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cheenapri · 8 months ago

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Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day one

Summary: Illumi had decided to spoil you for once, little did you know how much it would cost you in the end.

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is kind of an asshole but when is he not, reader is not having a good time

Day two + three Day four + five

Shit.

Why didn’t you figure this out sooner?

You had deluded yourself into believing that maybe he felt bad, that he had actually changed for the better, for your wellbeing, that he actually wanted to treat you for once just to make you happy.

Of course not.

There’s always a catch. It was chiefly for his benefit under the guise of strengthening the involuntary relationship you had with him.

“Fate brought you to me. And thus, it is my duty to protect you.” he explained over and over during his many lectures, trying to drill it into you.

He had only given the illusion of change.

You held your breath, his body looming over you with one hand interlaced with your own and the other straddling your hip to keep you still. He left bite marks on your neck, too rough and inexperienced to be interpreted as anything affectionate, though what he intended, blood quick to seep out of the wounds. He had slowly lapped it up, taking far too long for it to be seen as any sort of foreplay. A part of you wondered if he changed his mind and decided to cannibalize you instead.

He didn’t really care how strange his actions were, though. He had you right where he wanted you — where you should’ve been long ago. He moved like he was following a script; his long, black hair draped down as he went in for more “love bites”. His face was expressionless as always, cementing just how empty this relationship was. How did he develop such a twisted sense of love?

You question why he even bothered preparing you for this, though you appreciated it for once, as he took the time to organize a five day vacation with you – or rather order the butlers to organize it. What was the point? Everything was lifeless and awkward, just like back at the estate. Was this the only sense of normality he was willing to give you?

Your mind recalls when it was first announced to you, it was through your appointed butler, Shiori. Shiori was around the same age as you, chosen deliberately to increase your chances of opening up to her. He gave her the task, having her inquire about your likes and dislikes, favorite hobbies, movies, fashion taste and more just so he could surprise you with it later. You assumed he’s either too awkward or doesn’t care enough to learn about your interests directly from your own mouth.

Sitting at a white desk in your prison of a master bedroom, you assembled a DIY house kit. It was a little greenhouse, the tediousness of it giving you something to do while you tried to maintain your sanity. The room was windowless, the walls soundproof, and there was only one door, a titanium maximum security door that could only be opened with his permission. A security camera with a speaker loomed above you, seemingly always pointing directly at you.

You try not to think about how many times he’s watched you through that camera.

The distant sound of one of the security gates opening catches your ears. Someone’s coming.

You set the tweezers down, heart quickening as you continue listening. It doesn’t take long for the door to be unlocked, the multiple clicks ringing throughout the silent room. Audible footsteps could be heard, causing you to relax a little as that was your indication it wasn’t him. You turn as Shiori emerges, swiftly locking the door behind her and standing with her white gloved fingers interlaced neatly in front of her. She smiles at you and you return a half hearted one.

“Good evening, Master (Name).” she bows her head with formality, her short brown and blonde hair briefly falling over her face. She straightens up again and quickly fixes her hair. “The Master has a message for you. You are to freshen up and dress yourself, you will be escorted outside shortly.”

Your interest immediately piqued. You had only been outside of this room once since you got here – when you attempted your first escape. It was during a time when you had a different assigned butler named Junpei. Junpei had fallen for you in their short time taking care of you, bonding with you in ways no other butler would ever be able to. They were genuine, they actually cared about you and your well-being rather than what their employer had tasked them with. There were no cameras in the room at the time so the two of you made plans to escape whenever they visited under the guise of wanting to keep you company. Unfortunately for you, your captor had already planned for something like this, though he didn’t think anyone had the gall to actually up and do it. Both your and Junpei’s heart dropped to your feet when you saw him standing menacingly outside the first security gate. He was silent, but his bloodthirsty aura spoke for him. You soon found out what it sounds like to physically rip someone apart with bare hands. You actually thought you'd die that night as you found yourself unable to breathe or even think amidst his extreme, malicious aura, eyes widening further when he questions if you truly loved Junpei. You never want to see him like that ever again.

You were let off with a broken ankle and no one spoke of the incident again.

Shiori could see your confusion mixed with awe. “That is all I can tell you, Master (Name). It would be best for you to begin preparing yourself now.”

You slowly stood up, looking at your project for a moment as you pondered what he may have been planning. This was strange. He definitely wasn’t rewarding you for good behavior. You’ve already tried that route of buttering him up in hopes he’d let his guard down; he, in fact, did not and you were punished for dishonesty. How would he know what true love was anyway?

You make your way to the large, luxury bathroom, turning on the warm water and letting the shower run for a bit. You hear Shiori’s footsteps through the door, assuming she’s going through your wardrobe and picking your outfit at his request. You hate him.

You slowly stepped into the tub, the warm water embracing you like a comforting hug. Hot showers restored a bit of your sanity. You liked to stand there and allow the water to splash onto you, imagining you were anywhere but in this hellhole. Shiori, however, encourages you to pick up your speed, well aware of your tendency to reminisce in the shower for far too long. You sigh, stepping out of the tub and finishing your routine. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to see what months of stress had done to your features. You threw on a fluffy robe before leaving the bathroom. There was an outfit sprawled out on the bed, one you knew he really liked on you though he’s never admitted it, only staring longer than he should.

“Is this some kind of special event?” You ask sarcastically.

It’s a rhetorical question, but Shiori humors you regardless.

“The Master is in a good mood today.” she smiles gently, her voice somewhat monotone.

She reminded you of him in a way. Why did she even choose to work here? You stare at the outfit for a moment, reluctant to even touch it. Shiori notices your uneasiness, fully understanding your anxiety but feigning ignorance nonetheless. “Is something the matter, Master (Name)?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Your anxiety continues to build. Everything in your strange, unstable relationship with him has been purely transactional. Want dessert? Speak kindly to him. Want a new video game to play? Butter him up but be careful not to overdo it, there’s only so much dishonesty he could allow. Want the privilege of having a full belly for the next three days? Behave. Do everything he says without question, regardless if you have to swallow your pride. So despite all of this, why was he suddenly treating you so graciously? Allowing you to leave your prison cell masterfully decorated to resemble a bedroom belonging to a ten million dollar mansion?

Shiori chuckles a bit. You’re aware of how disingenuous it sounds, but you don’t comment on it. “You shouldn’t worry yourself, Master (Name). The Master has been planning this for a while now, I’m sure you will enjoy yourself.”

Great, now you’re worried Shiori has said too much. You’re no stranger to how strict the Zoldyck family is with their servants, how strict he must be with Shiori. You think of what happened to Junpei again, of the desperate pleas that fell upon deaf ears as he continued to mutilate them, how his expression seemed more uncanny than usual.

Shivering at the thought of it, you drop the topic, not wanting to continue to allow her to dig her own grave but grateful for the hints. You remove your robe, ignoring Shiori’s presence as you’ve changed in front of her countless times, and put on the outfit along with your assigned shoes.

Shiori confirms that you’re ready before the two of you move to stand in front of the large security door. To say you were apprehensive was an understatement. Perhaps this was your chance to finally escape? No, that would be stupid. Obviously he’d already accounted for that, most likely had medical professionals on standby in case he needed to break your ankle again. Maybe he’d break both of them this time or even saw your legs off. You wouldn’t put it past him.

The multiple clicks of the locks could be heard again before the door was pulled open, multiple butlers on the other side. Shiori steps out and you’re hesitant to follow, not wanting to give away how eager and ready to bolt you were. Not like you could anyway, not with five highly skilled butlers watching your every move.

Not a word was spoken as they escorted you through the two security gates, your eyes stinging when sunlight poured over you.

You’re outside.

You’re actually outside.

You would scream and cry if the situation was different, falling to your knees and feeling the grass on your hands in your frenzied state.

You look around, taking a mental note of every little thing. You could see the Zoldyck’s mansion in the distance, far away from your separate living structure. Good.

“Eyes forward, (Name).”

The sudden order breaks you out of your thoughts, your head whips forward while your eyes move to look at the source of the voice. It was a taller, older lady with pink, pigtail type hair. She must’ve been serving the Zoldycks for a long time. She’s silent, giving you a stern look before turning forward again. You fight the urge to look around, to run even, as you’re led through the forest that surrounds the estate.

“Where are we going?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your voice is somewhat soft and timid, but it’s clear they all heard you.

“It’s just up ahead, Master (Name).” Shiori answers, her hands now folded behind her.

You’re taking in as much information as you can without actually looking around, taking note of the distance between the Butler’s Quarters and your prison cell. Approximately one hundred fifty seven steps, you’ve been counting. An additional two hundred seventy four steps from the Butler’s Quarters to the front gate. Would you even remember this information?

One of the butlers effortlessly pushes open the giant front gate, the feat reminding you just how weak you truly are. Those gates weigh four tons and the bigger gates above it are many times heavier.

You can’t even begin to describe what you were feeling. A part of you fully believed he had come to his senses and was releasing you like some wild animal, throwing you off of the property and leaving you to fend for yourself. Surely it would be better than going back to that room.

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. Instead of throwing you out and shutting the gate behind them, the butlers led you to a black Mercedes truck sitting in wait.

Your head hurts. You feel like you’re going to throw up. Typical reaction when you know he’s near. You could just die right now. You knew you were bound to see him again, but that doesn’t repress the dread it fills you with.

He’s staring at you through the tinted windows, you can’t see him — you just know it. You don’t want to see him, you haven't had enough time to mentally prepare; you’ll never have enough time to mentally prepare. Shiori steps ahead of you, opening the passage to hell as the Devil himself sits patiently, his black, empty eyes gazing upon you.

You nearly vomit.

You swallow hard, holding your breath in an attempt to mellow out your facial features as you climb into the backseat. You didn’t acknowledge him yet, slowly buckling your seatbelt and staring at Shiori with widened eyes as she shuts the door, sealing you inside with that monster.

It’s suffocating.

Overwhelming.

You forgot to breathe.

Sucking in sharp breaths, you shut your eyes tightly. The silence is deafening. He’s waiting on you. For once.

“H-hello… Illumi.” saying his name was the equivalent of swallowing a cup of hydrochloric acid. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, pains your throat, your stomach, everything.

Illumi hums in approval. “Hm. I’m thankful you hadn’t forgotten your manners, (Name). I thought I’d have to discipline you sooner than I anticipated.” you hear him shift, surely turning to fully face you. “I won’t need to, right?” his monotone voice does your ears a disservice despite its smoothness.

“No.” you quickly wipe your eyes, knowing how much he hates seeing your tears.

You finally force yourself to look up at him, his piercing, cat-like eyes filling you with the unwavering desire to do something drastic. Maybe throw yourself out of the car when it’s moving and hope it runs you over, killing you in the process.

You look away just as quickly, tightly gripping your pants to quell the need to gouge your eyes out. At least you wouldn’t have to look at him then. He shifts again, facing forward but not looking away from you. “I’ll assume you’re overwhelmed. You’ve missed me so much you don’t know how to convey it.”

“I didn’t miss you. I actually had hoped you died and I’d never have to see you again.” is what you would say if you were fond of getting the life strangled out of you. Instead, you stay silent, staring at your hands intertwined on your lap.

“What have you been getting up to?”

Shouldn’t he already know? Shiori is his human security camera plus the actual security camera he has in your enclosure. What are you even supposed to say to this? You’ve been rotting in bed and crying your eyes out because you can’t leave? You had thought of creative ways to end your own life? He’d have you restrained to your bed for all eternity if you mentioned that last one.

“Nothing of interest.” is all you say.

“Tell me. I want to hear it.”

Bastard’s trying to force conversation.

“I’m working on that greenhouse project Shiori had given me-”

“I had given you.” he corrects. Silence falls over the two of you as the car finally begins to drive off.

Illumi was always out on missions or some other job, how were you supposed to know it was a gift from him? You wouldn’t have touched it otherwise, preferring to rot in bed than encourage him in the slightest. You’re actually thankful for his extended time spent away doing fuck all, not seeing yourself surviving if you had to physically endure him day and night constantly. Hell, you were barely keeping your composure just sitting next to him and you’d only seen him for two minutes.

“Thank you.” not knowing what else to say, you simply thank him, hoping he’d be satisfied with just that and leave you alone.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been doing?”

Of course he doesn’t.

“Killing people?” you state the obvious, hoping he wouldn’t interpret that as you trying to be smart. Assassinating people is his job, it only makes sense to assume that’s what he’s been doing. You wish he’d kill you and get it over with.

“Naturally. Take a better guess.” what the hell does he want from you? You don’t know anything significant about him to be able to give a good guess. You’re clearly stunted, your lack of a response giving it away. He narrows his eyes slightly, reaching out which causes you to flinch. He retracts his hand momentarily upon seeing your reaction before going in again slowly, softly cupping your chin and guiding your head to look at him. “Do you assume I don’t think about you?”

What? He must be fucking with you.

Illumi brings forth his other hand just as slowly, now gently cupping your face with both. You were always shocked by how smooth and soft his hands were. They’re cold though.

“Answer me.”

His owlish eyes were staring directly into your soul, almost hypnotizing you. You shift your head and look away. If you were as bold as you used to be, you would’ve swung on him by now, turning his gentle hands cupping your face into violent claws gripping your throat. It took many lessons for you to learn that you simply could not fight him.

He backs down and lets go of you when you fail to answer, pulling his hands into his lap again. He was aware of your fear, he found twisted comfort in it, believing it would keep you glued to his side. You glance in his general direction but not at his face. He was wearing that purple outfit again and his long, black hair was as silky as ever.

“Aren’t you curious as to where we’re going?”

He sure was talkative today; Shiori did mention he was in a good mood. He’s usually very blank, even around you, his supposed partner. It forced you to learn to read his emotions using his micro expressions, tone, silent indicators, and of course aura. Aura was mainly reserved for more intense emotions, ones you should avoid inducing at all costs.

You were always on edge whenever you were around him, and this unusual shift in attitude didn’t help.

“So where are we going?” you finally ask.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Motherfucker.

You don’t respond, looking away from him in favor of staring out of the window. You were seated awkwardly, not fully allowing yourself to relax, not that you could in the presence of Illumi. You could almost drown him out completely if it weren’t for his uncanny staring, something you still couldn’t get used to. He barely blinks; it reminds you of some sort of Creepypasta.

“Talk to me.”

It was an order.

“I don’t know what to say to you.” your voice was quiet. You’re really not in the mood to speak right now, especially not to him. This wouldn’t do, however, as Illumi was determined — something that proves to never end well for you.

“You can talk about anything you want.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“(Name),” it was a warning, a hint of irritation laced his otherwise monotone voice. “Do you really not have anything to talk about… or do you just not want to?”

You didn’t want to clearly, but you also didn’t want to taste his wrath.

