#because you know you DO have to take measures to guard your heart when things are going off the rails. (i'm not happy about this but i know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reignpage · 26 days ago

Text

Art Student!Choso

Renaissance: worship

Word Count: 5.4k Contents: 18+ mdni, plot with smut, mostly fluffy, direct continuation of the part 5 smau, and concludes pre-relationship Choso's story, not proofread so idk how much sense this makes, let me know if it’s complete bs and I’ll redo it or something

You’re staring at the most beautiful mural you think has ever been created. It’s made up of harsh strokes of ash, curving and spiralling into one another, sprawling across the entire back wall of the gym. The smudges and the streaks breeze from corner to corner, bouncing along the edges as they create layers of shadows which seem so thick you could feel it from where you stand.

There, in the centre, you can make out a face. It’s contorted, mouth stretched inhumanly, eyes bulging and threatening to pop out. Fragmented and clawing itself, tearing skin and pulling until its face morphs into something you can’t quite make out. Dissolving into the fray, with the stark chalk, it spirals into frenzied strokes, suffocating itself.

A gasp leaves you when you step back, taking more of it in at once, and you see amidst the smoke and the chaos, symbols, jagged and torn up. They make up even more faces, just as contorted and as uncanny, all stretched out in silent screams that pierce your soul and render your knees weak.

It’s haunting.

You had no idea you would walk in to find this when you were searching for Choso. And when you meet his eyes from above, leaning against the railing, you think you might actually fall to your knees. It’s the same eyes that match the big ones on the wall, both equally broken, accusing and full of heat as it never wavers from yours.

There are so many things left unsaid, things that are desperate to get out, to be screamed at him so he’ll understand, so he’ll know. But only silence remains.

Choso doesn’t say anything, just lets the moonlight streaming from the windows encase you both in half light, half-darkness. You can’t see the smudges on his hands, but you can see the yearning in his eyes, like he too has so much to say, so much for you to understand and accept.

Click.

Both of your eyes dart to the entrance, there’s a security guard, holding a flashlight, aimed right you. There’s no way to escape. That’s what your thumping heart is telling you; you’ve been caught. And you haven’t done anything wrong.

“Hey! Did you do this?” He yells.

You’re rendered speechless, frozen from the realisation that there’s no way out of this. Without looking at him, can’t bear to discover what expression he’s wearing now that it’s all unravelling between you, you walk to the guard and let him drag you of there.

You don’t look back.

——

“What would possess you to vandalise private property?” The Dean questions.

His bald head is shiny, and the light’s reflection is all you can focus on as he thumps his fist against the mahogany desk separating you both. Thank God, too, because by the looks of that bulging vein on his forehead, he's pretty keen on giving you a lesson or two. It’s just you and him in his stately, stuffy office. The walls are lined with tall, dark wood bookshelves, which in turn are filled with old, leather-bound books in perfect condition, not a single dust in sight.

“I’m sorry.”

“It goes without saying, I’m sure, that I’m disappointed in you,” he ignores you, voice gruff and measured, all condescending and pretentious. You’re convinced that’s not even his natural accent. “You have the talent, the potential, to do anything with your gifts. Your works have won many awards, and you could one day find them in museums or galleries across the world. Instead, this —this is how you choose to leave your mark?”

The chair squeaks when you shift uncomfortably, and your eyes choose to scan his meticulous desk, as opposed to his beady ones. There’s not a single paper angled wrong, no pens misaligned, not a smudge or even a water mark.

“You’ve disgraced this fine institution. Our beloved Eden University for the Excellent has stood as a beacon for ambition, sophistication and innovation! And with every act of ‘artistic rebellion’ with your ‘cursed death paintings’, or the like, you have threatened everything we have built for centuries!”

You could try and defend yourself, could rebuff the accusations since you are, of course, innocent. But, well, the evidence is damning: you were at the scene of the crime, you’re an art student, you have attended practically every protest on campus, have liked posts from Cursed Womb’s fan-pages, and damn it, you had paint all over your shirt and hands.

You’re fucked.

He leans back in his chair, sighing as he folds his glasses onto the desk. “There are no excuses; none I will accept. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I hereby — “

The door slams open.

You both jump.

“Dean Hanami,” a sneer projects through the office and you recognise it immediately as belonging to a guy that knocked on your door and glared at you as if you were dirt on his shoe. “We have much to discuss.”

When you twist in your seat, you’re alarmed to find three men: Sukuna in a newer looking jacket than you remembered, an old man in a suit, and a guy you haven’t seen in almost two weeks.

Choso’s not looking at you, he’s not even entering the room, choosing instead to hang around by the doorway.

“Mr. Ryomen, I am in the middle of a meeting,” the Dean splutters.

Sukuna pokes your shoulder with a pen he picked up from the desk, looking over at you with complete disgust, like you’re a little cockroach. Still as rude as ever, he’s signalling for you to leave and as you look between the two men, one much older than the other, you choose to go with your instincts and rush out of there.

“This is how it’s going to work,” he drawls, sliding into your seat and snapping his fingers at the man in a suit, “you’re going to give back everything I want, and you’re going to let this Cursed Womb farce go.”

The last thing you hear is the sheer humiliation of the Dean’s defeated stammering. You close the door behind you.

Without looking at Choso, you walk down the hallway.

“Y/n, we should talk,” he follows beside you.

“Now you want to talk?” You sigh. You know you’re not being fair. Counting to ten, you try a softer approach. “Listen, Choso, it's been a long morning. Can we have this talk somewhere private? These hallways are so depressing.”

He nods, his pigtails moving with him. Wordlessly, he leads you outside, to his parked car, it’s all shiny and sleek, classic Ryomen money, and you get into the passenger seat.

It’s odd being in such close proximity with him when he’s avoided you for so long, but you try to get comfortable regardless, ignoring the elephant in the room. There’s a Cursed Womb sized hole between you and there’s so much to be said but you’re afraid you’ll push him, that you’ll say the wrong thing and everything will be for nought; you’ll go back to being strangers, passing each other by, just like last year.

And, whatever you feel for him, you just can’t let that happen.

“Choso,” you begin, voice soft, “what happened? What happened between us?”

Driving, he doesn’t dare look at you, can only chew on the inside of his cheek before seemingly deciding on the right words. “I liked you. From the very beginning, I liked you. People either like me ‘cause of my family or 'cause of rumours, but you’re one of the very few people that actually reached out, saw me as an equal.”

You’re silent. He’s opening up in a way he has never before and you don’t dare disturb his flow, like one would watch a Master at work. Everything about him is compelling, the whites of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel harder than he should, the furrow of his brows as he thinks hard, the way his gaze slides over to you, just not meeting your eyes, and even the way he studies you, in just your thin jumper and jeans and turns up the heater without asking.

