#WITH ADDED VIOLENCE AGAINST ASSHOLES

[arcanemadman]

A fanfic I made for the DMC book club secret santa for @katisblob. A character of study of Trish post DMC1 and her relationship with humanity as a whole.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 3

AO3 link. <-former chapter - next chapter-> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc:7k

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: hi sinners <33 this chapter was a fight bc i was unsure of what way to go with certain things and bc of so much going on in my real life. you know the deal w reader by now, otherwse go read part 1 or 2. This chapter was supposed to be longer but I decided to cut it, since it was already at 7k words. while i do have a humiliation kink, being mean to me, and saying i need to hurry up won't make me hurry up btw.<33 at least pay me. also i have a ko-fi now, wink wink.<33

Also according to Google translate: “ona delayet eto kazhdoye utro?”=“does she do this every morning?

The familiar scent of home sept into your nostrils as your face was pressed against the couch, the faint scent of the cigar smoke and of Nikolai added to the mixture. He had done nothing but push your skirt up, just like John had done earlier today, then pulled your panties down - contrary to John’s touch earlier, Nikolai’s hands were gentle, rough palms running over the skin of your ass, almost tenderly pushing your tail out of the way.

“Such a beautiful ass,” Nikolai all but purred, John chuckling from his chair, while you tried bending your back a little more, to show off your pussy as well, your tail touching your back a little, “so desperate, Lapochka”

“She is like that all the time,” John just casually commented, almost sounding proud and you hid your face a little more in the couch as Nikolai grabbed the fat of your ass and spread your cheeks, exposing your holes.

“Cute cunt,” Nikolai commented, almost if you were a piece of art that he was methodically going through, one of his hands moving to swipe a finger over said cunt, just along your lips, making your entire body shiver - until his finger continued up to your asshole, playing along the rim for a moment, “cute asshole too. You play with that?”

“Not often tha' she lets me,” John casually explained while you whimpered at the feeling; you weren’t really the biggest fan of anal sex, though you didn’t mind it. You would just rather have your pussy fucked, rather than your ass.

“Fuck me, pleasee,” You whined, hoping to distract him and Nikolai just laughed, fingers going down to run along your pussy again.

Maybe, if he was this easy to convince to fuck you, he wouldn’t be too bad to have around. As long as he didn’t try to ‘train��� you or anything like that.

Your mind turned off when he finally pushed two fingers into your cunt. The sudden intrusion burned for a moment, but it was essentially nothing and forgotten just a moment later. His fingers were thick, only slightly thicker than John’s, but the man hadn’t taken off the rings on said fingers. The metal was cold against your inside, not that you really minded.

Another finger was added and you felt your tail wag a little again — the stretch was nice, the fingers and the cold metal felt so perfect, especially as Nikolai curled them a little.

The delighted bark that left you from his touch was unexpected for the both of you, but Nikolai seemed to like it, given his repeated attack at just that spot. It made sounds leave you without your consent, your tail wag a little harder, the men laughed; honestly you didn’t give a fuck, too busy chasing your own pleasure.

When Nikolai pulled his fingers out, you didn’t even attempt to hold back your displeased sound - though it was quickly replaced by an impatient yap, as you heard him zip down his pants.

It had been a while since anyone but John had fucked you. You had grown accustomed to the feel of him inside you, on your tongue, in your hands. The weight, the shape, the length. The way his pubic hair that was nicely kept but still there, would tickle your own - the way his hairy chest and stomach would press against your back.

So when the head of Nikolai’s cock nudged its way into your cunt, your toes curled in excitement. He was a little thicker than Price, but nothing you couldn’t take, the Russian man behind you groaning out some words you couldn’t understand. 

He wasn’t as long as your owner but it felt like his cock curled upwards a little, making a shiver go up your spine, a small mewl leaving you.

While John would have taken his time, making sure you were fully stretched and feeling good, doing just as he knew you liked, Nikolai once again was an opposite to him. As soon as he was fully inside you, curls tickling your cunt, he held onto you - then pulled back and thrusted hard into you, giving you no option to get used to his cock or to get ready.

Taking you, opposite to John’s familiar loving you. It wasn’t that John was never rough, he was, but without your deeper connection to Nikolai it felt dirtier. But John was right there, watching you. 

Watching how his crush was fucking you hard. You were the center of attention, just like you deserved.

Nikolai’s hips and stomach hit your soft ass in a harsh rhythm, his fingers gripping onto what John lovingly called your ‘love handles’, using them to pull you back on his cock. Your mouth was open as you panted in between your loud moans, your sounds accompanied by Nikolai’s deep grunts, the slapping sounds of your bodies colliding -  as well as the wet sound of his cock thrusting into your dripping pussy. You were pretty sure you could hear John jerk off as well.

Your fingers desperately tried to grip onto the fabric of the couch, but you were pushed further and further up, ending up pressing your hands against the armrest, so as to not slam into it.

Closer and closer to the edge, Nikolai’s cock hitting that sweet spot inside you, making your toes curl as the man moaned out words you didn’t understand. You mewled out words yourself, mind lost in the pleasure - until it was ripped from you.

An almost furious wail left you as your orgasm was so rudely ripped from you, Nikolai’s cock pulled out, you turned your head as you whined; watching him aggressively strip his cock, dark eyes on you, an almost manic grin on his face.

That asshole knew he had just stopped you from coming.

He slapped one of your asscheeks hard, making you wail again - then he came on your ass, moaning as he got it on your skirt and panties too.

“Nggh,” Your mouth wasn’t cooperating with your mind right now, even as you watched Nikolai wink at you, before he tapped his dick on your asscheek a last time - and then dared to fucking pull up his boxers. Your eyes flickered over to look at John, who had just come as well. That well-known, blissed out smile on his face from when he had a really good orgasm.

“Noo,” you whined, managing to push yourself up on your elbows, body tingling as you looked back at Nikolai, “please - touch me, lemme com’, please plea–”

“Net, Lapochka,” the man all but crooned down at you, even daring to pull up your panties, dragging the fabric through the mess of cum he had just created, “You misbehave earlier.”

“I didn’t, no no,” you sat up even more, your body feeling it was on fire from the missing euphoria, “I didn’t, I was good.”

“Was not.” Nikolai raised an eyebrow as he argued back at you, tipping his head to the side, clearly not looking like he was going to budge. 

So you looked over at who you knew you could always trust.

Except Price had closed up his pants as well, taking another drag of the cigar, before he shook his head.

“You weren’t exactly nice,” he pointed out, voice calm from the orgasm like that traitor he was, “threw a tantrum when you got into the house as well.”

“You can’t do this,” you whined, pressing your thighs together, before sitting up, on your knees “I wanna come, master!” Using your best cards, knowing John got weak when you called him that. And you saw it, you saw the way his fingers tightened around the cigar. But he still shook his head.

“Nikolai said no. I said no. Accept it.” He said it so casually, like it was something you were supposed to be used to. A growl left you at his words, Nikolai giving your collar a little tug. 

“Don’t be like that, puppy,” he mused, sounding delighted with the entire situation, “You will survive.”

How dared they? Leaving you like this? You deserved much better!

You growled at Nikolai who just let out a pleased hum at it, giving one of your ears a little tug.

“You’re being mean - John,” you escaped the couch and Nikolai, instead going to your master, getting on your knees and crawling in between his spread legs, watching him with pleading eyes, “I’ll be good, I just need to come, then I’ll be good, I swear.”

His lips pursed for a moment, eyebrows dropping a little. He was considering it and you nuzzled against his pant leg, fluttering your eyelashes at him, hoping Nikolai hadn’t already poisoned his mind too much.

“Pleaseeee,” you begged in soft whine, “I’ll be good.”

“Net,” Nikolai rudely interrupted and you almost felt proud of the fact that you didn’t shoot him a mean look, instead keeping your gaze at John.

“Nik,” John started and you recognised the tone of his voice, the one he always had when giving into you; the one you knew to chase, to catch onto and clamp down onto. So you blinked innocently up at him again, letting out a pathetic little whimper, pursing your lips. Ready to cry, if that was what he needed to see. Your pussy was almost in pain with need and it wasn’t the same with your own hand.

“No,” Nikolai repeated, a little harder this time, “she is too spoiled. You said that yourself, my friend.”

The signs of when he would usually gave in disappeared and holy fuck, you wanted to gnaw off Nikolai’s dick that exact moment.

“But—“ you didn’t get any further before John just shook his head, once again turning you down.

“Nope. Nik is right. You heard him.”

“So you hate me now,” you whimpered out, perhaps a tad dramatically, but god you were so turned on it hurt.

“Please, puppy,” Nikolai answered before grabbing you by the collar and pulling you backwards, away from your owner, “you are not getting to come. It is punishment for not behaving.”

You cried, cried actual tears but it didn’t help. In fact, it somehow made it worse, which it usually didn’t. You couldn’t help the sad howling sound as you were left, no, abandoned, by the men, the fingerprint lock making escaping the dog crate close to impossible. Touching yourself then felt pointless.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They entered your house, your home, your territory. Sure you wanted to leave this farm any moment, willing to grab onto any chance to get John to move back to the city - but still. Three big, dirty and stinking hounds shouldn’t be allowed inside this farmhouse. 

You had finally been let out of the crate after a little over an hour and now, barely two hours later, another punishment was forced upon you. You just stared at the three hybrids with an angry look as they passed you, where you sat in the living room in one of your many fluffy dog beds. Making no movement to greet them or offer help with anything.

The Scot’s tail wagged at the sight of you, grinning at you and yeah, you knew you were hot - but that dog needed to mind his own business. You just huffed at him and looked away. Laswell was helping in the kitchen, while Nik and Price helped show the pack where the different shower supplies were, as well as where they could find clean clothes.

“You have to get used to them, you know,” Laswell said, looking down at her phone, standing in the doorway, “do you know where the paprika is?”

“No I won’t,” you answered stubbornly, “and it’s in the kitchen cabinet next to the fridge.” 

Laswell disappeared again.

“They’re probably going to use your brushes on their tails, you know,” she added from the kitchen, the words making you whine out loud and almost gag.

Disgusting. You didn’t like the idea of other hybrids using your brushes. You would have to ask John for some new ones, that shouldn’t be too hard… and maybe do it when Nikolai wasn’t listening. That man seemed to bring problems.

Even though John and Nikolai found your anger amusing as they returned, you still followed them into the kitchen. They were definitely torturing you.

“You could just sell them again,” you muttered, watching John take over from Laswell with the potatoes that were being roasted.

“You do not give up, no?” Nikolai teased, giving you a couple of pats on the head.

“No - and are we feeding a bloody army?” Yes, you were upset about several things and now the amount of dishes they were making was added to the list. They should be making those only for you, not from the men who were probably using your nice, expensive soaps and brushes. 

“We’re three more than usual,” John pointed out, fishing out a piece of potato, taking a bite of it with a hum - before throwing the piece at you. You caught it with your mouth, easily, Nikolai making a small cheering sound that made your tail wag.

“File said food aggression,” Nikolai added as he put down some dishes on the table, “we need enough.”

“Besides, don’t you remember the food at the auction house?” John asked, eyes still on the pan.

You let out a small huff. You did. It hadn’t been anything to write home about and being reminded almost made you feel bad for them… almost. At least you were still the one living inside. So… technically John loved you the most. Right. Even if you wanted a tiny house now as well. 

“You’re up to no good,” Laswell commented as she passed you with some vegetables, that made your tail wag from the mere smell, “go sit down and attempt to behave.

“I always behave,” you answered, barely looking at her, knowing she was just rolling her eyes - ignoring her “sure.” as well.

They did indeed have nice and brushed through tails when they appeared not too long after. They looked much cleaner, their new clothes helping them as well. They didn’t stink of sweat and auction anymore, which was a good thing you supposed.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dinner was tense. You sat at the opposite end, quite purposefully, while John and Nikolai tried to keep the men from fighting everyone over the food. Laswell was watching over the entire thing like a hawk and if you had to growl back at one of them, just because you wanted more sauce, you were going to throw a tantrum. Perhaps this would be another sign for Price to ship them back. Nikolai on the other end, was harder to ship back to the auction. 

He in fact seemed to press his way in everywhere.

Despite having an endless amount of beds and nice places to sleep, you plopped down on John’s bed, on the right side. Your side.

Usually you would cuddle up next to him once he decided to go to bed after getting all the animals inside. It took a little longer tonight since he had three new hybrids following together with Nikolai, so you were asleep once John returned.

A displeased grumble left you as a hand patted your ass a couple of times before giving you a push. 

“Move, sweetheart.” You grunted, knowing he could fit with the space left - so you made no move to make more space.

“I cannot sleep on top of you,” you opened your eyes at the voice, before slowly looking over your shoulder, squinting angrily at the owner of it. Nikolai was wearing nothing but boxers and a white undershirt, gold chain still on, like a walking stereotype.

You were not giving up your space in John’s bed. It might as well be yours and John's bed. 

“Go sleep in the guest room,” you answered grumpily, not moving an inch as Nikolai laughed.

“Princess,” John sounded slightly tired, “be nice.”

“It’s two doors down,” you still looked at Nikolai, not even attempting to sound any nicer, “I’m sure you can find it.” 

Bloody asshole laughed again. So, they were smooching. Fucking wonderful. Great. Just what you needed. Another man to annoy you.

Before you could do anything, a familiar hand took a hold of your ankle and pulled you down the bed, making you yelp.

“Sleep in the foot end or go to your room,” John demanded before getting into his own usual spot - that fucking traitor. While Nikolai moved to lay down in your spot.

“Meanie,” you grumbled, but still settled at the foot end, growling lightly as you stole one of the blankets hanging over the bed frame at the end. You weren’t going to sleep alone - you needed the sound of John’s snoring.

“It’s a sin to sleep together when not married,” you argued instead, pulling the blanket over you, turning your back to the men who just chuckled.

Nikolai gave you a little push with his foot in retaliation.

“As if you care about Christianity, slut,” he mused, making you grumble again. But you didn’t answer because you truly didn’t give a shit about it.

You definitely weren’t jealous at the sound of them kissing each other. Your traitorous tail definitely didn’t wag a little.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When you woke up, you were curled in between their legs, body hair ticking your chin. You yawned softly, stretching your legs a little before wetting your lips. Both men were snoring. John’s leg was in between yours, his shin close to your crotch. You looked over at the clock.

5:43 AM. They wouldn’t have to get up before 6 AM; which meant you had time for fun. You tail was wagging, thumping a little against Nikolai’s leg, who grunted, giving it a seat - which you ignored, getting up on your hands and knees before crawling beneath John’s blanket.

You took in the scent of his musk, rubbing your face a little against his morning wood, your mouth already salivating like a good dog.

Because you were a good dog. The best. It just seemed like your owner had forgotten, so you needed to remind him. You could do that.

You pulled his boxers down slightly, only to free his cock. Licking his balls a little, taking in the taste of sweat and musk, his familiar pubic hair greeting you, before you licked a stripe up his length. John was stirring and Nikolai had stopped snoring. Your focus was on your owner for now however - Nikolai could get himself off, he had taken your sleeping spot after all.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth; it was hot beneath the covers but you didn’t mind, letting his cock slide further into your mouth, using one hand to pull back his foreskin. A groan left your owner and as you let the familiar weight of his cock, further down your throat. You felt him stir - then a hand slid beneath the cover, to rest on your head, nuzzling your ears a little.

“Well, good m’rning to you, princess,” his voice was rough, a little dry sounding and it went straight to your pussy, your tail trying to wag beneath the covers. Even from beneath the covers you could hear Nikolai’s muffled chuckle.

“Ona delayet eto kazhdoye utro?” You pretended the slightly muted words that you didn’t understand didn’t turn you on as well; Nikolai apparently had a wonderful morning voice as well.

A moan left Price as you slurped noisily around his cock, spit dripping down his balls as you sucked him a little deeper, moving your tongue. By now you could take his cock without problem most days.

“Not always - ah,” John managed to answer whatever Nikolai asked about, his hand moving to rest on the back of your head, holding your head down as he began thrusting into your mouth. A wet gurgle left you beneath the covers, air warm in your nostrils as he used you, cock forcing its way into your throat repeatedly. With darkness and the smell of John, his hand on your head, everything was normal for a moment. Just like you liked it.

The cover that hid you from the world was gently peeled away, exposing your face to the low light of the night lamp in the otherwise dark room. A tired looking John with heated cheeks and a slightly open mouth was watching you. His hair was a little messy and he needed a shave, but to you he was perfect.

He used you, fucking into your throat lazily, his moans so low they sounded like humming. His pleasure was above yours and for once you didn’t mind; you liked how he was the one who decided the pace, how much you were allowed to breathe. He could hold you down, face almost pressed into his lower stomach and there would be nothing you could do about it - there was nothing you wanted to do about it. Even though the idiot, Nikolai, was in the bed, it was a nice moment… Especially with how your owner looked as he tipped his head back a little, forcing his cock even deeper so hard that you almost gagged; his eyelashes kissing his red cheeks, breathing hard as he came into your throat, Nikolai whispering words you didn’t understand.

When you were finally allowed to pull off, you gasped for air, drool and spit dripping from your mouth - resting against John’s hairy thigh, as you caught your breath. Tail still wagging.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Apparently the dinner last night had been enough of an experience for John and Nikolai, that they had decided that letting the hybrids eat on their own at first was the easiest, so that they could be sent out again. 

The three brutes were once again let into your house - sure, it wasn’t your favorite place in the world, but the moment the three of them got inside, you suddenly loved it a bunch more - dragging along the scent of sweat and wet earth, all their eyes on you at first, then the food. Their body language was wary but not angry, their tails carefully wagging.

Freshly collected eggs, bacon, beans, whole grain bread, yogurt and fruits.  Had it been served on a fancy plate in a cafe in the city, you would have loved it. But as you watched them, you despised it.

They ate like, well… dogs. It was nasty to look at and the sight made your nose scrunch as you stood, halfway hidden behind John as he was making more fried for the rest of you.

Ghost, Gaz and Soap had gotten each their own plate this time and it seemed to help on some of the aggression as well - you had listened to Nikolai and John discuss what to give them and how much and how to keep them from trying to take the whole dish, before the hybrid men came inside. 

Their tails were wagging and there were pleased sounds coming from them that bordered on improper. Everything you had been taught was bad manners through years of training? They were doing that, seemingly not caring about any kind of etiquette. Much to your annoyance however, John didn’t seem to be bothered and Nikolai seemed more interested in making food for the rest of you. 

Were you the only one who could see and hear how they chewed with their mouths open, ate too quickly and all messily, talking with food in their mouths? 

You were far from a small person, but as John pushed you aside and exposed the rest of you, so that he could grab something and you felt the three hybrids’ gazes on you, you suddenly felt small.

Ghost was drinking water and though he wasn’t looking away from you, he mostly seemed annoyed with your presence - while Soap was chewing on a piece of bacon rather lazily, a little spit dripping from his lip, more focused on you than the food. As if it was you he wanted to eat. Whether it was in a threatening manner or an attempt at a sexual one, you didn’t know - no matter what, you didn’t like either option. 

Gaz though, was looking at you through his lashes, licking the last of his little bowl with yogurt clean, with loud, slurp-like sounds; his red tongue caught the last of the white substance on the edge of the bowl. Giving it a couple more slow licks while keeping eye contact with you, a pleased rumble leaving him. Improper and loud, not even attempting to hide the sexual undertones. 

They all looked at you, as if you were their dessert; hadn’t it been for you keeping the two men in between, they would probably have tried to eat you by now.

Brutes. Couple of knotted idiots. Horny bastards. Should be sent back to the military, sooner rather than later.

“Gon’ join us outside, lass?” Soap asked with a smirk on his stupid face, not even trying to be discrete in any way, the sound of several tails hitting chair legs not going unnoticed by you, even if you did your best to ignore it.

You growled at him, really all of them, before almost spitting out a “no”, nuzzling closer to John once more, pretending your tail wasn’t in between your legs. Your soft silk bathrobe at least hid some of your body.

“Don’t be snide, dove,” Ghost crooned, much more darkly, the scars around his mouth not helping him look one bit kinder even as he smiled a little, his ears tipped towards you, “haven’t even introduced yourself to us. Impolite, innit?”

“Fuck off,” you snapped back, still using John as a shield, even as the man muttered a “behave,” next to you; Nikolai only laughing with delight, giving your head a pat as he passed you to collect more plates.

“You can all play later,” John said too casually for your liking and he even just ignored your growling, continuing, “Out with your lot now, go get changed or something - Nik and I will be out soon, Laswell will probably join us.”

You dared to cast a last glance at Gaz; the Belgian Malinois and German Shepherd mix hybrid looked right back at you as he slowly licked a stray drop of yogurt from beneath his bottom lip. Once again you were unsure whether the sight turned you on or frightened you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“No,” you crossed your arms, defiantly looking at John with crossed arms, “ I will not.”

“Princess,” he looked at you with an almost tired expression, “he didn’t bring his phone.”

“Too bad for him,” you answered, not making any movement to even get ready to go outside, “If I go outside I’ll die. If not from your stupid hounds, then the horses will trample me to death and the geese will eat me.”

Price snorted, but he didn’t give up - because 30 seconds later you were pushed out of the door with a yelp, barely managing to keep on your feet; then shoes and a jacket followed, tumbling around you as you looked at your owner who just gave a nod towards one of the fields. 

“Phone is in the pocket. They’re that way.” Then the door was slammed and as you heard the locks, you let out a little whimpery howl. A worker who passed near the barns laughed and you flipped them off, before putting on the shoes. It was a pair of John’s Wellington boots, which were too big on you - but you didn’t own any yourself, having straight up refused the idea of even going near tall, wet grass. At least he had given you one of his coats as well, which was warm. It couldn’t close because of your chest, but it was better than nothing.

The things you did for that man. You were better than this.

At least that was what you told yourself as you tramped across the gravel driveway, towards the direction John had shown.

While the boots were too big, they saved you from the dew of the grass that the sun hadn’t reached yet, even if they slowed you down.

The sun hadn’t quite gotten far up enough, so it was a little cold in your jeans and crop-top that John had dressed you in earlier. The top was white, with pink borders and said good girl across your chest, which he had caressed for a few moments and told you to live up too.

Easy for him to say.

“My my, what’cha doin’ out here, princess?” You didn’t like how you jumped at the voice and sudden appearance of the hybrid next to you, immediately growling at him. Gaz didn’t look one bit apologetic about it, his eyes almost shining with glee, tail wagging, grinning so widely that his fangs were exposed.

“Fuck off -” you snapped, stepping away from him before continuing to walk, “I’m looking for Nikolai.”

“Aaww, don’t be like that, puppy,” he continued, following you closely, even daring to get close to sniff at your neck! the nerve!

You growled and snapped at him, Gaz managing to pull his face back in time, but with a fucking laughter leaving him.

“Those teeth isn’t goin’ to hurt anyone, baby!” he pointed out smugly, following you as you walked again, increasing your pace, “You’re really just a little lapdog, huh? So weak.”

“I told you to fuck off.”

Gaz didn’t care, snickering and following along with you instead, like a hungry wolf, knowing the lamb would be vulnerable and tired soon; ready to sink its teeth into the lamb’s throat and rip it apart. You had no plans of letting any of the hounds get to you.

You snapped after him a couple of more times, hiding your excitement when you saw Nikolai, hoping that the man would get this mutt off your back.

“You could be nicer, you know,” Gaz cooed, hands in his pockets, walking backwards in front of you, his tall ears tipped towards you, tail wagging behind him, “just because you are a bitch, you don’t have to behave like one.” 

You were going to strangle this motherfucking piece of shit and it was like Gaz could see it on you - tail wagging even faster.

“Why don’t you go fuck one of your stupid friends?” You asked, trying to ignore him even as anger simmered in your veins, curling around the fear of the bigger man, “it’s only a matter of time before Price sends ya ‘ back anyways!”

“Oh we both know that’s not happening, sweetheart,” he answered, voice going a little darker, licking his lips slowly. “Our owner said it himself, didn’t he? Too much to handle for him. Maybe you just need a good knot, hm?”

“Let me know when you find one,” you snapped back, relieved that Nikolai was right there, watching over Soap herding some sheep, “because none of your sad mutt dicks are coming near me.”

“Puppy - What brings you outside? Too lonely?” You could have slapped Nikolai or maybe bitten him, as he asked the questions with amusement in his loud voice; both Ghost and Soap instantly gave all their attention to you, staring you down. Had the situation been different, you would have bathed in that attention. Yet you felt fear go through your body at this point, even as you tried to hide it.

“No,” you grumbled at Nikolai, as a sweaty looking, tail-wagging Soap stepped towards your sudden little group, “you forgot this.”

“Ah, Spasibo,” Nikolai took the phone with an almost sheepish look, “I always forget. John finished paperwork, da?”

“Hello, bonnie lass,” Soap whispered as he passed you, a tad too close for your liking, hand running along your lower back, making you growl low, before focusing back on Nikolai. He stank of sweat and sheep. His tail wagging, blue eyes watching you intently.

“He isn’t, he’s waiting for a phone call. Something about problems with the tractor’s mechanic.”

“I am better than mechanic,” Nikolai argued, furrowing his brow, as if you were saying the opposite and not just the messenger, “I’ll go back. You boys can hang around with her.”

“Nononono-“ you argued, instantly following Nikolai as he began walking, sending the hybrids a mean glance, over your shoulders as a warning, “I’m not hangin’ out with these hounds.”

“awww, dove, don’t say that,” Ghost crooned, the bigger breed appearing behind you, following you closely, his footsteps heavier than yours, “we have to get to know each other, baby.”

“No we don’t.”

“Did you not socialize in the city, pretty?” Gaz asked, following on your right side, Nikolai still in front of you, not joining the conversation but no doubt listening along, “or were you too busy sucking cock?”

You snarled aggressively at him, ignoring Nikolai’s chuckle in front of you. 

“Shut up,” you snarled at Gaz, who just winked back at you. They all wore outfits that seemed practical but comfortable, in stark contrast to your jeans and crop top, together with John’s jacket.

“Dinnae take it personal, cuilean,” Soap tried to weave his way in between you and Nikolai, but you merely stepped around him, giving him a shove with your shoulder - earning whistles from the other two. Ignoring the annoyed snarl from Soap.

Gaz’ hand slid out to hold onto your jacket, distracting you as he yanked you a little closer to him, “c’mon, we can show you a good time yeah? Don’t you wanna learn some new things?”

“Like what? Being mindless beasts? No thanks.”

You managed to yank it free, but the moment you did, Ghost took a hold of it from the back.

“We can be nice, you know.” He said, still a little playfulness in his voice, “when we want to.”

Once again you managed to yank the jacket free - only to almost stumble into Soap in front of you. The border collie hybrid was smirking and as you started walking to follow Nikolai, he started walking backwards, not taking his eyes off you.

“Ye’ve been angry every since we met, hen,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already turned each of them down so far, “we just wantae have fun - we’re not here to steal your master from you.”