“Could you tell me about your day?” you chose to interview him instead, hoping that if you got him to talk in length, you wouldn’t have to. He brings his hand up to his chin as if he was thinking, his eyes never leaving you. You felt like he was robbing you of your life energy just by looking at you.

“My day?” he repeated the question, falling silent for a few moments before speaking once more. “If I told you, that would ruin the surprise.”

You reply with a mere “oh” before looking out of the window once again.

“(Name).”

He’s never been this persistent for your attention before. All the times he’s returned home and “spent time” with you mainly consisted of the two of you sitting in silence while he watched you do nothing; an occasional short and awkward conversation. It felt more like he was being forced to interact with you rather than wanting to on his own volition, despite him being the one keeping you there.

“I’m sorry, Illumi.”

You only said his name when you were trying to soothe him, hoping to avoid consequence. He knew that, but he wouldn’t admit that it indeed worked. The slight drooping of his shoulders betrayed him every time, however.

He doesn’t accept nor reject your insincere apology, choosing to silently savor your calling of his name. You will never understand him.

“I answered you, now it’s your turn to talk. Tell me about your home life.”

This question immediately raised flags. He’s never asked you something like this, let alone allow you to cry about it. You look at him, eyes slightly widen for a brief moment. Was he only bringing this up to bait you into talking? “Don’t you already know everything about me?”

He indeed did. He made it known to you that he’d stalked you for five months before making his move, talking about it as if he was stating what he had for lunch. He had no sense of morality, no awareness as to how his extreme actions affected others. He’s insane.

You’ve noticed a slight change in his stare. You’re pissing him off.

“I want you to tell me.”

“Uh,” you quickly scrambled for things to say, “I had my own house and car as well as a really good high paying job.” you used “had” for a reason. You were positive that all your assets were repossessed when search parties couldn’t find you and weeks were flying by without a single clue regarding your whereabouts. Illumi keeps staring, quietly pressing you to continue.

“I had a really sweet dog.” you used “had” again. You don’t recall all the details of that night, only that you had gotten a rude shock when you woke up to a strange man in your bedroom. Surely you would have woken up sooner if you heard something happen, but you didn’t. You decided to ask what you were always afraid to ask before, taking advantage of this moment to finally get closure. “Are… are they okay? My dog?”

Your hesitation was obvious. Nothing good ever happened whenever you brought up members of what he refers to as “your past life.” you were positive he intended for you to talk about things you did alone rather than actual people or living beings you connected with. They didn’t exist anymore, according to him. They don’t matter. Don’t talk about them.

“Your dog is dead.”

You’d been preparing for this moment for months now, but the bluntness of his answer still hit you like a truck. “H-huh?”

“Your dog is dead.” he repeated again with no sense of remorse. ”I didn’t want to risk it alerting you to my presence, so I killed it.”

Something felt off that night, your dog was more anxious than usual, pacing back and forth and staring out certain windows. They even refused to go outside when you tried to let them out, their tail tucked between their legs and fur standing on edge. You should’ve known. You should’ve taken them and ran.

It was even worse that you also ignored all those strange people you had met that week. They all had a gold piercing sticking out of some part of their head, almost like a needle. Their words were slurred and their movements puppet-like as they asked you unsettling questions. “Do you have a romantic interest?” as well as “Do you have any exes?” and “Do you live alone?”

That should’ve been your sign to get the hell out of there.

Illumi tilts his head and watches you attempt to bottle your emotions. Your hands gripping the fabric of your pants tightly as you bit your lip, your heart was hurting. You’d already mourned for your dear pet, assuming that killer had taken their life when he broke into your house, but still having slight hope that he had spared them.

Why had he even bothered to answer your question let alone allow you to ask it?

He doesn’t initiate anymore conversation for the rest of the car ride, thankfully, allowing you to simmer in your emotions. That doesn’t mean he averts his attention from you, though.

The car finally pulls into a parking lot belonging to a grand, luxurious hotel. You’re as confused as you are shocked. The parking lot is empty aside from several black Mercedes trucks holding Zoldyck butlers and presumably cars belonging to the hotel’s employees. It’s a normal working day and this is a well known, upscale hotel, so why was it so empty?

Illumi looks away from you for the first time since you’ve entered the car, pulling the door’s handle and exiting the vehicle. You didn’t move, you’re too afraid to, you didn’t want to make the wrong move.

Shiori approaches your side of the truck, but Illumi steps in front of her, opening the door for you and holding out his hand. You slowly unbuckled your seatbelt and attempted to slide past him, he only grabbed you and placed you back into the car before extending his hand again, silently commanding you to take it. He took note of your blatant disobedience, but said nothing, deciding against giving you a much desired punishment. He took what he considered to be a softer approach, giving you a chance to correct your mistakes.

Feeling as though he’s one inconvenience away from breaking you, you hesitantly take his hand. His grip was firm, his assistance useless. He ignored your attempt at pulling your hand free the second your foot touched the ground, choosing to let go only after both feet were firmly planted.

Illumi doesn’t explain the situation as he begins walking with you in tow, Shiori and some other butlers trailing behind the both of you. Butlers were all over the place actually, standing guard as if this was a maximum security prison rather than a hotel. You feel like they’re all watching you, fully expecting you to try something in vain. You don’t blame them, if you had super speed, you would’ve run off by now.

The hotel was completely vacant of people, aside from more butlers and concerned hotel employees. As you enter the lobby, your eyes lingered on the receptionist, praying they had seen your missing person’s report months earlier; if it had even been reported as such. They only look down, guilt seemingly spread across their face. Were they threatened or perhaps even paid off to stay silent?

Who knows.

The silence was louder than the shuffling of the butlers’ footsteps or the tune of the faint jazz music coming from the ballroom. A butler approaches Illumi and informs him that all preparations were ready, earning them a nod in response. You silently follow as the both of you are led away, the uneasiness on your face evident to anyone who dared to look at it.

The butler soon stops in front of a particular door far at the end of a long hallway. The space felt liminal, you’d almost think you’d gotten sucked into a different reality if the two people next to you weren’t present. The butler bows slightly before leaving you and Illumi alone. He looked at you, like he was trying to read your expression, before twisting the door’s handle and revealing the room’s interior.

He must’ve paid a fortune. The room was large, decorated with luscious furniture you couldn’t even begin to think about affording. There was a king size bed in the middle of the room, a flatscreen TV almost as wide as the bed propped on the wall in front of it, a glass sliding door leading to a balcony on the far right, and a lounge chair in the corner to say the least.

You awkwardly step into the room, hugging yourself as you attempt to make sense of the situation; taking note of the clicking of the door’s lock.

“Well, here we are.”

His lack of enthusiasm spoiled the mood. Not that the mood was bright anyway.

“So… what’s the point of this?” your voice was a bit low and shy. He didn’t like it, he’d have to chip away at that. He had bigger things to be upset over, however, as you appear, or choose to pretend, to not understand what’s going on. His intentions should’ve been obvious by now. He doesn’t respond right away, causing you to ask yet another ignorant question. “Are we attending some kind of special event?”

“No.” his answer was short, intentionally vague to encourage you to figure it out yourself. Illumi casually moves about the room while you continue to stand in the same spot, presumably checking for himself to make sure that everything was in place. You were on edge, that much was apparent as he stopped a few feet in front of you. “Do you like the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I will be back.”

You feel a slight wind as he walks past you, a little too close considering the amount of space around you. You immediately relax once he’s gone, taking a few deep breaths as you cautiously inspect the room. The thought of trying the handle to see if he’d locked it behind him doesn’t even cross your mind, the odds were against you and you knew that. Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try the balcony door, however.

It was locked, just as you’d guessed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed and resting your head in your hands, you think in vain of a possible escape. Maybe when he leaves you alone again, you could use something to break the glass then use the bed sheets to craft a makeshift rope? The problem with that is the bedsheets wouldn’t serve you as you were several stories off the ground. Your plan didn’t even account for what you’d do if you even reached the ground as you were sure Zoldyck butlers surrounded the premises.

You decided it was best to just roll with it, see where this was going. Maybe you could exploit him as he does seem to be more lenient with you.

The door clicks and it opens, Illumi standing in the doorway looking in at you, noticing how much more relaxed you appeared to be in his absence. He motions for you to follow and you do so without fuss.

Following him down the long hallway felt surreal, you couldn’t hear anything aside from your own footsteps as his were completely silent; traits of an elite assassin. You watch as his long, black hair swayed behind him, almost glaring as you study his robotic movements. He doesn’t feel real.

The two of you entered the hotel’s restaurant, it was just as desolate of other patrons as the rest of the place. You were led to a lone, two person table placed next to the glass wall, the table’s decorations stood out amongst the others as its setting included rose petals and candles.

Corny. You don’t like this.

You take your seat, now being forced to fully face him for who knows how long. You turn your head to the right, looking out of the window. Your breath hitches as you notice people in the far distance. People. Actual people clueless as to what’s happening to you right now. You give Illumi a side stare, his blank yet judgemental one challenging yours.

“Where is everyone?” you couldn’t help but ask despite knowing it was a question he did not want to hear.

“They aren’t important.”

Why should they matter? They’d only interfere and distract you from what’s important: him. You should only be focused on him and his efforts to please you.

“So what exactly is this?”

Your inability, or unwillingness, to comprehend the situation was beginning to annoy him. Wasn’t it clear? Did the dim lighting and candles not give it away? The rose petals on the table? The romantic — or what he deemed to be romantic — atmosphere?

“It’s a romantic dinner.”

He didn’t offer any further details, upset he had to state that it was a date rather than let his efforts speak for him. You were sitting across from him, the two of you were almost completely alone. This was a date.

“All of a sudden, though? You never let me leave that room before.”

“Why does it matter?” his tone was still flat.

Illumi couldn’t believe you’d question his acts of kindness. He was doing it because he wanted to treat you for once, deciding to take you somewhere appropriate and fitting to your taste.

“I’m just trying to understand you.” you state, holding your hands together on the table as a self soothing mechanism.

“You don’t need to understand me.” his voice hinted at the tiniest bit of annoyance. He had no need to explain his actions, he had his reasons and that’s all you needed to know. “Just enjoy the dinner.”

You say nothing as you turn your attention to the only other people present in the room: the butlers standing at the exits and the chefs working in the kitchen. None of them looked at you, their attention focused on anything but.

“Don’t stare at them. The butlers are simply here to protect you.” his monotone voice made his last sentence sound oddly intimidating.

You fight the urge to question if it was him they would be protecting you from in the case that you anger him.

“It feels like the rapture has happened and we’re the only ones left.” you pick up one of the rose petals, inspecting it as an excuse to avoid his gaze.

“That would be ideal.”

“Is something bad going to happen to me?” your forward question caused his thin eyebrows to raise slightly.

“Not if you behave. I just want you to enjoy this date.” his tone was a bit softer now, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t, or forced to be, close to him. He didn’t like your anxiousness, worried it would ruin his meticulous yet futile plans to make amends with you.

You were still on edge as the butlers served a lavish meal to the both of you, your facial features failing to soften as you inspected the food. He was fully aware of just how much damage he’d done to you and he wasn’t going to justify his behavior, only wanting to make you feel better.

It was hard for him to stay silent, however, as you were continuing to look around and stare at the butlers.

“Is the sight of them bothering you?” the sound of his voice catching your attention. “I could have them move out of view if that would ease your nerves.”

He doesn’t get it. Maybe he pretends not to, choosing to ignore your uncomfortableness with him in favor of deluding himself.

“It’s not that, it’s just…”

Your words couldn’t come out, you didn’t know what to say. Ask him to get rid of all the unnecessary escorts and open the hotel to the public again as this felt more like a standoff than a romantic dinner? You hated the silence between you, not that you wanted to speak to Illumi, you wanted to hear the chatter of other diners over the classy jazz music, the clinking of utensils as they enjoyed their meal.

“Oh?” he slowly tilted his head, his uncanny expression observing your every move and sound. It’s as if he was daring you to ruin it all with some sort of stupid comment; it’d give him a reason to drag you back to the estate and lock you away for good.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” you manage to finally say. It just wasn’t worth it.

He continues staring, features unmoving as you assume he’s thinking of various ways to brutally murder you. He only straightens himself.

“I see.”

You’re internally thankful he dropped it, your shoulders drooping in relief as you watch him continue to eat unnaturally fast, a strange habit of his. When was the last time he’s blinked? You can’t stand him.

Illumi obviously didn’t believe that you had nothing to share. He knew you well enough to guess that whatever you were about to say would’ve angered him, so you kept quiet in order to avoid problems. Good, you were learning.

Silence fell over the two of you, increasing the tension in the air. He’d already finished eating, choosing to gaze at you rather than anything else. He was making you lose your appetite, but you somehow managed to finish your meal.

“Would you like dessert?” Illumi inquired, barely giving you enough time to chew and swallow your last bite before asking.

“No thanks.” you don’t explain why. The truth was that you didn’t want to sit in front of him any longer, you were tired of his eyes boring into you.

“Are you sure?” he tilted his head again, pressuring you for a different answer.

“I’m sure.”

You wouldn’t budge, much to his dismay. You had unknowingly foiled his plans to spoon feed you a strawberry sundae.

“Very well.” he doesn’t push any further, only slowly nodding. “Did you enjoy the food?”

“Yummy.”

Illumi didn’t immediately react to your childish response, only straightening himself after a few moments. He had made sure this dinner would be perfect, planning everything to the last detail, and you’ve shown your gratitude by looking at everything other than him and rating his endeavor with a one word answer.

He remained still for a few more moments before deciding to ignore your strange behavior once again. He stood up from his seat, looking away from you for the first time since he’s sat down.

“Let’s go.”

You follow him as commanded, taking clear note of his slight annoyance. He led you to the hotel’s theater, the sound of your footsteps slightly echoing in the large, spacious room. He picks two spots in the center and takes a seat, you follow suit.

Choosing to stay silent, you don’t ask any questions about what movie the two of you were seeing, only staring forward as the lights turn off and the showing begins. Illumi had carefully selected this movie for you. It was lighthearted and fun, chosen specifically to improve your mood. The date wasn’t meeting his expectations, as you weren’t quite throwing yourself at him, but he was determined to change that.

You tried your best to ignore his constant glancing in your direction for the entirety of the film. It was as if he was looking for something, for reassurance to soothe his ever growing concerns. He didn’t like your indifference, he didn’t like that he couldn’t tell how you were feeling in detail about his attempts at courtship.

The movie was good, you liked it. Illumi was already staring at you by the time you faced him, the credits rolling on the screen. It was subtle but he still looked upset, the image of you leaning away from him as if you were trying to put as much space as possible between the two of you was still fresh in his mind.

He would break that physical barrier, desensitize you to his presence.

As you silently walk back to the suite, Illumi suddenly grabs your hand. Your heart jumps into your throat, fully expecting him to crush it as punishment for upsetting him. He stops walking and stares at you when you impulsively try to pull away, not saying a word as he gives you a second to collect yourself.

