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dragongirlpoet · 1 month ago

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Dark Signs 3

Summary: As Alucard grapples with his grief over what he has done, secrets are unveiled and graver foes awaken. Is it too late to save you? (Plot takes off months before *that ending* in part 2. Some parts are off-canon.)

This chapter is written in Alucard’s POV.

Themes: Dark fantasy, horror, romance, angst I Words: 4k

Warnings: MDNI. Horror, blood, gore, violence, religious themes, mentions of suicide, grief, depression, anxiety, slight smut

Pt 1 I Pt 2

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To the lovely folks who are holding out for part 3, thank you! 💛 Sorry I couldn’t put this out sooner.

@s-i-l-v-e @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @celly-fahrenheit @skychaser777

I tasted blood, cherry and salt.

And I wanted more, more, more.

We were tangled in each other, our bodies suspended in the cosmic cerulean of the deep ocean.

She was my salvation. Her kiss was my atonement. And her blood, oh her blood…it was a gift so heavenly. All my immortal life had desired only that very thing, and now that I had it, I couldn’t let go.

Every shred of my primordial essence — powerful yet cursed, now entombed in the marrows of her soul. My blood now flowed in hers, as her blood, mine. We were fused as one, we were divine.

My darling’s fingers traced the sharps of my jaw as she kissed me, our married blood spilling from her mouth, diluting the water. They formed red rivulets around us, as if in symbolic reverence that we were the almighty givers of ichor.

We were safe, entwined together in eternal damnation.

I love her. I love her so deeply that I’d doomed her with my blood curse, so I could have her by my side till the sun swallowed us whole. And for that, I’d forever fester in my blasphemous sin.

“Adrian…” she seemed to say, but the snare of the ocean strangled her words, slowed our every caress… as if time at all wanted to still for our undying love.

Oh what I would give to hear her voice — seraphic, like a birdsong, my name chaste upon her lips.

Her ivory chemise clung to her body like sculpted granite, her nipples just peeking through. They were for my eyes only. Yes…her being, her blood, her body…they all belonged to me.

But in that sacred moment, something felt…amiss. There were those jade-green veins, palpable under her eyes… they ran like fine cracks on marble, so like those on a delicately-carved statue.

Raven hair hovered around her tiny frame, resembling venomous serpents held buoyant by witchcraft. They were so in contrast to my gold, like the exact moment dusk bled into dawn.

There was the red rivulet again, this time saturating the white ribbons of her nightdress. They coiled around my arms, binding me to her. Not that I’d ever let go.

But I had to, for her lingering touch was frost impaling even my vampiric skin. Why was she so cold?

“Adrian…” again she seemed to call out.

Her eyes, despite being underwater, were wide open, the blacks of them bereft of the soul I once knew. She was pale. So pale. And she looked every bit the angel of death.

My angel…when did she slip from my arms?

Our fingers entwined one last time, before a sombre gloom dragged her under. Slowly she sank, like a fallen star ousted by the heavens, syphoned of its light.

But I’m right here, darling. Stay.

I willed all of my immortal power to reach for her outstretched hands, but my body was deadened, as if held prisoner by spirit shackles. Further and further she sank from me, and I so terribly wanted to tell her that wasn’t where she was supposed to go.

Words evaded me, as my tears had.

The hollow abyss seemed to rise up — impatient, almost — to receive its new sacrifice.

Blood gushed from her mouth — they were viscid, as if so thickened they had to be forced out or she would choke. The blood kept coming. They streamed out of the sockets of her eyes, running like bloody tears of the living dead.

They say that monsters like us lack the ability to fear, yet I’d never felt more afraid than I did then. The love of my life, drowning, dying, yet I could do wholly nothing. Alucard, son of Dracula — weak, worthless…

A fissure cracked her chest open, the cavity creeping wide to reveal her beating heart. Her human heart.

The blood kept coming.

“Come back to me…” I begged, the futility of it sickening me.

Still, she descended. I watched in horror as the godless ocean buried her in its oblivion, until all I was made to see was the compunction of my sins.

On her neck that I used to so lavish with kisses, lay the wounds only a wretch like me could inflict.

I did it. I killed her.

“Adrian…”

____________

I jolted awake.

A numbing despair perforated my insides, a feeling I knew all too well. I stared out the window through heavy eyelids, the red moon magnified by sweat teardrops trickling through my eyelashes.

For a long moment I just sat there, my lungs crushed by torment, my heart shattered by grief. I’d lost count of the nightmares that had plagued me over the decade…no, it’s been 96 years, Adrian. A century. A century she’s been gone.

What was I living for?

Memories I longed to forget writhed their way into my mind, forcing me to once again relive the hell that fateful night.

I had sat in the castle hall for days, her lifeless body cradled in my arms. My eyes burned from tears, and I wanted to die. I fed her so much of my blood, my immortal blood, still she slept. I summoned spirits, conjured the most powerful of magicks, still, she slept. My hope hanging by a thread, I fused my father’s sciences with my mother’s elixirs…still, she slept.

I was about to drive my own sword into my heart — the only one ensorcelled enough to kill a dhampir, when a familiar voice stopped my contemptible deed.

“Alucard! This place reeks of death, and here I thought we’d gotten rid of your father long ago.”

“Stop it, Belmont!”

“What? He may be pristine but his home sure isn’t. Alucard! Honey, we’re home!”

“Will you stop yelling?”

“Alucard’s probably busy shoving it in her, ha. I need to make sure he can hear me above their grunts and moans. Have you forgotten how loud you get, Sypha?”

“You’re disgusting, Belmont.”

“Alucard! Ah, there you are. In the hall, really? You two really are something. Do you have food? I’m starving. I…”

“Belmont.”

“Fine, fine. Beer is good as w…”

“Belmont!”

It took Belmont a long minute before he alas perceived what Sypha meant. My two dearest friends — immobile in silent trepidation, distress distinct on their faces.

“What happened, Alucard? Was she attacked?” Sypha was the first to speak. As always, her presence seemed to bring solace, but it dissipated promptly.

“I killed her, Sy…Sypha. She asked mmme… to…tto turn her, and I…I drank too much…I killed her.”

Mere speaking incinerated my throat, and it was then I’d realised I hadn’t stopped crying. I could scarce breathe through my wheezing, let alone enunciate words.

“I…I tried ever…rything, help me please…ppplease…save her please…”

Belmont, in a rare display of empathy, knelt beside us and took my hand in his. “We will find a way to save her, and we will not stop until we do. I promise.”

At his oath, I collapsed into Belmont’s arms. Anguish, shame, relief…they all coursed through my body — my face buried in his shoulders, weeping. Every emotion that I’d held in, all unfettered at the fact that I had someone, that I wasn’t alone to fight my battles.

“Fault yourself not, Alucard. She never would’ve blamed you.” Sypha’s voice was soft, soothing, enveloping us in a reassuring embrace. I fell apart completely.

A loud pounding at the doors disturbed our bittersweet reunion, arousing our every alarm. There seemed to be a clamour of sorts — yelling, mocking…definitely humans. Belmont took to receive the unusual affair, leaving a gap just wide enough to acknowledge a throng of men — bishops, priests and followers of the church.

“I don’t remember ever calling for your conceited services, Father.” Belmont sneered.

“It’s Father Caine to you, and I could hardly expect couth coming from especially you. Excommunicated and still, never learning the error of your ways…

I sense a great evil here…more so than I daresay…Dracula himself. Forgive our ruckus, for we, the good men, merely wish to rid the town of all that is malign…Hand the girl over, and all shall be well.”

Sypha and I exchanged uneasy looks. What was he talking about?

Belmont, entirely irked by the bishop’s pretentious drivel, was barely holding it in. “Take your horseshit hubris and shove it up your a…”

“Oh, but don’t you want to know why we want the girl? Not the speaker-magician…the dhampir’s lover.”

What?

The dastardly bishop, words of scorn and malice, continued, “She now has the blood curse of the dhampir, and something in that transformation awoke creatures of the night…dark, hateful creatures…ones that possess an ancient evil…It is easy. We exorcise and burn her body, and as I’ve said…all shall be well.”

Blood searing in my veins, I raced past Belmont, the parasite parish’s body dangling midair in my chokehold. Eyes bloodshot and fangs hungry, I crushed his throat harder. He let out pathetic struggles of breath, rosary still firmly clasped in his hand.

“Where is your God now, Father? If we are the impurity you so seek to vanquish, then what of the innocents you slaughtered unrepentently, all because they did not fit your cause?”

I thought of my mother, the Belmonts, the heathens who simply held their own beliefs…and most of all, I thought of my sweet angel, so kind and full of love…

“What the…” Belmont cursed when we were doused with buckets of Holy Water. The “Men of God” started chanting prayers, as if their contrived communion would somehow free their pious leader.

I let out a laugh.

“The absolute gall you have, Father. Despite my mourning, I shall grant you this last mercy. Command your men to leave and never again return, and I shall kill only you. Fail to do so, and I’ll rip the tendons from all your wicked hearts. After all, I am a monster, am I not?”

A few men flinched at my words, casting hesitant glances to the others, while some implored Father Caine to choose wisely. Such cowards.

The bishop shifted a little in my grip, a faint smirk splayed across his face. “M…ark my words, vampire. Dark times ar…are ahead…The girl must di…”

I tore his heart right out of his ribs.

He was right. I was a vampire. I was omni-sentient. I was a monster and a God all at the same time. The farcical impudence he had to order the execution of my beloved…Anyone who touches her will die.

With his blood on my hands, I felt my hunger creep in once again, ripping off the human mask I wore like a virtue. I needed to feed.

It wasn’t until Belmont started swinging his Morningstar than I realised the tumult that had ensued. “And God shits in my dinner once again…Alucard! Left!”

Veins palpitating from the heart I’d just consumed, I saw that the rest of the church, quite possibly under the predetermined order of the bishop, lit a pyre that massacred the foliage we used to read under, devoured the quince fruit trees we so loved to frolic around.

They will all die.

“Get back!” Sypha cried, mutating the fire into swirls that wavered to her bidding. She channelled them towards the men, trapping them in rings of flame. Out of nowhere, fire arrows flew in our direction, narrowly missing Sypha’s face. That was enough to send Belmont into a scalding rage.

His Morningstar cleaved through half of the men, dismembering some, dissecting others. My estoc weaved through throats and hearts, beheading some, mutilating others. The tragic irony of it all — the very men whose sole mission was to protect mankind, to do good, on an aimless rampage to kill because of a misguided prophecy.

And so the fighting went on for months, years... Night creatures, more members of the parish, vampires seeking a new world order…valiant efforts, alas they were no more than vermins effortlessly exterminated by us three.

We weren’t certain why they had kept showing up. Whether it was a curse set off by my turning her, or the fact that they simply wanted us dead…it mattered not, nor did I make it my business to find out. I was going to kill them all.

Sypha and Belmont had kept to their promise. Come hell or high water, they stuck with me, even moving into the castle with their son. We battled foes, and never once did they abandon their cause to revive the love of my life.

“Alucard, you need to seal her. Keep her somewhere safe, where no one but you can find,” Sypha had one day told me. I was no fool, I’d known they wouldn’t be around forever, and if I’d succumbed to my grief, all their efforts would’ve been in vain.

“Promise me that when she wakes, you two will look after our kids, and grandkids, and great-grandkids, and…” Belmont trailed off, seemingly stumped by staple discourse.

“They’re called descendants, you idiot.” Sypha rolled her eyes.

Managing a genuine smile I haven’t had in a long while, I replied, “I promise.”

“My lord.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yet leave my reverie.

“My lord,” Centrio again addressed, this time with more urgency. There, bowing by the door, dressed in fine leather that I had gifted, stood the first human I’d turned after…her. I’d found him by the docks, and he was all but an emanciated vagrant on the brink of death. Perhaps it was the matyr in me, but I thought it more I had wanted to experiment…if he indeed turned, perhaps there was a way…

“The council is ready for you.”

Donning my guise of Imperious Vampire Overlord — terrifying, deadly, merciless — I made my way down to the great hall with my most loyal emissary. I clutched at the pendant around my neck — a vial forged with obsidian and laced with gold, encased with her blood. It was the only way I could feel her if she woke.

An excruciating sorrow once again took shape, like an enemy planting tiny splinters in my heart, except those splinters were tainted with the most malevolent of poisons, inching slowly to ravage my vital core.

“My lord,”

The council all greeted in unison, heads bowed in utter veneration. Men, women, young, old…I had sired them all. To have a contingency if I ever needed one, to delegate my task of finding a cure, to have some goddamn chatter in the forsaken castle…

“We’ve received word that the denomination led by Gwyth is storming in from the highlands of Brasov. They are…angered by the vampires you’ve sired. She thinks just because…”

“Just because what?”

The gathering fell silent, as if fearful to draw my ire. Good…that’s how I intended it to be.

“Tell me, Finnor, does your gallantry waver in my presence? If so, perhaps it was my oversight in appointing you General?”

“Forgive me, my lord. She thinks it’s a travesty that we, vampires a mere century old, are…” Finnor cleared his throat before continuing, “...exhausting all the human blood supply here in Braila. Some of our own have gone over to bordering cities, and they’re most displeased. She thinks that just because you’re… Dracula’s son, doesn’t give you the right…”

“Dracula’s son?” I scoffed.

“Did I not sire you all? If Dracula is my father, then does his blood not also run in your veins?

“Yes!” My council concurred in earnest.

Does that not make you powerful?”

“Yes!”

“Good! Then let them come. We will defend what is rightfully ours, will we not?”

“Yes!”

At that, they broke into a resounding cheer, half howling, the rest pounding staffs, swords and what have you on the marble floor. Contrary to the revelry below, I, worshipped like a God on my throne, felt wholly insentient. I cared not for war, nor truimphs, nor reign. If I’d created bloodthirsty monsters, it was merely a means to an end.

I wanted only one thing.

Was this how my father felt when my mother died?

“Kindly see to it, Centrio. I wish not to be bothered.”

“At your service, my lord.”

There she was — immaculate in white, clutching the garland of daffodils I’d made her, so detached from the pain I’d caused…I had all but little choice when I’d sealed her in the underground castle chambers. I had cast a spell so powerful, that save for the both of us, no one could enter, or find, our fortress in Wallachia.

Living in the castle without my friends, without her, seeing her lifeless body…it went on for months, years…I couldn’t bear it. Her lying there, bereft of a heartbeat, of a breath, broke me in ways I never knew existed.

And so I resolved to start over in Braila, it was the only way to keep her safe, it was the only way I could honour my vow to save her.

