agonizing and she had fallen victim to it.

the fake laughter and string music coming from inside the palace was muffled, with the air’s gentle breeze being the only thing louder than the party. as she got lost in thought, a branch snapped to her left and her head immediately turned to the foreign sound. with her hyper awareness tuning into what that noise could have came from, only a cricket from a distance.

heeseung’s silohette comes from under the blossom tree and he holds back a laugh from the look on her face. the terror she displayed was amusing but giving her the reaction of anything near positive wasn’t something he would be able to do.

her shoulder’s drop, realizing that it wasn’t a secret asssassin that her brothers have scared her into believing her entire life and she immediately stands up to defend her spot being there first.

“you’re not supposed to be here,”

she wasn’t supposed to be speaking to him at all he says inside his head before he rolling his eyes and swatting his hand, ushering her to stop talking as he took a seat on a bench near the pond.

heeseung seemed unbothered by the encounter, getting lost in thought as he already had his pile of problems. the daughter of his family’s enemies were the least of his concerns, and if he had a bit more energy in him he would’ve just walked away and found his other usual spot. but with being around his family where looks and status mattered the most, things that meant absolutely nothing to him, the life was drained from his face and his eyes were as somber as ever. he rarely left his parent’s side at occasions like these and to spot him all alone, away from the crowd was a sight to see.

with no verbal response from heeseung, staring at him for a few minutes still in that same spot she grounded her feet in, she shakes her head before quietly leaving.

as the months passed and more gatherings were hosted by the king, heeseung and her formed a mutual respect where both would leave each other alone in the queen’s garden. there was perhaps a silent bond between the two where an escape from family matters meant a moment of tranquility. to her knowledge, none of this was against the rules as there was no form of contact. she tossed and turned and lost more sleep than usual as she meddled with this inner conflict. even though there was no acknowledgment let alone talking going on, the mere respect of one another’s space was still uncomfortable.

on a cold december the week before the winter ceremony, she set off into the village to gather gifts to bring for the king’s staff. giving back her thanks and appreciation to those who worked below the royals and nobles was something her parents wanted no involvement in as charity was highly frowned upon in such a high-class family. the constant clashing with her and her family’s beliefs forced her to sneak behind their back for lots of reasons, and buying gifts from the townspeople was certainly one of them.

with the lower half of her face covered with a small scarf, she purchases small items and fruit as gifts. bracelets that brought good luck and promised safety for the new year was one of her favorites to purchase, as she believed everyone deserved a bit of good fortune, rich or poor. as she made her way to the next stall of goods, smiling behind the thin cloth, she hears a roar of screams at a distance behind her. dropping the bracelet that was in her head like a knee jerk reaction, her eyes squint at a distance to make out where such screams could be coming from. there was never any trouble in the village this way, and it could have possibly been neighborhood kids fooling around on this busy day. but the blood rushing to her ears and the hair standing on her arms told the true horror of those screams, as they were far from screams of amusement.

bodies upon bodies come running in her direction, with civilians collapsing on one another, mothers grabbing their children and tripping, and elderly getting pushed and trampled on, all trying to make their way from the gathering of black horses ridden by men covered in masks with swords the length of their statures.

her breath hitches as she finally catches sight of the slaughter, feet barely picking up to run backward before her arm is grabbed and pulled away from the direction everyone was trying to get to.

the burning in her lungs feels like a blade to the chest, cold icy wind smacking her and she’s almost choking on the fabric that was meant to hide her appearance. they had been running for a few minutes and her adrenaline was wearing off, causing her to abruptly stop at one of the trees.

