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siampie · 5 months ago

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Finding You||Chapter 5

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse, abandonment issues

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @sunflowersandsapphires; @schneeflocky; @danzer8705; @ebathory997;

@shouldbestudying41; @beezusvreeland; @lulukings92

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You felt safe in his arms. They were solid, strong and warm. And there, standing in your kitchen, he was giving you the comfort you had longed for the night before. Eventually, you had to pull away from him. Reluctantly.

You cleared your throat, taking a step back away from him. “Thanks for—uh, listening and staying.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No worries,” Michael scratched the back of his neck. “I was just being a good neighbor.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Were you now?” You glanced up at him. “Is that becoming our thing or something?”

“Might be.” He chuckled. “Hey,” His eyes were on you, roaming over your face. He had not yet stepped away from you. “If you need me, I’m right next door. For anythin’. Just—don’t hesitate, alright?”

You nodded slowly, “I won’t.”

His kind and warm hazel eyes stared deeply into yours. The intensity of his stare clashed with the softness of his eyes. And it only drew you in further. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes drawn to the gesture. His hands tentatively came to rest on your arms. When you didn’t pull away, his fingers wrapped around your biceps as he took a step closer. Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart beat faster under your ribcage. But not out of fear, this time.

The tension in the room grew thicker. In this moment, you were drawn to each other. Your palms rested against his chest. The intensity of his gaze ignited a fire within you. You had not had many relationships in your life. Practically none. You had been stuck your entire life taking care of your dad and your siblings. You barely had time to take care of yourself or even enjoyed going out with friends. Let alone being part of the dating scene. To put it bluntly, you had never seriously dated anyone. Many things were still unfamiliar to you. And Michael’s intense stare was one of them. You had never had anyone stare at you the way Michael was. It excited and scared you at the same time.

You fisted his shirt, involuntarily stepping closer to him. Your body somehow being drawn to him. One of his hands slid up your arm and cupped your jaw, as he gently brought his forehead to yours. His breath fanned over your face. Your eyes landing on his lips. You felt suddenly ashamed. You wanted to kiss him. You only had to lean up but—he would know. He would know as soon as you kissed him that you were cruelly lacking experiences. And he was Michael Kinsella, you were sure he had his fair share of experiences with women. You were sure he had dated more than a few. How could he have not? Anyone with two eyes and a beating heart would be attracted to Michael Kinsella, regardless of his familial background.

Your pulse quickened in anticipation because in spite of your lacking in experience, you wanted to kiss him. You really did. And he shifted his head slightly, clearly going for the kiss. You stopped breathing in anticipation, waiting for his lips to meet yours. Your eyes had fallen shut—

The shrill sound of your ringtone startled you. You pulled away with a gasp, your almost kiss interrupted. “Shit,” you cussed. Both you and Michael had turned to where the sound came from. You glared at the device, internally cussing your brother for not taking the hint and ruining the mood.

You let go of Michael’s shirt and stepped away from him. Michael cleared his throat, rubbing the back on his neck awkwardly. Whatever spell that had drawn you both to one another, was broken. The call went unanswered while you both stood in your kitchen, coming to terms with what had almost transpired.

“I should—I’ll leave ya to it.” Michael stammered as he moved to the door. You nodded quickly and proceeded to follow him to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you. “I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink, someday.” He said cautiously. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Are you asking me out on a date, Michael?”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” He smirked.

You looked away from him, flustered. You felt suddenly shy and giddy, a grin bloomed over your face. You tried to school your features but failed. Michael now looked amused at your reaction. “I would love to have a drink with you. Someday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your phone rang again. “Fucking hell,” you groaned. “I should probably—”

Michael hummed, nodding. “Yeah.” He reached for the door. “See you later.”

“See ya.” You retorted; you grabbed the door as he stepped outside. “And thanks for checking up on me.”

“Just being a good neighbor.”

You let out a long breath. “Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight, pet.”

You felt yourself deflate as soon as the door closed. The last thing you wanted at this moment was to deal with your brother. So, you blocked his number. You didn’t want to cut all ties with your brother but you were seriously considering it. The problem was that cutting all ties with your brother, it also meant severing ties with your beloved nephews and nieces. You could not fathom a life without them in it. After all, you loved those kids as though they were your own.

It was a last resort effort to get your point across. Maybe with the threat of you no longer being part of his life, he would change his attitude and apologize. You wished he could just be supportive and respectful of your wishes. You just didn’t how this would happen, your brother was stuck in his own ways.

But so, were you.

You walked past Jimmy’s house that morning, as you did every day. A flock of people were slowly walking inside their home, to pay their respect.

It was Jamie’s funeral.

The hearse was waiting in their driveway. You paused in front of the driveway, catching Birdy’s eyes. She came to you, spreading her arms as though offering you comfort.

“Morning, pet.” She greeted softly as her arms wrapped around you.

“Morning, Birdy.” You dropped your bag, before hugging her tightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Heartbroken.” She pulled away from you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Birdy.” You told her sincerely. You gripped her hands in yours, tightly before bringing them to your lips. You laid a kiss on her knuckles. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.”

“Thanks, pet.” Birdy smiled at you, fondly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer. I wish I could but—”

“’s alright. You need to go to work, I get that.” She nodded. You picked up your bag from the ground. She adjusted the collar of your coat. “I let Michael know you said hi.”

You blushed at the mention of his name, “Yeah—yeah, uh, thanks.” You stammered out before fleeing the scene.

Jamie’s funeral was all the local news was speaking of. It was all anyone could talk about at work.

“With a family like that, how could he have a good life.” Some commented. “It was bound to happen anyway.”

Maybe those people were right, with growing up in a family like this, it was expected to happen. Their offspring would either die in a shooting, or end up in jail. Unfortunately, some of them did not choose this life, they were born into it. And a life was still a life. Jamie might have been born a Kinsella but he didn’t deserve this.

Your thoughts drifted to Michael. You remembered how broken he was the night Jamie died. And you could only imagine how pained he was today. There wasn’t much you could do for him, apart from offering him comfort. Not that you thought it would be enough.

You thought back to what had occurred in your small kitchen the day before. The intensity of his gaze, his calloused fingers on your jaw, how his nose had brushed against yours, as his head shifted so he could kiss you. A kiss, mind you, that never was, thanks to your brother. You let out a deep breath. You didn’t hold out much hope for another moment like this to happen in the near future. In spite of his asking you out on a date. He might realize during the date that you weren’t all that. Or someday might never come. Michael might change his mind before he even thought of a day to take you out.

You didn’t trust that anyone wanted you. And it was really hard to think otherwise, in spite of what people told you. After all, if your own mother did not want you, how would anyone else? Your father remained and raised you, still, the scar your mother left when she walked out, was deeper than anything. Stronger than the love your father had shown you. Because your father loved you, however, he had not been great either. He was unforgiving when it came to you, really. Your mistakes were bigger and far more unforgivable than your siblings’. You always felt he favored your siblings over you, and it didn’t do much to lessen the scar left by your mother’s leaving. It created more opened wounds that did not entirely healed in time.

You had felt unwanted for most of your life. And now, it was hard to believe that Michael Kinsella sincerely wanted to know you better.

You were doubtful.

He had just been released from prison and maybe, he was just looking for an easy lay. Who really knew?

Maybe you should give him a chance. Maybe he was different. Maybe he was looking for something more than just an easy lay.

You could only hope.

Both of your siblings, those you were still talking to, had called you during your lunch time. They knew what had transpired between you and Dave. And you’d let them know what your intentions were. Your sister, the eternal peacekeeper, didn’t want you to go forth with it. As for your brother; Matthew; he fully supported your decision. He even offered to come stay with you for a few days. Which you refused.

For now.

“At least, let me beat his ass.” Matthew groaned on the phone.

“He’s older than you.” You reminded him.

“I can take him. I’m stronger than he is.” Matthew defended.

Which was true, he was military now. He lifted, he also received combat training. You didn’t doubt that he could kick Dave’s teeth in.

“It’s not what I meant.” You snorted. “I mean he’s older, thus, you owe him respect or something.”

“Sure.” He shot back, sarcastically. “You know what I think about that, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t owe him respect just cause he’s older.” He continued. “Respect is earned. And he hasn’t done anything so far, to earn it from me.”

“True.” You puffed out a sigh. “Still, I don’t want you to do that. Just don’t bother. Not for me.”

“You’re right, he’s not worth it.” Matthew said. “Listen, do what you need to, to protect yourself, okay? And if you need me, I’m here. Always.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, feeling your heart swell with love for your brother. “I know. Thanks—asshole.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I gotta go. Be safe—asshole.”

“Yeah, you too.”

You didn’t want him to put his life on hold for you, although, it was nice to know he would. You wouldn’t ask him to, though. You missed your little brother. You really did. You wiped the tears away as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom. You, sometimes, felt alone in Dublin, away from your family. Away from your little brother, specifically. You made that choice for yourself, and he supported you. Still, it wasn’t easy every day. Birdy had made it easy on you. And lately, so had Michael.

You changed out of your work clothes, grabbing your pillow and covers before going back down. You set up your couch for the night. You found it easier to sleep on your couch than in your bed. With your television playing in the background, lulling you to sleep, your nightmares weren’t as vivid as they were a few days before. And you didn’t feel safe enough to sleep in your bedroom yet.

As you went about your evening, cooking your dinner, drinking a bit of coffee, you thought about checking up on Michael. You wanted to know how he was feeling after the funeral. Not great, you supposed. You had knocked on his door earlier, after you had come back from work. But it was left unanswered. You thought he might have still been at Jimmy’s, so, you didn’t insist.

“Hello?” You had answered your phone, sitting in front of your television, enjoying your dinner. You didn’t think much of it, since all the problematic people, those you didn’t want to talk to, had been blocked. “Hello?” You said again when there was no answer.

“Sweetheart?” The person on the other end said. You recognized your mother’s voice.

Your stomach dropped, and you stopped breathing. You blanked; you should have hung up immediately. You should have told her to never call you again. Those were the things you should have told her. But a part of you, the little girl that resided within you, couldn’t bring herself to do so. You were terrified, and thrilled to hear her voice. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hang up on her.

You thought that after all those years of not seeing her, you would have forgotten how she sounded. But her voice was still the same. It had not changed at all, and the sound of her voice had stirred something in you. A longing for her that you believed to be long gone. Because in spite of everything, she was still your mother. And you still loved her. You were terrified to hear her voice, but you were thrilled to hear her after so many years. And you hated that you were.

You should have hung up.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” She said when you didn’t answer.

“I know.” Your voice sounded small, even to your own ears.

“It’s good to hear you, baby.”

Why was she using all those pet names? Why was she acting as though she loved you?

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

You wished your voice would be stronger, louder. You wished you could scream, yell at her. But all you could muster was this small and quiet voice. You sounded as though you were afraid you would scare her away.

“I know, honey.” She retorted, “you don’t have to talk. I just want you to hear me out.”

“Stop calling me honey, or—or sweetheart, or—or—even baby.” You stammered out, tears pressing against your eyes. You hated that you sounded distraught. If you could hear it, she could hear it. and then, she’d know that she still had some sort of power over you.

“I don’t want to listen to you. You had plenty of years to make me listen. And now, it’s too late. I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”

She called your name softly, “please.” She begged. “I know I haven’t been great but—I would love to see you again. I would love—to talk to you. Please, just give me a chance.”

“No.” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat, wiping the tears away. “No more chances. Don’t call me ever again.”

“I’m in Ireland.” She said quickly before you could hang up.

Your heart dropped. “What?” you breathed out shakily.

“I’m in Dublin.” She continued. “And I would love it if we could have a chat.”

It felt as though you had been knocked out. This couldn’t be real. “No,” you whimpered. She couldn’t be in Dublin. She couldn’t be there. This wasn’t real. You must be having a nightmare. It must be.

“—what do you say?”

“I—I—I can’t.” You stammered out, shaking your head. “I don’t want to see you. I can’t.”

You hung up before she could say anything else. She was in Ireland; in Dublin. She had probably made the journey with her husband. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were never supposed to come to Ireland of all places. You stood up on shaky legs, your phone dropped on the floor. This sense of impending doom hit you right in the chest. Your lungs felt as though they weren’t getting enough air.

Without truly thinking about it, you started towards your door. Anything, he said. Anything at all. All you needed to do was to knock on his door and he’d be there. However, the hue of blue and red flashing through your door, had you frozen at the door. Had something happened again? Who was it this time? Michael?

You pulled your door open. You had barely stepped outside that a guard urged you back inside your home. As they pushed you back inside, you caught a glimpse of Michael. He was alive and well. He was being taken away by the guards, handcuffed.

Michael Kinsella was being arrested.

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#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella angst

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peachymilkandcream · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I have a scenario in mind!

What if Evelyn accidentally breaks one of Levi's favourite teacups and gets really scared. She decides to hide it from him for sometime and instead seduces him and has sex with him to put him in a good mood. After the deed is done, she waits for sometime before confessing her mistake to him. What would he do? Punish her or spare her?

Levi x Evelyn -> Just Pretend

(A/N: Hello to you too Anon! Giving me devious little ideas with these two. Thanks for the request ^^)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

==========================================

Evelyn froze for a good five minutes after the initial crash. She was stuck in a state of disbelief, as if she stared at the shattered pieces long enough they would just disappear. Levi loved this cup, it was white on the outside with a singular gold band, but the inside was black with with a gold rose and vine pattern on it. Now that pattern mocked her as it stared into frightened eyes. Evelyn cursed her clumsiness, all she could do to fill her mind-numbingly dull days was read. Levi always would buy whichever ones she wanted, reasoning that if she had new, constructive things to do she'd spend less time escaping. It had come back to bite her in the ass, not looking where she was going and brushing it off the clean dish rack.

As she heard footsteps on the stair adrenaline kicked in. It wasn't Levi, he wouldn't be home for another hour if Erwin or Petra didn't keep him. Normally the thought of Petra flashing her tits at Levi just to get him to look her way had her rolling her eyes. She loathed Levi but expected loyalty nonetheless from both sides. Now she hoped Petra did annoy him enough to slow him down, buy her some more time. On the stair however was probably a maid, Evelyn swore they enjoyed her suffering and eagerly told Levi all of her faults, listening in when she got beaten or fucked senseless. The heartless bitches.

"Mrs. Ackerman? Is everything okay? I heard a crash."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, the snitch was probably hurrying to catch her in the act. "I'm fine. Just go back to what you were doing." Evelyn raced to grab the broom and dustpan, furiously sweeping.

However before she was done the maid in question, a girl her own age, enters the kitchen. Once she takes in the scene her eyes widen, the same maid who always was quick to tell on Evelyn. Their eyes meet and the girl opens her mouth to scream, but before she does Evelyn grabs her and pins her against the wall, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Listen to me you insufferable bitch. You think I don't know the shit you pull to gain Levi's favour? You enjoy knowing he beats the hell out of me after you open your fat fucking mouth. Anything to get him to notice you you fucking slut. You'd love to see him take it too far and kill me or throw me out wouldn't you?" Her grip tightens. "Wouldn't you!?"

The maid is sobbing and terrified, trying to fight her. She'd never seen her mistress have such a hysterical look in her eye, clearly Mrs. Ackerman was desperate not to face her husbands wrath, even if she was the one who told him of his wife's wrongdoings.

"You forget, I'm the mistress of this house, I may hate it with everything in my being but damn it I'm an Ackerman! You will respect me!" Evelyn pulls the girl back, turning her to face the wall and slamming her forehead into it again and again. Since she was in the Scouts before her marriage she had more strength than the maid. Blood stained the wall and eventually the other woman went still.

She pulled the body back to look into the lifeless eyes of one of the women who caused her more hell than she needed in her marriage. Part of her wanted to be sick, proclaiming oneself as an Ackerman and then demanding respect before brutally beating or murdering a person was Levi's trademark. Maybe he was getting to her more than she thought.

================================================

Levi came home exactly on time as he always did, Evelyn had burned her bloodstained dress and cleaned up the cup. The body of the unfortunate servant was temporarily moved until Levi could dispose of it better. The fact that his wife just murdered someone wouldn't phase him, if anything he'd enjoy that she was becoming a callous monster like him.

She met him at the door, a fresh face of makeup as always, he always wanted her looking her best for him. "Welcome home Levi." Her lips found his gingerly, it was robotic, programmed into her.

He was much more warm, bringing her in a brief embrace and kissing her with more passion. "Evelyn."

She hesitates, considering if her plan will even work, or if she's just degrading herself for no reason. She swallows her fears and pride before pulling Levi's head towards hers and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

He's surprised at first, especially when her tongue slides into his mouth, tangling with his. A grunt escapes him as he pulls her closer to him, making sure she feels how hard he is, grinding slightly until she gasping and moaning into his mouth. This moment is too good to be true, she's never wanted him like this. Maybe finally she's come to her senses and will comply with him.

"Upstairs." She breathes, her voice breathless and airy.

He doesn't hesitate and lifts her in his arms, bringing her up the stairs and almost throwing her on the bed. It didn't take much from her to get into his pants, the mere thought that she wanted it makes him hard as a rock and needy.

Before he can pounce on her she holds her hand up in a 'Wait'. At first he gets annoyed, prepared to ignore her request until she stands and strips slowly, teasing him. He's so hard it's painful, it takes everything in him from pinning her down and taking her. All the dirty thoughts racing in his mind pause when she speaks.

"Levi..?"

"What is it?"

She's acting, but acting shy makes him squirm as she chews her bottom lip as if embarrassed. "Would you...take me from behind again...? It felt so much better...please...?"

Truly she was a goddess. It was so fake and all staged to fuel his ego, he knew. But it didn't change that all he wanted was to be balls deep in her soaking cunt. With a simple nod she assumes position on the bed, bent with her legs spread, glancing back at him innocently.

He takes his time undoing his belt and removing his clothes, he wants to give her a show too. He smirks when he sees the arousal making her pussy glisten, she couldn't fake that if she tried. He teases her entrance with the tip, taking note of how she wiggles against it. Such a good girl for him, just wanting to please her husband.

When he slides all the way in she moans loudly, pushing her hips back against him before he could even start moving, desperate for some kind of friction. He complies and meets her thrusts, making the bed creak and shake as they use each other for pleasure. No matter how much he's abused her pussy it's still tight when he's inside, reaffirming in his mind she was perfectly made for him and him alone.

He suddenly stops moving, making her look at him in confusion. "Use my dick like the whore you are."

She's flushed but he can see her face go a shade redder as she sheepishly bumps her hips against him again. Eventually finding a rhythm until she was drooling from the pressure, her tongue out and her eyes rolled back. He could feel her tightening around him, she was close.

"You want to cum do you?"

"Please Levi?"

He grabs her hips to stop her from moving, taking half a second pause before bringing her forcefully up and down his cock. She's whimpering and practically crying from too much stimulation until she's spasming and clenching around his dick with all her strength.

As she comes down he slams into her again, prolonging the orgasm and making sure his cum shooting inside of her is associated with the pleasure of a climax. All part of his conditioning to make her into what he wants her to be.

===============================================

As they lay in bed together the next morning they just study each other's features. She allowed him to hold her tenderly like a lover, like a husband. Panic filled her to the point of nausea but she had to tell him, confessing would be better than him figuring it out.

"Levi...?"

"Mm? What's wrong?"

Tears fall down her cheeks, this time it's not acting, she's genuinely terrified. "I'm so sorry- It was an accident- I knocked your cup- and it broke- I didn't mean to I promise. I'm sorry Levi please forgive me-"

Levi is silent for a long time, a really long time. Each second that passes without an answer more concerning to her than the last. She just wants him to get it over with, to say something. But if she spoke out now then he'd punish her for interrupting his thoughts.

"So this is why you were so eager with me last night." It was simply a statement.

She nods sheepishly, suddenly ashamed.

Another long stretch of silence before he finally speaks.

"I'll overlook what you've done this time."

"You will..?"

"You've learned your lesson. You understand how to earn my forgiveness. I can afford to forgive this transgression."

"I killed the the maid-" She blurts.

He simply shrugs. "I can deal with that later. They're all replaceable."