Cape dragging behind my lifeless steps, I trudged back to my study, thoughts once again lost in her. Innumerable letters I’d written, infinite words I wanted to say — all frozen and wayward like misplaced luminaries in an interstellar void.

What have I done, darling? I’ve created…abominations... so many innocent lives lost because of me…Will you still love me when you see what I’ve become?

“Adrian…”

I spun round, completely entranced by her voice.

In the doorway, against the crimson glow of the stained-glass window, wearing the white chemise just as she always had, awaited my beloved. It suddenly became daunting to breathe, my mind apprehensive to behold the sight.

“Darling? Is it really you?” I uttered, my words close to a tremble.

She said nothing, but merely moved to me with such litheness I was taken aback. Her steps were languid, like a lone willow swaying in a bleak winter tempest.

“H…how did you find me? You don’t look well, do you need to feed? Here,” I offered my bloodslit wrists to her. She pressed her lips to them at once, as though thoroughly acquainted with my gesture.

“I missed you so much, I…”

“Shhh…” she hushed, sinking to her knees.

Her hands made quick work of my trousers, and too soon had my entire length in her mouth. My cock twitched as her tongue lapped over the ridges of my growing erection, licking hurried circles around my tip.

“Fuck…baby…I missed you so fucking much…” I panted, pushing her face deeper between my thighs. “Ahhh…that feels so good…” and threw my head back, shutting my eyes, relishing in the absolute ecstasy of her eagerness.

Pumping my sex in rapid fervour, she took it further down her throat, sucking, constricting…the weight of my every burden reduced to an indistinct drone.

“Slow down, darling,”

“Yes, my lord…”

My eyes flew open. My lord?

From where I was, I alas saw it. The sable of her tresses ran an incomparable lustre to my darling’s raven. I flung the devil thrall into the windows at once, shattering the glass, red fragments giving way to golden gleams of the inconspicuous sun.

“How very dare you,” my voice dropping to a haunting hiss as I stalked towards her. “The audacity you possess to employ such pitious artifice…who sent you?”

The thrall quivered at my unrestrained wrath, straining to speak against the bleeding shards skewered in her throat.

“Y…you…did…m…my l..ord…”

I froze, the lunacy of my suffering clear as day. I must already be dead.

Refusing to bear the yoke of that truth, I instead directed all my shame and hurt at the dying vampire whom I’d sired.

“Why do you get to live, but she doesn’t? Why do all of you get to persist in endlessness, possess my blood gift, but she is doomed to sleep for all eternity? Why!”

All that remained was the anguished aftershock of my tirade, and the spurting of blood that had slivered their way to the soles of my boots.

“F…forrr…give me, mmy…lord…”

“I want you to listen closely. She transcends your every breath. You will never be her.”

I compelled my estoc to sever her head.

____________

I liked it out here. At times the ocean waves would susurrate, tonight it was a thunder against the cliffs. It offered a quiet respite from my heartbreak, the inane vampire politics, and the endless blood war of the undead.

My hair whipped in the frigid windstorm, yet I felt nothing. I was a lighthouse abandoned — hollow, crepuscular — fleeting through the years devoid of purpose. There were nights where I would see her in the middle of the violent sea — so alone, so tormented — does she know? I would cross oceans of time to find her.

Something snapped.

I remained still as death, my gaze shifting calculatedly to the untimely intruder foolish enough to trespass into my castle grounds. Their steps, though fairly distant and furtive, stood little chance against my heightened hearing.

The clanging of chains reached my ears long before my sword ensnared the metal. Holding it mere inches from my face, I studied the peculiar weapon — intricate weaving of iron, spikes flared at the tip…and that leather whip.

“Simon Belmont. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save that garb for someone who gives a shit, vampire.”

I smirked at his salutation, perhaps a little more than necessary. “I see the Belmonts have a tradition.”

Unlike his forefathers, Simon had fallen out of favour with the Belmonts, insisting that vampires, regardless of their intent and relationship, are considered foe and should, at all costs, be exterminated with their bodies wrung out to dry.

“The odious horde you have sired are arrogant beyond their means. Do you not care for the turmoil they have caused? The innocent lives they have claimed?”

I no longer have the capacity to, I wanted to tell him.

“I come here not to befriend, or beg, or ask. Halt the atrocities of your vampires, or I shall finish what my grandfather so failed to do — kill you.”

“Are you threatening me, Belmont?”

Taking advantage of my affront, he wielded the Combat Cross — one I’d noticed too late — for it struck the pendant around my collar, barely missing my chest. I watched as the vial containing her blood fracture into pieces, her lifesource splattered and devoured by the earth below.

Seething, I lunged for Simon, teleporting behind him while coiling the Morningstar around his neck. He threshed around his imminent asphyxiation, blindly stabbing his dagger, attempting to find purchase on any of my organs.

The tip of his Morningstar however, managed to etch itself onto my arm, igniting an unsteady glow. It would not combust in me, for I was neither human nor demon. Still, a searing pain barelled through the recesses of my body.

I released Simon as he collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving from the lack of air. Hovering my sword above his heart, I recalled the promise I had made to Belmont.

“This is a fight for another day, Belmont. Take your weapons and leave, for I have little forbearance for charity such as now.”

Flinging a shard of the Transmission Mirror next to Simon, he was pulled into its magic before he could contend. As the mirror engulfed him in its sorcery, he glared at me with such loathing I thought it incredulous I had loved his grandparents dearly.

But it was his last words ahead of being teleported that unnerved me, roused me back to the verity of that very moment — “I know what you’re searching for, Alucard.”

I stared at the spot where Simon was, now an insignificant mass of rocks, amongst them lay fragments of my obsidian vial.

An uncanny cold snaked about my heart. Clutching at it, the hammering intensified to a booming knell, in the same manner as nights where the parish would pound at my castle doors with boulders, clamouring to burn her. My breathing soon withered to a wheeze, then a gasp, and I fell to my knees.

Without the pendant, I could feel her no longer.

What if she woke? The indefinite dangers she would face outside the castle walls…Simon…what if he knew a way to find her…to kill her…

I was sickened with fear. Haste was of the essence, but the Transmission Mirror teleported at random — there was no telling where I would end up. Trembling, I raced to ready my stallion.

I was going back to Castlevania.

Pt 1 I Pt 2

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boohorns1136439 · 3 months ago

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Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (03)

Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

The next chapter will take me much longer to finish and post because I have to go back to uni 😭🔫.

Warning: cursing, blood

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

02 <- 03 -> 04

Masterlist

Taglist

It’s fucking hurt. The warmth that had been spreading through your lower belly, enveloping your body, was shattered by a sharp pain pulsing in your head.

Disoriented, you struggled to grasp what was happening. One moment, you were lost in a fantasy of frosted berries, honey, and Todoroki, and the next, someone had slammed you against the wall. The look in his eyes made it clear—he was ready to tear you apart.

It wouldn’t be hard for him to do that, with those teeth. You had never noticed them looking so sharp before. On TV, Red Riot always came across as the friendliest hero, his wide grin and bright eyes inviting trust. He was always ready to lighten the mood with his jokes and loud laugh, the hero who went out of his way to help civilians with their everyday tasks. Everyone who met him had a soft spot for him—he truly was a vision of strength and kindness.

But now, under the glare of his red eyes, his fists clenched tightly around your collar, none of that friendliness remained. His rage was palpable, you could feel it in the way his grip tightened with every passing second, the way his chest heaved with each furious breath.

He looked like he was on the verge of exploding, and you were the target of all that fury. His lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing those razor-sharp teeth. They weren’t just sharp, they were brutal, lethal and merciless. Red Riot wasn’t just ready to beat you up—he looked like he wanted to rip you apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. The once-kind, soft-hearted hero was gone, replaced by a tsunami of anger and violence, ready to unleash it all on you.

You knew how bad this whole situation looked—being caught with your hands on a claimed Omega (in heat) by one of his packmates was always a good enough reason for them to beat your ass. But this wasn’t the case, was it? No, it wasn’t, and you were ready to tell Red Riot so. So you tried to explain yourself quickly, to not give more time for his rage to boil over.

“Red Riot, I know it looks bad, but I swear, as a doctor, I was…” Your words hurriedly left your mouth, trying to defend yourself, but before you could finish your sentence, you felt his fist land straight into your face.

You were thrown to the ground. The pain from earlier was nothing compared to this. Blood spilled out of your nose and mouth, and you could swear you heard the sickening crack of your nose breaking under his blow. Now it really fucking hurt. Fat tears ran down your face, mixing with blood.

Red Riot didn’t want any explanation, he asked for one, but he wasn’t interested in hearing it. Fear crawled down your spine as sobs of pain and horror escaped your mouth, your vision spinning as you tried to look up at him, still uncertain of what just happened. Breaking your nose didn’t calm him down, and by the way he clenched his fist, you knew he was ready to strike again.

You barely heard Todoroki’s frantic shout, calling for Red Riot, but you did notice the putrid smell of rotten berries, rotting mango, and the sharp sourness of passion fruit beneath the thick metallic scent of your own blood. For one second, your eyes flicked to Todoroki, but your attention was stolen by Red Riot. You saw his muscles harden, flesh turning into stone. It was as if the storm surrounding him had solidified, and you were trapped inside it, powerless, unable to escape. Fighting back seemed pointless in the moment, you didn’t know if you’d even stay conscious if he hit you again.

But then, Todoroki’s second attempt at calling out for Red Eiot broke through the storm. His call cut through the tension like a knife and the angry hero’s focus shifted for an instant, his rage momentarily distracted.

“Shoto, are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t come—“ His voice was thick with worry and panic.

You didn’t wait to hear the rest. You scrambled to your feet and bolted out of the room, running for your life. Your legs propelled you forward, carrying you as fast as they could. You didn’t know if Red Riot was following, and you were too terrified to look back and find out. Your vision blurred as you crashed into a medical cart outside an open room, sending its contents flying across the floor but you didn’t care, you couldn’t stop to apologize and put it back together. You couldn’t stop at all. All you could do was run.

The hallways blurred past as you sprinted, your mind a panicked mess of fear and pain. The sharp sting of your broken nose, the blood dripping onto your clothes, the pounding in your skull—it all became a distant haze as you focused on one thing: escape. You didn’t even know how you managed to find the locker room, but somehow, your trembling hands found yours locker and you grabbed your bag and car keys as fast as possible, ignoring the confused stares of the people nearby.

You sprinted toward the parking lot, and when you finally reached it, you were gasping for air, tears still streaming down your face. Your legs felt like jelly, but you kept moving, stumbling toward your car. You shoved the door open with urgency. Once inside, your hands were shaking so badly that starting the engine felt impossible. You twisted the key over and over, your heart pounding, until the car finally roared to life.

You slammed your foot on the gas and sped out of the parking lot, reckless, your mind spinning, with no care for speed limits. All that mattered was getting as far away from that place, from him, as possible.

Is this shorter than usual? I can’t really tell. I think this chapter technically has more words than the last one, though. Anyway, I know Bakugo is usually the angry, "violent" guy in fics, but I’ve always thought Kirishima would beat someone into the ground if they ever took advantage of his partner. Plus, I always felt like fics were lacking people getting their asses beat.

So, I thought, let’s beat the reader’s ass!

I guess this is the end of the prologue. After this, we’re entering the “real” story, and we’ll meet the rest of the pack (not right away, but you get the idea). I’ll also have more room to explore the reader's personality. So far, all we’ve really seen is her being professional, confused, horny, and scared 😭.

Do any of you even read these author notes? It’s okay if I’m just talking to myself here. I always like the sound of my voice (well, my writing here, but you get it).

Criticisms are always welcome !

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

02 <- 03 -> 04

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld

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qwimblenorrisstan · 3 months ago

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Found Pt. 4 | Poly!141 & Reader

Summary: You, Simon, and Price go shopping, while the two work out their problems, and you get new clothes and delicious Thai chicken.

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: arguing, yelling, cursing, but it gets resolved, cuddles

A/N: reader is starting to come out of her shell a bit, which will certainly make things more interesting…hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Johnny hadn’t come out to the Jeep yet, and for the past five minutes Simon had been about to drive away, one hand on the wheel, index finger tapping away impatiently as he scowled in the direction of the house. They both seemed almost attached at the hip more often than not. You wondered what was holding the werewolf up.

The front door swung open, but instead of Johnny and his ever-wagging tail coming out, it was Price who lumbered out. The little brown fuzzy’s barely visible on his head, which you assumed were ears, twitched as he approached the car, opened the passenger door, and hauled his body in.

The car shook ever so slightly when he pulled the door shut, slamming it loudly in a gesture that made you jump a bit.

“Where’s Johnny?”

Simon asked, his tone calm but the hint of annoyance creeping in. He raised a brow at Price, who huffed with a hint of a growl that had the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

“Said I’m gonna pull my back out choppin’ wood, told me to come with you.”

John sounded more than annoyed, huffing, his sentence trailing off with his voice growing a bit more than brusque as usual, Simon sighing out through his nostrils.

“Not like he’s wrong.”

He mumbled, putting the keys in, turning them, and starting the ignition, before Price growled deep and low. Your breath caught in your throat, muscles tensing as you scooted more away from the middle of the backseat to the right side, body curling up as you tried to focus on the moving scenery outside the tinted window, the car pulling out of the driveway and bumbling along the bumpy roads. Trees blurred into brown and orange masses as Simon sped up a bit, his and John’s conversation speeding up as well.

“Leave it, Price.”

If you were a hybrid, you might’ve been able to smell the souring of John’s scent or the hint of bitter anger that tinted it.

“You’re hardly younger than me, but those muppets don’t blink twice when you’re doing work, do they?”

A pause from Simon.

“It’s..different, Price. We’re different.”

“Yeah, how’re we different? You saying you’re better than me.”

The atmosphere thickened. You didn’t like how angry he sounded, how Simon’s knuckles were white around the wheel, how John was bordering on a growl every word. He seemed pent up. Angry about more than just what had happened today, as if this had been building for a while, longer than you’d been around to see.

Simon didn’t deny it.

“You muppets, always thinkin’ I’m getting too old for this, well I’m not. I’m not too fuckin’ old to chop wood—“

He snarled out, and your hands went to cover your ears, tears pricking your eyes. You didn’t like angry, cussing men. They brought back bad memories, things you didn’t want to think about again, not right now, if ever. Your knees curled up into your chest, and your blurry vision focused on the window.

The trees had turned into walls of rock, with a few darker spots where water was steadily dripping down, and grass crusted over with frost. The little trees that were on the top had lost all of their leaves by now, the cold chill getting to them.