“w-what are you doing and where are we going we have to go back to help them-” she pants and heeseung comes to a halt, letting out a grunt of frustration as he catches his own breath and scans their surroundings. the forest was eerily quiet apart from the terror that was becoming distant from fleeing.

he towers over her, only a drip of sweat is spotted on his forehead as the winter air blows against them both. beginning to open his mouth before closing it again, he shakes his head and pulls her to run further along.

the terrain is rough beneath her feet and she thinks she might fall face flat if not for him dragging her up every time she almost slightly trips. there was a ringing she could hear that she couldn’t quite comprehend. whether it was the gushes of wind slicing past her ear or the thought processes firing from the sheer amount of horror she witnessed back there, her legs ripped from the constant spriting and she thought she could give it all up right there and then.

within another half mile, the two made it to the edge of the forest where she could slightly make out the massive palace they were both all too used to. what intrigues her is how he managed to navigate his way to the palace, as there was never a path on government-made maps that took you directly to the king’s square from that village. what troubled her more was why anyone would go through the forest for any form of shortcut, as her parents always warned her to stay on the carved-out paths.

at the gates, she has a widespread view of government officials and kingdom servants chaotically running around. shouting between one another when the king’s square was renowned for its charm and grandiosity, signaled that the recent mass killing in the village has caused disaster in the land.

heeseung pulls her along to sneak inside the palace, making their way into hallways located in a wing that she had never even heard of. ducking behind corners and statue monuments, he dragged her into a room at the end of the hall once the coast was clear. with the shutting of the door, the room turned almost black with just a bit of light left from the setting sun in the dark of winter, glimpsing through the one small window.

he finally catches his breath as his back presses against the wall and it is the only thing you can hear.

you stood there in silence, near impatience as your mind was trying to catch you up on what had just happened in the last hour. his firm grip on your wrist left a mark and you were sure that if you weren’t to rest soon your legs would give out.

tears threatened to prick your eyes as you recall the sounds and sight of men slashing bodies in two. in all your years of living here, there was never any violence or disruption. the land lived in peace since you were born and your entire life was at worst, glares from the other families. to see innocent civilians being murdered by masked men made your vision blurry and black, worrying for your own loved ones and at a complete lost as to where they are now.

you glanced over at heeseung and saw that he was troubled himself. his gaze was to the floor and he held in his terror well because if you hadn’t known what had happened you would’ve assumed he was just having his typical somber thoughts in the queen’s garden.

clearing your throat, you spoke up to finally break the silence.

“b-back there, what happened in the village, w-what happened back there and what was that? and why did you bring me here- and wh- what happens-“ you stopped when his eyes met yours and threw his head back against the wall, closing his eyes to take a deep inhale before opening them again.

“i don’t know.” he simply says, and it was the first time he’s ever spoken to you, you realize. and your face heats up in realization as you turn away to feign innocence from the bizarreness of it all. from the months of sharing spaces in the garden you never held a conversation let alone exchange any words with him.

you turn back to look at him and stop yourself from questioning anymore, as it seemed like the entire kingdom didn’t know either. you needed answers he probably didn’t have right now, like where your family was and where those men on horses came from. the land was surrounded by ocean and horses were only imported for the wealthy, having a horse for transportation was such a rarity that a storm of them coming into the middle of a village made no sense.

after a few quiet minutes and suddenly noticing the tapping of his foot on the floor, you realized how being alone in a room with one of your supposed sworn enemies was not a good look, and if anyone were to walk in and report to your family a massive shouting from your father was bound to happen. then again, was a scandal such as this any news as to what was going on out there? from the uproar in the front of the palace, there were surely no guards around checking in on rooms to hopefully catch someone who wasn’t supposed to be together. your face reddens at the idea of being caught and you almost wanna hide under the pillow as the scandalous nature of it all hits you. you had never been alone with a boy, let alone a boy from a family you were condemned to speak to. heeseung notices your fluster and shifts his gait to his other feet, clearing his throat to speak.

“i brought you here because if the men came from the southern part of town, it was dangerous to go back to our homes. the kingdom here is the most northern part and the only sanctuary we can stay in without endangering others. your head on a stick probably costs a thousand family’s lifetime savings and mine, even more. this is where we will stay for now-“

“but what about my family?” you let out, standing up in disbelief at the sudden hint of the southern part of the city being invaded. what could’ve possibly happened to mother, father, all your older siblings? you had no way of reaching out to them and this horrifies you into trying to leave the room before heeseung pulls back that same wrist he dragged you across the forest in. his grip is harsh around the tender joint’s and you pry his hands off with your other.