Trees fly by, everything a blur as you keep your gaze fixed solely on him. He drives pretty smoothly, unlike you. You're always pressed right up against the wheel, eyes darting to every mirror like a car would appear in the millisecond you looked away. But him...he drives like it's second nature, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick.

“Despite me not being very open and particularly approachable I guess, you still made the effort to reach out, to include me in discussions, to ask if I’m coming to class — even lecturers have stopped asking. And you’re very smart! I like how passionate you are, you’re so full of great ideas, practically beaming with them. You never lose your optimism even when your art gets critiqued too harshly.”

This is the first time anyone’s ever described you like this, like he appreciates you by pure virtue of your existence and the way he sees your hard work, the strength it takes to get back up that you hadn’t recognised in yourself -- it feels like the way one would appreciate Starry Night.

You can tell he practised this speech.

“But,” there’s a tremble in his voice and it makes your hand twitch, “you don't like me. Not like how I like you. And it makes me upset. Because you're so great and nice and pretty. Not that I like you because of your appearance, even though you have a very nice body. I mean that respectfully! Okay, actually just forget I said that. I like you for lots of different reasons. And I've been trying to get you to see me as more than your classmate or just your friend. But it's all pointless because you like Cursed Womb.”

“Choso, you are Cursed Womb.”

The car screeches to a halt.

His hand flies out, pressing hard on your chest to stop you from flying forward. Thank goodness you’re wearing your seatbelt. And thank goodness the road is empty.

“What the fuck!”

“Sorry!” He pants. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise.”

Like you’ve been possessed, you laugh. It’s more a cackle than anything else to be honest, but the look of utter shock and disbelief on his face is making you tear up, your sides hurting as you cradle them. “Oh my god, Choso, you should have seen your face. HA!”

He’s panicking, hands waving in the air as he tries to decide between lifting your hair up to inspect for damage and going to the steering wheel so he can drive off to safety, where the chances of a car accident caused by your blunt mouth are slim. Conflicted, he decides to keep them in his lap as he winces at your chortles. You’re finding this way too funny.

“You’re being mean,” he pouts.

Wiping tears from your eyes, you’re desperately trying to calm down, trying to school your features into something more neutral or, better yet, something serious so you can have a mature, adult conversation. But he’s just so adorable you can’t help yourself.

“Sorry, Choso,” you playfully frown at him, making a puppy dog pout so he’ll cave in. “But be honest here, sweetheart. You didn’t actually think you were slick, did you?”

Like a child, he smacks his steering wheel, all grumpy and upset. “No one else knew.”

“That’s ‘cause no one else tried to know. Sure, people were investigating, trying to piece together clues, but no one really wanted to know; the mystery was addictive, and that’s what peopled liked. But you think you’re the only one who pays attention? I watch you all the time. Plus, your family’s presence today was concrete proof; Sukuna would never do that just because you asked, right? And on top of all of that, you’re not a very good liar, sweet Choso,” you coo.

He stutters, “B-but you never said. You kept talking about him l-like —"

“Like he’s not you?” You finish for him.

“Yes! Even that night when I asked you to hang out, you didn’t want to go with me but when I mentioned the painting, you said yes.”

Your hand reaches out to play with a loose lock of hair from his messy pigtails and he lets you, his eyes flutter shut when your hand grazes his cheek. Heart clenching, you sigh again. “I was genuinely busy, Choso. But when you mentioned that ‘your friend’ painted again, I knew that meant trouble. What you do is dangerous, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“What about the other time when you didn’t want to have lunch with me? And you just wanted to work?”

You giggle, playfully pulling at his hair, and he has to pretend he’s not getting hard. “Choso, you do realise we have to balance our project on top of our schoolwork, right? Like we have to actually study and work, to meet deadlines?”

Choso pouts again and you smush your thumb against his plump lips, easing away the tension there. All muffled, he whines, “But I wanted to have lunch with you!”

“And we enjoyed sandwiches, did we not? Which by the way, you never paid me back for. But eh, that's okay. Just treat me out next time -- I'm a broke college student.”

He groans, pulling away to smack his head against the wheel. It honks and you laugh again. He’s clearly embarrassed and frustrated and he doesn’t know where to begin, so you try for him.

“Choso, sweetheart,” you rub his back, “don’t be upset. I’ll be completely honest: I was messing with you. I kinda just wanted to see how far things will go. I mean, I knew as soon as you told me he’s your ‘friend’ that you were Cursed Womb. It’s such an obvious throwaway; I hope you weren’t feeling very proud of yourself.”

Scrunching his nose at you, he sinks back into his seat. The road is still empty, and he doesn’t seem to have any desire to drive off yet. So, you let him take it all in, rubbing his shoulder in pity for the poor guy who was clearly so proud of himself for keeping such a huge secret from everyone.

“What’s gonna happen with the Dean?” You just realised technically you were expelled or were going to be expelled. No longer a student, you aren’t sure what you would do as a non-student — would you even make a very inspirational contributive member of society?

What’s next?

Taxes and mortgages?

You shudder.

Choso grabs your hand, holding it in his lap as he fiddles with your rings, clinking them with his own. His nails are painted black in true male art student fashion and his fingers are so beautifully long and slender you’re not afraid to admit that you’ve stared at them a little too long during clay sculpting class.

“The family’s going to take care of it. Make it go away like they did when Sukuna beat up some guy who pushed Yuji. Or when I got caught by some other security guard.”

You nodded. “Where does that leave us?”

“Us?”

“There is an us, right, Choso?”

He fiddles with your ring finger, and you try really hard not to notice the hearts in his eyes. “Do you want there to be us? It’s not because I’m Cursed Womb, is it?”

Of course, you don’t blame him for feeling this way; you played around too much, gave him too much power when you really should have made the decisions to begin with, forced him to confront everything that was unspoken between you much sooner. Then there wouldn’t be this awkward energy that's holding him back from meeting your eyes.

“Choso, I never liked you because you were Cursed Womb. Sure, I liked Cursed Womb. I stand by everything I said — he’s cool, he stands for what’s right, he sends a message and isn’t afraid to put his art out there to be critiqued by the masses. How many people can say that? But I liked him like one likes a pop star! You, on the other hand, I like you as you are. All shy and sweet and considerate. And I know the picture of me was from you, by the way.”

He opens his mouth to argue, and you shut him up with a stern look.

“We’re project partners, Choso!” You laugh. “I’ve seen your handwriting and the way you write your Cs, you silly silly boy.”

“But you teased me anyways."

With a shrug, you explain, "You liked it."

And then he’s kissing you.

His seatbelt is off, and you’re being pressed back into your seat, his hands cradling your face. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and it’s so Choso you can only moan in his mouth. He’s holding you like the two lovers of Rodin, with so much care, so much passion, it's leaving you breathless. You feel so much warmth and adoration through every lick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth and every moan of your name he’s breathing into you.