“Your mere presence here proves that to be a lie,” you hissed back, stopping for a second, “I don’t want you here! I was perfectly happy in…”

It took you a second to realize but Nikolai was getting further away from you.

When you realized what was happening, it was too late; Soap had managed to create a space in between you and Nikolai, essentially herding you away from him. With Gaz on your right side and Ghost behind you, you had no other option than to bolt left, trying to catch up to Nikolai again or get into safety. Only, that was like throwing a bone to the wolves.

“c’mon bonnie,” Soap’s voice was louder, happier than before as he bolted after you. One glance at Nikolai proved to you that he wouldn’t be of any help. In fact, that fucking traitor just continued walking towards the house.

You weren’t supposed to be the prey here, you were supposed to be safe at the farm! All this bloody hell was because of this stupid farm!

Everything would be good if Price had just listened to you!!

The others were much faster, wearing proper working shoes instead of the ones you wore, that were too big, making it even harder to run. You weren’t really a runner anyways. Nor a fighter, but in the big city, it hadn’t been necessary. There, in the streets of London, you and John could wander without worry, the sounds of the city like an neverending soundtrack. There  you could follow your owner in a nice tempo, without fearing being ripped apart by mutts like these, Soap snapping at you each time he got close. Purposefully guiding you once again, without you realizing before it was too late. It wasn’t until you spotted the shed, or rather the little house, that Price had given them - and not you, which was bordering on abuse, wasn’t it? - that you knew you were in trouble.

But despite your screaming, one boot falling off in the fighting and your desperate attempt to get away, it didn’t matter; strong arms got a hold of you, snapping teeth and fingers on your tail and nape. Soon you were on the ground, even for just a moment and it was three against one; you were doomed to lose.

The screams echoed throughout the fields, in between the wheat and the fruit trees, but the world didn’t stop spinning. In fact, it carried on, just like before. There was grass and dirt on your clothes, some of the dew wetting your exposed white shirt.

Nikolai out of sight, but you doubted the man would have helped you anyways. You couldn’t even hear his steps in the gravel as he walked to the front door of the farm house, closing it after himself; dooming you to your fate.

Ghost had hoisted you over the shoulder, letting out a grunt as you almost instantly began hitting his back, managing to tug at his tail a couple of times. Despite hanging with your head upside down, Soap and Gaz’s hands were still on you, tugging everywhere they could touch - until Ghost gave a sharp bark, from deep in his chest, that made you flinch.

It was almost like a wordless commando that the men instantly understood, dashing in front of Ghost to the shed, getting the door open while you tried twisting, almost hitting the doorframe, since it was barely big enough for the two of you, when you were on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost didn’t do anything but grunt and force you through even as you tried holding onto the frame, desperately screaming and howling. Wordless howls and the echoes of your owner’s name didn’t change anything as the shed swallowed up every sound, the door closing behind you.

“Stop throwin’ a fit,” Simon grumbled before unceremoniously - and heartlessly, you might add - dumping you into their nest of mattresses, pillows and blankets. They hadn’t even been here for long, yet it already stank of them.

You weren’t even given a second to catch your breath before Gaz was pulling off John’s shoes from your feet, then his jacket, muttering about you getting their bed wet and dirty, like a naughty pup. He managed to avoid your bites, snapping at your fingers with his own teeth whenever you managed to get a hold of his ears - then Soap was upon you, fully distracting you from Gaz.

“These tits,” the mutt declared happily, ignoring you as he pushed his face in between your breasts, pawing shamelessly at them, “pure perfection.”

“Let go of me,” you snapped, almost feeling horror go through your body as you pulled his head back by his mohawk; only for the man to moan like a whore. Your pants got pulled down to your knees by Gaz, a yelp leaving you, unsure of where to put your attention in order to escape.

Bloody bastards; strays, mutts, illegitimate—

Soap’s hand was big as he suddenly and easily grabbed your throat, a tight grip around your pretty collar. Pressing you down into the mattress, cutting off your air for a moment, stunning you - while your hands went to dig your nails into his forearm, his skin saved by his shirt, he forced himself in between your legs; strong hands grabbed your wrists and Gaz pulled your hands over your head, while Soap tugged on your jeans even more, your well kept tail stuck in the hole in the pants. 

You were crying and writhing, Gaz’s hands a little dry as they held onto your wrists, Soap freeing your bottom part. All while this was going on, Ghost just stared. Like an actual ghoul, standing a little from you, keeping an overview of the situation, leaving against the main door. Watched as the men began to humiliate you.

“Poor princess,” Gaz cooed, keeping your hand in tight grip, bending your fingers a little, trying to coax the claws out that wasn’t there anymore, “did Price declaw you?”

“Nooo,” you whined, attempting to tug your hand free as he unsheathed his own claws, letting them dig into your skin a little, as if to prove that he still had them. They were a little sharp, but not much; probably sanded down a little during their stay at the auction house.

“No? Nah you’re right, sweet sir wouldn’t do that to his favorite slutty princess, would he?”

Soap hummed, forcing his fingers into your mouth, running them along your filed down canines, “guessing he dinnae do this either, eh?”

You gurgled around his thick, dirty fingers, while tears began to swell in your eyes, from the embarrassment… not to mention anger, from the pure assumption that Price would do that to you? “Nah, ye are a pretty rescue, aren’t ye?”

You bit down around his fingers; the bastard laughed, but still winced a little as he pulled them out again with a “bad puppy.”

“Get on with it, Soap,” Gaz urged, his tail thumping against the mattress, sending you a wink as you stared up at him, growling.

“Look’at this kitty,” the way Soap spoke made you blink away a few tears in confusion, while you wondered what the fuck he was talking about; then, as Gaz laughed like a dirty dog above you, you realized Soap was calling your pussy a kitty.

You growled, trying to raise a leg to kick him away, but his hands were on your thighs, forcing them apart; he was stronger than yourself and you were one against three. It would most likely end badly for you and as he unceremoniously mouthed at your panties, a loud whine left you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growled, scraping his canines along the petty lace, “yer kitty smells divine.”

“Don’t call it that,” your voice was a little weak and it almost came out in a sniffle.

“Aww, dinnae worry, I’m gonna make it purr, yeah?”

“You’re so fucking nasty — shit!”

His tongue slid beneath the fabric, running along your pussy, making your brain shut down.

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x reader | 3.7k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, bickering, mentions of blood and injuries, survival instincts are non existent, hints at past violence/abuse, toji is an asshole but he's trying !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: ignore that i formatted this part all pretty while part 1 is just an ugly drabble. i just didn't expect to turn this into a series lmao. anyways please read part one before reading this so that it actually makes a lick of sense !! also i added people who asked for part two to the tag list so if you wanna be added/removed just lmk :3

you mutter a quiet curse as you step in a dirty puddle, eyes squinting through the torrents of rain pouring from the dark sky. it's bad enough you got out of work so late, but the heavy storm did nothing to make the journey home easier. you grip your umbrella tighter, even though your clothes have still been dampened by stray droplets, and speed up the pace.

it has not poured like this in your city for quite a few weeks now, and the change in weather would be pleasant if you weren't being hit by it full force—indoors, curled on your couch under a blanket, would be ideal. that's what you plan to do after you get inside, after a warm shower and dinner.

speaking of dinner, you're late for your routine meal drop off for your new hybrid acquaintance. though you're almost sure that toji won't be in his usual spot in the alleyway by your apartment in this weather, probably taking shelter where he normally does when the outside is too harsh. plus even if he decided to take his chances to come for food, he would've left as soon as he noticed his plate wasn't there.

you haphazardly push yourself through your front door, nearly tripping as you attempt to close the umbrella while simultaneously avoiding the rain. you inhale deeply once you're safe, leaning back against the door as you catch your breath. the rain sounds are muffled now that you are in your little cocoon of an apartment, and you immediately pull your wet shoes off with a grimace.

half an hour later you're stepping into the warmest, most comfortable pajamas you own, body now clean and thrumming with the freshness that only a good shower can provide. your stomach growls as you step into the kitchen, the rain still slapping against your window, and you immediately try to throw together whatever food you can find.

thanks to toji's daily rations, you have an assortment of meat in your fridge, but you settle for eating some rice and curry, choosing to leave meat for a day where the wolf is actually around.

you're halfway through your meal when you hear familiar sounds in your alleyway, and you can't help the way your jaw drops.

"oh my god there is no way," you mutter under your breath, hurrying over to your door and slipping on your shoes. grabbing your umbrella and snapping it open, you duck under it to avoid once again getting drenched by the downpour, the splashing sounds of your footsteps echoing through the alleyway.

even though he is soaked to the bone, toji looks unbothered, sitting against the wall lazily. his dark ears are laying low against his head, but they twitch to life at the sound of you approaching. you ignore the normal distance that is kept between the two of you, opting to stop right in front of him so you can hold the umbrella over his head. "what are you doing out in this rain?"

"you're late today." he ignores your question, green eyes sliding up your figure to meet your gaze. you shake your head in exasperation, staring down at him with a frown.

"yeah i got held up at work." you adjust the umbrella a little, and toji's eyes flick towards it, as though just realizing it's there. "i didn't think you'd be out here."

"came by earlier and saw your lights were off and you weren't home," he grunts, shaking his wet hair out of his. "just thought it was weird."

(he does not mention how long he sat and waited for you to get back, ears perking at every little noise that turned out to be nothing. he does not mention that after a while he got up to circle the area, eyes on high alert and a rising aggression in his demeanor, only to come back and find your lights on.)

"oh," you say lamely, blinking through mist. toji gets to his feet, and you reel at the way he towers over you. he shakes his head, the water from his ears and hair splashing haphazardly, before nodding once.

"well i'm leaving." he turns to walk away, and you blanch.

"to go where?" you can't help but pry, looking at his back searchingly. you see him shrug, hands in his pockets. his tail remains unmoving with the weight of water, clothing sticking against his damp skin.

"who knows?" he grunts. he nods his head at you gruffly. "get inside."

"but…" you grimace, glancing at the dark sky. "what if you get sick?"

toji's brow raises, and he throws you a sarcastic glance over his shoulder. "i'm not made of fluff, kid."

you can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his brashness. you don't know what you're doing, but the idea of him prowling out in the pouring rain makes your stomach churn.

"come inside."

toji's head whips so fast you think he might break his neck, jade eyes going wide. one ear perks at your statement, oddly endearing, and you would've chuckled if his expression wasn't so aghast.

"the fuck you say?"

you swallow, suddenly nervous. seriously what the hell are you doing? "come inside," you repeat, your grip tightening around the umbrella.

"are you fucking insane?" toji's voice is sharp and accusatory, like you've just said the most offensive thing known to man. "why would you even—?"

"it's pouring." you say it blandly. "and i wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing you were sitting out here like that."

"i'll live," he scoffs, and you bristle at the harshness of his tone. "i'm not a cushy little human."

"ha ha," you mock him sarcastically, voice cutting over the sounds of rain hitting your umbrella. "even animals get sick in the rain, don't they?"

he grumbles at that, eyes narrowed at your haughty smile, before he turns to face you completely. "why the hell do you care?"

"i—" you pause, not sure what to say. why do you care? "i just do."

toji rolls his eyes, shoulders raised high as he squints at you through the torrents of rain. a beat of silence passes as you stare back, unyielding, and he finally sighs heavily. "you have horrible survival instincts, you know that?"

you can't help but beam, laughing at his disgruntled expression as he falls into step with you and making sure you angle the umbrella to cover his head. "if you wanna leave later you're free to. just stay until the rain stops."

toji glances at you from the corner of his eye, contemplating. he wasn't joking—you really did have the worst judgement he's ever seen. he can't wrap his head around how you don't find it dangerous to invite a ragged animal into your home, especially one that can so easily tear your limbs off. instead, you have this dopey little smile on your face as you walk him into your space, closing the umbrella with a practiced snap and leading him inside.

well, toji isn't one to complain—he can't even remember the last time he's felt the warmth of the indoors, shielded against the bite of the outside world. and if he tries too hard to remember, he'll find that the last time did not have same sweetness that seems to be radiating off of your very person.

the inside of your apartment is small, but cozy. toji can't help but look around, noticing the details that have made this place your own. he inhales deeply, finding traces of the scent of food, of laundry detergent, of an unlit candle.

of you.

"uh…" your voice has gone slightly awkward, and toji's gaze falls on your sheepish expression. you look somewhat embarrassed, consciously looking around at the lived-in messiness of your space—not that toji really cares. "d-do you wanna wash up? i should have some extra clothes for you around here."

toji grimaces at the feeling of his ragged shirt clinging to his damp skin, but he tries not to make it too obvious how much he welcomes the idea. he can feel dirt and grime under his claws, and the thought of an actual bath makes his head spin with feral delight. "i guess so," he mutters, nonchalant. you seem to relax at his willingness, and you nod as you lead him to the bathroom. he shamelessly looks around, eyeing the pictures of you and other people in your life hanging from your walls. he can smell your half-eaten dinner, and his stomach rumbles.

you push open the bathroom door, and he briefly glimpses a pile of clothes on the ground, along with a few other things scattered here and there.

"fuck," you curse under your breath, heat crawling up your neck as you practically trip over yourself to get inside and tidy up. "j-just wait out here for a second please!"

toji snorts out a sardonic scoff of disbelief. if you really believed that he would care about something as trivial as a pile of laundry, you've got him completely wrong. but he guesses it is just slightly funny to see you so stressed over your dirty underwear because of him.

you rustle around inside and then emerge, breathlessly smiling as though nothing had occurred. toji watches you, expressionless, and you gesture to the bathroom. "okay now it should be all good. there's soap and stuff in there so use whatever you need. let me get you some clothes."

you immediately squeeze past him, trying to head for another room, and that's when toji fucks up. it's an accident, but he can't help his reaction. your elbow accidently nudges his abdomen, and he yelps with pain, the sound morphing into a guarded growl. you immediately recoil, eyes going wide in fear and concern—he internally curses.

"what?!" you gasp, gaze darting over his body. "what happened?"

he clicks his tongue. "nothing," he snarls, fist clenched around the fabric of his shirt. you eye him warily, and he can tell you don't believe him.

"what? are you hurt or something?"

"no!" he snaps back, teeth bared, and that's all the reaction you need before you're crossing your arms and glaring at him.

"listen, if you're hurt you need to get it cleaned and looked at." toji has half a mind to laugh in your face because you look so stupid trying to intimidate him when you're barely reaching his chin. he knows there is stock in what you say, but he is not doing this with you.

"like hell," he grunts, mirroring your posture and sneering down his nose. "i'll be fine."

"you squealed like a puppy when i barely touched you!"

he throws you an appalled scowl. "what the fuck did you call me?"

"i'm right and you know it!" you shoot back irritably. you seem to catch yourself, because you let out an exasperated sigh and your voice goes a little softer. "will you at least let me look at it?"

toji eyes you warily, feeling a strange mixture of trepidation and guilt. he knows he is right to be cautious, and he knows he should not be trusting you no matter how sweet you seem to act. but at the same time he hurts, and he does not want to go back outside even though he's used to it now—something about such free warmth is making the rational part of his brain fall apart.

he sighs heavily, grumbling under his breath and shooting you a withering glare, before he carefully tugs his shirt off. he can feel the wet fabric clinging to his opened skin, and he bites back a hiss of pain as he rips it away. when he's got it off, he just looks at you, accusatory—but you aren't looking at him.

instead you have a distinct look of abject horror on your face as your eyes roam over his body. though he is extremely well-built and quite honestly, very attractive, his skin is marred with scars. old and fresh, they litter his body like a barely thought out map, and you seem to experience a minor heart attack. your eyes zero in on the wounds that are causing him the most pain—a shallow gash cutting just over his stomach and what looks like a deep bloodied bite in his forearm.

"how?" your voice is shaky, and you finally meet his eyes again. "what happened to you?"

"don't worry about it," he mumbles, his voice a little less gruff as he studiously avoids looking at you. "i told you it's not that bad. it looks worse than it is."

you conveniently ignore him, taking a step closer to study his body. frustratingly enough he feels heat crawl up his neck because you're looking at him so intently, teeth digging into your bottom lip and chewing with nervous bites. finally, you tear your gaze away from his torso to look at his shirt, a deep frown creasing your features as you notice the contrasting darkness in certain areas of the fabric—bloodstains. "well you can't leave them open like this."

toji rolls his eyes harshly. "i've lived through worse."

you glare at him once more, and he finds that the expression looks quite good on you. "you need to clean them up, toji."

his name slides off your tongue like butter, and he can feel his canines scrape against his lips. a flicker of something akin to embarrassment trickles over his body, and he frowns distastefully. "no."

you click your tongue, exasperation rolling off of you in waves. "are you stupid? they'll get worse. i mean they're probably already infected and—"

"i don't know how to alright?!" he hisses, baring his teeth at you angrily. your expression turns bewildered, eyes darting between his quickly, before it melts into something frustratingly sympathetic.

"that's it?" your voice is like honey, and he can't decide whether it irritates him or not. "i can help you."

help. toji doesn't believe humans are capable of helping—only harming. but you're looking up at him so imploringly, eyes focused and heavy with the foolish need to bring him comfort. why, he does not understand. but he has never been able to understand why humans act the way they do.

he pins you with a wordless stare, and he knows you've realized he's relenting, because your lips quirk upward slightly. with a nod of your head, you motion him to follow you into the bathroom and take a seat on the edge of the tub. he watches you rummage through the cabinets, pulling out what looks like gauze, disinfectant, a small towel, and a sizeable mug, which you fill up with warm water. he's about to stand up to make space, but you kneel at his feet instead, setting everything at your side and pushing your hair away from your face.

it baffles him, how quick you are to yield to a species that is so obviously beneath you.

but you don't seem to be thinking any of that, gaze darting over his body as you try to figure out how to approach this. "i'll try and clean up all the blood first and then disinfect, okay?" your voice is barely a murmur, but his pointed ears catch the words all the same.

"you're the expert," he grunts, nonchalant. "do what you need to."

you smile wryly, dipping the towel into the water. "you said it, not me."

he snorts out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle, but you don't comment on it. instead, you are focused on his body. you see numerous scars and welts, some fresh and some so old, and you are surprised at how sad they make you. it seems like the feeling is evident on your face, because toji watches your features with an unfamiliar intensity. you can't help but prod. "how'd you get these?"

your voice is gentle, as though you're scared a lack of fragility will shatter him. but toji has dealt with far worse than whatever sweetness you seem hell bent on showing him.

"betting on animal fights is a lot of fun for rich assholes." he doesn't look at you, but his lip curls with a deep rooted distaste—you think you feel it too.

so that's where toji comes from. the underground hybrid arenas that you've seen on the news many times before. a common place for predators who were normally so unwelcome in society to be put to good use. a controversial topic, because despite its popularity amongst the rich, everyone knew the conditions were not the greatest.

but you never thought they'd be this bad—how naive.

"i'm so sorry," you mumble forlornly, gently tracing the towel over the wounds. toji grunts noncommittally, but doesn't say much else. you're fine with that, and you clean him up with a tenderness that makes his stomach churn.

all he can focus on his how small your fingers looked wrapped around his claws, and he think you might be a lot braver than he is.

after you're done with your handiwork, you leave him to wash up in peace, and toji silently stares at your tiled wall as the hot water pours over his back. he does not know what he's doing, and what he's trying to get from this. sure, being fed everyday was a welcome addition, but he never planned on stepping this close to you—the thought makes him queasy. he does not enjoy the idea of being indebted to a human, because all they do is take and take and take some more.

and yet he finds himself slipping into the clothes you've given him, and when he looks in the mirror he's surprised at how much a simple bath could change him. toji wearily runs his tongue over his teeth, before it traces over the scar on his lips. a wave of disgust washes over him—he pushes it aside.

when he find you again, you're in what he assumes is a spare bedroom, tucking a fresh set of sheets into the corners of the mattress. he drops his old clothes in the corner, and then clears his throat to announce his presence. you turn to look over your shoulder and smile at his cleaner appearance. "you're done?"

he nods gruffly, watching as you stand up straight and take a few steps closer. "did the shower help?" you pin him with a curious stare, and he sighs resentfully.

"yeah," he grumbles, and he can feel your smug little smile saying nothing but i told you so. he has the strongest urge to flick your forehead.

"oh, i can take care of these."

he can't bite back his snarl when you pick up his clothes, and you freeze at the unusually territorial look on his face. he seems to pick up on the little fright he gave you, and his ears lose a bit of their tension as he sighs gruffly. "just…don't get rid of them."

you pause, glancing down at the rags in your hands. you stop to think that maybe these clothes are the one thing that toji has had since the start—important in a way that you won't understand. so you just nod with a reassuring smile. "i won't. i'll just wash them for you."

toji's shoulders relax, and his expression shifts, green eyes looking anywhere but your face. he nods once but doesn't say anything else, and you take it as your sign to continue.

"you can sleep here. i changed the sheets and put some pillows down too." you nod at the bed, pristine and untouched, and toji's bones suddenly ache with fatigue. how long has it been since he's seen a real bed?

he wonders what exactly your angle is. what do you get from helping someone like him? what sick urge do you satisfy by extending pity to a ragged animal? what do you achieve by passing on glittering smiles like they aren't priceless?

and what do you do to make yourself look so innocent through it all?

you're still blabbering about the bed. as much as he tries, toji cannot smell any malice on you—just pure disgustingly sweet kindness.

"how d'you know i'm not a serial killer or something?" he peers down at you with an arched brow, gaze sharp. "i could just eat you in your sleep."

you blink, before smiling sheepishly. "…do you plan to?"

there's a pause, and then for the first time, you see his scarred lips tug up to one side—a half-smile. a quiet chuckle bubbles forth and he crosses his arms. "nah, you're a little too sweet for my tastes."

you frown at him, watching as he dramatically wiggles his clawed fingers and flashes you his teeth, before rolling your eyes. "how flattering."

he snorts out another laugh, and you take the time to put the extra blankets on the old bed. "i've got more blankets in the closet if you need them, so help yourself." you busy your hands with propping the pillows against the headboard, and you see toji nod from your peripheral.

"i'll uh, be outta your hair soon," he mutters, suddenly feeling out of place.

"relax," you answer, grinning with a shake of your head. "i'm the one who asked you to stay so we could get your wounds all better. you're not giving me any trouble."

"right," he murmurs. there's an uncharacteristic gentleness in his tone, awkward and tense, but you recognize it to be a semi form of gratitude. toji glances at your easy going grin, and his skin prickles uncomfortably—he's not sure how to react to such blatant warmth.

"i'm in the next room over so if you need anything, just knock. i'm a pretty light sleeper." you flash him a thumbs up and turn on your heel, heading to your own room. toji waits until he hears the click of your door before taking a cautious step forward. the clothes you've given him are somewhat tight on his figure, and they faintly smell of some other man, which makes his nose wrinkle with distaste.

though he guesses he should try to bite his tongue and be a little grateful—they're much more comfortable than the rags he'd been in for all those months. toji clambers into the bed, claws digging into the unfamilar softness of sheets, and a heavy wave of fatigue washes over him.

he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, your stupidly sweet smile burning behind his eyelids.

taglist: @h4wkz @babyblue0t7 @en-happiness @ourfinalisation @lymsfm @jazzy00001 @mahoubitch @deedeeznoots @ghost-buddies @teddybeartoji @onimira @polarbvnny @starmapz @thikcems @nonamebbsblog @echodead @pennameyoruichiii @venussdovess @emi311 @meow-satoru

lmk if you would like to be added/removed <33

[vezpr]

corporal: ch 1 - punishment

SUKUNAxF!READER ☽☾ HEIAN ERA AU ☽☾ ONGOING SERIES ☽☾ AO3

☽☾𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:CH1: PUNISHMENT ▪︎ CH2: EXPECTATIONS ▪︎ CH3: DENIAL

☽☾ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You are such a menace that your father decides to offer your eternal servitude as a gift to the King of Curses.

Sukuna has not accepted such a tribute in years, more often opting to eat the young girls rather than put them to work, which is perfectly acceptable as far as your asshole dad is concerned.

Will the demon make an exception for you?

☽☾ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+MINORS DNI, blood and gore, violence, abuse, true form sukuna, eventual smut (not yet),I suck at tags

☽☾ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: CH: 4.2k TOTAL: 7.7k

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment something to that effect. But please put an age in your bio so i don't have to block you. Thanks for reading. 🖤

As a little girl, you were inseperable from your sister, Emika. You spent countless afternoons giggling and dashing between the trees in the wood surrounding your home. The same wood you are now running through as your life depends on it.

Even as stitches crawl, burning, into your ribs, you picture Emika's smiling face in the dappled sunlight. When you trip over a root and catch the stony soil with your knees and palms, your mind conjures a memory of practicing katas and swordplay with her in secret, of the many times she put you in the dirt, herself, grinning as she tapped her bamboo sword lightly against your throat. "Dead," she'd giggle. She was so strong.

You bound to your feet and run despite your burning lungs and aching legs. As your pursuer knocks you to the ground, restraining you with a strong pair of arms, you recall the time you walked into your favorite clearing and found her kissing one of the servant girls. Later, she had shared her secret with you, only you. 

As the guards drag you kicking and screaming back to your family home you recall how vacant her eyes had become when the servant girl was sent away. The way her lips no longer smiled when she was given to a man twice her age, a cruel man who kept her pregnant and did not love her. You would die rather than accept such a fate for yourself. You would be the warrior Emika had dreamt of being. 

As calloused hands throw you into the closet used to confine you when you were had misbehaved especially severely, you pictured how Emika had looked at you on her wedding day, a tight smile under eyes shiny with unshed tears. As you scream through split, swollen lips and pound your fists bloody on the heavy wooden door, you pictured her nodding and mouthing a silent goodbye to you. 

When you finally slump against the door and succumb to a darkness so complete that closing your eyes makes no difference, you hiss her name into the silence. Damn her. Why didn't she fight it? All that strength, for what?

Twenty now, you are half a dozen years older than she was when she was married. You are known for your wild behavior which has discouraged many requests for your hand, despite your clan being rather powerful. Your life was not pleasant, as a result.

You had been flogged and thrown into the dark more times than you could count. Your mother does not even come to sit on the other side of the door and tearfully beg you to change your ways anymore. You are utterly alone, and you suffer. But at least you have a modicum of freedom. At least this suffering is your choice.

"So you're back, father," you spit, blinking at the light that filters around his still armored silhouette. Fresh from one battle, into another. You do not give him the satisfaction of crying out when he yanks you out of the closet by your filthy hair. After all the pain you have suffered at the hands of this man and his lackeys, you hardly feel it anyway. 

"Yes, daughter," he spits the word out like he can't stand the taste of it. "And I will finally be rid of you for good."

"Finally grown the balls to kill me?" You sneer as one of his underlings closes manacles around your wrists. You lean away as the back of his hand flies toward your face, angering him further when his strike fails to land. He does not miss a second time. You grin at him with bloody teeth. 