She couldn't understand how he was so calm. It was eerie. "You'd tell me if you were upset?"

He nods, stretching and picking up one of his novels. "You'd know if I was."

She continues to stare at him, taken aback by his relaxed nature.

When he catches her eyes he smirks slightly. "Unless you want me to punish you."

"N-No I'm fine-"

He goes back to reading but she can't miss that devious look on his face.

#attack on titan #break me slowly #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x oc #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader #oneshot requests

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nessinborderland · 3 years ago

Text

Live Undead (02)

Pairing: Yoon Gwinam x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Dark fic

Word Count: 5.7 k

Summary: You knew he was bad, and you knew it was bad to tell him no. Still, you did. And you will come to regret it.

Warnings⚠️ Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Zombie Apocalypse, Mild Gore, Bullying, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, monster fucking?, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Sexual Harassment, Oral Sex, Blood, Toxic Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Light breeding kink

Notes: Here it is, part 2! Hope you enjoy <3 There's definitely gonna be a part 3.

Part 1 | Masterlist

Gwinam tried to understand. He really did. Why didn’t you want him? Why didn’t you look up to him with eyes full of love and gratitude instead of the dead empty stare that made him feel like he had done something wrong?

He knew he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he was above everyone else. Not when even the Grim Reaper brought him back to life and the monsters didn’t touch him. For the first time ever, Yoon Gwinam had full control over his life; and death. He was now at the top of the food chain, every living thing beneath him just there for him to use as he saw fit.

That’s why your attitude confused him so much. Didn’t you understand how lucky you were? How you were superior to every other human just by being with him? He hated how distant you seemed to be, despite him making an effort to be as close to you as possible. He loved you, he took care of you. He saved your life every day, and every day he was met with the same dead stare and boring submission, so different from the girl you were before.

He found himself wanting to see you smile and laugh like when you were kids. He wanted you to talk back at him, to slap his arm, to look at him with eyes full of defiance that only made him want to tease you further.

But instead, all he got was… nothing.

“You like that?” he whispered in your ear as he moved in and out of you in slow thrusts, thumb playing with your clit in ways that made you tighten your legs around him. “I make you feel good, don’t I?”

You moaned in response, a sound that always made his heart beat faster, and a look at your face told him all he needed to know. You loved it when he fucked you like this, deep and slow as he took his time touching you and kissing you in ways that made your eyes roll back and your pussy clench around him. He knew you did.

Your eyes were shut closed and your mouth was opened in a moan, the flickering candle flames illuminating the room covering your face and body in dancing shadows. Your hardened nipples pressed against his chest as he moved on top of you, warm and soft skin contrasting with his colder one. Just feeling you pressed so close against him made him want to fuck you harder, feel you even closer.

Fuck, you were beautiful.

He buried his nose in your hair, taking a long inhale at your mouth-watering scent. He could swear you smelled even better now than you did before he marked you, your natural scent mixing with his own in a cocktail that left him drunker than any drink could. It was intoxicating, and he quickly realized that he would never get tired of it.

He would never get tired of fucking you, either.

Sometimes he fucked you just to hear you cry out in ecstasy, just to see your expressions change because of him. He was the one that made you come every night, he was the one that left you spasming in pleasure. There was something overwhelmingly primal in seeing you panting and shaking with his cum leaking out of you, the only thought in his head being the need to fill you up again and mark you more. Nothing made him prouder of himself than seeing his teeth mark on you and smelling his scent on your skin.

Gwinam knew that he had to be careful not to turn you into something like him, or worse; a brainless zombie. One would turn you into something that could fight him back, and the other would just ignore him. He would rather kill you himself than have you turn into either of those things.

You belonged to him and no one else, and that was a fact.

You gasped and twitched in his arms as he felt you come around him for the second time that day. It didn’t take him long to join you, burying himself inside you as deep as he could before filling you up like he did every time. Then he laid still, still in you as you regained your breath and he enjoyed how warm your body was.

Gwinam had gotten to know your body pretty well in the past two months.

That first time with you in that bathroom had been something out of his wildest dreams, an action driven by lust and blood. That mouth-watering scent that led him to you made him want to fuck you as much as he wanted to eat you, and revenge on Cheongsan had lost priority when he realized that you were what he wanted the most. He had felt like an animal, the need to take you so strong he hadn’t been able to think straight.

Taking you despite your initial rejection had made him fully realize who he was; a god. He was in charge, and there was nothing you – or anyone else – could do to stop him from getting what he wanted. He made sure to remind you of that, made sure that you knew exactly what your place in this new world was.

Gwinam finally owned what he had only been able to dream about until that moment. The sleepless nights where he touched himself thinking of you, the glances and the teasing and the bullying that reflected how much he wanted you – all of that mixed with all your hurtful words of rejection and looks of disdain had turned him into a beast that only wanted one thing. You.

And then it was over, and you were finally his.

Even then, he couldn’t stop.

He took you again and again and again, until the fog in his mind dissipated, and all he could hear were your begging cries for him to stop.

And he stopped.

Of course he did, he wasn’t that big of a monster. He knew that what he had done was wrong, but how wrong could it be when he was a god and you were the one he chose as his lover? How wrong could it be when he felt your legs shake from pleasure and your tight pussy clench around him like you wanted to milk him dry? It wasn’t wrong; you just took your time understanding you wanted him too.

Still, he stopped. The only thought in his head wasn’t to fuck you anymore but to protect you. To care for you.

Funny word, when he thought about it. Protect.

He had never cared to protect anyone in his life but himself. At home, he was the one in need of protection, and on the streets, he made sure that no one even had the courage to make him feel threatened. But there he was, killing zombies for you, searching for food for you, getting you in a safe place for you.

Loving you.

At least he was pretty sure it was love. The way he wanted you, how restless he felt when you weren’t close, how happy he was just from touching you. That had to be love. Not that he knew exactly what love looked like; he never had much of that growing up. But he knew that he had something like that with you, even if you didn’t quite understood it yet.

“You liked it?” he asked in a low tone after pulling out and lying beside you, face buried in the crook of your neck and fingers drawing spirals on your stomach.

He didn’t like to look at you after; he knew what he was going to see. You and that empty stare, focused on the ceiling. It made him feel like a monster – unloved and underappreciated – a sensation in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t enjoy one bit making him want to fix it, whatever it was. At least you didn’t cry right after anymore, not that it made him feel much better; he could still hear you sniffling when you thought he was asleep.

“Uhum” came your emotionless answer, followed by a deep sigh as you turned your back to him and covered yourself with a blanket.

He tried not to get mad over it; he quickly found out that starting a fight with you would only drive you further apart and end up with you crying and him seeing red. He wanted the opposite of that.

“Want me to get you something?”

A shake of the head; always the same damn answer. What the hell was he doing wrong?

He shrugged to himself – trying to muffle the anger simmering in his chest – before standing up from the mattress and stretching his arms over his head, enjoying the way his joints popped and how good he felt despite the countless scars and injuries visible on his pale skin. Bite marks, deep scars, burns, his eye; it was all marked in his flesh, and he was proud of it.

They were proof that he was more and better than most.

After the bombs that destroyed several parts of the city, it had been hard to find you a safe place to hide. He had been lucky enough to kill Cheongsan and escape the school before the bomb hit, but he was not expecting how hard it had been for both of you to get a place where neither humans nor zombies would bother you.

He had tried to get you home, but your area had been affected by the bombs too. So now, here you were, on the second floor of a tiny building that he had cleaned free of zombies from top to bottom. Under it, there was a small grocery store that had barely been ransacked, which proved very handy when it came to food and other necessities.

The place wasn’t big – with only a wide room serving as both the bedroom and living room, a kitchenette in a corner, and another door that led to the bathroom – but he had done his best to make it a home for you. Water was scarce despite the rainwater that you used to shower and the bottled water he brought back, but there was no electricity or gas.

Still, he found a way to make things work.

Gwinam made his way to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as he took a quick shower. He could barely feel the cold water on his skin despite it being winter, and he found himself kind of missing feeling hot. That’s why he loved to be pressed against you, the way your body warmed his own, filling him with a type of comfort that he couldn’t exactly experience anymore.

A sound from the room made him freeze, and he focused on hearing as he searched for some kind of threat, sniffing for something or someone that wasn’t you or him. He turned off the water as his shoulders relaxed – no sign of an intruder close by – and grabbed a towel before stepping out of the bathroom.

The window that led to the small terrace was open, and he wasn’t surprised to see you outside, naked body enlightened by the weak light of the rainy day. You didn’t seem to care about the rain, and neither did he as he followed you outside, stopping before getting too close. Even in the low light he could see the dark marks on your skin, made by his hands. He was aware it hurt you, but even then he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.

How could he when you looked hotter by the day? He was like a moth attracted to a flame.

Gwinam watched as you took trembling steps forward – apparently unaware of his presence – wondering for a moment about what was going on in your head. It wasn’t the first time that he wished he could hear your thoughts; he just wanted to learn something that would help him understand you.

But right now he didn’t need to be in your head to know what you were thinking.

“You won’t die if you fall from there,” he said.

He knew how falling from a high place felt, but you – unlike him – wouldn’t heal or come back to life.

His voice tone was low and somber, but he knew you had heard him when you hesitated, stopping at the wall that limited the terrace. You didn’t turn to him, however, but he still heard you when you whispered:

“I know… but would it be that bad if I still wanted to try?”

He sighed and brushed his wet hair back as he tried to control his emotions, the sound of cracking knuckles making you look at him over your shoulder. You flinched when he grabbed you by the wrists, forcefully turning you to him before crashing his lips on yours. He ignored your whimpers of pain as his grip on you tightened, pressing your body against his as he consumed your mouth in an almost desperate way.

“You really wanna die that much?” he said against your lips, not really caring about the fear he saw in your eyes. He wanted you to be afraid. “You hate me so fucking much that you would rather die? Cause the only way that’s happening is if I kill you myself.”

“So do it!” you shouted, surprising him with a push that made him stumble back. He could hear the faint sound of alerted zombies in the distance, but he didn’t have it in himself to care about it at the moment. “Fucking do it instead of pretending you love me! You think you’re some kind of god now, but you’re still the stupid teenage boy from before, always expecting me to like you back. I fucking hate you, don’t you get that?!”

The tears that fell down your face could be mistaken for rain, but the fire in your eyes could never be mistaken by anything else. He knew that fire all too well.

He had wished for it.

“Ungrateful bitch,” he scoffed, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You don’t like the way I treat you? Am I so bad you’d rather get eaten by zombies? Then fucking do it, go for it,” he said with a mocking nod, “but don’t come screaming for my help when they tear you apart limb from limb.”

He turned his back to you and rushed inside, such strong anger running through his veins that he felt lightheaded and in dire need of blood. He needed whatever would help take his mind out of you before he did or said something he would regret, and a good fight followed by death usually did that for him lately.

He got dressed while completely ignoring your presence and left the building without another word, banging the door close behind him.

Gwinam walked down the street with his hands in his pockets, not minding the rain soaking his clothes as the gray day slowly turned darker. Zombies roamed the streets without paying him any mind, and he almost wished they would react to him so he could fight back.

He knew other hambies usually would if he saw any of them.

He could smell them on occasion, but they usually kept to themselves in other parts of the city, not really invading what he considered to be his territory. In his opinion, the borders were pretty clear with the bodies of the hambies he had managed to kill.

Still, he didn’t stray far from the building, his attention always focused on something that would tell him that you were in danger.

Sometimes Gwinam dreamed he had done things differently, way before all this zombie mess he was part of. If only he hadn’t let your friendship sour, if only he hadn’t bullied you around like he did others… maybe then you would’ve liked him back, and none of this would be happening.

Well, too late to be crying over spilled milk, anyway; you were his whether you liked it or not.

He hadn’t been walking around for long when he noticed he was being watched. A sniff let him know it wasn’t a human – but another being like himself – so he stopped and focused his gaze on the pitch-black alley where his fellow monster was hiding.

“What do you want?” he asked.

He wanted the thing to fight him, but no need for that if it was just another confused weakling walking around in search of food. Your scent usually attracted more trouble than he needed, but it was usually easy for him to fight them off.

“Y-You smell… human,” a trembling male voice hesitantly talked back from the dark. “But you’re not one. I-I can smell that too.”

“So what?” Gwinam shrugged, rolling his eyes. “You hungry?”

“Yes! D-Do you have food?”

The thing that came into the light was skinny and deformed, and Gwinam recognized its injuries as severe burns. Its eyes were bloodshot red and he could see drool sliding down its chin.

It disgusted Gwinam as much as it made him feel pity for the sick thing.

“No humans here,” he shook his head, “now fuck off before I–.”

A piercing scream sounded from somewhere in the dark, and Gwinam froze as his heart skipped a beat.

“Fuck.”

The other hambie ran by him so fast it looked like a blur. Gwinam wasted no time, chasing it as fast as he could while focusing all his senses on getting to you.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

He saw you before you saw him, too busy balancing yourself on top of a wall as zombies reached for your ankles, bloody open mouths hungry for you.

However, his concern wasn’t the brainless monsters, but the rabid thing that threw itself at you, ready to eat you alive in its desperation.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion before his eyes.

Your eyes widened as you finally caught sight of him, relief replacing despair, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t care about what happened to himself as long as he saved you.

Gwinam was stronger, faster, and healthier. He thanked whatever higher being existed above him for that.

The way he hit the monster punched the air out of his lungs, reminding him of the time he had hit a wall while playing around as a kid. The thing growled and bit hard on his arm, but even then Gwinam held strong, ignoring the pain of having his flesh torn off.

He threw it on the ground as hard as he could, adding his weight on top of it before grabbing what was once a man by its remaining hair and smashing the head on the pavement over and over.

“You trying to take what’s mine, motherfucker!?” His screams of rage echoed in the ghost city, but he couldn’t hear himself over the buzz in his ears. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

It was all brain matter and pieces of flesh by the time he was finished, his hands caked with blood and hair.

Then he turned to the zombies, the feeling of warm blood on his skin making him feel alive. —

“Gwinam!”

His name being shouted so close to his sensitive ears snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He stumbled back as he muffled the sound with his palms, looking around in confusion before focusing on you.

You were covered in blood spatters from head to toe, eyes glossy and wide in fear as you hugged your trembling body. At first, he thought with horror that the blood was yours, but he quickly realized that the scent of your blood couldn’t compare to the rottenness that filled his nostrils.

“What–” he halted midway from reaching you when you flinched, clearly afraid of him.

He remembered now. A look around him confirmed it.

The bodies of several torn zombies were scattered around like ribbons, the pieces and blood, and organs almost making them unrecognizable. His hands and clothes were red and torn in several places – his shirt barely hanging on his body – bite marks and scratches visible on his already scarred skin.

But you looked fine, and that immediately made him relax, the instinct to fight fading as he didn’t detect any more threats. Then he focused his hard stare on you, feeling a tiny zing of satisfaction at seeing you cower before him, your eyes avoiding his.

You really should be afraid.

“What the hell are you doing outside?”

The relief he felt seeing that he had succeeded at saving you quickly gave place to irritation; this would’ve never happened if you had stayed home. It wasn’t the first time you had tried to run from him – almost killing him one time – but he always brought you back before you could take more than a few steps out the door.

He had been way too careless this time. It wouldn’t happen again.

“Was this what you fucking wanted?” he asked in a low tone, gesticulating to the gory scene surrounding both of you. “Should I just watch, the next time you’re about to get your face chewed off? Cause I will, if that’s what you want.” He tilted his head to the side when you whimpered and tucked your chin against your chest in a clear sign of submission. It almost made him laugh. “What, zombie got your tongue?”

You shook your head, but still didn’t look up at him. Whatever you said next was unintelligible even to his ears.

“What was that?”

“T-Take me home, please,” you repeated, now in a loud whisper, “I won’t do it again, I-I promise…”

That was all he needed to hear.

He ignored your yelp of surprise and subsequent whimper of fear as he picked you up, carrying you over his shoulder like he had done several times before. You weighed nothing to him, and the usual futile attempts of escaping his grasp were now nothing more than a weak “No” that he promptly ignored.

He only put you down when you reached the apartment, throwing you on the bed like you were a sack of potatoes before starting to take off his bloody and ripped clothes.

You watched with wide eyes, your tear and blood stained face actually making him hornier than he had any right to be. It reminded him of his first time with you, how scared and beautiful you had looked with tears streaming down your face and desperation in your eyes.

“Take your clothes off,” he ordered in a tone that left you with no alternative.

He watched you with sharp eyes as you undressed, body trembling, and gaze down as you unbuttoned your dress. Then you were both naked in the room, skin dirty with blood and – in his case – covered in bite marks and open wounds.

You were as aware of his erection as he was, the pink tip of his cock already leaking with precum. He couldn’t help it when you looked at him like that like you were expecting him to ravish you one way or another. He wanted nothing more than to put you on all fours and fuck you like an animal, remind you of who you belong to. Make you come, feel the warmth of your skin against his, cum inside you. Mark you.

But that’s not what he did.

Instead, Gwinam ignored his primal instincts as he pulled you by the wrist in direction of the bathroom, pretending not to see the way you flinched.

He said nothing as he pulled you with him under the shower head before turning on the water. You yelped in surprise as the cold water fell on you in a weak stream, your trembling body against his own only making him harder. You both stayed under the stream despite the temperature – his hands on your shoulders keeping you still – the water falling at your feet tinged pink.

Gwinam took a deep breath, suddenly feeling extremely tired; he didn’t want to believe it, but he had no doubt that this would happen again.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, stepping away from you to grab a bottle of body wash and a loofah before starting to scrub his hands clean. “Feel better about yourself now?”

You didn’t answer as you grabbed your own sponge before imitating him, scrubbing your skin with a little more strength than he found necessary.

“Fine if you don’t wanna talk,” he continued, “but I might not be there to save you next time you try shit like that.”

You still said nothing, and he nodded to himself before throwing you his sponge. It hit your back and fell on the ground, and you looked up at him as he got closer to turn off the shower before turning back around.

“Wash me,” he ordered as he sat on a small plastic bench, back to you. “Clean the mess you made.”

A moment passed before he felt the loofah on his skin, rubbing the blood off of him in circular motions. His tensed muscles eventually relaxed as you washed him, his injuries now nothing more than annoying itches that he tried not to scratch.

“I should make you wash me more often…” he said with a satisfied sigh, more to himself than to you.

Your fingers were currently in his hair – scrubbing it clean with shampoo – and he leaned back against your stomach as you slowly went down to his neck and chest, enjoying the way your soft hands touched his body and carefully cleaned his skin.

“I’m sorry.”

He opened his eyes upon hearing your whispered apology, leaning his head further back to look at your face. Your movements stopped and your eyes widened slightly before you averted your gaze, focusing somewhere on his chest.

“Are you?”

“I am,” you answered, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, “I-I shouldn’t have left. Now you’re hurt because of me…”

He couldn’t control the satisfied smile that pulled at his lips; he knew you would eventually understand. You knew that what you had done was wrong.

“C’mere,” he said as he pulled you to stand in between his legs, hands on your hips keeping you from escaping.

Your chest was right in front of his face – nipples hard from the cold as your whole body trembled – and he didn’t think twice before popping one into his mouth, rolling his tongue against the cold hard bud.

You gasped and your arms went around his head, pulling him closer after a moment of hesitation. He smiled as he kept sucking on your tit, one hand kneading your ass while the other went up to squeeze your other boob, thumb and forefinger playing with your nipple.

He wanted to show you how pleased he was with your apology.

You surprised him by suddenly pushing his head away before slamming your lips on his, climbing into his lap before he had time to react.

Gwinam froze for a split of a second, surprised by your initiative; this never happened. You had never initiated anything, barely returning his kisses and touching him back as little as possible.

This was new, but he couldn’t complain when what he wanted to happen happened.

He quickly returned the kiss, moaning into your mouth as he felt your hot cunt sliding and grinding against his erection, making him thrust his hips forward in the crazy need to get inside you.

Fuck did he want you.

“Please,” you said in between kisses, still teasing him as you rubbed yourself against his hard-on, “say you won’t leave me alone.”