You push him back, taking your belt off so you can climb into his lap whilst he pushes the seat back. He kisses down your neck, sucking your pulse point and gripping your hip as if he’s scared you’re just a figment of his imagination. And when you grind down on his hard length, he moans your name again. You’re soaking.

“I’m sorry for teasing you too much.”

With tentative hands, he lifts your sweater up your stomach, searching your eyes for any resistance. You smile and take it off for him. He wastes no time sucking a tit, flicking the hard bud with his tongue and you’re gripping his pigtails. That makes him groan.

“I’ll forgive you if you do one thing for me,” his words are garbled, on account of him trying to swallow the entire globe of your breast, cheeks all puffed up, and you can’t help but press a kiss against his forehead. “Call me Cho again.”

“What?” His teeth graze your sensitive nipple and you arch into him, eyes crossing.

“You only call me Cho when we’re like this, touching in a way we shouldn’t.”

“Do I?” Grinding down on his dick, you tug a pigtail back so you can tilt his face away from your wet tits and back to your mouth. You kiss him again, craving his taste, his warmth. “Sorry…Cho.”

He bucks into your clothed core, straight up to your clit and you’re moaning into each other’s mouths. This isn’t enough, you both need more. Neither of you even care that you’re on the side of a road and it’s midday.

“I want you,” he whispers, and he’s tearing up, the frustration building up to a point where he’s clawing your jeans off and burying his face between your tits and inhaling deep. “Can I? Can I have you?”

“Of course, Cho. I’m yours,” you kiss his hair. “You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.

Because the next thing you know, the seat is folding back and you’re being thrown onto the seat, facing the plush roof. He’s tugging your jeans down, pulling the material as if it’s singlehandedly his worst enemy. You can only rub his head as he frantically looks between your face, your tits and your panties like he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s desperately asking for permission, for guidance.

“Choso, we can do whatever you want, just take your time.” And then, as an afterthought, you add, “Although, you shouldn’t take too long since we are outside. If we get caught, I’m not sure your family can take care of the charges we’ll face.”

He nods and then with dark, unfocused eyes, he shoves his face between your leg as he kneels on the floor, spreading your thighs with his strong arms. Sniffing is all he does, inhaling deeply and moaning. You blush, pushing his hair from his face. And, as if the urge has gotten too much, he pushes your panties to the side and licks a strip up your slit, from quivering hole to the clit.

Your back arches off the seat.

Moans and groans escape you, shaky breaths fanning the air as he sucks your clit, mumbling your name and the vibrations leaves you lightheaded.

“Tastes so good. Knew you would taste so good.” He pushes in a finger inside and he groans with you when he wriggles it. “So wet, baby. You’re so hot a-and wet and I want to stay here forever.”

He curls his fingers inside, rubbing against that spot inside of you that has you gushing cream all over his mouth, and he laps it up like he’s starved. Just as a car drives past and he dives deeper into you, you find yourself cumming all over his mouth and fingers, clutching his pigtails harder.

"Fuuuuuck, don't stop, Cho!" You ride out your orgasm on his face, spreading your wetness all over his chin and his cheeks, clit bumping against his nose.

Shuffling up, something wet and hard traces your lips. It’s salty. You don’t hesitate to widen your jaw, letting him push his hot and hard length into your throat. It’s an awkward angle, with you laid not fully back and him having to crouch down, but you manage a few suckles before he gets frustrated and embarrassed, and he climbs back down to pet at your pussy.

"That's just going to have to wait later, I guess," you chuckle.

A blush blanketing his cheeks, he nods and strokes his dick. He must have taken it out when he was licking you. It's long and hard and your body remembers the feel of it in your hands. And Monet! His tip is flushed red, leaking cum like a faucet. How adorable.

You see him lining his beautiful cock to your quivering hole, but you have to press a hand against his chest to still him. “Tut tut, Cho. Do I need to lecture you on the importance of safe sex, silly boy?”

He blushes and pats his pockets with frantic, panicked movements. You sigh. You didn’t bring one either.

“Well, you’re not allowed inside without a condom,” you mutter to his cock, telling it off as if it’s responsible for its owner irresponsibility. “I mean, really, Choso. You’re a grown man, a college student! You should always have condoms, silly.”

“I didn’t think we’d ever be together so I didn’t buy any,” he mumbles, laying down on you so he can hide his sheepish expression in your shoulder.

The implication warms your chest, making you pout and rub his back. You coo, “Aw, did my baby not want to fuck anyone else? Just me?”

Pushed to his limit, he bites your neck and then quickly soothes it with his tongue as if upset at himself for hurting you. But it’s you who feels the most guilt; you played around too much, teased him too far, and now his hips are making short thrusts against your pussy. He just can’t help himself. It’s as if the magnetic pull of your cunt is too much for a weak man like him. You’re going to have to work very hard to earn his forgiveness even if he’s willingly thrown it at you.

Starting, of course, by wrapping your legs around his hips and pressing him closer. You whisper, “Make yourself cum on my pussy, Cho.”

He groans. Maybe it’s the seductive way you ordered him to, the vulgar term you used, or perhaps it’s the fact that you called him a nickname he loves to hear. Well, whatever it is, it’s making him whimper in your ear as he thrusts against your lips, coating his length with your juices. His tip bumps against your clit and you both moan.

“I-I missed you, y/n!” He cries in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

Again and again, he thrusts, still clinging onto you and holding you close. You can feel his desperation, sincerity, and his pre-cum all seeping into your skin. Rolling back, your eyes disappear — this is supposed to be for him, and yet you’re panting too, holding him tight, shirt threatening to rip under your claws.

The fact that you’re naked and he isn’t is making you sensitive all over, from the way your nipples are rubbing against his chest and how he pinches at one all the way to the mumbling of your name, like a mantra, against your neck.

You’re going to cum too.

“Ngh, Cho! Keep going!”

He must have liked that because his thrusting gets more frantic, his cock head meeting your clit again and again and you’re both nearing your high. Your nails dig into his back and he bites your neck to stifle the broken moan that escapes him. Hot ropes of cum paint your stomach and it makes you arch your back once more, eyes closing shut.

"So warm ngh!" He groans into your ear.

Hips stuttering, he drags out his orgasm like his body can’t help himself and a beat or two passes. He falls on top of you, still muttering your name like his brain has short-circuited and it’s all that’s left in there.

“You like me better than Cursed Womb, right?”

You laugh. “Cho, you silly man. You’re the same person.”

Choso pushes himself up onto his elbows, slightly out of breath and dazed, a blush highlighting his face tattoo. You kiss him on the nose which brings out what sounds like a mewl from him. He copies the movement, and it tickles you. That makes him smile, still panting.

“I know, but I want to know who you like better,” he licks a bead of sweat from your forehead and you have to smack his back.