"Worse," he answers. "You are to be given to the shrine." He smiles back at you when your grin falters, your heart skipping a beat. You know exactly what he means. You are to be offered to Ryoumen Sukuna, the king of curses. You have never seen him yourself, but his monstrous appearance and even more monstrous appetites are well known throughout the region. 

You can remember looking out of your window one night as a child, seeing the orange tinge to the horizon in the distance, the faint smell of smoke. "It's the King of Curses, raiding," Emika had explained, as she stroked your hair. Goosebumps raised on your skin as she described the four-armed cannibal warlord, a powerful weilder of cursed energy. The strongest force known to the country. "Don't worry, he won't come here," she had soothed. "Father has ways of keeping him placated."

Your dismay is only momentary, however, as you realize the irony of your father presenting you as a gift: dirty, broken and wild as a rabid dog. You laugh softly. "Perhaps he will kill you for your trouble," you sneer.

Your father looks you up and down before averting his eyes and scoffing in disgust. "Vile as you are, I'm sure you taste the same as any other girl, and that's the only use that savage has for such gifts," he responds. "Have her cleaned and dressed" he says over his shoulder, already marching away from you. 

It takes two men to hold you down while a servant girl is brought in to wash you. Her soft, dark eyes remind you of Emika. They are filled with fear when she looks at you. You do not give her any trouble, not even when she removes the muzzle from your face to clean it with a warm cloth. You slide your eyes to the gaurd whose fingers you had wounded before he was able to get the thing on your face, glaring at him threateningly.

The woman's hands are gentle, especially around your wounded lips, and the cleansing soothes your broken skin. "Thank you," you murmur to her as she pours warm water over your matted hair, combing it out as she washes it. She says nothing, but looks at you with pity, now. You had preferred the fear. 

On the journey to the shrine, you manage to ruin most of her work, throwing yourself repeatedly into the mud. At one point, you even manage to escape, despite being shackled, and forced the guards to chase you through the woods for over an hour. As a result, you are late to court, but your father drags you through the doors, anyway, dripping from an impromptu "bath" he had given you in the river. 

Standing on your tip-toes, you peer over the heads of the crowd. Your heart rate picks up a notch when you spot the monster lounging on a throne piled with skulls and bones at the head of the room. His enormous frame is draped over the chair, his cheek resting on his fist, as he looks down on one of his subjects. The squat old man is currently groveling next to a pool of blood at the foot of the steps that lead up to the throne. Presumably, his predecessor had not fared well.

Tattoos adorn the King's forehead and chin, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw, as well. A pair of piercing red eyes are set into each side of his face, although one set sit inside a rough-textured mask of some sort. The halo of soft, pink curls on top of his head looks strikingly out of place. His white kimono edged in dark blue hangs open over his chest, more black ribbons of tattoos frame his exposed pectorals. An additional pair of arms sit relaxed in his lap, the wrists of all four appendages are circled by more tattoos, like bracelets. 

Suddenly all four of his eyes snap up and he scans the crowd, until he sets his sights on you. You sink back onto your heels, heart in your throat, hoping, for once, that you have vanished into a sea of men. You are beginning to think that the eye-contact was just your imagination, when a booming voice calls out your father by name, asking him to approach. 

"Hold her," your father hisses at his guards, who are, in fact, already holding on tight to your manacled arms. You are grateful for the muzzle, for the first time, hiding your fear behind it. The old man that had been stuttering at the King's feet scurries back into the crowd as your father approaches. 

Sukuna glares down at him in silence for several very long and uncomfortable moments before he finally asks, "Brought your brat here, have you?" 

"I have, your-"

"Is it true," he cuts your father off, examining a long, black fingernail as he speaks, "that she disarmed one of your generals and managed to wound several men with his katana before she was stopped." 

"Regrettably-"

The monster cuts him off again with a low chuckle. "Bring her," he says.

Your legs feel like lead as the guards drag you foward, the crowd parting in front of you, many eyes casting curious looks in your direction. All four of Sukuna's eyes bore into you as you approach. You can't seem to tear your gaze away from his, though it is more out of paralyzing fear than defiance, for once. You wonder if he can sense it. Your fear. It has been a long time since you have been afraid like this, accustomed as you are to pain. The guards stop just a few strides behind your father. 

It feels as if all of the air is sucked out of the room as the two of you stare at each other, neither moving. The man seems awfully fond of uncomfortable silences, you think, as he stares at you with the same heavy-lidded, bored expression.

"What is that shit on her face?" He asks without moving a muscle. 

"Told you to take that off," your father hisses at the guards over his shoulder, even as one has already opened his mouth to answer Sukuna.

"A muzzle, Master Sukuna," the man on your left bows slightly, releasing your arm as he answers, "she bites."

Sudden inspiration strikes and you stomp hard on the toes of the man on your right, causing him to release your other arm and then you are running. You feel like you take only a half-dozen strides before a strong hand clamps down on your wrist. You spin, intending to smash your captor's nose in with your head, but you draw back when you are met with the muscled expanse of Sukuna's tattooed chest. "Leaving so soon?" He growls. He is enormous, you realize as you life your eyes to his, glittering garnets. He is smiling and you make a note of his long, sharp canines.

Frozen in place and unable to tear your eyes away from his, you don't even see the back of your father's hand flying towards your face. Your head reels back with the impact, a warm gush of blood colors one side of your vision red as his knuckles split the flesh under your eyebrow. 

Sukuna flicks his wrist almost imperceptibly and then your father is screaming. A fine spray of blood lands at your feet seconds before his severed hand rolls into your line of vision. Sukuna's eyes never leave yours. You don't move when he removes the muzzle and lets it fall to the ground where it lands just out of reach of the twitching fingers of the severed hand.

"Going to bite me?" He asks, his voice so low only you can hear, he leans in, eclipsing your vision, his breath warm against your ear.

You shake your head. You decided when this man removed your father's hand with a simple gesture that no amount of biting or running would prove effective against him. 

"Run if you want," he says, in the same low voice. "But you won't get far. Either they will get you," he says, nodding in your father's direction. "Or I will." He smiles, a cold display of sharp teeth, "and I like hunting."

He releases your wrist and turns to your father who is clutching his gushing arm. "You are aware that I appreciate useful offerings?" He asks.

"Yes, master Sukuna," your father bleats in a broken voice.

"What use do you think I would get out of her," he gestures at you, and you realize what a pathetic mess you must look, streaked with mud and blood and drenched in river water.

"I- well-" your father stammers, face gone pale from blood loss. "Your- your- appetites..."

He scoffs. "Execute your own children..." He says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Uraume!" He calls, addressing a white robed monk, who, you are peripherally aware, had been standing serenely beside the throne throughout the proceedings. "Put her up in the East wing," he commands. "You know the chambers I mean?"

"Yes, Master Sukuna," the monk nods, but you don't miss the arch of her eyebrows above her pale pink eyes. Despite their surprise, Uraume descends the steps and places a hand lightly on your shoulder. You shiver, their touch is intensely cold, but allow them to guide you towards the exit behind the throne.

Before you are out of sight, you turn to look once more at your father. "If you survive the blood loss, I hope you die of infection," you bellow at the top of your lungs. 

Sukuna throws his head back and laughs.

Uraume is silent as they guide you down empty corridors to the chambers specified for you. When they slide back the shoji door and you step in, you are surprised to find a sizeable suite with varnished floors, a large futon stacked with pillows, cushioned chairs and, what really draws your attention, a vanity littered with combs and perfumes.

"Who lives here?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at the feminine items.

"You, now," they answer.

"I mean before."

The monk hesitates, but finally answers with a shrug. "Master Sukuna's... concubines... but not for a long time now." 

"I will not be anyone's concubine!"

Uraume clicks her tongue. "Master Sukuna does what he likes," they shrug. "But, if it comforts you, he has not shown interest in replacing those he... rid himself of."

"What happened to them?"

"I will bring you a basin so that you can wash up. I'm sure you will find some clothes that will fit you in the wardrobe."

"But-" you begin, but they are gone in a white and pink blur of hair and robe.

All that first night you lie awake on the futon, staring at the shoji doors, half expecting the demon to burst through them and make his motivation for keeping you known. He never comes, although in the wee hours of the morning you hear soft thuds and low growling from the wall at your back. You wonder if the monster's chambers share a wall with yours, and shudder to think what he might be doing to make all that noise. 

After a few restless nights, you are eventually able to sleep. Although you are fairly certain that he is the source of the noises you are hearing at night, they almost comfort you at this point, as they mean that he is in his quarters, not thinking of bothering you.

Weeks go by and you barely see him, except in passing, and even then, he only addresses Uraume or other staff, never you, directly. It is as if you are invisible to him. Except for one instance in particular, you saw him entering through the West gate. Evidently, he was back from raiding and pillaging, as he was covered in blood and soot, wearing only a tattered hakama, hanging low on his hips. When he turned and saw you staring, he flashed a manic grin that had you spinning on your heel and hurrying in the opposite direction. You could hear him laughing behind you, and shuddered at the sound. 

Most days, Uraume would collect you in the morning and assign you some task or another. Cleaning and food prep, mostly. Apparently, Sukuna enjoyed eating large quantities of a variety of foods, not only human flesh. Thankfully, Uraume was the only one entrusted with preparing fare of that kind.  Other than that, you were free to explore the estate and no one seemed to bother you or ask what you were doing. 

You often ate in the kitchen with the other servants, and it was from one of these that you learned what happened to Sukuna's former harem. 

"Ate 'em, he did," Baba, croaked. She was a bent and wrinkled old woman who appeared to be at least a hundred and fifty years old. Her watery, cataracted eyes gleamed over her sunken cheeks as her toothless mouth sputtered out the story. "Got bored of fucking em, sure enough! Or fed up with them treatin' him too familiar, one! One tried running away but he caught her quick as anything and that's the truth! What a mess that was! Thought I'd never get up all that bl-"

"Baba!" Uraume scolded as they walked out of the back holding Sukana's tray. You tried not to look at the contents, or even think about them, as you poked at your salmon with your chopsticks.

"Well! It's the truth, it is!' The old woman screeches, spittle flying as she throws up her hands. "It is," she insists, leaning towards you and fixing her milky eyes on yours. 

Normally, you would smile at the old woman's theatrics, but you find yourself frowning at your food, instead. You recall that first day, how Sukuna had said that he likes useful things. How are you useful to him? You doubt he is even peripherally aware of what little work you do here, and, even if he was, anyone could do it. Why had he specifically put you in a room so close to his own, a lavish one at that, nicer than anything you had ever had at home?

You look up from your plate and down the table at the other servants. The few that are looking at you drop their eyes. Come to think of it, Baba and Uraume are the only ones who talk to you. Everyone else avoids you like the plague. Why is that?  You stand suddenly, knocking the table with your hips, causing dishes to clatter. Everyone is looking now. You hurry to clear your place and rush out into the bright daylight, no longer able to tolerate being confined indoors with your thoughts or with all those eyes on you. I have got too comfortable, you think to yourself.

Eventually, as you pace around the estate, you calm, although your eyes seek out the exit gates more than usual. The space is beautiful, with sprawling courtyards filled fruit trees, vegetable gardens, even a koi pond and a little stream that empties into a hot spring on the outskirts. Carrying your sandals, you walk along the edge of the whispering water. You smile to yourself as you watch the clear water rushing over the pebbled streambed.

Might as well enjoy all this while I can, you are thinking to yourself, when you hear movement ahead of you. Although you are somewhat concealed behind a stand of trees, you are only yards away from the hotspring. You hadn't realized that you had waljed so far. Sukuna stands at the edge of it, having just let his kimono slide off of his shoulders. Rooted to the spot, your eyes trace the lines of his tattoos, then the dips of his sculpted abdominals until they reach an odd line just below his navel. A scar, perhaps? You swallow thickly, finding your mouth suddenly dry. 

Your eyes are still focused on the odd slit on his belly- you could have sworn you saw it move- when his hands drop to loosen his hakama. As heat crawls unwanted into your cheeks and the tops of your ears, you avert your eyes and turn to go. Your heart was already threatening to hammer it's way out of your rib cage when he calls out, "Come here, girl." 

Could be talking to anyone, you reason as you will your limbs to obey you and continue your retreat.  A couple of splashes and then you hear him call out your name, louder than before. You are shocked that he even remembers it. Slowly, your movements dreamlike, you turn and make your way toward him. Holding your chin high and hoping you exude a confidence that you do not feel, you move to the edge of the hotspring opposite to where he is now half-submerged in the steaming water. "You called me?" You ask, bowing stiff and shallow.

"Closer," he nods, but doesn't otherwise bother to move. His upper arms are draped along the edge of the hotspring, his lower ones, concealed beneath the water.

Hesitantly, you move closer, but still  just out of reach of his splayed fingers. He looks, first, at your bare ankles, then, his spider-eyed gaze lingers along the length of your body until your eyes meet. The silence twists knots in your gut, and, although you do your best not to squirm, you feel as if every drop of blood in your body is rushing to your face. He is smirking. He is young, you realize, looking down at his unlined face. Striking, you are unable to stop yourself from thinking of his tattooed features, his extra eyes.

"Do you need something?" You ask, thinking better of the 'What do you want,' you typically have on queue for unloved authority figures. 

"Do you? Or are you content to spy on me from the shadows?" 

"I wasn't-" you begin, scowling. "Actually," you change direction, crossing your arms. "I do want something. I want to know why you keep me here... and why in that room?"

His smirk widens until it is almost a smile. A sinister expression, nonetheless.

"Do you want to go home?"

"I-" you sputter. No you don't want to go home, but you don't necessarily want to admit that, either. 

"I think what you mean to say is: thank you, Master Sukuna, hm?" He says as your mouth opens and closes like a fish. "Does that answer your question, or would you like me to think more about what to do with you?"

While you spoke he had inched closer to you and now you feel the warm slide of his fingers on the back of your calf. You look down at his extended arm, the tattooed wrist disappearing under the hem of your kimono, as you stomach does a series of somersaults.

When your legs finally decide to obey you you turn and speedwalk stiffly back towards the East wing of the shrine. You expect to be called back or struck down at any moment, but Sukuna only laughs at your retreat. 

Thst night, ypu decide you will leave. You manage to gather some food from the kitchen and other supplies without attracting attention. Now all there is to do is wait until you hear the demon thudding around and growling through the wall. Then, you will know that it's safe.  

What is he doing in there anyway, you think to yourself as you pace back and forth across the suite, stopping now and then to actually press your ear against the wall. Growling like that... the image of his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his hakama rises, unbidden, to your mind. You shake your head as if that will clear it. "Stop it," you hiss to yourself, absolutely hating the way your stomach twists and flutters at the thought. 

Hours pass. It is much later than it usually is when you hear him on the other side of the wall. You press your ear hard against the wall and strain to hear, but the only sound is the pumping of your own heart.

You sigh raggedly.

Maybe he's sleeping.

Maybe he's traveling, doing whatever monsters do. 

"Fuck it," you mutter, grabbing the bag full of supplies and slinging it over your shoulder. The shoji door is blessedly quiet as you slide it open. The hallway is dark, empty, silent. You breath a sigh of relief and close your eyes, centering yourself, gathering your courage. Maybe he won't even care that you're gone. Maybe he won't even notice. The thought comforts you and you draw on it for confidence as you take the first step out into the corridor. 

"Going somewhere?"

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. It is a miracle that you don't cry out. You turn slowly, as you would in a nightmare, to see him leaning against the wall bare inches away from your door. You are surprised you didn't hear him breathing, as close as he is.

"For a walk," you answer evenly. 

"With luggage?" He asks, nodding at the bag slung over your shoulder. His eyes and teeth glint in the dim light. He's smiling. This is entertaining for him, it seems.

He chuckles when you say nothing and steps toward you. "Go on, then," he says. "I'll give you a generous headstart... Although," he reaches out and plucks the heavy bag off of your shoulder as if it were nothing, "I suggest you travel light."

There is only one response to that.  

You run. 

[darlingshane]

Dumb & Poetic

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Michael and you cannot communicate anymore without screaming at each other, but you've managed to keep that out of the workplace. Except for today. Your argument reaches a boiling point, and you have a big blowout in the kitchen in front of everyone. You end up apologizing to each other at the end of the day in the only way you know how to.

CW: +18, explicit, heavy angst, complicated relationships in the workplace, smut, vaginal sex, hate sex, making out, misogynistic comments.

Word Count: 2,2k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist

The kitchen is on fire, and it's not because everyone is working their asses off. It's only because of the heated argument you're having with Michael.

If your hands weren’t busy with the sandwich you’re making, you would definitely close your fist and sock him in the face. You don’t condone violence, but right now, he's earning himself a good punch. Breaking his nose could be the only thing that would stop him from relentlessly nagging at you while you work. There's fire in your knuckles already, itching to hit something. Anger is really starting to fester in your stomach as he keeps yapping in your ear about nonsense. You give him one more minute before you either swing your fist or quit altogether. It'd be pretty funny to leave him in the lurch with the show full of people anxiously waiting for their food. You're understaffed, overworked, and lacking better management. He knows it, you know it, everyone and their mother in the neighborhood knows it. And yet, Michael refuses to listen to reason. The only thing he loves listening to is himself talking.

If you had other options, you’d certainly drop what you’re doing and walk right out the door. It'd take you to be as much of an asshole as he is to just leave him stranded today. Unfortunately, you can’t afford the luxury of quitting this job.

Turning heads on your way, you yell at each other, going back and forth between everyone working tiredly on the tight kitchen space. It's not unusual for you to fight, but today there's a time bomb ticking that holds something inside more complicated than any of you can understand.

You knew mixing business and pleasure was a mistake. Yet you jumped, eyes closed. It serves you right, you're hitting your head against the bottom of the pool for not following your gut. You knew Michael was trouble, also your boss, and that didn't stop you from getting into bed with him.

Now everything is a mess. You can't communicate without screaming at each other. All the back and forth between being together and apart has burned the last bridge between you and Michael, and there's nothing you can do to fix it when he's not willing to do his part in helping you.

“Orders are piling up. You either move out of the way, or join the party. So help me God, Michael.” You throw your knife with disdain into the sink before you do something you might regret.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you change the menu without telling me?”

“I tried! I called you ten times, and you never picked up. And I didn’t change the menu. I just added a special for the weekend to try it out. See, it’s working.” You use your hand to point at the kitchen window crowded by heads on the other side. “You said you were leaving for two days, and you were gone for over a week. You think that’s normal, to go on a bender and leave us to fend for ourselves? You got orders, bills, vendors to deal with… You're being fucking irresponsible. Has anyone told you that? ”

“Give me a damn break. You have no idea what I have to deal with. You've been working here two days and act like they own the place. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I've been here two years, Michael! Two fucking years carrying your sorry ass around. You’ll be lost without me, asshole!”

“I'd be lost without you? That's rich.” He scoffs loudly. “I taught you everything you know.”

Now it's your time to snort. “You showed me how to make your stupid sandwiches. It's not like you taught me how to cure cancer. You should be grateful I care enough to do something about it.”

“It wasn’t your place! You added chicken to my menu. Beef. We serve beef.” He points at the logo on the shirt he's wearing. “Can't you read, sweetheart? If we start serving chicken, people are gonna get confused.”

You roll your eyes intently.

“I told you, it's just for the weekend, Mr. Beef.” You have to hold yourself back from throwing the wrapped sandwich in your hands at him.

“Yo, cousin, since when we do chicken specials.” Richie walks in, protesting, from the front of the shop.

“Ask the smartass here. Thinks she knows better than all of us.”

“Well, I don't know about smart, but she certainly has a good ass.” Richie laughs.

“Oh, look at your other half agreeing with you. What a surprise! That's sexual harassment, by the way, Richard. And you're late, as usual.”

“Take it to the police, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're the one who's taking this place more seriously than both of them. Perhaps you shouldn't even try anymore. If Michael doesn't care enough to make this place better, why should you? You're sick of busting your ass for nothing. You should just take a step back and let him drive this hole further into the ground.

Done with arguing with someone who doesn't even listen, you turn around and go start on the next order.

“Hey, I'm not done talking to you.” He, of course, follows behind you.

“Well, I am. Stop wasting my fucking time.”

“Not until you apologize for going over my head and changing things around without consulting me.”

You almost burst into laughter.

“The only one who needs to issue an apology is you, Michael. Not me. I've done nothing but bringing life into this fucking dark hole you've created. You're just too obtuse to see that.”

“You've got some fucking nerve. And who do you think is paying for all the chicken you ordered? Did you get a new vendor?”

“I know a guy. He got me a discount on the first order.”

“Really? Vendors I know don't usually do that. Did you have to suck his dick or something? Cause that's the only—”

He can't finish his sentence because before you know it, the back of your hand is swiftly flying across his face. All that vitriol that was boiling inside, begging to get out, ends plastered on his cheek that quickly turns red. Your knuckles hurt from hitting his jaw, but it was worth it.

Suddenly, you notice almost everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of you, caught in the middle of the space in a standoff.

It takes him a second to tell everyone to go back to work. You can see him fuming, but he doesn't respond or retaliate to your aggression.

As much as he deserved it, you almost regret it immediately. At least you got him to shut up for the time being. You take a ten-minute break and finish the rest of your shift without more altercations or Michael pestering you, thankfully. You're not sure if you want to come back tomorrow. You're done with his shit. It's not worth it anymore. You'll have figured out something else, cause this is never going to get better, and today was proof of that.

Almost everyone is gone when you decide to have a word with Michael after closing.

“Hey,” you say, standing by the open door to his office as he looks up from the pile of papers on his desk. “I'm going to take a couple of days off from my vacation days.”

“Yeah, I think that'd be best.” He agrees.

“Are you going to fire me?”

“It has crossed my mind.”

“Well, are you?”

“Sit down” He motions at the empty chair while he stands up to close the door behind you.

“I'm not sitting down. I'm tired of arguing with you and I wanna go home. Just tell me, Michael. No hard feelings. We'll go our separate ways, and you'll never have to deal with me again. ”

“I'm not firing you, okay? Please sit. I have something to say.”

Begrudgingly, you sigh and sit in the chair with your arms crossed while he leans on the edge of the desk.

“Look, today got out of hand, and I'm sorry for my part. I shouldn't have said that.”

“It was way out the line. But I shouldn't have slapped you, either.”

“Did it feel good to slap me?” his lips pull up at the corners.

“Maybe a little.”

You both smile for a moment, but you know there's more to say.

“I appreciate you helping here, but you can't make decisions like that when I'm gone. You should have told me first.”

“You never listen, Michael. This isn't something new. I've been telling you for months. This place needs to change, or you're going to lose it. I thought it meant something to you, but hell, what do I know? But don't worry, I'm butting out from now on. It's your business, do what you want with it.”

“I highly doubt you can do that, sweetheart. You and I both know you won’t be able to stay out of it. You just love being a pain in my ass too much.”

No, you're done for sure. If he can't at least meet you halfway, you're done trying. You can't fix this place cause you can't fix him. And that's the main issue here.

“Believe what you want, Michael.” You stand up to leave, but he's surely not even close to being done with you.

“Wait, there's something else I gotta say.”

“What?”

He steps closer in your direction, and you almost flinch when he brings his hand up to touch your face. Sighing, you let him cup your face while he leans in to kiss your mouth. It's so puzzling the effect he has on you. It’s dumb and poetic. He keeps fucking with your head like it’s some kind of fetish, and you keep letting him for no reason other than you can’t help but caring for him. You wish you didn’t, but you do love him more than you’d like to admit.

“Your lips are moving, but I don't hear any talking,” you mumble against his kiss.

“Hm, I wasn't done yet,” he licks his lips and then the tip of his tongue traces the shape of your mouth before sliding past your lips to do his talking. You don't give in so easily to his dirty antics. He's going to have to earn it.

It takes you a moment to respond to the bidding of his tongue that moves slowly against yours, begging you to kiss him back.

You should know better by now that this won't end well. This is a path you've walked many times before, and every time you end up regretting ever stepping onto it. You should duck, run, kick him in the balls, but you’re far too deep into the mind-numbing rhythm of his tongue that casts an impossible spell on you to do anything but argue with your tongue. As the heat rises, the hunger of your lips locking becomes unbearably hot to handle. You can barely breathe when you notice his hands roaming all over your body, claiming it as if it was his.

“God, I hate you so much,” you grunt into the kiss, pulling slightly from his mouth to see the vicious red that has plumbed his lips.

“I hate you more, baby,” he huffs, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he presses his crotch between your legs. “That’s how much I despise you.”

“Not as much as I do.” You undo the buttons of your jeans before grabbing his hand and shoving it into your panties to make him feel how soaked you are already.

Dark eyes lock with yours as he viciously massages your whole pussy. Before you know, you’re turning your back on him, and bending over his desk, pulling your pants and underwear down so he can fuck you from behind.

There’s no time wasted, as you brace your elbows to the table, he smoothly buries his cock in your opening, collecting all your juices. He’s hard, and you're soft in all the right places for him to thrust firmly without hurting you. His hands grip your ass while the pace of his hips quickly drive you out of your mind. You feel every stroke and thrust rippling through your body, kindling a fire within your core. You glance over your shoulder to see him darkly staring at you before smacking your ass with his palm.

“How do you like that now, huh?” He snarls, slapping your ass a second time harder, earning a moan out of you. “Yeah, I know that’s how you like it, sweetheart.”

You then hang your head and let him drive you closer to the edge. You can feel his cock twitching inside you as you send one of your hands between your legs to touch your clit.

“What? You got nothing to say now?” He leans forwards to grunt in your ear. “Good. You look prettier with your mouth shut.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” you moan as his hand follow the path of yours to helps you take care of your clit as you both nearly touch that last final line.

With the help of his fingers, and those final firm erratic thrusts, you quickly come undone, letting your walls flutter around him, bringing him down with you. He spills himself inside, holding on to you as you and him are momentarily taken by that jolt of bliss that ripples from his body to yours and vice versa.

— credits: divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[garbinge]

GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door. 

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard. 

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours. 

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled. 

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.” 

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor. 

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down. 

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood. 

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made. 

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.” 

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. 

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news. 

“I lost my job.” 

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?” 

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did. 

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it. 

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand. 

“My private dick of a boss.” 

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?” 

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him. 

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head. 

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.” 

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously. 

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.” 

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised. 

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history. 

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.” 

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you. 

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin. 

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?” 

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone. 

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought. 

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response. 

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face. 

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy. 

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned. 

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.” 

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.” 

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence. 

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?” 

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter. 

“Depends. What else you tell her?” 

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.” 

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood. 

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.” 

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly. 

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?” 

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.”  That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold. 

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.” 

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.” 