“you are not leaving. there is nothing you can do for yourself or for your family but wait. don’t jeopardize something when the best thing right now is to wait for the king’s orders.” he speaks harshly.

you ignore his comment and go for the door again which he shuts close. he was irritating in every way, how he handled you like you were someone he was close to, dragging you across the forest and forcing you to be here without a good enough explanation. giving you advice and suggestions as if either of you had the slightest clue what was going on. but despite his obnoxiousness he made a fair point, and storming out of the room would leave you standing outside the palace not knowing where to go next.

“trust me on this. and be thankful that i’m putting my differences aside to save your damn life right now-“

“i never asked for saving.” you interrupted him and stormed back into the bed, ending anymore kind of speaking between you two.

as morning peaks through the window you sit awake in the clothes from the previous day, hair still pulled up together with the pin in your hair. the tension at your scalp makes your head feel inflamed and you long for a hot bath in the coziness of your home bathroom. picking out the pin, your hair falls to your shoulders, and heeseung walks in the room with his clothes slightly undone, to which you assume he fell asleep on that small seating area across the bed.

once realizing you were well awake he strides to the end of your bed, giving you a scroll that he kept in his pocket.

“messages from the king that i collected from some of the officials this morning. everything out there is like hell.”

you blink at his words and note the frustration in his face, and the dark circles under his eyes. he let’s out a tired breath and runs his hand along his hair.

“the war from all those years ago when we were just children, the beginning of the war is rising again.” all of the blood that filled the veins in your face drained into a cold paleness. an unprecedented attack was surely not enough to dictate the beginning of war was it? were you too naive to see the struggles of the real world? was staying cooped in your family’s palace for years to shield you from the reality of all the nations?

“the kingdom is at risk of falling, and all the noble families are panicking. the king demands for all of them to gather here indefinitely.”

you read the words over and over on the scroll, in disbelief at how drastically everything changed in just a day. how people who hate each other can stand being in the same place all at once. would the darkness of war pressure these nobilities to hold each other’s hands and collaborate? will forceful teamwork end up breaking us apart even further?

“our families are here, and i’m sure they are expecting to see you soon. i would wash up and be on the way to them before another chaos uproars.”

to that, you nod and he makes his way out again, most likely going to his own family and you’re sure this is the last you guys will speak ever again. the first and last conversation with heeseung, was only for survival means. you can’t help but wonder where you would be right now if he wasn’t in the village at the same time as you. you can’t help but ponder if you would even be here at all. the thought of ever being in debt to someone you should have no ties with haunts you for the rest of the day, and you don’t notice the darkness of the night until you up in the middle of it.

the days ahead drag on as you are left in the dark while your family is in meetings from morning till sunrise, only making small talk with you and reminding you of your meals. the guest rooms assigned to each family are the size of a closet at everyone’s place back at their own home.

the loneliness you felt all your life creeps up again as you are isolated from the true horror outside these palace walls. for a few days, you were distracted by worry and what the plans are ahead, but with your family keeping you away from all these political endeavors you are left with the haunting feeling of isolation that you can’t even process it all in your own home. privacy was no longer a thing as you shared a room with your parents and siblings.

what terrifies you is how even in panic and confusion those few days ago, it felt better knowing anything, horrifying as it was, than nothing at all.

your hopes of this ending anytime soon are low, as the history you have been taught made you understand just how long the build-up of war is. being lectured on it was never enough to put the fear right in your body. seeing it for what it was in the flesh made you understand.

you spend the following weeks sneaking off into the room where you were first brought to, as you come to understand that no one stayed there and you wonder why. your mind started to question how he even knew of this place. for you to have absolutely no idea this wing even existed was telling, but for him to know of such a specific spot in this hidden area was another.

the idea of a promising noble son like him sneaking off into rooms that no others knew of made your face heat up and you cursed yourself at the thought of something like that. it wasn’t like you were being perverted, why else would anyone our age know about hidden rooms and corners? even though you weren’t supposed to, you read your fair share of entertainment from the restricted section of your family’s library. you were far from completely naive, and it was the only explanation that made sense. and that is exactly why and only why you would ever think of heeseung and private places in the same thought.