It was cold in the car, too.

They didn’t have the AC on, which made sense, considering the amount of hair on John meant he didn't need much heat, and Simon’s large body produced enough on its own. Or at least you assumed.

Their argument grew a bit more heated, a few words slipping into your ears despite the hands covering them until they were both yelling at each other, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop it!”

You finally yelled, hands still covering your ears, eyes fearful and scared. John’s mouth was still open from something he’d been about to say before they both turned to glance at you and knew they’d fucked up.

Simon took one look at you through the rearview mirror and internally winced. You witnessed the entire thing, an argument that he and John had been having for years now. The old man was too stubborn to let anyone else try and take care of him, shouldering more and more, trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and getting angry when anyone tried to help him if he stumbled.

John’s anger was gone in a second, replaced with the full internal instinct to fix. His cub was upset because of him. It was his fault. He had to fix it.

Your body language alone was screaming “stay away from me, I will bite your hand off”, as was your scent, but he couldn’t just let you sit all terrified in the backseat, so he tried to calm you down just a bit.

“‘M sorry, cub. Didn’t mean to scare you,”

His voice turned from angry to soft and cooing so quickly it almost gave you whiplash, but it still worked a bit on softening the anxiety churning in your gut. Not enough for you to accept the large hand he was offering, though.

Simon looked at the rearview mirror once again, both behind the car, and then at you once more, and was hit with a sudden realization.

You were afraid, fearful, but he didn’t see any hint of surprise in your expression. You’d been in foster care so long, you’d probably seen all sorts of relationships, maybe even experienced a few, if your earlier request to visit a ‘friend’ was anything to go off of, but you probably hadn’t seen what a healthy relationship was before.

And what he and John had just showed you? That wasn’t healthy, not at all.

So he tried to think of what Gaz would do, ever the virtuous young man, always trying to mend relationships and crossing bridges before burning them completely. He’d seen it just a day ago between him and Soap. Kyle was always thinking about what the other person was thinking and feeling, what they might be going through, putting himself in someone else’s shoes.

Simon might’ve not been the best with emotions, but he could recognize the signs of a minor breakdown. Price hadn’t slept well much this week, before you’d come he’d been worried about getting the room done on time, and since then he’d been worried about you getting comfortable. His short temper made sense. And with such a small, new kid in their home, slowly becoming a member of the pack, it made sense for his protective instincts to be on overdrive, making him shoulder more responsibilities as the leader of the pack.

In fact, he hadn’t seen John this worked up in years, not even with their past fosters.

Simon could have some empathy for the man, and after growing up through his childhood with no good father figure, only his dad abusing his mother and being drunk all the time. You deserved better than what he’d had to see and much better than what he and Price were showing you.

“John.”

He interrupted the man’s cooed words, and John at the lack of nickname and the sheer tone that Simon was using. It wasn’t an unkind tone, it was soft and quiet, much less intimidating than the usual monotone and bland voice he adorned.

It caught your attention too, he could tell. His eyes remained on the road, but he could scent the subtle shift in your emotions, from the fear and worry, a bitter scent, to the shift to a calmer, softer scent. Almost like freshly done laundry, and how soft and warm it is coming out of the dryer.

“Yes?”

He was trying to stay angry, Simon could tell, but it wasn’t working.

Simon took a deep breath, trying to push down the embarrassment he already felt for what he was about to say. It felt strange to acknowledge emotions so clearly, but it was necessary, and if he had to push himself out of his comfort zone to make you comfortable, he would. He’d done better for worse people.

“I...understand that you’re stressed, and feel like we’re undermining you, but we’re just worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard, and not trusting us enough to let us help you. It’s not that any of us are better than you, we just don’t want you taking everything on your shoulders.”

He heaved a shaky breath out, eyes on the road as he pulled into the parking lot of the mall, eyes scanning for a parking spot that wasn’t taken up.

“I’m sorry,”

John finally spoke up, voice rough, but not with anger, only thick with emotion.

“I’ve just been stressed, and trying to keep myself busy. I didn’t mean to…”

His sentence trailed off as he leaned into Simon, and Simon leaned his head against him as he finally found a spot, and pulled into it.

As you sat in the back, watching, John finally pulled away from Simon a minute later, giving a little apologetic smile to you as he opened his door, moving to open yours.

“Sorry for scaring ya, cub. Let’s make it up and go get some clothes, yeah?

He offered a hand, and you found that you took it, despite having to lift your arm a bit for your hand to meet his large, calloused one. He was warm.

Simon came around after you heard him pull the keys out, lock the car, and shut his door. He took your other hand, leaving you sandwiched between the two giant men as you all approached the entrance to the mall, which was a lot of sliding glass doors marked with “Exit” and “Entrance”.

As soon as you entered, your senses were assaulted with the smells and musks of other people and perfume, not to mention delicious food and drinks, as well as bright lights from stores and flashing lights from stands selling kids’ toys. It was loud, people talking unabashedly on the phone, to their friends as they laughed and tripped over their own feet, or to their partners as they walked hand in hand. A few other children your age were there, but no humans.

It didn’t necessarily surprise you.

Simon noticed how overwhelmed you were, and he couldn’t say that he hadn’t expected it. Malls were large spaces packed full of people looking to sell things, and others rushing to buy things. Especially with how most people tended to easily be taller than you, or tower over you, he could imagine you’d be easily intimidated by that, let alone all the options of where to go.

Giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, he spoke.

“We can get clothes first, then decide from there.”

John met his eye, and nodded, silently agreeing with him. You mumbled a little “okay”, before being led along by the both of them to a nearby area in the mall that was a large clothing store, one of the bigger shopping areas than the hallways full of different, smaller stores.

“Let’s focus on winter clothes first, so jackets, scarves, gloves, pants, those sorts of things. Then we can move on to lighter wear.”

You all navigated the store, meandering around before John spotted the “Children’s clothing” sign, and you finally found the girl’s section. From there, you had to narrow that down to the human section among all sorts of hybrids.

That was the one thing you didn’t envy about hybrids, was how hard it must be to find clothing that properly fit their various parts like wings, tails, etc. There was a reason that seamstresses and embroiderers had become much more popular after hybrids really began rapidly spreading and taking over the population. The business was booming.

“What about this one?”

John asked, gesturing to a striped sweater. You could tell from a few glances that the quality wasn’t the greatest, and that it wasn’t made of real wool or fiber, probably just the type of polyester that rubbed against your skin badly. You reached a hand out, disconnecting from Simon, and rubbing against the fabric only to confirm your assumption. You shook your head.

“Itchy.”

You said simply. They tried pointing out clothes and jackets you might like to no avail, probably not understanding the concept of needing fabric to stay warm, considering most hybrids had fur to keep them warm, if not their bodies practically being furnaces.

Finally, you found the absolute perfect jacket. A hoodie that wasn’t tight around the bottom, but baggy enough to where it went down to your mid-thigh, the sleeves weren’t tight, and the hood was loose and wasn’t so heavy that it weighed the hoodie down or strangled you. The inside felt like a cloud, and it was stretchy but also firm enough to keep heat insulated.

When you finally stopped feening over the hoodie, you flipped the price tag over and winced, putting it back. It might’ve been perfect, but it was a ridiculous amount of money for a hoodie. Too much money for a hoodie.

Simon and Price exchanged a look behind your back as you went on to find other clothes, returning twenty minutes later with, as John requested, a scarf, gloves, some sweatpants, and socks. Simon scoped it all out of your arms and put it in their cart, following behind as John began looking for the clothes for lighter seasons, finding it and letting you choose your pick.

Having spent almost two hours in the one place by now, with you trying on various clothes, John said he wanted to make sure they fit right before buying them, and your mild indecisiveness as well. When it was all said and done, you had plenty of clothes for outfits throughout the year, and they checked out.

It was only after everything had been checked out that you saw it.

The hoodie.

Simon held it carefully, scanning it, before ripping the tag off with ease and handing it to you. You opened your mouth in protest at first, a bit embarrassed, but decided against saying anything as you slid it on. It fit perfectly.

It wouldn’t be very easy for either of them to hold the bags and your hand at the same time, so Simon leaned down, getting on one knee, and gesturing to his shoulders, gently picked you up by the armpit, and lifted you until you were sitting on his shoulders.

You blinked in surprise for a moment or two, but eventually, the shock wore off. The internal cringing after seeing a couple go “awwww” at the sight of you, or a group of women giggling to themselves, seeing Simon carrying you, didn’t though.

John noticed, a little smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t mind anyone noticing what good parents they were to the newest member of their pack, it actually made his chest swell with pride.

“You hungry?”

Simon asked, tilting his head a bit to the side to catch a glimpse of you, just so he knew you had heard him. You gave a little nod, being absolutely starving by now, and he chuckled.

“Me too, kid. Let’s see how much we can convince Price to spend on food.”

You’d both convinced him to spend quite a lot on food, apparently, as you both sat down, eating Thai chicken that tasted scrumptious. You devoured it, eating faster than even Simon, and Price was steadily laughing as he watched you somehow shove more food down your throat.

“Save some for the rest of us,”

Price chuckled, watching as you swallowed more chicken, looking up at him with a look more feral than any hybrid he’d seen, before pouting in what he assumed was a joking way.

“I’m just a girl.”

You said, and Simon’s deep, raspy laughs started up at that. He apparently found it funny. You continued devouring your food, filling your stomach until you were all full, something you weren’t used to from your past foster parents.

Price was enjoying his food as well as you all sat at the Food Court, in a little booth table. The lady working the shop had given extra-large servings after taking one look at Simon and Price, knowing big men like them would need plenty of food. She probably hadn’t known how starved you’d been, and by now, you were too hungry to care about eating nicely in front of them.

There was sauce on your lips and your fingers, but you didn’t care, Price wiping some from his beard, Simon using a napkin to wipe some of it from his mouth, before folding that napkin over, and wiping it off your face. You looked at him, a smile tugging at your lips. He tried to conceal his smirk but failed as you burst into giggles. Price laughed again.

After finally finishing off all of the chicken, both you and Simon were in a food coma by now, Price had to drag both of you out of the mall and into the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. You and Simon lagged behind a little bit, before you broke out into a run to the car, yelling a message for Simon.

“I call shotgun!”

“You can’t just—“

He sputtered, racing after you, but too late as you yanked the passenger door open, collapsing into the seat as you shut the door and locked it manually. He raised a brow, but you buckled up, securing your seat with a badly suppressed smile.

He opened the back door, climbed in, and stretched out on all three of the seats in the back, yawning as he didn’t even bother to buckle up.

You and John both looked back at him, you giggling quietly as Simon’s lips twitched, John just shaking his head in fond exasperation.

The drive home was quiet, other than the low-volume music playing in the background as you curled up in the large seat, watching the window, eyelids heavy, but you resisted the siren's call of sleep for most of the car ride, other than a little five-minute nap, or maybe a little bit longer than five minutes.

Or maybe you fell asleep almost the entire car ride, only waking up when you heard Johnny’s excited voice, followed by hushing, and you shifted around, only to find yourself cradled in John’s arms.

“Quiet, she’s sleeping.”

Kyle murmured, and Johnny whined, the sound almost piercing to your ears.

“No, she ain’t—“

And then you slowly blinked awake, finding yourself being shifted from John’s arms to Johnny’s, warm muscle gently caging you in as soft fur rubbed gently against your skin, tickling a bit. His chest rumbled with a deep purr, one that even had you melting further into him, despite not being the same species. It somehow still affected you.

You heard his heavy footsteps thud down the hall, until your bedroom door creaked open, and the soft blankets in your bed surrounded you now instead of him.

You shifted around a bit, finding a comfortable angle and spot, listening to his quiet breathing and loud purring as he kissed you on the forehead, murmuring something so low that you couldn’t hear it, before leaving the room, leaving you to fall asleep.

Tags:

@theartgremlin

@roastyyytoastyyy

@simonrileysown

@thriving-n-jiving

@angeldemon28

@purple-moonbeam

@d-oo-t

@epochal-oracle

@picklehat3r

@starandcloud

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bxyp · 10 months ago

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GENERAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS / Jujutsu Kaisen | 呪術廻戦

SYNOPSIS. General descriptions of the characters if they were in a relationship.

「 SFW + NSFW 」 separated for two parts.

SFW > safe for work; does not contain any sexual content and/or violence.

NSFW > not safe for work; contain sexual content and/or violence.

WARNING/S. GENDER NEUTRAL READER. violence, death (mention), sex, blowjob, oral sex, oral giving (reader), exhibitionism (technically), mutual masturbation, male organs mentioned (cock, dick and etc.).

CHARACTER/S. > Itadori Yuji, Maki Zen'in, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Uraume.

W.C. > 1.4k

𝙁𝙀𝙈 𝘿𝙉𝙄 & 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄 | 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙁𝙐𝙇 18+ 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙐𝙏

Itadori Yuji | 虎杖悠仁

「 SFW 」 PRE SHIBUYA ARC | Yuji would undoubtedly rank among the epitomes of an ideal boyfriend. Cute, cheerful and optimistic—a perfect boyfriend. With his extroverted nature, you will have to deal with his bursts of energy as well as times when he will be particularly affectionate. Picture him as the embodiment of a loyal golden retriever—a true 'puppy boyfriend' in every sense. While Yuji's extroverted tendencies may manifest in bursts of lively enthusiasm, he also possesses moments of profound tenderness, enveloping his partner in warmth and affection. He gracefully inspires his partner to emerge from their cocoon, gently coaxing them towards a world of shared joy and adventures.

POST SHIBUYA ARC | Yuji carries the weight of profound loss, having witnessed the death of numerous friends. Scarred by these harrowing experiences, his instinctive reaction is to protect those he cares about. Consequently, he may inadvertently resort to pushing away those closest to him—a misguided attempt rooted in love and a genuine desire to protect. So you would need some time to reasure him that you aren't leaving any time soon…

Maki Zen'in | 禪院真希

「 SFW 」 PRE SHIBUYA ARC | Maki personifies resilience, bearing the burden of her own burdens and shouldering everything with unwavering strength. Yet beneath her reserved façade lies a heart that beats with deep care, though she may be hesitant to admit it openly. For your sake, Maki tries to break down the barriers she has carefully erected, which is a testament to the depth of her affection. Gently showing vulnerability. Every crack in her steely resolve serves as a testament to the strength of her affection, a silent plea for understanding and from you acceptance.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Maki finds herself haunted by the tragic loss of her twin sister, a wound that cuts deep into her heart and soul. Determined to shield herself from further heartache, Maki naturally avoids getting too close to people emotionally. She puts up strong walls around herself, using them like a shield to stop herself from the sorrowful of potential loss. She is trying to push you away, fearing that the death may once again claim the person she holds most dear.