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, happy new year! Love your Elijah fics. Maybe you could do one where he turns off his humanity and the reader gets him to turn it back on again. :)

Cold Truth

{Masterlist}

You and Klaus are on a mission to turn Elijah's humanity switch back on. The only problem is that you are the reason he turned it off in the first place.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 - this one hurt! ♡♡~

4.3k words - Warnings: no smut, but so much angst, dramatic as fuck, violence, kidnapping, Klaus being Klaus, slightly spicy right at the end.

The air was thick with tension as you struggled in your restraints, glancing at Klaus as he drove down an empty street. He was humming to himself, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he was holding you hostage.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," you muttered, tugging on the cuffs that were binding your hands together. "We broke up, it's not a big deal," you added.

"Well, it seems to be a big deal to him," Klaus said, shooting you a knowing smirk. "And it's been affecting my life, so now it's a big deal to me."

You sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as you moved through the town. You didn't want to tell Klaus the details of your break up with Elijah, it was all too painful. But here you were, getting kidnapped by him, on your way to see Elijah, probably about to get murdered by the man you still loved. Great. 

"It won't work you know," you said, staring blankly out the windshield, feeling that little bit of hope in your chest die out. 

"I get that he doesn't have emotions anymore," you continued, "so he definitely doesn't care about you. Whatever little plan you have going, won't work." You sounded desperate to even your own ears, and you hated it, but at least Elijah's lack of feelings gave you an excuse not to be a complete mess when you were in his presence again. He wouldn't care, he was devoid of compassion and guilt. The thought filled your heart with an emptiness that spread to the rest of your body. You let the feeling encompass you, numbing yourself against the pain, because once this ordeal was over, you would be forced to finally accept that Elijah was really, truly, lost forever.

Klaus laughed and turned, shooting you a smirk. "I've done my fair share of terrible things," he began.

"But," he sighed and stopped laughing, "even I can see what a complete shit show this is. You broke up with him a week ago, and he flipped the switch immediately. This whole thing has been dramatic, even for my tastes."

"Oh please," you sneered, turning to glare at him. "You live for drama," you said, rolling your eyes.

Klaus snickered, shaking his head as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Yes, well, as fun as this has been, there's only so much of it I can take."

You huffed and sighed, slumping in your seat as the light turned green. You turned away from him and tried not to let your anxiety show.

"Look," Klaus began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm going to be straight with you, love. Your break up with Elijah has been, inconvenient, to put it simply. He no longer cares about my well-being or the things I do. All he wants to do is feed, kill, drink and maim. I thought I would enjoy this side of him, but it turns out, the guy's a bloody asshole. And since you might have the ability to bring him out of this mess, it's in my best interest to try and help you."

You turned your head slowly, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure do have a way of showing it. Kidnapping is pretty terrible Klaus. Do you have any idea how scared I am right now? Not only have you kidnapped me, you are forcing me to confront my ex-boyfriend after I dumped him."

"I've done plenty to upset Elijah, but he's never flipped the switch over it. What exactly did you do to him?" Klaus demanded. He leaned closer to you, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he parked the car. "I'd suggest you start talking, sweetheart," he drawled, giving you a pointed look.

You bit your lip nervously, breaking under his intense gaze. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and you looked at your lap, chewing the inside of your cheek. You told him the truth, finally letting someone in on the secret you had kept from everyone.

"I told him that I didn't love him anymore, okay? I don't know," you trailed off, tears threatening to escape your eyes. "Look, I just, I needed to tell him something and that seemed easier than telling him the truth."

"So what's the truth?" Klaus asked gently. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so you stayed still and stayed quiet, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you fought the urge to cry. After a few seconds, Klaus said your name softly, and when you looked up at him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to get ahold of yourself before you fell apart completely. "I want children, Klaus," you admitted. "And he can't give them to me. But it's okay, we broke up, and I'm fine." You were most definitely not fine, but that was beside the point. You finally confessed the truth, and felt a small bit of relief.

"Oh," he said. "Do you not want to adopt? Wouldn't surrogacy be an option? I can make a phone call and have a baby delivered to your door by tomorrow," he offered. You laughed, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

"No, Klaus. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying, really I do," you said, giving him a sincere smile. "I want to have his child, and that is... well... impossible," you sighed.

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered what he was thinking. Klaus could be a lot of things, but you could tell he truly loved his siblings, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. His devotion was almost as intense as Elijah's and fear bubbled up in your stomach, knowing you were now in the crossfire of his affections for his older brother.

"You aren't still in love with him, are you?" Klaus asked. You felt your insides tremble at the mere mention of Elijah, but it wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or your head swirl. All you could feel was sorrow, because you knew how painful it would be to see him again. To be near him, but unable to touch him.

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for your answer. When he didn't get one, he asked again. "Answer the question, love," he said.

"Of course I still love him," you mumbled. "How could I not? I will always love him." You chuckled sadly, shaking your head and shrugging. 

"Good, that will make this easier," Klaus said cheerfully, not sure how to react as he began fiddling with the radio station.

"He's going to kill me Klaus," you said, your voice flat and emotionless. "You're dragging me to him, and he's going to torture me or compel me into doing something bad and then when he's finished, he's going to kill me."

"Yes, possibly," Klaus agreed. "However, you could also bring him back and thus make my life a bit easier."

"We can only hope," you sighed. Klaus started driving towards the docks and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control the terror building within you.

"Klaus, where are we going?" you asked warily, looking around.

"Well, my dear brother isn't answering his phone, so I'm tracking it instead," he said, gritting his teeth as he continued driving.

"Can we please just leave him alone?" you begged, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"Please," you added. "I'm begging you, Klaus. Don't torture me like this, I'm not strong enough to lose him twice."

"I really don't care how you feel about this, darling," he said, reaching a hand up and patting your head, before returning it to the steering wheel. "But don't worry, I promise I won't let him kill you."

You would have responded, but Klaus took the last turn and parked in front of one of the ships on the docks. He removed the handcuffs, his eyes darting about your surroundings in paranoia as he grabbed your wrists and dragged you out of the car. You didn't put up a fight and let him pull you along, too frightened and confused to even think about struggling. This wasn't what you had been expecting when Klaus took you, and now you didn't know what to say, so you remained silent and obedient. Klaus released his grip and took a step back, heading up the ramp to the ship.

You took a shaky breath and followed him, shivering a bit as you stepped on board. There was music playing, and while the exterior of the boat looked fairly plain, the inside was quite posh and immaculately decorated. You hesitated, glancing at Klaus, but he nodded his head and you followed him into a room. You could sense that Elijah was close. You slowly breathed in and your nose twitched when you caught the strong scent of bourbon.

"I see you have already begun celebrating, brother," Klaus drawled, glancing around the room.

"That depends on how you define celebration," came a quiet response, and you shuddered at the sound of his voice. It was Elijah, your Elijah, his words ringing with a lack of inflection that wasn't entirely evident in his tone. It had a falsely polite, and strangely charming touch, like the cold indifference and arrogance that comes from experiencing and achieving total freedom.

You watched as he poured himself another glass, sitting back in a chair. He stared straight ahead, not meeting your eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the alcohol, tipping it slightly, and watching it roll around, before putting it down again, not even having taken a sip. You sniffed, doing your best to control your emotions and expression as you watched him, but your mask was slipping, and you couldn't hide the raw pain in your voice when you spoke.

"Are you okay?" you asked, sounding raspy and hoarse, even to your own ears. Normally, it would have made him feel guilty to hear you like this. Maybe he would have replied in his usual soft, intimate tone, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips gently, holding you close. But your Elijah was dead, and there was nothing left but the monster the switch had transformed him into. You glanced at his face and looked away immediately, the coldness in his dark eyes sinking into your soul. They were beautiful, and deadly, gazing at you in cold assessment, and his expression did not change as he gave you a humorless smile.

"I have never been better," he replied, not moving from his relaxed position on the chair, though you noticed a slight tightening in his jaw when you opened your mouth to speak again. You quickly snapped it shut and watched as he tapped the glass with his finger, gazing around the room and sighing. You didn't know if his admission was a good or a bad thing, but the way he carried himself, all arrogant grace and calculated casualness, had alarm bells ringing in your head, telling you that you were in great danger.

It was worse than you had expected. The man you loved, the one who had treated you with such gentleness and tenderness, the man whose heart was filled with love, loyalty and affection for you, was not present at all.

"We shouldn't have come here," you blurted out, your throat constricting at the sudden fear gripping you. His eyes flicked up to look at you, his brow furrowed as he stared. You cleared your throat, casting a worried glance at Klaus, who was standing by the bar, sipping his own drink and watching the whole scene play out.

"Why? What is the problem?" Elijah asked, and you couldn't tell if he was acting cavalier or genuinely didn't care. "You said you wanted to break up, and I obliged you. So tell me," he said, his dark eyes meeting yours, "why are you here?"

"Because," you began, but quickly lost your train of thought, shaking your head and trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. You sucked in a deep breath, tilting your chin up as you spoke. "Because we still have stuff we need to talk about, and we can't when you are like this."

"Like what?" he asked, sounding bored. Your jaw clenched as he casually poured himself more alcohol, draining the contents of his glass quickly and sighing.

"Well," Klaus interrupted, walking over and leaning forward on his knees, "You could start by being a tad less cocky, and try actually listening."

Elijah smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Niklaus, I suggest you shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out."

"That would be amusing," Klaus shot back, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, or have you forgotten I am stronger than you? You can't hurt me."

"Hmm," Elijah hummed thoughtfully, staring intently at his younger brother. "Let's test that."

Before either of you could react, Elijah reached out and grabbed the back of Klaus' head, yanking him forward and bringing his face inches from his own. He glared at him, snarling as Klaus groaned in pain.

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus growled, his fingers flexing. Klaus easily pried his hands off of him and forced him to release him. He shoved Elijah back into the chair, a vicious smirk on his face as he crossed his arms.

"Eli," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You moved to touch his arm, but he snatched it out of your reach and pushed it back, baring his fangs at you, his eyes completely black.

"Do not call me that," he responded coldly, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Elijah said to his brother, and you felt the sadness you had been suppressing all day come rushing back full force. You would not be strong enough to get through this.

"Oh don't blame me, dear brother," Klaus retorted, clasping his hands together and glaring at him in frustration. "It's very much her fault that you turned your humanity off, so I brought her here to fix her mistake."

"A mistake I care not to rectify," Elijah said, lifting his chin up haughtily.

"Oh," Klaus scoffed, fixing him with a nasty glare, "I bet you don't."

"Shut up," you mumbled, blinking furiously. Your legs were shaking, your knees about to give out as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Klaus stepped closer to you and you leaned against him, trembling, clinging to his shirt.

"Get a grip," Klaus hissed, glaring down at you in annoyance. He wrapped a hand around your throat and turned you around to face Elijah. His grip tightened, and you gasped in surprise and pain, your eyes wide as they met Elijah's intense gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, something within him stirred at the sight of your fear, but it was buried beneath the ice of his indifference. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stood up, smoothing down his tie as he approached.

"Niklaus, you are so painfully transparent," he began, an edge of amusement coloring his tone, "I do not care if you hurt her," he added, and his words cut deeper than any physical blow could.

"Eli," you pleaded, a soft whisper of pure agony coming from your lips, "How could you possibly say that? You swore you would always take care of me, protect me." He lowered his eyes, studying your features carefully. He looked down at you, stroking his chin.

"Hmm, you know, now that you say that, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he said, chuckling and stepping closer.

You shut your eyes, stifling a sob and trying to hide the fact that his words had broken your heart, shattering it into pieces. You couldn't bear his mockery, it was almost worse than not having him at all. It made the excruciating pain much more unbearable. Elijah stared at you, leaning closer and brushing a stray hair off of your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours for a split second, causing your lips to part in surprise and confusion, wanting his mouth to capture yours, knowing that the press of his lips was something you would always miss. Even when he was a monster, you felt yourself reacting to him instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But the kiss did not come, and he pulled away before you could rise to meet him.

"Do you think she knows how many ways she can die?" Elijah asked his brother, and Klaus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I mean, with enough patience and creativity, even the simplest forms of death, can be quite extraordinary," he drawled.

Klaus pulled you back from Elijah, his grip on you tightening, you weren't sure who you feared more in that moment. "Elijah, I made a promise that I would not let you kill her," Klaus said, and Elijah rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

"That promise can easily be broken," he said, as if talking about the weather.

"Actually, I thought I would take a page out of your book, find a loophole in the promise I made," Klaus said, his voice taunting as he smiled cruelly. You stopped breathing at his words, your body going rigid, Klaus was going to kill you.

"Elijah?" you whispered desperately, praying that he would protect you from Klaus. You were so cold, and you couldn't move, rooted in place with fear. He turned around abruptly, shrugging his shoulders as he walked across the room to make a new drink.

"You can go ahead and drain her if you so wish. It makes no difference to me," he said.

"Sorry love, I have to call his bluff," Klaus said, patting your head and then running a hand through your hair as his fangs grazed your neck. His voice was dark and malicious. "Say your goodbyes," he smirked.

"Klaus, please," you cried, panic coursing through you, but before he could do anything more, Elijah lunged at him, tearing him away from you. Your back hit the floor hard, your head snapping against the wood, causing you to see stars. You cradled your head, tasting blood in your mouth as you rolled on the floor. Elijah tackled Klaus, growling and snarling viciously, his fingers clenched around his brother's neck as he pinned him to the ground.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," Elijah warned, but Klaus only smirked, using all his strength to shove Elijah off of him. Elijah's back connected with a pillar, falling to the floor as he clutched his head. He just sat there, head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, taking quick, shuddering breaths, attempting to regain some sort of composure. You crawled your way over to him, too dazed to stand up.

"Eli," you gasped, lifting his face up and forcing him to look at you. He didn't try to pull away, letting you caress his jaw. You slowly stroked his hair, shushing him gently as your fingers trailed over his cheekbones.

"Get away from me," he groaned, grabbing your wrist to keep you from touching him. His mind was reeling from the violent overload of emotions coursing through him. Having you here, so close to him, wanting him, loving him, it overwhelmed him, bringing back every single moment he had spent with you, every beautiful, painful, joyous moment of his entire existence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, reaching out to touch him. He wasn't pushing you away, he was just sitting there, hunched over, breathing heavily. Your mind was too foggy to think about the consequences of your actions. There was an excruciating ache in your chest, and you needed Elijah to hold you.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, nuzzling him and letting tears stream down your face. He stilled, not fighting you, but not holding you.

"I lied to you Elijah, I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him tighter. "I love you, I never stopped. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He didn't move, keeping his expression guarded as he put an arm around you, turning his body slightly to pull you in closer. He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips to the side of your head in a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, your scent invading his nose, your hair tickling his neck. He sighed, your words, your presence, it was like a spark lighting up a flame of emotions in his chest as the switch in his head turned back on.

"I could never stop loving you," he murmured, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit, keeping you close to him.

"Well, looks like my work is done. Do give her a ride home when you are done, Elijah," Klaus drawled, smirking in triumph as he stood watching you, before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Elijah gripped your chin gently and forced you to turn to face him. You were horrified by the sadness in his dark eyes, but the relief you felt at seeing the love there tore you apart, and you burst into tears, gripping his face and pulling him towards you, kissing his lips, his jaw, his forehead, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

"Darling," he sighed, looking down at your tear stained face. He gently ran his thumb over your cheekbone, bringing your forehead to his as he just held you.

"Forgive me, I-I-was so scared," you managed to get out, but he hushed you, your breathing synchronizing as he hugged you tightly, running a hand through your hair.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, pulling away and stroking your neck, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.

"I was afraid," you replied, sniffing and wiping your tears. "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it would be easier to let you go if I pushed you away instead."

"What were you afraid of?" he questioned, guiding your face up, needing to see your beautiful, tear filled eyes.

"I was terrified at the prospect of getting old, growing old, and putting you through that. You'd have to watch as you lived a lifetime with me, and eventually I would be gone and you would be left alone," you gasped out, the words flowing out unbidden, unable to control yourself now that the gates had been opened. "and.. I want children of my own, and a family, I can't have all of that with you. This past week I've been so torn, I thought leaving you was the best thing to do, because I knew my choice would hurt you, and you didn't deserve that, and I didn't know how else to do this."

Elijah smiled sadly, shaking his head and cupping your cheeks. "None of that matters, my darling, and it never will. Don't you understand that? You are worth the heartache, the pain, the loss. You are worth being human for."

He kissed you gently, brushing your hair out of your face, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as you fisted your hands in his shirt, allowing him to pour all of his love and heartache into the kiss. You were left breathless, staring into his eyes, seeing the sadness there that matched yours.

"As for children, I know a few witches that could help us solve that issue," he said. You blinked rapidly, stunned that his answer was so easy, simple. The corners of his lips quirked up, and you felt your heart thundering in your chest, desperate to have him, keep him forever.

"Do you want that? To have children with me?" you asked, your hands in his, hoping, praying, that he truly understood what he was getting himself into.

"With you, yes, anything you wish for, I will give you," he replied, resting his head on your shoulder, and nuzzling your neck. You drew in a deep breath, so relieved and overcome with a surge of emotions that you grabbed his head and planted another firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that had you smiling despite all the tears you were shedding. Your fingers were clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer to you as you continued to kiss him, memorizing everything, his taste, the curves of his lips, the way his tongue felt against yours. He put his arm around your waist, and shifted, scooping you up into his lap, and into his arms.

"When was the last time we made love?" he whispered against your lips, pulling away and looking into your eyes, his gaze caressing your features softly.

"Three months," you whispered, stroking his stubbled jaw, running your fingers over his lips, marveling at the feel of his warm, soft skin, thinking that you almost never had the chance to be with him again.

"That's much too long," he murmured, sliding his hands up your thighs and grinning seductively. You chuckled, feeling a heated blush creep up your neck and spread across your cheeks. His fingers traced the edge of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I love you, Elijah Mikaelson," you said, grinning broadly as your fingers threaded through his hair, savoring the feel of it. He just sat, staring at you with warmth and adoration, unspoken love shining in his deep brown eyes.

"For eternity, I will love you, my y/n," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against yours, and you melted into him, gripping the back of his neck as you felt a piece of your soul slide back into place, wrapped tightly around his heart.

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader - Nosebleed

Content Warnings/Kinks: slut-shaming, violence (not during sex), dominance, hickeys, nipple play, finger sucking, cum swallowing, light edging, sub/dom dynamic (collaring), daddy kink, praise kink, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex 

Nosebleed

"Man, you're dumb letting your girl out of the house in that outfit" a man slurred from the alleyway beside the club they were on their way to.

Bucky stilled, his hand tensing where it was placed on the small of Y/n's back. 

"Bucky don't-" Y/n started.

"Move" he growled, his words harsh, a no-nonsense command. 

She hesitated, on one hand, the guy was being rude but on the other, he was just a stupid asshole...did he really deserve to be beaten up by a super soldier just because of one comment? No, Y/n decided at that moment, she didn't deserve to be slut-shamed and if Bucky wanted to make sure that man never said something vile to another woman then so be it. She pulled herself up and moved aside, nodding at Bucky as she did, indicating that he could get violent. 

Y/n turned, looking away as she heard Bucky's first blow landing and the man's groan of pain in response. 

"Please" the man begged, "I didn't do anything" 

"You didn't do anything?" She heard Bucky chuckle darkly, "You don't count slut-shaming women as doing something asshole?"

"Fuck man" he groaned, "I didn't mean it I swear" 

Bucky punched him again. Hard. 

"Yeah fucking right" 

Y/n turned just in time to see Bucky lift the man up off of the ground and slam him against the wall. 

"Owwww" the man howled. 

"Bucky," Y/n said quietly. 

His gaze flicked toward her, steel blue eyes turned almost grey with anger. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bleeding nose, the other man must have gotten a good punch in. 

"Let's go home" she added, "He's not worth it" 

"Yea man listen to your girl" the man choked out. 

Bucky dropped him, letting go of his collar and turning toward Y/n, taking her hand. 

"Fucking crazy" the man mumbled under his breath. 

Bucky snapped, turning back around and punching the guy so hard he fell onto the ground, knocked out.

"Now we can go" Bucky growled. 

~

Y/n and Bucky walked into Zemo's apartment. It was late so the two other men were already in bed. Bucky gripped Y/n's hand, squeezing it, before asking: 

"Can you help me get cleaned up?"

"Sure" she smiled before leading him to the en-suite bathroom in her room.

Bucky balanced himself against the edge of the sink, leaning back, squinting down at Y/n. She wet a towel and started to mop up the wound on his face that would surely leave a bruise the next morning. 

"You know I didn't need you to defend me tonight" Y/n sighed as she blotted the blood away. 

"I know Y/n but I can't just let people say that kind of thing about you" he sighed. 

"My knight in shining armour" she chuckled dryly. 

"I'm no knight Y/n" he grumbled as she dabbed under his nose. 

"Bucky" she whispered. 

She hadn't realized how close their faces were until then. 

"Yeah?" he whispered back. 

She reached a hand up, tangling it with the hair at the nape of his neck, just above his blood-stained shirt collar. 

"You're a good guy you know?" she stated, a small smile on her lips "I don't want you forgetting it" 

He closed the gap between them, drawing his lips to hers. His were warm and soft, softer than she'd expected. Y/n kissed him back hungrily, gripping his hair, and pulling him closer. 

He pressed up against her, moving her backward into her room, their kisses becoming deeper by the second. Y/n yelped as the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. Bucky threw her down forcefully before climbing over top of her. His face was inches from hers but not a single part of him touched her shivering body. 

"Can I touch you?" He begged gruffly, a growl forming deep in his throat. 

She nodded, her nose brushing his as she did, the small touch sending a fire through both their desperate bodies.

Bucky slid his metal hand under her back, unzipping her short dress before pulling it entirely off of her, groaning when he saw the lingerie she was wearing underneath. She smirked up at him, pleased that the simple black lace set turned him on. 

"Can you take it off for me doll?" He growled as he balanced above her, taking in her body hungrily. 

Y/n nodded before obeying, not breaking eye contact with him as she undid her bra, throwing it onto the floor. Bucky leant down planting kisses from her jaw down to her neck to her chest, sucking on her sensitive skin. 

"So beautiful" he breathed onto her skin, "So fucking beautiful" 

He continued, slinking lower and lower until he was settled between her thighs. He kissed the bare skin next to her panty line, his warm, red lips making her cold skin shiver. With one swift motion, he ripped her panties off of her. He kissed her inner thighs, again and again, leaving purple marks behind. When he finally reached her pussy she was already aroused, completely ready for him and the pleasure he was about to bring her. 

"Please..." she whined desperately.

Bucky began by tracing lazy circles around her clit, making her hips buck upwards to meet his expert tongue. 

"Mmm," she moaned, tilting her head back in pleasure as her thighs spread open even further, giving Bucky full access to her aching pussy.

Her whimpers and little breathy moans did nothing but turn Bucky on even more. He felt his cock tighten in his pants as Y/n whispered his name and looked down at him with her doe eyes. 

The longer he continued the more she clenched inside, her body begging for an orgasm. 

As if he knew exactly what she needed next, he ran his finger up and down her slit, letting it get soaked by her building juices before slipping it inside her. The initial feeling of Bucky's curling fingers hitting her g-spot made her breathe hitch and a loud whimper escape her mouth. 

"You're so fucking good for me doll" he groaned, the feeling of her clenching around his fingers making his cock harder by the second. 

As he continued lapping circles around her clit and curling his fingers inside her pussy her body reacted to every movement, back arching off of the bed, toes curling. A warmth then spread across her chest as her lower body quivered in anticipation.

"Fuck" she breathed, every single curse word she uttered making him even more aroused. He wanted to get inside her so badly but he knew she needed this, to be warmed up first.

"Mm hm," she mumbled before another louder moan escaped her lips.

Her hips jerked up and down as she came but Bucky held her in place, gripping her thighs tightly, pleasing her through the waves of her release. 

Y/n was wet now, her pussy sticky with cum as she lay breathing heavily on the bed. When she calmed down she slunk her hand down Bucky's chest, unbuttoning his tight white button-up shirt as she did. She threw the blood-stained item to the side, letting herself admire Bucky's taut abs. 

She then gripped the edge of his belt, looking deeply into his eyes before asking: 

"Daddy?" 

She could practically see Bucky's cock jump in his pants. 

"Yes?" He questioned back, his neck visibly strained. 

"Can you fuck me please?"

Bucky complied without another word, sliding a thick finger up her wet slit before shoving it in her mouth, forcing her to taste her own juices. She sucked on it as he unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of the loops and then holding it between his hands. 

"Will you wear this for me doll?" He asked. 

Y/n's eyes widened slightly, she knew wearing a collar was important to any sub/dom couple. She nodded, ready for whatever was to come. 

He slid the leather through the buckle, tightening the belt around her neck causing her to gasp, it was tight but not uncomfortably so. He ran a vibranium finger from the clasp of the belt up to her chin until his cool hand rested on her cheek. 

"Ready?" 

She nodded and Bucky slid into her wet pussy, grunting as he felt her tighten around his cock. It curved perfectly within her, immediately hitting the right spot. When he began to speed up his thrusts her pussy clenched, sucking him deeper inside her, causing him to groan.

She looked up and made eye contact with him as he continued slamming into her making his cock tighten. He leaned forward without looking away, resting his forehead on hers and staring deep into her eyes. Their breaths intermingled, moans practically in sync. Bucky reached his hand down, as he pressed small kisses on her cheeks and temple and then began rubbing her clit, bringing her all the pleasure she needed. 

Y/n sighed, tilting her head back into her pillow as she relaxed into the feeling of his movements on her clit and his rough thrusts. How was it possible that he was so rough and so gentle at the same time?

"Fuck me you feel so good" she groaned, her nose scrunching. 

"My pretty girl's got a dirty mouth huh?" he chuckled before beginning to suck on the crook of her neck. 

"Mmm," she replied, at a loss for words. 

She moved her hips, matching the pace of his hard thrusts, every movement bringing her more and more pleasure. Bucky slid a hand down her body, gripping her outer thigh, likely leaving bruises, pushing her leg up toward her head while the other rubbed fiercely around and around her clit. Every once in a while he'd remove his fingers to spit on them again, edging her, and every time he'd make her beg: 

"You want me to rub that pretty little clit doll?" He cooed the question. 

"Yes, Daddy please" she whined. 

He continued pleasing her as her body ached for the feeling she knew only he could provide. Soon, her body was overwhelmed. Between him fucking her roughly with his perfect cock and him rubbing her clit she was overcome. 

"Fuck I'm close" she breathed before she came. 

"Good girl" he praised as she tensed around his cock, "such a good girl cumming for me"

She came hard as he thrust, her insides squeezing before loosening, going slack on the plush mattress. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body and he fucked her through every one, coaxing her orgasm out of her body with his hard pumping, soft whispers of her name, and sloppy kisses on her sensitive neck. Bucky groaned loudly and the vein in his neck throbbed, she could tell he was close to cumming as well.

"Ahh," she moaned, looking up at him with grateful eyes as she felt his cum splash within her. 