as the hours fly by, staring at the ceiling you don’t even notice the door open as heeseung storms inside, in pure anger from what it looks like, until he leans over the windowsill trying to catch his breath. his behavior takes you by surprise, having to hide your gasp behind your hand as he stands there fuming. the grip from his knuckles white and his chest rose up and down quickly. from all these months of noticing him, he has never worn an expression other than somber boredom, as if he was thinking about the answers to the universe’s questions all melancholicly. you couldn’t lie and wonder what he had to think about all the time, given that he had everything he could’ve ever asked for. the wealth, family, looks, pride, glory, whatever it is you could ever dream of he had. whatever hard time he was going through, you can’t imagine it being anything more complex than what kind of shoes he wants for the weekend.

as you sit there silently, your face reddens as you realize that you’ve been in the dark, the chances of you being there may have gone unnoticed by him. you clear your throat to which he softly startles and turns to your silhouette on that bed. he blinks rapidly, a feign glimpse of irritation fills his expression before he looks back at the window.

“what are you doing here?” he asks with an annoyed voice. you roll your eyes at his harshness and bite back an insult. teaching him a lesson about some manners would suit him right.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you bite back, hoping that would shut him up and leave you alone.

“i’m the one who showed you this room in the first place, and you’re asking me?”

your ears heat up and you quickly snap back at him.

“i found the garden first and yet i never gave you a hard time-“

he runs his hand through his hair and grunts in an irritating manner, before sitting down on the couch beside the window and getting lost in thought again.

his refusal to get into a superficial argument with you made you realize that perhaps you could’ve just answered him to his curiosity. your presence may have been unexpected as he did tell you about your family returning after all. maybe it was a bit rude of you to try bickering with him as he was evidently going through a rough time, god knows what it is, seeing as he’s always having a rough time. but perhaps this was a sign for you to step it back a bit and have some compassion, even if you weren’t supposed to like him, your heart wasn’t comfortable treating him as if he didn’t have feelings either.

even after you bumped heads with heeseung in the room, it didn’t stop you from coming, and it seems like it didn’t stop him either. it was like you both needed an escape. this was sort of like the queen’s garden, this is exactly what it was. you spent enough time there to know he treasured his dramatic thinking sessions just as much as you needed your alone time. but whatever his reasons were didn’t matter to you anyway, his business wasn’t yours and even keeping note of something like this made you shake your head and calm the heat from your face.

you couldn’t disregard how much you two have encountered one another these past few months, from the silent sitting in the garden together to this, and how you have grown to hate him less than you originally did. or maybe you still hate him and his existence was something you will have to tolerate if you wanted some peace for yourself. that peace being a room with four walls.

the painful realization of how much you were trying to rationalize being okay with his presence made you feel like you were reaching into danger territory, and that staying inside these walls for weeks was probably regressing your mental stability more than you thought. thinking about heeseung in any way was inappropriate, he was a stranger at best. he was a rival, an enemy, someone you aren’t supposed to speak to or have relations with. you didn’t speak to him much, so you were in a safe spot. you made note of this, you reassured yourself that whatever this was, was fine.

it makes you self-conscious, and over the next couple of days you’re hyper-aware of his presence in the room even if he is just simply sitting there sulking in his thoughts. your eyes sometimes glance over at him and you blame it on the boredom of this palace with absolutely nothing to do but ponder your relationships with your once sworn enemies.

you think he realizes the difference in behavior as he sometimes raises his brows when he makes eye contact with you in the room and your gaze quickly shifts somewhere else, pretending you weren’t looking in his direction at all.

you grow to spend your nights in that room too, sometimes falling asleep on the bed and waking up to see him still sleeping on that long couch. he was like a roommate almost, if this is even considered a decent living corridor. it had a full bathroom and a wardrobe. it was about the same size as your family’s current guest room. your excuse for staying here is that it’s a bigger space to stay, because what’s worse than having to share a room with your entire family? surely not heeseung? you ask yourself this question and get red when you realize your answer.

he sometimes brought you breakfast, almost every day now. you tell yourself that it had nothing to do with kindness and hospitality but something along the lines of duty, like not letting people starve. he only didn’t bring food when he had his eldest son duties and he didn’t show up at all that day. you started keeping track of when he showed up. wednesdays, fridays, saturdays, and sundays. and it was the end of thursday, and he was surely to show up tomorrow. of course the most you were looking forward to was the breakfast that would be laid out on the table, that was exactly why.