You were ruining his passionate act of love. He knew he wasn’t the most expressive, as he was raised to mask his emotions, but his straightforwardness made up for that. You should be happy. This is an act of love. He had done his research — asking his father — and knew what he needed to do in order to please you. He won’t let you spoil it.

Eventually you somewhat simmer down, still tense in his firm hold. He continues walking, slower this time. He wasn’t even holding your hand correctly as yours was balled into a fist. He didn’t care though, as long as he was holding it.

The night hadn’t gone his way but he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve, optimistic that tomorrow would be better. Illumi would not put up with failure.

You were in for a ride.

You reach and enter the suite once again, Illumi locking the door behind him. He lets out a sigh and begins to settle down, having no issue kicking his shoes off and changing clothes right in front of you. You, however, move to sit stationary on the lounge chair, staring at the ground to avoid any awkward interactions with your naked “husband”.

You had no desirable reaction to anything he did, which he found disheartening. You finally look up when he’s fully clothed, watching as he sits on the edge of the bed. He decided to risk it, to ask about your experience. He figured a blunt and bold answer would be significantly better than overthinking and assuming the worst. “Did you enjoy anything I did today?”

Truth be told, you did. You just didn’t like him. Had anyone more deserving taken the time to do this for you, you’d throw yourself all over them.

“It was the typical Illumi experience.”

You regretted saying that before it even left your mouth. “The typical Illumi experience” was not a compliment, it was a brutal insult disguised with subtlety. You had just compared his month’s worth of intensive planning and preparing to a regular day being around him back at Kukuroo Mountain.

Something you didn’t like flashed in his eyes, your fingers nervously grip your pants yet again. What you’d just said was so dismissive, condescending, everything he didn’t want to hear. He turns away from you, looking out of the glass balcony door as he takes several slow and deep breaths. He was collecting himself.

He reasoned in his mind, internally arguing that this was his chance to dissect your feelings and see how he could improve. He turns toward you, expression unreadable. “Elaborate.”

“Am I allowed to express myself?” you ask, your question was legitimately innocent. However, you were saying all the wrong things at the wrong time.

“You were always allowed to express yourself, you just seem to have a habit of doing it disrespectfully.”

“I’m sorry.” you lower your gaze, apology insincere.

You don’t know why he’s changed. You can tell that he’s being softer with you. If you said something like that a few months ago, you’d be unable to speak for the next two weeks.

“Do you harbor resentment towards me?”

That was a rhetorical question. He didn’t want an answer; an answer other than a loud, confident “no” anyways.

You stay silent, continuing to stare at the ground. He didn’t acknowledge that your silence was your way of saying yes.

“Are we going back tomorrow?” you ask, changing the subject in order to lessen the heavy atmosphere.

“Back to Kukuroo Mountain?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Illumi doesn’t provide further details. This trip won’t end unless it’s on a good note. “You should get changed.”

He stands up and rummages through the wardrobe, pulling out a silk pajama set. You slowly stand and retrieve it, making your way to the bathroom to change. He assumes you’re just being shy. You eventually come out, having put your dirty clothes into the hamper, before making your way to the lounge chair once again. The lights have been dimmed in your absence.

He was sitting up in bed, halfway under the blankets, staring at you expectantly. You didn’t want to come to terms with the reality that you had to sleep in the same bed as him; that fact wasn’t lost on him. It was obvious you were avoiding having to deal with the inevitable conclusion of the night by seeking comfort on the lounge chair. He wouldn’t allow you that comfort. “Come to bed.” his tone was flat, it was an order.

“I’m not tired yet-”

“Come to bed.” he wasn’t hearing your excuses, only repeating himself while patting the empty space next to him. You look at him with a saddened expression, silently pleading to be let off the hook; the issue is that he’s let you off the hook multiple times today already and he wasn’t planning on letting you rob him of this. “Do as I say.”

Sensing the impatience in his tone, you reluctantly head over to your side of the bed and slide under the blanket, making sure to curl up as close to the edge and as far from Illumi as possible. You face away from him, silently making it clear you weren’t interested in anything other than sleep. He doesn’t comment on this, choosing to stay silent as he thinks to himself. He wanted to hold you, but he knew not to push too far. At least not so soon.

He sighs, continuing to sit up in bed as he watches your sleeping figure. Tomorrow will be a better day, he’ll make sure of it.

#yandere illumi #yandere illumi zoldyck #hxh x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere scenarios

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genericpuff · 5 months ago

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hey gen p! i was reading a post of yours where you mentioned LO's age rating and briefly mentioned that minthe was verbally abusive during sex which surprised me bc i didnt really remember her being accused of doing so outside of the slap/havent come across any other accusation since, so i've been defending her against abuse allegations, maybe mistakenly, bc i stopped reading the comic at some point. is it too much to ask for some instances where she *was* abusive so i can correct my outlook?? thx! :3

oh so it's really just one scene and it's waaay back in Episode 8-

like i'm gonna assume this isn't a consensual kink play thing LOL but also like. I wanna make it clear also that people don't necessarily defend Minthe as not being abusive, many people who defend her are well aware that she's done abusive shit. They defend Minthe because 1.) she has a lot more potential for well-written character development than Hades and Persephone (as she's actually genuinely flawed as per the narrative vs. Hades and Persephone who are flawed but we're still expected to believe they're perfect, so unlike H x P Minthe actually has potential to do better and grow like characters should!) and 2.) a lot of Minthe's abuse towards Hades isn't necessarily justified but is a lot more understandable when you really analyze Hades and realize that he is, in fact, a piece of shit LOL

like don't get me wrong, I don't think Minthe was in the right by treating Hades like shit and escalating it to the slap, there are FAR better things she should have done... but I and many others defend her on the basis that she doesn't have the self-respect or resources necessary to look out for herself in a more productive way, much of which was facilitated by Hades trapping her in a financially abusive relationship. When you're worried not only about losing your partner, but also your house and your job with it, that's gonna turn into some unhealthy coping mechanisms and responses like physical and verbal abuse as we see in Minthe. She's someone who's not in control of her situation but is trying to maintain her control through unhealthy means.

Hades, on the flipside, has no excuse when he assaults people or acts like an asshole - he's just able to get away with it through the narrative, its characters, and the readers, because he's the rich and powerful main protagonist.

Minthe is an incredibly flawed person who was self-aware enough to understand what she was doing wasn't right but not equipped enough to do better. She's lower class (according to Rachel, all the nymphs are considered lower class compared to the gods) and was originally written as someone with untreated BPD, which Rachel later retconned (note: the episode where Minthe slaps Hades is literally called Splitting, which is a symptom of BPD, like it's not some assumption or misinterpretation, Rachel literally wrote BPD into the script and then tried to quietly backpedal on it later through Discord.) Hades is an incredibly flawed person who is self-aware of what he's doing, but doesn't see it as wrong and therefore doesn't see any reason to do better. But we're expected to root against the former as an irredeemable villain who can't do better and root for the latter who is an actual monster whose actions are justified and excused by the narrative and its creator.

So yeah, that's why a lot of us defend Minthe. She's not perfect, she's done abusive shit, but unlike Hades and Persephone, she has the capacity to grow and change for the better.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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ginnsbaker · 8 months ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

Leigh is ten minutes late.

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read.

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on.

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I—” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began.

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out.

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast.

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side.

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven.

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying.

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there.

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout.

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different.

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber.

“Everything alright?”

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual. It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously.

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.”

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out.

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too.

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin.

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day.

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room.

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch.

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style.

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding.

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers.

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead.

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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merakiui · 11 months ago

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thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

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danieyells · 5 months ago

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It's kinda sad that we don't get a yandere character. Like, I mean, some would make great yanderes (or almost all of them), but for now it feels like barely a tease. Like, I expected subaru to be the yandere-ish one (like kylar from dol), but it ended up being bait and switch.

Yes, I know Towa is right there, but his is more like being the big boss around, there's no stalking and unhealthy obsession.

(IT SENT THE FIRST ONE ANON DON'T WORRY 👍🏾 not spammy at all, I've been on tumblr long enough to know how it is.)

It is but since it's a joseimuke it's not really like. . .a romance focused game/story? So a character who's romantically obsessed with the player might be too idk derailing? So I understand why they wouldn't have one--on the other hand, A3! has Masumi who's kinda yandere afair(may have been toned down? It's been years since i was into a3 and my memory isn't good so) so it's not like it's impossible.

(and obvs it works for DoL because 1. Kylar is dismissable and heavily ignorable and doesn't have a ton of impact as far as main story goes atm, 2. There's a ton of other stuff going on in DoL that a character who's obsessed with you is kind of the least of your worries and wouldn't necessarily do much to impact the plot or setting or the character's mission of survival. The story in TDB is linear, so to actually give a yandere any impact they'd have to be present a fair amount more, at least from my perspective. Then again they could be like. A background yandere, obsessing and collecting information from the shadows and it only comes up the rare times they show up at all, but. . .I dunno.)

I definitely agree a yandere would be nice if only because it's one of my favorite character tropes haha but maybe later on in the story? It's still really early, everyone and the dynamics and the worldbuilding and the relationships and such are still getting introduced, so there's still time for things to develop--and for additional characters to be introduced! (The previously missing Dionysia students are still alive for example! We'll probably meet them at some point.) Never hurts to have a little buildup!

I will note that one of Subaru's expressions is labeled "yandere".

(none of his homescreen dialogues use this expression and the way the actual scenes are coded is different so I can't view expressions in scenes to try and remember if this expression was used anywhere in game haha) it doesn't feel very yandere but it's important to consider that yandere characters are characters whose love is unhealthy and obsessive, not necessarily characters who are stalkerish or violent in their behavior. He actually looks a little regretful to me, as if his unhealthy attachment is something he's aware is bad and he feels stressed out by it--which fits his character, if he does turn out to be yandere in some way, that it'd bother him. It'd also fit with his affinity line about not trying to seem like he's testing you and worrying he's being weird. . .because he knows his internal feelings are quite weird. He's always bottling things up, so he restrains all the yandere lol.

And Towa has some yandere energy, but it's more directed towards Haru than the player lol. He does straight up try and poison Ren with flowers after all. As far as we know he's not obsessive towards him though, so it's just a vibe. You're right in that he is, by his own admission, the boss from his own perspective, especially when it comes to anomalies. He's kind of like if the ~domineering ceo~ type was full of whimsy and silliness lolol.

#danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells with anons #danie yells answers #slaps a cut on here because the auto-shortening bugs me a little when it's not showing any text haha

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leggerefiore · 7 months ago

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boo! 👀

if you’re taking requests rn, could i request general yan!cyrus hcs if you haven’t done them already? ty!

I have not,,, yet i now must....

cw: yandere, unhealthy relationships, dark content, kidnapping,

Minors DNI

🌌Yandere Cyrus🛰

☄️ The exact moment that Galactic Boss first acknowledged these irrational feelings had forever haunted him. You had always been kind to him, despite how harshly and inexplicably he might have tried to push you away and isolate himself. Any soft words you spoke to him broke him out of the endless cycle of pain and uncertainty that plagued his mind. Your very presence broke that distress that plagued him over the state of the world. It made no sense, yet he dared not further push you away. Losing you would cause a pain that might drive him even further from rational thought. Keeping you at his side was all he could do. The word love rarely enters his mind, but he unfortunately had to acknowledge that it was precisely what he felt towards you.

☄️ His plans… His precious plans were meant to be free from this madness, one way or another. The irrational thoughts that plagued him, he had forced them down to focus on creating a new world. A world without spirit would not allow him to feel the pain that never seemed to stop pulsating in the back of his mind, nor would it make the horrible thoughts that tormented him have any further effect. Spirit was the source of conflict. Without it, nothing would happen to allow such irrational actions. He desperately repeated that to himself as he went about his research and period of development. Your calls to him kept haunting his mind, but he forced himself to ignore whatever foolish feelings they forced out.

☄️ Then, you appeared in his office with nervous body language. You were afraid. Of what? He did not have to ask, as you demanded to know what his plans were. Claims that you had been told by a whistle-blower of his intention cut deep into him. You shook your head and demanded he stop… Or you would leave at once. Cyrus tensed at your ultimatum. It was an impossible decision. Give up his only chance of escaping these horrible feelings that swelled inside him, or give up you… He heart beat much too harshly in its cage. Losing you… Losing you was not an option. The worst fears imaginable began to creep through his veins like an icy liquid. When you turned your back to him, his arms locked around you as tears began to burn his eyes.

☄️ Those irrational thoughts finally burst out in his head. Losing you… He was terrified of this more than anything. Something from his past flashed into his head. A small toy robot. The last sense of comfort he had in this disgusting world was you. It always had been. You seemed stunned into silence as he cried and held you. His strength was surprisingly more than you expected. That whistle-blower deserved the worst punishment imaginable, bringing him to his knees in a figurative manner. You softly tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you just wanted him to stop his plans. He knew better. Your threat held more weight than you might have realised.

☄️ Cyrus knew nearly everything about you, and his power and influence was more than enough to get him whatever he needed. There was no need to stalk you… not when your home had security cameras. He had convinced himself that it was not stalking long ago. Building locking mechanisms that were far too complicated for you to figure out was done with rapid speed. His fear of losing you now was almost entirely controlling his actions as he continued to work. The apartment you shared was already soundproofed, and it was easy to make a one-way delivery device that let you order whatever you wanted without finding a way out.

☄️ One day, not too long after your confrontation with Cyrus and his subsequent panic attack, you find yourself locked in your home. The veranda did not open, and the front door was secured with a complicated lock that would only respond to Cyrus and whoever else he verified. Panic could only settle in your mind as you tried to open the door to no avail. Reaching for your phone to contact Cyrus on what to do, you realised that it was almost entirely different. The only person it would allow you to contact was Cyrus. In fact, all devices seemed limited to solely him to whom they could communicate. Unbeknownst to you, the man himself watched this on his computer. His irrational thoughts were soothed. You were safe, and this world could not hurt you, nor could it take you from him. His explanation over the phone did not calm you down at all.

☄️ He is distant and controlling. All he wanted was to keep you at his side, and now he has that more than secured. His work once again takes priority, but any worries that cross his mind are soothed when he checks in on you with the cameras. Your escape attempts are desperate and numerous at first before slowing down into nothingness. You seem to escape your prison. He does feel bad – memories of his younger days locked in his room come to mind and make his chest tighten – but this is temporary. He reassures himself. In his perfect world, you both will be together normally again. Your rewards for being good are more access to things.

☄️ He allows you some freedoms. Being trapped inside is boring. Television is allowed since it is a one-way communication. Certain offline games after returned, giving you something to do to pass the time. You are never restricted from any area of the apartment but the veranda. Food is always whatever you want to order. Cyrus truly does not care what you do, as long as you do not hurt yourself or attempt to escape. Anything you even vaguely desire will be bought for you. His love is genuine, no matter how toxic and unhealthy it may be.