“Never,” he promised, and he meant it.

The way your body touched his drove him mad; you were so warm, so soft, so fucking delicious. Your sweet scent alone was enough to almost make him come on the spot.

He hissed when your hand went down his abs to hold his cock, fingers hesitantly closing around his shaft before you started jerking him off. There’s another thing that you had never done, and the feeling of your soft fingers touching him like that made him lean back so much he almost fell off the seat.

“Shit, I’ll fuck you so hard after this…” he moaned, pulling your face closer for another kiss that you enthusiastically retributed.

Then you surprised him again.

You broke the kiss and looked down before lining his dick with your entrance, shifting your hips and impaling yourself on his cock in one swift move. Your joined moans echoed in that bathroom, soon mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin as he held you and moved you up and down his shaft. You rode him with abandon, moaning as loud as he had ever heard you while gripping his shoulders hard enough to mark him.

This had to be the hottest sex he ever had in his life.

His lips moved down to your jaw and neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on your skin as your hands pulled at his wet hair, only making him hornier as your velvety walls clenched around him at each thrust.

“M-More…” you mumbled, followed by a shout of pleasure as he pulled out of you completely before slamming you back down, filling you up to the brim.

One of his hands went down to play with your clit, only enlightening the pleasurable sensations as you rolled your hips in sync with his.

This felt better than any other time he had sex with you, and he wondered if it was because you were actually taking the initiative this time. The way you moaned and touched him back, the will to please in your eyes… all of that just made this fuck hotter than all the others.

You came soon after, cunt pulsing around him at the same time you threw your head back in a loud moan. Then it was like your body turned into jelly, and he used you to completion as you laid your head on his shoulder, your soft whines in his ear only making him fasten his thrusts.

It didn’t take him long to follow you, gripping your hips in place as he jerked and filled you up with his cum, your tight pussy milking him dry.

Your heart beat against his chest like a galloping horse, your panting breaths against his shoulder reminding him that you were very much alive. Pure human and alive because of him.

It took him a moment to realize you were crying, soft sobs making your shoulders shake as you hid your face from him. He could still feel the warm tears in his skin and thinking that he had ruined a good thing made a bad feeling turn in his stomach.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself before asking you, “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head no, but your louder sobs did nothing to help him believe it. He hesitantly held you as you cried, uncomfortable with your sudden crying despite the amazing sex you just had. He was still inside you, for fucks sake, and he wondered for a moment if he should just leave or try to comfort you further.

He did neither, choosing to stand up with you still in his arms before getting out of the bathroom, not caring about the water dripping on the floor or the fact that neither of you were sufficiently clean.

Gwinam gently laid you on the bed, both of you shuddering as he pulled out of you. Still, your crying didn’t stop, and he stared at you for a moment as you hid your face in your hands, irritation starting to slowly creep upon him.

He didn’t understand why. Why couldn’t you just enjoy the good things he gave you? Why were you being so emotional for no damn reason? You were alive and being taken care of so why was that not enough?

He knew you were full of his cum and sore by the constant sex, but he didn’t care about that as long as he stopped you from crying.

So he did the only thing he thought would make you stop.

You arched your back as a trembling moan left your lips, instinctively bucking your hips as Gwinam sucked on your already sensitive clit before shoving two fingers inside your creamy pussy.

“G-Gwi–”

Your words died in your throat as he started scissoring and sucking and licking, finger fucking you until your legs trembled and your hands gripped his hair so tightly he was afraid you were actually going to pull it off his scalp.

He smiled against your dripping core as you pushed his face further against it, and a moan vibrating against your most sensitive spot made you squeeze your thighs around his head. Still, that didn’t stop him from eating you out until you were a shaking and moaning mess, the sobbing now erupting from your lips being from the overstimulation of consequent orgasms and not whatever negative emotion you were feeling.

He didn’t mind the taste of both his cum and your juices on his tongue, and neither did you as he went up your body to kiss you breathless, lips moving with yours in such a passionate way he felt like he was dreaming.

You were asleep soon after, rolled up against his side with his arm over your warm body, pulling you closer in the cold night.

Gwinam actually felt happy for the first time in a long time. He was an immortal god, the girl he liked was his – human and alive – and finally liked him back, and no one was there to make his life hell again.

You murmured something in your sleep that he couldn’t understand before clinging even more to him, lips brushing against his peck as you hugged him closer.

Gwinam felt butterflies in his stomach, feeling suddenly giddy; so this was what it felt like to be loved back?

He sure hoped it was.

---

Part 3 ->

#all of us are dead #yoon gwinam x reader #yoon gwi nam #yoon gwinam #gwi nam x reader #gwinam x reader #all of us are dead fanfiction

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scandinavianfairytale · 3 years ago

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Control

Pairing: Mob boss Steve Rogers x (Innocent!)Reader

Warnings: 18+ only; referenced kidnapping, can be considered as Stockholm Syndrome situation (it’s tiptoing on that edge, but the reader is kinda aware of what’s going on), cursing, horniness on both parties, smut (namely guided masturbation, fingering & implied boner)

A/N: This is a sequel to Language, but you don't have to read it to understand what's happening 😊

“It’s easy, Doll.” Steve said as he leaned back in his chair, with a smirk on his face. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you want this, all you gotta do is take it.”

You watched him and after a few seconds of staring and thinking, you took a cautious step towards him and then a second and suddenly you were standing in between his thighs. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, how fast it was. Your fingertips were pulsing, itching to touch him.

You extended your hand to run it over his cheek, before slowly bending down, stopping an inch from his lips.

Were you really going to do this?

You closed the small gap between you and the mobster, your captive. But...it somehow felt right. Your lips on his. Steve slowly rose to his feet, taking over the soft kiss, plunging his tongue in your mouth. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him, feeling his body as you pressed into him. It felt like an invisible barrier was breached in your mind and you just let go, getting lost in this forbidden, twisted thing.

It had never felt better. You hummed into the kiss.

You were trembling as Steve slowly took off your shirt. Every kiss, every touch was overwhelming, consuming your whole body, your heart was beating so fast and loud you were afraid the whole world would hear it, even though you were so far from anyone. Your chest was pushing out all available air in your lungs and the fire in the pit of your stomach was getting more noticeable with every exhale. You couldn't believe you were just giving yourself up to him, but you couldn't resist him any longer, couldn't resist being so close to him yet still too far away. It was driving you insane.

Steve loved the responses he got from you, each time he touched any part of your exposed skin, it tensed under his touch and you produced so many lovely noises - a sigh here, a flat out whine there, but what made him snap his eyes open and break the kiss was the shudder he received as his hand slid across your tummy.

"Well..." He smirked as he returned his eyes to yours. Your eyebrows knitted together as he repeated the motion.

"Tell me, Doll...have you ever been touched?" Steve's head tilted to the side as he observed you. You just knew there was no way you'd be able to form a full sentence if you spoke. So you carefully shook your head and immediately froze when a Cheshire cat like grin spread through his face. He turned you around and you faced yourself in the mirror. He nestled his chin in the crook of your neck and unbuttoned your jeans, opening them so that your panties were visible. He stood right behind you and grabbed your hands softly.

"Now, pretty girl, just follow my lead. I'll show you everything you need or want to know." Slowly, he led your hands down your tummy, your fingertips softly dancing over your skin, making goosebumps appear all over your body and shivers envelop your skin. When you reached the hem of your panties, your breath hitched in your throat and Steve hummed before opening them with one finger and dipping your hand down the warmest part of you.

"For someone with such a foul mouth, you sure are innocent." He smirked before making you cup yourself. Your other hand was guided in the same direction but stopped as it found your clit. His fingers pressed onto the little bump, making you release a whimper and close your eyes.

"How does it feel? Describe it." Steve asked in your ear and met your eyes in the mirror.

"S-Steve..." You stuttered as he applied circular motions on your nub, the other hand rubbed at your entrance and your hips gained a mind of their own, rocking at your wandering hands.

"Ah ah ah Doll, use your words." He whispered, watching your hooded eyes, laboured breath and tense body.

"I-It feels so good..." You finally confessed and as a reward he pushed one of his long fingers into you. "Fuck!" You yelled, your eyes clamping shut.

"Language, Doll. Language." Steve chuckled as he started moving his finger in and out of your tight entrance, your walls squeezing his digit hard.

"Sweet Jesus, you are tight." He commented and pulled both your hands out of your panties, making you whine at the loss of contact. "Put your arms around me." You didn't object, just did what he told you before he once again put his hands on your sex, where they were before. His ministrations were rougher, faster and it brought you so much pleasure. The sounds that were escaping from your pussy were unlike anything you have heard yourself produce before. The feeling of skin inside you was foreign but your body welcomed it as if it was a lost friend.

"Come on, I know you're close. Just let go." Steve smirked and kissed your neck, shoving another finger in you, making you explode.

"Shit. Steve. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" You screamed and moaned as you finally released control. He watched you in the mirror as your face shifted through a mirage of expressions, loving every single one of them. You were trying to calm your breathing, panting through your parted lips, your muscles felt like jelly, yet somehow you were still standing. You quickly realized that it was Steve that was holding your body up, as you slumped into him. He was slowly kissing up your neck until he planted a kiss on your cheek.

"You did well, Doll. You have no idea what you do to me." He whispered into your ear before he slowly let go of you, depositing you onto the bed and licking his fingers. Bodily, you had more than an idea of what you did to him, sleeping and waking up to him for so many days, but the restraint and kindness he showed you in these two months that you'd been in this cabin...you were starting to believe that he wasn't as awful as you initially thought.

Thank you for reading! 🙏💙

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator 🙏😊

Sooooo...this has been in my drafts for a LONG time but I was / still am a bit afraid of posting it, because I'm not really comfortable with admiting that I like literally erotica, let alone that I write it. But I have been going to therapy for some time now and we are slowly working through my issues (there are a lot of them, who knew 😅) and one of the things I promised myself was that I will be more honest with myself and that I will take more risks that are not related to my safety (you do not want to know in how many situations I have put myself in where everyone that knows / loves me were like: ARE YOU INSANE?!?!?!?!), so here it is 🎉😅

#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers imagine #mob boss steve rogers x reader #mob au #mob marvel #control #fanfic #short story #innocent reader #soft dark steve rogers

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after-witch · 4 years ago

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Title: Quality Time [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader] [It’s My Party Part 3]

Synopsis: You’re fiddling with the frayed edge of a blanket, made even flimsier by the incessant picking of your nails, when the thoughts simply bubble past your lips, forcing their way into existance. “I miss it.”

Word Count: 1036

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, eating disorder, stockholm syndrome

You’re fiddling with the frayed edge of a blanket, made even flimsier by the incessant picking of your nails, when the thoughts simply bubble past your lips, forcing their way into existence.

“I miss it.”

Tomura doesn’t look up from his Switch, his face eerily illuminated by a myriad of bright colors in the dimness of the room.

“Miss what?”

It’s a strange sight. Before all this, the thought of seeing a violent villain crouching over a video game screen, snapping pictures of Pokemon and grumbling when he can’t get the perfect shot, would have surely broken your brain. Yet it’s all you’ve seen for the past 2 days, as he binge-plays the newest release.

On one hand, his obsession with the game meant he was easing off on you--at least for the time being. For a little while, no forceful demands to sit in his lap, no awkward moments where he stares at you (literally, staring, eyes wide open) until you fall into a fitful sleep. Too busy with his game, too busy showing off his favorite shots--including one of a Pokemon’s round little butt. Charming.

Yet you couldn’t deny that the lack of his overbearing presence freed up your mind for other things. Other thoughts. Like the idea that you were getting a bit too full lately, weren’t you? A bit too complacent? With your captor, with yourself.

You were being so “good” for him, and didn’t that mean you liked all this obsessive attention? You ate with him and let him hold you and made awkward small talk and attempts at playful jabs while you played video games. And you haven’t thrown up in months--haven’t even fought him about throwing up in months. You sometimes argued about taking more bites when he insisted you eat everything up, but that was hardly the same.

Normally, your captor hovered over you while you ate; waiting for you to finish your last bites (or argue, if you insisted on not eating much) before keeping you put until he decided you weren’t going to rush to the bathroom (or garbage, or stray plastic bag) and vomit. You haven’t done it in a while.

Because he hasn’t let you, but also because the urge had been abating; maybe out of some primal survival instinct, some base way for your body to shout out “we’re in danger! Keep all your fuel!” Or maybe because your current stressors have pushed aside the thoughts that led you to endless takeout boxes and clogged plumbing. Or maybe because having someone care about you enough to kidnap you and make you stop hurting yourself was sickly thrilling.

And yet… and yet.

He didn’t sit with you after dinner last night. He didn’t even say anything when you barely touched your rice, picking at the few vegetables in the bowl and leaving most of the meat behind. And now this morning, he’s been too busy with the game to notice that you haven’t eaten anything on your breakfast tray.

“Well?” His voice is reedier, bordering on annoyed. You think he’s on a new level right now. He gets testier when you interrupt new gameplay.

You look down at the tray on your plate and focus on the way the steam from the microwaved eggs has collected on the underside of the plastic wrap you haven’t removed, only for water to dribble down in little streams. The apple he found looks bit old, but edible enough if you ate around the mealy part; it sits, dark and round, and as whole as it was when he gave it to you.

You stare at the steam, at the lukewarm eggs still wrapped in plastic, at the redness of the apple. You scrape your knuckles against the underside of the tray, feeling the ghost of scabs on them.

“I miss throwing up.”

His eyes finally leave the screen to dart down at your plate, quick and anxious. His lips are pursed tight when he sets the Switch down--you glance and realize he didn’t even bother to pause, and a sick feeling of combined flattery with anxiety thrumms through you.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, before unceremoniously pulling the plastic wrap from the microwaved bowl. The scrambled eggs inside look wet and sad. “Eat.”

It’s your turn to purse your lips.

“I’m full.”

He prods the dark, iffy apple with a finger. It rolls sadly on the plate.

“You didn’t eat anything. You hardly ate last night, too.”

Your cheeks feel hot and you can’t stop the words before they come out of your mouth.

“Yeah? How would you know? You’ve been stuck on that stupid game for days. I could’ve thrown up for all you care.”

His mouth makes the strangest sound--he almost sputters--before fixing a serious gaze on your face. He looks as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t. Maybe it’s better that way. Instead, he stares at you for a beat longer and then picks up your chopsticks, pressing a large, slightly congealed looking piece of scrambled egg in between them.

You know what he’s going to do next before he even holds the bite up to your lips, and the urge to slap his hand away, to lash out at him, is strong and tempting.

He looks at you expectantly. The egg hovers in between the two of you, a fitting lukewarm reminder of your situation.

You open your mouth and accept the bite; you swallow and instinctively open your mouth again, ready for another piece.

“Good job,’ he says, almost breezy, before picking up another piece.

Your stomach curls sickly at the praise and you stamp down the voice in the back of your head that wants to point out how utterly fucked up you’re being.

A noise from the Switch distracts you, and you glance down at the screen to see that the level is over; he’ll have to do the entire thing again. But not until after he’s finished with your breakfast.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere x reader #shigaraki x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes #dododo I have to rewrite baby mine part 3 #and i'm in a particular sort of mood so #surprise shigaraki!#whoops I forgot that it's part 3 in that vague series

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i-cant-sing · 4 years ago

Note

Omg part 2 for yan light please? Your writing is so on charater for him and yan L was also really good as well

Yandere Light Yagami Pt 2:

Pt 1 can be found here!

Thanks to everyone for requesting pt 1! Enjoy! :)

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Light Yagami:

You didn't know you could be this compliant. You didn't. But Light did.

As you both layed in bed, naked, Light holding you to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on your belly, you both had different train of thoughts that were ultimately going to reach the same station. You were thinking about how you had become so... docile? Had you been in confinement for too long? Was Stockholm syndrome kicking in? Was it because of the guilt of not being able to stop him? Or was it because Light killed everyone you cared about?

You had tried to play his psychological games. But you lost. You had managed to get a hold of the Deathnote, and you were going to write his name in but he caught you and broke your fingers. You then tried to play along; you came up with a good system for who to kill. You would do extensive research on each person, serving both purposes: to see if the person truly deserved death and to slow Light down. But you later found out that your efforts didn't matter. He was killing people on a whim and he was having someone else do it for him. Misa Amane. She was quite famous. And pretty too. You didn't know why Light would use you for intimacy, both in and out of bed, when he already had a willing participant.

For every mistake you made, no matter how little, Light would punish you by killing people you were even remotely associated with. Your family, friends, everyone was dead. And judging by the content look on his face, L was going to die soon too. Hopelessness. Maybe that's why you have become like this.

"I love you." Light said, pressing a kiss to your temple as he snuggled you more. "You're so beautiful like this." You really were, in his eyes. Now that you don't fight him anymore, now that you understood that you belong to him, you're beautiful. Light liked you being so... submissive. But more than that, he loved the look of complete defeat in your eyes, the realisation that you only have him in this world now. No ones going to come for you. No one could; only he and Misa knew about you.

"What's next?"you managed to ask him. Whats next on his list of impending doom? He hummed, before replying, "Well, soon all obstacles in my way are going to be removed. Once that happens, I'll become the ruler of the world. And then, I'll get rid of all the filth in this world." You closed your eyes, asking "how? Do you have a new system of justice in mind?" Light gripped your chin, turning your head towards him. "I am the system, (Y/n). I am justice." You saw that crazy look in his eyes. You sighed, turning away from him, but Light suddenly flipped you over, straddling your waist as he leaned down. His hair tickling your face as he looked at you with possessiveness. "Dont look so gloomy, darling. I know you feel lonely when I'm not here, but soon you'll have a baby to keep you company." He said before kissing you passionately, biting your lips hard before getting off of you. "For now, Misa will keep you entertained." He chuckled before putting the cuff back on your ankle, and left the room.

Misa. When you first met her, you knew she didn't like you. She thought that you were trying to steal Light from him, that you were actually in love with him. She tried to attack you at first, but Light had pulled her out of the room and told her that he actually loved her and that you were just a part of the plan, a temporary plaything. And so Misa put up with you. Light would usually put her in charge of you; he had caught you trying to stab yourself with a nail filer after he had slept with you the first time. And now that you were carrying his child, he had to make sure you wouldn't do anything like that again.

Misa came in a few hours later, locking the door behind her like usual. "Hey, (Y/n)!"she chirped, as she skipped towards you. "I brought some stuff for you!"she told you as she dangled big shopping bag. "Hi, Misa. Whats in that?"you asked her, your voice monotonous. She put the bag down and started to uncuff your ankle. "You'll see! But first, let's take a bath." She helped you clean up yourself and the room. Once she was done, she sat you down on the bed and gave you the bag. You opened the bag to find clothes in it. Maternity clothes. You had barely started to show. You were a bit glad that you hadn’t started showing, because anything associated with the baby would make you remember the events that caused it. When you first realised that you were pregnant, you tried everything you could to get rid of it. You didn't want to give him another thing to hold over your head. But once Light found out, he became even worse somehow. He was glad he was having a child; and now he had to do everything to make the world fit for his offspring. He started handing out harsher deaths, killing off people who rubbed him off the wrong way. To you, he stopped being physically violent. But he did become more possessive of you. He wanted to know what you were doing, why you were doing it. He wanted to know if you had fallen in love with him; if you had finally decided to become his lapdog.

When Misa came to know about your pregnancy, she was angry. Not at Light, but at you. But Light manipulated her again. He told her that he didn't want her to have a kid because her body would get messed up. And he needed her as his right hand, and being pregnant would get in the way of that. Once the baby was here, they would raise it together, as if you were a surrogate. Misa bought it.

You knew Misa wasn't stupid. She was actually quite intelligent. You actually enjoyed her company. After Light would do his number on you, it would be Misa who would come to pick up the pieces. She would be the one to wipe your tears away and bandage you up.

You had tried to convince her to let you go, tried to even fight her. But she was too observant. She predicted your moves. She always knew when you were planning something. She saw right through you.