you made small talk, asking him for updates on what was going on and he insisted you shouldn’t know and to let everyone else handle it. maybe it was to keep yourself safe in this lonely room, away from the stress of the world. but you wanted to know more, and you insisted on it.

heeseung slowly told you bits and pieces here and there, but more surprisingly he grew to open up about his frustration, his stress. it first started with small complaints of “i just want this over with” to gradually telling you about his struggles with assisting the officials about the war. plans for civilian housing, emergency evacuation, things that you wouldn’t even want to dream about. he talks about how much he’s trying to hold it together, and how hard it’s weighing on him.

a small part of you can’t help but feel for him, in a way you have never before. that he’s just someone who’s your age with much higher stakes and responsibilities. and even if he was used to this his whole life, surely it breaks you at some point. you wonder why he was choosing to open up with you about it.

in return, you talk about how difficult it is to deal with such a strict family. and you two begin to bond over the shared struggle, finding out how much you relate to one another in that regard. ranting about your family values and beliefs was something you had never done before. arguing with them about it hardly counted as a conversation, so to be open about a topic like this was quite foreign. it’s a strange feeling to connect with someone you barely paid attention to your entire life, to realize how close in nature you are with heeseung. but it also made you wary of how much information was too much.

on a cold friday evening, in the middle of you and heeseung talking to each other across the room about the usual nobility rantings, you both hear footsteps coming towards the room. in all your weeks there, never had you heard anyone roam around these hallways as it was such a private part of the palace you were sure no one went here.

immediately you both run to hide inside the small bathroom, shutting the door close right when the room to the door opened. footsteps enter and you thank yourself for tidying the place and bed in the afternoon. nothing appeared on the table next to the couch where you were just sitting, and even if there was a few objects out of place it couldn’t have been enough for anyone to recognize how occupied the room had been.

you can’t make out exactly what they’re saying, faintly something along the lines of how this room isn’t made for family guest rooms and it once belonged to the queen’s closest guests, and entrance without invitation was forbidden. you wonder if heeseung was granted access to this room because of his family’s close ties with the king and queen, and you’re sure this was exactly why. in moments like these it hits you just how much the royals favored his family, which came as a surprise to you as your father had been fighting for a rank besides the king his entire life.

you become impatient with how long it takes for them to argue on the restrictiveness of the room, and you finally hear heeseung’s soft breathing right beside your ear. having focused on what was being said on the opposite side of the door, you didn’t realize how close he was. how his face was a few inches from yours, how you could feel his inhale and exhale.

with the flush in your face, you’re thankful the two of you are standing in pitch-black darkness, only light coming from under the small gap in the door. your face is almost touching his chest as he presses his hands against the door to keep it shut, trapping you in between. trying to to force your head back away from him, you gently meet the door and cringe at the small sound it may have made.

with how quickly you two rushed to the bathroom you don’t think the idea of how close you two were together caught up with either of you until the minutes became too long. and now that you realize the proximity you almost don’t know what to do with yourself. you’re sure he doesn’t realize it either, given how he remains there, still focused on trying to hear what was being said out there. whatever they were talking about left your mind the second you realized his presence. you count down the seconds to get out of here, embarrassed at how he could remain at such a distance, cursing yourself for not just standing at the other side of the bathroom.

once the room was finally quiet after the door on the outside opened and close, he finally backs up and opens the door, allowing you to process what had just happened. to process the feel of his breath faintly touching the tip of your ear.

heeseung doesn’t come for a few days, not the wednesday, friday or saturday. and it throws you off routine as those days were usually meant for long conversations with him, and breakfast of course.

you think back to the bathroom incident and question if that made him realize how dangerously close you two were getting. the close meaning of sharing small talk about noble families and simply residing in the same guest room together. it was hardly close, and he would be utterly dramatic for stopping all relations with you if this was the reason why for his strange disappearance. although, with what happened in the bathroom, you wonder if he pondered it over too. how he stood right there, not very far from you in the dark where no one else would’ve saw.