They both panted as he pulled out, the mixture of their cum dripping down onto the mattress. 

"You were such a good girl for me doll" he stated warmly, taking her in his arms and kissing her on the forehead. 

"Thanks" she smiled, her breathing calming down as she lay comfortably on his firm chest. 

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 - Need | Chapter 6

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment your request on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 6.7k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

It had been a few weeks since you and Sukuna had talked. You had continued attending various meetings and hearings alongside him to snoop in people’s minds. Word had already spread of your presence. A woman with a shirt adorned with gold buttons sat beside the king and gave him notes. Notes that led to death. When people came in with their heads down, you could feel their gaze linger when they realized you were there. The way they grew tenser, their thoughts becoming a dark jumble. It was fun really, the amount of fear you and Sukuna put into people when together.

When it came to you two, he kept to his word of taking things slow. He often showed up at your door to take you to his chambers to share dinner. You hadn’t had sex but you had been teasing each other. Your ass “accidentally” grinding into him at night or you “not noticing” your boob had slipped out of your nightgown during the night. Him whispering your name into your ear in the morning, voice gruff, and arms wrapped around you. Or the way his tongue danced along your neck before he would bite you, one hand pulling in your hair, two on your hips, and the other resting beside your breast. His scent would completely encapsulate you, his touch would make your body forget how to breathe. You both pushed but neither had broken. It almost felt like a competition now, a stupid one that you weren’t sure was possible to actually win. That’s why you were sitting in a meeting with the King, thighs clenched together and thoughts a mess. Messy thoughts telling you to use cursed energy to tease him, touch along his body. Caress all the places you couldn’t. If Uruame wasn’t there you really might’ve. Instead, you sat frustrated and waited for the meeting to end.

When everyone was finally dismissed from the room, you let out a groan. Sukuna turned his head to look at you, his smile growing evermore. “You may look up now, since you’ve been such a good girl for me”, he said. Gods you hated it when he first called you that, made you feel like an animal. Now that asshole had made you subconsciously like it. You looked up at him, eyes carved by features of anger, but irises soaking with whispers of lust. You wanted to tell him to break, to touch you, but if you did then you would be the one to break. So instead you moved yourself into his lap, legs straddling him, breasts pressed against his chest, arms around his neck, and head resting above his heart. You thought about when he fucked you like this, his extra mouth moving between your clit and nipples as his cocks hammered in and out of you.

“Who gave you permission to crawl on your King like this?” His voice was teasing, he knew how much you wanted him right then. He wanted it too. He had already been caught on multiple occasions with his pants forming a tent. Just yesterday he was in a hearing without you and ended up growing hard during it. The peasant talked about how he was starving and blah blah blah. All he could think about was being inside you again, hearing you call out for him as he fucked you until he was satisfied. He thought this little game you two were playing was stupid, but he also refused to lose. He wouldn’t let you know he wanted you as much as he did. His hands let themselves free to explore your body, purposely getting close but not on the spots you wanted him. He chuckled as your body responded to his touch, arching into it in a plea for more. A chuckle that made you immediately get out of his lap.

“Asshole”, you said while straightening your clothes out.

“Asshole? And here I was calling you a good girl and letting you sit in my lap. If you want me to touch you further, all you have to do is ask. I won’t even make you beg.” He remained seated on his place on the floor but pulled you closer as he spoke. His face was just a few inches from your ever-clenching cunt. As you looked down at him you thought back to when you told him you wanted to ride his face and drown him in your cum. His face would look so shiny and pretty. You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes rolling closed as you massaged his scalp, before leaning down next to his ear.

“That’s where we differ then, Sukuna, I will make you beg to touch me. To stick your fingers inside me, to let your tongue taste the effect you have on me, to put your cocks back in their warm cozy homes, to feel them suck you in and drench you in my cum.” You punctuated your last whispered sentence by biting his ear. A small puncture wound opened up and blood began rushing to escape. You pulled away as the first drop beaded and prepared to descend. You gathered it on your index finger before sliding it into your mouth. Blood trailed on your bottom lip as it slid in and your cheeks hollowed as you pulled it back out. A loud pop resonating in the air. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and let your eyes roll back as you sucked the remaining blood away. A small moan reverberated through your chest, muted by your closed lips, but loud enough to be effective. The very obvious bulge in his pants twitched from the show you were putting on. His hands gripped tighter on your body, his eyes dark and drooping with need. You pulled from his grip and told him good luck with the rest of his schedule. He watched as you walked out the door, wanting to rebuttal or tease you back, but his voice was overshadowed by the war raging between his ego and hormones.

You walked along the palace halls feeling a little better. You were still extremely horny, but you felt a bit better after making sure he was equally miserable. You could already see the sun setting through the windows, the back-to-back meetings you sat through these days had messed with your sense of time. You stretched your arms over your head and attempted to yawn away your body's growing ache. The cushion you sat on in your meetings was an absolute poor excuse for a seat. You wondered how Sukuna sat on his for hours day after day without any signs of pain. Maybe he had a better one, you’d have to check next time. If it was, you would have to steal his until he got you a new one. You turned the hall to your room and were greeted by fewer servants than usual. Two of your male servants were missing from the ensemble and the remaining women looked down in fear.

“Where are Itto and Hiro”, you asked as you stopped in front of them.

Their figures all seemed to stutter at the question, bodies tense and breathes withheld. “T-they have been moved to different jobs ma’am”, Aoi said.

You blinked a few times at Aoi in disbelief. If you had to guess, Sukuna was killing of any possible threats to his courting you. Which part of you found hot, but the other part was pissed that you just lost two perfectly good servants for nothing. You gave a stiff nod to the remaining servants and entered your room. Orange light whispered across your floor as a notice of the sun lowering in the sky. You pulled out a bottle of sake Sukuna had gifted you and poured yourself a drink. Being with Sukuna was fun and of course came with endless perks, but also felt a little suffocating. With him killing your servants, you began to wonder if you were going to be segregated from men altogether. He had promised to try not to be possessive, but here he was doing the exact opposite. You sighed before taking your glass to a seating area in front of one of your windows. You looked out across the palace, the intricate architecture, neatly kept foliage, hurried servants, and river that outlined one side. It was grand. Most people would kill to be where you were, to have the King “properly” courting you. The way he had started to dote on you by giving you his time. The way he actually listened to you and was actively trying to respect your boundaries. The big scary monster he was known to be taking off a mask that not even he knew he wore when he was around you. However, most people that challenged him were slaughtered on the spot, never giving him the chance to truly learn how to interact with another.

There was a lot in common between you two, but he was definitely more bloodthirsty. Not that you had never killed over an insignificant reason, but you did it a lot less than him. You wondered if you would grow to be more cruel as you aged. From what you had heard, Sukuna was at least over 100, which would make him roughly 3 times your age. In the 27 years you had been on earth, you had been through a lot and there were definitely times you thought about annihilating every being that infected the surface. When you met Ieiri, that was exactly your plan actually, but she changed it. She made you realize there are some people that actually deserved to live. Then you meant Kento and it solidified your thinking. They became two unexpected lessons given to you. You would never hurt them, in fact, you would show the depths of hell to anyone who dared lay a finger on them. Like the guy who tried to force himself on Ieiri or the drunk patron who attempted to break a bottle over Kento’s head. Two lowly parasites that believed they had a right to harm those under your protection. Two vile infections that still lay in your realm being tortured and healed without stopping.

You took a drink as you thought of Sukuna’s threat to them. The night of the incident, you had sent a very eager Miro to inform Ieiri to keep her guard up and not to slack on training her energy with Kento. You had also sent various curses to help protect and prepare them for an event that might never come to pass. But should it, you would be ready. You ran your fingers across the smooth clay container. Anxiety and anger swirl inside like the liquid in your glass. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. Sukuna would probably come for dinner and there was no use getting into a fight over an issue that had already been as resolved as it would get. It would only make things tense between you two again and there was obviously no benefit to that. You opened your eyes and leaned back into your chair, the plushness of the cushions enveloping your body in the warmth of comfort. You rested your drink in your lap as your lids fell with the sun. You knew you should stave off the urge to curl up and instead get ready to meet with Sukuna, but something about falling asleep when you weren’t supposed to made it all the more inviting.

Your eyes open but are greeted with the abyss. You go to touch them but a loud rattle of a chain echoes throughout the space. The smell of musty pine overwhelms your senses and panic sets in as you realize where you are. Underneath you sprawls a plush bed covered in various body fluids. You have no idea how long he has kept you in his private room this time. How long doesn’t matter here. Nothing matters here. Even if you died it wouldn’t matter. No one would ever know, ever cry. Just another human discarded by their fellow people. You hear footsteps awakening creaks in the stairs— his footsteps. “Oh Angel” “My Little Dove” he calls out. Pet names given for your appearance. An appearance you’ve never even seen. Apparently, one that screams pure, one that makes others want to defile you. The handle jiggles on the door and you feel the air change as it opens. You want to start crying and were internally screaming and wishing you could run. But if you cried or screamed it would simply enhance his pleasure. He liked the sounds you made for him. If you got out and ran it would be pointless. You had no idea where you were, nor could you see, and you had nowhere to go anyway. He would just find you and laugh as he punished you. Mock as you reached out blindly to try and shield yourself from his attack. You could feel the dip in the bed as he got on and began his nightly onslaught. You drifted off into your mind, disassociating from your physical being. You walked into the darkness within yourself, but this time you saw light far away. Your eyes widened and your pace quickened as you charted towards it. As you grew closer you saw colors, colors outlining shapes you didn’t recognize. Each with different layers. It was beautiful. But in the middle stood a girl. Her hair was dark and crawling in the air. Her eyes were a deep black that mimicked endless voids. Her jaw drooped to the point it pulled her cheeks taut. Her head tilted toward the side as she noticed you. She beckoned you closer, not with any motion, but with a feeling deep inside you. You slowly approached her and she gestured towards the lights around you. You looked around at it all and realized these shapes were people. You began to feel the colors, the feelings embedded in them. For the first time, you felt like you could actually see. You looked back towards the girl and noticed she was already staring at you. Her mouth didn’t move but you heard, “Let me in”, from a raspy voice of a woman who seemed much older than the one before you. Apprehension crossed your thoughts, but what was the point of being scared? What was the point in fearing the unknown when the known wasn’t worth being in? So you said yes. The world around you started spinning, your hair whipping in your face as hers erratically lashed the air. Her face glitched between a hanging mouth and a smile dripping with black goo. Fear crept in you before you were pulled back to reality. Before you, the man assaulting you was in view. You could see the outline of his form and the emotions that made up his psyche. You could see his hands reach out to touch you. You were no longer in the dark, but seeing didn’t resolve the fear and pain you felt currently.

Sukuna walked up to your door, eyes dismissing the servants, as he reached out his hand and knocked against the wood. He listened closely but there was no answer. He shifted on his feet, eyebrows knitting his features into a confused look that was losing patience. He knocked again and called out your name, but again there was no answer. A frustrated breath slipped through his lips as he decided to just open the door. He called out for you again as he entered the room, but quickly silenced himself as he spotted you curled up by the window. You sat in your chair, legs outstretched, hands meeting in your lap to hold a glass, hair falling in erratic waves left from being up the whole day. Your lips lay slightly parted as calm breaths filtered in and out. All of Sukuna’s previous frustrations melted away as he watched you. This was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you, and he was shocked that he didn’t see it as an opportunity to attack you. Instead, he found himself wanting to be at your side and guarding you so that you could sleep in peace. He slowly approached you and knelt down. He could see the slight wear under your eyes that had appeared after your coming here. He wondered how tired you felt and how differently you lived prior to the palace. He knew bits and pieces from when he had Uruame stalk you, but not enough. He wanted to see what happened throughout your day when you were fully unrestricted. What made you laugh, what made you cry? What trouble did you get into and what were the kind of people that you spared? He knew you could be just as evil as him, but he also knew you could be more benevolent than he saw the need to be. A few days ago he watched from afar as you healed a cat and then proceeded to bring it food and water the following days. But he also watched a servant’s legs snap the wrong way when they tried to run the cat off. Such an unpredictable anomaly that had walked into his palace and turned everything upside down for him. He reached to move a stray group of hair out of your face but was abruptly stopped by your hand. It pulled his wrist while your other reached up for his throat, holding him close with a death grip. He looked into your eyes and noticed they were vacant of the color he was used to, instead they were blacked out completely. Just like when you threatened to kill him.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you”, he said as he looked into the voids. Your grip loosened as you blinked. The black receded until all that was left were the same tired eyes he was used to seeing, slowly lighting up in realization.

“Oh shit sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to”, you scrambled to say as you let him go. You had never done well when people unexpectedly touched you while you slept. Especially when you were having flashbacks.

Sukuna watched you as you let him go and your face flushed with embarrassment. You weren’t usually a jumpy person or one to easily spook, but there seemed to be an exception when you were sleeping. He didn’t know much about your past, not even Uruame could find anything out, but you had mentioned being owned previously. Not that he knew how anyone could overpower you, but there were few stories where people enjoyed being owned. He was sure it tied into that somehow, but he wouldn't press the matter.

“No, it's my bad. You know what they say about poking a sleeping bear”, he said with a smile as he rubbed his wrist. Had he been a human or even a lower-grade sorcerer, he was sure it would be cracked if not fully broken from the force you applied.

You smiled back at his joke before your eyes widened in surprise. You felt wet fabric cling to your leg and realized you must have spilled your drink in all the commotion. “Awh, dammnit”, you said as you got up and observed the wet spot going from your upper to mid-thigh and a little on the floor.

Sukuna also noticed the mess and got up with you. “Here I’ll clean it since I’m the one who scared you”, he said as he went to grab a towel.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault for freaking out anyway”, you said as you followed him to get a towel. You tried to reach to grab it before him but he instead grabbed your hand and used another to grab the towel.

“Let me do it”, he said as he looked down at you. You wanted to rebuttal but nodded instead. There was a certain softness in his eyes almost akin to pity. You didn’t exactly appreciate pity nor did you understand why his eyes were so full of it so you just looked down. He led you over to the bed and put one towel beneath you before leaving your side to clean the spot on the floor. You watched as he knelt down and sopped up the little bit of liquid. It felt weird seeing him clean. The fearsome King knelt down on the ground cleaning up a mess you made. Once he got it, he walked back over to you and felt the wet spot on your pants.

“You probably want to take these off. They’re too wet for the towel to dry”, he said while his hands moved to the small tie on the side of your pants. He pulled the string and started pulling them off your hips, telling you to lift up to let them pass under you. You did as he said and were left with your bodice and underwear. He sat between your legs and wiped the towel across your skin. His hand grabs your leg and moves it up to get your upper thigh. You could feel your clit start throbbing as he neared it. You looked down at him, the care he applied when cleaning you. The way his eyes gave off no motive other than rectifying his mess. You reached down and cupped his face, gently nudging it up to look at you as your hand moved under his jaw. You garnered the attention of all four of his eyes as your thumb caressed his face.

“What is it”, he asked as he looked up at you. He had never seen you look at him the way you were. Lust swirling in your eyes but an unfamiliar emotion dancing with it. It was akin to need but not in the same carnal league as the lust. It was deeper, he could feel it radiating from you. Like it was welcoming him in.

“It is still sticky. I think it needs to be cleaned up differently,” you said as your thumb slid across his cheek to his lips. You wanted him, but you needed him to take it at your pace this time. You wanted to stay in control in order to fight the feeling your nightmare left behind to eat away at you.

His eyebrow quirked up as he caught your meaning. He tossed the towel to the side before rubbing his thumb along your thigh. “I think you’re right, it is still pretty sticky here darling”, he said while grabbing your hand and kissing it before leaning down to your thigh. He had never felt the need to care for someone, to show them love, but right now that feeling swelled in him until he couldn’t help but let it flow out. He didn’t know if it was because he was feeling your feelings or if it simply stemmed from him, and he didn’t really care. He looked up at you before licking a long stripe up your thigh. The face you made for him and the way your breath hitched had him wanting to stop time. To stay in the moment that you looked at him as if he was the only one in the world, the only man for you. He wanted everyone to know that these moments with you belonged to him, that you belonged to him. He didn’t care if some people saw it as a weakness. Anyone that dared state is as one would be thoroughly re-educated by you and him together.

You looked down and watched as he lapped at your skin. Your skin sank into his mouth as he sucked on certain spots, dark little marks blooming in his wake. You couldn’t help a moan that fell out when he bit one spot, his tongue quickly cleaning up the blood that greeted him. “You seem to be making more messes rather than cleaning”, you said as your fingers threaded themselves through his hair, pulling it tightly earning a low groan from him.

His lids lowered as his gaze kept yours. “My deepest apologies. I suppose I will have to take more time focusing on every inch of your skin. Assuring there is absolutely no mess left behind”, he said in between strokes of his tongue. The mouth on his hand joined to suck the sensitive skin right before where your thighs met your pelvis. His thumb and forefinger held the seam where they did.

“Naughty King. You’re making an even bigger mess with what you’re doing”, you said as you scratched his scalp tenderly.

“Hmm is that so? Where is said mess baby girl? I’ll make sure to clean it too”, he said as he kissed over the bruised areas and massaged his thumb right beside your pubic bone.

“You seem to have gotten my underwear wet, Kuna. Too wet to be dried. I think they need to come off and the area beneath needs to be cleaned.”

He looked up at you and smirked. “Is this your way of admitting defeat by asking me to touch you?”

You raised your eyebrows in faux shock and exclaimed, “Oh no, of course not. This is simply you sticking to your word and cleaning up the messes you’ve made. Are you saying you’re the kinda King that goes back on his word?”

“Ohoho careful there brat”, he said as he ripped your underwear off. He pulled you close and sank his lips down to around your clit. He sucked in sharply without warning as his tongue started swirling rapidly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and arched your back to increase the suction being applied. “You should know better than to question me as a King. I think I am being more than generous right now, no?”

“I think you’re focusing on one spot for too long. Such lack of diligence when it comes to cleanliness”, you retorted while pulling his mouth off of you. “Put your tongue out flat.”

His tongue darted out to gather the mess you had left on his lips, “Such a bossy little brat tonight”. He laid out his tongue as you instructed before surprising you by stealing a lick across your spread labia. The sensation only lasted a minute before you were using his shoulders to lift yourself with your legs, one hand balancing you on the bed and the other in his hair as you pushed your cunt against his tongue. You let out a slow moan as you started by slowly sliding yourself up and down across his tongue. He groaned as he watched you use his to pleasure yourself, something the King wasn’t used to happening. But the way you sucked on your bottom lip as your hooded eyes watched where you two connected had him more than happy to be used by you. He watched the way your stomach muscles flexed as you moved on him, felt how you twitched against his tongue and smelled the arousal that began to pool on his chin. You were so breathtaking like this. He felt the emotions you had wrapped him in begin to change as the uneasiness you originally felt faded away. Sukuna had given you control of the situation and didn’t fight you on it. He didn’t make you cower before him or wantonly obey him. He wasn’t perfect, but fuck it was so attractive that you could see him trying to change for you. The emotionless monster showing you sides that didn’t exist before you came into his life.

Your grip tightened on his hair as your pace started to quicken. The sensation of his soft yet textured tongue constantly touching every part of your folds and rubbing your clit bare and through the hood was driving you insane. Your vision felt like it was spinning, you were starting to have a hard time focusing as the tension inside your abdomen grew. You were close and you both knew it. When your thighs started to shake and your rhythm started to falter, Sukuna’s hands found their way to your thighs and waist as he helped stabilize and guide you through your orgasm. Small cries left your lips as the pleasure took you over, Sukuna’s tongue working to milk every last drop of his orgasm. When your vision returned to normal Sukuna was still lapping up your cum. Tongue dipping into you to pull it all out and venturing to your other hole on occasion. You tried to pull away as overstimulation seeped into your muscles, but he kept you in place. “Hold still baby, I need to show you how serious I am about keeping my word”, he said in between licks.

You whined a little in protest but he just smirked at you. His fingers rubbed where they held you in an offering of comfort as he continued to absolutely devour you. He alternated between greeting every crevice of your labia and clit with his tongue, to swirling his tongue around your ass and pointing his tongue inside. The sounds in your ears started to blend into a high-pitched ringing tone as your cheeks grew red with warmth. Your legs were visibly shaking on his shoulders and your hips bucked without order from your mind. Your orgasm began to creep up on you again, but you halted it by pulling Sukuna onto the bed and flipping him under you. His features contorted in confusion as he looked up at you, face glistening as your juices dripped down his chin.

“Fuck, Kitten. I thought I was the one cleaning you. Why did you make me switch? Don’t tell me you grew too hungry for the taste of my cocks that you couldn’t wait”, he said as he looked down at you. He had propped himself up on his elbows and stuffed your pillows behind your back so he could watch you. His hair stuck up all kinds of ways from where you played with it, his lids were heavy with lust, and his ever-darkening eyes peered through them to watch you.

“I just thought it was unfair to make you do all the work. You are my King, after all, it is only fitting I assist you however I can. And your poor pants looked like they were about to tear from all the strain”, you said as you rubbed him through the fabric. You could hear his breathing pattern become interrupted as your fingers traced the shapes. Your nail lightly raked over the bottom one, following the engorged muscle that protruded from the bottom side. A growl reverberated throughout his chest, followed by slightly profane praises for your work. You looked up at him as you slid your body along his crotch until your mouth found the string holding his pants up. You reached your tongue out for it, the tips grazing the lower part of his abs making them suck in. You felt him twitch against your chest as you gripped the hindrance with your teeth and pulled it undone. He watched in lust-clouded awe as you began you pull his pants back. Your mouth kissing, sucking, and licking at the newly found skin. Once you pulled back to the point his cocks were almost revealed you told him to lift his hips so you could get the rest of the way down. “Oh? I thought you said you were going to assist your King yet here you are barking orders to me”, he said while smirking.

You raised your eyebrows and tongued the inside of your cheek before letting out a small chuckle and ripping his pants off. His lips almost managed to form words, but yours found your way to his cocks before they could come to fruition. Tatters of his pants flew across the room as you laid yourself between his legs and started licking his bottom cock. Your tongue traced the outline of it over and over while your lips sucked on the tip. Heavy sighs and low groans reverberated through him as you continued your work. You turned your head and pulled in the underside of his cock and started moving your head up and down. Spit fell from the corners of your mouth as you looked up at him. (E/C) irises swirling with lust and untold plans as your lips peeked from both sides of his cock. After a few pumps like this, you pushed your mouth down onto his tip and filled your throat up. His cock completely cut off your air supply as you sank down deeper onto him. You used your hand to stroke the parts of the base you couldn’t fit and watched as he started to play with his other cock. He pushed it down slightly so that your face ran along it as you pleasured the other. You pulled away from him and used your energy to pull his hands above his head and pin them there.

You moved yourself up to eye level with him, cocks brushing against your dripping entrance and boobs draping against his chest. You licked along his jaw and neck, cleaning yourself off of him before moving back over his face. You playfully kitten-licked his lips before saying, “Keep your hands here or I stop what I am doing, okay?”

His head pushed up as he quickly took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting and pulling it back before releasing it to pop back to its original position. “Such a brave brat ordering me around like this. Does fear never visit you”, he asked while meeting your gaze. His eyes feral from the predicament of being tied to your bed while you so eagerly pleased him.

You dipped your head to his ear, kissing where it met his neck before pressing your lips to his earlobe. “Fear knows better than to show its face to a predator, don’t you know we feed off of that”, you asked before slowly pushing your body back down to where it was. A hearty laugh rocked his chest at your question. The fire in his eyes seemed to be stoked by what you said, their colors seemed to burn with fervor as they closely watched all of your movements. You lowered yourself back to your original position between his legs. Your hand slid his lower cock between the valley of your breasts as you began sucking on the top one. Hand pumping him up and down once it was covered in enough spit to allow your hand to freely roam.

His toned abs flexed when his tip fell victim to the suction in your mouth and he sucked the remainder of your cum off his lips as he watched his other cock fall between your tits. It slid so nicely, the spit it was once coated in now creating a shiny layer on your breasts. He watched as they jiggled as they crashed against his pelvis with each bob of your head and felt the way the friction made you moan against his cocks. The feeling of it shooting from your throat down the one inside your mouth, and the feeling of the vibrations coming from your chest spreading to the other one had him pushing his hips further into you. He watched as tears swelled in the corners of your eyes as you gagged around him, fresh spit slipping past your lips and pooling at the base of his cock. He waited for the repercussions of his actions but was never meant with any, so he continued pistoning his hips into your throat. Sounds of skin slapping skin and choked gags filled the room as he fucked your throat and tits. It was so fucking erotic. Never had he had someone take him like you did, never had he allowed someone to take control like he did with you. And fuck he was starting to think about how much he was missing it. This was almost as sexy as when you ate his finger. He thought back to that day, the way you both were covered in blood, the violence you endured from each other in search of your own releases. Those thoughts mixed with the present situation had his cock twitching in a pretense of his release.

You watched through blurry eyes as his features started to pull together, his eyes narrowed, his lips parted, his body restless. You opened your mouth fully to allow him full access to your throat as he chased his orgasm. As his rhythm began to falter, you picked it up and guided him into nirvana. He groaned your name as he buried himself fully in your throat and started cumming. It poured down your throat as the other one shot it all across your face and chest. You kept swallowing as it kept flowing into you, it started to feel like it would never end. After the last rope shot down your mouth you pulled off of his cock. You looked like a filthy whore as you stared at him through lashes covered in cum. Milky white stains covered your face, ropes slid off of your face to your already cum covered chest, some falling right back onto his cock. He watched as your fingers began to scrape it into your mouth, your peeking out to lick it off of your fingers. You dropped your mouth to let him see how it gathered on your tongue before swallowing it and coming back out clean.

“Fuck, why do you have to be so sexy baby”, he asked as he sat up, your magic dissipating from around his wrists allowing him to touch you.

“I want you inside me, Kuna. I’ve been wanting it. Been thinking about how full you made me feel last time. It’s been so long, I want you inside me again”, you started to whine as you crawled up onto his lap. Two of his hands found their places on his hips, while the other two cradled your head. He was all for fucking you senseless until you coudln’t bare to not have his cocks inside you, but he also knew you hadn’t eaten since early in the morning. And since some stupid part of him remembered and cared about that he told you no.

“Not right now, pretty girl. I came here to eat with you and what we have eaten so far, isn’t quite what your body needs,” he said while standing up with your legs still around him. You started to protest but he simply quietened you with a kiss. He walked into your bathroom to find the tub empty, as if forgetting it wasn’t like his. He looked down at you, “I am going to take us to my bath, okay? I promise it won’t be like last time. I just want to get you cleaned up before we eat.” You were genuinely caught off guard by how sweet he was being tonight. It almost made you feel like you were talking to an imposter.

“Why are you being so sweet to me?”