☄️ In rare moments that he seems to return home from his work, there is this moment of lucidity within his mind. You clearly avoid him and seem to refuse to even be in the same room as him. It contrasts harshly with how you previously would cling to him when he returned, something that he used to find annoying and unwanted. His foolish spirit made him crave such things. Your touch was desired to a disgusting (to him) extent. You will be caught off-guard by his sudden behavioural shift towards affection. His hand gasps your own as he gazes deep into your eyes, his breath racing. You are truly among the few things he cares for. The embraces are always soon to follow as he fights the complicated thoughts in his head again.

☄️ Punishments are truly rare. Most of the time, they are access being restricted again to various things. He is not a cruel man, nor does he want to cause you pain or distress. Unfortunately, this was the only situation that seemed to bring him any mental relief. You truly are kept in a gilded cage by him. Alone and desperate, yet upset and annoyed. Harsh words make him less likely to come home in the evenings. You quickly become forgiving and polite again, needing another human presence.

☄️ Escaping is nearly impossible, but it can happen. Cyrus's locks are not foolproof, and you could have friends ready to aid you in any way. He will know when you do and panic. Time is short, but if you can get away and manage to find either a certain International Police agent or a blonde champion, you might just be home safe. Both take their duties seriously and will stop at nothing to make Cyrus's plans fail, regardless of what they are. You are likely quietly moved out of Sinnoh to be away from any area with Galactic's influence. Sadly, whatever relationship you had with the man is more than dead, but at least you are free. Somewhere, Cyrus weeps over a pokemon and person that have both vanished from him and left him alone in this incomplete world.

☄️ If you do not… Well, his madness will take hold without a doubt. A group of his grunts will show up one day and take you to that taunting mountain. At the peak, you can only watch as Cyrus forces the two pokemon to create a new world for him. Something inside of him had also snapped and changed with your attempt to leave him. A new plan emerged. There was no need to recreate this world, nor should he make an entirely new one without spirit. No, his desires plainly spoke to him. A world where it was just you and him. Finally, he would truly know mental peace. The two female commanders can only gasp as Cyrus suddenly grabs you and presses your body into his chest. You both fall into the strange otherworldly portal and vanish from this world, never to be seen again. A late-comer emerges from the shadows far too late. You both truly only had each other, just as he had wanted.

#yandere x reader #yandere pokemon x reader #yandere cyrus x reader #cyrus x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #cyrus/reader #yandere pokemon cyrus x reader #yandere cyrus/reader #yanstuff

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 months ago

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Five Fics Friday: July 19/24

Happy Friday everyone!! It's been a long week, so let's settle in cozily and check out these fics on the radar this week! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Responsible Adults by J_Baillier (M, 16,279 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Family, Illness, Suicide, Grieving John, Fatherhood, Injury, Psychological Trauma, Angst, Guilt, Substance Abuse, Major Character Death) – After the events at Musgrave Hall, those affected are trying, and struggling, to move on with their lives. And life is hardly going to stop throwing new challenges at them.

The Scientist's Method by spacemutineer (T, 26,607 w., 7 Ch. || ACD / Granada Holmes Canon || Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt / Comfort, Time Loop, Blood / Injury, Doctor John, Developing Relationship, BAMF John, Temporary Character Death, Guilt, Drug Use / Addiction, Grief / Mourning, Friendship / Love) – Sherlock Holmes has always known the world through the straightforward lenses of evidence, logic, and reasoning. But when Watson is caught in a tragic preventable disaster, his trusted clear lines of reality start to shift and blur, and the scientist detective begins to piece together a grand discovery far beyond even his exceptional imagination. Detection is a way of learning and science is a way of knowing, but as Sherlock Holmes is about to realise, love is a way of understanding.

Tango Between Broken Hearts by curlyjohnlock (E, 38,333+ w., 10/25 Ch. || WiP || Post S4, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, BAMF John, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Grief / Mourning, Angst with Happy Ending, Gaslighting, Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Relationships, Heartbreak, Flashbacks, POV Alternating, Bearded John, Depression, Drunk John, Hurt John / Sherlock, Denial of Feeling, Miscommunication, PTSD, Drug Addiction / Abuse, Family Drama / Secrets, Christmas, Cuddling / Snuggling, Hand Jobs, Protective Greg, Parenthood) – Fate brought Sherlock and John together, but a terrible incident tore them apart. A decade can feel like an eternity when you're forcibly separated from the person you've been desperately in love with. Now that fate is giving them a second chance, unpleasant memories resurface, and the heartbreak they both share is taking more than just time to heal. Will they be able to overcome the past, or will a higher power keep them forever apart?

RECENT LOKIUS BOOKMARKS

Moribund by sticks_and_souls (T, 2,884 w., 1 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || S2 Deleted Scene, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Time Slipping, First Kiss, Making Out, Kissing, Time Looping, Heavy Angst) – Everyone keeps talking about how in all the infinite replays that Loki did, he would have taken time to make out with Mobius. So I manifested a version of that (with just a wee sprinkling of angst).

only looking for a little peace by RunnyYolk (M, 57,051 w., 5 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || Season 1 Divergence, Alternating POV, Developing Relationship, The Void, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Loki Variants, Flashbacks, Protective Loki, Protective Mobius, Action/Adventure, Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Betrayals, Reunions, Grief/Mourning, Trust Issues, Self-Hatred, Jötunn Loki, Catharsis, Touch Starvation, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Affection, Implied Sex, Jealous Loki, Love Confessions, Crying, Emotional First Kiss, Emotional Love Making, Arguments Leads to Kiss, Hugs) – "Nothing in politics is 'quite' peaceful." "Well, I did no worse than any of the politicians opposite me, I can assure you." "No, that's true," Mobius concedes. "And you did great, really excelled at the game. You laid all the groundwork to be a very successful president. Maybe you would've turned that into more, after a while." "Perhaps." Part 5 of where the edge began

#five fics friday #my fic recs #lokius fic recs #johnlock fic recs

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muzansfangs · 1 year ago

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Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji xf!reader; Mitsuri Kanroji, Obanai Iguro, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, Sanemi Shinazugawa (mention to past relationship between Sanemi and Kanae and Sanemi and the f!reader), Shinobu Kocho, Tomioka Giyuu (mention to sexual intercourse between Tomioka and Shinobu); Daki, Enmu (mention to sexual intercourse between Douma and Enmu), Kokushibo.

Warnings: implied and explicit reference to sexual contents, language, angst, threats, mourning, unhealthy habits, murderous intents, possible reference to social anxiety and difficulties in coping with fame, jealousy, violent arguments, wax play;

Plot: your face is on the magazines, on the social media and everyone is wondering who is the mysterious girl Muzan has helped after the embarrassing incovience at the park. The Slayers, under the command of Yoriichi, gather in their headquarters and Sanemi deals with ghosts from the past and the present. Trying to cope with your new life as the future President’s love interest, you meet two new bodyguards, Enmu and Daki. Jealousy and wrath ignite a spark between you and the Sixth in command and insults are thrown in the kitchen. In the meanwhile, Muzan lets you know that he cannot attend a dinner he had planned with you.

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE SLAYERS.

"Oh, look at this!" a pink-haired girl chimed, her big doe green eyes twinkling, as she settled a newspaper on the coffee table in front of her. The action caused her colleagues to switch their attention on her, subtle eyes scrutinizing the first page of the morning paper.

They were surprised to see you, their main target, bending down in the middle of the park as you puked on Muzan Kibutsuji's shoes. Was it intentional? Judging by your expression, it did not look like you had planned that. You were clearly embarrassed and Muzan seemed to be slightly perplexed, as he helped you up.

Apparently, he had made his first move. He had made the world see him as a caring man and he had just set up a basis for your relationship to develop under the sunlight.

"Did he poison her on purpose to make her barf?" Basilisk flatly asked, furrowing his brows as he poured himself a glass of cognac.

"He doesn't need to poison her to make her do it..." Whirlwind bitterly retorted, averting his eyes from the newspaper in irritation. You were still beautiful, too kind and loving to be stained by Muzan, or someone like him anyway. Maybe, you had saved your soul when two broke up, but you were ending up selling it to the devil himself now.

Unacceptable. It was sick. He was sick of it.

"Ah, come on, he is hot! There's no need to lie about it" Desire replied, cocking her head to the side as she blushed a little at the sight of the Politician and his charming smile. It was just in her nature. There was a reason why she was always sent to seduce men, after all. She knew how to play her cards right and she was a siren herself.

Basilisk's upper lip twitched and he turned around not to face them, his feet feathing against the polished marble floor of the majestic Ubuyashiki's basement. It irked him how deeply she could upset him with her frivolous comments. She made him lose his composure easily and that was illogical.

In the corner of the room, Belladonna brushed her lips against Wave's jaw. Her purple eyes half-lidded as she sighed at his lack of reaction. No matter how hard she tried to pull the strings of his heart, he never let her in, he never gave her more than a night together. Even among the bedsheets, though, he always seemed cold, distant, as if he was just fulfilling a duty.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked him, shifting her position to straddle his lap.

The dark-haired man rested his hands on her hips, his grip tightening a little to keep her in place. His body was there, sitting on the leather sofa, letting Shinobu distract him a bit, but his mind was far away. His mind was pestered with imagines of the time you two spent together during the past years.

"Nothing. — he shortly replied, his ocean blue eyes flicking up to meet her sharp gaze — I should be the one to ask you that. Get off. Are you a nymphomaniac?" he said, causing her to scoff and jump back on her feet.

She knew he thought about someone else. She knew he was thinking about another girl, even when he reached his climax into her. Who was she? Who was that girl and how could she be better than her? She did not deserve his attention. Why could he not love her? If that girl was a problem, she was going to get rid of her.

You, the girl who bewitched him, was destined to fall by her hand. Or so she thought.

"Funny how your head was buried between my legs last night and now you accuse me of being a pervert" she fired back, whipping her head to the side and hastily leaving the living room. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed through the room and caught the eyes of the other Slayers. There was tension in the air, the typical atsmosphere of anticipation that took breaths away during an incoming meeting.

Shinobu ignored them, her tiny hand resting on the hilt of her katana hanging on her left hip. She was too agitated to take part to the reunion. Their Master had not arrived yet and the Head of their organization was not around either. She would have called sick, making sure to send the comunication before the meeting started.

As she crossed the room, a gust of wind on her left whipped her face, causing her purple bangs to sway around her visage. She froze solid, her eyes widening even so slightly as his intense cologne pierced her nostrils. No one wore that essence, no one was that fast and capable of masterly covering up his presence. The sharpe edge of the sword punctured the tender flesh of her throat and she swallowed forcefully, not daring to move a single muscle.

"Are you already leaving, Kocho Shinobu?" he asked softly, calling her by her full name despite their strict rule to communicate by using their code names.

Silence took ever the entire room. No one spoke and she could swear the only audible sound was her heavy breath.

"No" she merely replied, closing her eyes as she awaited for him to remove the blade from her neck and he did, glancing down at her with a friendly smile. It was genuine, nevertheless. Everybody feared him for his lethality, but Sun was not a bad person. He could easily switch from his cold, apparently stern attitude at work, to the caring and lively one of his true nature in a nick of time.

As Shinobu turned back around and bowed her head as a sign of respect, he gestured for her to join her comrades again and strode towards the coffee table to grasp the newspaper and showing it to his subordinates.

"The photos are authentic. I was there. He had probably made up a plan to make their encounter seem a coincidence but he did not harm her in any way" the man said, inspecting the photo for a several seconds, before folding the paper and handing it back to a blushing Desire.

"How do you know that?" the pink-haired girl asked, leaning forwards and biting her lower lip in curiosity. Her shirt was barely containing her prosperous breasts and her actions made everyone fear the button was going to pop open and hit someone's eye.

"What a cat in heat..." Shinobu commented under her breath, shooting a scornful glance at her colleague.

Luckily, no one had heard her and Yoriichi smiled at the boisterous female slayer "She got a panic attack. Now, I need to have a word with Whirlwind. You are all dismissed. I will make sure to contact you later for more details about our next moves" he instructed them, darting his eyes on Sanemi as he grimaced at the tall man's request.

Murmurs spread around, as everybody left the room without objection and the two men stared intensely into each others eyes. The white-haired slayer knew exactly what his Captain wanted to talk about. The matter had left him wide-awake all night long. He was not in the mood to talk about it, but he did not have much of a choice in the matter.

"He told you about yesterday, didn't he?" Yoriichi started, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black trousers as he watched Sanemi loll his head back against the backrest in distress.

"Yeah, he did" he tiredly replied, his violet irises clouding over as he darted his eyes on the white ceiling.

"If you want to take some days off, it's fine".

"No. I wouldn't rest anyway. I better focus on this shit and on killing people. It's the only thing I am good at" Sanemi stated, his raspy voice holding a bitter undertone that left no room for doubts. He was on the verge of going on a killing spree. A failure, he felt like a failure. Every single time someone needed him, he was not there, he never made it in time.

"Don't say that and I am hereby forced to order you to desist from whatever you are thinking of doing now" Yoriichi calmly said, his deep maroon eyes almost boring holes into Sanemi's ones. He could see the scenery playing on the other slayer's mind. Blood, blood staining his clothes as he tried to avenge the poeple he lost, the people he could not protect in the past.

But they both knew that the hand holding a blade on Muzan's neck was always going to be Yoriichi's one.

No one else could do it.

"Fuck off" Sanemi retorted, trying to stand up from the couch but Yoriichi pushed him back with a simple shove of his hand.

"It's a suicidal mission and I won't let you do that out of rage" the Head of the Slayer firmly asserted, the volume of his voice high now as it boomed through the silent living room.

"Why? Why do you care about me? I am a shitty brother and I have been an even worse lover! I never do anything right! Let me do something good for once, let me do it! Let me kill each every fucking Moon, until I can die by his hand. I promise I will do it. Just... Just let me try!" Sanemi Shinazugawa snapped in the end, tears burning in his eyes as he let his emotions out for ones.

His eyes were bloodshot and Yoriichi could smell the dispair and sorrow in his words. Out of everyone, Whirlwind was the only Slayer who had never cried or showed a shred of empathy in front of the dead bodies of an enemy or a colleague. He had not said a single word, when he broke into the headquarters in the dead of the night, holding Kanae's body in his arms.

His tears were not there. His heart too. Long forgotten under a sheet of ice, forgotten because crying only meant being weak and let the enemy win.

"Since Peony is gone, you haven't been the same. Her death has damaged you" Yoriichi observed, sitting next to him and propping his forearms on his knees as he stared at an indefinite point ahead of him.

He could not stop blaming himself for all of this. If that night he had not failed, Muzan would have been dead and no tears were going to be spilled anymore. Regrets and remorses devoured him from the inside both day and night.