it was sunday evening and he came in through the door to which you were not expecting, sporting a black eye and what seemed like a small cut along his cheek. you gasped in horror and he shakes his head to get you to back off with any questions. since when was it appropriate for any child of a high-regarded nobleman to be seen walking around with cuts and bruises? does he have any idea what kind of reputation could form from looking like a street fighter?

you sit there fighting the urge not to do anything as none of this was your business. he may have taken up some fighting lessons on his own maybe and got hit by a forest tree. that made the most sense to you. because heeseung is not suposed to be fighting anyone. your teacher taught you the basics of wound cleaning and dressing, and you recall the kind of treatment needed for the skin on one’s face. he stands there at the windowsill like he always does, gazing out into the night sky as if it was any more interesting by the day.

you sit up and move close to him to see the damage and he doesn’t acknowledge your presence.

“what happened to your eye? and your cheek- it’s bleeding,” you ask gently as possible, a bit of your voice trembling.

he doesn’t answer and you walk into the bathroom to gather some supplies that were stored in one of the drawers. maybe he’ll see how you’re trying to help and take you seriously. enemies or not, being people under the same king meant you were to assist with anyone who was harmed.

he shakes his head again as you bring everything to the table and sit on the couch, waiting for a few minutes in hopes of him finally sitting down. a hundred questions race through your mind. who could do this to one of the most sought out sons within all these noble families? was it an outsider? was it his own? it was no wonder his absence this past week made you feel a bit anxious. there was something wrong.

you urge him to lay down, sitting up from the couch so he has room. he doesn’t move, still staring out there, grip as tight as ever.

you lay out a small bandage, a bowl with warm water, and a towel for him if he decides to use it. embarrassment floods your face at trying to initiate such a gesture, and you quickly put away the rest of the supplies. perhaps you had overstepped a boundary, and you were the last thing he needed to see.

by the time you hit the bed and try to sleep, he had still not moved an inch.

you wake up to an empty room, the supplies from last night still laid out on the table but there was also that tray of breakfast you had been missing all week. you hoped he was okay because seeing civilians hurt and bruised would never be something you could ever get used to. supposed enemy or not.

he doesn’t come for a couple of weeks, and you only see him in passing, him looking more worn down than ever. he never meets your gaze either, and you wonder if the connection you thought you two had was something you made up in your head. that in a world where you know nothing about friendship and relationships outside of your family, that what you two shared was nothing to be hopeful for.

you still sleep in that room every night, better than sharing it with your family who have only grown more agitated. being with them meant another headache and the quietness of this private room was your own personal safety net.

everything was going to be okay, there was always a solution to problems, any problem would be met with an answer, and that worrying did nothing. hoping and moping around did nothing. you counted the paint marks on the ceiling, and the walls, you tapped your finger to count the seconds, you did anything to keep yourself occupied.

your thoughts wondered to him, seeing the small wound that was now scabbed on his face. you were sure you could have healed it days ago if he had let you, but maybe it was better this way, not being acknowledged at all. he can care for his own self, you were nothing to him.

heeseung walks in that night with a cut lip and a bruised body, his clothes having slash marks with stains of dry blood and you’re horrified once again. to no surprise, he’s standing at the windowsill only this time his eyes were no longer to the window. his head hung forward, gaze steady on the floor. the tiredness seemed gruesome, the usual straight posture he had was not weak and wimp.

you analyzed all the wounds you could see at a distance from the bed. his face was worse than last time and whatever happened to his body made your fingers tremble. staying focused and alert was harder for you this time than last, given the severity of it. maybe he was training, this had to be it. but why would someone like him have to go through military training? none of it made any sense.

for a few minutes, you debate on whether you should try again. know your place, you must know your place. help him, he’s hurting. he doesn’t need your help. his wounds are bleeding.

he interrupts your thoughts by weakly limping to the couch, his hands reaching for the seat to steady himself down. there’s a grimace from him you hadn’t seen before. the blood seeping through the fabric looked old and dirty and you had to fight everything in you not to go up to him and insist once again. you pick at your fingers, anxious on what to do. who can rest when a panting hurting man is on the couch across from them.

“take your clothes off.” you tell him before you can stop yourself, and his eyes that were set on the floor looks up at you in a perplexed manner.

you redden at the double meaning of your words and shook your head in apology. turning your head into your shoulders slightly at how incredibly thoughtless saying that was.