He looked as caught off guard as you when you asked that. He blinked at you a few times before looking away. “Honestly, I don’t know. Never have a felt the need to care for something like I do for you. Never have I felt guilty about hurting someone like I do when I think about how I killed you. I don’t understand it, but I also don’t hate it. You have at least proved yourself to be worth caring about, so…”, he trailed off. You reached up and caressed his face before kissing him. Maybe he really wouldn’t be a bad partner, maybe.

Taglist: @missroro @roxytheimmortal

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 51

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "I was so afraid… I thought I lost you."

Chapter Warnings: Angst, violence, gore, death

AO3

Spotify

You held him close as you trembled, more fragile than you’d felt since the breach began.

The control over your wild emotions was slipping, but then they were soothed by the hand that gently stroked down your back. You squeezed him tighter.

049 stiffened and made a soft noise of discomfort. The thought of him in pain was the only thing that reeled you in, the tangled web of nerves pushed aside in favor of focusing on him.

You pulled back to get a better look at him. His robes were tattered, as if aggressive moths had nibbled at the edges.

“You’re hurt.”

049 simply smiled with his eyes.

“You’re here.”

Your lips trembled; you couldn’t smile back without fear of the expression breaking.

“Course I am. I had to find you.”

It was… difficult to focus with him staring at you that way, drinking in the sight of you as if he hadn’t expected to see it again.

You wanted to reach out and pull him close again, but you didn’t.

“You’re avoiding the issue.” Your voice was stern, hiding the tremble you felt in your bones. You could fall apart later; right now, you had to find out just how injured he was.

049 released a small sigh and attempted to sit up, only succeeding with the addition of your help. He glanced down at himself, the ruin of his robes, but he was less concerned than you were.

Of course you were concerned, those damn robes were his skin, and he must have been in pain.

“An unfortunate result of being in the Old Man’s web,” 049 relented. “Also… he doesn’t particularly like me.”

You frowned, some of your earlier anger returning. It was fortunate for 106 that he’d closed the way to his dimension, or you would have been tempted to go back and make sure he could never hurt 049 again.

“You were able to extract the digital storage device from my bag,” he added, his gentle voice drawing you from your anger, like purging venom from a wound. His eyes were soft, warm, and God, you’d missed this so much. Missed him.

“I started the breach with 079’s help,” you said. “That’s what you planned, isn’t it?”

His gaze grew heavy and solemn.

“A breach would give you the best opportunity of escape.”

“You didn’t plan on escaping with me.”

“I did not expect to live long enough to try,” he said with a tilt of his head. “My survival was irrelevant to the plan.”

Your face scrunched, anger flickering back to life.

“It’s not irrelevant to me.”

His pale eyes went soft again, unbothered by your sharp words. And when he reached to touch your jaw, you froze, the anger snuffed out, or at least reduced to a simmer.

But 049’s expression wasn’t tender, it was focused. His thumb rubbed your jaw and then pulled back, examining his glove.

“Who did this?”

You looked at his hand but saw nothing against the black fabric.

“What?”

“The Pestilence.” He nearly hissed the word. “It lingers on your skin.”

You frowned.

“I must have gotten it while in there.”

“No… this is different.” He rubbed the spot on his thumb, his voice lowered into an unfriendly rumble. “This is the mask’s brand of corruption.”

Entirely outside of your own control, your face went hot.

“Ah, yeah.” You aimed for casual and landed on awkward. “I ran into 035.”

His gaze darkened so fast it was like a whipcrack.

“I’m okay,” you said in a rush, “079 helped me get away.”

“What… did he want with you?”

He spoke slowly, as if each word had to be chewed before being spit out. You didn’t envy 035 if they ever ran into each other again.

“The usual. Attention, and an opportunity to be a smug asshole.”

That wasn’t the whole of it, and 049 seemed to sense this, his expression unblinking as he waited for you to continue. Which, you did, your hands balled nervously in your lap.

“He was also certain there was a way to leave the facility. All the skybridges have been retracted, but he said there was a way out through the archival section. And that… you would know how to find it.”

That knocked some of the harsh edge out of 049’s steely expression.

“I do not know of any alternate egress from this facility. And I do not know why he believes I would.”

You relaxed a little, even if the news was disappointing. 035 had seemed so insistent on it, too.

And then you backtracked.

“Wait, alternate egress? Do you know of another exit?”

“Of course.” He looked at you askance. “The way we came in.”

The front door. He was talking about the front door.

“Who came up with this plan?” you asked as you rubbed your forehead.

“That would be the one you call SCP-079.”

Ah. Right. 079 had probably been so confident in his own ability to keep the skybridges down that he didn’t consider the possibility of anything else.

“Well, he’s not here, so we’re on our own, unfortunately,” you said. “I guess… we try to find the archival section and see if 035 wasn’t just making up shit. With 079 and 682 gone, I don’t know what else to do.”

049 cocked his head.

“The reptile is… here?”

The question came out so polite in its confusion you almost smiled.

“Yeah, he’s out. I freed him.”

049 only blinked, as if not quite sure what to do with this information.

“There’s so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start,” you said softly. “A lot has happened since they took you away.”

So much, and you didn’t have to hide anything anymore. Not from the cameras, not from 049 in fear of what Leahy would do to him. You realized, for the first time, you were truly alone together.

You moved without thought and knelt between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing close until there was no distance between you. You tried to be gentle, mindful of his damaged skin, but your need was too great to hold back.

He didn’t stiffen or pull away, only stilled for a moment before pulling you in, arms around your middle. You were on your knees while he sat on the floor, the only way you had height over him, and you pressed him to your chest, not caring of the edges of the beak against your collarbone.

“I found you,” you whispered into the hood of his robes. “I was so afraid… I thought I lost you.”

The fingers dipped against your skin were grounding and warm.

“I had thought death had come for me, after I had avoided its embrace for so long. I had… accepted my fate.”

“I didn’t.” And you never would.

He hummed a pleasant noise, and one hand traced up into your hair to gently touch the strands.

“We are not free of this place yet.”

His voice was quiet, as if afraid to break the fragile moment. But he was right, and you had to get moving. Staying in one place for too long was a guaranteed way to be caught by something violent and murderous.

But… perhaps one more moment wouldn’t hurt.

You pulled back just far enough to cup his head in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

The noise he made was strange, like a startled growl or a muffled purr, and a tremor moved him as your lips lingered on his skin. His hands had fallen to your waist, fingers tightening as if to pull you closer.

You ended the kiss but remained where you were, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You wanted to stay like this, just the two of you. No breach, no lethal lockdown, no stray SCPs or soldiers. Only you and him.

You reluctantly pulled away, giving one last stroke of your thumb over the place on his mask where his cheek would be. He seemed just as unwilling to part from you, his expression naked, something wistful in his grey eyes.

Perhaps once you escaped Site-20, you would have time to figure out what this was without the constant shadow of the Foundation. The problem was figuring out how to leave a facility that was built to be impenetrable. 049 wasn’t at his full strength, and you discovered another problem as you pulled away.

The shotgun slung across your back had corroded beyond recovery, the metal eaten through with black rust. The pistol and gun belt met the same fate, the unnatural rust marring the fabric and metal. The food you’d taken hadn’t fared any better, accelerated into a rotten state. It seemed that anything that hadn’t been in direct contact with your skin had been lost to the leeching hunger of 106’s lair.

You stripped off the useless pieces, thinking over this new obstacle. Without 079, finding another armory would be unlikely. You wondered if he’d betrayed you now that 682 was free.

Or… maybe betrayed wasn’t the right word. He would have considered your bargain fulfilled, whether or not you made it out alive, and would see no reason to wait for your return. From the perspective of a purely mechanical being, it made sense. Except you knew from how 079 felt about 682, he wasn’t entirely cold circuits and unfeeling logic.

So, for the time being, you would work under the assumption that 079 and 682 wouldn’t be coming back. Luckily, you knew where to get more weapons.

“I don’t know how to get out of here, but we need weapons,” you said, getting to your feet and brushing off your knees. “Can you walk?”

“I believe so.”

You reached out a hand, and 049 stared at it with mild confusion, until he understood and took it gently. He was heavy but had more strength than he’d had in the dark realm, and he stood on his own two feet without swaying. It was progress.

You led him from the medical bay, retracing the steps you’d taken with Leahy. You hadn’t really thought about the Site Director after getting 049 back, and your mind shied away from your last image of him. You didn’t need the distraction.

The halls remained just as empty, lit red with emergency lighting and the occasional smear of crimson on the white linoleum. It didn’t take long to reach your destination, and you stood on the threshold, shocked by the destruction. You didn’t remember it being this bad before, or… maybe it hadn’t seemed bad at the time.

049 loomed over your shoulder, taking in the room that had once been the Site Director’s office.

“What has befallen this place?”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead sorting through the blasted office furniture for what you sought, sifting through the carnage with fragile numbness. The bodies were distinguishable from the furniture by the glimpses of pale bone and the stench of cooked flesh. These were no longer people. They were pieces of burnt meat and charred bone.

You tried not to look at them, but it was hard to look at anything else.

“They were guarding Leahy,” you said, trying to keep your voice flat. Unaffected. “And I needed him to find you, so…”

The result was self-explanatory. Or so you thought, but 049’s silence said otherwise as he stared at you.

“I wore the jade ring. SCP-714 affects me… differently than it should.”

His grey eyes flicked around the room.

“I see.”

He offered nothing more, simply watched what you were doing. You picked up a P90 that seemed undamaged, but it caught on an arm, which might not have been a problem if it had been attached to a body. The limb untangled itself and fell to the floor with a sickly thud.

The gun slipped from your fingers and clattered to the sooty, blood-stained floor. You ran out the door, past 049, and dry heaved in the corridor. Nothing came out but drool, your mouth filled with acrid-tasting saliva, and you spit it out.

What was wrong with you? It hadn’t bothered you before, it had been easy. Uncomplicated. They’d been obstacles, and you’d removed them. If you could kill these men, you could damn well face the result.

It wasn’t as if they’d given you a choice. You’d needed Leahy, and now he was… was…

049 appeared at your side, and you straightened, wiping the spittle from your lips. He was carrying two P90s, and they should have looked odd in his hands, like a medieval knight with a smartphone. But it was strangely natural, and he looked strangely comfortable holding them.

He held one out to you, muzzle pointed away, stock first. You took it with unsteady hands, noting he kept the other. You wondered if he’d ever used a gun before, if he even knew how. With the way he gripped it, you had a feeling the answer was yes.

“You’re not accustomed to the dead.”

You gave a small shrug and looked at your gun, pretending you were interested in checking the ammunition clip.

“I’m not used to… causing death.”

“Good.”

You met his eye, his expression serious.

“One should not bear the executioner’s axe with a light step.”

You remained quiet, and he suddenly looked away.

“You… did not have to do this. Not for me. The price you paid may not have been worth the result.”

“It was worth everything.” Your mouth twisted into a scowl as you stepped closer. “I told you. I’m leaving with you or not at all.”

He spoke your first name, softly, and it was almost enough to make you weak. But you kept your expression hard and said, “We need to keep moving.”

You walked away from the Site Director’s office and refused to linger on what was left behind.

Without a concrete plan or much in the way of supplies, your only idea was to go with 035’s original plan, which unfortunately would lead you in the opposite direction of the skybridges. Worse, there were signs of recent activity. Scorch marks that still smoked, blood that still pooled from warm bodies.

The lights had also been restored in this sector, bright and clinical white, making your eyes ache after the dim red. It was harder to hide like this, and it was sheer luck that you both weren’t spotted when you came across a platoon of guards. They were too focused on taking down a twenty-foot-tall anomaly as it swung at them with giant hands, eyes covering its back red with fury.

049 pulled you down a side corridor, and you kept running, the staccato of gunfire and screams echoing the halls, chaos and death filling the sector. You both were blind without 079’s guidance.

The Epsilon-11 soldiers didn’t make a sound until you rounded the corner and froze. 049 couldn’t pull you back quickly enough this time.

You were hit hard in the middle like being slammed by a truck. Your legs went out, and you only remained upright because he hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you back out of the line of fire.

He set you down against the wall, leaning across your body and the corner to shoot back. You tried to raise your own P90, but your fingers were clumsy and slick. You looked down and found your smock coated in red.

The gunfire was deafening so close to your head, but 049 still heard your gasped words.

“No,” he said, so firmly it was almost a growl. He fired around the corner, his eyes ablaze with fury and an intent to slaughter. By the cries and falling bodies you heard between the bursts of fire, he seemed to be succeeding. But there were holes in his robes, blood oozing from the wounds at a slower rate than yours. Not bulletproof, after all.

“Please,” you rasped. “We have to.”

“Your body won’t survive the strain.” Another rapid burst of gunfire, lighting his mask in an ominous glaze. “The ring would kill you.”

I’m dying anyway, you didn’t say. And you were dying. All because you rushed that corner without checking first. You’d been so desperate to escape, and now you wouldn’t.

“You… need to go.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, hunched over you like a warding stature, all fire and brimstone. But he still bled, wounds dripping onto your smock to mix with your own, and you noted it was the same. Red blood.

You thought it would hurt more. Your abdomen was torn, littered with holes, but beyond the initial impacts, you didn’t feel much. You didn’t need one of the Foundation surgeons to tell you that wasn’t a good sign.

“Valens,” you tried again. Begged. “Go.”

“No.” Now he did snarl. “Do not ask this of me.”

He wasn’t going to leave. Everything you’d done, everything you both suffered, it would be for nothing.

You looked away, hope draining out of you just as quickly as your blood. And then you caught sight of them. Two circular anomalies peeking through the door you’d just come through. One orange, the other yellow, they jostled each other to get a better look at you with their singular eyes.

SCP-131-A and SCP-131-B. What were the Eye Pods doing here?

They didn’t come into the corridor, clearly terrified of the gunfire as they trembled, rolling back and forth in nervous oscillation. You could even hear the small noises they made, like scared puppies wanting to be comforted during a thunderstorm.

And then you heard another sound. Scrapping, rolling stone, grating against something hard like…

Concrete?

The Eye Pods—they didn’t want your protection. They were warning you.

“The… lights.”

049 ignored you, too focused on the enemy, his eyes narrowed and furious.

“049! The lights!”

He glanced at you questioningly, and his eyes went a little wide as you raised the P90 clumsily in your left hand and fired past him into the ceiling.

Your shots went wide but some of them hit their mark, exploding the fluorescent bulbs overhead in a bright spray of angry sparks.

049 might not understand your reasons, but he didn’t hesitate to follow your actions as he leaned around the corner and fired upward into the squares of light. He took another hit, and another, before you gripped him by the sleeve and pulled him back with the last of your strength.

You didn’t destroy all the lights, some of them remained, but they were damaged, and the corridor flickered with sporadic flashes.

The gunfire paused. And then the screaming started, bullets flying, but not in your direction. The sound of snapping bones punctuated the screams and gunshots, until finally, it was silent.

There was nothing in front of you, 049 sitting next to you as he leaned against the wall, panting and gripping his rifle.

And then, with the next flicker, it appeared in front of you, inches away. Its harmless-looking stubby arms reached out, its painted face strange and unseeing, and yet, its focus solely on you.

The overhead lights flickered again, casting you into brief darkness, and still 173 remained in place.

“How?” Your voice was faint. It was getting harder to draw breath.

“I can see in darkness,” 049 said grimly. “I will watch as long as I can. Blinking is not a necessity.”

The Eye Pods had vanished. If they were here, they could keep 173 in place, but they weren’t, and 049 needed to get somewhere safe.

There was… one thing you could do. One last act for him.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. You weren’t speaking only to 049. “It’s okay.”

You reached out and touched 173 on its stomach. The stone should have felt cold and lifeless, but it was warm, and hatred thrummed under your palm. It was a vibrant, visceral loathing that ran deep, a part of its nature as much as its limbs and painted face.

Its very existence was hatred, born out of a cruel origin it hadn’t chosen, forced into a box where its captors always watched. It hated the staring. The only relief it felt was when it could punish, and the captors couldn’t stare anymore.

All it wanted to do was kill, it had nearly killed you once, and all you felt for it was sadness.

You closed your eyes. You were so tired, your body sluggish as your thoughts wanted to do the same, but you concentrated. Focused on the thing inside of 173 that didn’t belong. The gaping wound that shouldn’t exist, that drove the anomaly to seek pain and death as a balm. And you began to close it.

The hatred dimmed, gradually, like a dying light, one that hurt to look at and would burn everything to ash if it could. But there was something still beautiful about it, and when it was extinguished, you felt its loss. This wasn’t like the black hole, or the suffering, time-dilated patient.

173 had been made of stone, but it was alive.

Had… been alive.

You opened your eyes. 049 was close, his mask inches away as he stared down at you, something rare and novel in his eyes. Fear.

At first, you thought it was fear of what you’d done. But then you realized his hand was pressed to your stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood. His other arm went around your back, and you barely registered the shift in gravity as he lifted you from the ground.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, looking past his shoulder to the SCP that stood there, unmoving. It would never move again, now just a strange piece of art in the flickering light.

The image of the lifeless statue vanished as you closed your eyes, and the world went still.

Next Chapter

[thejujvtsupost]

My Clothes Look Good On You

I’m getting back into the swing of writing, so it’s probably not my best work but it’s a start. Smut starts next part.

Lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist 💗

Notes: F!reader, Pro boxer!Toji, light age gap (Toji is early 30's and reader is mid 20's), pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart), reader is smaller than Toji, getting together, reader is a medic/nurse, light violence (boxing injuries)- the usual series notes.

The texts started not even a day after you met Toji.

Usually stuff like ‘You should come to the gym tomorrow, I can show you a few things.’ And ‘You working for my next match? It’d be nice to have a good luck charm.’

You weren’t expecting anything like this from him, you thought giving him your number was for medical advice or something professional. So his flirting and interest in you was a surprise- one that had you blushing, but you didn’t think he was too serious about it.

And to Toji’s credit, he was nothing but sweet and respectful. It didn’t matter how busy his typically packed schedule was, he was always checking on you, trying to learn more about your life.

“Why don’t you come by the gym after your shift? We could get somethin’ to eat.”

‘I can’t 😕 I’m stuck filling out applications. Maybe another day?’

The reminder of your unemployment stressed you out further. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know you lost your main job after the match. You told him a lot about the work you did with Shoko, but the few hours you had at the clinic weren’t enough to sustain you and everything was going wrong. Your savings were drying up.

‘Whatcha applyin for?’

‘The usual. I’m running late but I’ll talk to you later!’

You didn’t give any specifics, it was embarrassing enough that you got fired. You managed to get an interview at a different hospital, a welcomed change from the countless application denials.

Honestly, fuck Mother Nature.

The interview didn’t go well at all. You had thought there was hope with this job, but at the end of the interview the boss outright told you that they would be going a different direction. You left quickly after that.

Asshole.

The rejection stung. To add insult to injury, it was absolutely pouring rain. Of course you weren’t prepared, too focused on the interview and your clothes were getting more soaked by the minute.

“Fuck!” Your phone was dead, your wallet at home, failing to notice the essentials were missing while worrying about what questions you might be asked was your own fault. You should have paid better attention.

You took an Uber there, so your only option was to walk home, already out of the way of the train station. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad…

The rain was a bitter cold, and your entire body trembled with the pain of the wind whipping against your shaking form not twenty minutes into your trek. The world swallowing you whole would be a blessing.

Or, maybe the real blessing was the gym you recognized up ahead. For the first time in a while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

It would be warm in there, and maybe you could borrow a phone to call a cab. You doubted Toji would still be there, but surely someone was still working out, right? It was worth a shot.

Increasing your pace until the door was at your fingertips, and pulling it open- it was unlocked. You could cry. It was warm, and most of all, dry.

You peeked your head into the main room and saw a few people doing their thing, until your eyes landed on Suguru.

He saw you out of the corner of his eye and smiled, about to welcome you in (under the assumption Toji had invited you) until he saw the state you were in. Shivering, wet and probably bound to get sick.

“What the hell? Don’t tell me you walked here, you should’ve rescheduled or something.” He pulled a few towels out from a large cabinet full of them and offered them to you. “Toji’s not worth getting rained on.”

“Toji’s not what now?” The sight of Toji with his bag on his shoulder to go home made you smile a little through the chatter of your teeth. “Woah what the hell?”

“That’s literally what I said, I can’t believe you didn’t at least send someone to pick her up before you dragged her out like a needy bastard.”

Toji ignored him and took a towel to help get some of the water out of your hair, it was a welcomed gesture. “‘Thought you were workin’ sweetheart, don’t tell me you quit your job to come see me, it’ll go to my head. What were you doing in the rain like that? You’re soaked.”

You knew he was teasing you lightheartedly, but the mention of your job had you nearly tearing up with the stress. “About that…”

Suguru took that as a cue to leave you guys alone, “C’mere, you’re gonna get sick.” A much larger hand took yours and led you to the locker room. “I have some clean clothes in my locker and you can change in the bathroom.”

“Oh I couldn’t-” the protests started as soon as he pressed shorts and a shirt over to you.

“Yes you can, I’ll get a bag for your wet clothes.”

Truly, you were freezing, you hadn’t stopped shivering and you probably wouldn’t any time soon. You sighed in resignation and changed in the aforementioned bathroom, cringing at how huge his clothes were (but enjoying the scent secretly.)

Toji was waiting with a spare jacket you slipped on right away and a plastic bag for your wet clothes, but when he saw you dwarfed by his he laughed. “Holy shit, you’re s’cute. C’mon, you look like you need cheered up. I’ll take you to mine and order takeout. Sound good? Then maybe you can tell me what’s got you down too.”

And you probably shouldn’t go with a man that you hadn’t known for too long, but you were hungry and wearing his clothes and tired, and maybe a little weak to his smile-

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” You tried to look grateful, but you couldn’t muster too much emotion other than sad.

Once again a large hand took yours and this time led you to his car in the parking garage.

He waited until you were full and warm with your phone on the charger and the tv low in the background before he started asking questions.

Well, more like he was looking at you with concern and you cracked. “I got fired.”

“What? Today? What happened?” The way he sounded ticked off on your behalf made you feel even warmer. Seriously, you can’t be giving in to his charms, but… he was sweet with you and considerate…

“Three weeks ago… after the fight I ran into my boss. I was wearing clothes with the logo of the clinic I work at with Shoko and moonlighting is against the rules but it’s hard with what I was making at my day job. I needed the money from working a second one and I got caught and the stress is so much to handle I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I can’t find someone hiring!” It all came out of you like word vomit and (more than) a few tears of frustration followed.

“Aw sweets, you should’ve told me you were looking for a job, I could’ve helped. Working that many hours isn’t good for you. But they were dead wrong t’fire you like that.” He wiped your tears and his other hand rubbed yours soothingly and it was nice to be touched gently after several weeks of constant stress.

You sniffled and took in a breath, getting that off your back helped more than you thought it would, Toji’s hulking, kind presence was a balm to a wound. “It’s been a lot to handle, I thought today’s interview was going really well until they rejected me at the end. Didn’t even wait to send me a half assed email, just told me outright. I thought they liked me for the job I don’t know what I said wrong.”

“I don’t know sweetheart, they’re crazy not to hire you. Maybe they were scared of how good your resume looked.” His joke made you let out a giggle and a sigh.

“Thanks for cheering me up, and sorry if you had other plans. It’s Friday night and you’re stuck with me crying on you.”

Toji’s brows furrowed, “Who said I was stuck? The only plan I had was text you enough to bother you and get takeout.”

It was your turn for your brows to furrow “It’s literally Friday night, you weren’t going out?”

Suddenly the floor was super interesting to Toji and he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand before looking at you again.

“I thought I was being pretty obvious about it, but I’m not interested in going out unless it’s what you. ‘Don’t want to rush ya, but I’m kinda trying to win you over here. Y’know? Woo ya, that’s what the kids call it these days I think.” His cheeks were flushed red and it was endearing.

“Woo me, huh? You’re sweet, you know that?” You really didn’t think he was serious before, and now he truly had your heart fluttering.

“So… is it working so far?”

You leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips, chaste but sweet. “What do you think?”

Toji pulled you in for another kiss, unable to let you go so soon. “Can I take ya on a date?” He pulled away panting.

“I think I can pencil you in.”

That night you slept better than you had in ages. Toji’s bed was comfortable and he was warm, holding you all night. You woke up before him to pee and crawled back in bed, you shouldn’t be acting so boldly, you weren’t even technically together yet. But Toji made it hard to not want to be around him. No one had treated you so sweetly in years.

“Wow, leavin’ me all alone like that. Cruel.” Toji was awake when you came back, evidently.

“My clothes are probably done in the dryer, I should get out of your hair.”

Strong polar bear arms wrapped around you tight, “Nah.”

Your lip lifted in amusement. “Nah?”

“Nah. It’s only four, go back to sleep. Gotta eat breakfast first later anyway. And I was gonna invite ya t’the gym with me, got something to show ya. If you want, at least.” He finally peeked an eye open to check your reaction, not wanting to seem too clingy or pushy.

The way he sounded content to keep you (while not making you feel held hostage) made your heart feel warm and gooey.

“If you’re sure… I don’t wanna interrupt your day.” By now your protest was only half hearted. How could you not want to stay with him?

Toji adjusted the blankets and his arms tightened, slowly pulling you closer to cuddle in case you wanted to pull away from him for personal space. “So sweet. You are my day.” He kissed the top of your head to reassure you that you weren’t a burden.

Unsure what to say to that, you rested your head over his heart and tangled your legs with his— and you think, Is this what people mean when they talk about butterflies in their stomach?

Prev <- Series index -> next

🏷️: @pelicanpizza @tadabzzzbee

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, past Amber freeman x Fem reader, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3,5

A/n: The next three chapters won’t follow the original storyline of the movies, because I wanted to write something outside of it, but after that we get to Scream 6. If you just want to read Scream 6 storyline, skip to part 12. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

"I can't believe we just graduated!" Iris exclaimed, her voice bubbling with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration. She was practically bouncing on her heels, now that they changed into normal clothes and not the ones from the ceremony.

Mindy rolled her eyes, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "I'm mostly surprised by the fact they let YOU graduate," Iris scoffed, her tone dripping with indignation. "You're dumb as fuck"

"Fuck you Mindy, I hope you die". Iris added with a glare, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can ask your next girlfriend, who knows maybe you have a type". The moment the words tumbled out of her mouth, Iris's eyes widened, and before Mindy could react, Iris lunged at her. In an instant, she was on Mindy's back, trying to wrestle her to the ground in a flurry of insults and playful shoving.

Just then, Chad and Tara strolled by, drawn in by the chaotic situation. They paused, exchanging amused glances as they took in the scene.

"What's going on?" Tara asked, a bemused smile creeping across her face.

"Mindy is being a fucking asshole".

"So a normal day then". Chad quipped, a teasing glint in his eyes. He leaned against a nearby railing, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show, all while ignoring the middle finger his sister threw at him. "We were going to ask you both to come and get pizza with us and Sam, but if you guys are busy..."