"Not as much as her absence did" Sanemi uttered then, running his calloused fingers through his spiky, white hair as he tried to take back some control.

And, although none of them dared to say that name, they both knew Sanemi Shinazugawa was talking about you. The silence that follower spoke volumes.

♚

You were laying face down on the pillow, secured between the luxurious walls of your bedroom. You did not have the guts to face Muzan and the others after your small performance yesterday. Your phone was blowing up with notifications from people you knew, asking questions and trying to understand what exactly had happened between you and the high-flying politician.

You had opted from turning them off, eventually. You could not answer anyway and seeing those pictures was truly embarrassing. You were supposed to have dinner with him that night, but you were not really in the mood for it and you almost felt guilty about your behavior. Muzan had not acted hostile towards you, not even when he was forced to throw his shoes in the trash can and send Kokushibo to buy him a new pair, as you two waited in the car.

You had pretended to be asleep then, barely answering his questions about how you were feeling and if you needed something.

"I am forever going to be remembered as the vomiting First Lady" you breathed out, rolling over the bed as you realized that hiding away forever was not going to erase the folk memory.

Therefore, you jumped on your feet and got ready to go out. After you were done wearing your shoes, you hesitantly opened the door of your room and walked down the corridor. You were supposed to buy yourself something for the night. Muzan had told you there was not a budget for your shopping sprees and that you could pick anything you liked. You felt like a spoiled brat and it pained you a little bit, but a simple expensive dress would have not made him cry for days on his bank account.

As you walked into the living room, you spotted Kokushibo and two people you had never seen before. One of them was a beautiful girl around your age, her long, dark eyelashes jarred against her straight, long white hair tied up in a high ponytail. Her irises were green, matching with the tips of her hair.

Could she possibly be Daki? Was it her the girl your soon to be husband favored before you?

Next to her, there was a man with a dark brown bob and some fuchsia strands decorating the back of his head. His eyes were almost enchanting, a bright turquoise shade that captivated your gaze. A bizarre couple, indeed and you cleared your throat to catch their attention.

"Hi..." you greeted them, folding your arms against your chest as you felt their gazes trailing on you immediately.

Kokushibo, who was polishing his katana, straightened his back and sheathed the shiny blade back into its scabber as soon as you opened your mouth. He was impeccable as per usual.

"Daki, Enmu, she's—" he said, but he was cut off by the resentful sigh of the sixth in command.

You did not fail to notice how she narrowed her green eyes at you and scowled, eyeing you up and down as if you were the cause of the climate change. There was no doubt about it. She hated you. It was hate at first sight!

"Muzan's new branded toy. I suppose he needs to check his sight... It's clearly deteriorated" Daki snippily said, pursuing her lips in contempt.

If she had chose violence, then you were not going to disappoint her. You were not offended. How could you be, when all she was good at was probably just pleasuring men? Therefore, you smiled faintly and let her words sink in.

"If am correct, you must be his hole. Sorry, I meant to say that you were his hole. Nice to meet you" you blurted out, not even considering your choice of words as you stared daggers at her.

Enmu giggled and clasped his hand over his mouth as the girl stiffened and walked up towards you. She did not seem much of a threat and you felt confident enough to stand tall in front of her. What could she even do? You would have loved to see her try to lay a finger on you. Kokushibo would have probably chopped her manicured hand off, before she even had time to raise her fist.

You two did not share another word. Actually, you had silently agreed to throw hands. She tried to reach for the the whip on her belt, but Kokushibo stepped in between you two and shielded you from the raging, self-proclaimed prom queen about to hit you.

"Apologize" the first in command lowly said, not even glancing at Daki, as he rested his hand on the hilt of his katana.

The girl scoffed and took a step back, before turning around and leaving the room without a word. You did not expect much from her and, honestly, it was about time that you two met and tried to get at each others throats. Nakime had truly made you hate her even before you had the chance to cross paths.

Yet, why did you hate her so much? She had all the reasons to loath you. But what about you? Muzan had agreed to court you, but he was not in love with you yet and, although you were slowly and inevitably falling into the web he was weaving around you, could you honestly tell you loved him? Things were changing. Your feelings were changing, nurtured among strawberries, kisses and glances that lingered into your eyes for longer than you expected.

"My, my... I think I haven't seen her that upset since Douma accidentally set fire to her Gucci bag" Enmu chimed in, propping his chin on the palm of his hand as he eyed you in sympathy.

You glanced at him, a small smile curling your lips as you relaxed a bit and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear "How did it even happen?" you curiously asked, only to be left speechless by his answer.

"Oh, the thing was that Douma and I had chosen her bedroom for experimenting wax playing! A thing lead to another and the flame of the candle—..." he never got to finish his story, because Kokushibo grasped your wrist and interjected.

"Enough. You need to buy a dress" he punctuated, causing a yelp to leave your lips as you started to laugh for the first time after the messy scene at the park. Enmu. You liked Enmu.

As you stumbled out of the living room, a blushing Kokushibo dragging you down the corridor, you did not lose your chance to shout a reply at the Seventh in command "Enmu, let's go out for lunch tomorrow! I need details!".

Kokushibo sighed, pushing the metallic button of the elevator as he pinched the bridge of his nose in distress "God, have mercy..." he uttered, realizing that, out of all the things he had done for Muzan, dealing with you was probably the hardest task ever.

Maybe, as you strolled by his side at the mall, trying on various dresses, asking for advices, he could think of a good way to cheer you up at the restaurant too. Why? Because you would have been forced to attend the dinner with Kokushibo.

You had not heard your phone buzz in your purse, you were too busy struggling to unzip a dress, but your fiancé had just sent you a message.

MUZAN: I can't attend our dinner. I promise I'll make it up to you this weekend. The reservation is still valid, have fun with Kokushibo.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! A promise is a promise and here I am with another chapter of my main work. I am sorry for having kind of neglected my updates for “Guilty pleasure” here on Tumblr, but it gets hard keeping up with everything at times❤️

Likes, comments and re-posts are appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3rOart @cherrymanhuas @kazuhaslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013 @yoriichi-second-wife @sunaswife @lucikittyxoxo @heartsforjeongin @ishmealmendes @wondermilka @dangerousdreamkitty @crazycatlddy

#muzan x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer #sanemi x reader #kanae x sanemi #shinobu x giyuu #muzan x y/n #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan x you #obanai x mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji #daki #demon slayer x reader #yoriichi tsugikuni #enmu tamio #kokushibo x reader

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starogeorgina · 2 years ago

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Killer queen

Warnings: Incest, sexual content

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen OC

1.01

Your earliest memories of Aemond are of him crying out of loneliness in his nursery. You don’t remember much from that time in your life given that you are only a year older than him, but you remember how desperate he was for love and attention.

Your parents, King Viserys and Queen Alicent, didn’t know how to treat you or your siblings. Your father never got over the death of his first wife, Aemma, your oldest sister Rhaenyra’s mother. He was destined to spend the rest of his life mourning her until the day he died, while your queen mother simply wasn’t connected to her children. She was fiercely protective of you all but wasn’t interested in really getting to know her children.

As a result, Aegon turned to drinking and whoring himself to find comfort. Helaena developed a very strong interest in insects, and although you found it peculiar, you were glad she seemed content to spend most of her time alone studying them. Over the years, your mother pushed for you to act like a "proper lady," but that was never who you were. Ser Criston Cole taught you how to fight; at first he refused, but you wore him down eventually by reminding him constantly that the Targaryens have many enemies and you should at least know how to defend yourself.

Aemond was different; he didn’t need interests or hobbies; he needed to be loved.

Not getting the affection he needed from either parent or his other siblings, Aemond often turned to you for comfort, and as a result, he became overly attached. At first, you found it annoying and tried hard to break the invisible string that seemed to bond you, but everything changed when he lost his eye. You’d never know the truth of what happened between Aemond and your nephews; all you care about is that he was hurt. And after seeing how crazed your mother behaved and how laid-back your father was, you finally realized how much Aemond needed you.

And how much you needed him.

“I want to go north.”

Your mother continues to stare out of the window, uninterested in your conversation. “Why is that?”

“I want to experience what it is to be cold.”

She rolls her eyes and stands. She lets out a deep sigh while smoothing out the dark green material of her dress. “What is the real reason?”

“Father has invited Rhaenyra and Daemon to a grand feast to celebrate the arrival of their new son. I thought it would be best if Aemond wasn’t here when they arrived.”

Aemond’s anger towards Lucerys was unhealthy, and you didn’t want the festering resentment to explode and ruin the celebration.

“Maybe the children won’t accompany them. They might stay at Dragonstone.”

“Rhaenyra would never travel so far without her children.” Your mother presses her lips together into a tight, thin line. You didn’t mean to insult her, but it appears that your words have upset her, so you try to backtrack. “I just mean she will need to keep a close eye on them; they aren’t the type of children to be left unsupervised.”

Your mother nods in agreement. “Yes, bastards are known to be a little more wild.”

You feel guilty. Your nephews were better behaved than your own brothers and had shown their family nothing but respect. You’d never admit it out loud, but your dislike for them growing up wasn’t because they were bastards; it was because Rhaenyra was their mother, and you were jealous of how she treated them.

You clear your throat, “So?”

“Very well,” she looks you up and down, then frowns. You had not long arrived back from training, resulting in your clothes being covered in mud. “But you will arrive by carriage, wear proper dresses, and behave like a lady. You will be representing House Targaryen on your travels, and I don’t want any stories of inappropriate behavior getting back to me.”

She gives you a knowing look. Unlike your father, she wasn’t willingly blind; she was aware of all the rumors surrounding your relationship with your brother. Her only comment on the situation was “don’t bear a bastard child,” so whenever you made love with Aemond you made sure to drink moon tea afterwards. Personally, you didn’t see what the big deal was when you were going to be married to him one day.

“Thank you.”

You go to leave the room, but your mother calls to you, “Have you even asked Aemond if he would like to go north?”

“I don’t need to ask him.” You hold back a smirk. “I’ll just tell him I want to go, and he’ll invite himself.”

Your mother shakes her head and closes her eyes, indicating she doesn’t want to hear anymore on the subject.

—

Playfully, you splash the water on the end of your fingertips in Aemond’s face, hoping to make him smile, but he just remains the same, silent with a blank expression on his face while he continues to wash your back. His mood has been sour since you told him of your plans to travel, although you weren’t sure why. He usually enjoyed being your travel companion.

Most princesses got their baths drawn and their backs washed by handmaidens, but your mother put a stop to that as soon as you and Aemond hit puberty because he was always with you, including when you washed and changed. It was mainly innocent; he just liked spending the time talking to you when nobody else was there.

You take his free hand and kiss the back of it. “What’s wrong, my love? I thought you would be happy.”

“Ashara…”

“Do you think it will be so cold that we will need to bathe together to stay warm?”

He clicks his tongue and says, “I doubt that will happen. I’m sure all your suitors will be keeping you far too busy.”

The seriousness in his voice made you pause your movements. “My suitors?”

His eye widens slightly as you turn your head to look up at him. He studies your face for a moment before his features soften. Aemond kisses the tip of your nose. “It’s not important.”

A pressure builds in your chest. It takes you a second to recognise that to be the feeling of dread. The feeling as if you were an observer looking in hit you hard. Aemond was keeping something from you. “Aemond! Tell me!”

He snakes his arm across your chest and roughly grabs at your breast, rubbing his thumb over your hardened nipple. His lips brush against your ear. “It’s nothing; I’ve just missed you.”

“I saw you at breakfast this morning.”

“Yes,” he says, kissing your cheek. “And now it’s nighttime.”

He lets go of your breast and moves further around the side of you, his hand now stroking the side of your thigh. You knew he was holding back but decided not to push it; you’d wait until he was in a better mood before questioning him.

His fingers found their way to your core. Aemond rubs his thumb in circles over your clit. He smiles when your legs part, giving him more access. He was a master of your body and knew exactly where to touch you. He slips two fingers inside you while continuing the rubbing motion on your clit.

You grabbed Aemond by the jaw and pulled him down to kiss you. Your other hand tangled in his hair. You stay locked in a passionate kiss until you become a whimpering mess. Suddenly he pulls away, smirking, and says, “Show me how much I mean to you.”

You step out of the bath, being careful not to slip, and follow Aemond towards a chair. He pulls his trousers down to his knees and sits down on the chair, motioning for you to sit on him. You straddle either side of him, lining him up with your entrance, then sink down. You bury your head into his neck and say, “Oh god.”

He thrusts up sharply and smacks his hand against your backside hard enough for it to sting, but not so hard that it would be painful. “No, show me.”

You grip his shoulders tightly and start to ride him. Your wet body pressed against his dry clothes, leaving damp patches across them as you bounce up and down. He grabs your throat without squeezing, forcing you to look at him as his other hand starts to rub at your clit again.

“Aemond, please,” you beg as your legs start to shake.

He ceases his actions, saying, “Remind me, who gets to touch you?”

Your legs begin to ache, adding to your desperation to climb. “You! It's only you who gets to touch me, and it will only ever be you!”

“Good girl,” he kisses you roughly, letting you go of your neck and pulling you in as close as possible with one hand while the other touches you where you need it most. “You're always such a good girl for me.”

Hearing those words, the coil building inside your stomach snaps, “Fuck Aemond!”

You dig your nails into his shoulder, leaving red marks on his skin, and the feeling that you clench around him causes his own orgasm. After he’s cums, Aemond stays inside you while catching his breath. You fall forward, and he kisses your cheek.

Between pants, he asks, “When do we leave?”

“So are you coming with?”

“My sweet Ashara, there’s nowhere in this world I wouldn’t follow you.”

#house of the dragon #Aemond Targaryen x you #Aemond Targaryen #killer queen #HOTD #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fandom #aemond targaryen smut #Aemond Targaryen/you #aemond one eye #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen x female oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen/oc #aemond targaryen x oc #Aemond Targaryen x fem oc

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seneitut · 1 year ago

Text

‘‘Redemption’‘

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Yoru/F!Reader][Slight Gekko/Reader(?)]

Words: 10K

Tags: Fluff, break-up, jealousy, introspection, technicality of the game (Wanted to play with the AFK idea oopsie), NSFW +18, handjob, oral sex, teasing, dom/sub undertones, vaginal sex, more fluff, aftercare.

[Sorry for the wait, I had matters to take care of before posting this and, as you can see, is literally the longest fanfic I’ve written so far so I had to make a lot of revisions before posting it.]

-----------------------------

A few weeks later, Gekko breaks up with you.

Sudden and quick, from what he's been told.

Is surprising how fast the news travels within the few agents who are interested in something so mundane as gossiping inside the protocol. And Yoru is certain he wouldn't indulge in it if it weren't for Jett's loud mouth and perfect timing to witness the event unfolding in front of her very eyes.