Sighing, you push him off, concerned over the fact that you’re naked and in a public space. He lets you scramble back to your seat, fixing your panties and leggings and he hands you your jumper. All in silence, you get settled back in.

He starts the engine, looking a little upset and you have to still his hand with yours. Words aren’t really enough, you know that. So, the only thing to do is to show him.

“Take us to my place, Cho.”

—

He’s confused, head tilting and brows scrunched together like a little puppy as you lead him to your dorm room. Whereas you’re practically buzzing with excitement, struggling to get the keys in due to your shaking hands. But you manage and you welcome him in.

It’s the first time he’s been inside your place — there wasn’t a particular reason why you waited, it was really just because his place is bigger and cooler and generally a much better place to work in.

Despite it being a pretty standard room, he’s marvelling at the space, eyeing the pictures of your friends strewn across the walls, the fairy lights and the open journal on the table full of your watercolour works. Choso looks like he just entered Santa’s workshop, and you giggle as you press your face in his back, hugging him and swaying you guys side to side.

“Sorry about the mess, Cho. I didn’t know you’d come over.”

He holds your hands, swaying with you, but his focus is on only one thing.

There, on your easel, stationed by the window for natural lighting, is a sketch. The lines are messy and criss-crossing, overlapping each other, the lead of the pencil unravelling to create a face loss in thought. It’s tilting its head as its own creation, examining the angles and the proportions, and you can tell it’s completely entranced in its work, losing grip with reality and wholly immersed in their own imagination.

It’s the kind of expression you’ve decided is most beautiful in all your years of looking and sketching and studying. In all the models, in all the strangers, and in all the works of art you’ve come across, only one figure has captivated you as much it has.

“Recognise him, Cho Cho?”

Despite the teasing tone of your voice, you’re actually pretty nervous. This has never been a problem for you; you’ve presented your work to countless of people, by virtue of being an art student, you’ve consented to being ripped apart again and again. But this time, you’re feeling a certain kind of insecurity you never have before.

“Do you like it?”

“This is me?” He breathes out.

You bury your face harder in his back, feeling a blush creeping up. “Yeah, Cho. I started it back in first year. I never got to finish it because, well, we’re art students and we all have ADHD or whatever. But when we became project partners, I’ve been adding to it, adding lines and details for every time I noticed something new about you. In fact, I was working on it that night you asked me to hang out and I almost turned you down. Sorry about by the way, baby.”

Waving a hand over the general area, you explain further, "At the end of first year, you got that face tattoo, and I struggled all summer adding it in because I only saw it once and wanted to recreate it from pure memory. But I couldn't ever seem to get the proportions right."

"Y-you started drawing me in first year?"

Pressing a kiss to his back and smiling at the flex of his muscles, you think back to a memory. "It wasn't like I was obsessed with you, or anything creepy, I swear. It's just that, you're a pretty handsome dude. The List agrees and well, when I first saw you in the lecture hall, I thought wow, someone needs to capture that guy in a drawing or something. And you know how us artists work — we develop fixations. I guess, you could say you've been my on and off one for a year now."

That was a lot of words and you’re not sure he registered any of it because of how silent he is, but then he’s clasping your hands tightly. And you’re shocked into silence when something cold slides down one of your fingers. On your left hand. Your ring finger.

“Cho?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he shakily whispers.

You want to laugh — it’s such a sudden admission and you’re fairly convinced it’s just that post-nut high. But the way he says it, the way it’s so serious, so real makes you pull away.

He turns, desperate to see your face. And with another whisper, he admits, “I have one of you too.”

“What?”

“I painted a portrait of you. In my place.”

It strikes you there. You remember. The painting with the tarp over it. That was of you, and he hid it because you were coming over. With a grin, you raise your hand up to eye the golden signet ring on your finger, way too big and threatening to fall off if you don’t hold it tight.

“We’re a pretty cool duo, aren’t we?”

Choso falls to his knees, pigtails bouncing, an expression of desperation and torment written all over it. He's never looked more beautiful staring up at you. "Please let me be your boyfriend!"

You laugh again, hands on your hips as you shake your head in disbelief. Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with, "Alright, I guess I can grant you that one wish. Actually, since you gave me two orgasms, I'll give you another one."

He reaches for your hand with his eyes closed and you let him press it against his face. Cupping his cheek, your smile drops and you feel a fire burning inside and explode in your chest when he presses a distressed kiss to your wrist, full of panic like his brain is malfunctioning and he can't settle on one thought or feeling.

Then, his eyelids fly open and meet yours with a clarity that has never been there. Never. Not even since first year when you made eye contact in passing and you couldn't get his face out of your mind. And it's like all the anguish you saw that night is gone, the chalk mural fading from view.

More certain than ever, you know he'll give you all the opportunities you need to finish your portrait of him, and every new one you'll make. And your project will be renewed with a deeper level of teamwork, because you've transcended the definitions of your connection.

“I want to eat you out again.”

And well, who are you to say no to a man on his knees?

#jjk x reader #jjk choso #jjk smut #choso x reader #jjk fluff #choso smut #choso fluff #jjk drabble #jjk fic #choso drabble #modern au

716 notes · View notes

dyaz-stories · 1 year ago

Text

put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

previous · next

A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it’s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then — not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

#hyunsu x reader #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home #sweet home netflix #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #sweet home season 2 #hyun su x reader #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader #my writing

1K notes · View notes

kokonoiis · 7 months ago

Text

gentle lover── pt. 02 ❝ his favorite place to kiss you ❞

Ⅰ. tokyo revengers ft. r. ken, s. manjiro, b. keisuke, h. kazutora, m. takashi, s. haruchiyo Ⅱ. blurbs Ⅲ. tw. slight angst in sanzu's, and also slight mention of obsession in sanzu's. Ⅳ. a/n. second round lets fucking goooooo !! writing another round of guys because i know everyone deserves to be softly loved by their faves

── ryuguji ken. forehead taking care of people comes naturally to ken, everyone already knew that long before it was ever said out loud. he likes knowing that you've eaten three square meals a day, and that you were going to sleep on time and waking up early enough that you had time to lounge around before you really had to do anything. he liked to cook for you and take care of you, often doing your hair in any way that you were feeling that day, knowing intimate things about you without you ever needing to speak up and tell him. he just knew you, heart and soul. the surprising tenderness of a man like him especially shows when he's getting ready to leave for work that day, his fingers finding their way to your chin to tilt your head up as he kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment longer than truly necessary before pulling away. he'd let you worry over his appearance, straightening his collar and smoothing over his outfit. he'd tell you not to miss him too much as he goes out, and that he'll be home before you know it. he'll be thinking of your kiss throughout the entire day.