You thanked Misa for the maternity clothes. She had ordered you guys some food, your favourite. As you began eating, Misa looked at your belly, with adoration and envy? "Penny for your thoughts?"your voice brought her of her trance. "Oh! It's nothing. Just thinking about how much Light would love the baby. I cant wait for it to come!" She smiled. You looked at her, shaking your head. "He won't." "What?" "He won't love the baby, Misa. He isn't capable of that."you told her. She smiled, "You're wrong. He does love. He loves me! He loves you too, I know. But he loves me more! And he'll love the baby as well!"

You finished up your food, "Light doesn't love us Misa. Not you, me or this baby. If he did, why would he beat you? I've seen the bruises on your arms, don't try denying. You know that he's just using you to achieve his goals. And I'm just a rag doll for him. You deserve better than him. You don’t deserve the resentment Light gives you when all you do is love him. Once he's tired of us, he'll get rid of us too. He’s hurt both of us. He's hurting both of us." You held her hand, looking her dead in the eyes. "And love isn't supposed to hurt Misa." She looked at you with an indescribable emotion in her eyes, whatever fantasy of Light she had, was cracking. "Whatever. Its not like I've got through to you before anyways-" you were cut off by Misa, her soft lips crashing with yours.

You tried to push her off, but she wouldn't budge. You heard the door open and suddenly she was ripped off of you. It was Light. He dragged Misa to the corner of the room and started thrashing her. "WHAT THE FUCK MISA?! I TOLD YOU TO LOOK AFTER HER! NOT FUCK HER!" Misa starts stammering, "Light, baby. Its not what you think-" She was cut off by Light slapping her. "Oh its not?! You were fucking sticking your tongue down her throat!" "No, it was just an accide-" He slapped her again, causing her to cry. "SHUT UP! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED YOU! SHE'S MINE! MINE!" Light started choking her, not realising in his screaming fit that he'd left the door wide open for you.

This was it. The perfect distraction. Your moment to escape has finally come. But you couldn't move. Not when your eyes were fixed on Misa.

You were almost a carbon copy of Light when it came to intelligence. But you still weren't able to escape him all these months. Because Light was able to control you because of a single flaw of yours. You cared. You cared about people you didn't even know, but you still cared.

If I leave now, she will die. And with that thought, you lunged towards Light, pulling at his arms trying to get him off. "Light! Stop it! Its not her fault!" Suddenly, you were pushed to the ground. Light started punching you. "Oh I know its not her fault! ITS YOURS! YOU DECIDED TO WHORE YOURSELF TO HER SO YOU COULD GET OUT OF HERE, RIGHT?! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT. YOU. BELONG. TO. ME!?!"He yelled between punches.

Misa looked at you from behind Light's shoulder. She quickly got up and tried to stop him. Pulling at his arm, she yelled again "Light! Stop! You'll kill her and the baby!" But he didn't stop, only replying "She's gone through worse! And if the baby's that weak, then it doesn't deserve to survive!" And just like that, Misa realised you were right. Whatever dream she had of Light and her was gone. She slowly backed away from Light.

Light was still punching you, even though you had lost consciousness long ago. Suddenly, Light started choking up. He got off you, not understanding what was happening to him. He turned to look for Misa, asking her to help him. But as she stood there, with the Deathnote in her hands, he realised what had happened. Misa had written his name. "M-Misa!?" She just stood there, her eyes glazed. Or had she finally woken up? "Love isn't supposed to hurt, Light And you've hurt us. A lot. Now perish."

Once Light had stopped breathing, she rushed towards you. She checked for your pulse. You were still alive. Misa pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "It'll be okay, (Y/n). We'll be okay. I'll fix everything."

You all got part 2, I got the ending I wanted. Everybody wins.

Now if someone here knows how to study biochem or do witchcraft, hmu cause I dont wanna fail exams. Speaking of which, Ill be less active here, so if you do send in requests, keep them short. Or better yet, send in questions. I’ll be happy to answer them. :)

#yandere death note #yandere light yagami #light yagami x reader #light yagami #yandere light #yandere light x reader #yandere misa #misa amane x reader #yandere misa amane

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

Text

BNHA HEADCANNONS

INTIMATE ACTIVITIES

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, kidnapping, abduction, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control

TIP-JAR

YANDERE ! BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

Katsuki enjoys several other things apart from bedroom activities. All he needs is to feel needed. He loves cooking for his darling, watching movies and snuggling on the couch or in bed, he even wants to dance on some evenings, all in the confines of his home though. Because he just loves those extra intimate interactions with his darling: his house is equipped with pools, a jacuzzi, showers and a sauna. He just wants and needs her in all those semi-naked situations. Needs to satisfy his ownership of her. He will allow her access to every room of their house. He has installed every safety measure he deemed necessary for it to be possible for her to wander about. Having artificial staff to clean instead of actual, interactable, distracting human beings. He loves ensuring his darling that he’s the only thing she’ll ever need. And, because of this, Katsuki’s favorite thing to do in the bedroom is going down on his darling. Whether it be before, in between or after sex, preferably all. He’s a giver, but for selfish reasons obviously. He likes to feel her squirm and squeal beneath him, under his lips and tongue and teeth. He likes to prove how well he knows her body and taste what a mess he’s reduced her to afterwards.

YANDERE ! DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi is kinky. Not to an extreme extent, however more so than most. He rarely uses his quirks, but is not above doing so. He will brand his darling with his name and the occasional thumbprint hearts, but nothing more. He enjoys powerplay, as in collars and leashes and handcuffs, but rarely anything more than that, mostly because he isn’t that much of a patientperson. Dabi’s favorite bedroom service is a blowjob, of course. He loves seeing his darling down on her knees making him feel good, sucking him off as though her life depends on it. He loves every part of it, from her lips tightening around his shaft, to the walls of her mouth closing around him, hitting the wall in the back of her throat, even feeling her teeth slightly graze against him. But, nothing beats when she swallows so perfectly and gives him the outmost adorable little thank you afterwards, kissing his cock as if it were some gracious offering. He does enjoy other things apart from sex though. He loves the aftermath. Snuggling. Oh, how he loves snuggling. The soft drum of her heartbeat against him, the smell of her mingling with the smell of him. His darling’s soft skin pressed against the leathery texture of his purple marred flesh. He hopes she doesn’t scathe and annoy by it.

YANDERE ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Tomura absolutely worships his darling, he doesn’t take anything she offers for granted. Even if he has to threaten her first. He enjoys playing videogames with her, though… he’s too easily distracted. He’ll want something else, something more, quickly. Whether it be kisses, hugs, or for her to brush her fingertips across his skin. Simply feeling her warmth up against him is enough for Tomura to shiver in ecstasy. However… it’s far from satisfactory. Once he gets a taste, he almost immediately needs more, and he’s not one to hold himself back. He will take if she does not offer, and he does not take lightly to her teasing. During sex: Tomura enjoys the cowgirl position above all else. Seeing his darling kneeling so perfectly in his lap, the both of them cradling one another, her hands wrapped around his neck, his hands being able to touch each and every part of her. Savoring the moment, as she displays in offering to him. He takes time enjoying himself, dragging out every moment until he’s contently satiated. He returns the favor, never leaving his darling unsatisfied, even though she probably would prefer it that way.

YANDERE ! SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi wants to talk. To talk to and observe, dissect, analyze his darling’s every word. He wants her thoughts, her emotions, her everything. Talking is part of why he fell in love with her. Because she seemed to want to talk as much as he did. She wasn’t scared either, the words seemed to pour out like poetry; unrestricted. A social butterfly incapable of staying quiet, incapable of leaving his questions unanswered. She was perfect for him. Even after he took her, she still couldn’t stop herself. He needn’t even use his quirk… most of the time. But… Hitoshi just loves taking advantage of his quirk in the bedroom, as so to have his darling focus on the pleasures he’s giving her instead of how wrong it feels. Hitoshi, quite like Dabi yet even to a more extreme, is a very kinky guy. He loves gifting his darling with trinkets. Loving to dress her up in all straps and lace and chains and stocking and collars and leashes, all branded with his name on them… perhaps even cat ears and a cage and making her call him master while he calls her kitty. He has a lot in store for his darling.

YANDERE ! TAMAKI KEIGO - HAWKS

Keigo wants to find out what a relationship is. He doesn’t have a lot to go on, except for numerous romance movies and series. He isn’t shy though, he’ll get creative and experiment. Cuddling, wrapping his wings around his darling. It proves beneficial, both in being more comfortable for him and in keeping his darling in place. Showering together, shampooing one another’s hair. He’ll trap her mouth in his hand and make her breath in the water if she refuses to oblige his wishes. Cooking together. She’ll wish she just cut the vegetables like he asked. It’s a good thing she can never get a good hit in, despite however many times she tries. Keigo seems unbothered, never dwelling, never holding any grudges. There are too many other activities that needs his attention. Keigo prefers standing during sex. More control that way. With the freedom of his wings, something of which would be hard to maintain were they to be lying in a bed. He loves taking his darling up against the wall, whether she’s standing on her own two feet with her face mushed against the boards, or with him holding her up under her thighs with her legs cradling him. Keigo isn’t picky though, so any position where his wings are free is just fine with him.

YANDERE ! MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku just wants to be close, that’s really all he needs, they don’t even have to have any sex, they don’t even have to be that naked, or... at least not at first, not before she’s neatly settled in and come to terms with the fact that she is to love him until the end of times and won’t ever be leaving. Any position that allows him to reach and admire every part of his darling is perfect for him, yet he prefers to be able to see her face. He only allows her in the bed, anything else would be too rough for his little darling. The bed is the only safe place for her. So, that’s exactly where she’ll stay, out of harm’s way. He’ll bring her food and activities such as novels, notebooks, sketchbooks, anything she asks of him as long as she stays in the bed. He understands it when she gets restless. He too, would grow feral being suspended to a bed all day. But, he really can’t trust her with herself and risk her being free without his supervision. She’s bound to hurt herself, being as fragile as she is. He’ll insist on carrying her if she wants to go to the bathroom, pouring the right temperature into the bathtub and insisting on getting in with her. He’ll make it clear that he doesn’t mind, that he quite enjoys it. There will come a time where he enjoys it a bit too much, where he’ll insist that his needs and her needs are one of the same. By what time, he’ll have grown so demented, she’d count herself blessed if she’s ever given the time to sleep again.

YANDERE ! CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Bubble-baths. His darling; surrounded by soap-bubbles. Her skin being smooth and slippery against his own; glowing. He wants her constantly, but if there’s a time where he feels his composure slip, it’s when they’re clean and perfect with only each-other and the soap surrounding them. But, despite being entitled, despite being impatient, despite wanting to have her in the outmost depraved ways… he’ll go about things rather professionally and respectfully, because Kai is, despite everything, a traditional guy. He believes in decorum and customs. So, his favorite position to have during intercourse is obviously missionary, the way it should be. That doesn’t, by any means, mean he is a mediocre guy. He just enjoys the contours and slopes and curves and dips of his darling’s face. How beautifully lit, bright and glossy her eyes get when he rams into her. How plump and juicy her lips are when they absorb the tears running down her cheeks. The soft crinkle between her brows and how her mouth hangs upon, shameful moans spilling past her lips. It’s all too much for him to ever want to face away from her whilst doing something so intimate. He allows himself to remove his gloves when they’re bathing. If only to feel the smooth, clean and warm feel of her throat under his fingers, as he fucks her into oblivion.

YANDERE ! TODOROKI SHOTO

Shoto is quiet. And, it’s strange, because she used to think it was because he was a soft soul. He isn’t. Shoto’s favorite sexual endeavor is spanking, to see how far that spirit of hers actually reaches, he’s never disappointed. Whether she’s bended over his lap, the table, the sofa, any surfaces really, or chained to the ceiling, or on all fours presenting her ass so delectably for him. He loves seeing his handprint branded on her plump flesh. Enjoying what different colors he can bring to the surface by exchanging which quirk he uses. He finds it very efficient as well, given that his darling rarely disobeys him. She often wonders in fear what fresh hell his punishments could possibly be when his awards are already so brutal. He never skips on aftercare though, even though his cooing and affection is unwanted. Never understanding that his affection doesn't make up for the brutality. He’ll hold her tightly to his chest, cool down the swollen flesh, stroke her hair, kissing her forehead almost so softly she nearly forgets what he just did to her moments before. He’ll balance everything out to an obsessive degree. For every slap, she’ll also get a kiss. For every burn, he’ll also cool it down and vice versa. Every time they do something unpleasant, he’ll be sure to have something softer planned the next day. She isn’t sure which she dislikes the most, but… there’ll come a time where she won’t be sure which one she enjoys more.

TIP-JAR

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sorryimanon · 4 years ago

Text

Character: Shouto Todoroki

Long distance isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Your boyfriend, Shouto, goes overseas on a special mission in America. Back home, you try to take advantage of the distance with a couple of pictures.

Warnings: 18+, phone sex

Word count: 4k

Shouto watched with somber eyes as you packed the last remaining suitcase into the trunk of the car, back still turned against him so he couldn't see your tears. Bakugou and Izuku insisted on driving to the airport together, taking into consideration that they were all traveling overseas to the same destination. The night before, you were being a stubborn brat, not liking the idea of sending Shouto off at the crack of dawn. He showered you with affection afterward, his body never leaving your touch. Making love didn't cross both of your minds. It would've hurt in the after glow knowing the distance that'll be between you for the months to come. The two of you decided to just lay lifelessly in each other's arms, limbs interlocking, fingers carefully tracing skin, and hearts beating in unison. Moments like that is what truly captured the relationship as a whole.

With your back still turned, Shouto saunters over and wraps his arms around your torso, along with his head resting on top of yours. You hummed at his subtle touch. Eyes drawn to a close, you ruffled his split colored hair, already imagining the smile forming on his stern face. It was always a miracle when you manage to witness Shouto genuinely smile without forcing it.

You turned on your heel and reposition Shouto's hands on your hips. "Call me as soon as you touch down in America. Okay?" you didn't care at how needy you sounded, anything involving Shouto and hero work gave you anxiety.

The arm holding onto your hip soon reached the bottom of your chin, tilting it slightly so your eyes can formally meet. His dark irises became glossy as you stared harder, trying to capture every feature before he leaves in case within those months you forgot what he looks like. Even though you had a separate album on your phone filled to the brim with selfies and funny pictures of him, mostly taking up your storage space.

"I promise sweetheart. Remember, this will be the shortest 6 months you'll endure. I'll be home quicker than you can say All Might," he said, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. The action made you blush and giddy, referring back to the ways he'd make you feel during U.A.

Subconsciously, you both lean in against each other, waiting patiently for who's making the next move. Your lips hovered over his, unsure if he wants to kiss goodbye or stay wrapped in your arms. A minute has gone by and you two stayed cemented in the same position. Fuck it, you thought. Who cares if it'll make you miss each other more. You harshly grabbed his face and leaned forward, preparing your lips to come into contact. But the loud beep emitting from the car made you both jump out of each other's grasp, knocking you backwards onto the cold surface.

Bakugou's head popped out comically from one of the windows, eyes gleaming with rage.

"Oi! Hurry up you dumbasses! We were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago!" he hollered, spit spraying out from this mouth.

You overheard Izuku, who was in the passengers seat, trying to calm down the explosive blonde. A pair of calloused hands slipped behind the back of your neck, crashing your lips to mount another. There's no hunger in the kiss. No teeth or tongue battling it out. Just pure passion burning within the languish kiss. Feeling satisfied, Shouto released himself from your mouth, leaving you breathlessly staring back at him in awe. With one last romantic gesture, your boyfriend rubbed the outer part of your cheek and pinched it between his fingers, smiling at your reddened reaction and shuffled towards the side door of the car.

"I love you y/n," was all he said before sliding the door shut.

You mumbled the exact sentiment as the car revved up and maneuvered out of your driveway. Shortly after wiping away some dried up tears, the car soon disappears from your line of vision, leaving you all alone on the driveway.

“All Might...” you whisper to no one in particular.

About 3 months into the trial of long distance, you were already experiencing the symptoms of postpartum-boyfriend-syndrome. Constantly crying yourself to sleep? Check. Going through his Instagram to make sure he didn’t delete any of your pictures together? Check. Texting him every hour on any given day to see how fast he’d respond? Check. Also, the inevitable weight gain from stress eating? Double check.

A couple of your friends noticed the sudden mood change when Shouto arrived in America that first initial month of separation. Momo for example, confronted you in the locker room at the agency one day, spewing about how you almost got yourself decapitated by a villain when your guard was down.

“I’m sorry Momo. My mind has been in the gutter lately. Shouto hasn’t texted me all day since this morning. I’m just worried this whole long distance thing is going to ruin our relationship,” you admitted , wincing at how incredibly clingy you sounded.

Momo began undressing herself, her lips caught between her teeth, clearly taking in what you said. Once she shimmied our from her hero costume, a devilish smirk rested upon her face.

“If you feel like your relationship is going grey, maybe try to spice things up a little. Ya know? Use the distance to your advantage.”

Your hands stopped themselves from unzipping your tight suit. “Hah? What do you mean by that?”

Momo chuckled, amused by how innocent you were acting.

“Come on, you know what I mean y/n,” she slipped on her everyday attire and closed the locker. “You know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.” With that she gave you a wink and left the room.

A picture huh?

Across from you was a massive mirror. Each end reaching the edge of the room, everything being showcased, including you. Sometimes you’d walk in catching a few of the prohero girls taking selfies. They all had one thing in common, confidence. Something you had before Shouto’s departure. It felt as if someone used an ice pick to cut away the very little self esteem you had left, leaving you with barely anything to offer anymore. You couldn’t help to compare yourself to the proheros Shouto has been working alongside with since being in America. American girls were a different breed. Everyone over there looks exactly the same but different somehow. You tried not to think too much as you resumed on unzipping your hero costume. Today you wore a plain black bra set underneath. You hardly put on anything skimpy or sexy since you’re practically on patrol everyday, resorting to your trusty sport bras.

You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the horizontal mirror, gaping at the added fat in your chest area. All thanks to the weight gain, your boobs looked delicious in the bra. The lower half of your body was nothing to ignore either. Your ass filled up the small undergarments, cheeks teasingly spilling out.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Momo’s words enticed you enough to grab your cellphone from the pocket of your duffel bag. Work hours was over for everyone in the building, so you weren’t worried about someone walking in on this compromising state.

You tried to mimic the poses you witnessed from the times you watched the girls do it. One hand on the hip, the other behind your head, along with angling your ass to the side. The pose was uncomfortable. How did they manage to hold this stance for longer than ten seconds? You took some pictures anyway, ignoring how awkward you presented yourself in the mirror.

Each picture you swiped through didn’t meet the criteria. Were these even good enough to send off to Shouto? He loves you no matter what, he reminded you everyday in fact, but your stomach dropped of the thought of him being revolted at these images. You quickly deleted all of the them and sighed in defeat. One more try.

Dropping down to your knees, you held the camera above your head, showing off every part of your body. You spread your legs a couple of inches, your cloth slit on full display. To add even more, you leaned forward a little bit to have your boobs almost spilling out from your tight bra. Through the camera lens, the top part of your nipples were visible. Surly Shouto wasn’t dense to not notice.

Your mouth was agape as you stared at the pictures you recently took. This person in the frame didn’t look anything like you. If you were to show this to Momo she’d be a proud mother.

Without hesitation, you sent a couple of the pictures to Shouto, leaving a cute little message at the bottom once they finally delivered.

Missing you extra today :) xoxo

You didn’t wait for his reply and started packing up everything in your area. Hopefully Shouto won’t be angry at your sudden bluntness, but he left you no choice. An acute noise came from your duffle bag. The blood rushing through your veins suddenly became very cold. It must be a message from Shoto, it has to be. You waited till you arrived safely home to check what he responded with. To your dismay, it was a reminder for next weeks meeting. You shuffled out from your car and headed straight to your shared apartment, a pout currently prominent on your face due to the failed mission.