The part where she decides Yoru should be the first to get the news was out of his control. Jett made sure the gossip was spread around like wildfire, starting with him and consequently Phoenix, to later on be told to Raze and Killjoy, and like dominoes, it all went downhill.

You didn't deserve something this personal to be vented out like it was nothing, and while he reprimanded Jett for being so careless and stupid for breaking your trust, her apologies wouldn't quell what has already been burnt.

What were the reasons? He asks himself that night. Why did this happen?

There is a faint clink between the tools he switches from hand to hand, discarding the one he doesn't need at the moment, before he goes back to fixing his bike.

The loose screws and the heavy puffs of breath he exhales are the only sounds accompanying him in the empty room, too deep in thought and simply mulling over what developed in the conversation that culminated in your relationship with Gekko.

Is unhealthy of him to think about your love life when he has nothing to do with it; but Yoru is nothing but a curious human, and as flawed as he might be, the need to know nags him unceasingly.

Yoru wonders if you ever told Gekko what transpired between you two that night. And if so, wouldn’t he understand that he was the one to take advantage of you? Yoru initiated the approach. He kissed you without asking for your permission—and while it is true that he acted upon impulses and you miraculously reciprocated, he is still to blame and be taken accountability for complicating things.

But if that wasn't the case, if you decided to keep the secret of your little moment of weakness and passion to yourself, has Gekko been planning this beforehand and simply decided to toy with your feelings for this long? Because that wouldn't make any sense.

Gekko has always acted like you were his everything; his light, his moon, his whole world. Gekko always made sure to let everyone know how much he was in love with you, much to Yoru's chagrin, and has been your personal cheerleader at everything since day one.

And now, he decides he's tired of it and breaks up with you without any explanation?

How fucking dare him.

The man is stupid for letting go who could possibly be the strongest and kindest person he's known; just what the fuck was he thinking to break your heart like this? Wasn’t he boasting about your amazing relationship a couple of weeks ago? What changed? Why was he backing off like a coward?

The shock about the separation turns into confusion, which soon boils into pure anger sizzling from the inside of his heart.

Anger is a very known feeling to him, an acquaintance to his impulses when he was younger. When he used to fall under his emotions with no regards to whoever received them, it got him into trouble more often than not, sometimes to the point he would wake up in a hospital bed after a bad beating against Tokyo’s gangs or whoever dared to mess with him.

Was it worth falling under those impulses again, when he has come far and grown from those times?

It is not his place, in truth, to be this angry. You are nothing to him, a friend at most after all. Should he be reeling in anger just because someone hurted you?

No, but he does it anyway.

Inside the rift, everything has its place. Time, space and matter all have their purpose set straight unlike him, who doesn’t really belong in this dimension and he bends them to his liking. When he goes through it, his body feels like it sinks underwater, although his movements are not deterred despite the feeling, it gets overwhelming if Yoru stays for too long.

Omen has once mentioned how it feels to leave a part of himself everytime he goes through the rift, does it hurt? Can he feel himself tearing apart? He doesn’t, he doesn’t feel any sort of pain, and Yoru wonders if that should concern him or shall not be too worried.

But no matter, that is of no importance right now.

It doesn’t take long for him to find Gekko while running through the base, the tip of his fingers tingling with the want to release some steam and chest heaving with anger seeping off of him.

Gekko is lounging at the range with Reyna by his side. His whole posture is slouched, head between his hands and avoiding Reyna’s gentle but confused expression.

Both are lucky he doesn’t carry a weapon or else a crime would have taken place at the base. He's bluffing, of course, because he wouldn't dare to harm others severely.

Yoru wishes he could, though.

For the time being, he will remain inside the rift and watch in silence. If he's going to punch Gekko until he becomes a pulp, he rather do it alone without witnesses. That and he doesn’t want to deal with Reyna’s wrath if she were to be present when he beats the shit out of this scum.

They seem to be talking about something, but it doesn't seem to be escalated enough to label it as an argument but it wasn’t a normal conversation either.

When he decides to take a closer look, he finds Gekko with a devastated expression on his face and eyes misty with a thin layer of tears. Is shocking, to say the least, being the witness to such an abnormal expression on the usual happy man.

Reyna is frowning, a tight line set on her lips and hand hovering over his shoulder, hesitant whether to touch him or not.

Through the rift, the sounds come garbled and sometimes impossible to discern with the huge gap between the time passing by and him floating in nothingness. Yoru approaches further, cautious, for maybe Reyna might be able to distinguish his soul in between the subtle breaking in the rift.

“Why did you have to break it off, though?” She mutters, a confused expression painting her features. “Las cosas iban bien entre ustedes, ¿no es así?”

Gekko shrugs, not wanting to voice his thoughts.

“She likes you, Teo,” Yoru doesn’t know what’s going on. “She likes you a lot, mijo.”

Gekko’s eyes look downcast, a sad smile tugging his lips.

“She might like me.” he whispers brokenly. “But she doesn’t love me.”

Yoru might be a killing machine on the field and a cold-hearted person towards others if he so desires; he’s been told so many times before. But at this moment, he understands that his anger should be quelled and tone it down a little bit, for he is not the only one who is hurt and he might have misinterpreted the whole situation.

What could be worse, than finding out the person you love doesn't share the same sentiment to the same degree as you do?

He's gone through the path once, way before meeting you, but never considered himself hurt because he was experimenting with said emotion. Because love is weird, a state in oneself where you are the weakest and he hated feeling like that.

It was thanks to you he decided to transform this weakness into a strength, despite knowing it could bite his ass one day. Yoru gave in to his desires with you, and he admits you acknowledging his intentions and reciprocating them gave him the sort of euphoria he doesn’t find often in fights.

Gekko is as upset as you might be, more hurt than one might think.

What should he do now?

Staring off into the distance, Yoru thinks emotions are bullshit and way too difficult to deal with.

Gekko and yourself have been a clear example to how far he can go because of some petty feeling like jealousy or lust, and how pathetic it made him act without thinking of the consequences—not like he's cared about that before.

But because of this, Jett has been his shoulder to cry on, and Phoenix his ear to lend when he feels like he cannot handle the mixed emotions into a devastating concoction of overwhelmingness.

Both have been the key to fix himself up and rebuild after learning of your relationship, despite reassuring with anger that he was fine when it was not true.

His friends are good and he doesn't deserve them, in truth, with how shitty he has been in the past. But for so long he has been denying himself the pleasure to get things that are meant to be his, and this is one of them.

Yoru will learn to heal and move on, sooner or later, and he hopes he can face you without feeling troubled or confused as to what he wants in life.

Things never get easier from afar.

“Launch site, be there in ten.” Brimstone calls out to him one day.

To say he scared the shit out of him would be an understatement, choking on his beverage before glaring at the commander with the dirtiest look he could muster.

He did not hear him coming, even when his loud stomping could be heard from down the hallway, but that is mostly his fault because of his lack of attention and disoriented mind. It should be obvious with the dark bags under his eyes and tired expression that he hasn't been getting enough sleep and was most likely out of it because Brimstone regards him with solemnity.

“It’s Ice box, Yoru.” he mentions. The name of the place alone makes him perk up in attention. “Anomalies have taken place recently, coming from the lab holding onto the samurai's armor.”

What?

“We’ve tracked down a wave of radianite that was ignited on icebox, but we weren’t sure from where exactly.” Brimstone takes out his device, approaching him on the kitchen table and laying it out for him to see. “Cypher was able to narrow it down to A site only, and by the looks of it, we aren’t the only ones who are after it.”

“The omega?” he asks, uncertain.

“They are approaching rapidly. We need to leave soon.”

That wakes him up, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Brimstone nods and takes his leave.

There is not much time before parting nor question who else was coming to Ice box with them. Not like it matters, but he rather have teammates that will work well alongside him for something as important as this.

Taking his jacket from his room and his butterfly knife, he wonders if the sudden anomaly on Ice box had anything to do with his restless nights for the past weeks.

An incognita were the nightmares that Yoru has had lately. It was never anything clear for him to guess or simply have a vague idea as to what it wanted, but with what Brimstone has told him, a lot of things cleared up.

Not the whole picture, but it was something to start from.

At the launch site, he encounters Sage and Reyna talking in hushed voices. Both of them regard him with a silent nod and go back to the conversation, but Reyna's eyes never leave his form while he keeps on walking—and if looks could kill, he would be underground in an instant. Yoru does his best to ignore it until he can no longer feel her threatening aura sticking to the back of his neck, and once to a safe distance, he sighs in relief.

Brimstone is at the entrance of the jet carrying an operator, securely strapped to his back, and a few other weapons on the carriage. He seems to be talking to someone inside the vehicle already, handing out the guns and the operator, but can't figure out who.

“Step in, Yoru, we are getting ready.” The commander calls. “I'll coordinate with Sage and Reyna, and we take off.”

Nodding, he enters, but his whole serious façade is gone the moment his eyes land on yours.

Perhaps it had to do with time, or the light working in your favor, but the moment you lock eyes, you literally take his breath away with surprise painting his features. It almost seems like you were expecting him with the way you perk up in excitement as soon as you see him.

Smiling softly, you pat the seat next to yours, beckoning him to approach you.

“I didn't know you were coming.” He comments, clearing up his throat. “Should've said something.”

“It was a last minute call.” Shrugging, he notices the strap of the operator in arm, but says nothing. “Brimstone was unsure whether to call you in or leave you out of this. But with how things were going, I decided it was for the best if you came and asked him to look for you.”

“Hah, missed me that much?”

Yoru really never learns, huh.

Is natural for him to want to tease you, so used to it that now, even after so long without speaking nor crossing words, he has the urge to interact with you this way.

“I did, Yoru.” You answer with honesty. The look in your eyes has him paralyzed, feeling his face flush with the short distance between you two. It reminisces the moment where you first kissed in the kitchen, and that only fuels his embarrassment because it could be so easy to lean in and kiss you again. “I-um, I missed you a lot.”

Brimstone stomps in the jet, raising a brow when he sees Yoru jump on his seat, startling him once again, and fixes his composure before the two of you look at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, we’re just catching up.” Your hand covers his own hand laying on his lap, squeezing it with gentleness until your fingers intertwine. “Been a while.”

Brimstone nods, going to the cockpit without any further questions. Sage and Reyna follow up next, both of them regarding you two with a respective nod and taking a seat in front of you.

Cowardice isn't a term known by Yoru, scratching it up and dunking it on the trash since he is by no means a coward. But with how heavy Reyna's stare is, burning holes into your gentle but loving clasping hands, he is starting to get why some people are afraid.

You distract him enough, though, speaking in a soft tone about what has been going on lately and the missions you haven't shared since Lotus—there is no mention of the situation you had when you first kissed, but he is soon to push it to the back of his mind to save you the trouble.

Surprisingly, he is able to maintain eye contact for longer than he expects without embarrassment clouding his senses, following up your peppy conversation with a few grunts and short replies.

Throughout the whole flight, your hand never leaves his.

x x x x

Ice box is just as he remembers.

Empty, freezing, but with a whole new wave of unknown power radiating from the old labs.

Yoru gets why Brimstone was so unsure to bring him along.

The pulsating beckoning of energy was nauseating and tiring; a migraine approaching fastly and making him lose his footing as soon as he steps off the jet.

Sage is there in an instant, clear worry across her features and helping him to stabilize himself.

“Are you okay?” She asks. Her hands are glowing a soft blue, her healing abilities ready for him if need be.

Yoru is close to dismissing her help, annoyed to be treated so delicately, but before he could muster a word, a spike of pain strikes his head, groaning in discomfort and his side hits the entrance of the landing.

Leaving the operator on the floor, you run to where Yoru has fallen to the floor, and grasp him tightly by the shoulders to help him sit comfortably.

Holding his head between his hands, he grunts, eyes tightly shut and breathing heavily through his nose. His head is pounding horribly, sounds he doesn't know where they were coming from was deafening him heavily that all your voices were melting together in the background.

He sees the moment the sounds stop completely, mouths moving and actions on going but nothing else. Instead, a gruffing and heavy voice is what resonates inside his brain, like an echo, and a womanly voice accompanies it when they call to him.

‘Come’, they whisper, ‘Come to us.’

Your hand goes straight to his back, caressing him with soothing motions and whispers of gentle words. Respectfully, nothing you are doing helps with his pain nor confusion drowning him. It is kind of annoying, too, but Yoru likes you too much to say something of the sort and lets you do whatever you want.

‘Find him.’

And then it ceases completely. The sounds from his environment come back with a sudden burst he feels his ears sensible with the many voices trying to talk one above the other. Is overwhelming.

“We cannot continue with Yoru in this state.” Brimstone walks up to where Yoru is sitting, patting his back with a strong push. The japanese man holds back an insult at his action. “You’re staying. There is no time to go back and bring someone else to replace you, so stay here.”

“I can still fight-”

“No. And that’s an order.” He nods to Reyna and Sage to go on ahead. “Survey A site, I’ll take mid and we will strike as soon as I give the order.”

Sage glances at him from the corner of her eyes, worried, but complies with Brimstone's request. Reyna follows after her without regarding him at all but with a scoff, vandal at hand and the most graceful walking she could muster.

If Yoru wasn’t in so much pain, he would have laughed to mock her. He can have all the respect for Reyna and her tactical abilities, but to be this childish over whatever she was feeling was ridiculous in his eyes.

Brimstone calls you out, startling you, “Survey B site but don’t push. You’re gonna be alone so we can’t gamble losing a team member this easily, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Brimstone gives a brief glance at him before leaving you two alone.

Grunting, his fist hits the side of the floor, frustrated. The only time where he needs to be in the best shape is ruined by god knows what, that he doesn’t know who to blame it on.

“Yoru, is it okay if I speak this softly? Does it hurt you?” Your hand hovers over his fist, thumb running up and down his spiked knuckles.

He breathes out harshly, nodding.

“The enemy team has brought Yoru, too, and the chances of him suffering what you're going through are high.” Hand under his chin, he lets you raise his head gently to lock gazes. The pain subsides for a little bit, enough to have clarity and melt under the beautiful color of your eyes looking at him with so much emotion. “Don't worry about not coming, their Yoru might have to back off from this just like you, so there is no need to worry.”

Kissing the top of his head, you stand up and take your gun back. Reloading the ammo, you strap on the operator and send him a small smile before walking away.

“We'll figure out what happens after we're done, for now take a rest.”

The normality of your actions only furthers his want to go after you, seeing you walk away with a steady step. Nevermind the pain clouding his senses, he cannot help but worry for whatever might happen if you were to stay alone.

And it doesn’t have to do with him doubting your skills, but the inability to do something to help because of some dumb bullshit about the radianite and the armor still under vigilance in the labs.

The voices from before might have something to do with the anomalies, but he isn’t sure whether to trust his guts or just wait for some miracle to happen to figure it out. The headache won’t be going away anytime soon nor the pain racking his whole body, and he isn’t going to stay at the landside where there won’t be any action unfolding.