Ryomen Sukuna | 両面宿儺

「 SFW 」 PRE CULLING GAME ARC | Beware of the King of Curses, because kindness is generally rare in his heart. Sukuna, with his menacing appearance and chilling aura, is not one to easily succumb to the tender embrace of romance. In his world, love is a foreign concept, a concept he has never shared or felt the need to develop. If Sukuna feels attracted to you in a way that is beyond his understanding, don't expect his true emotions to be revealed quickly. Love, with all its complexities and vulnerabilities, is uncharted territory for him. He is a mystery, shrouded in frost, his heart covered in layers of impenetrable ice. Patience becomes your greatest ally in unraveling the enigma that is Sukuna. With each step forward, you tread cautiously, mindful of the thorns that line the path to his heart.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Even if Sukuna is wary of his newfound emotions, don't expect him to give you special treatment just because you've captured his interest. Sukuna is not sentimental and does not provide frivolous favors. He demands proof of your worth, demanding that you demonstrate your character and earn his respect through your actions. His admiration is a hard-won treasure bestowed upon those who prove themselves capable of navigating the treacherous.

「 NSFW 」 THE HEIAN ERA | Sukuna is definitely not an easy lover. He will squeeze the maximum out of you. Using your body, sometimes even without your consent, because in his understanding, at the moment when you gave him your heart, you also gave him your whole body, letting him do any indecency. He is not a pervert and prefer to do things the old and simple way. Although sometimes he asks Uraume to stretch you, since Sukuna’s cocks are also bigger than usual, so careful preparation is required so that you are not simply torn in a halves. There is hardly any tenderness in this process. Most often, this is just an impulse in which he can fulfill exclusively his desires, literally grinding into you until he himself is satisfied. So expect long nights since he got stamina and a lot of stress to take out (on you).

(yes, I'm a believer that Sukuna got two dicks, don't blame me for that.)

Toji Fushiguro | 伏黒甚爾

「 SFW 」 DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | Toji is plagued by deep-seated commitment issues, a restless wanderer who flits from one fleeting romance to another with reckless abandon. His primary focus lies in material gain, money, with little regard for the emotional entanglements that accompany lasting relationships. For him, love is but a passing fancy. However, amidst his nomadic lifestyle, there exists a rare exception—a woman (Megumi's mother) who once managed to capture his fleeting attention. Though elusive, the memory of her lingers in the recesses of his mind, a testament to the possibility of a deeper connection.

DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | It's going to take a lot of time and thinking for him to figure out his feelings and realize that he wants things that aren't just about money or quick fun. He needs to face his fears and doubts, and think about the idea that maybe, just maybe, life is about more than just work as a mercenary or have fun for a short time.

「 NSFW 」 DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | Toji is a selfish lover, always putting his own desires first when it comes to being close with someone. He's used to getting what he wants whenever he wants it, and he doesn't feel bad about going after what feels good. His needs come first because he's spent his life focused on pleasing himself and getting things right away. Underneath that self-centered exterior, there's a lot going on. Even though he's all about his own pleasure, he's got a way of being gentle yet strong when he's with someone intimately. His touch leaves a lasting impression on the person he's with. He can gently stroke your hair while your lips are at the base of his dick. If you have difficulty breathing, maybe stop and not fist your hair in his hand, using your throat for his pleasure, while you drolling all over his cock…

Uraume | 裏梅

「 SFW 」 PRE CULLING GAME ARC | Uraume is an embodiment of unwavering loyalty, their existence intricately intertwined with the service and devotion to their master, a bond forged over countless centuries. For them, love was a foreign concept, relegated to the annals of distant memory as they dutifully fulfilled their role. When feelings of attraction begin to stir within Uraume, they find themselves grappling with emotions long dormant, their heart encased in the frost of ages past. The idea of love is a foreign and unfamiliar terrain.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | As Uraume's feelings blossom into an undeniable force, they find themselves faced with a daunting decision—to confront their master and seek permission to pursue the depths of their newfound love. This is no small feat, for their allegiance to their master is unwavering, and the prospect of disobeying even a perceived slight is unthinkable. In their plea, Uraume makes it clear that they hold their master's wishes above all else, and they would never dare to act in defiance of their authority. Yet, they cannot deny the overwhelming pull of their emotions, and they humbly request the opportunity to pursue love while remaining ever faithful to their master's will.

「 NSFW 」 DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Urauma's devotion does not end with their master's permission to love. They would definitely ask permission to have a more personal relationship with you. Also, if the King of Curses told Urauma to give your body to him for pleasure, Urauma would take it as an incredible compliment since even their master liked your body. But besides this, Uraume isn't so cold in terms of sex life; they pay more attention to your pleasure than to their own. Usually your sexual contact involves mutual masturbation, for Uraume this is quite personal. Since for them, their body is like a temple and letting another person in is quite difficult for them.. Their movements are careful but quite demanding, not devoid of feelings.

MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3 | TWITTER

𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔰𝔱𝔶𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯?

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call-sign-shark · 2 months ago

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Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: A great healer, a terrifying heartrender, you are both the disease and the cure. With such a reputation, living on the run quickly becomes necessary for survival. When General Kirigan, ruler of the Shadow Fold, sets his eyes on you, he doesn't see just a weapon, but the key to his dark ambitions. And, most importantly, the echo to his shadows.

Words: 2.5k

TW: Mention of prostitution, child SA and murder, reader is physically described.

Part I - Keep Moving, Little Girl

Masterlist || Next

The Little Palace was veiled in an eerie calm, which wasn’t very usual for a place that crowded by both young promising Grishas and renowned, experienced ones. The luxurious wall, bathed in the golden light of dying embers, gave an almost supernatural aesthetic to the place. General Aleksander Kirigan sat at his desk, his fingers steepled and his black eyes fixed on the fragile flicker of a single candle before him. The little flame danced, its body undulating as it struggled to keep the surrounding darkness away from the little bubble of warm light it created. The room was silent, save for the crackle of the hearth a bit further, and yet, despite this silence, the general’s mind was far from quiet.

He had heard the rumors countless times over the past few months – it had started with nothing more than vague accounts of a few people found dead in a mysterious and gruesome way, but the narrative slowly turned into a monstrous witch, her hair as white as frost, leaving death and blood in her wake. At first, he dismissed them. Ravka was rife with tales of rogue Grisha, exaggerated to feed the fears of peasants and nobles alike. A chimera created by children to tell scary stories, or skillfully crafted clichés to create a deep-ingrained fear of Grisha by politics. But the more he ignored them, the more the whispers persisted: they spread like wildfire and grew darker with each retelling. The most recent account had given him a pause though: a Heartrender, they claimed, whose power was unlike anything ever seen. From what has been reported, the creature could control men as if they were marionettes, forcing them to turn on each other in a grotesque display of violence. One so-called survivor claimed that, with only a few movements of her hands, he saw his colleague forced to turn the barrel of his gun to his temples and shoot himself a bullet right through his brain. Aleksander had raised a brow at the statement:

Such abilities should not exist. Not without the cursed used of Jurda Parem.

Aleksander’s jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair. If the rumors were true, this woman was no ordinary Grisha. She was a weapon – an unrefined, dangerous force that needed to be claimed before it destroyed itself or got destroyed. And if she truly possessed the kind of power described, that little white-haired heartrender could be either a great asset to his cause or an uncontrollable threat that needed to be neutralized. Or rather, a problem that needed to be resolved.

The shadows around him stirred, as if sensing his thoughts, their tendrils coiling in anticipation. He, who was often too absorbed by his own plans, surprised himself when he realized that his mind raced through the topic of that wild sorceress, weighing risks and rewards, battling between curiosity and schemes. However, one thing had become certain: he could no longer ignore the whispers. He had to find her. Kirigan rose from his seat, the folds of his pitch black kefta sweeping behind him as he crossed the room with hastened steps. He opened the door to find Ivan, who was waiting just outside, his stoic expression as adamant as ever.

“I need you to gather a small team,” The general said without preamble nor explanation. His voice was long and commanding, but Ivan could sense that he also seemed lost in his thoughts, “We’re leaving at first light.”

The tall Corporalki tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly – the only other expression he had in his palette. “May I ask for what purpose, General?”

“There’s a woman,” Kirigan replied, his tone laced with intrigue but also something darker Ivan couldn’t really pinpoint. “A Heartrender whose power surpasses anything we’ve encountered… At least if the stories told are true.” He paused, his lips curling into a faint and slightly calculating smile, “I must say that these latest accounts intrigued me. If she is what they say she is, she could change everything.”

“And if she’s not?” Ivan asked, his skepticism carefully measured. As much as he trusted General Kirigan, the tall Ravkan man with a stern face couldn’t help doubting. He was a man of facts – not of silly rumors.

Aleksander’s eyes darkened, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting in their dizzying depths. Eyes so black that no one could distinguish the pupil from the iris, “Then we’ll ensure the stories end with us.” He turned back toward his desk without additional explanations, his mind already plotting the route, the approach, and the questions he would ask her. Hair white as the purest snow, eyes as frozen as the deadliest ice desert…There was a part of him that wondered if she even existed, if this was nothing more than another ghost tale spun by frightened villagers. But another part – the darker, sicker and more desperate part – felt the faint pull of something undeniable. He wanted her to be real.

He needed her to be real.

In the back of his mind, General Aleksander Kirigan thought he could almost hear her, like a faint hum carried on the wind. The monster they spoke of wasn’t just some distant threat. She was out there waiting, somewhere in the Ravkan snow, all alone and vulnerable – and she didn’t even know she already belonged to him.

Your shrill scream resounded in the bedroom, bathed in the soft and muted light of Ravkan mornings. Confused, your chest heaved as though you had run for miles even though you had just woken up. Your body was damp, covered in a thin layer of sweat, some locks of hair sticking to your temples.

If there was one thing that plagued your dreams, turning them into terrific nightmares, it was that smell.

The Menagerie smelled of desperation, as Tante Heleen liked to call it. Or rather the awful combination of fun fair treats, sweat, and a dash of discreet, but still noticeable, fragrances of blood. It clung to the air just like the cheap perfume the girls were forced to wear, a sickly-sweet mask that tried hard to hide the rot that lay beneath. One full year had passed since you had escaped from this hellish place and yet, the impression this foul smell was still clinging to your skin and hair, no matter how roughly you washed or how scorching-hot the showers you took were, remained. You had known it your entire life, ever since you were left at its gate as a child. As much as you tried, you couldn’t forget the way your tiny and cold hands tightened their grip around Tante Heleen’s skirt as the woman had dragged you inside, her soft voice cooing false kindness. Like a butcher leading a cattle through the death-smelling corridors of a slaughterhouse.

“You’ll grow into something beautiful,” Heleen had said, glancing at your long white hair while your own eyes surveyed the golden bars at the windows, though you were too young to understand why they were there as well as the malice behind the brothel Madam’s words, “A perfect White Tiger, ma petite chérie.” But the cruel truth was that beauty didn’t save anyone in the Menagerie. It only made you more of a prize to be shown off, sold to the highest bidder and then both used and abused. Beauty was nothing but a poison, a weapon Heleen turned against its bearer in this place made of gilded cages and broken spirits.

By your pre-teens, you had made quite a reputation: despite growing up in this foul nightmare, Tante Heleen never managed to break you entirely. Mastering the art of silence and deadly stares, your unyielding demeanor made you a source of fascination. The bruises on your porcelain skin faded away as quickly as the tears you refused to shed, never succumbing to the horrors clients would make you go through. The same clients who were willing to pay obscene sums not just to touch you but to try and tame you. The men who came for you were often the ones who wanted to conquer that defiance. The ones who wanted to make you scream. Still, you never gave them satisfaction. Worse, they often left more bruised than you because you did fight like a tigress. Even if they ended up overcoming you, your ice-cold eyes would bore into them, frozen and sharp, making even the most depraved feel as though they were the ones who were soiled. No, it wasn’t your beauty alone that drew attention; it was the air around you, heavy with something dangerous.

If being honest with yourself, you had to admit that most of the other girls at the Menagerie didn’t like you. Sometimes, you would catch them whispering about you, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jealousy, but most of the time it was in fear. Why? Because you were eerie. Unsettling, the least. Because you were something else with your pale skin – paler than the Fjerda wolf girl – and long white hair. With the slim hourglass figure and small height, which contrasted far too much with the hatred that burned in your void-like pupils. Besides, you never did much to befriend them: you didn’t weep after being summoned, didn’t cling to anyone for comfort and almost never gave yours to soothe the other poor animals’ pain. The only one you tolerated was the Suli Lynx.

The unsease the others would feel around you only worsened when they discovered that you were a Heartrender. Frightening abilities that manifested themselves one night in an uncontrollable outburst, leading to someone’s brutal death.

The nightmare you had lingered, its remnants jagged and raw. The menagerie’s cages, the laughters, the sensation of hands that burned like brands – they had all dissolved into the room’s silence. “Memories. They are nothing but memories” you told yourself, yet the weight of your not-so-far-away past pressed against your chest like iron shackles.

“Miss, you shall leave the room by eight o’clock.” A voice spoke behind the thick wooden door of the bedroom you rented – a small barren room you had found shelter in for the night. It was no more than a shabby inn, with walls cracked and floorboards uneven. You took off the thin, tattered blanket from you and swung your legs over the side of the bed to sit on the mattress for a moment, your head in your hands. Your fingers trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the residues of the dream.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled, staring blankly at your boots sat by the door through your slim fingers, and the satchel rested on the old rocking chair, packed and ready to leave. Never unpacking, that was one of the rules you followed since you fled from the Menagerie. Through the frosted window the snow was falling steadily. Frosty flakes swirled like restless ghosts in the early morning gloom, covering the world outside with a white coat that muffled every little sound. All of them except the relentless thumping of your heart, which threatened to burst your ribcage open.

The floor groaned under your weight as you stood and moved towards the small basin by the windows. Almost mechanically, you splashed your face with icy water, hoping for the chill to chase away the remnants of sleep. When you raised your head to take a look at the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at you was a stranger’s — diaphanous, long straight hair as pale as the snow, and eyes frighteningly empty. A doll’s face, your clients said. But no doll could house the kind of fury that simmered in your cursed blood, right?

You turned away, hating what you saw. Minutes later, you were dressed, your boots were laced, and your long dark cloak pulled tightly around you. When you reached for the door, you caught yourself hesitating only briefly… Maybe you could stick around for a while this time… No.