At that, Mindy and Iris exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew that pizza was far more enticing than their bickering.

"Yeah, okay, we can go," Mindy said with a grin, finally managing to shake Iris off her back. They began walking toward the parking lot, the sun shining down on them, casting a warm glow over the scene.

As they walked along, Chad chuckled, shaking his head. "They are so fucking weird," he remarked, gesturing at the duo who were now playfully jostling each other again, their laughter ringing out in the air.

They reached their favorite restaurant, a cozy little spot adorned with twinkling fairy lights and the aroma of freshly baked pizza wafting through the air. As they stepped inside, they spotted Sam already settled into a booth. Iris had just finished a call with her mother, reassuring her not to wait up. Ever since the attacks four months ago, her mom had insisted on knowing Iris's whereabouts at all times, and honestly she couldn't really blame her for it. They had all been lucky, and that knowledge weighed heavily on her heart.

Chad and Mindy slid into the booth beside Sam, while Iris and Tara took their seats across from them. The familiar chatter of the restaurant buzzed around them, a comforting backdrop to the occasion. Once they placed their orders, a wave of excitement and nervousness surged among them.

"So first of all, congratulations, guys! I'm so proud of you all," Sam declared, raising her glass high in celebration. The others quickly followed suit, their glasses clinking together with a satisfying sound.

"We did it! Not even fucking Ghostface could have stopped us from graduating!" Chad beamed, his smile warm and genuine as he took a sip of his drink.

"Honestly, I'm shocked we did it, but I'm really happy," Tara added, her voice laced with disbelief and joy.

Iris's smile faltered for a moment, her heart heavy as she thought of those who should have been there with them. "Yeah, can't help but think Wes and Liv should be here too," she sighed, the weight of her words casting a shadow over the table. A heavy silence enveloped them, each person acutely aware of the absence of their friends. They knew who else was missing in the celebration but no one wanted to say her name, especially not Iris; the ache of the betrayal was still too fresh.

"For Liv and Wes," Chad finally broke the silence, raising his drink again, his tone solemn. "This is for you guys."

"Wherever they are, I hope they're proud too," Iris muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt Tara's hand squeeze hers softly, a comforting gesture that warmed her heart amidst the sorrow.

After a few moments of silence, Mindy shifted the conversation. "So, what are we doing next?" she asked, her voice lightening the mood. "We all got into Blackmore University, so we're definitely seeing each other's faces"

"Unfortunately, I still have to see yours," Iris shot back, unable to resist a teasing grin.

"My face card is amazing, Iris; you should be thankful I let you see it". Mindy retorted with a mock-seriousness that drew laughter from the group.

"I'm excited to finally leave this fucking town". Sam chimed in, her enthusiasm infectious. "We just need to find somewhere to live".

As they chatted about their plans, with Chad and Mindy dreaming of living independently and Sam and Tara discussing the kind of apartment they wanted, Iris sat in contemplative silence. The idea of living alone filled her with dread, yet she wasn't sure she could trust a random roommate either. The conversation swirled around her, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

After their meal, they decided to head to The Carpenter's house for a movie night. As Sam, Chad, and Mindy led the way, Tara slowed her pace, matching her steps to Iris's.

"What's on your mind?" Tara asked gently, her tone inviting Iris to open up.

"What do you mean?" Iris replied, trying to feign ignorance.

"You've been really quiet during dinner, and no offense, Ris, but you usually talk way too much for your own good."

"Okay, rude," Iris joked half-heartedly, but Tara didn't let it slide.

"C'mon, what happened?"

With a deep sigh, Iris turned her gaze to the floor, the weight of her worries pressing down on her. "I guess I'm just worried."

"About what?"

"Our life in New York," she admitted, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "I don't know how I'm going to find a place for myself."

"Why would you find a place for yourself alone?" Tara asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because I have to live somewhere?" Iris replied, a hint of confusion creeping into her voice.

"I thought you were going to live with me and Sam."

"Wait, really?" Iris's heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, we always included you in our plans," Tara said softly, her voice comforting. "I know you hate the idea of living alone, and you're just as paranoid as Sam, so obviously you're not going to live with someone you don't know on your own."

"I hate that you know me," Iris said, smiling at Tara while the shorter girl shrugged nonchalantly. “Are you sure you guys don't mind living with me?" her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Why would we?"

"Well... I mean," Iris stuttered, the hesitation lingering between them. Tara raised her eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. "We are rebuilding our friendship after everything. I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Tara studied Iris for a moment, her gaze unwavering. "I would never be uncomfortable with you, Ris," she said, her voice softening. "Also, we can use this as a way to continue building our friendship again."

"Yeah, I would like that," Iris said, nudging Tara playfully, relief flooding her.

"Me too," Tara replied, a smile breaking across her face.

A whole month of packing, and endless preparations had led to this moment. It was time for Iris to leave for New York, a city that felt both thrilling and terrifying. As she stood in the driveway, she was pretty sure her mom had no tears left to cry. The goodbye was heavy, filled with unspoken fears and hopes.

"Iris, promise me you'll call every day," her mother insisted, her voice shaky. The grip on her daughter's hand was firm, desperate to hold into her for a little bit longer.

Iris nodded, her throat tight. "I promise." And as the tears spilled over, she was grateful that Mindy wasn't around to make fun of her for crying.

Mindy and Chad were already on their way with their mom, the excitement in their voices echoing in Iris's mind, while Sam was handling the logistics of moving all of her and her sister's things. That left Tara, who would be traveling with Iris, the one who had volunteered to drive.

When Tara arrived with her bags, the moment felt bittersweet. Rachel, Iris's mom, saw her and immediately burst into tears again, wrapping Tara in a tight embrace. "I can't believe you both are moving," she sobbed, holding them as if she could freeze time. "Remember when you two would come in here and help me make cookies?"

Tara smiled, her eyes shining with memories. "Those were amazing cookies, Rachel. The best." She could almost taste the warm chocolate chip dough and feel the laughter that filled the kitchen, a reminder of simpler times.

"You're both so grown up," Rachel said, pulling them into another hug, her voice muffled against their shoulders.

"God, Mom, you're gonna scare Tara with all your tears," Iris teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't be mean, dear. I'm just emotional and old—leave me alone," Rachel retorted, a playful smile breaking through her tears. They truly were mother and daughter with the same sense of humor.

Tara laughed wholeheartedly, a sound that warmed the air around them. She adored the relationship Iris had with her mom, a bond filled with warmth and understanding. In fact, she felt a pang of longing for that kind of connection with her own mother, who had always seemed distant. Rachel had always treated Tara like one of her own, and she found herself getting more emotional saying goodbye to Rachel than to her own mother.

With one last hug, Tara moved to grab Iris's belongings. "Oh, Tara, you don't have to do that," Iris protested, reaching out.

"Say goodbye to your mom," Tara said gently, resting a hand on Iris's arm, her touch comforting. "I'll put this in the car." With that, she walked away, leaving Iris alone with her mother.

"I'm really glad you guys are friends again," Rachel said, her smile warm and knowing.

"Me too, I missed her," Iris admitted, her heart aching with a mix of happiness and guilt.

Rachel's gaze softened, filled with understanding. "She is good for you. Always has been."

Iris stared at her, momentarily confused by the implication. Before she could ask what her mom meant by that, Rachel pulled her into one last embrace. "Come on, don't leave her waiting. Call me when you guys arrive, okay, dear?"

"Okay, Mom. I love you," Iris said, squeezing her tightly, savoring the warmth of her mother's embrace.

"I love you more," Rachel replied, her voice breaking as she pulled away, wiping her cheeks but unable to hide the glistening in her eyes.

As Iris watched her mother step back, a sense of finality settled over her. She turned to find Tara waiting by the car, her face lit up with excitement. Taking a deep breath, Iris approached Tara, who was adjusting the last of the bags in the trunk. "Thanks for being here," Iris said, her voice steady but her heart still racing.

Tara looked up and smiled, her expression softening. "Always. Imagine how bored you would be without me."

"Let's go and start living our life"

Iris nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of hope and nostalgia. As they climbed into the car, the engine roared to life, and with one last glance at her childhood home, Iris felt the rush of excitement wash over her.

The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink as Iris and Tara navigated the never-ending roadway. They had been on the road for hours, their excitement for the move to New York palpable, but the sea of red brake lights ahead could only mean they would be stuck for a couple of hours.

"Of course there's traffic" Tara sighed, tapping her fingers on the dashboard to the rhythm of the Taylor Swift song playing softly in the background. "We should've left earlier."

Iris glanced at her, a grin creeping across her face. "Maybe but we wouldn't have this quality time together." Tara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. They had spent the past month planning this move and the thought of finally being in the city was exhilarating. When they were younger, she recalled, they used to speak about moving to New York together after high school so they could go to the same college. Tara believed the dream was over two years ago, but now she couldn't believe it was actually happening. Gazing at Iris, she couldn't resist the smile that spread across her face.

Iris feeling the stare, turned to her friend with a smirk of her own. "Why are you staring at me you creep?"

"I can't believe you just called me a creep"

"Then don't act like one" Tara softly punched her in the arm while Iris pretended that it hurt her.

"I'm just happy"

"About what? It can't possibly be the traffic" Iris joked though they both knew what Tara meant.

"About us going to New York...together" Iris stared into Tara's eyes. "With the rest of course, but I just... I guess I never thought we would get here after everything".

"I will never not feel guilty about that" Iris stared down at the steering wheel in shame before Tara grabbed her hand and squeezed it in order to give her comfort.

"Don't, it wasn't your fault" Tara truly didn't blame her. "Don't get depressed, we still have like five hours in this car, if you cry I'm going to kill myself"

"Not guilty anymore, fuck you" They both laughed.

After a few moments, Tara received a message from Sam saying she was already at their new apartment while Chad and Mindy were close behind. It seemed as if they were the only two left with a long way to go, trapped in the confines of the car as the city loomed ahead like a distant dream.

"So what can we do in New York?" Iris asked, glancing out at the blurred skyline that gradually sharpened into focus. "Aside from visiting all the obvious places."

Tara's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We can watch a lot of movies." There was a spark in her eyes; she had always loved movies and her major in film studies reflected her passion. It was her escape, a world of imagination where anything was possible. But for Iris, who was knee-deep in her psychology studies, movies were just a distraction—something she'd never quite understood.

"When you say movies, I hope you don't mean horror movies," Iris said, a frown creeping onto her face. The very thought made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Tara and Mindy's casual enjoyment of the genre baffled her, especially after everything that had happened five months ago.

"Well..." Tara began, a playful glint in her eye.

"How can you like them so much? I'll never understand." Iris shook her head, exasperated.

"Horror movies are great for several reasons, Iris." Tara's tone shifted to that of a passionate lecturer, and Iris groaned in annoyance for the impending explanation. "First, they provide this incredible adrenaline rush from jump scares and tense moments. It's an addictive experience, really, embracing the unknown. Second, they explore deep themes, like the human psyche, societal fears, and moral dilemmas. And third," she continued, her excitement bubbling over, "it's just really fun to watch them with friends"

"I literally do not care about anything that you just said"

"You cared enough to listen until the end" Tara smiled cheekily at her, she knew Iris was just being annoying on purpose.

"Whatever" Iris muttered, crossing her arms. "Weirdo"

"Hater," Tara shot back, pointing a finger at her in exaggerated mock anger. "We can watch Hereditary, The Witch, It Follows, The Conjuring..."

"The only one I know is The Conjuring" Iris interrupted, her voice tinged with reluctance.

"Really? You watched it?" Tara asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah, I watched it with Am..." Iris's voice trailed off, the name hanging heavily in the air. Just saying it conjured a wave of memories she wasn't ready to face. Amber. She had watched it with Amber.

"You know you can say her name, right?" Tara's gaze softened, her expression tinged with concern and pity. Iris hated that look. It felt like a reminder of everything she wanted to forget.

"She doesn't deserve to be named," Iris snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

"She doesn't, but how else can you move on?" Tara's voice was gentle but firm.

"I have moved on," Iris insisted, though her heart felt heavy with doubt.

"No, you haven't, and that's okay. No one has, honestly." Tara sighed, her eyes drifting toward the city lights as they flickered to life against the dusk. "I have nightmares most nights, and every time I hear a phone ringing, I can't help but startle."

Iris looked away, her throat tightening. She remembered the echoes of shouting, the blood spilling everywhere, the sound of a bullet being fired and the sudden quiet that had followed the tragic events of that night. They had all been so trusting and naïve. Now, the shadows of the past loomed large, and the memories they had with the people they once loved had been tinged with anger and loss.

"It's just... I want to enjoy things again without thinking about her," Iris finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.  "It's like she's everywhere".

Tara reached over and squeezed her hand, a silent acknowledgment of the pain they both carried. "I get it, Iris. But sometimes, facing those fears in whatever way we can think of can help us heal, even when it feels impossible."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Tara's words sinking in. The traffic continued to crawl, but in that moment, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the bond they shared, their unspoken understanding of grief, loss, and the faint glimmer of hope that one day, they might truly move forward.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you". Iris said, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with sincerity.

Tara looked away, feeling the weight of her trauma press heavily on her chest. "It also happened to you. Don't be sorry for something you had no control over." Her tone was firm, but the quiver in her voice betrayed the strength she was trying to show.

"She hurt you because of me," Iris insisted, the guilt etched across her face like a permanent shadow.

"She would've hurt me either way, Iris," Tara replied, her heart aching at the thought of what her "best friend" wanted to do to her. They both knew that she was right but Iris couldn't help but feel like without even knowing she pushed Amber to insanity.

A few moments of silence passed, and the tension between them hung in the air. Iris felt a crack in her armor and let herself be vulnerable. "I don't know how to move on," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I ever will."

Tara squeezed her hand tightly, rubbing small circles on it with her thumb, grounding them both in the moment. "You won't forget what happened but you will move on. It will take time, but we all will." There was a warmth in Tara's eyes, a flicker of hope that Iris longed to believe.

"How can you be so sure?" Iris asked, searching her friend's gaze for answers.

"Because if we don't, then they win." Tara's voice was steady, filled with fierce determination. She locked eyes with Iris, a fire igniting between them. "And I'm not gonna let them win. I'm not gonna let them ruin me."

Iris felt her heart swell at Tara's words. "You amaze me," she said softly, a smile breaking through her sorrow.

Tara blushed, ducking her head, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pride. After a moment, she looked back up, her eyes shining. "Surprisingly enough, I'm following Mindy's advice."

"Mindy's advice? Oh, we are so fucked," Iris joked, a laugh escaping her despite the heaviness in her heart.

"I know, right? Insane," Tara replied, her laughter mingling with Iris's, creating a brief moment of levity in the darkness. But then Tara's expression shifted, becoming serious. "But she did tell me something that really resonated with me."

"What's that?".

"The first step to let go of that day is to let go of the anger," Tara said, her voice steady.

Iris pondered this, frowning. "How do you let go of the anger?"

Tara took a deep breath, her gaze distant for a moment as she searched for the right words. "By acknowledging what they did. By saying their names. If we ignore it, if we don't say their names, then we are still living in that day, and I refuse it."

"I refuse it too," Iris echoed, her voice firmer now.

As they sat in the car, the city lights flickering to life outside, Tara gently brushed a stray hair from Iris's face, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent a flutter through Iris's chest, a mix of warmth and something deeper that she dared not name.

Tara's hand remained intertwined with Iris's, and as they shared a look filled with understanding, Iris couldn't help but notice the way Tara's eyes sparkled.

"You're stronger than you realize." Tara said softly, her thumb tracing the back of Iris's hand.

Iris felt her heart race, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Maybe I could just follow your example". she admitted, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. "What's the first step to let go then?".

"Well, I started by saying, Richie and Amber, the fuckers that tried to kill us." Tara's voice trembled slightly, but as she spoke the names aloud, a surprising softness washed over the moment. Iris let out a soft laugh, and it immediately made Tara smile.

"Richie and... Amber, the fuckers that tried to kill us," Iris echoed, her tone teasing yet light, as if saying their names had somehow lifted a weight.

"You see? First step." Tara beamed, her heart swelling with the shared act of acknowledgment.

"When did you get so wise?" Iris asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

"When I realized that someone had to be the smart one in the group," Tara replied, her grin widening.

"Oh, fuck you," Iris shot back, laughter bubbling up between them, brightening the somber air like the city lights emerging against the night sky.

"We are still not watching The Babadook" Iris declared once the conversation shifted, shaking her head firmly, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her playful intent.

"Oh, come onnnn," Tara whined, pouting dramatically as she leaned into Iris's shoulder, her warmth radiating against the taller girl's side. It was moments like this, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, that made the heaviness of their shared past feel a little lighter.

As the drive continued, the atmosphere shifted; it was filled with laughter and banter. They talked about everything from silly childhood memories to their expectations in their new life in New York.

And if Tara and Iris held hands during most of the trip, well, no one had to know about it.

[vezpr]

corporal: ch 3 - denial

.・。.・゜⛧・.・⛧・゜・。..・。.・゜⛧・.・⛧・゜・。.

SUKUNAxF!READER ☽☾ HEIAN ERA AU ☽☾ ONGOING SERIES ☽☾ AO3

☽☾𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:CH1: PUNISHMENT ▪︎ CH2: EXPECTATIONS ▪︎ CH3: DENIAL

☽☾ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You are such a menace that your father decides to offer your eternal servitude as a gift to the King of Curses.

Sukuna has not accepted such a tribute in years, more often opting to eat the young girls rather than put them to work, which is perfectly acceptable as far as your asshole dad is concerned.

Will the demon make an exception for you?

☽☾ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+MINORS DNI, blood and gore, violence, abuse, true form sukuna, extra mouths and arms and dicks, eventual smut, references to cannibalism, angst, masturbation, size difference, pining, denial of feelings, I suck at tags

☽☾ 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sodapop182 ; @moonchhu ; @coldluminarykoala ; @paradisestarfishh ; @maellem ; @vitoshi ; @watashiwasohidesu ;

☽☾ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: CH: 4.1k TOTAL: 11.8k

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment something to that effect. But please put an age in your bio so i don't have to block you. Thanks for reading. & if you reblog, comment, follow, give kudos I appreciate you sm! Thanks!🖤

"What do you want?"

You.

Sukuna wonders if you realize how little good it did you to cover yourself in the white servants kimono before you hauled your little body out of the water. The way the fabric clings to your curves, the shadows of your nipples, the  'v' of your sex, the cleft of your ass, all shadowed darkly against the nearly transparent fabric. His heart stutters at the sight. In a way, it's almost better than if you were naked. Almost. 

Then you lift the sodden hem pointlessly to slip your creamy calves into the water. Your face pressed fearlessly, stupidly close to his. Close enough to sink his teeth into. The image of you screaming, skin flecked with drops of his blood that morning in the woods swims to the surface of his mind. Reckless, rageful, radiant. He would like you to scream for another reason. 

What do you want?

"You. I fucking want you," he rasps.

His hand spreading this fabric of your robes. His palm flat against your bare and heaving chest, his hand nearly spanning the width of your shoulders. He pushes you back to lie pliant and pressed between his warm skin and the cool stone. He buries his face in your cunt, hands everywhere, hard just from the taste of you. 

"Oh fuck," he grits out, stuttering consonants and drawing out the vowels as he strokes himself to completion. He presses his cheek against the futon and exhales raggedly while his cocks still twitch in his hand. He squeezes his eyes shut, already willing his brain to forget that shameful reverie, wishing he could swallow back the syllables he just uttered to the empty room. 

You.

I fucking want you. 

"Tch." 

Maybe I should've kept at least one of the whores alive, he muses, mouth pressed into a grim line. 

But they weren't like you. They were dutiful, needy, false, frightened or a combination thereof. Spines good for nothing but lying on. Barely a backbone among them. 

Boring.

Good for little but eating, and gamey, even then. Fear tainting the taste of their flesh. Even the one who had run offered only a very brief diversion before collapsing and begging shrilly for her worthless life. 

He hauls himself up and pulls his hakama over his hips. He wipes away the mess on his belly with his kimono and tossing it aside before falling back onto the cushions, his back thudding against the wall.

And then there was your potential. You were ignorant to it, that was clear. Couldn't exactly blame your cunt of a father for that, as much trouble as you caused him without it. 

"What will I do with you?" He wonders aloud, but before he can think any more on it, there is a loud knock at the door. His brows furrow.

Who the fuck could that be?

Oh. He smirks. 

"What do you want?"

...

"What do you want?" You had said, leaning over the steaming water. Rage overriding any minute sense of self preservation you might have left. You thrust your haughty chin right into his smug, tattooed face. 

Although, the darkness that settles into his eyes has your heart galloping. True to your defiant nature, you stand your ground, despite the potentially deadly consequences.  For several agonizing moments, the two of you stare at each other in silence.  You swear you can see the gears turning behind his eyes, formulating creative methods by which to end you. 

Finally he snorts and lunges at you. Too slow to dodge, you are dragged by the hair into the spring, where he relieves you of your kimono before shoving you roughly under the water. By the time you finish coughing and sputtering, he is lifting himself onto the lip of the hotspring, using his lower pair of arms. The string of curses and insults you had waiting for him die on your parted lips as your gaze inadvertently falls between his legs.

What is that... oh... oh my god... two?

Too late, you avert your gaze as all the blood in your body rushes to your face. He crows with laughter. Too late, you realize the white swatch of fabric he held in his upper arms when he lifted himself out of the pool is your kimono. 

"Hey!" You call out, spinning in the water just in time to see him grabbing up your dirty kimono as well before turning his back and striding towards the shrine, laughing still.

"Hey," you shreik, so loud your throat burns. "Hey, demon!"

That seems to get his attention. He stops and slowly turns towards you. He takes his time approaching, the wad of fabric in his hands thankfully covering the dual appendages between his legs. 

"Don't call me that," he says, smile faded from his lips.  "Try, 'my king' or 'my lord' or even, 'master,'" he says, "but don't refer to me as if I am some creature that is beneath you."

Another tense and silent starting contest ensues. 

"Alright, master," you coo in syrupy false tone that you're sure he's used to hearing from his whores. "Can I please have my clothes back?"

He looks at you in such a way that makes you cover your breasts with your arms under the water. He chuckles and looks away.

"Your clothes?" He says, at last. "These are mine. Everything-" He sweeps an arm in the general direction of the estate, "-is mine. You have nothing."

With that, he turns on his heel and is soon gone from sight, leaving you naked and alone. The water suddenly feels entirely too warm, so hot you might suffocate. You want nothing more than to crawl out unto the Autumn air so you can breathe. 

You are steeling yourself to walk naked to your room with your head held high when the sound of gravel skittering across the stone signals that someone is approaching. Uraume carries a neatly folded stack of white fabric in their hands. "Thought you could use these," they say, laying them on a nearby rock before turning to go and give you some privacy. You call out your thanks before splashing to the edge and climbing out. 

...

You seclude yourself in your room for the day until, around dusk, boredom and hunger draw you into the kitchen, where you find much of the staff already gathered, eating. No one so much as acknowledges you as you fix a plate for yourself, which is just fine. You sit at an empty place at the end of the table across from Baba. She fixes her rheumy eyes on you. Just as she opens her mouth to speak Uraume appears from the back of the kitchen.

"Be quiet, Baba," she says.

"I didn't say anything!" She squawks  pouting at her salmon. "I didn't."

She looks at you as if she can barely contain whatever information is whirling around in her brain, eyes sliding between you and the monk as you eat. She never gets her chance, as Uraume lingers until after you have risen and cleared your place to go, carrying a tray stacked with food, presumably for Sukuna. Distantly, you wonder if he always eats alone.

A short walk around the estate eventually brings you back to your room, where you collapse onto your futon and close your eyes. Unfortunately, your mind keeps returning to the scene at the hot spring, to Sukuna parading around naked and demanding to be called by some title or another. "Such an ass," you mutter, brows furrowing over your closed eyes. "More clown than king. Clown of curses," you smile to yourself, wishing you had thought to say that to his face.

His face. Your hand on his face

"Look at me."

Your fingertips, reaching up, tracing the tattooed angle of his jaw, where, once, you had laid his flesh open. Steam rising up from the water between you, thick in your lungs, it leaves you breathless, the oppressive heat of this place. Spider eyes looking down at you, embers that threaten to burn in the dark of your charcoal heart. His hand on your wrist. Your thumb traces the blank space between the black inked into his chin, just under his lip. 

What do you want

What do you want

What do you w-

A loud thud against the wall has you gasping as you sit up out of the dream. Shuffling. Muffled words. Out of the window, there is only quiet starlight.  Sighing, you close your eyes again. 

"- fuck!" Muffled, but loud enough to discern the words, your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice. You dislike the way it makes your insides roil.

It's pissing you off. Yeah. Fucking infuriating.

"Can't even get a peaceful night's sleep," you grumble, throwing the covers off of you and striding to slam the poor, abused shoji doors open again. 

It doesn't take you long to find his room, amber light flickering under the door.

...

"What are you doing in here? You're noisy as hell," you say, standing with your hands on your hips as you peer into the room the best you can around his massive frame.

He stares.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He asks, smirking down at you. He looms over you, half naked, you notice, making a point to look at his face, not the cords of tattooed muscle that make up his chest and abdomen. 

"I don't know," you say, "killing? Torturing? Stubbing your toes? Do you have extra of those, too?"

You attempt to shoulder past him, hoping to hide the flush that crawls into your cheeks as you find yourself remembering his extra cock. Of course, that isn't what you were referring to, specifically. It is like throwing your shoulder into a brick wall. You resist the urge to rub at the injured muscle as you scowl up at him.

He chuckles.

"Quite a change of pace for you," he says, "showing up in the middle of the night, eager to get into my chambers and overly concerned with my extra appendages."

"Don't flatter yourself you-" the mouthful of ire you intend to spill is cut short when a warm puff of air against your arm draws your eyes downwards. You stumble backward as your eyes settle on his stomach, which is yawning open, quite literally. 

"Is that," you point a shaking finger, stammering as the mouth in the monster's abdomen grins, it's pointed teeth glinting in the dim light. Sukuna is laughing. He advances on you until your back hits the opposite wall of the corridor, his extra tongue, alarmingly large, licks at your outstretched hand.

You shriek in disgust, wiping your drool slicked hand on your robes and cringing away from him as he cages you in with his arms. "Quiet," he hisses, "You'll wake everyone."

"Now you're concerned for other people's rest?" You hiss back, straightening your spine.

"I would be ashamed to be seen with you," he grins.

"Ashamed to be seen with me? You're the fucking freak of-"

"Want in my bedroom so bad," he cuts you off, grabs you up by the waist while you flail and kick at him like a toddler. "Come on then," he drags you inside and slams the door shut behind him. Flings you down on the mattress like you weigh nothing. All the while you shriek and he's telling you to be quiet.

"I said quiet!" He finally roars, his face so close to yours that the volume of his voice makes your ears ring. 