On the other side, Shouto sat stoic in a plush chair listening attentively to one of the leaders reporting about the current mission. Next to him was a grouchy looking Bakugou, who was currently falling in and out of sleep in his seat. By no surprise Izuku was the only one in the group wide awake and full of energy. The trio has been traveling across the nation helping out with smaller hero agencies in hopes for there to be a stronger allegiance between the USA and Japan. So far it’s been excruciatingly draining on not just their bodies but minds as well. All Shoto wants is to feel the familiar warmth of your body pressed against his. His touch starving tendencies wandered into his personal life when Bakugou caught him snuggling the hotel pillows one night, mumbling your name over and over again. Pathetic as it is, he misses you so much. Although, he wouldn’t admit that out loud, he tried to keep you updated on everything that’s been happening. He has a hard time expressing his feelings, especially when it comes to you. So when he felt his bottom pocket vibrate, he half expected it to be a goodnight message from you, since you’re a couple of hours ahead of him. Nothing prepared him for the promiscuous photo you shared of yourself plastered on his screen, looking back at him with dilated eyes and flushed cheeks.

Blood rushed to the lower region of his pants as he pinched the screen to get a better inspection of you. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful in this vulnerable state, not to mention how your body perfectly clings to his favorite pair of underwear, every curve and beauty mark showcasing before him. Below the plethora of lewdness, a short message from you was attached.

Missing you a extra today :) xoxo

Stifling a groan, he began to type out a reply, stumbling on his words even in text. Before he could press send, someone slapped Shouto’s shoulder and dragged him to his feet.

“Come on half cold bastard the meeting is over. We’re free to go,” Bakugou grumbled as he pushes Shouto out of the cramped room, having Midoriya to follow suit. Bakugou shifted his gaze to Shouto’s phone, gazing at the gross nickname for you on the screen. Shouto angles his phone away from Bakugou’s peripheral vision, praying that he didn’t see your half naked body.

Shouto stuffed his cellular device into his back pocket again, awaiting for the right moment to text you back. Knowing the dynamic of the relationship, his silence is nothing out of the ordinary, so maybe you weren’t thinking too much into this.

Hours later and still no reply from Shouto. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you figured he probably hasn’t seen it yet, but the “read at ___” has your heart twisting in a knot. You knew he was a couple of hours behind, but would it take for him to at least send a well thought out compliment. Maybe he’s in the midst of an intense battle? Or worse, hooking up with one of the American colleagues. No, Shoto isn’t like that. Being unfaithful is uncharacteristically unlike Shouto. You mentally slap yourself for painting your loyal boyfriend in a different light, all because of some stupid pictures.

Clearing your mind from anymore self sabotage, you did your nightly routine to get ready for bed. As you tucked yourself in, the bright light from your phone flashed, indicating a notification. Everyone in your contact list has already gone to sleep. Everyone excluding Shouto. Frantically, you reached over to grab the phone, swiping across the screen to view his message. The following text shot daggers through your chest.

Call me now

No mention of the photos you sent hours ago. It took him this long just to conjure up a cryptic message. Although, you were curious to see what he'll say to you once he picks up. You pressed the phone icon on his profile and waited, the ringing making you sweat with anticipation. He answered on the third ring.

There was an uncommon silence hanging in the air. On the other end of the call, you can hear the faint acute breathing coming from your boyfriend. You laid frozen in bed, cowardly holding in your breath to prevent any noise.

Shouto broke the silence and said, "I'm sorry for not texting you all day. There was an immediate emergency that lasted longer than we expected."

You nodded your head, but then caught yourself after realizing he can't see your movement over the phone, and let out a grunt instead.

"So..."

"So?" It came out more aggressive than you wanted it to be, but the constant cat and mouse game of today set you over.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked.

No. Not in a million years could you ever be angry at him. Yes, sometimes there's things he did that you wish he'd do better, like expressing himself instead of sheltering back in his shell. Or the way how you envied the relationships your coworkers had, their partners showing them off like it was second nature. Not once did Shouto verbally express his sexual desires. As selfish as it is, you wanted to explore more with him than just regular mundane vanilla sex. Sadly you knew his response was probably going to be lackluster. But no, you weren't mad, just jealous.

"I'm not mad Shouto. Just...very disappointed in you."

In the background, the definite click of a lock from a door rattled your ears. He's in his hotel room, you thought.

"Is this about what happened earlier today?" he started, dragging his tired feet to the hotel bed. "You know, the pictures-"

"Right, the only pictures I put any effort into just for them to be completely ignored by my own boyfriend."

The line went silent again. Even though he isn't here, if he was, he'd be glaring at you with his intense stare, those bi-colored eyes never wavering away from yours.

"You really want to know how I truly felt about those pictures you sent?" His voice dropped a lower octave, sounding as though he dipped himself in pure molasses. Rich as it is, his sudden change of tone aroused you, sending an involuntary wave of pleasure through your body, tipping to the peak of your sex. The only time you heard him sound like this was either when he's livid to the core or about to completely wreck your shit. Both would coincide with each other on special occasions.

He didn't give you enough time to answer, figuring you were too stubborn to reply, and voiced his inner thoughts.

"The fact that you even think I didn't appreciate the photo's is quite silly sweetheart. In fact," you can hear the clanking of metal on the other end. "It makes me sad that I'm not there to worship every inch of that body. Was that your plan all along? To get me worked up by how much I miss your touch?" Shouto struggled removing his pants, the tent forming beneath them restricting him to smoothly slip them off.

You tried to keep your excitement down by squeezing your legs together, almost to the point where they crossed. Soon your breathing became sporadic. Just picturing Shouto touching himself while you both were on call gave you an adrenaline rush. Knowing you couldn't touch him but just yourself intensified your arousal even more. Slowly, you dragged a lazy finger from your sternum to the area around your belly button, tracing small circles on the skin.

"What would you have done to me if you caught me in that moment? Taking those pictures," your sultry tone boomed through his speakers, almost taken back by your approach.

Shouto raised his hips and shimmed out from his tight work pants and started palming himself through his briefs. "Sweetheart, id do nothing but ravish you. Taking my sweet time with you....fuck...I miss you so much," he couldn't hold back the whine he trapped in his throat as soon as his finger swiped over his clothed slit. The sound alone triggered a warm sensation spreading down below, already feeling the wetness coating your panties. By now, Shouto’s fingers would be disappearing inside of you, scissoring and messaging your velvety walls till you broke out screaming, but you had to make do and resort to playfully teasing yourself.

"Ngh...I miss you too...S-Shoto."

"Are you touching yourself love?"

Both of you were far too gone in arousal, there was no point in holding back your sexual pleas.

"Y-Yes, but I wish it was your fingers instead."

Hearing those words coming from your lips encouraged him to shove his entire hand down his boxers, gripping the base of his cock with ease. A small gasp left his lips feeling the crisp, cold air of the hotel room hit his exposed member. He shifted his hand vertically, giving light tugs to it before pumping it vigorously. The sensation strained him to close his eyes, seeing nothing but you doing the work for him. Late nights in the various hotel rooms consisted of him getting off to memories of all the intimate moments you two shared together. Of course it was lonely, but he never resorted to surfing the internet of lewd videos of random girls. They just weren't you. But tonight, he could finally relieve himself to the sweet ambiance of your moans. And he definitely wasn't going to regret it in the morning like usual.

"Listen to me, go faster for me baby," Shouto instructed, "Imagine it's me touching you."

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, fully coaxing your face in heat. You followed through and dipped your fingers into your sex, feeling the warm texture of your walls petting them. All those months without any sexual relief built up so much tension that the tightness within you restricted from anymore movements. After a few strokes, you loosen and manage to reach in far enough to the peak of your knuckles.

Meanwhile, Shouto's hand never grew tired at the tedious strokes, pre cum dripping till it reached his inner thighs. Your name kept spewing out from his throat like a mantra, like you were the only thing he prayed for at night. Despite his lack of moaning, he grunted with each pump, the built up causing him to breathe heavy as well. Generously, he held the phone close enough for you to hear the continuous slapping of skin, along with the combination of wetness. You didn't restrain yourself from moaning though. Every whimper, moan, and groan reverberated across his empty hotel room.

"You wanna know something?" He tried to keep his breathing at a normal pace, but he hastily kept pumping at quick speed. "Everytime I go to one of those dull meetings, I can't help but to imagine you riding me in front of everyone...ngh!"

The confession elicited a moan from you, along with your legs shaking due to the stimulation. Your head flew back and hit the pile of pillows, mouth agape as you added in another finger.

"I miss the feeling of being inside you. So...fucking...bad,” he was beginning to lose his voice , sounding as though he was in constant pain. Poor boy.

"I never took you as being so up front Shouto, what happened?" You challenged him through the phone.

"I guess you really don't know me baby," Shouto shot up from the bed and bent over, not once removing his hand from his member. "Fuck fuck fuck...I can't wait till I come home, so I can finally taste you."

The coil within you was beginning to snap. Snaking your fingers underneath your shirt, you started flicking your thumb over one of your perked nipples, still immersed into the idea that he's actually the one touching you instead. Toes curling and arms bunching up the sheets, you knew you were about to climax. Just by hearing his speech pattern, you can conclude he was close as well.

"I'm about- I'm about to cum S-Shouto!" You pathetically whine.

"Cum with me baby. I've been holding off for you."

Even during intense moments like this, Shouto's gentleman persona didn't fade away over the course the relationship. With the knowledge you have now, knowing he's been on the verge of relief, you pumped your fingers in sheer brutality, never once missing the g-stop. Throwing his head back, Shouto was now on his knees pleading for mercy from the pleasurable pain shooting up through his member. He let out an exasperated whine.

"Now baby, cum for me."

Then you felt it, the knotted tension within you disappearing. Everything around you looked white, like someone snuck in and painted your room a different color. You can faintly hear Shouto orgasming on the other end of the phone as you calm down from yours. He's heard you climax many times before, but hearing your angelic screams over the speaker made him cum harder.

A few minutes later and you two were now recuperating from the intoxicating session, harsh breathing overlapping each other. It felt like years later when he detached his hand, now coated in his own fluids and cramped up. You loosened yourself and removed the two fingers finally. They glistened with your fluid as well, giving off the impression it was just sweat.

"Y/N? Are you still there?" Shouto's voice alerted you awake, almost forgetting you didn't manifest him to finish you off. You grab the phone after cleaning your drenched fingers and propped it on the pillow next to your shoulder.

"Wow that was-."

"Amazing?" He finishes.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

He mischievously chuckled, "I know. I heard it loud and clear a minute ago."

You audibly groan loud enough for him to hear while snatching the nearest pillow to smother yourself with.

"So, are you planning on sending any more pictures like that during these last 3 months?"

His innocent inquiry made you break out into a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Those pictures sprouted a future of appraisal from your boyfriend, who you thought would never voice his inner thoughts till the day he dies. You two also found a secretive kink to phone sex as you continue to explore with him during these periods of loneliness. Once he arrives home, he assures none of that is just a “phase” as you two kept venturing beyond to sext each other during important events.

A picture really is worth a thousand words.

(Truthfully, honestly, this is possibly the worst thing I wrote but someone asked for a cute little passionate session with Shoto specifically. I hope you enjoyed (?)

530 notes · View notes

poptod · 4 years ago

Text

The Breeding Kings (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Ahkmen’s new school year starts with a bang.

Notes: guess who has imposter syndrome!!!! heres my next work i think??? idk where my inspiration is gonna pull me at any given time. i just wanna say this takes place when ahk’s pretty young! not like ten or something lmao but lets just say hes not an adult. by the way, the reader is indian (indus valley, at the time). WC: 7.3k

"Don't we look like a dream?"

A sharp inhale brought his eyes to shoot open, staring through the cold air to the blank ceiling above him. For a moment he frowned, as his bed had a silk canopy above it, but he quickly realized he had passed out in his friend's room again. He groaned softly, raising his hand to rub his face.

"What... happened last night?" He grumbled, his voice turning to a whisper when the volume of it left him wincing.

No response.

"Piye?"

Ahkmen raised himself, though very strenuously, and looked over the tables and stools thrown beside him. Splinters nearly dug into his fingertips, but he jerked away before anything could lodge.

Piye was much in the same position. Quite literally, with their limbs strewn about, hair a knotted mess upon their head. The only difference was that Piye was lying face down, their face squished into one of the table legs. He almost laughed, but even the spreading of a smile sparked a headache, so instead he poked his blacked out friend.

They groaned, loudly, but did not move. Ahkmen continued to poke them until they finally had enough, pushing themselves upwards.

"What the hell do you want?" They asked, their voice low and scratchy. Even their eyes had yet to open, stuck shut with crushed eyelashes.

"What did we do last night?" He asked in a mumble, resting his weight on the thin edge of a fallen table.

"You invited Panya and she killed us with beer," Piye breathed out, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hand.

"Fuck," said Ahkmen. "An... what day's today?"

Piye breathed very deeply before opening their mouth, letting out a roar of a yell, "DAD?!? What's today??"

Ahkmen winced away, covering his ears until Piye lay back down, still relaxing into the pile of chairs and tables.

"It is the eleventh of Khuiahk," came Adom's voice from around the corner of the tiny hallway leading to the door of Piye's room. Ahkmen heard a flip of papyrus before he spoke again, "you have school today, if that's what you're wondering."

"Ah... shit," Piye sighed.

"That means I have school too," Ahkmen said with widening eyes, a pitiful sense of dread overcoming his hangover. "I can't learn like this. I haven't showered since yesterday, I – I barely have a hold on my thoughts, I can't stand loud noises –"

"If you can still gripe like that, you're fine," Piye said flatly, lying for a moment more before their eyes opened, making way for them to sit up and stand.

"But –"

"Calm down, my Prince," Piye said with a derisive bow. "It's quite alright. I'll get us ready within the hour."

Having Piye as a friend came in handy a number of times, but especially when it came to maintaining his image of a perfect son. His parents adored him dearly, but Ahkmen was convinced that that status could be stripped at any moment, and that they would begin to treat him as they did his brother, Kamun. Thus having Piye to excuse away his mistakes was beyond helpful to him, let alone the secret capabilities of the palace physician's child.

In a calm-as-ever demeanor, Piye shoved both him and themself into clothes too warm for the sunshine already beating down on them through windows. The Prince felt a little off––a little more disgusted with himself than usual––but his discomfort was quickly remedied with a stop by the Nile, where the two quickly washed themselves.

Returning into clothes was made easy by the sun that dried the water on their skin within a minute of leaving the river. The two dressed, shoving their legs into skirts and golden bands as they walked, stumbling through the streets with soaking wet hair.

"One last stop," Piye said before they reached the center of the city, pulling Ahkmen off down a hidden alley.

Boxes and carts of goods had been stacked as wide as the thin alley, but they were easily climbed, and the two found themselves in an entirely different part of town.

"How quick is this stop going to be? We're already going to be late," Ahkmen said, but continued to follow Piye without fail.

"Wouldn't worry about it," they assured as they directed him into a tent of red and purple drapes.

Smoke welled in the ceiling, already uncomfortably low for Ahkmen, and even worse for Piye. It must've been important, whatever Piye was trying to do, as they were particularly sensitive about their height at times, and tried not to draw attention to it. The only true light inside the tiny shop was the burning incense, and what little sun could make it through the dark fabric that made up the ceiling and walls. When Ahkmen caught the scent, he recognized it easily––myrrh.

"What are we doing here?" Ahk whispered, trying to look over Piye's shoulder as they led the way through continuous halls of silk.

"Yogi?" Piye said, knocking against the first hard surface they could find.

There was a moment of silence before the wall of satin before him rustled, rippling till it split open to reveal you; a small, foreign child about his age, with a bright red dot on your forehead above wide eyes. His heart thumped erratically as you met his gaze. While he couldn't directly place where you were from, the style of your home and lavish clothes as well as your facial features assured him you were not Egyptian.

"Be needing something, Piye?" You said in a thick accent, looking up at the magi who towered above you.

"One of your drinks," they said. You nodded and ducked back into your room.

"We don't need more to drink," Ahkmen whispered.

"It's a hangover cure. You'll be wanting it."

"Oh."

A moment later you returned, two clay cups in hand swirling with a red mixture. Ahkmen looked suspiciously into the liquid, trying to decipher the ingredients, before Piye knocked their whole cup back and swallowed it in a single gulp. Scuffing his sandal against the floor, he copied his friend's movements.

Sweet, but thick. Like dough, but slimy, and the sensation of it slowly sliding down his throat only brought about more questions as to the ingredients.

"You must be one of their friends," you said once they both finished, handing their mugs to you.

"Well, um..." Ahkmen looked up to Piye, "yes. We're on our way to Osiris' temple."

"You are, then... students?"

"Yes. I study language and morals, Anpu here studies law," Piye answered for him, patting Ahkmen's shoulder.

"The bell will start soon. You should go, the priests are not made of give," you said as you set the cups aside, showing them out the door.

Blazing sun burnt the back of his eyes as he stepped outside, back into the radiating heat and the empty street, which lay an alley's walk away from the Temple of Osiris. He squinted, searching for the boxes he'd climbed earlier.

"Over here," Piye directed him, and he followed.

"Where's your friend from? Doesn't sound like –"

"- like Egyptian is their first language," Piye finished. "I've never bothered to ask, but if I had to guess, somewhere in the east. Our friendship is mostly limited to school, and medicine."

"They study medicine?" Ahkmen asked incredulously. If you weren't native to Egypt, and it was painfully obvious you weren't, it would be a feat beyond God to achieve any form of education concerning the human body.

"Not proper medicine, mind you. It's back-alley magic," Piye said, opening the door to the temple and allowing Ahkmen to pass in front of them.

"Quite literally," Ahkmen mumbled beneath his breath, scanning the main temple for any sign of the priests.

"Right."

"And what was with that fake name?"

"I don't think they –"

"I cannot imagine it will be a fantastic impression on your teachers that you are late on your first day of schooling," came a voice from behind them.

Both Ahkmen and Piye whirled around, wide eyes meeting the High Priest of Osiris, an older man named Yafeu that had never been fond of the royal family. Fortunately, he would not be teaching anyone––the High Priest's position was 'too important' to concern itself with the younger generations teachings. Osiris and his temple required constant cleaning, as well as regularly cleaned offerings of jewels and flowers, plates of delicacies that reached the knee of the massive statue sat at the head of the temple.

In fact, that was where Ahkmen stood; before the statue of Osiris. Somewhere he was not supposed to be.

"We're having trouble finding our class," Piye said before Ahkmen could even think of how to reply.

Yafeu raised a single brow, scanning the both of them with an unimpressed expression. He raised his finger to point at a small door behind Osiris.

"That way."

"Thank you, sir," Piye said with a small bow, taking Ahkmen's hand and rushing him out the door.

While the temple of Osiris held much land, and much of it was occupied by caretakers both priestly and humble, who worked to please Osiris, commoners and non-priests were generally not allowed. Gardens bloomed around the sacred lake, lovingly tended to fit the needs of the temple.

As Ahkmen and Piye walked down the long, open hallway, which on the left side held the many rooms of those working in the temple, and on the right displayed the wealth of the courtyard, the Prince wondered upon the subject of the temple. Very few people were allowed inside––hence his apprehension upon being caught––but considering the amount of people it took to care for the temple, it seemed to him a little unfair that others couldn't come to bow at the statue's feet.

Perhaps the priests, and his father, did not want commoners coming to Osiris with petty issues.

"You handled that quite well," Ahkmen said as he noted the arch to class approaching.

"I fucking hate priests," they seethed, but the expression gave way for a smile in an instant when they both entered the room.

Yafeu might've been old, but the priests that retired into teachers were much older. Last year, Ahkmen's teacher had been a much younger scribe, but this year his class of four would be taught by a priest who had spent his better years tending to Sobek's temple, and consequently had lots of experience with crocodiles. That was about the only interesting thing about the man, except for the fact that his name was Setet, which according to Ahk’s classmate meant 'Daughter of Set'.

A very strange name indeed. Ahkmen let the thought of it occupy his thoughts for a minute or two, but grew quickly bored of the subject, and eventually his mind wandered back to the events of the morning. If Setet had the gall to be this uninteresting, Ahkmen could be allowed time to think and gather himself.

Last night, he thought, chewing on his bottom lip. What had happened?

The details were fuzzy in his head––more a mess of mangled half-memories soaked in beer and wine. According to Piye, who now sat cross-legged on the carpet beside him, something had happened with his friend Panya that made both of them drink a lot of beer. A drinking contest, maybe––Ahkmen was, at times, too prideful for his own good.

Panya couldn't really be considered a friend. She was rarely ever kind to him, and he treated her in much the same light. Despite her crude behavior, she was quite beautiful, and attended the same prestigious school as he did––only in a different class.

What is he talking about? he thought to himself blearily, trying to focus back in on the man in front of him talking.

Then there was the question of you––the pretty little potionmaker––and with that thought implanted in his mind, he left the classroom in every way imaginable except physical.

Ahkmen very rarely met anyone from other countries that weren't royal, so the sudden presence of you was something he could think about for a good, long while as he waited out the school day. He thoroughly enjoyed any research into the cultures and activities of citizens in countries his own and not his own.

You came up about to his shoulder––which meant you were only as tall as Piye's elbow––and your skin was of a darker, more vibrantly red color than those of the Egyptians he usually related himself to. The lighting in your tent had been subpar, making it hard for him to recall what color that dot on your forehead had been. All he could remember was that it existed.

The hangover remedy you had concocted had, without Ahkmen entirely noticing, taken away his headache and minimized his sensitivity to light and sound, which convinced the Prince that you had some sort of schooling behind you. Maybe you weren't as poorly as you looked––all respect to you, of course––and, maybe, you were someone of similar noble standing.

He wasn't sure which theory he liked more.

Unfortunately, he couldn't remember your name, and now that class had started he would have to wait until lunch to ask Piye.

When midday finally did come around, he, Piye, and the other two students in his class were excused to the garden. In the center of the courtyard, the High Priest readied himself for the midday ceremony by bathing in the sacred lake placed there by hand. Clerks and jewellers flitted about from place to place, carrying the finished products of beautiful works that would never see the light of day beyond Osiris' temple. Similarly, weavers and barbers tended to Yafeu as he bathed in preparation.

"What was that eastern brewer's name again?" Ahkmen asked, tugging on Piye's skirt as he attempted to catch up with their long strides.

"The one from the alley? Yogi," they said with a curious tilt of their head. "Why?"

"Oh, I've been thinking about it all morning. I couldn't remember but I know you called them by name."

"Right. Hungry?" Piye asked, stopping before the door to the kitchens.

"I want to find Panya first," Ahk said as he scanned the courtyard.

"Well I want to eat. If you want to try and wade through that crowd for a woman who hates you, go ahead," Piye said, waving him off before promptly slamming the door behind them as they left.

"... right," Ahkmen muttered to himself under his breath.

There were far too many people going about the temple that, standing from his position, it was impossible to see everyone. One thing he did know about Panya, though; she always brought her own food and always sat alone.

Ten minutes later Ahkmen found himself yelling up into a tree that Panya had managed to scale.

"Get lost, goldie!" She yelled from above, picking one of the dates and lobbing it at his head. He dodged, eyes darting down at the ground, where the date had made a dent in the dirt.

"Come on, I just have a question!" He said, squinting from the sun shining directly above him.

"The answer's no. Now go away! You're going to attract one of the priests with all that yelling," she said, cocking her chin into the sky.

"Oh, fuck you," he muttered as he at last looked down, his neck sore from craning it so long. So much for figuring out last night.

As he made his way back to the kitchens, he crossed the middle of the courtyard and spied through the pillars of stone the open door of the inner temple. Inside grew an ethereal blue light, surrounding the figures of stone, warped with smoke as Yafeu knelt to his knees before Osiris. His mouth moved in constant prayer, but Ahkmen could not hear from his distance. He could only watch.

Until one of the clerks shut the door.

He frowned, but headed on his way, soon sliding in next to his friend, Piye. They had taken a seat on one of the many carpets set out on the floor, the open roof allowing sunlight to flood the otherwise dark room. All that protected the students and chefs from the heat of the sun, as well as the heat of the ovens, was the thin tarps covering the majority of the ceiling, though not entirely. There was still room for a couple rays of unbroken sun.

"Find her?" Piye asked through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, but she wouldn't talk to me," Ahk said, irritant in his movements as he began to eat his own lunch.

"Sounds like her."

By the end of school, the sun was already cresting the horizon of low mountains, leading his shadow to tall heights as he walked with Piye, their backs to the sun. Inside the courtyard of the temple, servants and workers planted seeds in the black mud gathered from the Nile's banks. Outside it, however, bustled the busy life of Memphis markets that always received the most amount of patrons after school and work was finished for the day.

Wading through the crowd had always been more of an art than anything, though Ahkmen couldn't practice that art very well with Piye beside him. They stuck out horribly, too tall to duck beneath the swaying barrels and baskets, and unable to pass people by without seeming rude.

"Oh shit!" Ahkmen exclaimed in a moment of remembrance, raising his hand to stop Piye. "I remember why Panya came over."

"Really?" They pulled both of them to the side, pressed against a restaurant wall. "What was it?"

"Drinking contest. Remember last Friday? We had that bet and then I lost, and I had to give her one of my necklaces, but I couldn't part with any of mine, so I just stole my mother's. Then my mother started asking questions, and... oh fuck. Mother's going to kill me," Ahk said with wide eyes, raising his hands to cover his mouth.

"I would love to help you out with this problem, but she's really not going to do anything, and I need to help my father collect ingredients from the market. Is that alright?"

"Yes, I... I understand. Any advice though?"

"Go find Yogi. They might be able to help. See you," they said as they turned and left, all but their shoulders and head disappearing in the crowd.

Ahkmen had little on his persons except the clothes he wore, and the bands he had on his arms marked him as royal. They could not be sold, bartered, or traded in any way, as any non-royal found wearing them was jailed or enslaved. He could not give them to Panya in exchange. Panya might've been annoying, but she didn't deserve something like that.

Since that was the only idea he had, he found himself sneaking back towards Osiris' temple, and going through the streets leading to it in hopes of finding that alleyway once more. It was less of an alley and more of a space between two close buildings, but that distinction easily led him back to climbing over boxes of storage.

In the warm blush of evening, it was hard to make out the different alleys leading to this singular space between buildings, where nothing had been built except that tent of yours. It appeared as though you had blocked it off purposely––made your home secret for a reason.

Questions swarmed his head as he ducked beneath the flap of your home, watching his head for anything hanging too low. He raised his hand, searching for a hard surface––something to rapp his knuckles on, as Piye had.

"Uh... Yoshi?"

"My name is not that. Do not call me that," you said, walking out from behind what Ahkmen thought was a wall. He nearly jumped at your sudden appearance.

"Sorry. I was, um, here this morning, with my friend Piye? They said you might be able to help me," he said in a rambling manner, playing with his fingers.

"What help you need?"

"I had a bet with this girl from my school, and she ended up with my mother's necklace, and I need that necklace. My mother was asking me about it earlier, so I know she's noticed."

"Hmm..." you glanced to the side, placing your hands on your hips. "What was.. your bet on?"

"Drinking contest."

"Ah," you said with a sudden smile. "No problem. You find your girl, bring her here. I will give her my beer."

"You brew beer?" Ahkmen asked incredulously, his eyes widening. Beer-making was something generally reserved for adults.

"I do many things. Do not worry. She will not die," you said, shaking your head as though that would assure him.

"Why would she die?!" Ahkmen asked with even larger eyes.

"I just tell you she will not die! Now go grab her. I will be here with your cups. Tell her you want to do it again," you said, pushing him out the door. He was not at all swayed by your efforts, but allowed you to move him anyway, and soon he stood outside in an evening where the sun had set too fast.

A chill ran over his skin, at which point he acutely missed the warmth of your tent. How you kept it so comfortable, as well as clean in there was a mystery, but that was not at the forefront of his thoughts. Instead he tried to recall where Panya might be––perhaps at school, perhaps at home, or maybe with her friend. She only had one.

After clambering back over the wall of boxes and crates, he snuck back into the courtyard of the temple, keeping a careful eye on any movement he saw. The task proved hard after about five seconds of being in there, as the next ceremony was soon approaching. The Priests would put Osiris to rest for the night.

In several of the rooms he passed, he found other children of noble bearings discussing quietly with the older priests and clerks, who passed the time of their elderly years raising the next generation. He checked each door, but in the end he found Panya on the edge of one of the creeks that ran like veins with the lifeblood of the Nile.

"Can we talk now?" He asked, taking great enjoyment in her surprise as she turned.

"I'd prefer we didn't," she said, turning back to look at the river.

"If I recall correctly," which he did not, "I won last night's contest, right? That puts us at a tie."

"You big liar," said Panya, who also did not recall the events of last night. "I quite distinctly remember rubbing your face in my win."

"Come now, all I'm offering is one more drinking contest. You get to get drunk for free. If you win, I... I'll owe you one favor. One thing you ask of me, I'll do, no questions asked. If I win, I get that necklace back."

"You're vain sometimes, you know that?" She said in a quieter voice as he stood to face her, watching her fingers play with the massive emerald that now dangled from her shoulders.

"So are you."

She raised an unimpressed brow, scanning the Prince before she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Very well. Is Piye going to be overlooking it again?"

"No, no," Ahk said with a dismissive hand, dropping his other to grab Panya's hand and direct her along. "They're busy tonight. I've got someone else on board."

It took a little convincing to get the noble girl to climb up and over the boxes for a secret part of the city, but he eventually won her over and directed her inside your tent. She was about your height––maybe a little taller––and had no problems standing in your low-roof home. Ahkmen on the other hand took a seat as soon as he could.

You introduced yourself with a small bow, bringing forward a low table with a long strip of embroidered cloth, upon which you placed four small cups built of what appeared to be clay. All of this you did in a smooth, practiced swoop that lasted only a moment before Ahkmen was forced to face Panya once more.

Ahkmen might've been a desperate man––in more than one sense of the word––but he would not resort to cheating by stealing. Not to good people. Thus he would keep his word concerning the prizes of the competition, no matter how certain he was that he would fail.

He was a prince, accustomed to constant fine wines and thick beer that smelled strongly of alcohol. A sipper in small amounts.

Panya was not. She had quite a lot of money like his family, but she was far more connected with the world of other teenagers than Ahkmen was.

"I like you to state what you will win if you... win," you said, standing beside the table Ahk and Panya sat at. "That way, it is honest."

"If Panya wins, she can tell me to do one thing that I must do without question. If I win, I get that necklace back," Ahk said as he pointed to each of the things he referred to.

"Okay. Let us begin!"

Four cups. Two on either side of the centerpiece of the table. Ahkmen reached forward at the same time as Panya, grabbing the cups from the right and downing both of them quick as he could. The less he thought about it, the better. Panya soon copied him, finishing much faster than he had, and slamming the cups down so hard he nearly jumped.

"Good start," you said with a nod. "Feel good?"

"I feel about myself," Ahk offered.

"Then you have not drinking enough." You brought out another four cups in a flash. "Try not to let any of it fall!"

It burned his throat––physically burnt it from the alcohol level. No beer or wine had ever done that before, and he nearly spit it out, but managed to swallow it and hide his teary eyes at the same time. He then watched Panya carefully for any reaction, and noted the same surprise in her expression.

"Is a bit stronger. That is how my game works. By your six rounds, it only takes a cup to get a little," you grinned and rolled your eyes in two different directions. Ahk raised his brows, unable to look away, but said nothing.

"God damn," Panya said after downing the second cup of her's on the table. "Where do you get this stuff?"

"I make it. It is levels of dizziness."

"Do you mean drunkenness?" Ahkmen asked, looking apprehensively down into his second cup.

"Whatever. It is family's secret. I sell it to markets, get a good price, people like becoming drunk," you said with a shrug, taking the old cups, and refilling them with yet another mixture.

"Come now, Ahk," Panya chuckled from across the table. "Gotta finish that second cup if you're gonna challenge me to this kind of a competition."

Ahkmen glared at her for a moment before raising his cup to his lips, knocking it back as he attempted to once again ignore every sensation happening in his throat.

"Good boy," you said, taking his cup and setting it on the shelf behind you.

Four more cups were then placed on the table, and the drinking continued.

By the fifth round, he was already inebriated, his tongue soaked in the numbing powers of this drink you had concocted. There was a part of his not-all-there brain that thought you had taken this drink from the underworld; some sort of backwards world where the Nile flowed with pure alcohol.

If you were telling the truth, and he quite well trusted your word this far, he could be dizzyingly intoxicated with your next drink. He barely had the state of mind to look at Panya, much less decode her own level of drunkenness. That left him blind to the status of his likelihood of winning. And yet, when the next cup was set down in front of him, he gulped it like a sober brewer. Panya did the same.

"Feeling a little of it now?" You asked with a grin.

"Some... something dike lat," he mumbled, his mouth smushed against the hand he supported his head on.

"Do you one finish?"

"... what?" Panya asked, her brow furrowed as she stared intensely at you.

"Do one of you give up?" You tried.

"Hell no," Panya said with an adamant shake of her head. "Get me another!"

"Me too!" Ahk said, raising his hand high as his head fell to the table, knocking against it with a loud thunk. He hissed, curling back on himself with little grace.

Panya snorted, leading into a long laugh as she cherished the look of drunken disdain painted over the Prince's face. You said nothing, but went to fulfill their requests, returning with the same drink as the last one.

"This my strongest drink. What you had before. It is good for you!"

"It may be good for me, but I think my friend over there is going to pass out," Panya said, grabbing you by your collar and forcing you to lean down so she could talk closer to your ear. You giggled.

"You have big strength," you said, stepping away as she downed yet another drink.

"Thank you, uh.. what's... your name?"

"... it is Yogi."

"Well then, Yogi. Another!"

If you had some sort of secret plan to get him to win, he was desperate to see it. This drink of yours had only seemed to be detrimental to him, not to Panya, and anxiousness stewed as he glanced into his cup. She was already ahead of him––to equalize the cards, he had to drink another cup, just to be equal.

You reentered the room as he knocked it back, carrying two more cups. When he set his cup down, you placed the others in front of him, and grabbed the empty one to clean it.

Ahkmen looked up, and through the haze of his thoughts, he might've seen you wink at him with a sly smile. Maybe. It was also possible you had just blinked and his eyes were being slow.

He grabbed his cup, and before he could think about it he chugged it. In a horrifying moment of clarity, he recognized the drink he'd had that morning––some sort of hangover cure that felt like smooth, squishy mud in his mouth. You returned a minute or two later, more drinks in hand. By then your mixture took effect, and much of his wooziness faded away, bringing him back to the land of sobriety before being offered his next cup.

It was all he needed.

Panya went on for a good long while, but without the special concoction she lost by the tenth round. During that time, Ahkmen had plenty enough beer, and had returned to the spinning thoughts of his alcohol-fueled brain, now focused on the one who had helped him so readily––you.

"What are – are you gonna do with... her?" Ahkmen asked through a half-stuffed nose, gesturing weakly to Panya, who had passed out in the corner only moments earlier.

"Do you know her parents?"

"... sort of," he answered vaguely. He definitely knew about them. Her father was Yafeu, and though he did not like Ahkmen, Ahkmen had a fair amount of information about him.

"Will they... scared, about her going.. missing?" You said, slowly piecing together a sentence you had clearly never said in Egyptian.

"You mean does she have to be home tonight?"

You nodded.

"She'll be fine. Her father will... worry, a little, but she can say she was sleeping in a friend's house. They won't.. uh... worry," he said in a mumble, laying his head to rest on your table.

"Then we put her to sleep. Let her rest for a while," you said, bowing your head as you collected the rest of the cups, disappearing behind yet another wall.

He tapped his fingers against the wood, keeping them close to his eyes so as to see his hand better. A long sigh left him.

"Will you go home? Or stay?" You asked upon your return.

"I – I have a lot of answers for you," he said, suddenly quite vindictive and stern as he pointed to you with a shaky finger. "And I want you.. to question..."

He trailed off as he realized his mistake. Embarrassment was clear on his face as he shriveled into himself, but you just giggled, sitting down across from him with a large bag in your lap.

"What is your questions?"

"What's your name? Your full name. You don't... seem happy when.. people say Yogi," he said, resting the majority of his weight on the pillows built up against one of the rare solid walls.

"Well, I come from a long travel. My name is not something many know here," you said with a shrug, digging your hands into the bag and rooting around it. "It is Yogasundari."

"Y.. yogetsury?" He tried on his clumsy tongue.

"Yogasundari. It is okay you can not say it. It is why most call me Yogi."

"So – where do you come from then? If y-you come from," he pushed down a hiccup, "from far away?"

"The east. My city was named Harappa. We live in a beautiful river, like you," you said, smiling a soft, thoughtful smile as you recalled images of your past. "Our city was great. Had all things. But my family is poor and it is easy to live here. We can make our own great.. um..."

"Riches?"

"Yes! Gold, and – and silk, you have, but we change the shape of iron," you said, your grin spreading into excitement. "We have good drinks. You want them here, so we come here, and we live much better than we live in Harappa."

"So you're... here with your family?" He asked in genuine curiosity, looking up at you from his collapsed position on the floor.

Your expression fell away, and an anxiousness overtook your demeanor.

"I was," you said, then frowned with spiteful eyes. "Those kings of yours kill my family, sell them. I love this, the river, but your kings are unjust. They take my parents and I never saw them again."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It is okay. It is not your fault. I have a good home and I know how to stay away from soldiers. They go everywhere in this city. Not like my home. So that is why I am here," you said, gesturing to the patterned cloths that made up your ceiling.

"And it's just you here?"

"There is the cat," you said, looking back down to his chest, where unbeknownst to him, a thin, hairless cat had made a bed.

"Oh," he whispered softly, taken aback.

The purring was nice––actually, most of the cat's presence was nice, except when he went to pet it, and it raised its' head. At that point he saw the gaping holes where eyes were supposed to be, where they probably once were, and he just about jumped out of his skin, and would have if its' claws weren't kneading at his stomach.

"What the fuck," he whispered in a tense breath.

"She is good. Very kind. You do not worry."

"Where'd you find her?" He asked, eyes darting between you and the cat.

"On the street," you said, nodding. "She comes in for eating at some times."

"... delightful."

"What of you?" You asked. "What are you from?"

"I..." he paused, recalling your contempt for the royal family, and then the much earlier occurrence of Piye using a cover name. "... my father's a priest at Osiris' temple. Not the High one, but.. one of them. That's why I go to school there, and that's how I met Panya."

"Are you good friends?"

"Not really," he chuckled. "We have our fights but I respect her, most of the time."

"More with Piye, then?"

"Mm... yeah. How'd you meet them?"

"You have to ask them. They came in my home one day and asked for my brew."

"Which one?"

"The good one," you said with a wink that had Ahkmen snorting. "I have forgot to ask your name. Your friends name you two things."

What had Piye called him that morning? Panya had used Ahk, that he knew definitively.

"Ak'anpu," he answered after a moment's thoughts.

"It is a nice name," you said, bringing your lips to a glass contraption. With one flame on the other end, you breathed in deeply, exhaling thick clouds of smoke that easily outweighed the smoke of incense already flooding the ceiling.

"What is that?" Ahk asked with a groan as he brought himself to sit up, forcing your cat to jump off his middle.

"Shemet. I get it at the markets, by the river. It is good to sleep and calm down. Want to try?" You offered the tool to him.

"Sure," he said, though he was fairly certain he'd already had this before, and that you were simply pronouncing the name strangely.

From the taste alone he recognized it as something he and Piye had used extensively at some points. It didn't pair well with beer, which he knew from experience, so he took only one more puff before handing it back to you with a quiet 'thank you'.

"I must get home to my father, he's –" he tried to stand, falling back down when he tripped over his own feet. "He's gonna want to see me in the morning."

"You are a little... drunk to be seeing a father yet," you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

"That you are most certainly 'bight'," he said as he, again, attempted to stand.

When he nearly caught his head in one of your hanging scarves, you jumped to your feet, grabbing his arm and pulling his whole body back before he ran into it. He stumbled backwards, spinning around just in time to catch himself on the wall with you in front of him.

"Oh..." he stuttered, a warmer blush filling his head as he looked down at you. "I'm.. sorry."

But you just laughed, much harder than the times you had before, till a dark flush built in your creased cheeks, stark against your bright eyes.

"You are funny. It is alright," you said, patting his bare chest. "I don't think I trust you will get home safe."

"Is this because I'm drunk?" He asked in a teasing tone, leaning in closer with his own cocky smile. For a moment he worried your hand on his chest would feel the thundering of his heartbeat.

"It is because you are stupid," you said, ducking out from his grip and pulling the necklace from Panya's neck, handing it to him.

You took his hand in yours, carefully leading him out of your home without wrecking any of it. The ascent over the crates was a little more clumsy than usual, but in the end you both landed safe back in the regular streets of Memphis, the temple of Osiris to your right and the palace to your left.

"Which way is your home?" You asked, looking up at him after you confirmed it to be a vacant street.

"Easy there," he said as he raised his hands defensively. "I'm – can't go home this.. like this. I'm gonna go down to the Nile, and... I'm going to wash up."

"They say not to go by yourself," you said, following him when he turned to the right. "Dangerous animals."

"More guidelines than rules, really," he said as he shambled along. "And I have you now, d–don't I?"

"If fish eat your ass, I am not saving you," you said with a certainty.

Ahkmen spluttered into a laugh.

"What?" You asked, your own smile growing as you watched him, confused.

"Don't – don't ever say that again. Don't talk about anything eating ass," he said through a massive grin.

Once the two of you reached the river, which didn't take long at all, Ahkmen stripped himself of his garments, setting aside his jewelry in a neat row on the banks. His mother's necklace he set on his clothes, making sure not to dirty it in any way.

"It is funny how you Egyptians do this," you said, perching on one of the boulders present.

"Do what?" He asked, looking over his bare shoulder. Your eyes darted up from staring at something lower.

"Wash in the river."

"Not everyone does," he said, kneeling in the water. "A lot have small pools in their homes. Mostly the rich, I guess. Everyone else just bathes here."

"Maybe I am just... not knowing much about being without many clothes," you attempted to translate, the words clearly spinning in your head. You looked to him to see if he understood you.

"That I can see," he said, bringing the water over his legs and chest, trailing up to his face. "You've got quite a style. Very.. colorful. It looks expensive."

"I make my own clothes," you said with a small, but proud smile.

"You're a seamster?"

"I am many things."

"So I've seen," he chuckled. "How do you know so many things?"

"I had to learn. I had to teach me, from what I could see my family doing," you said, your feet wagging back and forth from the boulder's height. "I get not many people who.. who buy. But I have many things. I think it helps."

"Impressive," he said softly as he returned to washing himself.

By dunking his whole head into the cool water, he hoped to return more of his senses to himself, and with it his more prolific words. He didn't need drunken sentences messing up your understanding of him further. Besides, it was hard enough on its' own to try and piece together your own sentences that were jargled and brambled words of what you'd picked up in Memphis.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked after having fidgeted for several minutes, now letting your head hang upside-down off the rock.

"I suppose so," he said, rising to his feet. "I think I can probably bathe more once I get home. And if not, the morning will come, and I can wash then."

As spiritual an experience as it was to bathe in the lifeblood of Egypt, Ahkmen couldn't deny he missed the lavender soaps and gentle oils massaged and soaked into the skin.

He stumbled his way back to shore, slipping easily on the slick mud beneath him, making up the fertile silt of the Nile. You laughed from your vantage point, knocking your head back with the loudest belt of a laugh he'd ever heard. It was made especially amusing by the fact that such noise could come from someone so small. By the third time he slipped, though, you spared a little pity and climbed down from your tower to help him.

"You are funny," you said with the brightest grin he'd seen, offering him your hand with a long reach in an attempt to keep your shoes clean. Unlike Ahk's, they were made of a sort of fabric.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his legs shaky from his laughter and yours. "This doesn't usually happen."

He reached forward, setting his hand into yours, and allowing you to direct him forward. To your unfortunate surprise––though, still, very amused surprise––his weight ended up pulling both of you down, slipping into the shallow reaches of the river.

"Oh Gods," he said as he resurfaced. "I am so sorry, I -"

Your clothes, and you, were then soaked in both water and mud that easily stained to the palms of your hands as you hauled your heavy clothes out of the river. Wide eyes looked to him, your mouth open in surprise. He cringed backwards, a horribly apologetic look on his face as he watched you stand, shaking your body to test your new weight.

Glancing around your legs, midsection, and arms, you found mud dug into your elbows, your knees, around your hips, and all across your shoulders.

You laughed. Relief flooded him upon the sight of your smile, covering your mouth with a dirty hand.

"Don't we look like a dream?" You giggled.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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seokustic · 4 years ago

Text

➝ three months into working for min&kim, coming across the forged company audit is the last thing you’d want in your plate. and min yoongi isn’t convinced that you’d keep your mouth shut.

➝ yandere!ceo!yoongi x secretary!reader

➝ 2 242 words

➝ warnings: dub-con, blackmail, coercion, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome

➝ author’s note: read the warnings. don’t proceed if those elements make you uncomfortable.

―

“please, i won’t tell anyone,” you can taste the fear on your tongue as you gaze into yoongi’s unbending eyes.

“i understand i’m not in any position to make demands but please let me go home and i’ll forget this ever happened,” words of desperation and submission leaves your lips faster than the ‘sorry’s you owe every possible colleague that works under you.

“self-aware. i like that,” he husks, tossing the sleek black blazer of his onto the couch as he begins to undo the buttons of the cuffs around his wrists, “no wonder namjoon’s eager to keep you to himself.”

at the mention of that name, a bleached blonde haired man with the kindest dimpled smile flashes at the back of your mind. you remember shooting up from your seat and bowing as he passed by you whilst words of “have a good evening, mr. kim,” leaves your pretty wine red coated lips.

‘will i be able to meet him again?’

the thought chills you to your bones.

‘why wouldn’t i meet namjoon again?’ you internally laugh. if it was an audible one, it would have sounded pathetic yet hopeful.

to think you’re worrying about the future when your present is shriveled with uncertainty.

you watch as the man he calls his brother and partner amble towards you with leisure but dominating steps. like a hunter sizing up his prey.

if yoongi was black leopard, you’d be a white little bunny who’s trapped between the recliner and the glass desk, unable to move even though you’d spot him in your line of sight.

“i-is it money you want?” the words slip past your lips before you can even register them.

when you’re mentally hitting yourself for asking the co-owner of the firm you’re working at if he wants what little savings you have in your account, yoongi is already chuckling. it sounds melodic for someone who looks like he’s about to eat you alive.

“you and i both know i’ve got more money on my wrist than you do in your account.” he stops in front of you, feet wedged between your heeled ones.

as if on cue, the rolex on his wrist glints. as if mocking you as he pulls open the top most drawer, pulling out a miniature tripod with a phone readily attached to it. all you can do is continue to watch as he unlocks the screen.

the sound of you sucking in a sharp breath is the only thing that fills the silence when you see yourself reflected in the square frame. the time played over your wide-eyed gaze begins at 00:00:01.

“oh, that? don’t mind that. i like to look back at the time we’re about to spend together and... reminisce.” he wears a smirk on his face and pushes the hem of your dress up with his hand.

yet the billion dollar smirk you’d be dying to see and would fawn over with krystal from afar now makes your stomach knot with disgust. your heart’s palpitating but the sweat trickling down the side of your face is cold.

“please,” your head shakes, as if that little gesture could touch his heart and make him stop what he’s doing.

the metallic sound of his belt clicking as he undoes it drums it your ears, “get on the desk, sweetheart.”

when silence and your disbelieving stare is all he gets as a response, yoongi’s voice rises higher than the usual smooth, husked tone you’re used as he passed you and bade you good morning these past three months since you started working and min&kim.

“fucking do it!”

you scamper to hoist yourself over the flat surface of the table. both your ass and palms feel ice cold against the glass material.

“spread your legs.”

the tip of your heels teeter on the edge of the desk as you force your legs apart, gaze thrown to the pen holder on the opposite side of where the camera phone is set to capture every angle of your disgraceful position.

a whimper escapes your mouth when you feel something touch you through your panties.

“i must say, i didn’t peg you for a lace girl, ___.” gone is the rage in his voice once you did what he asked and in its place, a deep, appreciative purr. as if it’s supposed to be a compliment.

“won’t you even look at me?” he sounds almost devastated, as if your silence and refusal physically hurts him.

“look at me!” he roars a second later, giving you no time to ponder nor prepare yourself for it.

you meet his gaze with furrowed brows and bitten lip, trying hard not to show how much they’re trembling.

“pretty,” he holds you by your jaw, turning your face to the left and then right, as if conducting some kind of observation, “if only i didn’t take rose as my secretary... we would’ve had so much fun, you and i.”

“i can ask to be transferred here! i’ll keep your secret. just please... don’t do this.” gaze boring into his with sheer disgust while you beg with desperation while the cold nips on your exposed legs.

at your words, his hand seems to stop just millimeters from your clit. as if he’s truly considering the offer. the heart that blooms with hope gets crushed in that same instant as a smile stretches across his face.

“you really think you’re in a position to be negotiating?”

nimble fingers pulls your panties to the side before you feel his digit teases you, “sweetheart, you’re dripping wet.”

as if only realizing the juices leaking down your ass and the full view he has, your legs start to close, only to be tightly gripped by his free hand. you wince. that’s going to leave a bruise.

but before you can think of what excuses you’d use to wear skirts longer than your usual mid-thigh ones, the sound of the zipper grazing as it gets pulled down - brushes your eardrums.

“no, please! i promise i’ll do anything! everything you want! just please! don’t!” s series of pleas pour out of your lips like a broken tap. you don’t realize you’re crying until yoongi’s tall, lean figure becomes blurred from the tears.

“shhh,” he coos, sweet as honey but pushes himself in to the hilt.

the sigh the leaves yoongi’s lips makes your stomach twist.

‘how can he enjoy this?’

your palms clasp over your face and eyes as tears wet your skin. your back is cold as you lose all energy to hold yourself up. your body shifts upwards with every thrust.

but it’s the way he slides right into you that burns you with self-loathe. the way the discomfort you felt in the beginning gradually morphs into flames of wonton as you taste blood in your mouth, biting on your lower lip as hard as you can to not make a sound.

because you’re not sure if it’s a plea for him to stop or a plea for him to fuck you harder that will come out.

and you silently sniffle as yoongi turns you on your side, bent over to hold your body that’s wrecked with sobs and pleasure. the groans that brush your ear sickens you to your stomach but makes you clench around him harder as you near your climax.

“don’t be shy, moan for me, sweetheart,” he says grunts, tugging on your wrist as if trying to get you to stop covering your face.

as if he wants to see you break. see the tears cascading down your cheeks. see the shamelessly pleasured face you’re making as your heart beat to the staccato of his thrusts.

“stop...” you whimper, “stop, please, don’t- stop- ah! oh!”

“what’s that? don’t stop?” he laughs, “i’m not wearing a condom though. you sure you want me to but a baby inside you?”

“fuck, just like that. yeah- yoongi-ah right there- oh!”

you should’ve kept your mouth shut. because once the moans pour out of your lips like an open floodgate, there’s no stopping the salacious sounds from filling the room.

you don’t even realize yoongi pushed you to lay on your back again. don’t even realize how your legs clench around his waist whilst your ankles lock together on his lower back as he fucks you raw like he’s never fucked a woman in a long time.

you don’t even realize your lipstick smudging that area on his shoulder as you bite into his flesh, unable to take the surge of ecstasy coursing through your veins before a scream scratches your throat, your back arching as you see stars behind your eyes.

the warmth of his cum spreads through your lower belly as you lay limply on the desk, muscles still twitching from the sparks of electricity of your after orgasm. your legs dangle off the edge of the desk, still parted and in full view of the cum that pours out of you and onto the carpeted floor.

it takes you what feels like hours to push yourself up. gather your broken pieces, put your panties back on and pat down your skirt, feeling the warm, sticky cum drip down your legs and soils your skirt.

the heat of yoongi’s gaze digs into your pores. even when you’re all dressed up like the way you first walked in and saw the open email of the files of the unaudited expenditure of the firm’s income and the forged one. underneath the email, signed victoria song, the head accountant.

“come on, i’ll drop you home.” he says, the blazer he tossed now draped over his arm.

it’s as if he didn’t just smirk as he rewatched the first few seconds of the video. the sound of your desperate pleading commanding the silence while you laid like a lifeless corpse on the desk, trying to make sense of what just happened.

he’s acting as if nothing happened.

“i’ll take catch a cab,” you send your thanks to the gods for venom in your voice and the glare in your gaze.

“i said,” his husks, ever so gently with a threat that he will have no problems executing, “i’ll take you home.”

the whole ride is silent save for the sound of your sniffles yoongi pretends not to hear.

how gentleman-ly of him.

when the car rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building, you meet his gaze with round, terrified eyes. heart palpitating uncontrollably as he smiles like he’s dropping off his girlfriend after a date.

“how do you know where i live?”

you were too busy wiping away stray tears and gazing out the window to worry about giving him directions.

supposed he doesn’t need it after all.

yoongi doesn’t answer. he dodges it as smoothly as he dives in for a kiss. you recoil, pushing yourself up against the door and as far away from him before realization hits you like a pang of ice cold water in winter.

the glint in yoongi’s eyes is telling enough that he isn’t pleased with the trick you just pulled.

even if it was no trick at all. even if you truly only want to leave.

but there’s a video of you in a phone stored inside his desk 20 minutes from here. and you’d be a fool to think he didn’t airdrop it to his personal phone when he was rewatching the video after that.

who knows how long it’ll take for it to hit the internet if you so much as piss him off more than you do now.

the answer is a no brainer.

in a matter of seconds, min yoongi could ruin your life and rebrand you as a licentious woman who sleeps her way to the top.

those pleas for him to stop?

easily overridden by the way you clung onto him like you don’t want to let go.

“sorry, i was just... surprised,” you blink back the tears, lips curling into one of your professional smiles, heart thumping at the way his expression lightens into a pleased one at your own change of expression.

with a trembling hand, you touch his cheek. it feels soft under your fingertip. you wonder how it’ll look if you’d graze it with your fingernails.

your lips brush his and your stomach knots in discomfort. he deepens the kiss, pulling you by your hair, tongue slipping past your lips, tasting the fear that lingers like an unspoken truth on your tongue.

but it’s the way your arms involuntarily wrap around yoongi’s shoulders, kissing him back without even a word of command - that’s what makes you want to hurl your insides out.

it’s the moan that slips past your lips that makes you push him away. eyes wide. you look at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“i-i’ll see you tomorrow.” it’s almost as if waiting for his reaction has become an instinct to you too fast and too soon.

“yeah, see you tomorrow,” when yoongi reaches out his hand and wipes away the corner of your mouth that might’ve been lipstick that got smudged from the kiss, you grope for the door handle.

and you slip out of the car and walk to the entrance of your apartment building, not looking up even when you hear the amicable “good evening, miss ___, working late, are we?” from the security.

you keep walking until you’re inside the elevator.

and only then do you let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding. then the sob wrecks through your cold body.

funny how being trapped inside a metal box gives you more security than any human could provide.

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere smut #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi fic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts x you #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

His eyes had seen the words written in neat lettering time and time again, yet he still read it again, trying to calm himself down.

They were trying to take you away.

Your parents were basically not as financially stable as you thought, basically having the audacity to ask you for money.

He was trying not to snap.

He'd known that your mother was a whore, already trying to safe your situation by digging up information he'd rather delete from his mind, forever scarred with the blasphemic image of her showing herself off to strangers on the web like a cheap commercial before a video starts, desperation being an understatement to describe her actions. Or maybe she did it only for the thrill.

She was a vile and distusting woman after all.

It was quite confusing to think of her as the woman who'd been responsible for bringing you into this world. He had a hard time believing it as he thought about your gentle and sweet nature, pure and caring while this sorry excuse of a human being did everything to play with karma it seemed.

Well, maybe he'd change his name for a day and play that role for her.

After all, she was an impatient woman he'd noticed from her constant reminding to buy obscene photos and short videos of her truly underwhelming body for an amount of money he'd rather spend on a coffee and a small breakfast to share with you, if he was being honest.

Why someone would genuinely pay for content like that was beyond him.

"I dont.. understand-" The female voice quivered on the other side of the line, making the corners of his lips turn upwards a bit as he listened to it, gaining some sort of satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten under her skin.

"Oh but I think you do." He said, voice smooth like velvet as he watched her pace back and forth in front of her admittedly bad webcam of her opened laptop. Living off of her husbands money couldn't be so luxurious he thought, if she couldn't even afford a decent laptop for the things she did whenever no one was looking.

It was truly making his saliva taste bitter merely thinking about it.

"If you think deleting your account will safe you, you're even more stupid than I initially thought." He mumbled into his phone as he saw her eyes widen, hands stalling as her gaze locked with the tiny device on top of her screen. She probably paled, yet the quality was too bad to tell for sure. "Everything has already been saved and will remain in my possession for as long as I have need of it." He stated, and clicked his tongue as she seemed to think of something to get herself out of it. "And remember; calling the police or informing any other authority will only result in you having to admit to your crimes as well. And I believe that isn't truly what you want." She snapped, hitting her table as she watched the camera, unknowing how Jungkook didn't even pay attention anymore, knowing he'd finally caught her head inside his noose.

"How much do you want?" She gritted out, and he chuckled, before clearing his throat.

"Your mindset truly disgusts me." He said, before sighing. "I don't want your fucking money."

He sat down properly again as he looked at his screen again.

"But I want you to do something for me.."

"It's nice to know that she finally found someone who can look after her." Your father stated, smiling at Jungkook who sat next to you at the table,taking your hand in his as he mirrored the gesture, spotting the way your mother tensed up in the corner of his vision, making him chuckle a bit.

"No, really, I am happy I've found her." He said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit shyly, making you giggle at his antics. Initially, you'd been a little worried when your parents wanted to meet Jungkook, not even knowing how they got to know about your relationship- your mother, however, had cleared things up for you, explaining that he'd updated them on your condition when you were in hospital. Maybe she did care, after all. "Right, angel?" He said, and you nodded, smiling with a bit of redness on your cheeks.

Absolutely divine.

"Alright, let me clean this up, You guys can head to bed, its already late." Your father said as he stood up, everyone else following after, when you'd suddenly grabbed Jungkooks plate and empty glass, smiling. Out of the corner of his he could see your mother empty her glass greedily, making him smile even wider.

Greed was a sin to be punished, after all.

"I'll do that, don't worry." You smiled, and he cooed at the sight. You were so absolutely sweet, he was always astounded at it, even though he should be getting used to it by now. He'd never get used to you, however. He nodded, giving you a kiss to your cheek as your father called for your mother, who'd been about to leave the table.

"Can you show Jungkook here where the guest room is? Help him set the bed, will you." He spoke, warmth as fake as her eyelashes as she smiled tensely, nodding towards Jungkook as he followed, comfortable with leaving you and your father alone for the moment. He wasn't a threat at all.

Your mother however, was a different story.

If she'd thought he wouldn't pick up on her dark gazes and blunt lies she truly was brainless. But then again, considering what she did with her freetime, he wouldn't be surprised to find her entirely empty.

Opening the door of the guest room, your mother closed the door behind him, slowly walking towards his back which was turned towards her, hands running over his shoulderblades as he shuddered.

But not with pleasure.

"I bet a young boy like you has stamina, heh?" She said, trying to form a seducing tone with her voice, yet failed as his eyes continued to stare forward, cold as ever as he stood unmoving, even when she came even closer. "Why would you get yourself someone like her anyways? There's nothing about her.." She chatted away, before stopping. "Wha-" She breathed out as she felt something poke her hip.

She was dead inside already, so why was she still up and walking like a zombie?

"You truly are disgusting." He murmured, turning around to hold his hand against her throat, backing her up until she could feel the wooden door against her back, chin pushing itself upwards as she looked at him with wide eyes. "To imagine that your rotten womb gave birth to an angel like her.." He said, eyes still trained on hers as he pushed a bit more, feeling and hearing her struggle, before moving away from her, snapping the knife he'd in his other hand shut to put it back inside his pocket as he opened the drawers, searching for fresh sheets. "I advise you to not ever touch me again if you want to keep your skin intact. It's nauseating enough that I have to share the same roof with someone like you tonight." He said, as he finally found what he was looking for, not caring as she swallowed hard, leaving the room and him alone, but not before running into you.