Keep moving.

The cold hit you immediately as you stepped outside. The wind bit you through your cloak like a knife with such virulence that you couldn’t help clenching your jaw. And yet, you welcomed it, let it numb you. Snow crunched beneath the sole of your boots as you walked on a little road, endless and uncertain. With one quick movement, you pulled your hood up and buried your face against the wind, going forward with determined steps. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t stop moving away from the Menagerie. Not yet. The world might feel vast and empty, but at least there was something usually peaceful in this isolation. Not this morning though.

Even in this desolation, you couldn’t share the unpleasant feeling that you were being watched. It was subtle – a whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your neck, making your hairs rise. As stupid as it sounded, you quickly glanced over your shoulder at the empty snowy forest behind you. Nothing stirred, no sound broke the quiet save for the howl of the wind… And still, the feeling lingered, like a cold thread winding through your thoughts. In a reflex you couldn’t quite control, your hand tightened around your cloak’s collar, not knowing if it was to hide from the cold or from these unseen pair of eyes by shrinking into your coat.

Keep moving.

Above the faraway howl of the wind, a faint whisper seemed to hum at the edges of your senses. It resonated, too soft to be real, but to real to be a hallucination. You frowned as you walked faster, all your senses in alert. It wasn’t words, only a presence, dark and vast, like shadows stretching beyond the horizon. Keep moving! You clenched your fists and tried your best to shove the thought away. It was certainly some kind of paranoia that had gotten into you, fed by lack of sleep, proper food and shelter. A part of you rationalized, telling itself that no one had ever found you yet, and no one would – despite the little… troubles you created on your way. Crystal eyes fixed on the road ahead, your steps quickened as if you could outrun the unease that was gnawing at your mind.

But far away, very far away in the distance, a man dressed in black was studying a map. His gloved finger, covered in the finest leather, hovered over a region marked in red by himself. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if doing so wasn’t common to him.

“She’s close”, he murmured to the shadows with a voice soft and filled with a quiet satisfaction.

“Are you sure?” They whispered back

“I can feel her,” He replied, black eyes riveted onto the horizon.

Soon, he thought,

Very soon.

Please reblog and/or comment if you liked it. 🖤

taglist: @augustwookie

#the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #ben barnes x reader #general kirigan #the darkling #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #shadow and bone #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #darkling x you #Darkling smut #Darkling x OC #Shadow and bone oc #grishaverse #the grisha series

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hyukascampfire · 2 months ago

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˓꒰ 𝓣𝑯𝑬 𝓣𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑽𝑬 𝓓𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝓞𝓯 𝓒𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑺 ꒱٫

﹙🕯️﹚ hi everybody!! welcome to ashlynn’s 12 days of christmas. i think this will be a super fun way to get into the christmas spirit and explore a bunch of different ways to tell a christmas story! ࣭ ˓ ࣪. ׄ⸝⸝℘

˓ ࣪ ( 📜 ) find a spot by the fireplace! join the event taglist here.

──── 𝓖uidlines

𐔌𝟷. half of the gifts will be requests, which you can send here, and the other half will be gifts wrapped by me! so, 6 requests and 6 of my own. 𐔌𝟸. the requests have got to be christmas/holiday theme! new years is also welcomed. they can be smutty of course, i welcome that with open arms!! 𐔌𝟹. these are going to be more like drabbles. some might definitely end up longer, but i want to release TSFAWC on christmas as the final day! 𐔌𝟺. you can request any member from either txt or ateez!

‧𝑜n 𝓉he 𝒻irst 𝒹ay of 𝒸hristmas, 𝓂y 𝓉rue 𝓁ove gave to 𝓂e

𝒜 partridge in a pear tree 𝜗 c.sb

milk with your cookies? ･ anon request

too excited to sleep on christmas night, the last thing you might've expected was to find a very tall, very handsome man with arms full of gifts broken into your home. also, for him to claim himself to be santa claus.

𝒯wo turtle doves 𝜚 c.yj & c.bg

krampusnacht ･ @thetxtdevil & @miukuui

krampus, creatures of european folklore, come one winter’s night every year with exactly one duty: to punish the naughty, who they are said to either eat or drag down to the hell from which they came. assigned to you this year are two of krampus' most revered helpers. they adore their purpose. come december 5th, they make their march through the snow and toward the sweetest treat that they might ever have the opportunity to crack.

𝒯hree french hens 𝜗 h.k

velvet fuzz ･ anon request

it’s strange that you come home to a teary-eyed, pink-nosed man outside your home while coming home on christmas eve. even stranger that he’s got antlers sprouting up from his head.

𝒻our calling birds 𝜚 h.k

the frost remembers ･ @aduh0308

artblock has one weakness: creation. it just so happens that you decide to make your final hurrah, the greatest work of your life, out of winter’s most gentle gift. and, the frost remembers.

𝒻ive golden rings 𝜗 c.sb

gift wrapping ･ @biteyoubiteme

it’s a shame that soobin has to work on christmas eve, but coming home to a fire-toasted home and his little family is enough to make up for it.

𝒮ix geese a-laying 𝜚 k.th

it will come back ･ anon request

it’s a small world. you knew this, but you came to really believe it when you ran into an old classmate at the grocery store on a snowy vacation. how strange is that? even more so when he shows up once more at the door of your cabin, frozen from the cold and needing your help.

𝒮even swans a-swimming 𝜗 c.bg

at swan lake ･ @hmusunoo

as both equals and opposites, white swan and black swan, it is paramount that you and choi beomgyu do not touch. the curse of your natures did not even make exception for incidental brushes. that was never an issue for you—not until the day the prince took it upon himself to break every rule you’d ever known.

ℰight maids a-milking 𝜚 OT5/c.bg

let it snow! ･ @hmusunoo

choi beomgyu and you are best at one thing: getting on yeonjun's nerves. going out for a snowball fight on the first winter snow, he has the perfect plan.

𝒩ine ladies dancing 𝜗 h.k

@hyukaluver

this fic is getting revisited next christmas!

𝒯en lords a-leaping 𝜚 c.yj

@izzyy-stuff

this fic is getting revisited next christmas!

ℰleven pipers piping 𝜗 c.yj

@prince-jjae

this fic is getting revisited next christmas!

𝒯welve drummers drumming 𝜚 k.th

ginger & snap ･ @thetxtdevil

you were the last person taehyun expected to appear on his doorstep. sweet and fluffy and oh-so-proper; he never thought he’d see you again. but... there you stand. and, much to his own chagrin, he fears that nobody else could get him more bothered.

happy holidays, from me! here’s my gift to you all for welcoming me so kindly. (ｰｰ;)

#꒰🥮꒱ ࣭ ٫ 𝒜𝘚𝘏𝘓𝘠𝘕𝘕’𝘚 ⒓ 𝒟𝘈𝘠𝘚 𝒪𝘍 𝒞𝘏𝘙𝘐𝘚𝘛𝘔𝘈𝘚 #꒰📦꒱ ── ࣭events #txt #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt smut #txt ff #txt fanfiction #txt fluff #txt scenarios #txt fic #txt post #txt yeonjun #txt kai #txt soobin #txt taehyun #txt beomgyu

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cutiecusp · 6 months ago

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One last call.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x König x Reader.

TW. Talks of death, rivalry, filthy language, angst, betrayal, an established relationship, NOT a HOA! kissing, mild inappropriate boundary crossing. MDNI! (Also, I couldn't find the credits to this image, if someone does, lemme know!)

You were bleeding out.

A mission gone wrong.

Bad Intel means you were the only one left alive.

Hiding behind a crate, you manage to drag your body out of the snow, using the wood as a shield from the elements. Teeth chattering, you call Simon, your ex fiance.

"Ghost." He answers.

The breath gets punched out of you by the cold, so you take a minute to gather your breath, and your thoughts.

"Si." You murmur, just loud enough he can hear you.

"Why are you calling me?" He answers bluntly. Your relationship has been rocky for months, missed dinners, birthdays, missed milestones, the anger issues after a tough deployment... You had regretfully called things off before this deployment.

"I.. I got hit, Si. Dodgy Intel." You explain, pain low in your body.

You hear him grip the phone in his hand, his voice gruff.

"Fuck! I can get Price to get Nikolai-"

You interrupt him, wincing as you shake your head.

"No, It'll be too late, Si. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"I'm on my way." Came the clipped reply.

You let out a dry chuckle.

"Always so bossy."

You pause, your breathing shallow.

You manage to roll onto your back, your eyes glossy with tears.

"Sorry, we never got to fix this." You say softly.

A gunshot rings out in the silence, before heavy footsteps crunch in the snow.

"I'm not alone." You whisper.

"Stay on the line, love. Don't leave me." Simon replies.

Over the next few minutes, the sound of singular gunshots ring through the snowy compound. A single pair of boots crunch through the deep snow that's piling up on the ground.

"Whoever it is, they are making sure people are dead." You whisper, fear taking over you as you realise you can't move, your injuries won't allow you to escape quickly.

Simons heart sinks.

"Play dead, hide in the snow, stay alive till I come for you, I'm getting in the chopper now.. please love. I'm coming."

All you can do is lie there, tears frosting down your cheeks as you realise you are next. The door to the storage room you are next to is kicked open, but you are silent.

Large footsteps sealed your fate as the imposing figure spots your boots.

"Oh, I forgot one." Came a thick accent, causing you to freeze.

"Ah, a little maus... far away from home."

He kicks your boot, pain throbbing through your body as you swallow a scream.

"Such a pretty one, too.." in your eyeline, you see a behemoth of a man, a hood covering his face, blood staining his entire front. He pauses when he sees your face.

"Ah, I've been looking for you."

Fear grips you, but you dare not move.

Your phone falls from your hand as he stands on your wrist, and your eyes finally meet his. Deeply dark, crazed and focused on you.

"Who's there with you, love?" You hear Simon say over the phone.

"Ah, Geist..." the masked man calls out.

"König?" Splutters the reply.

"In the flesh."

"Leave her out of this!" Simon yells, his voice loud through the call.

König laughs, squatting over you, pulling you by your tactical vest to pull you flush against him, his eyes roaming your body.

"She's a pretty one, would make such a lovely trophy." He calls out, antagonising Simon more.

He traces a gloved hand down your cheek, and you can't look away from him. His body is pressed tight against yours, and you can feel every inch of him.

"She's pretty broken, too. It looks like my men did their job in getting her to me."

Your eyes widen, he was behind this?

"Why?" You whisper out, cursing your shaky voice.

"Why? He took everything from me, my wife, my future... so I'm here to repay the favour. An eye for an eye, you call it?"

He removes his helmet, uncovering his face, scarred and war torn, pale and seething.

"Beg for your life, I want him to suffer like i did."

You shake your head, refusing to play his game.

"Don't touch her!" Simon roars down the phone.

"I'm on my way to you, and I'll finish what I started." He continues.

König laughs dryly.

You try and pull away, pulling his fingers off your vest. He grips harder, forcing you closer, his breath warming your cheek.

"I like a struggle, little lamb." He warns, his eyes deadly cold. You pause, your body limp.

"Ah, there's still some fire in you. I see why he likes you." He pulls out his pistol, the metal shining in the low light.

"I won't tell you again. Beg."

You spit at him, his cheek coated in your fluids. Scoffing, he swipes it from his cheek and brings it to his lips.

"So. Fucking. Defiant."

His gloved hand slaps your cheek hard before pressing his fingers into them, tilting your chin up, demanding him to look at you. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, surprisingly soft. Marking his territory, claiming a victory.

"I didn't want to do this, but he left me no choice. I wanted you for myself. I even tried recruiting you to my team a few times, but you were his.." he spits.

"Now, I want to give you the opportunity yourself. Come with me. I'll get you medical treatment. I'll give you a good life. Or you can die in the snow, I'll make it quick."

You hesitate. You weren't ready to die. You had unfinished business with Simon. But you were tired of being second to everything, tired of making excuses for him, tired of being let down. Your vision was starting to get spotty, and you knew this was the biggest choice of your life.

You look at König, and realise you two were the same. Your lives had been taken apart by a common denominator.

His eyes soften. He nods, understanding your unspoken answer. He picks up the phone, addressing his rival for the last time.

"I won." He says simply, while shooting into the wooden crate behind you, the loud gunshot echoing the painful cry from the phone.

Hanging up, he looks down at you, your shocked gaze never leaving his.

He gathers you in his arms, striding back to his vehicle.

"Time for a new life, little lamb."

Your eyes flutter as your body relaxes for the first time in what feels like forever. Almost missing the way he snaps a picture of you, sending it to Simon via your phone.

"An eye for an eye. She's mine now."

...........................

A/N I wasn't sure about this one. I'm not good at angst, but I hope I did the idea justice! Back to matchmaker later! Xxxx

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations

@evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon riley #ghost #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #konig #konig headcanons #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x y/n

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winxanity-ii · 4 months ago

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TOUCH IT

ship: gojo x fem!empath!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v, fingering); overstimulation word count: 7.0k (omg, i forgot to post this; it was originally supposed to be 2-parts but i just let it all stay together 🥹long fic again, i promise kast time jajaja... ) A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The strongest sorcerer to ever live, in all the heavens and the earth, feared by cursed spirits alike, was… bored.

Lounging in his seat, Gojo Satoru let out a low hum, his head tipped back lazily as the council droned on and on about his newest mission.

The weight of the room was thick with tension, but none of it seemed to touch him. His fingers tapped a careless rhythm on the armrest, legs spread out in front of him, exuding a carelessness that bordered on irreverence.

"…growing threat…potentially catastrophic…dangerous sorcerer…" The words buzzed around his head like an annoying fly he had no intention of swatting away.

He exhaled through his nose, continuing his little hum as the head councilman's voice grew more insistent. The man's brows were knitted together, speaking with all the gravity that someone in his position ought to muster.

But it was all white noise to Satoru—at least, until—

"Gojo."

A beat.

"Gojo, this is serious. Pay attention..." The councilman's voice sliced through the monotony, sharp enough to make him lazily shift his head to the side.

Slowly, Satoru turned his head, letting his neck roll as he turned his attention to the source of the command. His eyes, usually hidden behind his shades, seemed to sharpen with the motion, focusing like a hawk about to strike.

Even through the dark lenses, the icy intensity of his gaze bore down on the man. His smile stayed in place—easy, almost playful—but his stare was dead.

Empty.

It was a predator's look, concealed beneath the mask of casual indifference.

A tremor rippled through the room. The councilmen around him shifted in their seats, unease crawling up their spines as they suddenly remembered exactly who they were addressing.