Standing up slowly, Yoru grunts in discomfort, losing his footing the first try but finding support on the wall the second time.

He taps on the private line immediately, breathing a sigh of relief when you answer quickly to his call.

“Yoru, what’s wrong?” Your voice comes in rushed, a subtle undertone of worry honeying your words. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?”

“I-I’m okay. I need-”

Everything turns black for a second. The single second where all matters and nothing does at the same time.

The numbness on his limbs, the rush of memories, the excruciating pain destroying him from the inside; this all feels familiar and nostalgic, reviving the moment where his life changed and there was no turning back from the powers gifted to him.

‘Look for us', they plead. ‘Find him.'

The moment he blinks the sky greets him with a bright shine, blinding him for a moment and taking his time adjusting to it. Your face comes into view after a few seconds, a frown between your eyebrows and mouth set in a tight line.

The light from above gives you a crown of light, glowing softly against your skin Yoru might have commented on it if it weren’t for his lucidity and catching his tongue on time.

When he breathes, he doesn’t feel any sort of pain.

It almost feels like it never was there to begin with, which is surprising given the circumstances.

“Yoru?” Your voice quivers with anxiousness.

“Hm.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in a weak attempt to appear cool. “M'fine, just…dizzy.”

“Here, sit.”

You manage to make Yoru sit without any trouble, looking for any signs of injury or distress from his pain early on, but find nothing to worry about. He seems fine, better than before, for sure.

The japanese man pushes you to the side gently, creating enough space for him to stand up and pat down his clothes to clear it from debris or snow sticking to the fabric. You are still watching him like a hawk in case he starts losing his footing, but Yoru scoffs, offended, and walks past where you're kneeling.

“Aren't you coming? We've got a mission to fulfill.”

Flabbergasted, you blink up at him, mouth opening and closing without any words making it out.

“Yoru,” you start gently, standing up. “Brimstone was very clear with his instructions. You have to stay here if you are unable to perform.”

“I look fine, don’t I? Let’s go.”

“Wh- Yoru, you couldn’t even stand minutes ago and now you’re acting all tough?” You point at the jet, “Go back. This whole act isn’t cool.”

The wind blows by strongly, ruffling his well kept hair, but no words of daring come from his mouth. Instead, he leans into the side, cocking his head and smirking at your attempt to be bossy.

“Who’s going to make me stay, you?” Giving a dry laugh, he crosses his arms. “Go on, try it, little minx.”

“Don’t make me start, Yoru, or else-”

“Or else what?”

You breathe in heavily, counting to ten inside your head to not snap at him nor disrespect him.

“You have to follow what Brimstone has told you.” You retort, muttering through clenched teeths. “You stay here because I say so, too.”

“Oh yeah? And when has that stopped me?”

Spluttering, your anger rises with the tone in your voice, “I have no fucking idea, so stop acting like a fucking brat and stay!”

Not wanting to give him a chance to reply, you turn around and stomp your way to B site just like Brimstone delegated. You hear Yoru walk right behind you, oblivious to your demand, and you cannot help the little vein protruding on your forehead with the anger consuming you.

“Fucking bitch.” You mutter under your breath. Walking backwards, you shout at him. “Is it that hard to listen to instructions?! What is your deal?”

“I can’t leave you alone.” is his reply, which infuriates you more. “I’m good. I will go with you.”

“Do you really not trust my own abilities? Weren’t you the one who said that you all should be more trusting of my skills when we went to Lotus?” Scoffing, you turn your back to him, climbing up the stairs to the kitchen. “Unbelievable, you are truly unbelievable and a hypocrite.”

“It has nothing to do with your ability or not. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Hah! Sure, as if that were all.”

“Would you even stop for a second if I were to say anything else?” Rolling his eyes, he continues. “You cannot even trust me when I tell you I’m fine and now you want me to follow your rules?”

Not even looking at him, you reply, “Yeah! That would be nice!”

“Stop for a second damnit! Listen to me!”

You don’t. You cross the threshold of the kitchen and he runs up to you like a little kid about to throw a tantrum. Taking your hand into his, he tries to make you stop and look at him, but you snatch it away immediately.

“I love you.” he blurts out.

That is enough to stop you dead in your tracks, not giving him a glance nor reply to his words. Yoru feels his face burn with embarrassment but is determined to let his feelings be known after so long. Whether you reciprocate or not, is all up to you. Whether this is the correct place to be outing his feelings, he is not sure.

The contrast of the cold brushing his warm cheeks in gentle breezes sends a shiver down his spine, blaming the weather for the wavering puffs of air coming out of his mouth and not because of the sudden nervousness eating him from the inside.

After a long minute, that almost feels like many years in his opinion, you resume your walking with him tailing behind you. Yoru wonders if you’ve heard him correctly or perhaps you misunderstood his words.

“I said I love y-”

“I know.” you interrupt, gaze set straight in front of you. “Gekko told me so but I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t until we kissed that night that I realized I was pretty dumb for not noticing your feelings.”

Yoru would think this was some sort of rejection, not really understanding if you were reprimanding him for kissing you or telling you he loves you when you already know. But looking closely, he sees the tip of your ears redden with each step, refusing to meet him in the eye.

“You should go back to the jet. Brimstone is going to be mad at us.”

“I don't care.”

“Well, you should! I ain't taking responsibility if something happens to you.”

“I don't need protection nor for you to take responsibility. I'm here right now because you need to know that I love you and I won’t be leaving you alone.”

“Okay! I get it!”

Smirking slightly, he jogs to your side and bumps shoulders with you. You shot him a dirty look, pouting when he finally sees the red on your cheeks is not because of the cold but from his words.

“What about you?” he dares ask.

“What about me?” you echo, annoyed.

Yeah, what about you? Was he expecting to hear the same words of professing love from you? He just wanted to get rid of these thoughts cluttering his brain and distracting him, to be free, in some sort of way. Yoru hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable with his sudden confession.

Humming, you give him a side glance and a grin, “You sure are very confident for someone who doesn't know what the other feels.” Bumping his shoulder back, you walk ahead of him. “I love you too.”

Oh.

You love him.

Having you say those words sparks some sort of hope he buried deep within his heart, digging them back to surface. His face is lit in flames within seconds, and he tries to hide it behind a raised hand and looks the other way to avoid you seeing it.

Is clear he does a poor job trying to conceal his embarrassment and excitement because as soon as you get a glimpse of his face, you laugh brightly, poning his side to mock him. That only worsens his state, face hot and red as a pepper.

Once you two are deep in the kitchen, you take a bold decision.

Pushing Yoru against the halls, your hand tangles behind his head, pulling on his roots and clashing your mouths together on a bruising kiss. Is obvious he wasn’t expecting this kind of action from you because he groans loudly, leaning into the hand pulling at his hair harshly and melting under your liplock with a sigh.

He doesn’t take long to hold onto your waist and turn the tables, caging you against the wall this time and giving you the same treatment of roughness by holding you behind your neck and his left hand grabbing you by the waist, slotting your hips together.

Is a little uncomfortable being in this position because the operator is still strapped to your back, but Yoru makes it work with bending you to his body and making you forget about the gun when he takes your chin between his fingers and makes some distance.

Whining, you close the gap once again, not giving him time to take a breath and sticking your tongue inside his mouth to maintain contact.

He consumes your fire from within like a starved man, sucking on your lower lip and biting it as gently as his hands paws over your whole form, basking in the feeling of your mouths clasped together and the tight hold you have on his hair every time his hands travel to to your backside.

You pull on his hair harshly when his left hand grabs a fistful of your ass and he groans, trying to make distance to breathe in some air, but you gasp loudly when his lips attach to your neck immediately, nibbling on the skin and sucking desperately to mark your skin.

“We need to survey B site, Yoru, let go.” You moan at one particular bite, sighing when his hands try to go under your clothes. You smack his hands away, flustered and a little bit angry. “God dammit, Ryo, not now.”

“Says the one who started this, little minx.” he teases, licking up a strip of saliva from your collarbone to your neck.

Huffing, you push him off of you, resuming your walking with the little dignity you still hold and cleaning the spit in the corner of your mouth. Yoru prides himself in seeing you this disheveled over him, imagining what else could he do if you let him be.

Gotta calm down, now. He doesn’t want to deal with the bad guys with a hard-on now, does he?

“So?” he asks. You blink up at him. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Feelings are difficult, I guess.” Shrugging, you strap off your operator. “I understand why the fraternization rule was made, it only gets in the way of our job. That’s why Gekko and I never worked.”

“Does it, now?”

Brimstone is saying something through the comms, but neither of you pay him any mind. Yoru nudges your side with his arm, and you cannot escape the small smile tugging at your lips.

“We can talk about ourselves later.” is all you say before setting off. “We have all the time in the world, Ryo.”

Smiling, he straps off his Sheriff.

He likes the way you say his name.

“Whatever, you idiot.”

x x x x

Yoru doesn't want to admit that he was weak throughout the fight.

Not because of his abilities nor aim—he would fight whoever thinks he whiffs his shots— but because he let the enemies run away in one piece when he had the chance of eliminating them for good.

The excuse of running out of bullets was believable, having only a sheriff and a few reloads while defending the site, and you backing up his report helped a lot. Besides, Brimstone was more focused on his disobedience in a clear order than letting go of the omega agents, so he supposes that was enough of a distraction.

The intel was right, omega Yoru was here, alongside your omega version. It seems like they were set off to lurk while the rest of the team attacked A site and they were to wrap around your base to corner you all.

It backfired immediately.

Your aim was impeccable, as always. He didn't know you were proficient with the operator but it was no joke when you had the gun in hand and targets to shoot.

But, in truth, he is tempted to think you let them go, too, because they were injured enough but not dead by the bullets that were fired.

Your omega version stood in front of omega Yoru, protecting him from the bullets that weren’t coming through anymore. Both of them were bleeding and with wounds that could probably kill them if it were not to be treated correctly and on time.

“Please,” your omega version begs. They have a shorty, only, discarding it to the side to mean no harm. “Take me if you want, but don't touch him.”

Yoru's eyes travels from you to omega Yoru, who is panting harshly behind the other you. The omega snarls, furious, to be witnessed by his mirror to this weak state.

He knows himself, knows the other must feel pathetic and frustrated for not doing more and failing so miserably on this mission. The pride is high and wild, so who better than himself to understand the situation at hand.

Yoru loads his last bullet to the sheriff, and you shrivel up in panic. Your stance hasn't changed, your tattered body still shielding omega Yoru despite the pain and that is something he respects.

“Should I shoot?” your voice comes from the comms. He knows you're still aiming and watching in silence whatever is unfolding on site, but you don't interfere further than to ask that question.

“I have it under control.” Is all he answers.

A bullet is shot, and your omega version gasps in unison with omega Yoru when they see the bullet go a few centimeters off the side, not even gracing them.

“What-?”

“Leave.” Yoru straps on his sherriff, taking out his butterfly knife instead to play with it while he waits in silence. When neither of you react, he raises a brow. “Want me to carry you to your own base or what? Leave now before Brimstone comes, he won't be merciful.”

That was their cue to start moving.

You try to carry omega Yoru as best as you could, having his arm around your shoulders and your hand holding onto his jeans for leverage. Giving him a brief glance, you thank him quietly before starting to walk away with urgency.

“Wait.” Omega Yoru tries to turn around, glaring at his alpha version. “It's because of her, isn't it? Is it the same for you?”

You nudge him, eyes pleading for him to keep walking,“Yoru, stop.”

“No. I want to know why.” His mirror grunts in pain, almost colliding against the wall if it weren't for your hold. “I know me. And I know I would have shot if it weren't because of her. So I need to know if it's the same for you.”

Yoru decides to not answer, since everything is already laid out for them. He knows you are listening through the comms, so whatever his answer is, you should've known by now.

“So it is.” he mutters, giving a dry laugh. “This is going to be the death of us one day.”

“Love, let’s go.” Your mirror mutters. He nods, and they take off.

“Ice box is fucking cursed, Yoru.” The other says. “The voices are torturing, trying to be helpful, but this place is cursed for us.”

You never said anything, watching the duo walk away as best as they could with the sun setting in the background.

The trail of blood they leave behind is the only clue that a battle has unfolded and they were once again victorious, although it felt nothing like a victory to him.

The words from omega Yoru would stay with him, storing the information for future investigation, and haunting him until his next confrontation takes place.

“I think you did good.” Eating a slice of the apple, you glance briefly at him, interrupting his thoughts. “Letting them go, I mean. I think it was good.”

He scoffs, “I was weak. A mistake I won’t be making again if we encounter them in the future.”

Shaking your head, you lean your head to the side, “You had mercy on them. I think this is a step that was necessary to take to change the dynamic we’re living in.”

Blinking down at you, he raises a brow, “What do you mean by that?”

Your fingers tap the table in a rhythmic motion, mulling over his question for a moment before replying, “I don’t think it is necessary to be killing them, despite having done so already many times before.” Shrugging, you take another slice. “Call me naive or just a hopeless romantic, but what they had is something I respect a lot. They are humans, too, not just some kind of experimentation we can look over. They…they might have an explanation for the radianite and their need.”

Yoru rolls his eyes with skepticism, crossing his arms with disappointment in his eyes.

“This is my way of thinking.” You defend. “You can have yours, but we both know that nothing might change unless we are the one’s meddling in the battlefield.”

“You’re willing to risk it all to prove that an amicable relationship can be doable?”

Humming, you nod, “I do.”

“You’re dumb, then.”

“Maybe, but only time will tell if I’m right.”

“Suit yourself.”

Both of you fall in silence, eating from the plate the few slices of apple that are left. Only the buzzing from the refrigerator makes a background noise to cover up the long and suffocating topic that none of you want to touch now.

Yoru is nervous, you are nervous, but you are too cowardly to take the first step.

Mission aside, what happened at ice box when you kissed again was supposed to be the bridge to start a conversation about what would entail knowing each other’s feelings. One would believe that something might have happened by now, but here you are.

In silence.

“I think I’ll take my leave.” He coughs awkwardly, standing from the chair. “Goodnight.”

It was almost like a mirror situation many weeks ago. Where he leaves and you are left confused, wanting, and you cannot bear the thought of dealing this by yourself again.

When he bids you goodbye, you unconsciously reach for his hand, immediately stopping him from going further and he looks back at you.

When none of you say anything, you brave yourself through your nervousness to break the distance and take his face with your free hand, caressing his cheek with tenderness.

Yoru lets you do whatever you want, anxiousness seeping out of him when you tiptoe to reach him and, in an act to fulfill your impulses, you kiss the corner of his mouth with a gentle touch.

The japanese man stifles at the contact, gasping when your lips travel from a mere graze, to groaning when your mouth captures him in a passionate kiss, lips melting together sweetly like honeycomb.