── sano manjiro. shoulder as much as mikey pretends he's strong as tough, he loves being in your arms. he loves being near you, able to touch your skin, feeling your warmth against his body. it's what brings him peace at night, and what calms him down when he needs a moment just to be human. he loves knowing you're safe, right there in his arms, and he's safe in yours. he doesn't have to worry about much, doesn't have to put on a brave front. he can just simply be mikey, a much softer person than people liked to give him credit for. and that softness is present when he snuggles into your body to press little kisses all along your shoulder, feeling the softness of your skin underneath his lips. sometimes he would stop kissing and just rest his forehead against your shoulder, breathing softly and just taking in the tranquility of the situation. you made him feel safe, and cared for, with your arms around his frame, holding him close to you like you never wanted to let him go. mikey could stay in your embrace forever, just like this for as long as you'd let him be.

── baji keisuke. lips keisuke is not a man who just waits for what he wants, he takes it whenever he feels the need. and that includes kissing you. he doesn't play around, not when he wants your lips on his, although he's always being told that he shouldn't be quite so... much with it. the way keisuke is much like his personality - fiery, strong, passionate. he kisses you like he's never going to be able to kiss you again and he doesn't want to regret his final kiss. even in front of others, he kisses you with the same passion, proudly proclaiming his love in front of anyone around. he doesn't shy away from the thought of people knowing you're his, and he's yours in turn. you mean so much to him that he couldn't possibly deny you of any type of kisses you wanted, but he loves the feeling of your lips on his, kissing him back even if he took you off guard with his kiss. you'll be able to feel him smile into this kiss as his hand finds your chin to steady you, keeping you there for a moment longer as he enjoyed himself. and when he does pull away, he pecks you one more time on your lips, just for good measure.

── hanemiya kazutora. jawline no matter how many times kazutora tries to tell you otherwise, he's impulsive. all the time, he does things without thinking much about it, whether its silly little blunders to accidentally creating a bigger problem that the two of you are going to have to tackle together, and that includes how he loves on you, too. he kisses you without having a direct goal in mind, he just wants to cover you in as many kisses as you'll let him before the two of you have to get on with life. he loves kissing your face, letting you know that you're loved everywhere, always mumbling something under his breath about how attractive he really found you with his hands in your hair. he'll kiss your jawline right underneath your ear, cuz he's able to feel the muscles in your face as you smile and giggle about his cute little ministrations. from there, he can choose where to kiss you depending on his mood. he could kiss lower down your neck until he gets to the crest of your neck, or he could kiss higher up until he reached your lips, it really just depends, but he always starts right there, and had no intention of changing that.

── mitsuya takashi. nose mitsuya really doesn't mean too, but sometimes he finds himself babying you just a little bit. he does enjoy taking care of people, but he also knows that people need to be independent and walk on their own sometimes, too. while he's more than willing to help you out with anything that you could possibly need of him, sometimes he realizes that he could treat you as if you weren't able to do it yourself. of course, he catches himself from doing this any time it starts, and his way of apologizing is always the same. a sincere sorry, saying that he knows you're more than capable of doing this on your own, but he's always there to help you if you need it, and then he presses his nose against yours in a little symbol of his affection for you, before moving away and giving the tip of your nose a little kiss, his hands holding both sides of your face in a loving embrace. it never fails to make you scrunch your nose and giggle a little bit, which is exactly what he was looking for. he loves making you happy, loves knowing that you trust him so much to have him by your side, and he'd kiss you as many times as you'd let him.

── sanzu haruchiyo. wrist knowing that you were alive and okay was everything to sanzu. he needed to know every day that the heart inside of your chest still beat. it wasn't incredibly obsessive, it was just him worrying. he worried that someday he might lose you, or that something bad might happen, even when life was good and calm. always being on alert, several times throughout the day, he would take your hand lovingly, turn it over, and gently press a kiss against your wrist. it was just a cute habit of his to you, but to him, he loved that he could still feel your pulse steadily beating, and especially when it starts to race a little bit for him. there, he would trail up his kisses from your pulse to your arm, depending on whether or not you had the time, until he got to your shoulder, and then your neck, until his lips rested against yours, and his body heat had invaded yours, holding you as close as possible with his fingers now laced in yours. kissing you like this meant the world to him. it let him know that you were safe and healthy in his arms, and that you were still as in love with him as he was with you. and to him, that was everything.

──kokonoiis 2024

844 notes · View notes

waliminium · 2 months ago

Text

Tailored Encounters

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: implied age gap, fluff, light romantic tension, no major triggers Word count: 659 Summary: As the daughter of Frank the tailor, you’ve always been surrounded by impeccable suits and high-end clients. But none quite as captivating as Harvey Specter. When he starts making regular visits for minor suit "adjustments," you begin to notice a pattern: it’s not just the clothes he’s interested in.

The bell above the door chimed softly, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You’d recognize that confident stride anywhere.

“Harvey,” you greeted, glancing up from the workbench where you were adjusting a hem. “Back so soon?”

“Frank in?” he asked, his tone casual.

You gestured toward the back room. “He’s on a delivery run. You’re early, though. The suit isn’t ready until Thursday.”

“Actually…” Harvey adjusted his already-perfect tie, his gaze sweeping the shop. “I think the cuffs on my last suit might be a little tight. Thought I’d stop by and have them checked.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tight cuffs?” You’d measured that suit down to the millimeter, and you knew it was flawless.

“Yeah,” he replied, with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Snug.”

“Uh-huh.” You fought back a grin, setting your tools down. “I’ll get the measuring tape.”

He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the supposed cuff issue. Instead, he wandered around the shop, casually running a finger along the fabric bolts stacked neatly on the shelves. He lingered by the counter, watching as you prepared.

“You’re good at this,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, startled. “At tailoring?”

“At everything,” he clarified, with a glint of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

The next day, the bell jingled again, and there he was—Harvey Specter, sharp as ever, holding an accessory box in his hand.

“Forgot to pick up a tie pin yesterday,” he announced, setting the box on the counter.

You gave him a look. “You don’t usually forget things.”

He shrugged. “Even I’m not perfect.”

You opened the box to inspect the pin. “This is the one you ordered last week. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing.” He leaned against the counter, his smirk firmly in place. “But maybe you can suggest something better.”

You rolled your eyes but humored him, pulling out a few alternatives. As you showed them, he asked, “So, are you always here, or do you take time off?”

You tilted your head at the sudden change in topic. “Depends. Why?”

“Just curious.”

Later that evening, as you were locking up, Harvey strolled in again, no excuses this time. “You’re late,” you teased, holding the door open for him.

“Had a meeting,” he replied smoothly. “I was hoping to catch you.”

You let him in, flicking the lights back on. “Don’t tell me—another cuff issue?”

“No,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

You paused, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re always busy in here,” he said, gesturing to the shop. “Do you ever take time for yourself?”

You shrugged, fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve. “It’s a family business. There’s always something to do.”

“Maybe you should let someone else handle it for a night.”

“And do what instead?”

He smiled, but this time it wasn’t his usual smug grin. It was softer, warmer. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

The next day, he returned—because of course he did. This time, there were no pretenses, no accessories to inspect.

“I meant what I said last night,” he began, leaning on the counter. “Dinner. Just you and me.”

You crossed your arms, feigning skepticism. “Is this another one of your deals? Butter up the tailor’s daughter for a discount?”

He chuckled. “No deals. Just an honest invitation.”

You hesitated, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “I don’t know, Harvey. You seem like the kind of guy who always has an angle.”

“Not this time,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll even let you pick the place. No strings attached.” You studied him for a moment, searching for the catch, but all you saw was sincerity. Finally, you relented.

“Fine,” you said. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his grin widening.

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fanfic #suits series #suits imagine #suits tv

124 notes · View notes

obliviouscxnt · 1 year ago

Text

Home Azriel x Reader

a/n: forewarning I'm a firm believer in things getting worse before they get better. I hope you enjoy!:)))

synopsis: azriel has to resort to desperate measures in order to ensure your safety

Warnings: SA, depictions of RAPE, angst, violence, minor fluff

5.3k words

pt.1 | pt.2

The feeling was unshakable, those hands grabbing you, forcing you into the darkness. The freezing cold void of absolutely nothing and everything all at once.

It’d been a day since the incident, the bruises and scratches on your body were already healing, getting better by the second.

You hadn’t felt anything since then, no presence in the corner of your mind, no eyes on you, just silence.

You didn’t know why its absence brought you no comfort. Why it made you feel worse. Like your body was trying to warn you about something your mind hadn’t caught up with yet.

However, that was the last thing you wanted to think about as you lay beside Azriel’s form. Listening to his soft heartbeat. Letting the rhythm soothe you into a state of calm.

You were so tired, you just needed a little bit of sleep, to rejuvenate your brain. And if you had any hope of avoiding that nightmare you had to keep it far out of your thoughts. Distract your mind with other things. Conjure a nice dream for yourself. A dream about you and the shadowsinger.

A dream where the two of you could just exist together. With no worries, no foreboding feelings in your hearts, just you and him, and your family, and happiness.

Slowly that disturbed twisting feeling of unease faded away, and you closed your eyes. Ready for sleep to take you away.

Then it rushed you.

Darting out from whatever crevice it had been lurking in. Invading your mind, taking hold of your senses.

It tore apart your dream, cracked open your fabrication, and sent a shockwave through your system. It felt like the magic under your skin flinched.

You gasp, eyes snapping open as you sit up.

You feel Azriel’s hands on your shoulders, then you see his face in front of yours. Hazel eyes darkened with worry.

It had been hiding from you, waiting for you to let your guard down. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab you and pull you into its never-ending darkness.

It snapped your dream world in half.

You shiver.

“I don’t know what to do.” You confess to him. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.”

Azriel’s hands grip you tighter and pull you into his chest. His wings cocooning you. “We’ll go see the sisters first thing in the morning. You can give it back to Elaine. Let her deal with it.”

You swallow. Knowing that wasn’t an option. It would destroy her. And in turn, destroy Feyre.

He reads your face. “You think you need to keep it? That because of your abilities you have some obligation to? You don’t. What if your abilities make it worse? At least, with Elaine it can’t take form.”

You don’t voice your thoughts, you can’t fight with him.

You don’t say that it would eat the newly turned Fae alive in her fragile state. Pick away at her mind until there was nothing left. That you at least had a fighting chance against it, even if you hadn’t quite figured that part out yet.

But you don’t need to say anything, not when he could see it all in your eyes. The shadowsinger sighed, so frustrated, so powerless, he wanted to do so much more, wanted to ease your stress, but he didn’t know how other than by being with you. Offering you his support.

It didn’t feel like nearly enough.

He held you the rest of the night.

*****

You’d abandoned sleep. Until you could find a way to counter this thing, to keep it caged, you would stay awake.

You were very experienced in nightmares, probably the most experienced. You could manifest the perfect nightmare for any person, reduce the finest warrior into a sniveling coward at your feet. But you’d never taken somebody's nightmare before. Never had to hide from someone else’s fears.

Even if you wanted to give it back to Elaine, you wouldn’t know the first thing to do. It was very different than twisting someone’s fears.

So for the past week, you’d been doing research. Re-reading those books from Helion, scouring the library for anything else that mentioned dreams, nightmares, or the subconscious. When your brain needed a break from words you trained your body. Joining Cassian from time to time.

The training backfired miserably, making you more tired, body aching with fatigue every hour, minute, and second of the day.

But you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t go in that cauldron again. Not when it could hold you there. Keep you from waking. And even though Rhys had started sleeping at the House of Wind to ensure that you wouldn’t be trapped, you couldn’t risk it.

You didn’t know if it would continue to attack you, like normal nightmares did, you had no way of knowing what its next move would be. It didn’t act like anything you’d encountered before.

It could attack someone else next time, attack Azriel.

That thought alone was enough to keep you awake for the past week.

But with each passing day, keeping your eyes open got harder and harder.

“You can’t let this continue.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. You’d taken all of his focus, diminished the spymaster to a man who couldn’t even hear Cassian’s footsteps. Which were not at all quiet.

The two Illyrians watch you from the library doorway. You sat with a multitude of books scattered around you, the one you were currently reading almost wider than the length of your hand and you were already halfway through. They watch your eyelids slowly fall, watch you try to fight it by blinking rapidly and shaking your head.

Azriel was in full agreement with Cassian. This couldn’t go on.

Azriel feels hopeful when your eyes finally close, you’re head falling back against the sofa cushion. He holds his breath as he waits for you to sink deeper into sleep, not daring to make a sound in fear of startling you awake. But you shoot up a moment later.

Eyes flying open as you grab the couch like you had to catch yourself from falling. Head snapping to and fro as you frantically search for something that isn’t there. Harshly rubbing the sleep from your eyes over and over, but it only makes your eyes burn with a fire that could only be sated by letting them shut.

In a moment of desperation, you grip your wrist, letting the sharp claws dig into your arm. Repressing the sleep in your system with pain.

Your hand is snatched away.

“Stop!” Azriel yells panicked. Watching as blood began to drip down your arm. “Fuck. Cassian can you-“

His brother was already handing him a first aid kit.

The sounds of shaky breaths and ruffling bandages fill the room. You don’t look at him as he wraps your arm, so mortified, so embarrassed he had to see you this way. That anyone could see you this way. So weak.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either. So much emotion filled his face.

So much worry, and love, and sadness.

Then his eyes harden. “You need to sleep.” You try to shake your head but can't with his grip on you. “It’s not a suggestion.”

Tears fill your eyes. No. You can’t. Not when you knew it was salivating at the thought. If it managed to kill you in your sleep, only the Gods knew what could happen. If that horror would be unleashed on the world.

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t.

At first, the shadowsinger was torn on what to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of ordering you to suffer. Still can’t. But you were suffering anyway. He couldn’t watch you deteriorate anymore.

He would sacrifice your trust in him if it meant you were healthy.

*****

Dinner was quiet, Rhys and Amren were busy. So that left you, Azriel, Mor, and Cassian. The Acheron sisters ate in their rooms and kept to themselves, though you had seen the older sister a few times. She joined you in the library every once in a while. She never spoke, never looked your way, but she stayed.

“You look like shit.” Mor had said when she saw you, slapping a hand over her mouth as if realizing she spoke aloud. Leave it to Mor to speak the truth.

“Gee, thanks.” You replied, wanting to send her a smile to let her know you didn’t take it to heart but could only find the energy to slide ungracefully into the chair next to her.

Mor turns to you, forgetting her full plate of food. “Gods, look at you!” You tense as she reaches for your face, fingers brushing the bags under her eyes. Her touch made sleep slowly enter your system again. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” She asks as if she didn’t know the answer to that question. Which she most certainly did.

You don’t have it in you to say anything so instead you start shoveling the tasteless food in your mouth. Forcing yourself to swallow it even though it felt like you were chewing chalk.

“You know we’re here for you, don’t you?” She continued, and the food became increasingly hard to swallow with every word she spoke. “You don’t have to fight this alone, it wasn’t even your battle to begin with.”

Your heart drops at her words. Not your battle?

That’s right, this all started with your selfish need to feel useful. So you wouldn’t have to lay around like a weakling. All you did was make everything worse. Of course, you did.

You reach for your water when you feel the food start to rise back up. The water doesn’t help. Your whole body starts to feel clammy, and your head starts to spin.

So you pause leaning back to take a few slow deep breaths through your nose, swallowing the spit that didn’t stop gathering in your mouth.

“Feyre would hate to see you like this.”

Those words were the final blow.

You jump from your seat, hand on your mouth as you dash out of the dining room. Running for the nearest bin, the house seemed to hear your inner pleas because a bucket was waiting for you in the hallway. You fell to your knees in front of it. Too busy hurling up all the food you just ate to cry out at the pain of your kneecaps slamming into the stone floor.

You feel his warm gentle hands on you. Softly rubbing your back, and pulling away your hair. Waiting patiently for you to finish heaving.

When you could breathe without gagging you leaned into him, letting him wipe your face with his sleeve. Ruining the fine shirt he wore. “Can you call Madja? Tell her I need another tonic?”

The little shots of energy that’d kept you standing the last two days, were all you could think of. You needed them before it was too late. Before a week's worth of sleep could catch up on you.

Before that thing was free to roam.

Azriel looks to Cassian, expression grim, and he nods. The general was rushing off the next second. You hope he’s getting Madja.

A moment later Cassian was running back over and crouching beside you, pushing a glass of water in your hands. You wanted to protest, remembering how the water hadn’t helped just moments before, but Azriel takes the cup and puts it to your lips.

“Drink.” You comply. He tilts the cup up and up and up until you drink the final drop. “There you go.” He whispers, setting the cup aside so both of his hands are free to soothe over your body. “That’s it.”

The effect was swift.

That magic that was always writhing under your skin begins to slow. It’s vibrating energy dying out. Until it wasn't even a tingle.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and your heart dropped. What did he do?

Your head becomes foggy, and your body is no longer your own. You can’t fight it as you slump back, can’t do a single thing when your eyes fall shut, can’t even think as your brain powers off.

All you could do was sleep.

Azriel holds you close to him, lip curling at the smell of your fear permeating through the air. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again, though he knew you couldn’t hear him now.

��It will work,” Mor said from where she leaned against the wall, watching you with a solemn look on her face. She, along with everyone else in the inner circle, was on board with the idea the moment Madja brought it up earlier in the week.

“It better.” He was reluctant until today, until he watched you hurt yourself. The fact that you couldn’t keep your food down was the cherry topper.

Azriel just hoped the Faebane in your system would last longer than the sleeping tonic.

The drug succeeded in quelling your magic, succeeded in its purpose of ridding your mind of that awful thing. But it also succeeded in other things.

Without your magic, you were unable to conjure a happy dream for yourself.

Leaving you trapped in your very own nightmare.

*****

Your mother smiled with pride as she adjusted your hair. “Every male will want you.” Your whole life had led up to this moment, everything you had been taught was for this night. The night a male would choose you.

The night you would submit.

So why weren’t you excited?

“Stop that frowning. It’s unsightly.” Your mother leads you to a mirror. A pressure settles on your chest when you look at yourself.

The sheer white gown did nothing to hide your body. Giving anyone who looked a full view of what was underneath. Your face was painted, your skin shaved and silky—glowing from whatever substance she’d lathered on you—and your wings were spread wide, fluttering at a pace that made every intricate design viewable.

Your mother looked the happiest you’d ever seen her. The expression uncanny on her. “They won’t be able to keep their hands off you.”

You felt something inside you twist at the thought.

“Mother?” You say before you can think better of it. She meets your eyes through the mirror. She looked at you like you were a trophy, an object to be displayed not loved. Not that you ever knew the difference.

I don’t want to do this.

The words were right there. At the forefront of your mind. All you had to do was give them a voice.

But it was like your lips were wired shut. Your mouth doesn’t move, your voice doesn’t work. You say nothing.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you had anyway. You didn’t have a choice, you never did. “Don’t worry, child, none of the others can compare with your beauty. You will not be left unpicked.”

Her words brought you no solace.

You hold your chin high, as she leads you out of the hut and toward the growing horde. You make sure you stand straight, shoulders squared like you had been taught. Make sure your hips swayed just slightly, just enough to keep their attention like your mother had shown you.

Make sure your teeth don’t grit, and your legs don’t shake. Make sure your wings don’t twitch, and your smile doesn’t fall.

Your mother parades you around for every male to see. Laughing at some of the comments they made, insinuating banter between the rowdy ones, reveling in the way they fought over you.

With each laugh, each yell, each claim made upon you that pressure in your chest grew. Except it wasn’t just in your chest now, it was in your stomach, and in your head, and under your skin.

Your wings folded subconsciously, making your mother sink her sharp claws into your wrist. Not enough to bleed, she wouldn’t ruin all her work, but enough to hurt. Enough to make your wings snap back open.

Is this really it?

The feeling gets worse when she leads you toward the other women, and then it doubles when she leaves to sit with the onlookers. Not so much as a goodbye, or even a second glance as she walks away.

Your heart pounds as you blend yourself in with the sea of white.

Maneuvering through the women was easy, each and every one of them was silent, tense, and scared. You try not to look at their faces for too long, didn’t want to be able to notice which ones were missing once everything was over.