The strongest. The untouchable. The one who smiled but never truly revealed his hand.

"So..." Satoru's voice was deceptively light, a mocking tilt to his words as he spoke. "You want me to take out this 'big bad' or whatever, yeah? Because they're, like, super dangerous and might cause some, I dunno, world-ending chaos?" He let the sentence drag, his smile never faltering, but his eyes remained locked on the councilman like a wolf sizing up its prey. "That about sum it up?"

The councilman, clearly rattled, swallowed hard. His voice faltered as he stammered out a weak, "Y-yes, correct."

Satoru sighed, long and exaggerated, before standing up in one smooth motion. His towering frame unfolded effortlessly, drawing every eye in the room.

Stretching his arms above his head, he dragged a hand through his snowy hair, letting out a groan as though this entire affair was just a mild inconvenience to him. "Alright, alright," he drawled, adjusting his shades as he flashed them another easy grin. "Let's just get this over with."

You were carefully decorating the last of the cupcakes, smoothing the frosting into perfect swirls, when the familiar ding of the bakery bell rang through the back. "Just a minute!" you called out, wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist.

It was just you on the morning shift today—your coworker had called out last minute, promising to take your afternoon shift so you wouldn't have to pull a double.

Not something you were unfamiliar with, but still, it left you scrambling to deal with the shop alone.

Your fingers were still a little sticky with frosting, and you knew there were probably a few smudges on your face, but you couldn’t keep a customer waiting.

Quickly, you smoothed your apron down, pushing through the swinging door that led to the front of the shop.

As you stepped behind the counter, the first thing you noticed was a figure crouched down, examining the glass display case where rows of colorful cupcakes, cakes, and pastries were lined up neatly.

From your angle, you could only see their side profile—a tall, lean figure, slightly hunched as they squatted low, eyes fixed on the sugary treats.

You scurried behind the register, hastily plastering on your customer service smile. "Hi! How can I help you—?" Your sentence trailed off, the words drying up in your throat as the figure slowly rose to full height, straightening out.

Your hand froze mid-motion as you adjusted your glasses, your face warming with an instant, involuntary blush. Standing before you was quite possibly the most striking person you'd ever seen.

His hair was the first thing to catch your eye—white as freshly fallen snow, a stark contrast against the black suit that clung to his lithe, muscled frame. He wore it effortlessly: black business pants, a sleek turtleneck, and a long jacket draped over his shoulders in a way that screamed confidence.

But it was his eyes that left you breathless. The brightest, most piercing shade of blue you had ever seen, framed by delicate, pale lashes.

They gleamed behind a pair of circular glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose, as if he’d forgotten they were even there. His head tilted slightly, curiously, like he was taking you in just as you were gawking at him.

There was something both playful and intimidating in the way he smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but made your heart race all the same.

Your breath caught, and you fumbled with the edge of your apron, trying desperately to calm the heat that was crawling up your neck. You quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, blinking rapidly as if to reset your brain. "Y-yes! W-we have plenty to choose from," you stammered, forcing your voice to steady itself.

Your heart raced, the thumping in your chest almost deafening as your eyes darted anywhere but at him, unable to hold his gaze for too long without feeling your cheeks heat up all over again. "Is there... um, anything in particular you're looking for?"

The man didn’t respond right away, and you half wondered if he hadn’t noticed your nervousness—or maybe he was just too polite to say anything about it. But the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

He hummed thoughtfully, the sound deep and drawn out, leaning casually against the glass display case. His hand came up to prop his head up as he tilted it slightly, his lips forming a small pout. "Hmm... I'm not sure. I'm looking for something... sweet." His voice dipped on the last word as if he wasn't just talking about pastries.

Your breath hitched, and you could feel the flush of embarrassment crawl up your neck again. You scrambled to maintain your composure, glancing down at the cupcakes and cookies like they held the answers to his cryptic request.

From his Satoru's perspective, you barely reached his chest. He couldn't help but notice how tiny you looked in comparison, especially with your hair tied up into a neat, tight bun, a silk scarf wrapped around your head as if to keep stray strands in check.

You wore a baking apron that was thoroughly covered in flour, smudges of icing trailing from your hands to your face, and a couple of spots dabbed on your cheeks.

The glasses perched on your nose kept slipping down, and you pushed them up in a quick, nervous motion every time they fell.

Your wide, inquisitive eyes blinked up at him, and he noted the light freckles dusted across the bridge of your nose.

Cute.

Everything about you—from the shy glances to the nervous fidgeting—made him want to toy with you, just a little.

"Well, if you're looking for sweet, we have a variety of cupcakes that are really popular," you offered, your voice wavering slightly as you gestured towards the rows of neatly frosted confections. "Or, um, cookies... cakes..." Your words trailed off as his gaze lingered on you, and it felt as though the temperature in the room had gone up a few degrees.

He didn't seem particularly interested in the pastries, though. His eyes remained on you, as if you were far more interesting than anything in the display case.

"Hmm, that's tempting," he murmured, his smirk growing just a little wider. His eyes flickered to the cupcakes, but only for a brief moment before they returned to you. "But I think I'm in the mood for something... softer."

Your heart did a somersault at the way he emphasized the last word words, and you couldn't help but wonder just what exactly this man was getting at.

"O-oh, softer?" You fumbled, trying desperately to keep your brain from melting. You forced yourself to focus, tapping your fingers nervously against the counter. "W-we have some cream-filled pastries, if that's more to your taste?" you managed to choke out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Whatever it was, you weren't sure how much longer you could handle it without combusting on the spot.

"Maybe..." He dragged the word out, enjoying the way you squirmed under his attention. "But what would you recommend?" His voice dipped again, lower, almost teasing, like he wasn't just asking about pastries anymore.

"I-I'll just choose something!" you stammered, turning quickly before you could embarrass yourself further.

Your pulse raced as you headed to the back, reaching for the dessert you had made earlier—a strawberry cheesecake, heavily decorated and sweet.

It was indulgent, something you'd crafted for yourself during a quiet moment, filled with all the sugary indulgence you allowed yourself on rare occasions.

You pulled out a small slice, plating it carefully, your fingers trembling slightly as you arranged it perfectly.

When you returned to the counter, you placed a small sample in front of him, offering it with shaky hands. "Here, try this," you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

He didn't need any further prompting. With a smooth, almost languid motion, he picked up the small fork you offered and took a bite.

You watched as the dessert disappeared into his mouth, his lips curling upward in a satisfied hum. The moment his eyes brightened, a wave of pride hit you. A low, pleased hum escaped him, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

He savored it, his gaze flickering back to you with delighted approval, as though the simple dessert had been crafted by the hands of gods.

"This is fantastic," he murmured, the praise making your chest tighten. "Where do you get this from? Who made it?"

You glanced away, feeling your face flush under his stare. "I, um... I made it."

"You did?"

With a small nod, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Y-yes, I made it this morning."

His lips twitched into an amused grin, but this time, his eyes didn’t stay on your face. "Well, that explains why it's so perfect..." His gaze, deliberate and slow, trailed downwards, lingering for a long moment on your chest. It wasn't subtle—he wanted you to notice. You felt the heat creeping up your neck as his eyes lingered on your name tag.

"...____," he read aloud, his voice low and teasing, drawing out each letter. He let the name hang in the air for a moment, before lifting his gaze back to your flushed face.

The intensity of his gaze, combined with the deliberate way he said your name, sent a jolt of awareness through you. You tried to keep your composure, your hands trembled slightly as you packed up the rest of the cheesecake, placing the box on the counter.

"Here you are, Mr...." You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name. Your eyes flickered up to meet his again, a silent question hanging in the air.

He caught your hesitation, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Satoru," he said smoothly, the name rolling off his tongue like a secret only he was sharing with you.

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly as you cleared your throat. "R-right. Mr. Satoru." You glanced at the register, trying to refocus as you gave him the total softly.

He blinked in mild surprise, his smirk widening. "That's practically half off from the price on the card," he remarked, amusement evident in his voice.

You could feel your face grow impossibly warmer. "O-oh, um..." Your lips fell into a small pout as you avoided his gaze, your hand twitching up to adjust your glasses again in a nervous habit. "I-it's no big deal. I mean, I like to, uh, give stuff to new customers... in hopes that they return, yeah..."

Your voice trailed off, and you immediately wanted to kick yourself for the weak excuse. But it was too late now. You shrugged your shoulders, trying to act nonchalant, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Satoru's chuckle made your heart skip a beat. Even his laughter sounded handsome, deep and melodic, sending your pulse racing. "Is that so?" he mused, his voice holding a playful edge. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cheesecake, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Well, I'll definitely be back... ____."

He winked, and you nearly melted on the spot as he turned toward the door. With a casual wave, he added, "See you soon, Sweets," leaving you standing there, flustered and wide-eyed, barely able to process what had just happened.

The bell above the door rang as he left, and only then did you release the breath you had been holding. You stood there, staring after him, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Sweets?

A few hours later, the warmth of the late afternoon sun filtered through the bakery’s front windows, casting long shadows across the floor as you wiped down the counters.

It had been a relatively quiet shift after he left, though your heart was still recovering from the encounter. As you finished up, the front door swung open with a familiar jingle, and you turned to see your coworker rushing in.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry I'm late!" The boy practically stumbled through the door, one hand frantically adjusting the tie of his high school uniform, the other pushing his hair back in a desperate attempt to look more presentable. "I got caught up in something!"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flustered state. Itadori Yuji, always full of energy and apologies, was like a golden retriever in human form—warm, friendly, and almost comically eager to please. His messy pink hair and wide, bright eyes gave him an air of youthful enthusiasm, and his genuine smile could light up a room.

"It's fine, Yuji," you said with a laugh, waving him off as you headed to the back to grab your things. "You're not that late."

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally finished fixing his uniform. "Still, I hate being late. Promise it won't happen again, if it does, I owe you lunch!"

"Deal," you replied, opening your locker and pulling out your bag. As you walked back toward him, you noticed his name tag was crooked, dangling off one pin. With a quick flick of your hand, you reached out to fix it, adjusting it until it sat neatly on his chest.

"There," you said, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Much better." His warm grin mirrored your own as he stood there, slightly flustered but grateful. "Have a good shift, Yuji. Oh, and the manager should be stopping by later to check in on you."

"Thanks!" he said, already grabbing an apron and getting ready to dive into work. "I’ll handle it. You get out of here and enjoy your break!"

You gave him a small wave and turned to leave, but just as you reached the door, you heard him call out behind you. "Y/N!" Yuji's voice was filled with enthusiasm, and you turned to see him waving both hands energetically, grinning from ear to ear. "Goodbye! See you tomorrow!"

You waved back, shaking your head with a fond smile as you stepped outside, the cool afternoon air brushing against your skin.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm of your steps as you strolled home, your mind wandering as you took in the sights and sounds around you—the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional chatter of people passing by.

It was a rare moment of peace after the hectic shift, a brief escape from the buzz of daily life.

As you rounded the corner, something unexpected caught your eye—a small form, huddled on the edge of the sidewalk.

Your pace slowed as you approached, your brow furrowing in concern.

It was a cat, lying awkwardly on its side, its fur matted and dirty. A quick glance told you it had been hit by something, maybe a car or someone careless.

Normally, you would have continued walking, not wanting to get too involved. But just beyond the cat, two tiny kittens sat mewling helplessly, their cries piercing the quiet air.

Your heart clenched at the sight.

With a soft sigh, you crouched down, inching closer to the injured cat. It hissed at you, its eyes wild with pain and fear, its body tense as it tried to protect its young. But you ignored the warning sounds, reaching out slowly, gently, until your fingers brushed under its chin.

"Hey, it’s okay," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing.

At your touch, the cat stiffened for a moment before going completely lax, its body relaxing against the ground. You stroked it tenderly, watching in quiet as the distended paw began to shift, the bones cracking softly back into place.

You could almost feel the snap of pain yourself, a sharp ache spreading through your own wrist as the cat's injury healed before your eyes.

After a few seconds, the paw was as good as new. The cat stood, shaking itself off, and without a second glance at you, it gathered its kittens and disappeared into the safety of the alleyway.

You remained crouched there for a moment, watching the small family as they vanished from sight, the ache in your wrist growing stronger.

Slowly, you straightened up, flexing your fingers as the pain began to dull. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

Feelings.

That's all you'd ever known. Whether you wanted to or not.

All your life, you'd felt things—things you shouldn't be able to feel.

Anger from your neighbors down the hall as they argued about their personal issues, envy from classmates who resented your successes, and worst of all, the fear radiating from your parents as they stood helpless, unable to comfort you through your relentless sobs.

You could feel their confusion, their frustration.

But at the end of it all, they couldn't fix something they couldn't see.

Over time, it grew—your ability to feel. At first, it was just emotions. You could sense a slight shift in someone’s mood, a flicker of sadness or anger, just an inkling of what they were going through. But soon, it became more than that.

You began to feel their thoughts, whispers that echoed faintly in your mind, giving you glimpses of what lay beneath their surface emotions.

And then... it escalated. Suddenly, you could feel everything.

Whatever someone was going through—physically or emotionally—washed over you like a wave. Their pain became your pain. Their joy became your joy. It all found its way to you.

No matter how far you distanced yourself, it clung to you like a shadow.

It was overwhelming, relentless, like you were drowning in the feelings of others with no way to claw your way to the surface.

As the years went by, your condition worsened. What started as a manageable, if confusing, ability turned into a burden too heavy to bear.

The world became unbearable. Every day was agony, the constant onslaught of emotions and sensations from those around you leaving you raw, exhausted, and desperate for relief.

The cacophony of the city—the anger, the fear, the pain—was like a living entity, clawing at your skin, leaving you shaking and fragile.

Your parents were at a loss. They didn't understand what was happening to you, couldn't see the invisible weight pressing down on your soul. They could only watch as you withdrew further, your silence growing more suffocating by the day.

When your father finally made a call to a buddy—a man who had a cousin that owned a small apartment complex on the edge of the city—it was an act of desperation.

They didn't know what else to do.

So, at fifteen, they sent you away. The cousin gave your parents a deal, allowing them to pay for three years of rent upfront for the ‘penthouse’—a small, one-bedroom apartment that was anything but luxurious.

It was decrepit, cheap, and hidden away in an area most people avoided. The walls were stained with years of neglect, the air thick with the smell of dust and mold.

But it was quiet. Isolated.

And for the first time, you were alone with your thoughts.

Alone with the pain.

But that wasn't the only thing you had to deal with. Upon leaving home, you unknowingly stepped into a new world—a world of curses and sorcerers.