Fuming, you clamp your trembling lips shut and look away, horrified at the tears that prick at your eyes and the way your hands tremble in your lap.

I can break you and mend you

break you and mend you

His words echo in your mind. 

never let you die.

If he notices the lapse in your courage - or insanity, whichever it may be - he shows no sign. He backs away from you and seats himself on the opposite corner of the futon, which, you notice, is massive to accommodate his frame. His back is to you, its tattoo-framed musculature cast in stark relief in the candle light. 

"Come here," he says quietly after a long stretch of silence. He pats the mattress next to him, evidently expecting you to sit next to him. 

When you hesitate, he looks over his shoulder at you and sighs. "I want to show you something, I won't hurt you," he says. You have never heard him sound like this before, his voice like velvet. For some reason, you believe him, so you move next to him, careful to leave a modest gap between his thigh and yours, willfully ignoring the fact that you are well past worrying about modesty after the incident this afternoon.

To your surprise, he sinks to his knees in front of you, although, even in this position, he still towers over you. You can hear your own rapid pulse in your ears. 

"Hurt your shoulder?" He asks. Your mouth is a desert.  

Not wanting to admit it, you shrug, but the action makes you wince. 

"I see," he says, slipping his fingers under the neckline of your kimono. You try to swallow what feels like a mouthful of sand. His hand slides along the column of your neck, over your collar bone until it envelops your shoulder. That strange tingling warmth seeps into your muscles until all the pain fades away. His hand travels back along the same route, but slides to the center of your chest, where it pauses. The warm weight of it keeps you rooted in place.

"Are you scared," he asks in his velvet voice, cocking his head to the side, leaning in,  "your heart is beating so hard."

Your lips part, but there are no words in your mouth. 

There is movement beneath his palm that is not your heart. It is warm and wet. Recoiling, you grasp his wrist with both hands and he allows you to pull his hand away.  

You scream when you see it, another mouth open in the palm of his hand, the tongue that had lapped at your chest lolling out. He throws his head back and laughs, at the look of terror on your face. He even allows you to push past him and escape through the door. His laughter follows you all the way down the corridor  back to your room.

...

The place between your breasts is still warm from his touch when you dive onto your futon and gather you linens around you like a kid hiding from a monster in the dark. Except your monster is real. Although he is quiet now, you still have a difficult time falling asleep. You toss and turn, trying to think of anything but his anatomical idiosyncracies, his touch, or his soft serpent voice, deceiving you. 

You will not let him make a fool of you like that again, you tell yourself.

When Uraume wakes you, calling your name from the doorway of your room, you feel as if you had only just drifted off. You struggle to hold your heavy eyelids open. "Yes?" You call out.

They step inside. "Master Sukuna requests your presence in the throne room."

"What?" You say, sitting up, suddenly wide awake. "Why."

The monk's stoic expression reveals nothing. "Your father is here and Master Sukuna requests your council on a matter involving him."

"What?" You sputter. "What matter?"

"I am instructed not to tell you."

"No," you say, pulling the blankets tighter around your shoulders. "I won't go."

Uraume sighs. "It would be better for you, I think, if you did."

You stare at them silently. 

"No one can know exactly what to expect from Master Sukuna," they continue, "but I have served him for a long time, and... if it is your safety you are concerned for, I believe there is no need. You are safe."

"I'm not concerned for my safety," you reply, crossing your arms under the blankets. 

The monk appraises you for a moment, then continues, "Alright, then. If you refuse, he will come here and drag you out himself, which, I believe, he will rather enjoy."

You stare at one another for several long moments as you grit your teeth. 

"Fine," you sigh, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "I'll be there as soon as I'm dressed."

Uraume nods and you think they almost smile before they turn and leave you to prepare yourself. 

...

As you make your way to the throne room, you turn the bizarre request over and over in your mind. You decide that it must be some kind of cruel game, another method by which to torture and humiliate you.  The thought makes you preemptively angry. Your fingernails are biting into your palms by the time you enter the throne room. Your irritation softens somewhat with a bit of stage fright as you observe the crowd gathered. Just as quickly, it sharpens again as you lay eyes in the man that brought you here.

"You look well, daughter," your father says, unable to hide the note of surprise in his voice. You realize, for the first time, that it is true. Life at the shrine has agreed with you, physically, at least. Since your arrival, you have gained some healthy weight, your injuries from various punishments have had an opportunity to heal, and your time outside has brought some color back to your complexion. Even your hair and nails have gained a healthy sheen. You preen under your father's gaze, hoping to amplify the impression that he's inadvertently done you a favor by sending you here.

"You don't," you spit. This is also true, he seems to have wilted under his robes and you notice that he keeps the arm that is missing a hand tucked into the folds of the fabric. His pathetic appearance fails to elicit any sympathy from you. Satisfaction, if anything. 

The King of Curses, looking bored as usual, is sprawled on this chair of skulls and bones, cheek resting against one fist, robes hanging open nearly to his waist. He looks more petulant prince than king, you note, as you turn to face him. "You requested my presence?"

He nods and straightens himself somewhat as he beckons you with his fingers, "Come."

You want to seem comfortable to your father, not like the prisoner that you are, so you comply without argument. 

"Closer," he says. Although his expression remains neutral, you imagine that you see a glint of amusement in his eyes. This time, you obey with only slight hesitation. 

"Sit," he says, patting a thigh when you are within arms reach of him. Thinking of how it will irk your father to see you obey this man, this demon, when you had ceaselesly rebeled against him, you stand on your tip toes and climb into Sukuna's lap.

You wonder if he has to work at not looking surprised when you obey the way you have to work at not looking disgusted when he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. It is impossible not to think of the mouth on his abdomen beneath his robes as he pulls you directly up against him. "Compliant today," he whispers low enough that only you can hear.

"For now," you whisper back, turning to face him you ask,  "What do you-" What do you want "-require from me, master Sukuna?"

He nods toward your father, although his eyes remain on you.  "Your father comes with a request," he says.

You turn to look at your father, huddled into his robes, looking tired and wan. Silently you wonder if he is sick, perhaps from the wound Sukuna inflicted on him the day you were brought to the shrine. 

"He asks that I restore his hand," Sukuna says. While you were appraising your father's appearance, he had leaned in close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your neck and you startle at the rumble of his voice.

"Bold," you say, furrowing your brows, you still can't understand why he would bring you here, sit you in his lap and tell you this.  Bizarre.

"Do you wish it?"

"What?" You ask, perplexed, your narrowed eyes slide between Sukuna and your father. What is the trick here? 

The truth is, you don't want anything restored to the bastard, much less the hand he used to strike you with.  Surely the monster knows this, especially after your less than warm greeting on seeing him. You suspect that you're wishes only matter to Sukuna so that he can go against them. 

"Do you want me to restore you Father's hand or not?" He says, impatience creeping into his tone at having to repeat himself. 

"Why does it matter what I want, my king?" Thinking quickly, you answer with a question of your own. You hadn't meant to sarcastically emphasize his title, but it slips out before you can catch it. 

Sukuna's expression darkens, obviously irritated. "It matter, my dear, because I want to know. Now answer! Do you or do you not want me to fix the bastard's hand?"

The snickering that rises from the crowd is abruptly silenced when all four of Sukuna's eyes snap up.

"I- I do," you stammer.

"What?" Sukuna blurts, then he hisses low in your ear, "Why? Do you miss being slapped around?" His fingers dig into your waist. "All you had to do was say so," he coos.

Your heart stutters when you turn your head and find his eyes only inches from yours. "He is my Father and I- I love him," you lie through gritted teeth, choosing to ignore his last statement.

A familiar laughter echoes behind you and you know even before you look that it comes from your father. Anger roils in your gut when you turn to see him suddenly standing tall and looking as hale and healthy as ever. The wilted look he had before, an act. "What are you whispering about, demon? We had a deal."

You whip your eyes back at Sukuna to find his gaze locked on your father, his mouth tight and grim. "What is he talking about?" You demand.

"Fine, Kamo. I will keep my word," he says, eyes trained forward, ignoring you. "Approach."

"What deal?" You ask again, wriggling against Sukuna's arm now, although he hold you tight against him, still ignoring you.

Your father is still laughing as he draws near. "We had a little wager, the monster said he would restore my hand as long as you agreed, sweet daughter."

"So you're good friends now?" You cry at Sukuna's  impassive face. "Playing games? Placing bets?" You spit out the words like bile even as Sukuna reaches out to touch the pink flesh of the wrist where your father's hand used to be. You watch, anger rising to new heights as new fingers emerge out of the bubbling flesh.

You fathers face splits in a cruel grin as he flexes his restored hand. "Thank you, daughter," he sneers, "it seems that being a demon's slut suits you- has certainly softened you little black hear-"

Unable to either contain or articulate your rage you spit at his face. His grin disintegrates as the glob of saliva lands on his cheek. His reaction is just as lightning quick, he cocks back his arm and slaps you hard enough across the face that you see stars and taste blood.

The next thing you know, Sukuna has grasped you under the chin and turned your head back towards the man. "Watch," he hisses in your ear.

With a flick of his wrist, a slit appears in the front of the general's robes, an astonished groan falling from his lips as his hands rush to it. They do nothing to staunch the gush of blood that follows, spilling between the gaps in his fingers. Nor are they effective in stopping the ochre tangle of guts from tumbling to the floor, although they grasp and clutch at the errant loops of intestine as he falls to his knees, eviscerated.

Your eyes track from the ghastly scene to Sukuna's scowling face in dreamy slow motion. 

"Do you not wish to comfort your beloved father, as he dies?" Sukuna asks, eyes boring into you as a high, keening laughter splits the air. It takes a moment to realize that the sound is coming from you. You struggle to stop, even when you hear the gurgled threat at your back.

"Even better... why don't you join me?"

[ivystoryweaver]

3 Times Jake Lockley Tried to Kill You and 1 Time He Saved Your Life

Part 2 of 5: Gun

previous || Miniseries Masterlist || Main Masterlist || next

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: Jake creates a second chance to get the job done

Or: Will you get a new toy to play with?

Word Count: 1.8k

Content: Read all series warnings on the miniseries masterlist! nsfw, mdni, more below the cut

Part 2: Power imbalance, kidnapping, violence, language, stalking, very extremely dirty gun play, danger, masturbation, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A week passed before you left your penthouse.

Jake’s boss was not a patient man, but Jake convinced him that you were unreachable for a few days, and that he was on it. He sent new surveillance pictures to calm the man down, assuring him he would take care of the problem.

He wanted to wait longer. You were hurt, after all. No way you’d completely recovered from a stab wound, but you seemed determined to get back to your life. Of course, why did he care if you were fully recovered or still hurting if he was only looking for another opportunity to kill you?

Unfortunately, your inept bodyguards Dumb and Dumber added a third. So…Dumb and Dumber and Dumbest?

He only made things worse for himself for letting you live, but you got under his skin, plain and simple.

Another week passed before he could get you alone again, and it took practically 24/7 stalking to find his moment.

So…he had definitely descended into creep behavior.

Time to get this over with.

He found you in the park again, walking instead of jogging this time. Maybe your side still hurt.

The Dummies lingered close by, but Jake could handle a challenge.

He walked right by you with a nonchalant stroll, and pushed a gun into your (not wounded) side, ushering you into his car before your idiot bodyguards could react.

Despite your fantasies about this man over the past two weeks, terror flooded your body as he steered with one hand and held you at gunpoint with his other.

His clean shaven face momentarily distracted you - perhaps his first intelligent decision. He should at least try to hide from your father, and even a slight alteration to his appearance could prove helpful. His strong, sharp jawline and pliable lips made him seem simultaneously more approachable and somehow deadlier.

“Got your present,” he smoothly intoned. The corner of his mouth curled. “Brought you a new one to play with.”

“Okay. Okay,” you gasped, holding out your hands defensively. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working, all right? Just…do what you’re gonna do. You're scaring the shit out of me.”

Jake tutted, but kept his eyes on the road. “You really have a death wish, don’t you, Princesa?”

“Don’t call me that,” you spat. “My father calls me that. His princess.”

Probably not a great idea to bring up your father to the man who wanted revenge against him.

Jake held his tongue, driving in silence for another few minutes. Finally he pulled the car into a parking garage and drove down the bottom level, below street level, before turning off the engine and looking over at you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you with a certain tenderness in his coffee colored eyes, as if he actually might care.

“What? Why the fuck do you care how I’m feeling?” You snapped. “You have a gun in my face and you stabbed me. I feel like shit. Like - terrified, impatient shit, thank you very much.”

“There it is,” he appreciatively chuckled. “I didn’t think one little stab wound would turn you into a damsel.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you clapped back, feigning courage. “Shooting someone is a hard crime to cover up. But I’m sure you know that because you look like the kind of asshole who does my father’s dirty work. You really want me splattered all over the inside of this piece of shit you call a car?”

Jake shoved the barrel of his gun right between your eyes. “You’re calling my car a piece of shit? That’s reason enough to pull the trigger, muñeca. We don’t all have daddy’s blood money to buy us toys.”

Despite your feistiness, a loaded gun between your eyes did give you pause. Your lips trembled as Jake dragged the gun down your nose to your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, tracing the fullness of your parted, panting lips with his weapon. “Shame I have to kill you.”

If someone paid you a billion dollars, you would never be able to puzzle out why you did it: but your tongue darted out to lick the barrel of his gun.

Jake locked eyes with you as you swirled your tongue around the cool metal. “You know how to use one of these, baby?” He purred, pushing the gun into your mouth.

You nodded slightly, body trembling as you wrapped your lips around the barrel, accepting it all the way to the back of your throat until you gagged.

Jake groaned, easing the gun back toward your lips, almost completely removing it from your mouth before fucking it back into your wet, waiting cavern. You started to bob your head, sucking the weapon like a cock, eyes locked on his as he shoved it over and over again…

…to the back of your throat, gagging you, to the front of your lips until drool spilled out the corners of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he rasped, finally removing the offending metal from you completely.

Your lust-soaked panties didn’t prevent you from collapsing in a small measure of relief after your wild but dangerous display. He could have blown your head off, even by accident, and still probably intended to.

“You didn’t answer me,” he chided, using the gun’s barrel to lift your chin back up, forcing you to look at him. “I can see you know how to use that pretty mouth, but do you know how to use this?”

Shaking your head quickly, you wanted to scream as he condescendingly chuckled. “Of course not. You are a princess. Here.” Shoving the thing into your trembling fingers, he made sure to turn on the safety. He reached for your opposite hand, correctly positioning your grip in his gloved hands.

“Two hands, like this,” he instructed. “No action movie bullshit.”

His eyebrows shot up, waiting for you to respond. You slowly nodded.

“It’s loaded, but - " Positioning your finger by the safety, he showed you how to use it correctly. “Safety first. Don’t ever take the safety off unless you have a plan to get rid of a body.”

“Why?” You gasped, your hands dipping under the weight of the weapon as he finally removed his own. “How do you know I won’t shoot you?”

And he smiled. “I don’t.”

“I will,” you huffed, shoving the gun into his chest. “I’ll do it.”

Jake wet his lips, his eyes darkening as he cocked his head to the side. “Take it. You need a new toy to play with tonight, when you’re thinking about me.”

“You asshole - "

“You started this,” he lowly growled, “by sending me that knife instead of giving it to daddy.” His voice dropped an octave as he leaned in, his breath ghosting your lips. “I bet you shove this gun in your pussy the way you let me shove it into your mouth,” he taunted, slowly reaching up to put his hand over yours before pushing the gun down between your legs.

You whimpered, thinking this was it. He was about to shoot you right now.

“Safety’s on, baby,” he leaned in and breathed on your ear, pushing the gun lower until it rested over your panties.

“You’re wet right now, aren’t you?” He taunted, slowly rubbing the gun back and forth.

“Dammit, I knew you were a pervert,” you whispered, unable to muster a convincing amount of guile.

Jake immediately removed his hands, holding them up as if surrendering. “I’m never going to touch you like that until you ask me to.”

“I’ll fucking kill you first,” You growled, shoving the gun back into his chest.

He easily disarmed you, pointing the gun right at your head. “Get out.”

Shit. Shit, this was it. “I-if those are my last words, I can do better.”

He actually laughed. “Get the fuck out.”

He waited until you opened the car door before deftly removing the magazine and tossing the pieces out behind you. “Keep it. Someone’s trying to kill you.”

Reaching over to close the door, he peeled out of the parking garage, leaving you there alone. And armed. Sort of.

“Asshole!” You screamed after him.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You dreaded your bodyguards questioning where you went and why you suddenly had possession of a weapon. But when they finally got your call, you decided to turn the tables, letting them know that if your father found out you were missing today, on their watch, he would use the gun in your hand to put holes in the backs of their heads.

They left you alone.

You were reeling by the time you got back to your penthouse, but inevitably, nighttime came.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” The smooth velvet of his voice echoed in your head. “Good girl…I bet you shove it in your pussy…”

You weren’t about to shove a loaded gun anywhere in your body, so you left the magazine out and took off all your clothes, sliding under the sheets.

“Take it. You need a new toy to play with tonight, when you’re thinking about me..”

You dragged the barrel of the gun across your hard nipples, just the way you played with the knife. The simple memory of his voice had you soaked already.

“I fucking hate you,” you whispered into the dark, somehow wishing he could hear you as you plunged the gun’s barrel into your dripping cunt.

“Oh fuck…” The metal wasn’t as forgiving as one of your toys, but your pussy clenched and quivered just the same, knowing he predicted you would fuck yourself with his weapon - that he hoped you would.

With two fingers, you circled your clit, wishing you could pant his name as you writhed and fucked down harder, but…

you still didn’t know him.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake waited a few days, wondering if you’d send the gun back to him, covered in your juices, but maybe you’d wised up. If you had any sense at all, you’d give it to the police, but he was certain you wouldn’t.

His employer was growing impatient.

And even Jake didn’t understand why he was dragging his feet...except that seeing you sent a thrill jolting through him he couldn't understand.

But time to get this shit done or it would be him at the bottom of the river. The fire in your voice as you snapped back at him like a wounded animal...the memory of the rise and fall of your breasts as you pretended not be afraid of him - the misplaced desire in you to be brave, even though no one in your life cared enough to teach you basic self-defense or how to handle a firearm... You were not the victim here. Your family made victims. He couldn't be your savior.

It was you or him.

So no more games.

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

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[noxioustoxins]

Food for Thought - JayTim - Batman

Jason just finished making pasta, a meal full of carbs and protein, with only enough sauce to make all the ingredients stick together, just the way Tim liked it. He wouldn’t eat it otherwise. He added some extra sauce to his bowl and left the kitchen.

“Any progress?” Jason asked, sitting next to Tim on the couch, mouth full of pasta and fork dripping with his properly sauced food.

Tim’s eyes flickered over, before almost immediately returning to the computer

Hook.

“The budget is almost illegible. It’s definitely on purpose but I don’t have proof of which shareholder is responsible for it.”

Tim has been chasing a shareholder through botched paperwork for a few weeks. It was a string of issues that they were not used to. Most situations they came up against could be dealt with through well-placed violence, but this was a game of cat and mouse. Which if it were an actual game, Tim might have enjoyed. But as it stands, he has a shareholder stealing money from the company and botching projects for insurance scams. The difficulty Tim was running into, the reason the investigation has been going on so long, has been because corporate scum bags fight in paper work and contracts. So, Tim has had to dig his way through red tape, new and old contracts, current budget meeting and previous budget meetings, all to match up numbers that claim to have been lost in the shuffle.

There have been a few of his ‘board of old men’, Tim’s words, that he had cleared. Each cleared shareholder lightened the load, but sniffing out one specific pompous asshole at Wayne Enterprises was taking its time; and a toll on Tim. He hasn’t been able to take time to patrol as Red Robin, and his team have had to manage a few cases without him at the helm because of the near quadrupled amount of paperwork he’s had his nose in lately. It was making him antsy, his mind had been busy, but Jason could feel Tim’s body aching to move. The way he shifted constantly lately, or got up just to walk around, the lessened patrols were definitely getting to him. When he had been able to go out, he wasn’t even working on investigations, and had taken to the role of simply beating assholes senseless.

But Tim wouldn’t let anyone help. His pride wouldn’t let him.

“So, no progress?” Jason said through another mouth full of sloppy, wet pasta.

“Not in this specific file yet,” Tim sighed, “but I was able to eliminate one more suspect today.”

Tim began chewing on his thumb nail, eyes still glued to his computer screen.

“Well,” Jason grunted as he stood up, “you have like, three extra jobs at WE now, so no one can blame you for it taking time.”

“I blame me,” Tim grumbled, “I have to wait for every new edition of every new contract and every new budget, and then having studied those, I have to wait for the board meeting, which I then spend most of that time trying to catch someone slipping, but these guys lie, cheat, and steal through their whole lives. It just feels like the progress is so slow its non-existent.” Tim pulled the laptop into his lap, slouched against the couch and scrolled through another page of gibberish on his computer that seemed to make sense to him.

“Of course it does. You’re climbing a wall of old man greed with bricks made out of million-dollar budgets and legal jargon.” Jason spoke up louder, so his voice could be heard from the kitchen.

He made his way back to the living room, taking a bite of pasta with not enough sauce, before sitting back down and staring intensely at the computer. Tim looked over at him as he entered.

Line.

“Wait.” Jason said, grabbing the computer off Tim’s lap, and putting the pasta where the laptop had been.

“What?” Tim said, leaning in. Jason held up his hand to pause Tim, and scanned the document on the computer.

“Nothing.” Jason said, looking over at Tim, then at the bowl, and back at Tim with a smile.

It was boring, and Jason had to reread every line twice for any of them to make sense. Beside him, Tim took a bite of too dry pasta.

Sinker.

Tim looked down at the bowl of pasta, made with just enough sauce for everything to stick together and extra parmesan cheese, just the way he liked it.

Tim’s glare meant nothing, as it was followed by an eye roll and a small smile. Jason closed the laptop, and Tim moved closer, another forkful of pasta in his mouth, once again reminded that, yes, he did need to eat.

[danikamariewrites]

what do you think about batboys/ feysand/ nessian with a mate that used to get bullied before they met, And one day they’re at ritas and she sees her old bullies and she freezes up. They notice and reader explains and they beat the bullies up, UGHH THE ANGSTT AND COMFORT👀🤍

Ex’s Are Assholes

Poly!batboys x reader

A/n: I went with the boys on this one bc they’d go feral if you ran into your old bully (I didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance for typos I didn’t have the energy)

Warnings: over protective bat boys and slight violence

For date night the boys decided to take you drinking and dancing at Rita’s. It wasn’t with the rest of the group, just you and your mates. And they promised you ice cream later so you were happy to go to Rita’s for date night.

You were just happy to have their undivided attention. Currently you were dancing with Rhys. He spun you, pulled you back into him so he could sway with you to the music.

Cassian and Azriel made their way back to you holding drinks for all of you. Cassian handed Rhys his wine and you your cocktail. As you danced around with them more Cass accidentally bumped your arm causing you to spill your drink.

“Oh, honey! I am so sorry. Let me get you another one.” He said in that sweet apologetic tone. You smiled at him kissing his cheeks. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gunna go get another.” You sauntered off to the bar shooting them a wink over your shoulder.

Approaching the bar you spot Marcy, your favorite bartender ever! “Hi y/n! Usual cocktail?” You gave her a big smile. “Yes please. Cass made me spill.” March smiled and shook her head as she made you another drink. “I’m out of your choice of vodka. I’m gunna go grab another bottle.” She said, walking out from behind the bar toward the back room.

As you waited by the bar you felt someone nudge your arm. You moved over a smidge to give the stranger room but you couldn’t shake the familiarity of their presence. Glancing next to you, you stop breathing. Your ex-boyfriend is staring down at you, wearing a smirk that made you squirm.

“Hi y/n.” He drawls clearly drunk. He tries to tilt your head up by your chin but you jerk away. This male was the last person you wanted to see. He treated you like shit throughout your relationship. He was verbally abusive and tried to turn your friends against you. Gaslighting you was his fucking hobby and when you had enough he played the victim.

You firm,y pointed a finger at him, “Don’t ever. Fucking touch me again.” Your voice shook a little, your eyes going wide as tears welled in them. You hated that he had this affect on you. “Come on sweetheart. You know you want me back.”

You were at a loss for words. The only thing on your mind was getting back to the safety of your boys and getting the fuck out of here. You turned on your heel and sped walked through the bar until you saw the back of Cassian’s wings.

You rant the last few steps, grabbing Azriel’s arm to try and stop your hands from shaking. You looked back at the bar and saw your ex walking toward you. “I want to go home. We have to go now.” Azriel put his drink down on the high top table they were standing at, gently holding your arms.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Your whole body was shaking at this point. Cassian and Rhys followed your gaze and saw the male drunkenly stumbling towards you. “Was he bothering you?” Rhys’ voice tense and dark. You nod. “He’s my ex.”

You let your tears flow down your cheeks and that sent Cassian over the edge. He stretched out his neck and cracked his knuckles. Az steered you into Rhys’ arms copying Cassian’s movements. Your ex finally made it to the table and clearly couldn’t read their mood.

He tried to walk toward you but Cassian caught his shoulder in a bone crushing grip. “She doesn’t want to speak to you. I suggest you leave.” He growled out. “Or things won’t work out so well for you.” Az added, his voice deadly.

Your ex tried to push Cassian and that’s all they needed. Azriel’s shadows restrained him and he struggled against the dark chains. “Take her home.” Cassian commanded to Rhys. “We’ll be there in a bit.” The two Illyrians led the male outside. The last thing you saw was the door slamming shut before darkness surrounded you and Rhys.

When light appeared again you were back in the living room of the Town House. You collapsed on the couch and began to sob. Rhys held you against him rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s ok. You’re safe now, it’s just us. No one’s going to hurt you y/n.”

Pulling yourself together you sat up and wiped at your eyes. Rhys scooted down the couch an inch to give you some space as you took deep breaths. “I hate that he got this reaction out of me.” You gave him a sad look which he returned. “I know darling. Sometimes we hold on to things without even knowing it. And it’s ok to cry about it, there’s nothing wrong with letting those emotions out.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, slipping your arms around his neck as he pulled you into his lap.

A few moments later Cassian and Azriel came in the front door. Their knuckles bloody and panting. You rose form the couch motioning for the, to follow you. You led them to the upstairs bathroom and pointed at the edge of the massive tub, “Sit.”

They followed your orders and waited with their hands resting on their knees. Rhys came to stand next to you handing you two cloths. You wet both of them and started wiping their hands. “You don’t have to do this y/n.” Azriel said, his voice softer than it was when you left him at Rita’s. You just shook your head and continued cleaning his scarred hands until most of the blood was gone.

You threw the cloth in the laundry bin, picking up the other to clean Cassian’s hands. When you were done you kissed them both on their foreheads, pulling them up and leading them to bed.

That night they squished you extra tight between them. Making you feel safe and secure.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa