#because i know i mention his loyalty here

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 16

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : WARNINGS WILL GIVE SPOILERS !!! MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, guns, shooting

Chris’s POV

I didn’t wake up until 3pm, sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. My body ached like I’d been hit by a truck, but the heaviness wasn’t just physical, it was mental too. The events from last night lingered in my mind like smoke, refusing to clear.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I saw a notification from Y/n, her name lighting up the screen. She’d replied to my late night text at 7am , like the early riser she was:

"Probably won’t be finished until 6, but I’d love to meet you after! Can’t wait. xx"

A grin spread across my face as I read her message. Y/n had quickly become the best part of my life, the one constant that kept me grounded in the midst of the chaos. Knowing she wanted to see me, even after last night when I’d left her house abruptly, made me feel.. normal. Like I was just a guy with a girlfriend, looking forward to dinner or a drive. Not a dealer. Not someone neck deep in this life.

But then my mind shifted, and I couldn’t help but think about Nate. He’d been heavy on my thoughts since the funeral, and not just because of Danny. After last night’s incident at the docks, I wondered if he knew what had happened. Did Vince fill him in? Did he know I’d gotten into a fight with an H Block, or was he still in the dark?

I sat up, tossing my phone on the bed and running my hands through my hair. I needed to see him. Nate wasn’t the type to reach out, even when things got tough, but I couldn’t let him spiral alone. The weight of Danny’s death was already crushing enough. Add in everything else going on with the cartel, and I knew he was probably close to his breaking point.

Grabbing my jacket, I slipped on my sneakers and headed out the door. Driving to Nate’s place, I tried to clear my mind, but the tension in my chest wouldn’t go away. I kept thinking about last night, the way I fucked up that H Block guy, the adrenaline that surged as Vince encouraged me to keep going. That’s what haunted me most. I’d crossed a line, one that was getting harder to ignore.

When I pulled up to Nate’s place, something felt.. off. I spotted a black sedan parked a couple of houses down, its windows tinted. It wasn’t a car I recognized, and that alone was enough to make me suspicious. Nate’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly known for flashy cars, most of the people here drove old Hondas or pickups.

I stayed in the car for a moment, watching. No movement. No one got in or out of the sedan. Maybe someone swung by to pay respects to Danny. Maybe it was a cop since Danny’s death was now a murder investigation, after all. Or maybe it was something worse, like someone from H Block scoping out Nate’s place.

Shaking my head, I grabbed my phone and sent Nate a quick text:

"I’m outside. Want to go for a ride?"

No reply. I waited a minute, then another, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Finally, the front door creaked open, and Nate stepped out. The sun was low on the horizon, casting the street in an orange glow as he walked toward the car. He looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped like the weight of the world was crushing him.

I nodded at him, and he climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

“What’s up?” I asked as we pulled away from the curb.

He shrugged, staring out the window. “Not much.”

I glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. “You look like shit, man.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s been a shit week.”

“How you holding up?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

Nate shrugged, still not looking at me. “Same as you’d expect. Just tired of everything.”

I didn’t push him, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. After a minute, I asked, “You figure out who it was that tried to make the hit at the funeral?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah. But no idea who he’s connected to. Guess he thought he’d make a name for himself, going after us at Danny’s funeral of all places.” He paused, clenching his fists. “But he’s gone now. Fled the city. No one can find him, but I’m not worried. He’ll show his face eventually. When he does, I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t doubt that. Nate wasn’t the kind of guy to let things go, not when it came to family.

“What about Danny?” I asked carefully, keeping my eyes on the road as I drove. “You guys got any leads on his murder? Pieced together what happened that night?”

Nate leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his face. “Not much, but Vince gave me some details. Danny was found outside the warehouse at the docks.” He turned to look at me, his face grim. “Vince was one of the first on the scene, but he couldn’t stay. He got some of the guys to move Danny’s body before the cops could get there and start poking around.”

My stomach twisted. “Why’d they move him?”

Nate scoffed, his tone bitter. “Why do you think? The warehouse is full of supplies. Cops start sniffing around there, and it’s game over for us. Vince didn’t have a choice. Told everyone to play it like Danny was shot somewhere else, that they drove him to the hospital but died on the way.”

I tightened my grip on the wheel, my knuckles going white. The thought of Danny’s body being dragged around like that made me sick.

Nate continued, his voice low and cold. “Hospital bought it. Cops bought it too, at least for now. They think he was killed in the middle of nowhere. But we know the truth.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating. My mind raced, piecing together the events. “Say it was one of those H Block fucks” I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “What if someone from their crew was trying to break into the warehouse and Danny just happened to be there at the wrong time?”

Nate frowned, turning to me with suspicion. “What makes you say that?”

I hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth. “Because I ran into one of them there last night” I admitted, my voice low. “Caught some guy trying to steal our supplies. Vince told me to handle it, so I did. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? If they’re getting bold enough to hit the funeral, they’d try the warehouse too.”

Nate’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with anger. “You think it’s connected?”

“I don’t know” I admitted. “But it feels too close to ignore.”

Nate didn’t say anything for a while, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped lower. “We’ll find out” he said finally, his voice hard. “One way or another, we’ll find out who did this. And when we do..”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The fury in his voice said it all.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The weight of what had happened was sinking in deeper, but I couldn’t let it consume me. Not now. Not when there was still so much left to unravel.

"Wait, the fuck were you doing at the docks last night? Thought you had a dinner to attend?" Nate says, raising an eyebrow as I pull into a gas station.

I sigh, pulling the car to a stop near the pump. "And I did attend that dinner" I reply, stepping out. "But Vince pulled me out early. Needed me for a run. Ended up partaking in a physical fight, too. Exactly how I wanted to spend my Thursday night."

Nate lets out a dry laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Makes two of us in physical fights last night. At least I didn’t get my lip split open." Nate smirks, grabbing at my face.

I smirk, rubbing my thumb over the slight sting still lingering on my lip. "I thought you said the guy fled town? Who the hell were you fighting?"

"Three H Block runners" Nate says nonchalantly. "Teenagers. Just needed to let some anger out. Came out without a scratch."

Typical Nate. I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head as I open the door and step out of the car. He doesn’t do things halfway. I start pumping gas, my mind replaying the fight from last night. As much as I wanted to forget it, the tension wouldn’t leave my body.

After filling up, I walk into the convenience store to pay. The fluorescent lights buzz above as I hand over a twenty and grab a bottle of water for the road. Stepping back outside, my eyes instinctively scan the lot.

That’s when I notice it. a black sedan parked by the pumps a few spaces away. It’s the same type I saw near Nate’s house earlier. My stomach twists.

Has to be a coincidence, I think to myself, trying to shake off the paranoia. Now that I’ve seen one, I’m probably just noticing them everywhere.

The thought lingers, though, as I slide back into the driver’s seat. I glance at the time. 5:30pm. Almost time to pick up Y/n.

"You need me to bring you anywhere before I drop you off?" I ask Nate casually, adjusting my rearview mirror.

"Where you headed?" he asks, cracking his window and lighting a cigarette.

"I'm picking my girlfriend up at six." I say, sliding it in with just the right amount of smugness.

Nate’s head snaps toward me so fast I almost laugh. "Girlfriend?!" he repeats, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You kept that quiet."

I grin, knowing exactly how surprised he must be. "Didn’t come up."

He shakes his head, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. "Man, you soft now, huh?” 

“Maybe” I chuckle. “But if any questions are ever asked about this, say you and I got into it okay?” I say pointing at my lip.

“Is that what you told her?” Nate raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah man, couldn’t tell her I had someone pull a knife on me. She’d flip. She doesn’t know about the whole incident at the funeral, fuck, she didn’t even know about the funeral. You love to carry a knife on you too, so it check out in my brain.” I say shaking my head.

“God you’re in this thing a couple weeks and couples therapy is already calling.” Nate laughs.

Y/n’s POV

The courtroom had been stifling all day, and I was practically counting the minutes until I could leave. My phone buzzed just as I was tucking my notes and books into my bag.

"I'm out front. Take your time x."

A smile broke across my face as I read Chris’s message. This day had dragged on relentlessly, and I couldn’t wait to see him. Just the thought of being in his company made everything feel lighter.

I made my way out of the courtroom and through the courthouse doors, the crisp evening air hitting me as I spotted Chris’s sleek Mercedes parked at the curb. He looked out through the passenger window and his face lit up when he saw me approaching.

As soon as I got in the passenger seat, I leaned over to kiss him, melting into his warmth.

“It’s so nice to see you” he said softly, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than usual.

“It’s nice to see you too” I replied, buckling my seatbelt.

He started the car, the low hum of the engine filling the space. “Where do you want to get food from?” he asked, glancing at me.

I didn’t have to think long. “Honestly? I’m really feeling McDonald’s right now.”

Chris laughed, his expression a mix of amusement and fondness. “If McDonald’s is what my girl wants, McDonald’s is what my girl gets.”

I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t fancy, but I loved how he always made me feel like my choices mattered.

We headed to the nearest McDonald’s, sliding into the drive thru line. After some playful back and forth, we decided on a 20 piece chicken nugget meal with sweet and sour sauce, paired with two Pepsi’s.

When we reached the pickup window, the smell of fresh fries filled the car, making my stomach growl.

“You better not eat all the fries before we park” I teased, reaching for a couple as he handed me the bag.

“Hey, we both know fries have a lifespan of, like, five minutes” Chris shot back, smirking as he grabbed a few for himself.

We drove to Castle Island, the sky was now pitch black. Chris pulled into a quiet spot near the water, cutting the engine. The world felt still except for the occasional rustle of the trees and the distant sound of waves.

We opened the bag and dug in, alternating between nuggets and fries, laughing as we both reached for the sweet and sour sauce at the same time. It was simple, but moments like this with Chris always felt special.

“This is perfect” I said, leaning back against the seat, the salty tang of fries lingering on my tongue.

Chris glanced over at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make everything perfect.”

I felt my cheeks flush as I nudged him playfully. “You’re so cheesy.”

He chuckled, but his eyes softened. “Only for you.”

Chris smirked, tossing another nugget into his mouth as he turned to look at me. "I love having you as my passenger princess," he said, his tone light and teasing.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Passenger princess? Really?"

"Yup" he said with a grin. Then his expression shifted slightly, like he’d been meaning to bring something up. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, do you drive?"

I couldn’t help but laugh at the question. "Can I? Yes. Can I legally? No."

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Wait, what? Why not?"

"My driving test is coming up soon" I admitted. "I never really needed to know how to drive until we moved out of the city. So I only started learning recently. But honestly, the thought of the test freaks me out."

Chris chuckled, his smile softening. "That’s kinda cute. Don’t stress about it, though. And, for the record, I have no problem driving you around. I’d take you over Nate any day."

I grinned at his playful jab. "Speaking of Nate, have you talked to him since the whole argument?"

Chris nodded, his eyes flicking to the water outside the windshield before meeting mine again. "Uh yeah.. I was actually with him before I came to meet you. Everything’s cool now."

I nodded back, taking in his response. I hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the better of me. There were questions I’d been holding back for a while, and now felt like the right time to ask. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course" he said, tilting his head slightly, his expression open.

"So.. in the gang or whatever you call it," I started cautiously, "is there anyone else like you and Nate in it?"

Chris paused, wiping his hands on a napkin before leaning back in his seat. "Age wise, you mean?"

I nodded, watching him closely as he mulled over the question.

He shrugged, his tone casual, but there was a faint edge to it. "Nah, not really. It’s just me and Nate in our 20’s. He’s the youngest, and I’m only a year older. Everyone else is in their thirties or forties or older."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Seriously? Just the two of you? That’s.. a little unexpected."

Chris considers this for a moment, looking out toward the horizon before turning back to me. "Yeah it can be weird sometimes. But Nate and I stick together. It’s not like the older guys treat us badly or anything, they just see us as the runners, not the ones calling the shots."

I nod again, chewing on his words, a tangle of thoughts forming in my mind. I decide to push some of the heavier ones aside, for now, focusing on enjoying this moment with him.

"You and Nate have always been close, though."

Chris smiled faintly, his eyes softening at the mention of his best friend. "Yeah, we are. He’s like a brother to me. Sometimes I just wish he’d get out of this life, you know? But I don’t think he’ll ever change his ways."

I wanted to tell him that he deserved better, that they both did, but I held back. Instead, I leaned into the moment, savoring the way he’s starting to open up to me.

"Well" I said softly, "I’m glad you two are okay now. And for what it’s worth, I like seeing this side of you, open, honest. It makes me feel closer to you."

Chris looked at me, his expression shifting to something tender and unguarded. "You’re the only person I feel like I can talk to like this" he admitted.

My heart swelled at his words, and I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

We sat there in the car, the last of the fries growing cold as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But deep down, I felt like something had shifted between us, a step closer to understanding each other’s worlds, even if they were still so far apart.

"Can we go back.. to yours?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice light, not wanting to come across as invasive. "I mean, I want to make the effort with your family, like you have with mine."

There was a brief silence before Chris responded, his voice a little uncertain. "Uh.. yeah, sure."

His hesitation wasn’t lost on me, and I quickly added, "If it’s too much, it’s okay, I just thought I could get to know your world a little better."

I saw his lips tighten slightly, and he turned toward me with an almost apologetic look. "No, it’s fine. It’s just.. it’s nothing compared to what you live in. Your house is so pristine and presentable.. whereas Uncle Jerry’s place, well.." His voice trailed off, the words left unfinished, as if he didn’t want to insult his uncle’s place.

My heart tugged at the mention of his uncle. I knew Chris had a complicated relationship with his family. He’d told me before that after his own family cut him off, he’d been staying with Uncle Jerry. I reached over, placing my hand gently on his arm. "That doesn’t matter to me, Chris. I just want to be with you, wherever that is."

He looked at me, his eyes softening, and I could see a faint relief in his expression. But then, I felt the need to add something else, something I’d been thinking about for a while. "And besides, I was thinking, when you’re out of all this, maybe you could try reaching out to your family. Maybe try rebuilding those connections."

Chris’s face hardened for a second, and he seemed to retreat inward. I held my breath, not sure if I’d crossed a line, but then he exhaled slowly, looking out the window.

"I don’t know, Y/n" he said quietly. "I dont know if they’ll ever accept me back. Not after everything." His tone was guarded, but I could hear the underlying pain.

I squeezed his arm, my voice gentle. "You never know. People change, Chris. And you’ve changed, too. I just think, maybe.. they might not be so quick to turn their backs on you if they see that."

He didn’t answer right away, and the silence between us stretched for a few moments. I wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but I didn’t press further. I could see he needed time to process it.

Instead, I smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood. "But hey, it’ll be an adventure, right? Going to Uncle Jerry’s place?"

Chris smirked, his eyes flicking toward me. "Yeah, if you call it that. You’re really sure you want to see where I grew up?"

I nodded, my expression sincere. "Absolutely. I want to know all of you, Chris."

A genuine smile spread across his face then, and he leaned over to kiss my forehead lightly. "Alright. Let’s go then."

We both settled into a comfortable silence as he started the car again, the city slipping away as we headed toward his uncle’s place. And though I didn’t know exactly what would happen when we arrived, I knew one thing for sure, I was ready to be there for him, just like he had been for me.

Chris’ POV

As we pulled up outside my uncle Jerry’s place on Medford Street, I couldn’t help but shake my head. The house didn’t exactly scream "homey" and in the low light, it looked even worse than usual. "It looks like a right trap house, doesn’t it?" I said, laughing under my breath, but my words carried that familiar bitterness.

Y/n, always the optimist, tried to reassure me. "It’s not that bad" she insisted, but I could tell by the look on her face that she was still taking in the sight of the place.

I just hoped Jerry wasn’t asleep on the couch. I wouldn't want to subject her to that, she didn’t need to see the way he lived. Shit, I barely could stand it myself. I’d hoped he’d be passed out in his room, preferably not stirring when we came in.

I reached over and unlocked the front door, the sound of the key turning in the lock echoing through the stillness of the night. The house was dark, which was perfect. The less Y/n saw of the chaos, the better. Exactly what I wanted, since you can’t see shit.

We stepped inside, the heavy smell of old furniture and stale air hitting me immediately. The house was quiet, too quiet. Jerry’s room was at the back, and the living room was to the left, with the usual mess of old magazines, fast food containers, and a busted-up couch. I wanted to get us to my room as quickly as possible, where things were.. more put together.

Since Jerry’s place was a bungalow, there wasn’t much to navigate. It was basically a long stretch with rooms off to the side. I led Y/n to the right, to the first door that opened to my room. I flicked the light switch, the soft glow illuminating the space, and I motioned for Y/n to come inside.

"This is where I crash" I said, trying to sound casual, but there was a tinge of pride in my voice. Compared to the rest of the house, my room was pristine and presentable. I kept it clean, I had to, if only to feel like I had something that was mine.

Y/n took a moment to look around, and I could see her eyes soften as she surveyed the room. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. A small bed, a desk neatly organised with books, and a few pictures hang on the wall. Nothing fancy, but it was a place where I could think, breathe, and for the first time in a while, I felt comfortable with her being there.

"Make yourself at home" I said, closing the door behind us. The place was quieter, calmer than the chaos outside, and it felt like a bit of peace.

I watched as Y/n moved around the room, touching a few things here and there, but not too much, respecting the space. I felt a sense of pride surge through me. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a part of me, and in that moment, it was enough.

Y/n had sat down beside me on the edge of the bed, her legs tucked under her as she glanced around my small, dimly lit room. I could feel her eyes lingering on the few personal touches I had scattered around, nothing flashy, just things that made this place feel like mine. And for some reason, having her here with me felt different than anyone else ever had.

"You know" she said softly, breaking the silence. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the future lately."

I turned to look at her, my heart tightening at the way she spoke. "What do you mean?" I asked, leaning back slightly on the bed to face her more fully.

She shifted, pulling her knees to her chest as she glanced down, then back at me. "I mean.. us. What we’re doing. What it all looks like in the long run. You know, once this.. all this.. is behind you." She gestured vaguely, the weight of what I was involved in hanging heavy between us. "I can’t help but picture us, together, in the future. Somewhere.. where we can just breathe. You and me."

My chest tightened, a lump forming in my throat. I knew what she meant, and honestly, I’d never really let myself think about it, about a future, about a life with her outside of everything that dragged me down. But hearing her say it out loud made it feel real. It made it seem possible.

"I’d like that" I said softly, my voice hoarse, vulnerable. "I’d like to have a future with you. Somewhere.. just us. Away from all this shit."

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer, settling in beside me on the bed. There was a quiet kind of understanding between us, the unspoken bond growing stronger with each moment. She leaned into me, her head finding its place against my shoulder. "We’ll get there" she whispered. "We just have to take it one step at a time, right?"

I nodded, my hand finding its way to her back, pulling her a little closer, the warmth of her body grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. My hand slid to her side, fingers gently tracing the curve of her waist as we sat in the comfortable silence.

Then, without even thinking about it, I turned to her. Her face was close, the soft curve of her lips tempting, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, like we were both still figuring out what this was, what we meant to each other. But the longer it lasted, the deeper it became, until there was no space left between us.

I felt her hands move to my chest, pushing me gently backwards, and before I knew it, she was straddling me, her legs draped on either side, her breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps against my lips. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat flood through me, my heart racing as I looked up at her. There was a wildness to the moment, an urgency, but it felt right, like everything had led up to this. To us.

Her hands moved to my shoulders, then down to my chest, her touch sending electricity through me. My hands found their way to her hips, pulling her in closer, the warmth of her body against mine driving me crazy. But just as I was lost in the moment, just as everything felt like it was finally falling into place, the sudden beep of my phone broke through the haze.

I groaned, pulling away from her reluctantly as I reached for my phone. The alarm was a reminder—a notification for something I couldn’t ignore.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, silencing the alarm. My stomach tightens at the reminder.

“Shit” I mutter.

“Is everything okay?” Y/n asks, tilting her head slightly, her soft expression making me hesitate.

“Yeah.. it’s.. work” I answer, fumbling for the right words.

“Oh” she says, standing up from the bed. I can tell she’s disappointed, though she’s trying to hide it.

“What do you have to do?” she asks quietly, her voice almost reluctant.

I sigh. “I’ve got to deliver some weed. Just a fifty bag, so it’s not much. I can drop you home first, and then go do it. The dude knows me, so he won’t care if I’m a little late.”

“Yeah, that’s okay” she says with a small nod, but her shoulders sag just enough for me to notice. I hate this. Hate that I keep doing this to her.

We make our way out of my house and back to the car. I unlock it, and we both slide into our seats. The engine hums to life as I glance over at her. She’s staring out the window, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

“Have you made any attempts to try to leave yet?” she asks suddenly, her tone colder than before.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. “No.. not yet” I admit. “I said two weeks because.. because I have to figure out how to get out. It’s not as easy as just walking away.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her silence weighing heavy in the car. Finally, she speaks, her voice low.

“Where’s this going to?”

“Longwood” I reply. “Why?”

“You have to go through Longwood to get to my place,” she says, glancing over at me. “Just deliver this off, then drop me home. At least it gives me a bit more time with you.”

I hesitate. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m just throwing you home, either.”

“I’m sure” she says firmly. “Put it this way, it’s probably one of the last runs you’ll ever do, right? I’m glad to be here, ending this part of your life with you.” She gives me a small, reassuring smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The drive to Longwood is quiet. Occasionally, Y/n hums softly to the radio, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. Mine is too.

When we arrive, I park a little down the street, avoiding the house. No way am I letting anyone see her here. I text the dude to let him know I’m here, and he replies almost immediately, telling me to meet him around the side of his place. I glance at Y/n sitting in the car, her fingers absentmindedly drumming on her knee as she stares out the window. I glance at her. “I’ll be quick.”

She nods, giving me a faint smile, though the worry in her eyes is unmistakable.

I lock the car behind me as I step out, tucking the fifty bag into my jacket pocket. Walking down the street, I keep glancing over my shoulder, my eyes flickering back to where the car sits. I hate leaving her like this, even for a few minutes.

I round the corner of the guy’s house and stop, positioning myself at the edge where I can still see my car. It’s a habit, maybe paranoia, but with Y/n sitting inside, I can’t take any chances. I lean against the wall, trying to shake the nagging feeling in my chest. I shouldn’t have brought her with me.

The dude comes out from the back of the house, his hoodie pulled up over his head. He nods at me as he approaches.

“Yo” he greets casually, pulling a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and handing it to me.

I slip him the bag of weed in exchange. “All good?”

“Yeah, man. Easy.” he says with a grin before disappearing back into the shadows.

I turn to leave, relief washing over me. Simple. Quick. Just the way I wanted it.

As I step back onto the street, I hear the low rumble of a car creeping slowly toward me. My heart sinks.

A black sedan rolls up, its headlights off. It stops just a few feet from my car, parked awkwardly in the middle of the road.

A black sedan.

Again?

Something’s wrong.

I freeze, watching as the passenger window rolls down ever so slightly. My breath catches when I see it – a hand, pale against the dark, gripping the barrel of a gun.

“Fuck” I whisper, my eyes darting to the car where Y/n is sitting.

Before I can move, the first shot shatters the silence of the night, followed by the sound of breaking glass. My car’s back window explodes into shards, and I hear Y/n’s muffled scream from inside. The sedan’s tires screech as it takes off, leaving the street in chaos.

Fuck. Y/n.

a/n: BUCKLE THE FUCK UP BITCHES

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[harkingspot]

Heyo it’s me, I’m here to ruin ya day

Thoughts on Mitzi and Mordecai’s parallels and how desperate they are to find answers about Altas’s death?

mordecai heller and mitzi may: a piece on grieving.

FIRST of all, i apologise that this response took a very long time to cook up. i wanted it to be as fleshed out as possible because i do have a lot to say in this regard. the train of thought initially departed because of the widespread misunderstanding around mitzi’s character. to which i thought to myself: well it’s strange that people can easily extend their empathy towards mordecai, who (to me) has undoubtedly done worse. but what’s even worse is that, if you really look closely— if we made a venn diagram for these two, there’s a large chunk of overlap between them.

(p.s. now that i am proofreading all of this i realise its a bit different from what you asked but nonetheless i hope it captures the complex nature of grief as a theme in lackadaisy, especially when discussing the parallels between mitzi and mordecai)

so let’s break it down.

if someone wanted to read lackadaisy and asked me if there were any main themes that circled around the story— i would say: grief. more specifically, the consequences of untapped grief. mean the story itself starts off with the mysterious and brutal death of atlas may, who was THE big cat behind the lackadaisy. atlas himself was an enigma, and i have mentioned this before in another post. his position within the story bears a lot of similarities to rose quartz as they play the ghastly spouse that haunts the narrative.

however, this is not about atlas, but instead the two people that served as his vessel after his passing:

his wife, mitzi, and his right-hand man, mordecai.

instead of dissecting this theme individually, finding the differences between the two, i thought it would do the analysis more justice to extract it directly from the source material itself. initially i wanted to talk about how this grieving bleeds out onto others around them (e.g. mitzi forging a check from wick, mordecai kneecapping viktor).

let’s take “hamstring” and “monomania” for example, as they both converse over asa’s claims at their lunch. but if you really think about it, it was never about that.

this scene embodies a power struggle between the two. for one, mitzi’s mentions of mordecai’s “obsession” as a deflection. she sees his rigid loyalty as both a flaw and a threat. by framing mordecai as overly fixated, she’s able to position herself as the more pragmatic party who is trying to keep afloat. which is true and mitzi, rightfully, views mordecai as a “relentless former associate.” his meticulous nature, his refusal to let go of the past, and his allegiance to ideals that no longer align with business’ survival paints him as the wildcard to her. then again, it’s hard to take empty words from someone that had abandoned the very concept he claims to protect.

that’s not to say mordecai doesn’t return the sentiment, because he very much does. to him, mitzi’s pragmatism looks more like opportunism, evident in her willingness to bend rules, and in his perspective, betray atlas’ vision to keep the business alive. while she plays the capable leader, that imagery clashes with his perception of her as someone who lacks discipline— possibly bred by the history that mordecai knows her to be atlas’ wife and nobody more. he sees mitzi as culpable in the lackadaisy’s downfall and he makes sure she knows this.

but at the end of the day, they are having this conversation inside the same car. while one might interpret this being the main divergence between the two, we can see a striking commonality in which they are failed actors starring in roles they never wanted.

what do i mean by this? while the dont outwardly acknowledge it, grief survives in this scenario as a subtext. you can tell by the use of dialogue. mitzi’s sarcastic tone and pointed remarks, almost shoving the spotlight towards mordecai, suggests a stage of denial and pain that comes with her grieving over atlas. remember what mordecai said to mitzi in response?

“losses are endemic to this business. you’ve brought them on yourself in your persistence… as though you could bring the remains of atlas’ estate to anything but further disgrace.”

his crticisim of mitzi isn’t just about the state of the lackadaisy, in fact, mordecai subconsciously targets himself for his own inability to move on. mordecai and mitzi are different people, that is no question. but this scene serves as a great analogy that this conversation could very much be happening in their heads. this is a conversation not between two people but between one and oneself.

here’s also another thing to note: their seating arrangement.

whether or not tracy meant for this to be intentional, there’s a lot you can take in this scene in regards to their character. mitzi sits in the passenger seat at the front, where the light is more prominent. it symbolises her active role as the current face of the lackadaisy and the one taking on visible responsibility for its perseverance. however, note that she is still in the passenger seat, not the driver’s— mitzi is losing control, she is struggling to move forward in the wake of atlas’ passing. but she’s still not fully in charge of its trajectory, think of how asa and mordecai looks down on her current position.

occasionally, she’d glance back at mordecai to speak, which definitely shows her discomfort and mistrust towards him, she’s unwilling to fully confront him. and in my opinion, not only does this reveal her vulnerability, this also shows her internal discontent.

mordecai, on the other hand, is sitting behind her (literally AND metaphorically) in the shadows. he sits in the back, detached from the lackadaisy but not completely. he observes mitzi from behind, his direct vision fixed on the back of her head, almost as if he’s reflecting on her choices and her struggles— perhaps… confronted with his own betrayal.

plus, if you’re thinking: what about the holes in the windows? GREAT question. despite how they want to present themselves, be it independent (mitzi) or calculated (mordecai), they’re both incredibly vulnerable individuals.

as they sit in this confined space together, they breathe in the air of their inescapable bond and mutual dependence. their dynamic equal parts antagonistic and deeply intertwined.

[alicesmindpalace]

A quick birthday 🎂 post about some of the reasons Iike and respect Ian so much.

I made one for Anthony's birthday and this is a good occasion to keep on talking about why Ian and Anthony are two of my favorite people.

Recently I've noticed that Ian is getting a lot of praise. In these last year or so there have been a lot of comments everywhere on youtube appreciating him for keeping Smosh alive all this time, being grateful for all that he has done during the "working single mom/dad working two jobs" era when Defy collapsed, and saying how great he is for the way he manages to foster such a good work environment at the company to this day.

So I won't add to that and just mention some other little things that I think should be mentioned more.

Referencing what I wrote in the Anthony birthday post, I always thought that Ian and Anthony handled the split with a lot of grace. It still blows my mind tbh how careful they've been to never say anything publicly that could even indirectly harm the other’s reputation, and that is so rare when these things happen. Ian especially as the person that most people considered the hurt party could have said things to gain the fans favor, it would have been very easy at the time because for a longest time the fandom was looking for someone to put the blame on. But Ian didn't turn Anthony as a villain in the eyes of the fandom even if he could have easily done it just by throwing some weird comment here and there, knowing that people were waiting for him to say something. He actually did the opposite of that and even when the chance was served to him a lot of times, he always refused to fall for the bait, and instead said nice things at the time, even if there was a bit of resentment there like he said after the reunion on a couple of interviews.

This obviously also speaks about Anthony's character too and who he is off camera, because there must be a reason Ian had that level of respect and loyalty. Like, I can't stress how rare this is, and how much I appreciated it.

Another random fun little thing that shows how respectful Ian is in these situations imo is how he always makes sure to subtly correct people in interviews and stuff, whenever the interviewers mention that "they" created Smosh as early as 2002 fr example. He could just roll with it, nobody would even notice, or know but he always makes it clear that it's Anthony that built the website and started the whole Smosh thing, and he does it when Anthony is not there to listen. It's subtle but a soon as he hears it he always finds a way to correct it, even in passing. I noticed this many times and I just love that.

He is very "fair" imo, and doesn't try to earn respect when he feels like he didn't deserve it, I still remember how genuine he sounded for example when he went out his way to correct Keith one time and say that he doesn't want his fans to defend him or to love him unconditionally, and wants them to hold him accountable, even when Keith had framed it in the way where it would have been easier for Ian to just agree with him and say that he's thankful for the fandom to be by his side no matter what. "I don't really relish in the idea of someone supporting me no matter what. I should be judged" /"The thing you said about unconditional love? The fans don't really know the person that they are a fan of".

Basically what I am trying to say is that really appreciate that you can tell that he is a nice guy even though he doesn't do anything to sell you the idea that he is. He doesn't hide his love for drama, or gossip, or trashy shows or and doesn't hold back from judging or being cynical, he has a moral compass but it's his own and it's not for show or to gain any sympathy.

I think that what Ian said is true and it's impossible to know and to love someone unconditionally as a fan just by watching them through a screen, and my love is conditional, but what I can say is that what I have seen so far I really liked lol.

I think that people like Ian or Anthony are so difficult to come by! I'd talk more about how much I like them, but I want these posts to stay short so, yeah

Happy birthday to Ian!

[prongsandpetals]

no one asked for this but i’m saying it anyway because i am tired of this grandpa.

i dont hate jegulus or their shippers. personally, it doesnt make sense to me and my moral compass trickles into fiction meaning i dont have much interest in any of the slytherins. it could also be the fact that when people would create oc’s for james in their fics 10 yrs ago and made lily a raging bitch id be fighting them all in the comments- a fight or flight response that now has spread to jegulus- but thats neither here nor there. it brings people joy and they are fictional characters, and it doesnt physically hurt anyone!

but there is something to be said about some of the less savoury implications it has had on the fandom. it feels as though jily is in its own subfandom sort of pushed to the side, leaving two mlm ships to dominate. unfortunately a lottt of female characters have been forgotten or pushed aside because of this. a lot of people who joined the fandom not that long ago either dont know or forget that this fandom was not built on either wolfstar (who i love), or jegulus. yes, they popularised them, but this fandom has revolved around jily for over 10 years. not to mention many of these fics were written from lilys pov, meaning there was so much more depth put into the girls characters. to erase this is to erase the fandoms history.

the diversifying of characters is something amazing that has come more recently with the popularisation of the fandom and thats one of the good parts!! however if someone still views aaron taylor johnson as their james, that doesn’t make them a racist - the man has been james since at least 2006.

another (smaller) thing ive seen is someone will post a song or a photo and attribute it to a jily moment with harry that we can realistically see happening canonically and a comment will say something along the lines of: “this but its how james felt when regulus (insert something that did not happen here)” idk if its the autism but god those always get me a little bit, especially when it includes harry.

similarly, it feels as though people who ship jily are assumed to be less progressive. as a lesbian jily shipper i can’t disagree more. just because a ship is a straight ship does not make it a bad ship - i think we can all agree there are so many amazing LGBTQ+ ships out there now for everyone to enjoy. it does feel quite strange to me to place the two characters who created the child that there are seven books about into different ships, but people like them so its chill!! but when its just complete eradication or discontent with the canon ship… ;(

i also think that to have jegulus be endgame (except aus), a lot of james’s insanely important character traits literally HAVE to be erased. his hatred for death eaters and fight for justice, his unending loyalty to his friends - especially sirius- his black and white view on right and wrong, all of these traits become warped and stretched when it comes to jegulus. of course there isnt much canon to go off of so when people disregard it entirely i can understand it to a degree. but when you erase the important canon points we have on their characters, we are basically just creating oc’s with real characters names.

another thing that i find irksome is the fetishisation of these mlm ships- if youre gonna ship two men together do it right!! why are you calling regulus a cute little baby victim and james a big strong protector!! let them be complex and messy or dont do it at all! not to mention the erasure of a lot of wlw ships... lowkey gives girl who has gay boy best friend that thinks lesbians are weird… anyways off topic! ive heard people say its not fetishisation, its because the female characters arent written with depth- that’s why people read jegulus and wolfstar! okay? go give the girls some depth? regulus is a character we basically know nothing about canonically and youve turned him into a fully fleshed character who is now a lot of peoples favourite - it can be done with the girls too. there is such emphasis placed on wolfstar and jegulus for their deep, tragic love stories - and the marauders friendship in general. the gryffindor girls are right there. dorlene is right there. marylene is right there.

and if it truly werent fetishisation, i would argue that it can be a romanticisation of toxic relationships. a lot of people dislike jily because there is no “angst”. the angst is fighting in a war at 21 years old. the angst is lily and james’s differing blood statuses and the implications this has on their lives. the angst is having a prophecy hanging over their unborn child’s head that forces them into hiding. the angst is being betrayed by their best friend, leading them to sacrifice themselves for their family and the wizarding world. the angst is literally right there, but because their relationship is healthy and happy- one of the only things in their lives that is not full of pain- they are deemed boring.

again, i dont hate jegulus. i especially dont dislike anyone who likes the ship and gets something out of it. but there is so much change this fandom has gone through since their introduction and popularisation that has made interacting with the fandom as a whole almost unbearable sometimes, and thats what i do hate.

all in all, multishippers definitely have the most fun.

[moonlitstoriess]

Oaths and Ashes-Lorcan x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: Bound by oaths to Maeve and haunted by the bond he fears, Lorcan clings to loyalty as a shield against his own heart. But when a mission goes awry, forcing him to choose between duty and his mate, the cracks in his resolve begin to show. In the shadows of betrayal and pain, will love rise from the ashes?

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, manipulation, physical injury, toxic loyalty, and themes of betrayal. Angst with no fluff and an uncertain end.

A/n: Got this random idea for a Lorcan fanfic and thought why not? Anyway you have been warned, enjoy 😘

See masterlist

The outpost was eerily quiet, save for the distant howl of the wind outside. The cold stone walls did little to keep the chill at bay, and the fire in the hearth burned low, its feeble warmth barely reaching the center of the room. She stood by the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, watching the snow swirl and dance in the night.

Lorcan sat across the room, sharpening one of his blades with slow, deliberate movements. The metallic scrape echoed in the silence, grating and purposeful, as if he was daring her to speak first. He didn’t look at her.

“Another mission done,” she said, her voice low, breaking the stillness.

“Hm.” The sound was dismissive, his focus never wavering from the blade in his hands.

She turned, leaning against the windowsill, her arms dropping to her sides. “Is that all you have to say?”

His dark eyes flicked up briefly before returning to his task. “What else is there to say? We survived. That’s enough.”

The coldness in his tone cut deeper than she’d expected, and her jaw tightened. “You don’t think it’s worth talking about? The fact that it was another trap? That Maeve sent us into another gods-damned death mission?”

“You’re alive,” he said flatly. “That’s what matters.”

“Barely,” she snapped, taking a step toward him. “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it? As long as we’re breathing, it’s fine. Just another day serving Maeve like the obedient dogs we are.”

His hand stilled, the blade catching the light as he set it down. When he looked up at her, his gaze was cold, calculating. “If you’re not cut out for this, maybe you shouldn’t have sworn the oath.”

The words landed like a blow, and she staggered back a step, her chest tightening. “You think I want this? You think I wanted to swear myself to her?”

“Did someone force you?” he asked, his voice sharp, mocking. “No? Then don’t complain about the choices you made.”

Her breath hitched, and she turned away, unable to look at him. The sting of his words mixed with the weight of her anger and exhaustion, threatening to choke her.

“I should’ve known,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

He stood abruptly, the scrape of the chair against the floor loud in the silence. “Don’t presume to know what I care about,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Then tell me,” she said, whirling to face him, her eyes blazing. “Tell me why you’re so gods-damned loyal to her. Why you follow her orders without question, even when you know it’s killing us. What is it, Lorcan? What keeps you chained to her like a dog?”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she shot back, stepping closer, her voice shaking with anger and something rawer. “Because I’m standing here, breaking myself for this—for you—and you won’t even look at me.”

He flinched at the accusation, but the mask of indifference remained firmly in place. “Don’t make this about me,” he said coldly. “You’re not here for me. You’re here because you swore the same oath I did.”

“And that’s all I am to you? Another oath? Another pawn in Maeve’s games?”

His silence was answer enough.

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with unspoken words and frayed emotions. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to speak even as her heart ached. “You can’t keep doing this, Lorcan. Pushing me away, shutting me out. It’s not going to make the bond disappear.”

His expression darkened, his lips pulling into a tight line. “The bond doesn’t matter,” he said harshly. “It doesn’t mean anything. Not to me.”

The words were a dagger to her chest, and she staggered back as if he’d physically struck her.

He saw the hurt flash across her face and immediately hated himself for it, but he didn’t take the words back. He couldn’t. Not when the truth was so much harder to face.

“Fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then neither do I.”

Before he could respond, she turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Lorcan stood there, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, the weight of his words crashing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache spreading through his chest.

For the first time in centuries, he felt something dangerously close to regret.

But Lorcan was too stubborn to let go of his pride. She would understand at some point. That he is not meant to have a mate.

The bond, while recently discovered by the both of them, lay unacknowledged by either. Though he could see how much the female whom he has known for so long is trying to create something out of this.

But it would be useless. Lorcan knew it. He was not meant to have a mate. How could one ever have a mate after walking a lonely road for so long? Too much blood, too many sins on his hands.

Besides, he was too much of a monster to even know anything outside of pain, bloodshed, loss and anger. His shadows, his demons constantly consumed him and that was enough to draw him away from everyone. Including her.

—————

Y/n had loved him for as long as she could remember. Well, maybe not from the very start because the way they met wasn’t quite under the best conditions.

She was a rebel, part of a secret organization that went against those in power. She still remembers how one hundred and fifty years ago, she was captured by The Cadre and brought to Doranelle.

There, under Maeve’s orders she was questioned. Fenrys and Gavriel constantly tried going the diplomatic way and ease her into talking while Lorcan and Rowan would just vote to have her tortured.

Y/n smiled at the memory.

Though they all started at the wrong foot, eventually she grew closer with the males, even going as far as to prove her usefulness to Maeve and swearing a blood oath, a choice she has come to very much regret.

The boys see her as a part of them now. A younger sister and a very capable fighter with a unique power.

But Lorcan…..he has always been this way and not just towards her but to the others too. It just hurt a little more because she unfortunately grew to deeply care for him.

That is why, on one random day when both her and Lorcan found out about their bond was also the moment all her dreams with him came crashing down.

He said very hurtful things that day, how he would never accept it. How he will never even acknowledge it and neither should she.

Y/n tried, she really tried to get through to him but alas, everyone has a breaking point. And yesterday was the final straw for her.

How much longer is that prick going to choose Maeve over his mate? His fucking mate!!

How much longer is he going to follow every order of that poisonous queen and defend her in every argument?

It hurt….and she was tired. Tired of trying to get through to him. She has been doing that from the moment they met and now it was time to stop.

Y/n sighed as she cleared her mind, put on her stoic mask, straightened her shoulders and entered the sitting room of Doranelle’s Grand Stone Palace, designed specifically to fit the taste of her bitchy majesty, Queen Maeve.

Upon entrance however, she noticed that the queen is yet to arrive. Rowan, Fenrys and Gavriel were all scattered around the room, with the silver haired warrior standing next to the gigantic windows and watching the view over Doranelle and the latter two sitting on opposite armchairs.

Lorcan was nowhere to be seen but, she would not concern herself with the thoughts of him.

"Y/n! Finally you are here." Gavriel's voice brought her back as she looked to see all three of them looked straight at her.

Y/n offered a tight smile to Gavriel as she moved further into the room. Fenrys shot her a grin, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Let me guess, Lorcan was brooding too much, and you needed a break?”

Y/n snorted, pulling off her gloves and tossing them onto a side table. “More like I was brooding, and he needed a break.”

Rowan turned from the window, his piercing gaze scanning her face. His sharp instincts probably caught the flicker of tension in her shoulders, but he said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head. “How was the mission?”

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Standard Maeve nonsense. Get in, retrieve the target, fight off a few surprises along the way. Nothing we haven’t done a hundred times before.”

“Yet you look like you’ve been through hell,” Fenrys said, leaning forward in his chair. “What happened out there?”

Y/n hesitated, feeling their eyes on her. She knew they cared, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the emotional storm that had brewed between her and Lorcan. “The usual,” she said finally. “Maeve’s intelligence wasn’t exactly accurate. There was an ambush.”

Gavriel frowned. “An ambush? Were you injured?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said quickly. “We managed.”

“You managed?” Fenrys repeated, a skeptical brow arching. “Sounds like there’s more to that story.”

“There isn’t,” Y/n said firmly, brushing past him and sinking into one of the chairs. “It’s over now. That’s all that matters.”

The males exchanged glances, their concern evident, but they didn’t press further. Instead, Fenrys leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Well, next time, try not to steal all the excitement. We’ve been stuck here dealing with Maeve’s mood swings. Honestly, I’d take an ambush over her any day.”

Y/n allowed herself a small chuckle. “Careful, Fenrys. She might hear you.”

“Let her,” Fenrys said with a smirk. “I live to irritate her.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “You live to irritate everyone.”

“True,” Fenrys admitted, grinning. “But I do it so well.”

The light banter was a welcome distraction, and Y/n felt some of the tension in her chest ease. For a moment, it was almost enough to forget the weight of the bond, the mission, and Lorcan’s cold words. Almost.

The grand double doors swung open with a creak, and the room fell silent as Maeve swept in, her dark hair gleaming and her presence commanding as ever. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering briefly on Y/n before flicking to the others.

“Good,” Maeve said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. “You’re all here.”

Y/n straightened in her seat, instinctively falling into the poised composure Maeve demanded. But then her heart sank as another figure stepped into the room behind the queen.

Lorcan.

His towering presence was as dark and imposing as ever, but it was the way he stood at Maeve’s side, slightly behind her like a shadow, that made Y/n’s stomach churn. He looked as though he belonged there, loyal and unyielding, his gaze sweeping over the room without a flicker of acknowledgment in her direction.

Fenrys stiffened, his usual easygoing demeanor vanishing in an instant. Rowan’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. Gavriel was the only one who spoke, his voice calm but tense. “Maeve. Lorcan. What’s the occasion?”

Maeve’s smile was sharp, predatory. “A new directive,” she said, her gaze landing on Y/n. “But first, I’d like to hear about your little adventure.”

Y/n clenched her fists, forcing herself to meet Maeve’s piercing gaze. “The mission was completed successfully,” she said evenly. “We retrieved the artifact and neutralized the threats.”

Maeve’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes glittered with something that made Y/n’s skin crawl. “Good. I expected no less.”

Lorcan said nothing, his face carved from stone, but his silence was louder than any words. It echoed in the room, in her chest, as Maeve began to speak of their next orders, her voice a cold melody weaving a new web of commands. Y/n barely heard her, her focus splintered by the man standing silently by the queen’s side, the mate who had once again chosen duty over her.

“And you,” Maeve said, her voice honeyed and venomous all at once. “I have a special task for you.”

Y/n’s spine straightened, her expression unreadable, her mask firmly in place. “Of course, my queen.”

Maeve tilted her head, a mockery of affection flickering in her eyes. “I’ve decided to send you on a mission of utmost importance. Alone.”

The room tensed. Fenrys shifted in his seat, his golden eyes flicking to Y/n with concern. Gavriel’s brows furrowed, his mouth opening as if to protest, but one glance from Maeve silenced him. Even Rowan, stoic as ever, allowed his jaw to tighten, his fingers flexing where they rested at his side.

She was never sent on a mission alone. It was always with one of the members because 1. Maeve, no matter how much she pretended, never trusted y/n and 2. The males would always manage to protest against her going alone, though it is not something she hasn't done before.

Y/n didn’t flinch. She didn’t allow even the faintest crack in her calm facade. “What would you have me do?”

Maeve’s smile widened, pleased with her composure. “There is a rebel camp in the northern cliffs. They’ve been meddling in my affairs, intercepting important supplies. I want you to dismantle them—destroy their operation entirely.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Rowan finally broke it, his voice carefully measured. “The northern cliffs are treacherous, especially this time of year.”

“Which is precisely why I’m entrusting this to her,” Maeve said smoothly, her gaze never leaving y/n. “She has proven herself capable time and time again. Haven’t you?”

Y/n inclined her head. “I’ll see it done.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Lorcan’s face, but he stayed silent, his broad shoulders stiff. Fenrys leaned forward, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “With all due respect, this is suicide. Send at least one of us with her.”

Maeve’s expression hardened, her voice cutting like a blade. “Did I ask for your opinion, Fenrys?”

He clenched his jaw, leaning back in his chair but shooting y/n a glance filled with unspoken worry. Gavriel tried next, his tone more diplomatic. “She is capable, yes, but even the most skilled warriors can be overwhelmed. Perhaps a small team would ensure success.”

Maeve’s gaze snapped to him, her smile razor-sharp. “Are you questioning my decision, lion?”

“No, my queen,” Gavriel said softly, bowing his head.

Maeve turned back to y/n, her tone almost sweet again. “I trust you will not fail me.”

“I won’t,” y/n said evenly, ignoring the tension radiating from every male in the room.

“Good,” Maeve said, stepping closer, her presence suffocating. “You leave at dawn.”

Without another word, Maeve swept out of the room, her dark gown trailing behind her like the shadow of death itself. And Lorcan behind her.

As the door closed, the room erupted.

But even through all the worries, all the scoldings, all the words said by the three males, her brothers, y/n's mind was only filled with the sense of betrayal.

He didn't even protest. Didn't even stand against Maeve. Didn't even offer to join y/n. His mate.

This has to be some cruel joke fate is playing on her.

----------

Y/n was alone, methodically packing her gear. Her hands worked quickly, though her mind was a maelstrom. She refused to dwell on the danger of the mission, on the implications of Maeve sending her alone. This was just another test, another way to prove she could survive whatever hell was thrown her way.

A knock sounded at her door. She didn’t bother turning, knowing who it was. “What do you want, Lorcan?”

The door opened without her invitation, and he stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind him. He didn’t speak at first, his dark eyes scanning her as if trying to decipher her thoughts. Finally, he said, “You shouldn’t go.”

She didn’t stop packing. “Not your decision to make.”

“It’s reckless,” he snapped, his voice low and sharp. “Maeve’s playing games, and you’re letting her.”

Y/n spun to face him, her eyes blazing. “Letting her? Did you not hear me back there? She gave me an order, Lorcan. What would you have me do, defy her?”

His silence was damning.

“Exactly,” she said bitterly, turning back to her pack. “You’d rather I die proving myself than risk questioning her.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice softening, but she rounded on him.

“Fair?” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. “What part of this is fair, Lorcan? The bond? This gods-damned oath? Maeve holding our lives in her hands? I don’t see you fighting for anything better.”

“I’m not the one running into death for her approval,” he shot back, his tone colder now, defensive.

“No,” she said quietly, the words cutting deeper because they were true. “You’re just the one standing by while she destroys us.”

He flinched as if struck, but she didn’t stop. “You chose her again, Lorcan. You always choose her.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “She is my queen.”

“And I’m your mate!” she yelled, the words tumbling out before she could stop them, raw and exposed. “Or does that mean nothing to you?”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His dark eyes burned with emotion, but when he finally spoke, his voice was icy. “It doesn’t change anything. And we are not mates."

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her like a physical blow. “You really are a coward, Lorcan.”

Before he could respond, she shoved past him, her pack slung over her shoulder, and walked out the door. She didn’t look back, even when she thought she heard him whisper her name.

When she reached the stables, she mounted her horse and rode into the night, the frigid wind biting at her skin. But the cold was nothing compared to the ache in her chest, the one that reminded her she was truly, irrevocably alone.

The northern cliffs were as treacherous as y/n had anticipated. The jagged terrain, biting winds, and freezing temperatures made every step a trial. Her days were spent navigating narrow paths carved into the mountainside, her sharp eyes scanning for signs of movement. At night, she set up meager camps, always alert for threats, her weapons and magic ready for use. Sleep came in fleeting moments, her instincts honed to the dangers lurking in the shadows.

It had been five days since she left the fortress. Five days of cold, isolation, and silence. She told herself that she didn’t mind the solitude—it was better than the suffocating weight of Lorcan’s words or the betrayal she’d felt when Maeve’s command echoed through the room.

Still, the mission felt… off. She’d found no sign of the rebel camp Maeve had described. The cliffside paths, though rugged, showed no indication of regular travel, and the forests below were eerily still. It was as if the cliffs themselves were abandoned, yet Maeve had insisted that rebels were causing disruption in the area.

“She sent me here for a reason,” y/n thought bitterly, though she wasn’t sure if it was to succeed or fail.

On the sixth day, y/n stumbled upon a narrow gorge that seemed to fit the description of a potential rebel hideout. The entrance was obscured by thick overgrowth, and the cliffs loomed high above, casting long shadows over the path. She hesitated, her instincts prickling. This was the first sign of anything remotely suspicious since she’d arrived.

Cautiously, she advanced, her sword unsheathed as her senses sharpened instinctively. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. Blood.

She moved swiftly, keeping to the edges of the path. It led to a clearing—a small encampment, or what was left of one. The ground was littered with debris, tents torn apart, supplies scattered as if a storm had swept through. But it wasn’t a storm. The claw marks gouged into the rock told her that something—or someone—had done this.

Kneeling, she examined a broken weapon—a sword, its blade snapped in half. Blood stained the hilt, fresh enough that it hadn’t dried entirely. Her pulse quickened. She was being watched.

The sound of a snapping twig behind her made her whirl, sword raised, ready to strike—but nothing was there.

Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into her from the shadows. She forced herself to stay calm, to think. If this was a rebel camp, they wouldn’t leave it undefended. If they were gone, where had they gone? And why did the destruction look staged?

Her heart sank as realization dawned. This wasn’t a rebel camp. This was a trap.

The first arrow whistled past her ear, embedding itself into the rock behind her. She ducked instinctively, rolling into a crouch as more arrows followed, peppering the ground where she’d stood. Her claws gleamed in the dim light as she shot forward, seeking cover behind a crumbled tent.

Voices echoed through the gorge—low, guttural commands that sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t see them yet, but they were closing in.

Y/n moved quickly, her breaths steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She darted from cover to cover, her sword slicing through any obstacle in her way. The first attacker emerged—a tall man clad in dark leathers, his face obscured by a hood. He lunged at her with a blade, but she sidestepped, her dark magic aimed right at his chest. He fell with a gurgled cry.

Another came from the right, and she barely dodged the strike aimed at her side. She spun, driving her small but sharp knife into his arm and kicking him backward. But for every one she took down, two more appeared.

Soon, she was surrounded.

Y/n fought like the rebel she was, every movement precise and lethal. She used the terrain to her advantage, leaping onto rocks and darting through narrow paths. 

But there were too many.

An arrow grazed her leg, the sharp pain momentarily throwing her off balance. A sword nicked her arm, blood staining her sleeve. Her breaths came heavier now, her strength waning.

One of the attackers—a burly man with a scar down his face—stepped forward, a cruel grin spreading across his features. “The Queen sends her regards,” he sneered, raising his blade.

Y/n’s heart sank. Maeve had sent her here to die.

The realization stole the last of her resolve. She faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

The scarred man’s fist connected with her stomach, and she doubled over, the air knocked from her lungs. Before she could recover, another blow landed against her temple, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Her vision blurred, and the world tilted as she tried to push herself up. Hands grabbed her, wrenching her arms behind her back. She struggled, but she was too weak, too drained.

A final strike—a boot slamming into her ribs—left her gasping for air. The edges of her vision darkened, her body refusing to obey her commands.

As she was dragged to her knees, she heard the scarred man chuckle. “Tie her up. The Queen wants her alive—at least for now.”

Y/n’s head lolled to the side, her strength gone. The world around her faded into darkness, the sounds of her captors’ laughter echoing in her ears.

Her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was bitter and raw.

She sent me here to die, and I have no one left to fight for.

---------

The first week of her absence, Lorcan told himself he was being irrational. She was skilled, ruthless even, and capable of handling herself. Maeve had sent her on this mission for a reason, and despite his misgivings, he trusted y/n to see it through. He buried his worry beneath grueling training sessions and the cold edge of duty, convincing himself that she would return victorious, her sharp wit ready to cut him down the moment he dared to question her ability.

By the second week, unease began to fester. There had been no word from her—no missives sent, no whispers of success or failure. Maeve brushed off his inquiries with a dismissive wave, her cold smile tightening when he pressed. “She’s completing her task, Lorcan. You wouldn’t dare doubt her, would you?”

The third week unraveled him. He had spent every waking moment pacing the grounds, his chest constricting with an unbearable weight. Nightmares plagued him when he did manage to sleep, visions of her broken body haunting his mind. He snapped at everyone—Gavriel, Fenrys, even Rowan—driving wedges into bonds already frayed by his aloofness.

Now, a full month had passed, and there was no room left for denial.

“She’s dead,” Fenrys growled, pacing the chamber like a caged wolf. “Or worse.” His golden eyes were wild, his usually jovial demeanor replaced with simmering fury. “We all know Maeve doesn’t send anyone on a mission like this without an ulterior motive.”

Gavriel sat at the table, his head bowed, his fists clenched. “We don’t know that,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed the hope he was struggling to hold onto.

Rowan leaned against the far wall, his sharp features carved with tension. “Have you noticed Maeve hasn’t mentioned her once since she left? Not a word about the mission or her progress. That’s deliberate.”

Lorcan stood apart from them, his back to the room, staring out the window at the moonlit forest. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, and his nails had bitten into his palms, drawing blood.

“She’s alive,” he said at last, his voice low and trembling with suppressed rage.

Fenrys stopped pacing, glaring at him. “You don’t know that. You have no idea what she’s endured out there—alone—while you stood by and let her go.”

The accusation struck like a blade, and Lorcan whirled around, his black eyes blazing. “You think I don’t know that?” he snarled. “You think I don’t feel it every second of every gods-damned day?”

The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension.

“What are you saying?” Gavriel asked, his voice cautious.

Lorcan’s hands trembled as he raked them through his hair, his composure shattering. “She’s my mate,” he admitted, the words spilling out like poison. “She’s my mate, and I let her go. I chose Maeve over her because I was too much of a coward to—” His voice broke, and he turned away, his shoulders heaving.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“You’re telling us this now?” Rowan’s voice was cold, laced with anger. “After she’s been missing for a month?”

“I thought she’d come back,” Lorcan said hoarsely. “I thought she’d be fine. She’s strong. She’s—” His voice cracked, and he slammed a fist against the wall. “I failed her. I failed her because I didn’t want to admit what she meant to me.”

Fenrys sneered, his rage barely contained. “And now she’s out there, suffering gods know what, because of you.”

Despite their anger, the Cadre couldn’t abandon her. She was one of their own—or at least, she had been before Maeve’s manipulations twisted their loyalties.

Rowan took charge, his strategic mind cutting through the chaos. “We’ll have to do this without Maeve finding out. If she even suspects we’re undermining her, she’ll punish us all.”

“And y/n,” Gavriel added grimly.

Lorcan barely heard them, his mind consumed with images of her—alone, wounded, dying. He couldn’t let himself think she might already be dead. If she was gone, the bond would have snapped, wouldn’t it? But it hadn’t. It was still there, faint but unbroken, like a fragile thread connecting him to her.

“We’ll start at the cliffs,” Rowan continued. “That’s where she was sent. If Maeve wanted her gone, she wouldn’t make it easy to find her body—or what’s left of it.”

Fenrys shot Lorcan a glare. “You’d better hope she’s alive, or I’ll make you wish you’d died with her.”

The journey to the cliffs was brutal, the terrain unforgiving. They traveled under the cover of night, avoiding Maeve’s spies and using every ounce of their combined skill to remain undetected.

They did not rest. Not even once. And even if they did, Lorcan knew that he would leave his brothers behind to find her. He would not rest until he found her. Hopefully, alive because if not....

Lorcan did not want to think about that and the hell he would raise if that were the case.

When they reached the cliffs, the sight that greeted them confirmed their worst fears. Blood stained the ground, long since dried, and the remnants of a camp lay scattered, eerily quiet.

“She was here,” Gavriel said, his voice tight with anguish.

Lorcan knelt, his fingers brushing the bloodied earth. It felt wrong—cold and empty, as if the life had been drained from the place. His chest tightened, and the bond tugged at him, faint but insistent.

“She’s close,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “She’s still alive.”

The Cadre exchanged wary glances, but they followed him deeper into the gorge, their weapons drawn.

They found her at dawn.

She was chained to a rock in a dark cavern, her body battered and broken. Her clothes were torn, her skin marred with bruises and cuts, and her breathing was shallow. Her once-bright eyes were closed, her face pale and gaunt.

Lorcan froze, his heart shattering at the sight.

“She’s alive,” Fenrys said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lorcan didn’t wait. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he broke the chains binding her. “y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, wildling, wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, her gaze met his. There was no recognition in her eyes, only pain and exhaustion.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As he cradled her broken body in his arms, the weight of his guilt crashed down on him. He had failed her in every way possible, but he wouldn’t fail her again.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Rowan said, his voice tight. “Before Maeve realizes what we’ve done.”

Lorcan nodded, his jaw set with determination. He would burn the world for her, tear it apart piece by piece if he had to.

And when Maeve found out, he would be ready.

Lorcan cradled y/n against his chest as they made their way out of the cavern, her body limp and fragile in his arms. Her shallow breathing was the only reassurance he had that she was still alive. His every instinct screamed at him to run, to put as much distance as possible between them and this gods-forsaken place, but he knew better. They weren’t safe yet.

The bond tugged at him, a faint but insistent reminder of her fragility. It was his lifeline now, urging him forward through the oppressive darkness of the cliffs.

Rowan took point, his sharp gaze scanning the shadows ahead. Gavriel brought up the rear, his sword drawn and his senses on high alert. Fenrys prowled beside Lorcan, his golden eyes flashing with barely-contained fury.

“She’s too quiet,” Fenrys muttered, his voice low and tense. “We need to move faster.”

“She’s breathing,” Lorcan snapped, though his voice wavered. “That’s all that matters right now.”

The moment they stepped out of the cavern into the pale light of dawn, the attack came.

A hail of arrows rained down from the cliffs above, forcing them to scatter. Lorcan twisted his body, shielding y/n with his own as he dove behind a jagged boulder.

“Move!” Rowan barked, his wind magic deflecting the arrows with a gust that sent them clattering harmlessly to the ground.

The enemy poured down the rocky slopes—Maeve’s minions, cloaked in shadow and armed to the teeth. Their feral grins gleamed in the dim light, their eyes alight with cruel intent.

“They know we have her!” Fenrys shouted, drawing his twin blades.

Gavriel let out a low growl, his lion-like strength cutting through the first wave of attackers. “We’ll have to fight our way out!”

Lorcan’s grip on y/n tightened as he pressed his back against the boulder, his mind racing. He couldn’t fight—not with her in his arms—but he also couldn’t let her go.

Rowan appeared at his side, his ice-blue eyes blazing. “Can you hold them off while I take her?”

“No,” Lorcan snapped. The thought of letting her out of his grasp was unbearable. “You clear the path. I’ll carry her.”

Rowan hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Stay close.”

Chaos erupted as the cadre launched themselves into the fray. Rowan’s wind and ice magic tore through the ranks of their attackers, sending bodies flying into the jagged rocks. Fenrys moved like a shadow, his blades flashing as he cut down anyone who got too close. Gavriel fought with brutal precision, his strikes swift and lethal.

But their enemies kept coming, waves of them spilling out of the cliffs like a swarm.

Lorcan’s every step was a battle. He ducked and weaved through the melee, his muscles burning from the effort of carrying y/n’s dead weight while avoiding strikes. His sword remained sheathed—his focus was entirely on her.

“Lorcan, behind you!” Fenrys shouted.

Lorcan twisted just in time to see a dagger aimed at his back. He snarled, releasing a pulse of his power that sent the attacker sprawling. The effort cost him, though—his legs trembled as he stumbled forward, the weight of y/n and his exhaustion dragging him down.

A group of Maeve’s soldiers broke through Rowan’s defenses, their eyes locked on Lorcan and y/n.

“Over my dead body,” Lorcan growled, shifting her weight slightly as he braced himself for the charge.

But before they could reach him, a silver blur streaked past—Fenrys. He leapt into the fray, his movements a deadly dance as he tore through the soldiers with savage efficiency.

“You’re slowing us down,” Fenrys barked as he dispatched the last of them.

“Shut up and fight,” Lorcan snarled back.

Rowan’s sharp whistle cut through the chaos. “Now! Move!”

The cadre regrouped, their enemies momentarily scattered. Rowan’s magic formed a protective barrier of ice and wind, giving them a few precious seconds to retreat.

“We’re not going to hold them off forever,” Gavriel warned as they sprinted toward the treeline.

“We just need to make it far enough to lose them,” Rowan said, though his tone was grim.

Lorcan’s chest burned with every breath, but he didn’t stop. Y/n’s head lolled against his shoulder, her face pale and bloodied. Hold on, he willed her silently. Just hold on.

As they reached the forest, Rowan dropped the barrier, and the group plunged into the shadows of the trees. The dense undergrowth slowed their pursuers, giving the cadre a chance to put some distance between them.

“We need to split up,” Rowan said. “Fenrys, take Gavriel and lead them away. Lorcan and I will take y/n and head for the rendezvous point.”

Fenrys opened his mouth to argue, but a single look from Rowan silenced him.

“Go,” Rowan ordered.

With a growl, Fenrys and Gavriel peeled off, drawing the enemy’s attention.

The silence that followed was deafening. Only the sound of Lorcan’s ragged breathing and the faint rustle of leaves broke the stillness as he and Rowan made their way deeper into the forest.

When they finally stopped, Lorcan sank to his knees, cradling y/n as though she might disappear if he let go.

“She’s alive,” Rowan said, though his voice was heavy with doubt. “But barely.”

Lorcan couldn’t respond. His hands trembled as he brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from her face. Guilt and rage warred within him, threatening to consume him whole.

“We’ll get her back,” Rowan said, his voice firm. “But you need to keep it together.”

Lorcan’s jaw tightened as he looked up at Rowan. “If she dies…” His voice broke, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“She won’t,” Rowan said, his eyes fierce. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”

Lorcan nodded, swallowing hard as he forced himself to his feet. He wouldn’t let her die. Not like this. Not when he had failed her so utterly.

And Maeve… Maeve would pay for this.

------

The first thing Y/N registered was the scent of wood smoke and herbs, mingling with the faint, earthy aroma of rain-soaked soil. The air was warm, almost stifling, and it felt heavier than it should have. Her body ached with a dull, persistent throb, as though she had been wrung out and left to dry.

She blinked against the dim light filtering through a small, cracked window, her vision swimming before settling on the modest, cramped interior of a hut. The walls were made of rough-hewn logs, the roof thatched, and a single table sat in the corner, cluttered with vials and bandages.

Where am I?

The thought was fleeting, overridden by a sudden awareness of weight—solid, grounding, and entirely foreign—pressing against her. She shifted slightly, hissing at the pull of her tender muscles, and turned her head to look down.

Her breath caught.

Lorcan.

His head was resting on her stomach, his dark hair falling in unruly strands over his face. His massive frame was hunched over, as though even in sleep, he couldn’t quite relax. One arm was draped over her waist, the other gripping the edge of the makeshift bed she lay on. His hold was tight, almost desperate, as if he feared she would vanish if he let go.

For a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—something in her chest softened. He looked so unlike himself, so vulnerable and human, and it was a stark contrast to the cold, stoic warrior she knew.

But then it all came rushing back.

The mission. The ambush. The betrayal. His cruel words.

Her face hardened, and a sharp burst of anger surged through her. How dare he?

Without thinking, she raised her hand and swatted the back of his head.

Lorcan jolted awake instantly, his head snapping up as his body went rigid, his instincts kicking in. His hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t there, his eyes wild and dark, scanning for danger.

Then his gaze landed on her, and he froze.

“Y/N?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, raw with disbelief.

Her eyes, dull and tired, met his. “Surprised to see me alive?” she asked, her tone cutting but drained of its usual bite.

Relief flooded his features, followed quickly by a maelstrom of emotions she couldn’t decipher—shock, guilt, anger at himself, and something she wasn’t ready to name.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud would make it real.

“No thanks to you,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to sit up.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, his hands moving to steady her. “You’re not ready—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, shrugging him off.

She wasn’t fine. Her body screamed in protest, and her head swam, but she forced herself upright, ignoring the way his hands hovered near her, ready to catch her if she faltered.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice clipped.

Lorcan cleared his throat, straightening as he rubbed the back of his neck. “A healer’s hut. A friend of Fenrys’—a trusted one. It’s safe here, for now.”

“For now,” she repeated bitterly. Her gaze swept the room, noting its sparse furnishings and the faint smell of damp wood.

“You’ve been unconscious for two weeks,” Lorcan continued cautiously, as if afraid of her reaction. “We’ve been... waiting for you to wake up.”

“Two weeks,” she echoed, her tone flat. “And where are the others?”

“Rowan and Gavriel went back to ensure Maeve hasn’t caught on to our escape, or atleast somehow keep the situation stable.” he explained. “Fenrys stayed with us.”

“Of course, Fenrys did.” She exhaled sharply, leaning back against the headboard.

Lorcan flinched at her tone but didn’t argue. “I—”

“You what?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “What could you possibly have to say, Lorcan?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might retreat behind his usual walls. But then he surprised her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and rough. “For everything.”

She didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t have the energy to yell or argue, not anymore. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable.

“You said Maeve was your queen,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “You said you’d always choose her over me. So why are you here, Lorcan?”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “I was wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was so gods-damned wrong. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness—hells, I don’t even deserve to be here. But I—” He hesitated, his hands curling into fists. “I couldn’t lose you. Not like that.”

Her laugh was hollow, devoid of humor. “Congratulations, Lorcan. You didn’t lose me. But what’s left of me isn’t much, so I hope you’re satisfied.”

Her words hit him like a blow, and the guilt in his eyes deepened. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “It’s true. I’m tired, Lorcan. I’m tired of fighting, tired of trying, tired of—” She broke off, her hands trembling as she clenched the blanket.

Lorcan dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hands hovering near hers but not quite touching. “I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling. “I know I failed you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But please, y/n... please don’t give up. Not now. Not when you’re here, alive.”

She looked away, her jaw tight, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll fix this,” he said desperately. “I don’t know how, but I’ll fix it. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it on my life.”

“Words,” she muttered, her tone laced with exhaustion. “They’re just words, Lorcan.”

He bowed his head, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her dismissal. But he didn’t leave. He stayed there, on his knees, as though the very act of being near her was penance.

And for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, oppressive, and filled with everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

Eventually, she lay back down, turning her face away from him. “I wish to be alone.”

He nodded, his throat working as he forced himself to his feet. “I’ll be right here,” he said softly, retreating to his chair.

She didn’t respond, and as her breathing evened out, Lorcan watched her, his heart breaking anew. He had been a fool, and now the woman who held his soul was a shadow of herself. Someone who just went through so much trauma while he sat aside and watched it happen.

His y/n was gone, the female in front of him was an empty shell.

And it was all his fault.

———————————————————————

[ao3-oner]

Cobalt is a hard, lustrous metal that is only found within the Earth's crust in combination with other elements. It is light gray in its isolated form, but when ground down or combined, it produces a vibrant blue pigment that has been used since antiquity to color porcelain and glass.

Park “Ruler” Jaehyuk was one of the five original members of Gen.G, with his debut team being the Samsung Galaxy roster that won Worlds in 2017 and was then bought by KSV E-sports. Ruler would stay with Gen.G for the team's first five years, staying long after all of his former teammates left the LCK and gaining a reputation for his fierce loyalty to both the team and the few supports he played beside.

The only other team Ruler has ever played for, excepting his appearances on Team Korea in both the 2018 and 2022 Asian Games, is Jingdong Gaming, an LPL team which he joined in 2023 following EDG Viper's return to the LCK. Before leaving for China, Ruler stated on stream that the only LCK team he ever wants to play for is Gen.G and that Gen.G is the team he hopes to retire from.

Following Ruler's instatement in 2023, JDG was wildly successful, winning the LPL in both spring and summer as well as the Mid-Season Invitational. Ruler is the second player after and only player other than Deft to achieve the feat of winning the LCK (summer 2022), the LPL (spring 2023 and summer 2023), M.S.I. (2023), and Worlds (2017).

Despite originally signing a two-year contract that would keep him for 2025, on October 27th, Ruler officially left JDG. It is yet unknown where he will sign for the upcoming season, though he has suggested that he may be looking to finally return to the LCK.

This post is part of @enarratives’ LoL Esports Elemental Series.

[gravegoer]

OMG sevika x reader who fills in for silco after he dies?? 🤍 but sevika is oddly shocked at her kindness—

Sevika's boss ꩜

i absolutely love this idea ! sevika pledging her loyalty to you whilst you pledge yours to her !! so this is how you met + how you treat her on the job.. and off (i fear silco didnt provide a safe work environment)

visit my masterlist HERE , part 2

Zaun needed a new leader, and you just so happened to be the second in line to the throne.

You had the option to throw Sevika out if you really wanted a different right hand man. But in your opinion, if she worked for SIlco; she would work for you.

You'd never met her before, only heard the things that Zaunites whispered about her on the street

" She took on three men at the last drop yesterday. I think Silco put her up to it. "

" The way she looked at me made me think I was going to meet my end. "

Silco was no gentle ruler, he was strong and fierce. You could only imagine how he treated his goons, and and only Gods know how he treated Sevika.

You sat in his office chair, displeased with the scattered papers on his desk and the old whiskey in a glass that now smelled rank.

You had called her in to have a chat, so that you knew who you were really working with. Not knowing what to expect; you watched as the door creaked open and you nervously drew in a quick breath.

In walked a tall woman, definitely over 6', obviously muscular with one prosthetic arm. Your eyes traveled up to her face, and now you knew why everyone talked about her gaze. It was steely and almost frightening. She looked you up and down with something in her eyes that you couldn't place. Her skin was littered with scars, the biggest one was smack dab across her cheek. How intimidating.

You spoke to her, firmly but gently, "As you know, I'm taking over for Silco until things can be.. sorted out-"

She cut you off with a brisk, "Get to the point."

You eyed her full lips as she said this, the gap between her teeth was more prominent when she spoke. Not to mention her husky voice, she sounded tired but with still a hint of determination.

"I'm not demoting you or anything, just so you know," you spoke while raising an eyebrow at her, "I just wanted to get to know you before I start ordering you around, y'know?"

She narrowed her eyes at this statement. Its obvious she expected you to immediately ask her to do things for you the way she did for her former boss. Always running around the city cleaning up his mess, fighting his battles. But no. You weren't Silco. There was something different in the air around you.

Now that you've officially met its time to put this girl to work !!

She was almost always available. This concerned you. If you asked for her presence she would be there within minutes. It was like she was waiting for you at the door 24/7.

This made you bring up off days to her, "You know, if you ever need time off or anything don't hesitate to ask me. I don't bite"

She was confused at your willingness to let her do nothing but sit around while you did the work. And even after you said this she never asked to be called off.

"Okay, you know what. If you're injured after a mission don't even think. About trying to leave your house," You called her in to run some errands but what she didn't tell you is that she got stabbed roughly in her side the night before.

This made her angry, did you think she was weak? You're making her take a break because she didn't do her job good enough for you? Trying to cut her pay by putting her out of work?

But no, surprisingly in the next few days you sent her out again, and when she came back you slid a hefty bag of coins her way. She questioned your ways but she wasn't complaining.

You tried never ask absurd or unnecessary things of her. If you needed to talk with someone in the city you would go down and do it yourself. She caught you out one day, talking to a shop owner about prices.

"Why the hell are you out without me."

You turned around to meet her eyes (also having to crain your neck to look up at her.) "Well, I don't need a body guard to walk around you know that right?" You said, tilting your head to the side.

She drug her hand over her face at this, "You could have asked me to do it for you, I'm free. Plus don't you know anyone could be trying to get at you? Are you an idiot?"

"I can handle myself Sevika. But if you're soo worried about me ill let you come next time," You teased before turning around to speak to the owner again.

She grumbled to herself before taking a seat in one of the old chairs behind you and crossing her arms. If you didn't know any better you would think a small embarrassed blush kissed her cheeks.

When you walked around in the streets with you she always walked behind you, looming over your shoulder. Sometimes you thought she would start barking if anyone came up to you. You slowed down a bit to match her pace before latching onto her arm.

Her body tensed at your touched and she looked down at you, though you didn't meet her gaze as you continued looking forward. The neon lights illuminating the angles of your face. She shook her head at your willingness to touch her, but didn't comment on it.

You felt the flex of her bicep when she tensed up at your fingers. Her arm was hot under your touch and you could feel the scars that littered her skin.

This became routine, when Sevika walked you home late at night she would get comfortable enough to drape her arm around your shoulder, her poncho sheltering you from the cold.

And yes, she started walking you home at night because she stayed in your office to keep you company whilst you did paperwork into the late hours. Saying, "Its the least I could do since you don't let me do it for you."

Lighting a cigarillo she sat on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. The smoke wafted from her position to your nose, the smell oddly comforting.

When you groaned and dropped your head into your hands it was her queue to get up and pull your chair out from your desk.

"Its too late, you should get home."

Sometimes you'd fall asleep in at your desk, but this was no problem. Sevika would pick you up, gently as to not disturb you and carry you to your home. And she was careful to walk through quieter places in the city so that the hustle and bustle of people didn't wake you.

And yes she tucks you in.

If you really insisted on staying to do paperwork she would grumble a few curses but stay anyway.

You were starting to grow on her. Maybe being cuter than Silco gave you some brownie points.

thank you for reading ! if you sent an ask in the past few days, don't worry, I'm getting to them all :) I appreciate all the support !! ♡♡

[rxmye]

" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[saintobio]

blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3 | epilogue

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure. 

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl. 

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies. 

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy. 

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more. 

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect. 

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated. 

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed. 

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did. 

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?” 

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.” 

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair. 

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?” 

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations. 

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh. 

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.  

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo. 

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more. 

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him. 

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity. 

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them? 

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?” 

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.” 

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?” 

Was it really that much of a shock? 

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter. 

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?” 

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.” 

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?” 

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly. 

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.” 

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out. 

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.” 

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.” 

Fuck. 

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so. 

“Sukuna?” 

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—” 

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.” 

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down. 

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed. 

This was going to be a big problem 

Just what was he thinking? 

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble” 

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.   

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted. 

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings. 

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story. 

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck. 

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch. 

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over. 

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back. 

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.” 

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.” 

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree. 

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he? 

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.” 

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?” 

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.” 

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft. 

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.” 

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“You love me.” 

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.” 

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air. 

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you. 

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes. 

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.” 

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself. 

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.” 

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side. 

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.” 

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words. 

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3,  just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage. 

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that? 

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.” 

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core. 

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.” 

This was it. 

It was happening. 

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.” 

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it. 

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt. 

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.” 

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?” 

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you. 

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that. 

You became a little paranoid. 

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him. 

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business. 

And you were somehow right. 

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived. 

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.” 

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed. 

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?” 

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?” 

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.” 

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.” 

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?” 

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.” 

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.” 

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that. 

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.” 

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!” 

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest. 

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along. 

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.” 

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!” 

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point. 

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.” 

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation. 

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.” 

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride. 

You were just scared of losing him over something like this. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips. 

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile. 

“I love you, too.” 

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along. 

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs. 

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all. 

The mere thought of it scared you. 

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him. 

[spxllcxstxr]

Northern Attitude (I) • C.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: hey!! can i request something where you’re a targaryen and you’ve been sent to speak with cregan like jacaerys did on the show, but you’re quite soft spoken and feel lowkey intimidated by all these big burly northmen. and ofc some flirting with cregan and he makes you feel safe :) -- @sarahisslytherin

Summary: In the process of assuring Winterfell’s loyalty to your mother, you get close to Lord Stark

Warnings: fem!reader, you’re the daughter of Rhaenyra but I don’t specify the father so it can be more inclusive (older than jace), alcohol and eating mentions

Word Count: 1.3k

A.N: This wasn't going to be this long and then I got so into it. I'm actually really happy with how this turned out! Not just because it's actually over 1k words, but also because i really really like it! And I hope you guys enjoy it too!!

Part I | Read the last part here!

•

The bitter cold of the North nips at your extremities even when housed inside the walls of Winterfell. This was a cold you felt right down to the bone, despite the furs your host had provided you with only hours prior when you arrived.

Since your arrival, you have occupied yourself in your chambers, flitting between the books on the shelves and the small hearth on the other side of the decent sized room.

It is not until late your host makes an appearance; matters from the Wall taking priority over the Queen's daughter. You held no ill will, knowing how important the Wall was for the Northmen closest to it.

The greeting outside of your chamber door goes smoothly; since birth you had to greet numerous Lords and Ladies, this one being no different. His charming looks, though stoic, catch you off guard. You take his offered arm before he guides you to the welcome feast.

Cregan leads you through the dark stone corridors of Winterfell, your arms intertwined as you hold onto the crook of his elbow. You feel his strong muscle through his many layers of thick fabric. Your footsteps echo along with the metallic rattling of your guards behind the two of you. The absence of conversation is comfortable, however, something you truly have not felt since the death of your Grandsire.

Beside you, Cregan practically radiates warmth which has you almost melting into his side. Despite the chill, his hands are uncovered, the palm of his hand rests on your arm, heating your covered skin beneath.

The sight of the rugged wooden doors causes you to stiffen almost immediately. The reality of your purpose for being at Winterfell cools your blood as it finally washes over you. You were here on behalf of your mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Swallowing uneasily, you attempt to calm your nerves.

Sensing your distress, Cregan leans closer to your frame. "Do not fret, Princess," He mutters kindly. "You have no one to convince except me—and I am already highly inclined to agree to your terms."

You do not spare your host a glance as your face burns. In front of you, the grand doors open, revealing a large hall and guests already rising for the two of you.

Your gaze glides over the bowing figures, all men, you notice. The only women in the hall were serving girls; stiffly standing at the ends of the room, pitchers full of presumably ale clutched in their hands.

Attempting to muster up a commanding presence was difficult when next to the Lord of Winterfell, for he commands the room with no effort. His men watch you as you continue to the other side. Their intense stares and built bodies making you nervous. Swords were strewn recklessly across their dining tables, bows and arrows litter the floor. In their eyes you were a defenseless babe crawling into a den of wolves.

The men in King’s Landing and Dragonstone were dangerous in a different way. Their sharp wit and web of lies could cut deep and kill. The men of the North, however, used their brute force and self-assured bravery to kill you just as dreadfully. Any one of these men could bloody you as you walk by them. This rattles you just as much as the plotting traitors back in King’s Landing does.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the soothing motions of Cregan's thumb tracing circles against your arm. The reassurance pulls you out of your spiral of thoughts. With your chin held high you continue to the front of the hall, the long wooden table already covered with food and goblets of wine and ale.

After a few words from both you and Cregan the feast begins and the once silent hall becomes almost deafening. There were plenty of jeers and jokes thrown around at your expense. If you had more fire in your blood like the rest of your family, you might have said something to stay their tongues.

You and Cregan make small talk, the two of you paying more attention to the plates on the table. By the time your appetite is sated the Lord of Winterfell had noticed your meek demeanor and timid glances at the drunk Northmen below.

"Pay them no mind, Princess," The warm light of the hall's hearth dance in Cregan's striking grey eyes. "These rowdy bastards lack decency after a drop of ale."

You scan Winterfell's great hall from your position at the high table. Cregan Stark's men were all in various states of disarray, though you suppose it’s only characteristic of Northerners. The room was loud, almost overwhelmingly so, with booming laughter and arguments that spanned across the tables.

"Not like Dragonstone, I presume?" At Cregan's soft yet baritone voice, heat creeps up your neck.

Your gaze turns to the Lord of Winterfell, a smile gracing his usually stoic face. "Not at all, my Lord. Dragonstone is more.."

"Boring?"

"Traditional," You finish, smile mirroring his own.

Cregan snorts. "Aye, you Southerners have quite the stick up the arse."

"Oh really now?" You lightly giggle, tilting your head as if to challenge the Northerner at your side. You drink from your goblet, the red wine sweet on your lips, eyebrows raised.

"Aye, Princess. I think you need a Northerner to invigorate your life down there."

You hum in response, the wine making your skin tingle. With your attention now solely on Cregan Stark, you feel yourself melting into comfort.

Cregan briefly pauses, looking into your eyes. They mirror an oncoming winter storm and you’re unable to look away.

“I have something to attend to, Princess. My men will escort you and your guards to your quarters.” He takes your hand in his, the delicate grip of such a strong man making you bite your bottom lip. “I will try to see you before the night ends.” With that, his lips meet your knuckles in a soft kiss.

Cregan heaves himself out of his seat, throwing you one last smirk before leaving you in the hall with your guards and the remaining feasting men.

With one last sip from your goblet, you allow yourself to be escorted to your chambers, tugging your fur cloak tighter around you.

The crescent moon is shining through your window when you hear three knocks on you door. Assuming that this late night visitor could only be Lord Stark, you rise from the bed, adorning the fur cloak your host had provided you earlier in the day.

The door creaks as you open it tentatively. Cregan stands at the threshold, wearing the same attire from the feast. You take note of the hint of pink on his cheeks and the red hue of the tips of his ears peeking out of his shoulder length brown hair. Whether this was a result of the North's bitter chill or something else, you do not know.

"Princess." He bows his head as he greets you.

"Lord Stark..." You breathe out, smiling at the man in front of you. "Is this visit based on the business of the Crown?"

"No, Princess, I just..." His low tone tapers off as he lifts his hand up in order to stroke you face. His fingertips feel warm against your skin. You wait with bated breath for his next move. Slowly, his fingertips trace down your delicate skin to hold your chin between his index and his thumb. He tilts your head up slightly. His stormy grey eyes never leave your own. "I just wanted to gaze upon your beauty once more before I fall asleep."

The maneuver has you practically trembling under your heavy furs. You wet your lips, his eyes only quickly following the movement before once again settling back on your eyes.

"I am happy to indulge in your desires...my Lord." You whisper, voice almost quivering.

"Sleep well, Princess," With that, Cregan removes his touch, though his warmth still lingers across your face. He bows once more before turning and walking down the stone corridor.

Slowly you close your chamber door, smiling lips pursed.

"Mother will be pleased." You sigh before sitting once more on your bed, thoughts of Cregan Stark dancing through your head.

•

[seresinhangmanjake]

I love all your Feyd works! Thank you.

My request is regrding a sensitive topic. So if it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free not to write it.

Reader has arranged marriage with Feyd. After a few years they all discover (including her) that she has fertility issues and has trouble getting pregnant so the Baron wants them to divorce. Wife is becoming hopeless. But Feyd who’s utterly in love and devoted to his wife will not have it and pledges loyalty to her.

Worth To Him

Notes/Warnings: obviously this is about fertility problems. It is a sensitive topic. If this bothers you, please do not read. Mention of period sex.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Sobs wrack your body. One after another after another that keeps your breaths shallow and ragged. Tears coat your lashes, weighing them down. You gave up trying to see clearly through them an hour ago and let yourself get lost in the haze of blindness.

You can’t stop it. You haven’t been able to stop for days. You clutched your pillow like a lifeline, crying into the plush material in a way you haven’t since you were a child. You’ve really proven yourself useless now. You officially have nothing to offer this planet, and the Baron has made that well-known. But what else can you expect when you are incapable of doing the things that are expected of you? How can you expect not to lose the one thing you care about if you cannot give him what he needs?

“If you cannot provide him an heir, you are worth nothing” is what the Baron declared in front of all that exists of his court.

Nothing—the word bounced around the walls of your skull before it finally sank in. You’ve never been nothing until now. You’ve always held some sort of value in some manner or other, even if that manner is in being a political pawn. But no. Here, now, you’re nothing to these people.

At first, you pleaded with him, nearly fell to your hands and knees and told him you’d only been trying for a few months. A few months barely qualifies as adequate time. On your home planet, medical intervention is not discussed until the couple has gone a year with no success. But you’re not on your home planet; there is no medical intervention, and all the Baron said in response was: A few months is too long. You will divorce in a week's time.

Feyd doesn’t know. For the last five days, he’s been on Arrakis, and it was on the third day of his absence that you once again woke to stained sheets. He’ll be disappointed in you, just like the Baron, just like the people of Giedi Prime, just like your parents who agreed to marry you to Feyd for the sake of an alliance that will soon be broken. 

When he returns, they’ll tell him, and he’ll nod with acceptance because that is what he does under order, and you’ll be shipped off. You’ll never see him again. He’ll remarry. He’ll become a father to a child by a woman who is not you. He’ll raise what the people want. He’ll do them proud.

You wonder if he’ll miss you as you will miss him. Will he ever think of you and wish you were in her place? Will he look at the children she’s borne him and wonder what your children would have looked like had you the chance to have them? Will he see their hair and imagine your locks flowing down to their little shoulders? If he peers into their eyes, will he prefer them a shade to match yours instead of hers? You wonder if he’ll be filled with sorrow at what could have been. 

Selfish to think it. There’s no reason to assume he will not enjoy the pleasure his new wife will offer. Neither are you fair in hoping that when he’s inside of her, making the children the Baron demands, he will be thinking of you. 

You cry harder. Your pillow will take ages to dry. Perhaps you’ll move on to his. Soak in the scent of him before you’re ripped away from him and returned to what will be considered by many the end of your life. No other Lord, or future Lord, will take you, not after being owned by a Harkonnen—tainted meat, as they say. You’ll be a burden on your family, an embarrassment to your House’s people, a waste of valuable blood. 

—

Touch stirs you: a soft brush of fingertips over your tear-stained cheek, a thumb grazing over your parted mouth. 

Then a voice. “Wake up.” Your groan of resistance is cut short by a press of lips against yours. A quick peck and then another. “Wake up,” it says, and then one more kiss, much longer this time, that you return before bothering to open your eyes. Your arms wrap around a familiar neck. A tongue gently glides along yours. And then it’s gone. Stolen from you. You want it back. 

Your eyes snap open. At the sight of him sitting beside you, you gasp, quickly scrambling onto his lap. He holds you without question or word. He holds you close to him. You hold him like you never will again. 

Leaning into his body, you push him down onto the mattress and he lands on his back with a chuckle. Your legs straddle his hips, your weight resting comfortably on top of his, and with his hand in your hair, he pulls you back into a kiss. Gentle at first, a caress, then harder, needier, greedier. He could bruise you if he wanted, leave his mark, and you invite him to. Something to take back home with you—a bruising kiss. You hope it hurts. You hope you internally bleed and purple blooms around your mouth. You hope it never fades and you wear the reminder of him for the rest of your life.

His lips part. His tongue is back in your mouth, asking for yours. You savor the slick warmth, knowing you’ll never again be kissed like this. To be honest, you never thought you would be kissed like this at all. You didn’t know kisses like this existed. If someone had told you a year ago that this man would be kissing you this way, with a passion you wouldn’t have dreamed him capable of releasing, you’d have laughed them out of the room. 

He unlocks your mouths for a breath and gifts you a smile. Rare. Almost out of place on his face. The first one you received was five months into your marriage, and you’ve never gotten used to them. 

“I missed you,” he says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

You want to tell him how you’ve missed him, how painful it’s been without him by your side, but you don’t know that you can speak the words, not without every emotion you’ve felt over the last few days bubbling to the surface and overpowering your joy at seeing him—the last time you’ll greet him upon his return before you’re gone. 

He frowns. “You didn’t miss me?” he asks, and since you can’t deny him a damn thing, you gather the will to say: “Of course I did,” but your throat catches midway through. You can’t look at him. He allows it for a few seconds, giving you a chance to meet his stare on your own, but when you don’t, his fingers on your chin turn your face back to his so you can no longer avoid the prying blue shade of his irises. 

“What is it?” he says.

“I know he told you.” There’s a brief pause before your husband hums in acknowledgment. Fingertips trace up and down your spine over the thin material of your nightgown. “The doctor was ordered to examine me after I bled. He’s not sure I’m able to give you a baby. And the Baron–”

“My uncle does not make my decisions for me,” he declares, and you’re so stunned by the defiance that it takes you a moment to collect yourself. 

“Feyd, do you not understand? I don’t know if I can do it,” you tell him. “My body is–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine. You will never belong to another man, nor will I belong to another woman.” 

“Neither of us has a choice.”

“You believe so?”

Your brow pinches, mouth setting in a line. If he’s playing a game, you’re not enjoying it. “As if you aren’t aware of who has the power here.”

“I am aware,” he says. “But Rabban is dead. I’m all that’s left of our line. If he wants his heir, then I’m keeping my wife.”

He speaks with such certainty that the charge of excitement you get whenever you watch him take command of his armies seeps into you, giddily wiggling all of your little nerve endings. But the feeling fades as fast as it came. It changes nothing. Whether or not he defies his uncle does not alter your circumstances. 

You sigh. “But what of your heir?”

“We’ll keep trying,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere. I'm too attached. He doesn’t get to marry me to a woman like you and then take you away.”

“A woman like me, who might not be able to give you what you need,” you say. “Why aren’t you bothered?”

“Having my heir is not where your worth lies to me. If we cannot have a baby, we will take someone else's,” he tells you without snicker or grin. His fingers fist into the material of your nightgown. “Now take this off. I want my wife.”

“I am still bleeding.”

He scoffs. “When have I ever cared?”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 23

Ryomen Sukuna + Power Bottom

True form Sukuna my beloved. I want him so bad. Had a lot of fun writing this, I miss Sukuna so much. Gojo clan reader, cuz hehe. Uh, mentions of cannibalism in this, cuz its Sukuna. Takes place during the Heian era.

2024 kinktober masterlist

It was difficult to breathe, feeling the sheer weight that was Sukuna pressing down on you. Or maybe it was the fact that one of his four hands was wrapped around your neck, his hand so big he couldn’t even fit the entire thing around your fragile neck.

Your arms were pinned above your head, pulled taught just enough to ache but not break, another of his hands easily holding your wrists with just his thumb and pointer finger. Your chest shuddered as Sukuna ground his hips down on you again, pulling a whimper of overstimulation out of you around the fingers he had inside your mouth.

It was hard to keep track of where his four hands went at all times. You knew one was choking you, one was trying to bruise the back of your throat, and a third was holding your arms. But, where was the last one?

A muffled yowl forced its way out your chest as you felt a sudden pinch of pain in your ballsack, tear filled eyes shooting open to look up at Sukuna as if begging him for an explanation. His grin was feral, like it always was when he wanted to “use his favourite toy”. It brought him some kind of thrill to have someone from the Gojo clan under his bulk, bending but not breaking under his strength, and wrung dry until you couldn’t feel your legs.

“What? My ass not good enough for you? why are you thinking about something else Brat” he snarled, the one arm you hadn’t kept track of moving behind him, followed by a cruel squeeze of your sensitive sack. You couldn’t apologize or explain yourself, nor did you want too, since you knew Sukuna loved to see you cry. His face might be stuck in a sneer, but the mouth on his stomach was smirking and licking at your abdomen, showing his true emotions.

You wanted to shake your head, you were here, you just couldn’t help but float off somewhere else after Sukuna had been riding you all night. He always got extra excited after slaughtering sorcerers, you had an inkling he must have killed some of your former clan members with how hard hed ridden you.

For the most part you didn’t even understand why he liked you enough to keep you alive. You were nothing like your clan. You didn’t inherit any of the clans known abilities, and you were even the result of one of the higher ranked women spreading her legs for a no name sorcerer with no clan, leaving you with a bloodline that left you near indestructible.

Maybe it was the fact that you had successfully killed one of your younger cousins, one who had been born with the six eyes, out of nothing but hate for your clan and jealousy. Maybe it was the fact that you had fled to his territory, carrying that younger cousin’s corpse like some sick trophy. Or maybe, it was because you had offered him the corpse, knowing it would anger your clan more than anything else you could have done.

It wouldn’t have been strange for him to have killed you right then and there. But instead, Sukuna had grinned big and feral, with the same glint in his eyes he got when he was about to wipe out a village of innocent non-sorcerers. The mouth on his stomach had licked its lips, and at the time you had imagined it was because of the priced corpse you had given him. When in reality, it was the sight of you, with that dark look in your eyes, covered from head to toe in the blood of your so-called family.

There hadn’t been much to live for, there never was, so swearing your loyalty to Sukuna didn’t mean much to you. Uraume had been quite suspicious of you for a while, until you had proven yourself enough for him. Sukuna had simply been entertained, sending you on trips to kill more of your clansmen or allies of your clan, just to see how far you would go.

The first time he decided that you would be more than just a simple tool had been out of your understanding. You were a sorcerer, but you had never been trained to the same level as those around you, which meant you didn’t notice the flicker of cursed energy unfurling inside you.

It was familiar to Sukuna, and enough to make him salivate. He had been human once, and he knew what to look for when it came to someone turning into a curse. The hate you had festered for your clan and all the abuse they put you through had put you on the right path, and you starting to eat human flesh to please him only watered the seed you had always carried.

You had been stunned at the time as Sukuna invited you to join him in his personal bath, but who were you to turn your lord down. You had seen Sukuna naked multiple times before, having seen him strip down from his hunts and killings, you had even helped Uraume in scrubbing him down, but this was different.

It was even more shocking for you when he shortly told you to wash him, the curse sitting back with his thighs splayed apart and his arms resting behind him outside of the pool of water. You couldn’t truly say no, and you really didn’t want too either, so the choice was easy. You ended up dropping the sponge though, when Sukuna rose out of the water, just to bend over the edge of the natural spring, as he told you to use your mouth to clean him with one of his hands pulling himself open.

From then it was like a fountain had opened. Sukuna had many men and women passing through his chambers, most sacrifices or those that thought they could curry favour with the king of curses, but none of them ever left alive, instead ending up as meat stuck between his teeth.

But you, you survived, even if you felt like he had drained the very life out of your cock with his hungry mouths and ass. If you thought the mouth on his face was lethal, then you hadn’t expected just how skilled the mouth on his stomach was.

Sukuna regularly enjoyed just pressed down on top of you, the mouth on his stomach licking and sucking until you were sobbing from overstimulation. That was never the end of it, of course. He wouldn’t be the king of curses if it was. Instead, Sukuna used cursed energy to get you hard again, just so he could ride you.

A sharp pain in your taint forced you back to the present again, a warbled keen passing your lips as tears ran down your face, what had to be your tenth orgasm of the night rolling through you. your toes curled against the floor, kicking uselessly under Sukunas muscular body.

You heard him tsk above you, his rocking hips coming to a stop on top of your own, his plush muscular ass pressing against your bruised hips and thighs. “Hey, Brat” he grunted, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pat at your tear-stained cheek, strings of spit still hanging from his fingers to your tongue.

Even without his clawed fingers inside his mouth, it still wants impossible to speak. Your tongue felt too thick and heavy, useless and limp and impossible to curl into letters to form words. It was hard to even see his face from how blurry your vision was, a pleasant ache running through your body. You may be half Gojo and near indestructible, but you truly were nothing against someone as powerful as Sukuna.

He gave a huff above you as you turn your head, nuzzling against his palm like an affectionate puppy, which was as close as you could get to express your feelings right now. Sukuna sighed out a longer breath, his hands releasing you, allowing you to take a deep shuddering breath, your arms staying above your head as you felt too weak to move them.

“Guess I can’t expect more out of you” he grumbled, sounding almost annoyed but there was an undercurrent of something softer and warmer. The ache of overstimulation shot through you body as Sukuna rose off you, your poor abused cock falling limp against your stomach. “Oh, shut up, it’s not so bad” the curse rumbled, sounding closer to a purr than his usual growl.

The mouth on his stomach licked its lips hungrily at the sight of your dick, clearly wanting to lick up all the fluids still covering it, or the many streaks of cum, blood, tears and what other bodily fluids covering your body. The thought of that large tongue running over you made you shudder again, part of you yearning, another part wanting to shy away.

“Come here” the curse huffed, picking you up with ease, your body limp in his hold as his two bottom arms held you against his torso. The world felt like it was running together around you, your legs still felt limp and useless, continuous shudders running through your body as you melted against him.

It sounded like Sukuna had called for Uraume, but you couldn’t be sure, as even your hearing felt muffled. Maybe you really had cum more than ten times, you normally didn’t float this far away with just that.

One of Sukunas free hands ran through your sweaty hair, letting you arch into it as he carried you towards his personal bath. You were the only toy who entertained him and that he couldn’t break, so he had to take care of you. that was it, no other reason. The king of curses couldn’t care about anybody, but Sukuna did hate you less than everyone else.

[lady-ashfade]

Could I please have blueberry cookies with Jacaerys for hotd?

Made A Fool.

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

Bakery Event - closed

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summery: after the betrothal to the Prince Jacaerys, you thought it would be the happiest moments of your life given your years spent with him. Happiest is a sliver of what you feel, after he avoids your every move.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 2.2k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: Luke never dies, rhaenryas miscarriage is mentioned, angst, jace being dick, jace accusing you because he’s jealous, betrothal, angst with a happy ending, readers family being near the Starks and long family friends, arguing.

⤻ I got carried away so this is longer then it should be.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🍪 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

During your young years at dragon stone, you found yourself becoming great companions with the princess’s sons. Rhaenyra took you into her home with open arms, she raised you like her own when your mother was a sea away. But her eldest son was easily the most precious thing you come to love, it started out when he gave you flowers— actually weeds— but pretty nonetheless and warmed your heart like dragon fire.

The both of you glued to each others side as the years went by, no one could deny the smiles and laughs you’d share like nothing else matter. Jace was a gentle man, held no grudge or power over you for being born a woman, even encouraged you to learn the sword with him. His blood was of the dragon so he had tendencies to be hot headed and rash when angered. All it took was the gentle touch of your fingertips on his cheeks to calm the dragon within him. Though, you two never knew of each others true feelings, he knew you cared very deeply for him.

“And what do you think of this?” Her grace looked softly at you, sitting down with a pained expression from the loss of the babe in her belly. The question of if you wanted the proposal to her eldest son, something your father wished for his loyalty to her claim. Throughout the years your father never mentioned that he even liked jace, in each letter sent he reminded you that your only duty was to the princess. So, you wonder is this had been his plan all along? A son for his daughter—Dragons for his grandchildren.

“Your grace, I ensure you that I did not come here for a marriage pa-” her smile and hushed laughter stopped you, and made your head tilt in confusion. Rhaenyra ran her hands along her lap, something was amusing to her and made embarrassment sit restless inside you. “I know, sweetgirl. There was never a doubt you were here for this, you care for my boys and me, that much is very clear.” her words made you relived. Her hands moved to the cushion beside her to signal you over. “Join me,”

You obeyed her wish and walked over nervously, the conversation to come was running in your mind of every way this could go. She didn’t see you fit for her son—not good enough. Or even worse, could call you greedy for being her only for her sons even it wasn’t the truth. Everything was spinning as you took your place next to her. “What I asked was if you wanted this marriage? I am forever grateful for you and your family and the support for the war to come, I will agree to the betrothal— but I believe you should have a say in this.”

Gulping the spit in your mouth to cover the butterflies in your throat you stare for a second to get the right words in your head. Jacaerys was the love of your life for years, your own prince from the story books told to young girls. To imagine actually get to be betrothed to him was a dream come true but also a nightmare to convey out loud. “My queen, I will do my duty if you wish.” You picked at your nails while avoiding her gaze. The queen reached her hand to caress your cheek, while turning your head to face her. There was no greater feeling then her soften gaze, “Do you want this? You’re answer will never hurt me.” and you knew you couldn’t refuse the offer because it made your heart happy.

“Yes, Your Grace. I would be pleased to marry Jacaerys.”

The announcement pleased the court of men, knowing your family’s army wouldn’t bend the knee to aegon, even though jace smiled at you- he walked to the other side right after and began to ignore you. Of course, you put it off as his duties were more important and he meant no offense. As men pushed your house piece along the board, giving your impression of what your father wanted, jace kept his eyes off you as you spoke. And you knew he could feel your staring. Again, at dinner while you took your place beside him— his attention was anywhere but on you. This didn’t go unnoticed by only you, his brother Luke happened to think it strange. He was always all over you and now he can’t spare you one look?

Luke decided to save you from feeling lonely and embarrassed so he decided to turn on his charm, something you always thought was adorable about the boy. He would whisper some jokes only for your ears, and as your cheeks flushed red from the wine served he finally asked you to join him for a dance. Though the dinner was small, and in the middle of a war- it was still a celebration of alliance. Decided to dance with Luke, you had a fun time and forgot about jace for a while. This was supposed to be a good day, so you’ll have to push yourself. Luke was like a brother to you, so it was easy to be entertained by him.

The absence of jace brought you down, it’s been a few days since you two actually had a conversation, or he’d actually look at you without someone else expecting him to. Yes, you understand the war at hand, and how much needs to be done and you can’t have his attention all the time. But he made no efforts to speak with you, or acted like he used to—Acted like your future husband. That’s what sprouted anger within you, and you were annoyed and snapped easily.

“My men with have a easier time rallying in the north, my letters to Cregan-” the words cut from your mouth when jace interrupted. His jaw tighter and a harsh glare made it harder to not burst into a screaming match. He had been giving attitude to his mother with the same expression. He hadn’t looked at you in weeks and this is what he was doing?

“You sent letters to Cregan? Why? I visited him nearly days ago,” his voice raised and made everyone in the room look back and forth wonder if they should cut in. “He offered graybeards.”

You roll your eyes at him, “The Starks have been my friends with my family for years, I convinced him to lend a few, young men. No old bones, no offense my lords, but men with stranger arms.” The way he was looking at you, you’d been dead. Many years you saw him angry, annoyed and ready to fight anything that crosses him. Never did you think you’d be on the end of his temper.

“Tell me, how exactly you persuaded him?” everyone could tell he meant nothing well by his accusing statement. You huff and get ready to comment when Rhaenrya placed and hand on your shoulder while Luke got in Jaces vision of you. “And I thank you for that, any swords are welcome.” She rubbed your skin and moved her head towards the door, allowing you to leave as you were visibly upset. Excusing your leaving, Jace watched you leave and turned his whole body. He couldn’t shake the feel inside when the meeting continued and didn’t speak a word, his thoughts only on you.

Jace marched through the halls with haste to your chambers, he saw no reason to knock so the door opened with him already flaring his nostrils. The surprise of the door opening with forced and quickly made you jump from your table, the ink dropped onto your skin from the quill in your hand dropping as you stood up from the chair. “What’s the meaning of this? You can’t just-” Jace walks towards you, making you back up at his pace.

“Me? It’s I who should be asking same question, what in the seven hells was that? Back in the war room?” he yelled at you. You stood only a few steps away and could practically could feel heat from him caused by his seething anger.

“What, are you accusing me of starting it? I simply stated my opinion with my houses army. You couldn’t handle me disagreeing with you?” You head twists and turn with your words, and eyes look all over the room.

He groaned and his eyes darkened, he stood closer to yell in your face. “I have a problem with my betrothed making it known she sends letters to another man. You must want me to look a fool. Have you and him been sending letters for years?” your mouth drops in disbelief at his ignorance words, “He told me he only could give old men, but you somehow convinced him to give us more? Has he declared his love for you, do you swoon in the letters for him?”

“You idiot, you think you have the right to ask me- To think that of me?” You push his chest back away from you, then walk away with a annoyed laugh.

Standing with your hands arching your back on your hips, you look back at him, “It has been you who ignores me frequently, pasted nights without a word from you other then small formalities.” rubbing the skin on your forehead, you breath heavily. “All I have done is be there by your side, never let my feelings get in the way of our friendship. I’d think you’d at least honor that, but somehow you hate the thought of marriage to me so much you pretend I cease to exist.” only now was he knocked off thoughts when your eyes became slightly glossy. Jace couldn’t tell if it was in sadness or anger, or both.

“So no, Your Grace. If you speculate I ever did anything to make Cregan think he’d fight for me, or give him the idea I wanted him. You’d be deadly wrong. Because I have spent years hoping, that one day, you’d care about me that same why I do for you.” turning around to hide the tears escaping, you grab the chair to calm yourself down. He deserved no tears from you or to see you broken, so you had to collect yourself before him.

Brown orbs stares at the back of your head, arms wanted to reach out and comfort you like he did before. Jace never meant to make you feel like this nor that he hates the idea of being with you, romantically. The one things he could never truly show was weakness and when he heard you’d be his, that’s all he felt. Knowing that his enemies would target you. That if you were in trouble you and hurt? It would be his fault.

“Seven hells,” he whispered and tugged at the skin own lips. “Forgive me, for being a jest. I never thought about how you would feel.” straightening yourself and whipped off the tears from your cheeks, you keep your eyes on the wall ahead with your back still turned.

“This betrothal…It brings me joy. From a little boy I have always thought you were a beauty, wanted to fight for your attention against my brother.” the memory of his youth made him smile, “I thought that if I distance myself from you— You’d be safer from the dangers from the greens. I would die if something happened to you just because I love you.”

Spinning around towards him, your brows frown, “You love me?” he nodded his head.

“I do. I have since our youth when you loved the flowers i brought you, even though you knew it was weeds, but you put them into your hair, and placed the prettiest behind my ear.” he admitted. The distant laughter filled both of your minds of that wonderful day, the same day you had also fallen for him.

“You have a strange way of showing it.” You mocked with a growing smile. Jace was hesitant to walk closer, he was unsure if you wanted him to after everything. Your eyes drew him close, and let him get so close that you placed your hand on his chest.

“I am at a threat with or without our marriage, let us face the dangers together. I don’t want either of us to be alone.” taking his heated cheek into your palm, you looked into his eye’s wishful for him never to pull away. The touch was simple, but it had him caving underneath you and wanted more. Licking his lips he stared at yours, hoping you would give him the consent to close the gap between the both of you. One small agreement of a nod he was pressing his lips against yours, his hands resting themselves onto your hips. First kisses are soft, gentle but he was passionate and a little edger to finally get his wish. His hold on you tightened protectively as if someone was threatening you in the moment.

Pulling away from the kiss, both your mouthes covered in wetness, and cheeks heated with hormones. “Are you sure cregan hasn’t declared anything for you? He’d be a fool if not-” you took his lips onto yours to shut him up and his playful jealousy.

A dragon protects what is theirs, and as his future queen consort, he was nothing if not overprotective over you.

[nouearth]

a day at the office.

jim halpert x male reader.

summary: what happens when jim finds out that there's a secret place in the warehouse that's used for sleeping? hint: it's not used for sleeping.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: coworkers, top!jim, bottom!reader, bigdick!jim, spit as lube, fingering, milking, over-stimulation, spitting, kissing, lots of french kissing, breeding, public sex, established relationship, au where pam is with someone else, jim has a bi-awakening, seasons 1-4 jim!

It was a call-back that he’d been expecting. It didn’t take much of an utter of the familiar client’s voice, the principal of Dunmore High School, to assure Jim that he had already secured another renewal of paper supplies for the school; an impressive three-year loyalty from the school, but who was counting?

Jim held the phone and watched you at your desk, two sections diagonal of him. He looked pleased when the client began voicing out compliments because of his efficient service, smiled because you were absolutely terrible at playing computer Chess despite lowering the difficulty settings, and beamed when you caught his gaze, warm like the mug of coffee sitting by the small picture frame of your dog on your desk.

It was impossible to know if you could hear what Jim was saying, but the grin on his face told more than a thousand words and you bid him a thumbs up when he looked up from his notepad after scribbling the client’s purchase.

“All right, and before I let you go, our customer service representative will follow up with a short survey regarding our products and services.” A question followed after. “Yep, similar survey as last time—you got it. All right, it was a pleasure doing business with you. Take care.”

Despite originally feeling aversion for his job, he couldn’t lie about feeling some sense of accomplishment whenever he secured a huge order. Not to mention how much of an ego booster it was since he earned a commission out of the sale. Gradually over time, Jim found himself to be one of the top salesman at the office, convincing himself that his stay at Dunder Mifflin would only be temporary.

Then the gratification completely ceased, weakly fluttering like a limp balloon, when he looked at the time on his taskbar.

It was only 10 AM.

This is going to be a long day. Jim groaned, slouching in his seat because the negotiation felt like forever, sucked out all of the energy left in him during the half-of-an-hour call despite fueling himself with caffeine and random fruits he’d stolen from his roommate. They were nearing that gross, wrinkly stage anyway.

When he turned his attention back towards you, the phone was in your hand, the other typing on the keyboard what Jim presumed would be the client’s answers to the survey questions. There was always a smile on your face, even if the client couldn’t see you. And then tone in your voice. It was inviting and personable, a voice that made people feel safe and heard, as if that mattered at all because how could buying paper feel anywhere near dangerous? 

Or maybe it was simply because Jim was too high on his own infatuation for you, that he was mostly projecting his appreciation.

A couple of hours had passed, 1 PM, and Jim managed to make a few sales here and there. A couple of clients hadn’t finalized their choice of supplier yet, but Dunder Mifflin was certainly being alluded as the option once he offered free deliveries on the count that they ordered a certain number of shipments of paper. That always sealed the deal.

To be honest, other than enduring many of Michael’s annoying antics with Dwight being his right-hand man, most days in the office were exactly as mundane as today was turning out to be. Usually, he would find himself passing time by hanging around your desk, catching you up on the weirdest news he discovered through a deep-dive in the internet.

And you wouldn’t believe what’s about to happen next…

What..? Don’t tell me they found the fing— Yep, they found the finger in the chicken tenders. Cooked. Medium-rare. Crisp to the bone. Blistering. Oh god—that’s horrifying! Jim—

And usually, they were lies that he made up on the way to your desk, mainly because he loved drawing a reaction out of you. And you were also extremely gullible, which made it all the easier to do so.

But as far as today was concerned, you were knees-deep into your responsibilities. Phone calls concerning shipment delays siphoned you into brief turmoil because—of course there were going to be delays, we’re in the middle of February where the earth was working in mysterious ways to conjure up snow days!

As much as Jim wanted to cut the phone line off when a client had suddenly erupted into an audibly loud one-sided yelling match—he was winning, of course—it always impressive how calm and composed you were under those circumstances.

Though, while he acted the same way regarding his approach to customers, he preferred to give people time and space to calm down. Whereas you accessed the situation and carefully structured how you sounded to hopefully pacify their anger. Your voice was gentler, but it never faltered into a frailness that made you a pushover for the client to rag on. Rather, it was stern, especially authoritative when you would assert, “Sir, I understand this situation is very frustrating for you, but I am here to help. And I cannot help you if you do not tell me your order number. And it would also be very much appreciated if you lowered your voice.”

You were fairly new to the company, a little over two years in your position, and every day, as a little more of you unfolded, you’d shown Jim why you were hired on the spot. You were practically the face of what Dunder Mifflin desired, of what any company expected really; friendly, collaborative, hard-working, efficient, all those cliché keywords on a résumé. 

A golden boy, Jim liked to describe you as. He didn’t mean anything negative by it, simply by evidence of your personality at first. But when he mentioned that moniker for you one day, of course you laughed like it was the funniest thing Jim had told you since you’d introduced yourself, because you were a people-pleaser. Easy to get along. Charming. Handsome. Bright. Golden. 

That was you.

Honestly, Jim never expected to cross ‘fall in love’ off his New Year’s resolutions right before the year even started. He also never thought he’d strike out ‘discover your bi-awakening’ in any timeline of the universe—only because he didn’t even know he had a type in men—but the future worked in wondrous, confusing ways. Though, if someone actually asked for him to describe his type, it would be indescribable because Jim doesn’t know exactly what made him fall in love with you, except for the fact that it was you. Your presence. Your personality. Your looks. You.

Jim liked how you would say greet everyone ‘good morning,’ but it was him that you held in high-regard. He liked how you were shorter, like many others in the office were compared to him, but you had a build, or maybe a presence, that made him want to take you in his arms and never let go. He liked how you would end up snorting at his jokes because he never found his jokes incredibly funny. It was mainly a tactic, or rather an invitation for you to know that he wanted to be friends. With every laugh that spilled out of your mouth, fortuitous snorts that would embarrass you when Jim kept the joking going, a mutual bond was shortly formed and it felt even better than scoring a huge sale.

He liked how you were generous, tossing a bag of chips on his desk after a visit to the vending machine, and he’d suspected that you’d been watching him too, because you always got his favorite flavor without Jim ever telling you the minor details of his insignificant life.

He also liked how confusing it was to like you, to suddenly develop a crush on a man like he had just discovered a new aspect of life. There was something exciting and new happening in his mundane world, giving him a newfound motivation to come to work other than to pay his bills. He thought he discovered everything about himself by his early 20s, but you’d shown him that life truly does throw you off-course, or in Jim’s case, on the right side of the path. 

He casted doubts about his sexuality early on, pondering that loneliness had caught up to him and constructed an entirely different narrative as a last ditch effort to set him on an expedition to find love again.

But would loneliness really be influential enough to compel him to suddenly kiss you in the parking lot after having dinner together? He recalled you gasping, pulling away, thankfully not because you were repulsed by him, but because you were in complete shock that Jim was even into men in the first place. 

Jim never realized how much he brought up his ex-girlfriends to overcompensate for this sudden attraction for the opposite gender until you brought it up.

I don’t know yet, about all of this… I’m still figuring things out, but I really like you, (M/N).

Jim, I think you had too much to drink.

All I had was a Sprite—

He pondered that night, then many more until it began weighing on his conscience.

But he oddly found himself kissing you again a month after, properly this time, in his Subaru when he took you home after your car broke down. He felt like a volcano erupting when his lips landed on yours, soft and delicate like the first time he kissed you. His breath rattled into your own hesitation with every exhale, but then you took him in, let him in, and Jim melted. 

And then calmed, stilled, when you led, cupping his jaw to keep Jim from pulling away, and instead closer, leaning over the armrests of each respective seat and center console. The leather pressed uncomfortably into his body, but when you slipped your tongue inside of his mouth, he was spellbound, then purged of any feeling other than the ones you’d enthralled him with.

As you assured him on that night, with a late night conversation that refused to let you out of his car and Jim out of your neighborhood street, that was when he found himself.

Huh.

What?

Nothing… Usually my gay-dar is pretty spot on, so if I knew you rocked that way, I would’ve flirted with you early on.

Okay, one; never mention gay-dar to Michael or Dwight ever, because then they’ll go ‘I told you so’ on me. And two; you had a crush on me? Tell me more.

You’d be surprised how much height can make a gay man go feral, Jim.

Seems like you managed yourself pretty well, don’t you think? That you know of.

You animal…

Another hour passed by as Jim willingly let himself be sucked into a black hole of thoughts recalling those moments with you, those ‘firsts’ that could keep him distracted for another two hours or so. Alongside his first kiss with you, there was the first time he touched you; clumsiness took his hands to roam around your chest, stomach, then erection until you blew from Jim’s increasing interest, and then profound knowledge in your body.

He kissed you elsewhere other than your lips. It started off with your neck, then your shoulders, chest, and so-on, until his lips suddenly began wrapping around your own length without warning, sucking you off with cloddish, yet enticing attempts that made you laugh, because Jim was greedy, awkward with his tongue, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him to yourself.

You pulled him off and made him lean back on the couch instead, settling on your knees and then rewarding his service with your own mouth, to show him how to properly work a cock. Jim was never a man that was enticed by blowjobs, only because a mouth never felt gratifying enough, but with every swirl of your tongue, every spit that dripped off of his thick cock and back into your mouth, he was fully convinced that he was a changed man by the time he filled your mouth. 

He then intruded deep inside of you because to fully have an understanding of your body, he needed to explore every inch, every surface, every crevice. It was on his bed, in his messy room that Jim tried to hurriedly clean before you came in, that could barely accommodate room for two, but it was you who made it work when you straddled on his lap and rode him instead. You’d never felt so full, you said it yourself he was balls-deep inside of you.

And jesus christ, Jim knew he was big considering the women he’d dated were apprehensive about taking him, barely taking his cock before surrendering. It gave him deja vu with the way you held your eyes shut, bracing your position by having one palms on his chest, and the other guiding his cock carefully into you, controlling the stagger of your breath to the best of your ability. 

In the moment where he’d expect you to stop pushing yourself and tell him to settle for a blowjob instead, determination set you aflame like the painful stretch Jim had been providing you with, and with three more pulses to your breath, a brief break to apply more lube on Jim’s erection and your hole, you were entirely breached when Jim aided your hips and pushed you down until you were flushed against his body, flesh sticky and sweaty from your persistence.

You’re amazing… Jim, I’m close. Harder—

It was a memorable night, a messy one where you offered to change his sheets, and Jim swore he could’ve gone all-night if they hadn’t had work the very next day.  Instead, he held you close, panting and continuing to fill you despite your protest to shower, gazing into your eyes while you held his stare with a warmth that might have rivaled his own infactuation for you, and smiled.

I really like you.

I really, really like you too, Halpert.

And now Jim was here, fantasizing in his seat with an aching hard-on, but absolutely guilt-free this time, because it’d been a few months since you two made it official.

It took several pings from Jim’s computer to put his musing to a halt. He leaned forward to view the unread messages, tending to his erection with a few gentle squeezes, then peeked over his monitor with a grin when he realized it was from you.

[M/N]: lunch? [M/N]: hellooooo

[M/N]: if you don’t answer i’m ordering ahead without you [M/N]: wow you’re really out of it [M/N]: stare deep into space if you hate me [M/N]: wow, jim.

“Hey,” A gentle kick to your shoe knocked your attention up to Jim, where he greeted you with a warm smile as soon as your gaze fell on him, a coat draped over his arm. “What are you feeling today?” The weather wasn’t too cold, the coat mainly providing an obstruction to the evident outline in his khakis.

Glistening, you returned his smile tenfold in brightness, sprouting from your seat to stretch your arms over your head, loosening the tuck of your shirt crinkle by crinkle until you felt a pleasing crack to your back and shoulders. “Anything’s fine. Sushi? Wait, no—we had that last week.”

“You have…” Jim rolled a sleeve up to check the time on his watch, and your eyes immediately pivoted towards the veins in his forearm, endearing and taunting. “…the two minutes it takes to get to my car to decide.”

“Wait, but that’s not even enough—“ He turned his body so you were complaining towards his back, broad and firm through his blue dress shirt. You’d never felt so envious of a piece of clothing hugging tight on his body when that could’ve been you.

“Up and at ‘em, a minute and twenty seconds now.” Jim began walking towards the entrance, chuckling as he could hear you scramble through your desk in search for something. “Gotta find my wallet first—“

“Seriously? It’s already been thirty seconds now!” 

Turned out, all that rushing was for nothing as Jim had other plans when he pulled you past the exit to the parking lot, and instead another floor lower, and then another, until you and him reached the warehouse. He acted on impulse, his sudden thirst for you taking the reign of his actions that he didn’t exactly know what to do had the warehouse not been empty. Luckily, it was and Jim would keep that in mind for the future.

“Uh… Jim, why are we down here?” The warehouse was bigger than you last remembered from the brief introductory tour you were given. Though, to be fair, you were running on a half-mug of coffee, and the adrenaline rush of meeting everyone for the first time hadn’t worn off yet.

“You’ll see,” Jim shrugged, nonchalant in his demeanor as his gaze was seemingly in pursuit of something above him along the rows of storage shelves and units. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise for you.” The words rolled off of his tongue suspiciously, and beneath the growing smile on Jim’s face that was supposed to keep you calm and composed like it did on normal circumstances, was something that did the opposite, riling a wave of conflicting feelings within you.

Especially when Jim began to climb a ladder and step into a shelf space in the back of the warehouse that was hidden impressively well from the entrance.

“What—What are you doing?! Get down here!” Your eyes widened in panic, scanning the space from left to right multiple times in case any of the warehouse employees were within vicinity. “Jim!”

“It’s fine, come on up!” He waved you up once he got himself situated, head awkwardly bent and shoulders slant because of the shelf barely accommodated for his height and build.

“No way. We’re going to get fired if we get caught.” You frowned, crossing your arms as you stared up at him, baffled.

“You know, it would help your case if you weren’t standing where everyone could see you.” Jim reasoned and you huffed after. “I promise, we won’t get caught. I’ll keep an eye out. And if it helps, Darryl told me about this area. Toasty in here too.”

Apprehensively, you took ahold of the ladder railings and climbed your way to the shelf space where Jim awaited for your arrival, anticipated with a smug smile as he held out his hand to pull you in once you took his palm.

The shelf was in the darkest corner of the room. A few lights above had been burnt out for quite some time, and the large boxes of paper supplies that surrounded the perimeter casted shadows that ultimately provided an agreeable space despite your original complaints. In this case, as you cataloged the pillows and one throw blanket around you and Jim; a comfy place to rest your eyes.

“You took me here… to nap.” You stated matter-of-factly and stared at him disengaged, but nonetheless foraged a pillow behind your head and snuggled up to his left side when he opened his arm up. 

“The things I do for you. Absolutely no appreciation whatsoever.” Jim joked, then pinched your nose with a chuckle. The gesture always managed to pull a smile out of you, and he already anticipated you mirroring it back at him, to which he keenly blocked with a strong hold of your wrist. Then another when you attempted sneak attack with a neck-chop with your other arm.

“You know…” Your voice wandered to a deepness, a slight hush as if anyone around you could hear. “You could’ve just told me you were horny.” You tugged your hands in resistance.

“What—How did you know?” Jim broke out into a toothy smile despite being caught red-handed.

“I mean, you weren’t exactly hiding your boner that well. A hand isn’t going to cover that.” You nodded your head towards the size of his bulge, the center of Jim’s khakis creasing when his erection greeted you with a throb. The boxes of paper supplies couldn’t shelter Jim had they tried.

“Hey, are you shaming me for having a big penis? Wow, (M/N). I thought you were different.” He loosened his hold on your wrists, but nonetheless kept them within his grasp to guide your right hand to his inner thigh, dropping the other after. He leaned in, his gaze pivoting to your wet lips when you licked your lips. The scent of his cologne, along with the way Jim’s eyes glazed over you like a piece of meat, stirred something inside of you. Your pants felt tighter than a couple seconds ago.

“If blowing you until you finish in my mouth is shaming, then…” Jim’s hand pressed on top of yours to move you upwards to his bulge, but you resisted, a teasing grin beamed towards the smug smile on his face before you enchanted his lips with a soft, languid kiss. “Call me a monster.”

Jim abandoned your hand to take ahold of your jaw, cupping the underside of it softly while his thumb caressed the structure with composed strokes. Your breath tasted like coffee, sweeter than how Jim preferred his own cup, but perfectly delectable when it came from your tongue. 

“You stole my line.” He joked again, then kissed you harder; a stroke of his tongue parted your lips again in desperate need to take you, in a sloppy pursuit of some kind of reward for his terrific work this month. His tongue explored your mouth, panting among both parties, your own wet flesh gliding and slipping against and around his needy endeavors, prompted by the gentle squeezes and strokes on his erection, and it didn’t take very long before you were completely captivated by Jim and the way he took you, your body going limp except for the growing tent in your pants.

You palmed him through his khakis. Your hand barely moved up his thigh before you could feel a long and thick lump residing beneath the crinkle of his left pocket, and a moan slipped from your throat because you could never stop marveling over the size of Jim’s cock. “We only have twenty minutes.” It was a complaint rather than a reminder. The clock ticking in your head peeled you away from the captivating kiss, frowning because there was so much you wanted to do to Jim, for him.

“Better get to work then.” You felt his hands suddenly begin to work at your belt, unbuckling them with deft and efficiency. Impatience left the leather hang loose, flopping stiffly as Jim unzipped your pants, and then pushed them down to your ankles after turning you on your side, your back facing him.

Jim snapped your briefs below the smooth curve of your ass, plumping them with the help of the tight restraining digging into your skin and pushing your mounds of flesh upwards. It was a delicious invitation for him to spank your right ass cheek once to watch how his slap reverberated off your flesh in soft jiggles, then another because your hushed whimpers were the perfect accompaniment to the force of his palm.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about your ass today.” He confessed while the strong kneads to your ass, palms of thick flesh groped and spread, provided proof to his confession.

“Yeah? Is that why you couldn’t keep it in your pants today?” You groaned when something wet and lean slid nimbly inside of your hole without warning. Tight and warm, you squeezed around Jim’s lone finger as it thrusted inside of you. Whimpered when it curled, another finger joining after a couple of flicks of his wrist, with the intent to wreck vengeance on the source of his erection.

“You know it,” His voice ghosted over your ear, closer than you expected, and your head knowingly turned to meet his lips for a yearning, sloppy kiss that Jim mutually had been craving all day for. He pushed himself closer to you, your mouth and his parting open and lingering as tongues mingled for an open-mouthed kiss. It was wet and sickly, enough to get you high on the act alone, cock throbbing when Jim closed his mouth around your tongue and sucked the spit bubbles off your tongue. All of that simultaneously stirring butterflies in your stomach while he worked your hole open, presently stretching you out with three fingers barreled into your cavity. 

Usually three fingers was enough to take Jim’s cock. It was uncomfortable, at times painful when you barely stretched yourself. But you liked that you could feel every inch of Jim’s muscly cock pushing you open. You likened it to rolling out a tight muscle after a tough workout. Painful, but incredibly satisfying once you felt him turning you out. Plus, it never failed to make Jim incredibly gratified, his cock somehow growing harder, thicker while he was shelved inside of you.

It wasn’t the most ideal position; you were facing boxes of copy paper that instantly evoked shame, the Dunder Mifflin logo plastered across the cardboard seemingly mortified by the lack of restraining when it came to your boyfriend. It wasn’t often that you two involved yourself in public sex, but when Jim was either too impatient to wait at his apartment, or you needed something to recharge you in the middle of the day, those circumstances mainly resided in his car. You bought extra blankets to cover up the windows too, though ultimately, they served no purpose because you were here—ass out, jerking yourself off to the hastened sound of Jim’s belt unbuckling, khakis and boxers shoved down to his ankles similar to yours in turn.

“Shoot,” Jim grunted irritably. You turned your head over your shoulder, curiously finding the source of his evident annoyance along with him as Jim began searching through his coat pockets, only after taking a long peek at the glorious throb of his cock.

“What? Having regrets already?” You grinned, and you discerned a vacant smile of his own, Jim’s mind occupied by a multitude of thoughts.

“I forgot the lube. I thought I put it in my pocket, guess not…” A sigh of disappointment came after Jim’s habit of clicking his tongue whenever he felt any kind of feeling. “Well, I guess we could try—“

You suddenly took Jim’s hand and spat in it, Jim watching wide-eyed, stunned, while you pushed a few more out with your tongue since saliva never had the ideal longevity and viscosity of lube. “Hurry before it dries.” You turned back calmly, beckoning for his cock with a push of your ass. 

“I’m in love with you.” Jim breathed out, a toothy smile you could imagine from the giddy tone of his voice. The spit in his hand was then used to lube his thick cock, in a thick sheen you presumed from the sticky sounds that tingled the tips of your ears, then the base of your tightened balls.

“Prove it to me.” You folded the arm you were lain on behind your head, cushioning the weight of it while your other hand reached back to lather his cock in your saliva after spitting a few more times into your palm. You felt veins pulsing strong with every stroke, a weight of thick cock that made your wrist sore, and then as you pivoted towards the pink glans of Jim’s dick, a bulbous head that intimidatingly maintained the girth of his shaft.

“You’re going to regret it.” He said smugly, adjusting himself closer and lower to match your smaller build. His moans were bitten back, swallowed down with hard gulps while you were carried away in providing him a temporary relief that you were too impatient to ignore.

Your hand continued stroking him off, your saliva sticking on his cock and then eventually in between your ass as you guided him towards your entrance, immense warmth emanating from the blood surging through his cock veins. “Have I ever?” 

“No,” Jim replaced your hand, making it return back to fondling your balls, and teased by running his cock over the crack of your ass. You felt his cock bolt with a spring, taunting when the plump head pressed its slick pre-cum to your pucker. He loved how he could see your ass clench in desperate efforts to lure him in, but it was futile as he’d return to sweeping over your hole with languid swipes, drawing out whimpers that signified that your impatience was running thin. 

“And I love you even more for that.”

He suddenly pushed. Your breath got caught in your throat from the abruptness of it all, and your body immediately tensed in turn, frozen in place when a burning sensation from beneath alerted you to stay put and just breathe. Jim groaned, already feeling the swell of your pucker refusing to let the head in, so he pulled himself out and restarted. Harder, he pushed his cock inside of you again, persistent despite your body naturally arcing forward to escape the emerging pain, but his hand on your hip pulled you back, anchoring your withering body, until the thick inch of his cock slid in.

“Careful—F-fuck, Jim.” Your stomach was in knots as it always was when he would first push inside of you. Feelings, conflicting ones of need, want, and regret battling for the throne of your body, of your mind, as Jim kept pushing, sliding in and out, rough and impatient because he needed you to open yourself up for him.

He was so big, too big at times, and you felt so pathetic because you thought you’d get used to him by now; used to the way you felt so full even when only his head had penetrated you; used to how your hole stung as more of Jim sheathed inside of you, slowly with a couple of thrusts aiding its insertion. 

“I know, I know…” He breathed with a rattle, the tightness in your cavity gripping pleasurably around him as he thrusted with only the first few inches in, absolutely riveting that he couldn’t help but let his desires dominant his methodical approach in letting you adjust to his large size and instead, making you to take it all at once with one long and deep push.

“J-Jim!” A scream abruptly left your throat and before you could let another slip out, his hand suddenly came up to cover your mouth, pressing his palm hard to your face and squeezing your cheeks. Your eyes shut, and your body writhed from how Jim’s cock roughly worked you opened. You felt uncomfortably full, beyond stretched to your limits as Jim was balls-deep inside of you now, but most importantly, you felt so wanted.

Bounded by the strong hold around you; his hand squeezing your cheeks in his palm to muffle your moans; his cock penetrating you deep and hard with fast and needy rhythms; his lips soft against your neck before they surprised with a painful suck to your jawbone; you were enraptured by Jim’s dominance over you, leaking from the tip of your cock in heavy drips while he fucked you from behind, the metal of his belt clacking with every precision of his thrusts.

“You’re so tight. Fuck. No one can take my dick like you.” Jim panted, embellishing your neck in hot breaths before climbing to kiss you on the lips again once you were prompted to turn your head. 

It was the small sounds from you that drove Jim nuts. They spilled into his mouth without restraint, an open-mouthed kiss again as he licked into you, suckled on your tongue, and let drool join your own slick mess at your chin. Tiny whimpers and occasional gasps when he hit your prostate fed his thirst for you, knowing that only he could drive you this mad; fumbling over your begs and surrendering because his cock was too good for you to think properly and find your words again.

“Harder. Harder.” You gulped, your demands muffled as Jim had his thumb in your mouth now. After, you went back to sucking his thick thumb off, tongue laving him in circular motions, as best as one could as Jim sped his pace and fucked you into oblivion. “Harder.” You gritted your teeth, hustling through the burn as the saliva had dried off his dick by now. You were beating your cock, pumping it with an ample amount of strength that rivaled Jim’s hips against you, motivated by the ticking countdown of your lunch break coming to an end soon.

It still stung. You barely had time to adjust to him before you were completely taking Jim’s cock as if you were a cheap flashlight he bought online, a piece of silicon that he’d break. Your hair bounced, sweat-dripping down your forehead while you felt his own sweat dripping of his forehead and staining your dress shirt. The back of your shirt felt damp, heat building up at your back-side as Jim had enclosed around you with an embrace that thawed any ounce of pain and replaced it with intoxicating pleasure. An onslaught of thrusts kept you writhing by your toes, then curling into the blanket that had bundled beneath your feet.

Harder. Your demands were immediately met after Jim pulled himself out completely, as if he was recharging his strength, lubed his erection with a spit to the palm, then shoved himself back into you with one strong thrust, sending your body into an arc that he’d immediately restrained back with a push to your abdomen, forcing you to take his cock in full stride. Your ass rippled like the rattle in your moans, flesh clapping loud whenever Jim met his groin to your skin, and you couldn’t get enough of it, the sounds glorious in your ear. Your hole clenched in vain as Jim always managed to power through and forced you open again, hollowing you out until your pucker shaped itself to the exact size of his thick cock.

He would marvel at the gape when he pulled himself out again, for his own sake as he was nearing his climax, and spread your cheeks open. “Just for me?”

“Just for you.” You used the small break to catch up on your breath, wetting your parched throat with multiple gulps as you turned over your shoulder to catch him staring, finding it futile as your throat felt brittle again.

He clicked his tongue multiple times, that habit again whenever he felt something, when the rim of your hole tensed up at the multiple spanks he’d given you, seemingly swallowing at nothing but air, until he breached himself back in, angling his hips perfectly to press at your prostate.

It was nearing—your climax. You rarely touched your cock, abandoning it because your arms tend to be locked behind Jim’s warm embrace around you, but it sprouted strong in between your legs, aided by the repeated violation against your prostate. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head multiple times, Jim’s large cock knocking the breath out of you with every snap of his hips, pounding into the swelling of your insides.

“Oh god, Jim—“

That spot again, he never missed once in hitting your prostate, a storm of delight torpedoing the pit of your stomach as Jim impaled into you like lightning. Jim muttered something under his breath, striking on your skin as he bit into your neck, then pressed hard against your hip bone.

“I’m gonna—“ Jim gripped at your hips harder, a slur of words near your ear making goosebumps raise all over your body, beneath the layer of sweat that had dampened your clothes. 

“Too, me too—“ You huffed, closing your eyes, but deftly finding Jim’s lips when you turned your head to kiss him one more time. An immediate tangle of tongues was enforced, your mouths mutually opening on impulse while he held your head comfortably to keep you from straining your neck. You moaned, reeled your tongue back from the slippery closure of his mouth, and cried out as your pucker clamped down on his large cock moving inside of you. Your hole throbbed around his girth with exquisite spurts that came from within, pulsated with the veins that had adorned Jim’s cock delectably, grasped him like a tight sleeve that refused to let him go. 

When you opened your eyes, you were blinded by the lights that had donned over you instead of casted shadows, a heavenly choir celebrating with holy bells when your balls tightened once before loosening when your cock erupted thick cumshots onto the boxes in front of you, painting the cardboard in thick layers of yourself, of your desires, with the help of Jim’s cock, pounding strong ropes of cum out of you until they’ve hit every box like target practice. 

“Fuck.” Jim let out a deep groan, pushing painfully into you, his hand reaching over to milk your cock until you were only spewing out the tiniest bits of cum left in your emptying sack. Your whimpering and the convulsion of your body, as he continued to milk your cock, triggered Jim to finally break within a couple more thrusts and a deep grunt, his cock exploding hot and thick in the confines of your ass, flooding your tender hole with his thick cum loads.

“Jim.” You whined, drawing out his name. His cum was dripping out of you, a few thick droplets rolling to the side of your ass as Jim’s thrusts were beginning to shallow, but never once pausing. “Fuck—“

“You feel so good like this.” Jim was creaming your insides, using your ass to ride out his orgasm and milk his hard cock inside of you, even when he was beginning to feel sore at the base of his balls. You whimpered quietly, knowing it was such a waste of cum dripping out of you like that, but also because you felt your cock hardening again despite just now recovering from Jim’s devious hold on you.

“We’re going to be late if you keep this up.” You should’ve known better. Any time you offered him a reason not to do something, Jim was motivated to do the opposite. 

His thrusts remained the same, shallow yet deep against you, and right when you thought you felt soaked in your ass, Jim pressed another low grunt to your lips, snapping once into you and rattling another moan out of you, before the convulsions bound his body to your backside once again, and let him spill another load inside of your creamy hole.

Jim shuddered, feeling drained and especially aching as his cock went limp and slipped out of you, the only connection between you and him being the sticky cum that had webbed his cock and your ass together as you involuntarily pushed his cum out of your tender hole in a daze.

“Think you can work the rest of the day like this?” The pleasure subsided into exhaustion, a wave of drowsiness hitting you and Jim like a truck despite the uncomfortable pool of cum sitting beneath you two. Jim kissed your shoulder, then pulled your briefs back up, your pants following after.

“No way.” You laughed, lightly punching at his shoulder after buckling your belt because now all you wanted to do was use what the shelf was actually purposed for: sleeping. “You owe me a hot bath later.”

“Tch, the things I do for you. You're ungateful.”

"You love me for it."

"I do."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[taintandviolent]

Lime Green Jell-O; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader is in a situationship with Peter Maximoff. It's been casual on both ends, or so you thought. You think he's jealous and you decide to tease a little hard. Peter can't take the heat, though.

word count: 2K!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of jealousy, possible jealousy kink.

a/n: anonymous request! you guys keep asking me to write Peter, and I'm nervous every single time, istg. I hope it delivered, and you enjoyed reading it! ps: dividers are by firefly-graphics!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

Peter sat bolt upright, as if you’d just announced the most horrible thing in the world. Which to him, you had. 

"So, you've been seeing other guys?" Peter asked painfully casually, working overtime to control the pitch of his voice. Any hint of his true feelings and he'd be done for. 

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course I have." You gulped down the last bit of soda, and crawled over on the bed to throw it in the bin. Most of your free days were spent in his room, fooling around, playing video games with him, and watching whatever cheesy movie he’d put on. He seemed to think you had extra free-time that you’d spent with other guys.

Though it was only a nano-second, Peter's brows furrowed, and his lips frowned. You narrowed your eyes, and he immediately shifted in his jacket, returning to his previous state. No way she saw that. No way -- it was too fast. He darted to the bed, standing in front of you. 

Getting to your knees, you squared up. Inhaled and closed your mouth, crossing your arms firmly across your chest, underneath your breasts. Your shirt was low-cut enough that he saw the shift in your cleavage. He clenched his jaw, averting his dark eyes elsewhere. This wasn’t the time to start getting a stiffie. 

"Peter," you started, a reprimanding tone in your voice. If he was going to pull the loyalty card now… you smirked. "The first time we hooked up you said, and..." You brought your fingers up to make quotes in the air, in front of his face. "I quote: 'Nothin' serious, babe'. So....." 

Damn. Peter pushed his lips forward, nodding. "Right, yeah, I did say that. And I so totally meant it." 

"Good, so… you shouldn't care if things are getting pretty serious with one of them. Like... really serious. Serious enough that we might have to stop hanging out as much." Bam. Mic drop. 

That was a lie; a blatant one. Little did he know, you had been dating casually, but doing so completely uninterested. No one had matched your silver speedster; not in sex, not in personality, not in anything. He had zipped his way into your heart and wasn’t leaving. You weren’t about to let him know that though, and decided to dig a little deeper with the teasing. He was cute when he was jealous… which he was. You knew it. 

Instead of confessing everything right then and there, Peter stiffened and mirrored your position; arms crossed over his muscled chest. He shook his head and shrugged. Cool as cucumber. No way were you winning this one. 

You smirked again, this time, raising a single brow. "Are you... jealous, Maximoff?" 

"Pffffbfbbtbt." Peter blew air through his lips, slicing his hand through the air like he was swatting a fly away. "Totally not jealous." 

"Good, because if you were, you'd hate to hear that Tommy and I went on the most adorable date the other night, and he was --" 

His hands flew up, waving slightly. "Woah, don't need to hear the deetz, babe. No thanks." 

"Oh no? I think you are jealous... I absolutely think you are, because..." 

Peter's fingers shushed you, smushing into the fullness of your pout. He didn't want to hear the (probably one-hundred percent correct) explanation that followed the 'because'. Your eyebrows flew up on your forehead, expectantly. You tried to speak through his finger, but he pressed harder. Peter screwed up his expression before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. He huffed a breath, and looked back at you.

You yanked your face away, narrowing your eyes into knowing slits. You barked out a laugh, unable to control it. He had always been a terrible liar, but this took the cake. “Oh, you totally are. You are lime-green Jell-o, Peter.”

“I am not.” 

“Are too.” You jabbed your index finger into his pec. “You so are.” 

He huffed and dropped his arms. You weren’t budging, and if he kept up, you’d win. He knew it, you knew it. It was a good old-fashioned standoff. You cocked your hip out to the side. 

"Okay, so maybe I am jealous. Fine. Sure. Whatever. Now, c'mere."

Exhaling heavy over his bottom lip, Peter took hold of your face and pulled you into a warm kiss. The tips of his fingers stroked your hairline, urging you closer to him - as close as he could get you without melting into you. Surprised, your eyes widened into the kiss, but after a few seconds, you couldn’t help but melt into him. 

"Peter, Peter," you murmured into his lips, pushing away slightly to look over his face with a weighted gaze. "You're really jealous?" 

Saying nothing, he nodded heavily and went back to kissing you, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before breaching. You whimpered into his lips, the vibration tickling slightly. Peter pressed his chin into yours, gently forcing you to scoot backwards on the bed. The kiss deepened for a moment before Peter broke it, his dark orbs scanning your face. 

“Yeah,” he whispered over your lips before urging your back against the mattress. “I am super jell-o…” He mocked. 

“Want you for myself. All for myself. Okay? Just… lemme’...” 

Peter nuzzled your neck, soft lips ghosting the skin and peppering kisses from your ear lobe down to your collarbone. Just above there, he began suckling the skin, pulling it into his mouth. He sucked harder and harder until you finally yelped, jerking your head away slightly. The skin left his mouth with a wet pop. 

"Ow! Peter, what are you doing?" 

"Markin' my territory.... err.... something." He pulled back to look at his handiwork. The skin where he'd been sucking was scarlet, heading to purple, and by that evening, it would be a wicked bruise.  A little gift for whoever you saw next, if it wasn't him.

He grinned as you rubbed at the skin, feeling the tenderness of it. “Did you just give me a hickey?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“You dork,” you murmured. Peter crushed his lips against yours again, inhaling your scent. His hands trailed up your waist, gripping it hungrily. This is exactly what you’d thought about earlier; every time he touched you, it felt electric, and nobody had even come close to that sensation. You bucked your hips up into his, grinding against the tent in his sweatpants. Peter pressed back against you, hissing through his teeth at the sudden welcome friction. Beneath the fabric, you felt the heat and pressure of his hardening cock and whined. 

“What the heck d’ya want, babe? What am I doin’ wrong here? You want a romantic? You want a casanova?” 

“No,” you started, raking your nail along his t-shirt, the fabric catching underneath your nail and exposing his luscious neck just a little bit. “I  just want you, Peter. Only you. No other guys matter, and I only… I only said that because you said it was casual, I didn’t want to seem desperate.”

“I dunno, I think I’m actin’ pretty desperate right now.” He rutted his hips against you, his cock bumping into your cloth-covered cunt again. You bit your lip, rolling your eyes back. Every whimper, moan and mewl you made coursed through his veins, straight to his dick. They made it ache, and burn, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, dry-humping you urgently. 

“Fuck me, Peter.” 

Just what he wanted to hear. He nodded in response and brought his fingers to the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping inside. He drug his middle finger up along your folds, smearing your precum over the warm flesh. You were already so wet, Peter grit his teeth, slipping a single digit inside. You vocalized at the sensation, and he slipped another finger in, pumping them in and out slowly. You loved when he did that; just felt you, played with you like a little sex toy. 

His nimble fingers slipped out, and began toying with your cunt, making tiny, quick circles on your swollen clit. The muscles of your thighs quivered hard and deep with every pass of the pad of his finger. He always knew how to make you writhe around, practically shivering with pleasure. You felt the wetness pooling underneath your ass and whimpered, shyly. You always got so wet around him, almost to the point of embarrassment. Peter never made fun, though; if anything, he was always delighted by it, and loved to feel it soaking through the fabric of your cute, little patterned panties. 

As he flicked at your sensitive spots, your lids drooped shut, thinking about how good he was going to feel. It pressed against your hip, hard and demanding, like it was searching for somewhere to go. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Gimmie that cock,” you whispered against his ear before nipping at his lobe. Higher than he wanted to, he whined and withdrew his fingers, planting them on your hip bone. 

“Mm’yeah…. gonna’ give it to you,” he nodded, breathless. “‘Cause you want it bad, right?” 

“Yeah, I do. The only one I want.”

Wasting no time, Peter freed his throbbing dick from his sweatpants. It bounced heavily in front of you, the searing hot tip pressing against your tummy. Biting your lip, you took it in your hand, giving it a few generous pumps. You then pushed his cock between your legs, lining it up with your slit and forcing the tip in for him. The action sent a shockwave through his body; he jerked up and groaned. “Fuuuuck…” 

Peter threw your legs over his shoulders, angling your body up. 

“C’mon, give it to me…” 

He clenched his teeth and bottomed out, slamming the lower half of his toned body into yours. It filled you, stretching your walls and pressing against them in the most erotic, tantalizing way. He found a rhythm quickly, and made sure to keep it, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you. You threw your head back and let out a breathy moan, pressing your head into the pillow. You swallowed, wetting your throat and looked back up at him. 

Above you, Peter was extra-whiny today. Sweat collected on his forehead, beading up before ribboning down his temples. His silver hair stuck together in clumps, and when he looked from your pussy to your eyes, he smiled weakly. He was fucking you hard, harder than he usually did and you could only assume it was because he was taking out his aggression, his jealousy.

“Oooh, yeah, just like that, baby… Just like that. You’re so… you’re so jealous.” Your words were punctured by lewd moans and breaths, but you finally got out the teasing statement. Then, Peter did something he didn’t usually do. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you onto his cock over and over again, relentlessly, bucking his hips up to meet yours with every thrust. The tip of his cock hammered your cervix, hitting your deepest parts. Your jaw dropped, brows peaking together as he fucked you. 

“....oh….oh my fuckin’....” 

“....shit-shit-shit, Peter…” 

Your pussy clenched around his cock, and you couldn’t control it. She fluttered, coating his dick in warmth. Peter groaned, closer than ever. 

“You should… you should be –” You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. “...be jealous more often.” 

That did it. Peter lost it, spurting his white heat  inside of you, pumping it deep. A melody of groans between the both of you filled the room, as the thrusts slowed and the sweat dripped. He collapsed on top of you, kissing every inch of bare skin that he could find. 

After a few moments, he snapped up, hands on either side of your head. He looked down at you with a quirked brow, and a mischievous smile. You grinned back at him, lust-blown and giddy. You loved these afternoons, where you just fucked each other like teenagers. 

“Wanna’ play some video games? Or did you have another lame-o date planned?” 

You sniggered. “The only lame-o I’m dating is you.”

[lovelywritinglady]

Idea that been on my mind for like weeks. GN reader that is Muzan's S/O that isn't well known by demons not even some of the uppermoons. Reader comes to the Infinity castle during an uppermoon meeting and gets on to Muzan about leaving a mess (Dead person) at the house and how they always have to clean the blood up. They are tugging Muzan's ear which is just surprising to the uppermoons. Nakime knows Reader cause she brings them there. Kokushibo knows reader because he saw reader in the infinity castle before doing whatever. Reader is also a demon.

Feel free to ignore this.

Sure thing!! Thank you for requesting!

Yes Dear

Muzan Kibutsuji x GN!reader

In which the demons in the infinity castle are shocked by the authority you seem to have over their Lord Muzan.

Fluff, established relationship, mentions of violence, demons, out of character Muzan/other demons.

The moon was high as the upper moon demons gathered together because of their lords command. They all stood in the infinity castle as they awaited their lord who had important news to tell them. Douma in particular was getting restless, wishing he could partake in the eating of beautiful women instead.

“Where is our Lord?” Douma asked to no one in particular.

“Be patient, I am sure our Lord will arrive shortly.” Akaza replied with an annoyed tone.

“Hmmm, fine then.” Douma sighed.

Just then, the man of the hour himself arrived, almost in a flash. Douma, Akaza, and the other upper moon demons all stood still at Muzans aura. Chills ran down their spines and their once proud faces were now ones of fear. They all bowed simultaneously and kept their heads down to show their loyalty.

“Mmm good to know you all still know your place.” Muzan spoke looking down at them with slight disgust. The smell of blood thick in the air as Muzans latest victim lie dead on the floor.

“Yes my lord.” They all spoke heads still down

“Dammit Muzan! Not again!” An angry demon called out making all of the upper moons lift their heads in surprise.

“What is it now dear.” Muzan spoke calmly looking at his beloved.

“How many times have I told you that you cannot leave your dinner anywhere you want. You’re the lord of all demons at least act respectable. My goodness.” The new demon scolded Muzan as the tugged on his ear which surprised all of the other demons in the room.

“My…apologies, y/n. Please let go of my ear darling.” Muzan spoke softly hoping his subordinates wouldn’t hear.

“For what” Y/n said still holding onto his ear.

“For… leaving my dinner… laying around.” Muzan responded looking annoyed as his ear was throbbing in pain.

“Good. And this time there is no way in hell I’m going to clean up after you.” Y/n spat giving Muzan their best glare as they finally let go of his ear.

“Yes dear.” Muzan as he looked deep in their eyes. Muzan then held y/n’s face affectionately before turning back to his subordinates who gave him a look of confusion.

“What are you all looking at. If you’d like to keep your head then I suggest you bow your heads.” Muzan yelled glaring his bright red eyes at the upper moon demons.

“Yes my Lord Muzan.” They all said in unison.

“This powerful demon is Y/n, who also happens to be my mate. Treat them as you would treat me.” Muzan ordered looking at them in disgust.

They all bowed further showing that they understood their lord’s demand. Y/n then heals on to their mates arm holding it affectionat. They then looked at the sight before them feeling pride that their love is so powerful.

“Don’t you have import news to tell them, my love?” Y/n asked looking up at Muzan.

“Why yes, Dear.” Muzan replied looking into their e/c eyes. “I have gathered you all here today to tell you that a demon that has conquered the sun had finally come.” Muzan started as he continued to hold on to his love.

Thank you so much for reading and thanks to the person who requested this fic!!💜 Sorry this took so long!!! Thank you for your patience.

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•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L