It happened by accident, of course. During one of your bad days, when the weight of others' emotions became too much to bear, you found yourself overwhelmed, losing control, but this time was different.

This time, it happened in public.

You don't remember exactly how you ended up on that street, or why you couldn’t move your legs when you wanted to run. All you knew was that your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, and everything was too loud, too bright.

The emotions pouring out of you were anything but silent. They radiated outward like a tidal wave, flooding the space around you. People nearby started to feel it—your pain, your panic.

The air grew heavy with the thick, chaotic energy you couldn't control.

You didn't know it at the time, but there had been sorcerers nearby. They had been in the middle of an exorcism, dealing with a high-grade curse just down the block. But your outburst—your instability—had thrown everything into disarray.

By the time you calmed down, the sorcerers had won their battle, but the damage was done.

You were on their radar.

At first, the solitude was a relief. The absence of people meant an absence of feelings—no more sadness seeping through the walls, no more anger gracing your vision from out of nowhere, no more envy creeping in with every inhale of breath, rattling you to the bone. But as the years passed, the silence became suffocating in a different way.

You found yourself missing the world outside, the life you had once known slipping further and further away. And yet... somehow, you survived.

As the years passed, you learned to cope with your abilities. Instead of rejecting the constant barrage of feelings, you began to embrace them, to accept the pain and emotion as part of you.

It was hard, terrifying even, at first.

There were times when the spasms would hit, your body wracked with the pain of others, and you'd think you were slipping back into the endless agony of your youth. But you learned to shake it off, to focus, and slowly, everything would melt into the background.

Now, at twenty-three, you've managed to regain some semblance of normalcy. You work part-time at a small bakery just a block away from the apartment, a quiet job that doesn't demand too much interaction with people.

And as you've grown more confident in yourself, so too have your powers.

Now, not only can you feel and change others' emotions, but you've learned to take away their pain as well—absorbing it into yourself, inadvertently healing them.

You glanced down at your wrist, the ache in your wrist from earlier was a reminder of that, the subtle way your body absorbs and dissipates pain.

You didn't know when it started exactly, but the more you leaned into your ability, the more you realized how much power you had over others' emotions—and their suffering.

Arriving home, you expected to be a typical Friday night of you sitting comfortably on your worn-out couch, book in hand, ready to lose yourself in another evening of quiet solitude.

But the buzz of your phone said otherwise.

Your best friend, Sumi, didn't give you a second before launching into an excited explanation about some classmates going out to celebrate the end of exam season and begged you to join them. She pointed out how you never went out anymore, and that you'd been practically living as a hermit

You tried to resist, your first instinct to decline and stick to your quiet night in, but Sumi;s persistence wore you down. She had a way of making even the simplest invitation sound like a grand adventure, and after a bit of internal back-and-forth, you finally relented.

After ending the call, you stood up, looking around your small apartment. It had been a while since you'd gone out, and a part of you felt nervous, but another part—one you hadn't acknowledged in some time—was starting to feel a flicker of anticipation.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to step outside your comfort zone for once.

The music was loud, vibrating through the floor and up into your bones as you sat squeezed into a booth, surrounded by people on all sides.

You hadn't expected the party to be this big—Sumi had said it would be a small celebration, but it turned out to be anything but. The entire club was packed, and the crowd seemed to pulse with energy, the lights flashing erratically in rhythm with the heavy bass.

It was... overwhelming, to say the least, and you'd already considered slipping out the back more than once.

But every time you thought about leaving, someone—whether it was Sumi or one of her classmates—would pull you back into the booth, keeping you tethered to the chaos.

After a while, you accepted your fate, sighing softly as you forced yourself to take a sip of the drink in your hand. The alcohol was meant to distract you, to keep your mind from spiraling into overstimulation.

The lights, the smells, the music, the press of bodies around you—it was all too much. But if you focused on the cool burn of the drink sliding down your throat, maybe you could hold yourself together a little longer.

A few drinks later, your muscles loosened, and the tightness in your chest began to melt away. The alcohol took the edge off, softening the sharpness of your senses, and you finally started to feel relaxed.

When Sumi eagerly dragged you onto the dance floor, you didn't resist, allowing yourself to get swept up in the moment.

The music pounded through the air, and soon you were caught in the rhythm. You let yourself get lost in it, swaying with the crowd, Sumi's infectious energy keeping you in the moment.

"You're finally having fun, aren't you?" Sumi laughed, spinning around you, her blonde hair whipping in the flashing lights.

You smiled faintly, your body relaxing into the music. "Yeah, it's... not so bad."

But as the alcohol worked through your system, the familiar buzz started beneath your skin. The sensations around you grew sharper—eagerness, excitement, arousal.

You could feel it all.

As you danced, it became harder to focus, every emotion from the people packed around you began to seep into your mind, their energy flooding your senses.

It was too much, and yet you couldn't seem to pull yourself out of it.

You wanted to scream, to escape, but the crowd held you tight, the sensations enveloping you like a suffocating blanket.

The music blurred with the flashes of emotion that weren't your own. It was like you were taking in everyone's feelings, all at once. A wave of drunken joy hit you, followed by a sharp stab of lust from a couple nearby.

And then, you felt two hands grip your waist from behind, steady and firm, tethering you to the moment.

A more coherent version of yourself might have jumped away from the unknown touch, startled by the sudden intrusion. But instead, you found yourself leaning into it, falling backward into whoever dared wrap you in their embrace.

The sensation of strong arms circling your waist held you in place, and the firmness of the chest against your back was like a solid wall anchoring you amidst the chaos.

You blinked slowly, your mind swimming as you squinted your eyes open. The faint tickle of soft hair brushed against your neck, and you could tell the person behind you was tall—taller than you by far. They had to slouch and bend over slightly to reach your ear.

It was only when you caught a glimpse of white, snowy hair out of the corner of your eye that you froze. A familiar shiver ran down your spine, and the sharp sensation of lust and arousal hit you like a wave, pouring off the figure behind you in an overwhelming rush.

It was intoxicating, and for the first time tonight, you felt your own emotions cut through the fog of everyone else's. Your heart raced, and the heat rising in your cheeks wasn't from the alcohol anymore.

You didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. But any doubt you had vanished when a smooth voice purred into your ear, "Hello, Sweets~"

The words sent a shiver through you, and before you could fully process the situation, you were whisked off the dance floor. One second you were drowning in the crowd, and the next, you were being led—no, practically carried—through the bustling club.

Satoru, with an ease that belied the chaos around him, guided you up the steps to the VIP section, his hand never leaving your waist.

In what felt like no time at all, you were settled in a more secluded booth at the top balcony, away from prying eyes. The noise of the club felt distant here, muted by the heavy drapes surrounding the area.

Satoru moved with purpose, easily sliding into the booth beside you, his presence commanding and all-encompassing.

You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat as his bright blue eyes locked onto yours. There was a teasing glint in them as he took in your flushed face, a smirk curling at his lips.

Without warning, he cupped your cheek, his large hand warm against your skin, and pinched your face lightly.

"You're a lightweight, huh?" he teased, his tone light but dripping with amusement.

You swatted his hand away with a roll of your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "'m not drunk. 'm tipsy," you muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of control, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Satoru chuckled, leaning in closer. His arm draped casually over the back of the booth, but the movement subtly caged you in, his broad back shielding you from view. He didn't seem concerned with the world beyond your little corner, his attention entirely on you.

"Tipsy, huh?" he drawled, his voice lowering as he leaned even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You're definitely something."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his finger gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're a pretty girl, you know that?" His words were soft but carried a weight that made your heart race.

Your mouth went dry as his finger trailed along the edge of your chin before brushing the underside of your lip. The touch was light, teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. His eyes darkened slightly, the pupils dilating as his gaze lingered on your lips, a light flush dusting his own cheeks.

"I could get used to this," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb stroked your bottom lip. "The way you look at me... I wonder how much better it would feel to have you under me."

The suggestiveness of his words hit you like a punch, your entire body flushing with heat.

You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw lust pouring off him in waves, and for once, you weren't overwhelmed by it. Instead, it mixed with your own growing attraction, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

Your breath hitched, and though you were flustered, you couldn't deny the pull between you.

Every part of you screamed to push back, to regain control, but the way Satoru's fingers lingered on your skin, the way his eyes drank you in like you were the only person in the world, made it hard to focus on anything but him.

Your mouth moved before your brain could catch up. "I do too..." The words were barely a whisper, slipping out between the pounding of your heart and the electric charge that hummed between you.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Satoru closed the space between you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that made your head spin. You could feel the desperation in the way he kissed you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, exploring, tasting. He licked into you with fervor, groaning low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest.

It was as if he couldn't get enough, like he was drinking in every little sound you made, savoring it.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on you—gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and leaving no space between your bodies.

The plush cushions of the sofa gave way beneath you as you felt your back press into them, Satoru already pushing you down. His body hovered over yours, his weight pinning you in place as his hands roamed freely, one sliding up your side, fingers brushing your skin under your shirt.

Every touch sent sparks through your veins, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips when his palm finally slid under your skirt, pressing against the warmth of your skin.

His hand moved higher, fingers brushing over your upper thigh as his other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place beneath him. You squirmed under his touch, your body responding to every movement as if on instinct.

The sensation of his fingers ghosting over your skin was enough to drive you crazy, and you arched into his touch, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if to anchor yourself to the moment.

Satoru groaned again, this time louder, the sound muffled by the kiss. His body pressed closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the solid strength of his chest against yours.

It was dizzying—the way he seemed to consume you with every touch, every kiss, as if he was starved for you. His lips left yours for only a second, moving to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"Satoru..." you breathed, barely able to think as his lips found yours again. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeper, more possessively, like he never wanted to let you go.

Before you could catch your breath, Satoru moved again, flipping you both upright with ease. He pulled you on top of his lap, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he settled you onto him.

You both sat there, panting from the intensity of the makeout session, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you stared down at him.

His eyes were dark, hooded with desire, the usual playfulness in his expression replaced by something more intense. His face was flushed, and a light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. His hands, strong and confident, kneaded your exposed thighs, your skirt having ridden up from all the movement.

The warmth of his touch against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel your mind race as you took in his features—the sharpness of his jaw, the way his pale lashes framed those piercing blue eyes, his lips swollen from kissing.

Satoru licked his lips slowly, and you could feel the heat between you grow as he scooted you even closer on his lap. A shiver ran through you when you felt him hard beneath you, the sensation making your body tingle. He tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you.

"Hey, Sweets," he purred, his voice low and teasing. "Wanna feel how bad I wanna fuck you?"

If you weren't already lost in the feeling of him against you, you might've recoiled in embarrassment at his bluntness. But instead, your body reacted instinctively, pressing down onto him, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you.

The low groan that escaped his lips, paired with the small jump of his hips in response, had your heart racing even faster.

It was your turn to lick your lips, and you noticed the way Satoru's eyes snapped down to watch, darkening even further as his gaze locked onto your mouth.

You leaned in slightly, your lips hovering near his ear as you whispered, "Only if I get to make you beg for it first."

Satoru's breath hitched, and his eyes flickered with surprise and excitement at your boldness. His grip on your thighs tightened, and his cocky smirk grew wider, clearly pleased with your response. "Oh, Sweets," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful challenge. "I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun tonight."

Satoru wasted no time, his hand sliding between your thighs with practiced ease, his eyes focused solely on your face.

ou could only bite your lip in response as he easily slipped his fingers beneath your underwear, his breath growing heavier with each passing second.

"Shit… you're soaked," he breathed out, voice rough with desire.

You can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment, heat flooding your body as his touch sent sparks through you. It was almost too easy for him to slip a single finger inside you, sinking in to the knuckle with no resistance.

His thumb began working in small, slow circles, rubbing against your clit, and your hips twitch involuntarily in response. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel your body reacting without thought.

Your hips moved on their own, instinctively jutting forward in small circles, matching the rhythm of his fingers as he skillfully worked you over.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he added another finger, pressing deeper, massaging your walls with a deliberate, teasing pressure.

A sharp, breathy squeak left you when he found your G-spot. "There she goes…" he murmurs with a low moan, his own hips twitching slightly beneath you, as if the sight of your reaction was enough to affect him too.

Before you know it, the tension inside you snapped. You gasp, feeling yourself reach the peak as your body shudders and tightens around his fingers, your mind reeling from the pleasure coursing through you.

While you were still clenching and twitching from your release, Satoru didn't hesitate. He pulled your underwear to the side and swiftly guided you down onto him, bullying his dick into your small hole.

A low hiss escaped his lips, followed by a growl as his entire body tensed beneath you, almost as if he was in pain.

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of you when he bottomed out in one stroke, your hips pressed flush against his. The fullness in your lower stomach was overwhelming, your thighs burning as they settled around his waist.

Your body reacted instinctively, twitching and clenching down as another orgasm washed over you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Satoru groaned, his voice thick and slurred as he lifted you up and down slowly, your whole clenching tight like a vice.

A low moan escaped his lips as he stared up with dazed and half-lidded eyes, as if he were completely drunk off the feel of you. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his head lolling back against the cushion.

You could only cling helplessly to his broad shoulders, your body trembling like a ragdoll as his hips picked up speed, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room with each deep thrust.

You were lost in the feel of him, lost in the way his lust matched yours, the heat between you nearly unbearable.

Satoru's hand found its way to your neck, fingers wrapping around it like a collar as he tilted your head back, exposing the curve of your throat.

You could feel his breath, hot and ragged, as his other hand trailed up slowly, his thumb brushing against your lips before slipping into your mouth.

A moan escaped you, muffled around his digit, your thighs twitching in response to the growing pressure building deep inside you.

Satoru's hips snapped up harder as if he could feel how close you were. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and just as you felt yourself about to tip over, his voice broke through the haze, panting and breathless in your ear.

"Y'know…" he rasped, punctuating each word with a rough thrust, "…I was sent here… to kill you…" His grip tightened on your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned into your ear. "But how… can I get… rid of something… this… perfect?"

His voice was filthy, dripping with lust, and his words came out between gasping breaths. "My perfect… little cock-sleeve…" He smirked against your neck, his voice growing lower and more ragged with each thrust. "… And I'm never letting you go."

You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you as his words sank in. Just as you tipped over the edge into one last, mind-numbing release, you couldn’t help but wonder what your future held next.