“i’m sorry, i- i meant to take it off because the blood is dry and the wound is old, and keeping that fabric on it will increase the risk of infection. i encourage you to go to the bathroom and clean it up yourself.” you quickly let out all in one breath and he doesn’t move at all.

after an hour or so of you beating yourself up for that awful slip up and even speaking up at all, he walks weakly to the bathroom, spending a very long time in there to which you start to worry.

he appears from the bathroom right when you’re about to sit up and he makes his way back to the couch, his clothes unbuttoned and his cuts opened. you hiss at how it looks and scrunch your face imagining the pain. you try to ignore everything else that is exposed, only trying to look at the wounds.

heeseung decides to lay down this time, head resting on the hard couch pillow, finally laying flat on his back. he gently groans as the couch fabric hits his back and you almost can’t take it anymore. sleep shortly finds him and it is the first time you have seen him asleep before you.

his wounds look bad, really bad. and if you don’t do something you may regret it. there was no way he’d accept your help now, after not speaking for weeks. why did he even come here at all then if he knew you would be here? maybe he was trying to get you to leave this room by keeping it completely abandoned and only coming back after he waited it out. you finally accept that if he wasn’t going to be okay with your help you would do him a slight favor anyway and hope you never have to speak to him again. like a silent healer who snuck into infirmaries for the sick.

you rush to the bathroom, pulling the supplies you once did and move slowly back to the table. your movements are soft, trying not to make a sound as you lay out the cloth pieces and herbs. one herb for each wound, and one piece of fabric as well. you count the pieces to assure everything was correct, and then wet the small towel inside the bowl.

when you turn to him to clean his wounds, you gasp as his eyes are slightly open, fluttering open and shut.

“you- you’re awake? i’m sorry i was just trying to-“ you start trying to explain but his eyes are closed once again.

he didn’t seem to stop you when he saw what you were doing, for who knows how long. silence didn’t mean yes, but you can’t take no for an answer right now anyway, and you gently tend to the wounds on his upper body and arms. it takes a long time, about an hour almost. being as detail-oriented as you were, everything had to be done with precision. not being able to reach his back, you lay out the extra supplies for him if he chooses to use them.

helping him was strange, in the sense that you never really had to help anyone this way at all. being taught the basics of wound care dind’t mean you ever got to apply it. this was all academics, bragging rights, and merit. stuff your teacher taught you as a life skill. to be useful in this way was unfamiliar, but a sense of duty fulfills you. perhaps you did have a purpose in this war, a purpose if at all. you could be a daughter locked away for your parents to control, or you could be a valuable asset to a terrible time where lives are lost and injured left and right. you cared for his wounds because this is something you are innately born to do, to help and assist the sick and the ill. this was the explanation you chose for yourself while working on heeseung, this was what you were to believe.

as you check through every bandage one last time, his eyes open slowly again, blinking open a few times.

you still yourself, your right hand still touching the bandage near his chest. it felt childish to act like you were caught doing something like your mom seeing you sneaking in a sweet to your room. you freeze anyway, hoping he would fall asleep again. please just fall asleep again, rest yourself heeseung.

he doesn’t close his eyes for what felt like minutes when it was really only 10 seconds. he lets out a soft breath, closing his eyes as if he were squirming, opening them again. you look down at his chest and stomach area and see the medicine seeping through the bandages, most likely hitting his flesh now. his gaze is still on you, and his hands are about to reach up to his chest where your hands are, to which you assumed he was trying to slap your fingers away.

before he can make it to your hand, his wrist collapses weakly at his side, fingers twitching from the pain of the cut down his sleeve and your first instinct is to reach out to make sure he was okay, to reach for his hand and assess it in your own.

maybe it was the caring nature in you that goes out of your way to help any creature in pain but a small part of you brushed away the idea that perhaps there was the beginning of a subconscious care you had for him.

whatever it was, there was no time to dissect complex feelings when it seemed like everyone around you was reaching a breaking point, mentally or physically. and with the rate of which everyone was going down one by one, the question of whether this war will end soon or has just begun haunts you.

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