"Oh, sorry, I.. Uh, Jungkookie?" You asked, peeking into the room as his entire demeanor made a full 180 in front of your mothers eyes, body language suddenly speaking a different dialect it seemed, as he smiled, walking up to you, and leading you inside the room, closing the door with a last warning look thrown at her.

"Please angel.." He hummed against your skin, as you shyly touched his skin, making him sigh in bliss. He'd showered after his encounter with your witch of a mother, yet he couldn't help but not feel clean enough- he needed your touch, your salvation, to finally feel good again, to exorcise the demonic memories of her gut wrenching hands on his back, or her obscene words towards him. He needed your purity to cleanse him again, to give him back his wings you'd granted him.

"They won't hear." He promised, but in reality he wanted them to, craving deep down inside his being to drench the walls in your heavenly sounds, to clean this room of her presence with the help of the pleasure he was giving you. He felt you give into him with ease, smile warm and happy as his fingers entered you, knowing that he could not nestle himself inside you without sacrificing safety. And getting you pregnant was far from his mind.

No, the only thing ever being inside you would be him, and no one else.

You breathed out in sweet euphoria as he worked you with his hand, before dipping down, taking the covers with him as his tongue got in contact with your pearl, mouth feasting on you like a starving man enjoying his first meal, humming in pleasure as your hand found its way into his hair, gently tugging, never hurting.

He highly doubted you could ever hurt a fly.

And you'd never have to, with Jungkook at your side ready to soak his hands in the blood of anyone you wanted to have killed in cold murder, all of it with a smile on his face. He was ready to flood the streets in his own guts just to make more room for your praise and affection inside of him, he'd do it all for you in a time shorter than his heart could ever beat.

Your sighs turned into mewls.

He pushed your legs apart gently, hands reminiscing in the feel of your skin underneath his palms as he put even more effort into his actions, making you squirm in pleasure as your back arched like a feline stretching itself after a well deserved rest as you came undone with his touch, mouth finally parting from you, crawling upwards to your face as he kissed you, uncaring of your own residue on his lips.

You loved him.

He suddenly let out a short moan as he felt your delicate hands touch his bulge, eyes questioning as you silently asked for his permission.

Who was he to deny you anything?

As you pulled him out of his underwear he sighed at the view, your entire body showing off how lost you were with the task you'd taken on, making him smile as he began to help you, placing your hands around him in a proper way and showing you how to please him.

You learned quick.

Slowly growing more confident, you started to grip him with a bit more confidence, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you suddenly dipped down, making his eyes as wide as the moon before he huffed out a breath, head falling back as he could only stare at the white ceiling when your tongue touched his tip. Your soft lips took him in, inviting him inside the warmth of your mouth as you gently sucked before releasing him again, using your saliva and his own precum as lubrication for easier motions.

He was in heaven.

Of course he'd though about it, yet it seemed almost embarrassing how he fell apart so quickly under your touch, cum suddenly spurting out as he came violently, not prepared to last under such circumstances. He caught his breath, smiling apologetically as he stood up on slightly unsteady legs, reaching for some tissues inside his backpack near the bed before crawling back to you, cleaning up your face and neck with the outmost care as you suddenly spoke. "So, was that.. good?" You asked, and he scoffed, kissing you deeply before he rested his forehead against yours.

"Angel, you just sent me to heaven." He said, making you giggle as he made you lie down, cleaning between your thighs as to not make too much of a mess of the sheets.

His cum stained tissues however, he'd leave as a present for the witch to find.

If she was to wake again, that is.

"I'm so sorry, she isn't feeling well-" Your father apologized, yet Jungkook simply waved him off with a sympathizing smile. You nodded next to him, agreeing with Jungkook that this was simply a bad day for her. Everyone got sick once in a while. "I hope you have a safe trip home, and thank you for the wine Jungkook, you really have taste." He said, pale skin showing to him that he'd seemingly been affected as well. "We'll stay in touch." He told Jungkook, hugging him in a friendly manner as a form of goodbye.

He was collateral damage.

He actually liked the man a bit, noticing how calm and collected he was, even though he had to share his life with a woman such as your mother. He admired him really, for spending his time with her every day, for simply coexisting with her, without feeling the need to end his own life.

But maybe this man had exactly those thoughts he wondered, as he though about the wine bottle inside his car, evidence he'd taken with him to discard of in safe distance.

And as you both waved one last time, driving off, Jungkook only had one sentence running around inside his head as he thought of the witch that was your mother.

"This time, please just stay dead."

“I don’t have much space-“ he said, sitting on the engine hood of his car, patting his thighs as an invitation for you. “But it’s gonna be okay. I like having you close anyways.” He mused, voice low and drawled as if exhausted. You sat on his lap, legs hanging off on one side, head leaning on his chest, craving his warmth like a newborn kitten. He snaked his arms around your form, bathing in your presence in pure feelings of bliss as you sighed. He looked down on you, hand running over the top of your head. “What is it angel?” He said, worry a present undertone in his voice. You played with the buttons of his coat as he watched the sun set in front of you both, twilight slowly setting in.

“They.. won’t take me away from you, right?” You asked timidly, unknowing why this option scared you so much. Those were your parents; you shouldn’t be scared of them, should you? Yet Jungkook had told you to be wary of them, and you knew he was to be trusted- when has he ever been wrong? He only wanted your best, just like he said; he only wanted you safe and protected, and it made you feel oh so special. The pure option that you could be forced to live without him now seemed utterly terrifying, like a phobia you didn’t know you had.

“No, no angel.” He said, smile ever so present as if he’d just been gifted the thing he’d always wanted. You seemed so upset with the mere possibility of being away from him, it showed him that you had finally accepted him fully; you finally were his and his alone. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me.” He growled possessively, eyes growing cold as you leaned even closer to him, making him take a deep breath in fondness. “I’d rather die.” He whispered, and your head shot up, delicate hands on his chest, and an absolutely divine and desperate look on your face.

“Then I’ll die with you! You can’t leave me behind-“ you said, wide eyes looking at him in pure horror of the simple mention of his death, and he chuckled, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear with gentle hands, as he answered you lowly.

“Don’t worry angel-“ he said, his hand resting on your cheek, eyes watching you like a piece of art. “I’ll take you with me wherever I go.” He said, leaning in for a kiss you eagerly accepted, uncaring of how his hands gripped your waist tightly. Dangerously. And you were just as uncaring of his next words that left his lips between heated kisses.

“Even if I’d have to kill you myself.” he mumbled into you as you smiled.

You felt like Romeo and Juliet.

Or bonny and clyde for that matter.

The news should've hit you hard, yet it only left you with questions. You by now had your suspicions on what had happened, yet instead of igniting fear, it only left you with more things to wonder about. Why would he do these things?

Was he this scared to loose you that he even killed in his desperation to keep you close?

Would you one day be his victim as well?

"Angel?" He asked, standing behind you as his eyes scanned your form, noticing how you'd stopped packing your stuff, simply sitting in your old bedroom, on the floor, on your knees, in the middle of the room. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Well.. were you?

And if you were-

For how long?

Taglist:

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts yandere #bts yandere au #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts

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fanficsrusz · 4 years ago

Text

I WANT TO KI__ YOU - FINAL CHAPTER

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dub-Con, Non-con, Stockholm Syndrome, Being Restrained, Breeding, murder, everything bad.

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF YOU FIND ANY OF THESE WARNINGS TRIGGERING, THEN DO NOT READ. BY CONTINUING TO READ FROM THIS POINT ON, YOU ARE AGREEING THAT YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH ALL OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS. I DO NOT ACCEPT ANY RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU FEEL TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT SINCE THERE HAS BEEN PLENTY OF WARNINGS. IF YOU FEEL LIKE ANY OTHER WARNINGS SHOULD BE ADDED THEN PLEASE POLITELY DM ME AND I WILL ADD THEM.

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Summery: After failing to fulfill his contract, John takes a liking to y/n and his liking soon turns into a dark obsession

Aesthetic Playlist

A/n: After a billion years, a billion mental breakdowns and just about everything else, I have finally mustered up the courage to finish this series. I don't know how to feel.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I look forward to reading all your comments and feedback. If you liked this chapter then please reblog it. That is how writers like myself are able to spread out work to other people, especially because there have been a lot of issues with tags lately. Thank you ❤️

<< Previous Chapter

The taste of his lips was something that she should hate. It's something that she should crave to loaf. But even after everything he put her through, he was the sweetest poison.

John was like an elegantly bound book but in a language she couldn't read. Y/n never thought she would love all the bad things about someone but there she stood, staring out into the openness of the forest through the front door.

The door was there as if her dream had become solid, as if it had grown upon the hinges and blossomed into a comforting hue. An exit. A way out of the nightmare she found herself in. In all the time she had been trapped in the house, the door had remained a mystery to her. Not that she didn't know what laid beyond it, but the idea of what she would do when she saw the day it was held open for that long.

She realised in the air that had been so still on the previous days had suddenly gained a slight movement, as if it had discovered its direction yet was content to meander at its own pace. The autumn breeze that carried fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come. Newly chilled air that moved the clouds, streaks of brilliance breaking through from a patient sun.

Y/n let her eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of nothing, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting her brain process what laid ahead.

John came behind, his lips grazing her hair as he pressed a chaste kiss upon her head.

"I need an answer."

His voice came as a whisper but had a firmness to it as he waited for their fate to be sealed.

Choices were rarely a fork of two pathways, yet with eyes a little wider open, many pathways appeared before her. The right path for one person can be different from another and only the inner compass of love and passion could illuminate it for that soul to walk upon.

"I-" her lips parted, the single syllable falling from her mouth before she stopped. Her eyes clenched shut, images of her past life flashing through her mind, her heart thumping as the emotions of what she had lost pumped through her.

Before she could even register her own existence in her new life, her feet had pulled her from John's hold.

She could feel her heartbeat… every single pound in her chest. This great pounding, this great pressure; every beat. She could hear it, she could feel it. It remained steady with every step she took closer to the door, it remained through what little breaths she could shove down her throat. It remained when she stood and swayed at the threshold. That dark beating remained, as she waited for her own choice to take hold of her body.

With a shaky hand she took hold of the new wooden door, a sigh leaving her as she pushed the door shut, sealing her inside the house and sealing her fate with no other exit. Just like that any glimmer of escape faded away coldly into infinite darkness. Y/n's skin shuddered and she could feel her brain starting to defocus, searching for new hope. She should have gone … out there, to the forest where the paths ran in every direction and she could be free. But one thing and one thing alone stopped her.

Aurora.

John's hand creeped up her arm, offering her a caring touch.

"Thank you" he whispered, breath hot on the back of her neck.

"For what?" her voice came out hostile, sadness prominent in her tone.

"You chose me -" he smiled, "you chose us. You chose Aurora. You chose love." his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer to his icy warmth. "I can't believe you finally recognised the importance of what we have. You've finally learnt to appreciate it all and that's all I ever wanted from you".

Sadness sat an inch below Y/n's face, eyes remaining dry, expression impassive. She knew that if she even let a fraction out that the rest would follow, a never ending torrent of grief. She moved nothing but her eyes, her mind racing while every muscle stayed rock still against John's hold.

"I just needed you to see it with your own eyes, to have you understand that this could be a wonderful life, that we can build a perfect, loving, family" John let his mind wander within the walls of his own fantasy.

"Just think about it. Think about all the good things we can do together here. We can be happy, we can enjoy each other as much as we want without having to worry about the world out there and all the bad things it brings -" he placed a heated kiss onto her skin, his teeth nipping lightly.

That warm, raspy voice that possessed his cords, sent nerves dancing up her spine. Normally his smile sent her mind into an uncontrolled, captivated spiral and his light touch lingered, it branded her soul with a simple mark: infatuation. To call it love would be a mockery of her heart, a symbol of her dying innocence. But every tempered word he spoke invaded her mind, like ivy tendrils seeking any point of weakness to enter; they wrapped her body in a blanket of comfort and consumed her soul in the heat of lust.

Y/n remembered that night John took her in a soft, painful haze. It was the night that taught her the difference between love and infatuation. Love is unconditional, eternal... Infatuation? It dies.

Y/n had become infatuated with John to some degree. The sense of protection that he provided was something that she had never known. What else did she have other than John? But Aurora? She deserved better. Y/n loved her more than anything and she wasn't about to let her daughter live in four walls. Captive. Her beauty hidden away from the world.

That wasn't a life she wanted for her.

"-I only needed to know that you were convinced, that you had it in your heart" John continued, his lips peppering her skin with soft kisses.

"well now you know" y/n whispered, eyes still glued to the closed door.

"You know-" John gently turned her body, forcing her to look at him as his soft brown eyes studied her features for a moment, "-keeping you chained in that basement for the rest of your life was a possibility but that wasn't enough for me"

Y/n felt the pad of his thumb rub against the wet skin of her cheek, rubbing away a few tears that had managed to quietly escape their fortress.

"I wanted you to be here with me, so you could enjoy this life of ours without being kept like an animal." his eyes softened, eyebrows dipping kindly. "It was all necessary at first. Just a training process and I only kept you like that because you needed it"

Y/n knew it was wrong what he did. But why did it hurt to know what she would do?

"I understand" she whispered, her own hands wrapping around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. With a deep breath she took note of all the musky sweet notes of his scents. John rested his head on top of hers, his smile uncontrollable.

"it was like the medicine you needed to take" John let out a small laugh as he thought back. "you were this small little disobedient puppy. It was cute honestly but it was just something you needed to go through to get stronger. And now look at you!" he pulled back, holding her at arms length so be count admire her perfect face. "you're so beautiful and So loyal"

John kissed the droplets of tears from her lips, and she felt his lips smile against hers. He swept her hair aside and kissed her just over the collarbone. He nibbled at her ear, and then sank himself into her arms. She hung her fingers on his waistband, dragging him closer and he buried his face in her shoulder curve, his hands flexing around her back. John gave a reduced groan before whispering “I love you,” into her hair.

"So do I" she mustered back.

"I can't believe you finally see me for what I really am. Your family. Your soulmate. Your world. Of course that world includes Aurora. Her future brothers and sisters. We will have all we need right here" he placed another kiss onto her forehead. "we can build something new, something perfect and you are the one who made it all possible. You - you have no idea how special you are to me my love."

John stepped back, extending his hand for her to take and Y/n slowly took it into hers.

"I will never let you go. No matter what happens, I will always find you."

Three days later

The perfect life for the perfect wife. That's what Y/n told herself daily, over and over.

Y/n had been baking for a few hours and as the moments passed, tune by tune as the radio sang along, the piles of cookies, buns and breads grew. It was the same as mess, only the good sort she supposed, the edible sort that made people happy. That would make her happy.

Aurora sat in her highchair, cooing softly as Y/n plated a few cookies and turned slowly, smiling as she watched her daughter stare up at her.

She placed the plate on that table and kissed Aurora on the forehead.

"No matter what happens. I love you" she breathed heavily and pulled back when she heard John step into the kitchen.

"Good morning" Y/n smiled, wiping some of the drool from Aurora's face.

John rounded the table and kissed y/n on the cheek before kissing Aurora's head.

"Good morning my loves".

For a moment there was silence in the large room and y/n shifted on her feet.

"What are you going to do today?" John finally asked, pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with some water.

Y/n shook her head slowly.

"I don't know. Maybe clean. Play with Aurora. I baked some cookies already" John's eyes lit up as he walked over to the table, smiling as he picked up a warm cookie.

"You made these?" he asked and y/n only hummed.

"Mhmm"

John kissed her cheek and Y/n savoured the feeling of his lingering touch before she turned around to face him.

"Try it. Tell me how it is".

John smirked before lifting the cookie to her mouth.

"oh no. I've already eaten so many of them. I made them specially for you"

"Such a good wife" John smiled. The cookie skimmed his lips before he shoved it into his mouth, letting the buttery goodness explode against his tongue.

"Wow" he exclaimed, "This is really good". Y/n’s eyes lit up with excitement as she watched him eat a second cookie without hesitation.

"Good. I'm glad you like them".

John lifted his glass of water to his lips before he felt something wash over him. Something he hadn't felt… Ever.

His hand extended towards Y/n as he tried to grab her, reaching out for support but she only pulled away, the smile she wore still on her face as she watched him intently.

John breathed heavily but the air just wouldn't go in, like his lungs were surrounded by metal bands. Next came the rising panic, the dizzy feeling and the need to get low to the ground. The exertion brought on more breathlessness, like the air around him was devoid of oxygen. His ribs heaved up and down but no benefit came.

"Y.. Y/n…" his wheezing voice called out to her but she only stepped back.

The poison was made to mimic an efficient virus, to kill the host fast. A few drops here and there and the decay set in, a sort of race to the bottom. The best part? She didn't even know what it was. She just read the bottle that John had stashed away and shoved it into the batter. If there was one thing she learnt from her mother was that love was the best blindfold for any plan.

Y/n picked up Aurora, cradling her in her arms as she watched John gasp for breath. In his glassy eyes that stared up at her, she saw her reflection and she saw that what she was doing was the right thing.

"You were and always have been a - monster" the words seemed to burn her tongue but she ignored the pain it caused. "You will never be able to find me or her again. Goodbye John"

As the blackness finally began to consume him once and for all, he watched as his love pulled open the front door, her shadowy figure slowly fading into the darkness as he also did.

3 months later.

"Thank you, detective" y/n pushed the papers into her handbag before placing the bag back onto that handle of the pram. Aurora laid asleep in her arms and y/n slowly stood up.

"No worries" the detective smiled kindly before reaching out over the table, stopping y/n from moving any more. "-and just so you know, I'm sorry. I know there isn't anything I can say that can fix everything that happened to you but You're safe now. We won't let anything else happen." y/n smiled softly and placed her hand on top of his reassuringly.

"It's okay. You searched and you couldn't find me. There isn't anything anyone could have done. He… Was different. He was smart".

The detective shook his head and pulled his hand away, burying them in piles of paper.

"he was a monster for what he did".

Y/n felt the tears well in the back of her eyes as she felt her throat turn dry.

"I-" before she could even think of anything to say, Aurora began to cry and y/n laughed, shaking the pain of her aching heart away. "-I should really get her home".

"Of course". He led y/n to the door, holding it open for her as they began to proceed down the corridor.

"There's still quite a few reporters out there so it's best you take the back exit. Officer Hughes will swing by your place later on to check in"

"Oh. Terry? He doesn't have to. He's been doing that everyday for the past three months -"

"Nonsense. It's the least we could do".

Y/n smiled and looked down at her watch.

"Thank you so much detective. I'll see you later"

"see ya".

Y/n left the building and sighed as she heard the loud noise of the city and wind around her, the warm sun warming her body just as the first few drops of rain fell from the sky.

"Let's get you home" she whispered to her daughter, pushing the pram towards home.

The cafe that y/n lived above laid ahead, just around the corner and y/n couldn't wait to get her feet up. It's royal blue paint glistening under the closed sky was definitely a sight for sore eyes. She could just about see the large sign, decorated with droplets of water that hung on like glistening jewels. "Gloria's."

Outside the sidewalk that would bustle in a few short hours was quiet, the concrete oblivious to whether it was midday or midnight. Y/n’s face smirked upward at the sight of the flower planter to the right, the city has put in new blooms that will give flashes of sunny yellows and hot pinks through the springtime. If she stopped walking right now she could almost hear the heartbeat of the city, quiet, like the ticking of an old Grandfather clock.

Her mind was too preoccupied with the world around her and y/n didn't notice the figure that hid under the umbrella that she nearly ran over.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" y/n exclaimed, extending her hand to steady the person. Y/n waited patiently for the person's response, waiting to make sure she didn't hurt them.

Then she heard it, the dark, low chuckle that made her spine tingle.

"You're just as polite as the first time, Princess"

The end.