A/N: not me screeching into my pillows while editing like i didnt write this 😭😭

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raitonsfw · 1 year ago

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𝚢𝚘𝚔𝚘𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 (𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞) | 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞

synopsis: Dazai had saved you from the near pits of hell and you smiled at his invitation requesting that you join the agency. When you accepted his invitation, he was over the moon and you two quickly became inseparable. You obviously knew he had feelings for you and you thought nothing of it as you were too shy to return them. That is until he asks to spend the night in the midst of a snowstorm, let alone sleep in the same bed as you? You couldn’t say no, the thought of finally being with him weighing heavily on your mind.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, virgin!reader, shy!reader, smut, first time, fingering, cunnilingus, breast play, grinding (specifically dazai grinding against the bed), p in v intercourse, a little bit of pain, teasing, slight dirty talk, cursing, consent, pining (if you squint), embarrassment (reader moans loudly and dazai fucking loves it), implied aftercare, mention of a dazai-typical suicide, reader wraps his bandages around him for him bc he cant do it himself (he’s a stubborn boy), pet names (darling, precious thing, baby, my dear), use of honorifics.

a/n: a piece for one of my dear followers, i hope you enjoy lovely! 🧡 personally adore writing dazai in every type of scenario and i also have another virgin!reader request for him with a special twist so fellow dazai lovers, be on the lookout for that in the next few days! wc: 3k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

The air was astonishingly crisp and you sighed into your sleeve, the wind catching up to you to ultimately freeze you over. The coat you wore didn’t keep you very warm, it shouldn’t even be classified as a winter coat to be fair. Your boots crunched under the frost that had accumulated on the sidewalk and you bundled yourself up tightly as the winter picked up its rein over Yokohama, snow falling against the rooftops and you fumbled with your keys to the apartment door in front of you.

Your apartment had a sickle warmth coming from it and you nearly collapsed onto the sofa from exhaustion. The day had been nothing but helping Yosano shopping in the heart of the city, the bags heavily weighing you down as she piled on top as much stuff she could possibly buy for the holidays. It was a cute gesture, you thought but you didn’t think that Ranpo needed that much candy stuffed into his stocking.

The sun had just begun to set, the lack of light barely registering as you looked around the dim apartment. It was neater than usual and you picked up the presence that somebody had cleaned it for you. The kitchen was tidied up with the exception of some baked treats sitting out on the counter and the living room had a scented candle lit against the coffee table. You couldn’t think of anyone else who had your house key besides Dazai.

“Dazai-san?” You whispered out, looking towards the bedroom for his company. He sometimes stayed in your apartment after a much needed break from the agency dorms, away from its noise and the constant bugging of the other coworkers that resided there. You two were close, but there was still a certain distance kept between the both of you; but you trusted him nonetheless since he was the one who had invited you to join the agency.

Peering into your bedroom, Dazai was fast asleep. Light snores came from him and you smiled to yourself as you moved over to wake him up. He was in your bed mind you, this has happened quite often and you found it adorable that he sought comfort in your bed. You knew he harbored feelings for you, that was the distance that refused to close between you two; you were simply just too shy to return his feelings and he never made a move on you in fear of making you uncomfortable.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, the action enough to stir him from his sleep. His eyes lazily opened and he yawned loudly, “Oh, Y/N-san, you’re home.”

“Thank you for cleaning.”

“Needed a place to escape to, Atsushi-kun was driving me insane.” He whispered, stretching out onto the bed. He looked at you with a tired expression and you wished you could just gently lean down and kiss him but your nerves got the best of you. Again. You pressed your lips together as you pulled your hand away from his shoulder.

“Can we share the bed tonight?” Dazai asked as he sat up from the bed, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s sooo comfy.”

You blushed at his comment, completely blindsided by the sudden request from him. You were more than fine with him sleeping over, the snow had begun to pile up on the streets and it was beginning to look like a blizzard as it blew past the windows heavily. But sharing the bed is something he’s never asked you before, the intimacy of it making your cheeks hot. Normally he’d sleep on the sofa if he ever stayed over, leaving you to the privacy of your room.

But this was different. Perhaps he was actually going to make a move on you? You weren’t really sure, the thought of it made your pulse quicken. Whatever happened you’d embrace it with open arms, hoping for a flourishing love with the man who had saved you from your old life.

You nodded and left him alone as you went about your home routines, though it didn’t last long as he followed you around your apartment with a grin. He ordered dinner for the both of you at no cost to you at all, though in truth it was probably Kunikida’s credit card he swiped because there was no way Dazai actually had more than twenty dollars on him. He rambled on about his day between mouthfuls and you found out about his suicide attempt had ultimately failed again, Ranpo’s breakdown about having not enough yummy snacks, and the holiday break coming up for the agency that you missed out on.

Before you knew it, the clock struck late and you were standing in front of your bed after your shower, contemplating whether this was a good idea or not. Dazai had hopped in the shower after you, the water running as background noise for your thoughts. You dried off your hair, sitting on the edge of the bed and you heard the soft melodic hum of his song flow through the apartment.

You dimmed the lights and went to find a book to read before bed when you heard the water turn off and you mildly panicked as he came out a few moments later, in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. You had just gotten underneath the covers, the book opened to the page where you left off last abandoned as you gazed at Dazai.

“I left clothes here before, haven’t I?” He muttered to himself, rummaging around your room as you sat quietly on the bed watching him. The droplets from his hair ran down his exposed chest back, something you didn’t see very often as his bandages wrapped around him fully. You felt that ache between your thighs, that cursed feeling that you knew you couldn’t satisfy very well. You were heavily inexperienced after all, the slightest bit of arousal made you quiver and you’ve never actually been with anyone due to the quietness you displayed.

“I think you left them in the second drawer, Dazai-san.” You murmured quietly, pointing to the dresser next to you. He glanced over to it then laughed to himself, opening the dresser to retrieve his clothing and a fresh stash of bandages to wrap himself in.

“Of course I did, making myself right at home aren’t I?” He disappeared back into the bathroom and you exhaled shakily, pressing your thighs together underneath the covers.

You heard a soft noise of disapproval from behind the closed door and Dazai came out with only his sweats on, a mild irritation waving over his face. “Kunikida-kun bought me the wrong brand. They don’t wrap right.”

“Let me see?” You offered quietly, extending your hand out for the roll of bandages. He placed the wrinkled ball in your hand, (he must’ve balled them up in frustration), and you smoothed them out gently. Dazai sat in front of you in a criss-cross, his eyes following your movements as you started the end of the bandage at his shoulder.

“I’ll start the wrap for you, then you do the rest yourself.” You said, holding onto the end of the wrap with your finger as you tangled the next wrap behind his neck and to the crevice of his other shoulder. You continued your motions for a bit, repeating it over and over until you got to his arms. You were practically red from the amount of time you stared at his chest while wrapping, but you kept silent as you handed the roll back to him.

“Can you do the rest please?” Dazai pouted at you, thrusting the bandages back into your hands. You didn’t know why he wanted you to do it, he was already mostly wrapped in the bandages.

“W-Why?”

“Because I like seeing how flustered you get.” He said with a slight taunt and you dropped the bandages in his lap as you finished one loop around his arm. You couldn’t respond, a flush spreading throughout your cheeks again as you reached down to pick up the roll when you noticed the prominent bulge in his sweats.

He was hard. In front of you, in the middle of your bed, and your heart skipped a beat. You felt the arousal slick right against your panties and you could barely contain yourself as your hand faltered whilst reaching the bandages. You must’ve been a bit obvious though as your chin was lifted up to look back at him and his dark brown eyes stared back at you with a glint of lust clouding the rims.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Dazai cooed, leaning in closer to you with a smirk. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Dazai-san…” You whispered and he closed the space between you two, finally. You squeaked in surprise as he swiped his tongue into your mouth with ease and he pushed you back into the pillows gently. He climbed over top of you as he deepened the kiss, the bandages abandoned at his side, and you placed your hands on his chest.

“This is okay, right?” He murmured into the kiss, moving to plant kisses down your neck and your voice trailed off as you attempted to speak.

“Um, yes but…” Dazai came up from your neck to look at you with a worried expression.

“What is it, Y/N-san?” He asked, about to get up but you instantly held him in place. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, you definitely wanted him, wanted this– but he had to know you were a virgin.

“I’m a virgin.” You whispered, averting your gaze with the crimson tint in your cheeks coloring even more. “Is that okay?”

It was more than okay in Dazai’s eyes, he’d show you– the girl he grew to admire from day one, all the ways he could love you and care for you. No one else had the pleasure to touch you as he did, he wanted you all to himself. Ever since he found you stranded from the depths of despair and nursed you back towards the agency with wide eyes. That’s why he was quick to close the gap between you two, he couldn’t stand to see someone else take you as theirs.

“Of course it is.” Dazai assured as his fingers slipped into the shorts you wore, playing with the waistband for a moment. His other hand cupped at your breast lightly and he came down to kiss it over clothed skin. You held onto his back as he laid himself fully on top of you now, grinding into your thigh slightly. “Am I allowed to…?”

“Yes, please.” You said and you felt him ruck up your shirt, pressing open mouthed kisses into the flesh of your exposed breast. Dazai sucked a bruise into it lovingly and you moaned out softly, his tongue lapping around your nipple. A small groan escaped him when you dug your fingers into his back, his fingers sliding through the wetness of the inside of your panties. They brushed against your clit and into your heat with acuteness and you couldn’t help the loud gasp you let out.

“My my, aren’t we loud in bed?” He teased as he pulled away from your breast to tend to the other one, the sensation of his mouth and fingers making you see stars. “You precious thing– so quiet at the agency but when I do this...” He plunged a second finger in, emitting another loud whine from you, “You go crazy.”

You quivered under his touch as he curled his fingers into you, in and out, and you watched him bow down to kiss at your clit, promptly pulling your shorts and panties down in one fell swoop. He licked a fat stripe up the entirety of your cunt next to his fingers, savoring the way you tasted on his tongue with a grunt.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy now.” Dazai moaned out into you as your thighs squeezed around his shoulders and you felt the bed shake slightly and your hands gripped his hair as you looked down. He was grinding against the edge of the mattress now and honestly, you thought you were about to die right then and there; he was so fucking turned on by you that he needed the friction, any friction, and you felt another wave of arousal shoot up your spine.

Your eyes squeezed shut as Dazai rubbed gently against your sweet spot and your head fell back onto the pillows, your back arching into the delicious feeling. He moved back up onto you, his chin wet with your arousal and he wiped it off against his forearm as he bent down to cover you in hickeys.

“Feel good, baby?” He asked in earnest and you nodded with a pitch to your breath; he was incessantly rubbing at the soft spot now, like he was desperate to make you cum for the first time with someone.

“D-Dazai-san, please…” You whimpered out, clutching onto the base of his hip and he immediately realized what you wanted. You wanted him.

“Ready now, my dear?” Dazai made eye contact with you as he leaned back and you swooned as he pulled out his fingers, your slick dripping down them. He parted your legs with his knees, wedging himself between you as he palmed at his clothed cock. “Just can’t wait, can you?”

He pulled himself out of his sweats, stroking his length a few times as you ogled at him. He was big, much bigger than you expected and you nearly drooled out of habit. Dazai positioned himself against your entrance, resting his one hand on your waist as the other guided his cock into you, inch by inch. There was a hint of pain, the pressure surrounding your middle and you closed your eyes tightly. It went away as he stopped stretching you open instantly, searching your face for any more discomfort.

“Are you okay?” Dazai breathed out, peppering little kisses wherever he could reach to lull the pain. His hips jolted a bit as you squirmed against him, but he stayed still to let you adjust. His free hand came to caress your cheek, thumbing it softly as he made sure you weren’t in too much pain. “If it hurts too much, we can stop-”

“K-Keep going.” You wrapped your legs around him, letting him bury himself into you deeper and you both choked on a quiet whimper as he fully bottomed out. Dazai groaned out quietly as you got used to his cock splitting you nearly in two. You felt so full, the twitch of his dick nearly made you cry out in ecstasy. “You can move…”

Dazai nodded into your skin, pulling out of you halfway, then rolling his hips back into you at a slow place. You gripped onto his back again, the bandages slipping loose as he started to fuck into you earnestly and you couldn’t hold back the whimpers that flew out of your mouth. Dazai’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth was agape from how good he felt and soft little ahs- filled the once silent air.

“God, so t-tight around me.” He stuttered out with a whine to his voice, rocking into you sensually as you became overwhelmed by such a throbbing feeling, sucking in a sharp breath. You felt the heat spreading underneath your skin, his cock hitting just right against your walls and you couldn’t help but arch your back up into him, your hips moving against his. The building pleasure spread like a wildfire and your thighs trembled, it wasn’t enough– you needed more.

“D-Dazai– Osamu!” You cried out as he nipped at the bud of your nipple harshly and he hummed, glancing up at you. His eyes were like the black of night, nearly enveloped in the drunk feeling and as you clenched around him hard while he languidly thrusted his hips, they squeezed shut and he panted out a few curses.

“Shit, shit, fuck you feel so good...” He gasped out, pounding into you harder now and you felt your orgasm in the pit of your tummy. His fingers traced back to your clit, teasing it with each stroke of his cock and you writhed against him as your release hit you hard, stars imprinting on the back of your eyelids. You moaned out his name, pressing yourself further onto his dick as your walls fluttered around him and you barely heard his groan as he pulled out of you quickly. His hips stuttered and he spurted all over your tummy and chest with a broken moan, fucking into his hand until he came down from his high.

“How was it, darling?” Dazai asked, out of breath as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. He wiped off his cum with some of his loose bandages and you vaguely understood you were going to have to restart your previous wrapping as you watched him. “Everything you imagined?”

You didn’t answer him, too embarrassed by your moans from earlier. He hummed softly in your ear, planting a kiss behind it as you sat up in his arms. “You sounded like an angel, if that’s what you’re embarrassed about.”

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”

“You think I don’t know you? You’ve always been shy, especially around me. And when you have such wanton moans…” He laughed to himself, helping put your clothes back on lovingly. “No, seriously don’t be embarrassed, you almost made me go feral.”

You shivered as he moved to the other side of the bed, playing back the moment in your head and your cheeks blushed red again. And Dazai, of course, noticed and teased you for it. “Still flustered?”

That gap that had distanced the both of you silently closed as you grasped onto the feeling he gave you. You didn’t have to tell him how you felt, he knew. And he didn’t have to go out of his way to make a move when he already has. Everything was now perfect, the frost melting within the snowtops of the trees.

“Come cuddle with me, Y/N. It’s cold outside and I wanna warm you up.”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

#𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 •┈••✦#𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 ✧#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs #dazaibsd #dazai x y/n #dazai smut #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x fem reader #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x you #fem reader #𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 ✰

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