You hold him like you desire to be devoured completely; reaching, grabbing and tugging everywhere until his body engulfs yours against the counter of the kitchen and you hold onto his shoulders for leverage. His hands rise goosebumps under your clothes, big palms caressing the skin on your back, racking down his nails until he feels your shudder.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this was wrong of you to do. If Gekko would mind you chasing after what you really want despite having failed him miserably while together.

Gekko is none the wiser, your brain supplies, and you hope it stays that way.

You tug playfully at his lower lip with your teeth before diving to get more of him, mouths slotting together on a more profound kiss and tongues fighting to claim dominance. It is then that any rational thought goes out of the window.

His hand finds purchase on your hips, yours tugs at his hair, earning a groan from him which you immediately swallow with greed. Yoru has half the mind to think about what he's doing when his hand brushes your thighs and pulls you up until you're seated on the counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless.

Yoru's mouth kisses every inch of skin to his availability, sucking on your neck with want until you have your head thrown back, enticing him to mark every part of you.

“We should stop.” He begs, but his actions betray his words when he rolls his hips against your core, cock twitching inside his pants. You whisper his name, returning the favor and caging him between your legs.

You can feel his erection even through all the clothing between your bodies, lust clouding your mind with nothing but the good sensations despite feeling guilt gnaw at the pit of your stomach.

That does not deter you from purchasing the euphoria coursing through your body when you rock your hips again, his clothed cock rubbing deliciously against you till the point your words get slurred.

This is not the right place for this kind of situation to be unfolding. You both are too exposed for anyone to walk into, and the least he wants is to show the other agents the boner he is sporting right now. Besides, he is sure to go feral with anger if anyone dares to see you this disheveled and flustered.

This sight is for him alone.

Claiming his mouth, your hand let go of his hair to reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. Yoru freezes when your hand goes into his trousers to grab at his dick shamelessly, thumb running over the head of his cock. Gasping, he hides his blushing face in the crook of your neck, hips thrusting in tandem to your slow pumps to rile him up.

“You feel so hot.” you whisper in his ear. He bites your neck and sucks on the skin to have his mouth occupied. “You are so hard, love.”

He gasps when you twist your wrist and your thumb runs over the head of his cock again, spreading the pre-cum and messily using it as a lube to pump your hand faster on his shaft. You feel him twitch in your hand when you accelerate the pace and tremble when his warm breath hits your cheek in gasps.

“Faster…” he mutters, groaning. The timbre of his voice lowers a few octaves, and it's of immediate urgency to keep listening to more. “Shit, go faster.”

You indulge in his request, hand moving to a faster pace, and feeling the veins protruding on his cock between your fingers. Your mouth glues to his neck, nibbling it softly and biting down, hard, until a mark is visible against his pale skin.

The schlik-schlik sounds in the background are filthy to the ears, Yoru feels his face flush up with embarrassment to have been reduced to a puddle of lust and trembling legs from the overwhelming sensations.

Pushing him away, Yoru groans in frustration because he was close to being ripped to the seams with the upcoming orgasm. The momentum is gone, and he is not sure whether to be angry at you or beg you to please keep going.

But by the time he decides what to do, you’re already on your knees, pulling down his pants until his member is freed from its confines and your mouth sucks on his cock with an invigorated enthusiasm that has him grasping the counter for leverage.

His right hand goes to the roots of your hair, pulling and pushing your head in tandem with the thrusting of his hips. Yoru abuses your mouth to his liking, chasing after the little fire burning him on his lower abdomen and to let loose.

Groaning, his eyes roll to the back of his head when your tongue comes into play, licking the underside of his dick with each stroke of your mouth. Yoru leaves your head to hold his weight with both of his hands onto the counter, knees weak and breath taken away.

You use your hand to keep the stimulation going, giving you time to catch some air and glare at him from down there. Despite having his face flushed, sweat rolling down his temple and trembling under your touch, he dares smirk at you, as if he has gotten away with something he’s been wanting to do for a long time.

“You fucking brat.” you whisper, mouth latching onto the side of his cock and your free hand toying with his balls.

Yoru whimpers, he fucking whimpers, the moment your mouth sucks on the head of his dick and your hands wrap around the rest of his member with fast strokes, bobbing your head up and down, and timing it with his weak thrusts, you hum, vibrations running up his cock deliciously.

You try to close your legs while kneeling, trying to get some friction to alleviate the pressure on your lower belly and the need to touch yourself; but you are prioritizing Yoru’s pleasure above else right now, enjoying his salty taste in your mouth and gulping down the pre-cum gathering with your spit.

“Fuck!” he curses. His hips stutter wildly, head thrown back and eyes closed when the sudden rush of euphoria courses through his body.

Yoru cums inside your mouth moaning your name and gasping for air.

He holds your head with a tight grip, spurting his seed inside your mouth in big spurts until you have no other option but to swallow it, choking on his cock when the tip hits the back of your throat.

Yoru rides his orgasm as if his life depended on it, breathless and hitting a high point where his noises couldn’t be contained.

Backing off, Yoru slides down next to you, breathing heavily and slumping against your form in defeat and burrowing his head on your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. Is funny how he seeks physical contact like a little cat, voiceless and going for it.

You’re coughing up harshly, part of his cum still drooling to the side of your lips.

“You owe me one.” You say, knocking your heads together.

He only hums, satisfaction oozing out of him, and cleans the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“You can cash in right now, baby girl.”

Trembling, you look to the side, bashful, “Don’t get all flirty with me now.” Giving him a brief glance, you blush when you see his dick still out of his pants and butt naked against the floor. “You fucking idiot, put on your pants!”

Yoru laughs softly, nuzzling your neck and kissing the pulse with gentleness. You can’t help but sigh at his change in demeanor.

“I’ll do so if you promise to come to my room with me.” his lips caress the shell of your ear, kissing it. You give a surprised giggle at that. “Hm, what do you say?”

x x x x

The moment your back hits the bed, Yoru is taking your pants away, pulling them with carefulness but urgency in his actions until you are bare from the waist down. He messily takes your shoes, too, and you save half the work by unbuttoning your shirt and unclasping your brassier so you can be bare for him.

Yoru is grunting, snarling almost like an animal, when he pounces on you and his lip attaches to your neck with ferociousness, biting and sucking harshly on the skin till it reddens. He makes room between your legs, your glistering folds rubbing against his jeans while he cages you against the bed and devours you with hunger.

Your hand tugs at his hair, finding out that he seems to like the rough treatment as much as you do, and your legs closes around his waist, grinding against him in search of some friction to alleviate yourself.

His right hand palms over your breast, fingertips running over your nipples while his mouth makes way to your other breast, sucking in with the same fervor he did with your marked neck. Biting softly on your nipple, his tongue flattens against your skin, licking it up and sucking until you curve your back, shrieking from the sudden action.

“Again-!” You plead, hips stuttering, and hands holding onto the sheets by your head. “Again, Ryo, please.”

He does as you say. Mouth sucking on your breast while his hand toys with your nipple. The left hand that was holding onto your waist goes straight to your core, fingers pressing against the outer lips but not entering, teasing you with gentle strokes, pads running softly over your clit but is not enough.

You need more.

“Ryo, I swear to fucking god if you don’t put that mouth to work I’m going to kill you.” Grabbing him by his hair, you pull, hard, and the motherfucker has the nerve to give you a cheeky grin, licking his lips.

“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Yoru moves out of the way until he is sitting on the floor right next to the bed, and with a strong pull, he takes your legs to rest above his shoulder and hands hold you by the waist tightly.

Before you could utter a word, nervous, he dives into your pussy, licking up a stripe with harshness that has you trembling under his touch. You moan his name shamelessly, gasping for air when he sucks on your little nub of nerves and his fingers prod on your entrance.

Coated in your juices, two of his fingers slide in easily, pumping them in and out slowly, and dragging his pads against your walls and timing it with his sucks. Being pressed between your legs and eating you out has to be one of the best things in the world, and he cannot begin to describe how aroused and hard you’re making him with your taste and moans coming from your mouth.

Your hands tangle in his hair, swapping between pulling at his roots or pushing his head to drown in your folds. Your hips are moving against his mouth erratically, riding in the feeling of his fingers and tongue on your pussy, wearing you down with each stroke of his appendage.

“Ryo, Ryo- Ah!” Head thrown back, you gasp when his fingers leave your hole to replace it with his mouth, tongue abusing your entrance rapidly and fingers going to your clitoris to rub them in tandem.

Stars were starting to cloud your vision, feeling the tight knot on your belly so close to snapping you can feel the orgasm tethering on the brim. Your hands travel to your chest, touching yourself with eagerness while being watched by your lover. You can almost feel his smile against your pussy, enjoying the show, which only riles you up.

But before you could combust and cum all over his face, Ryo makes distance, pushing you away but not before giving a last lick to your outer lips, legs trembling on each side of his face, that he smirks up at you.

“We haven’t finished yet, little minx.”

Furious for being denied of your climax, you punch him in the chest, “Fucking shit, Ryo! I was so fucking close-”

“Shhh,” he silences you, kissing your mouth with your taste on his tongue. He looks disheveled, raw, it makes you drip with want. His hands hovers over your perky nipples, flicking them with a devious smile playing on his lips. “It only gets better now.”

He strips down easily, throwing his jacket to the side of the bed while taking his shoes off. Pulling down his pants, you see his cock fully erect and bouncing slightly against his abs, flushed red with the tip smeared with his pre-cum.

He pumps his cock a few times, pushing you against the mattress and devouring the sight as if you were a meal.

His chest is pressed against yours, leaning down to gently lay his lips to yours, and holding his weight with both of his arms on either side of your head. Yoru doesn't notice your tiny hand making its way to his cock, too concentrated on your lips and the hand pulling on his hair.

Guiding his dripping cock to your entrance, you open your legs to accommodate him easily and, with the help of your legs, you push him inside.

The head of his member breaches your entrance, a shiver runs down your spine when he bullies his way inside you slowly, walls clamping down on him and pulsating with lust running down your veins.

Yoru groans in unison with you when he's fully in, your legs holding him in place to make the feeling of being connected this deeply last longer.

Touching your face, Yoru rests his forehead against yours, breaths intermingling in soft pants. Cupping his face, your thumbs run down his cheekbones, looking deeply into his eyes before kissing his lips in a soft peck.

“I love you,” You whisper, eyes clouded with love and affection. Smiling, he kisses your cheek.

Yoru slowly distances himself, pulling his hips away until the tip of his member is the only thing still in contact with your vagina, before thrusting hard into you. The sound of skin against skin is deafening, dirty and exciting for both who are enjoying this act of love, jolting with waves of .

His hips continue to move in a slow but steady rhythm, causing your begs and moans to rush out of your mouth hurriedly. Yoru is nothing but giving, accelerating the pace to your liking and watching in amusement the change in expression on your face.

Shouting his name, Yoru can't take it anymore. The speed increases, pelvis against pelvis, sweat rolling down your chest and seeing your breasts bounce with each thrust into your cunt only makes him lose control.

Nevermind the soft and calm Yoru from before, the moment your moans got to him is when he finally lets loose his mouth.

“You like that, huh? You fucking slut.” Grunting, he raises your legs to rest on his shoulders and bends you over in half. You can’t help but whine in embarrassment because of this position and the words uttered by him. “I bet Gekko didn't fuck you like this, right? I bet he doesn't even know how to please a woman.”

Your walls clench painfully around his cock at his words. Yoru's eyes roll to the back of his head when your entrance gets tighter, sucking him in. With one of his hands, he starts masturbating you with fast flicks of his wrist, timing it with his thrusts rapidly.

“Does he even know how good you taste? Or how filthy you are, sucking cock like a desperate whore?” Licking up your neck, he whispers in your ear, “Imagine if he were to see you like this, being fucked by me and cumming around my cock.”

“Ryo, I'm so close, please, so close!” You gasp, feeling your climax approach rapidly with how good Ryo is drilling into you.

“I'm going to fill that pussy of yours with my cum so everyone will know you belong to me.” he warns, a wicked smile tugging on his lips. “I'm going to mark every inch of your body as mine, understood? You’re going to be a good girl and take it all.”

Nodding, your hands hold onto his back, nails running down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, “Your good girl, yes-”

Yoru grunts heavily, loading his cum inside of you and fucking his seed deep inside with weak thrusts, riding his orgasm with closed eyes and mouthing your neck with lovebites. You follow soon after, the stimulation of his cock pushing in his cum and his fingers pressing against your clit is enough to send you over the edge and finally break, moaning his name and hips stuttering with the waves of the climax.

Slumping on top of you, he breathes heavily, trying to get in some air and enjoying the post-orgasmic experience with your hands brushing the hair out of his face gently.

You kiss the top of his head, smooching your way down until all you can reach is his forehead. He hums, raising his eyes and locking gazes silently.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Sticking your tongue out, you pinch on the bare skin of his shoulder, making him jolt in surprise and glare at you with a pout.

Yoru hovers over your body, resting his body weight on his arms and gives you a peck on the lips before standing up and going to the adjacent bathroom to bring a wet towel. Rolling to your stomach, you cross your arms under your head and watch him walk around freely and naked, admiring the view immensely.

His muscles ripple when he bends over to reach for the towel, watching his back with the mark of your nail alongside scars from past battles. You’ve never noticed, but Yoru with his hair down was a whole nother person to see, giving his sharp features a softer look with his hair framing his eyes and a boyish look that has you melting on the inside.

When he sees you ogling him shamelessly, he can’t help the flush on his cheeks and shyness for being this vulnerable in front of you. He throws the towel to your head to distract himself; that body of yours is enticing in every way possible, and he doesn’t want to look too eager to keep going.

“You’re a degenerate, clean yourself up.”

Laughing, you take the towel and lay down between his pillows to clean between your legs carefully. “Says the pervert who called me, what was it? A whore for your cock? A slut? Your words were colorful there, Ryo.”

Yoru grunts, sitting next to you on bed and stealing the towel from your hands. He makes you scoot closer and starts scooping out the cum oozing from your vagina with gentleness and avoiding it touching his sheets.

The pressure he applies is enough to spark a new wave of heat on your lower abdomen, biting your lower lip to refrain from sighing out loud when the fabric stimulates you.

His fingers clean the remaining of both of your cum with a gentle brush, fingers caressing around your clit softly and watching your flustered expression focus on what his hands are doing.

Wanting to tease you, he applies pressure on the little nub, making circular motions to heighten the tension and sees you throw your head back. You whine, hips raising to seek the touch desperately. Moving your hand on top of his, you guide his movements from up and down, making his thumb tease your hole and your hips roll against both of your hands.

“Someone wants more of this pervert.” He mutters.

“Ryo…”

Kissing your legs, he licks his lips, discarding the towel to the side and making his way to your core slowly.

“Here comes round two, love.”

#seneitut writes #yoru x reader #yoru smut #valorant smut #does this count as gekko x reader?

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