It wasn’t uncommon for males to lose themselves to the night, last year seven woman were found dead. Brutalized.

You swallow, heart beating so loud, so fast, it’s all you can hear. It drowns everything out.

I don’t want to do this.

You don’t hear the horn blow. You only know it did when everyone around you began heading through the woodline. You almost trip over yourself as you dash forward. You had to run. You had to hide before the second horn blew. You had to make it till dawn.

Your bare feet don’t feel the sharp rocks and sticks that stab into them. Adrenaline fills your body, pumping through your blood, and muscles. Blocking out the pain.

The shimmering barrier is what makes you come to a stop. You’d never seen them before, the wards that kept your community safe, but there was no denying it. That wall of energy was where your colony ended.

Beyond it, death was inevitable.

There was no hope in flying, male wings are much different from females. Stiffer, sharper, stronger, the males would always be superior in the sky.

So you stay on the ground hiding in a nearby thicket just on the edge of the wards. Arms hugging your knees to your panting chest, making yourself as small as possible.

You hoped nobody would search this far. But you knew the males in your community. They stop at nothing and do anything to get what they want.

When a distant scream echoed through the woods you knew you’d missed the second horn. The males were already hunting.

You hold yourself tighter, trying to force slow breaths in your nose and out of your mouth. Frantically trying to slow down your palpitating heart. But it felt like you weren’t getting air. Your whole body was shivering from the adrenaline, that pressure still building.

You would get found by the sound of your breathing if you kept it up.

“No! Ple-!” Your head snaps in the direction of the scream, much closer than the other one. You try not to think about how it cut off so suddenly, about what could’ve happened to her. What could’ve made her object to a male.

You just need to make it till dawn. Just need to keep hiding. For six more hours.

It was hopeless, there wasn’t nearly enough ground to give the women a fighting chance. The men greatly outnumber the women, making the former even more desperate, even more competitive.

Where was the fun if everyone had a chance at winning?

No, they had to yearn for it. It was what made the Ritual work.

Your head falls to your knees.

You don’t want to end up like your mother.

Three years ago your father had grown tired of her, he participated in that year’s Flowering and never spoke to either of you again. As your mother is far from pure, she can not be used in the ceremonies. Instead, she was made a community whore.

A female for the pent up males who had no luck on Flowering to fuck as they please.

Your mother always said it was necessary. That all the things your people did, there were reasons for.

That Flowering Night was a gift, it provided the magic that grew our blooms. The blooms that supplied our only food source. Nectar.

Of course, you believed her, you’d never known any reason not to. The Middle wasn’t a resourceful place. It was too dangerous to send hunters beyond the wards, and there weren’t even any animals to hunt. Only other monsters. And even they weren’t worth hunting. Bodies usually emaciated with no meat on their bones if any at all.

It was necessary, but that didn’t mean you wanted to do it.

You wouldn’t know until much later that your people were just addicts. That hunting wasn’t an impossible thing, not when they had wings. That they could’ve flown to the Day Court to hunt, or even the Winter Court, but they chose not to. Because nothing could ever compare to their precious Nectar.

Snap.

Your blood runs cold as an older male sniffs around. Fifteen feet from you. His hard wings make a low buzz as they vibrate against each other with frustration.

The male was a brute, muscle stacked upon bulging muscle.

You hold your breath as he slowly gets closer, the buzz becoming louder. If he caught your scent, no amount of shrubbery could keep him from finding you.

He gets closer, and your heart pounds faster. That pressure you feel under your skin now throbbing. Pulsating.

He’s almost ten feet away, if he got any closer he’d undoubtedly smell the fear that left your body in waves.

White dots started filling your vision. You fight with your body to hold it.

A blessing came in the form of a scream, this one even closer than the last. Your throat constricts trying to force air into your system. Your teeth ache from how tightly you clench your jaw.

The male started in that direction. Your throat burned, your head pounding.

Just a second more.

But you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping for air.

The male stops. Then he looks right at you.

You’d never known terror till that moment.

*****WARNING: until the next scene change dark themes will be depicted such as rape and violence, if you do not wish to read proceed to the next “*****”

He pounced, dragging you out of the bushes by the base of your wings. Even though you don’t struggle.

He throws you to the ground, not wasting a second before straddling your thighs. Pinning down your legs. His hands grip the fabric of your gown, tearing it off your shoulder. You want to cover your body, but instead you lay still. Let him run his filthy hands over your breasts, let them squirm their way between your legs.

You let him cause it’s all you’ve ever known.

Even though your mind was screaming.

He is anything but gentle, forcing his way inside, digging around. You can’t stop the cry of pain that leaves you, the tears that fill your eyes, and he moans. Touch becoming rougher, harsher, trying to force another cry from you.

The pain becomes worse when he adds more fingers, shoving his way though.

Like he was trying to rip you open.

His head buries into your shoulder. Sniffing and groaning in your ear. Rutting against you like a wild animal.

Then he bites down, and you scream.

Your hands find his head and that pressure, that jerking energy under your skin devours him.

The male collapses, body twitching on top of you. Teeth still embedded in your shoulder. You're stunned for a moment, but that's quickly replaced with revulsion.

Your arms shake with the effort it takes to roll him off of you. Whimpering when his teeth slowly leave your shoulder.

His hands don't leave you, even though he was now out of reaching distance you could still feel them. Touching, grabbing, digging.

You feel nothing but disgust as you look at the male, watching him mumble, whine, and mewl in his unconscious state. You don’t even get the time to question it, to think about what happened. The heavy footsteps that head your way get closer by the second.

I don’t want to do this.

So you don’t.

For once in your life you disregard all of your teachings. Every rule beaten into you. Each false instinct that’d burrowed into your body. And you run.

Right past the wards.

Because you’d rather die than end up like your mother.

You run and you keep running until your lungs are stabbed with pain, until your legs give out from beneath you, and you crash to the ground.

Your nails dig into the soil as you lay there. To breathe. To think. To cry.

Maybe you could just wait here till dawn. Maybe then you could go back. Nobody would have to know you even left.

But the chill of the crooked woods laugh at you. You hear the sound of old trees creaking in the wind, calling you foolish.

You couldn’t go back, you’d attacked a male. There was nowhere for you now, just death.

Still, there was a senseless part of your brain that hoped this was all a wretched night terror. That any minute now you would wake up to your mom’s voice. And you would be in bed. And Flowering will have already passed. And you wouldn’t have went because your mom knew you didn’t want to. And she wouldn’t have wanted you to go through it either, because of how ruthless the males were. And your life would go on until the next year came around. And maybe then you would be ready. Maybe then you would have accepted it.

The other part of your brain was ready to be done with it all.

“[name]?”

Your breath catches, unsteadily lifting yourself from the ground. You look around, searching for that familiar voice.

“Mother?”

“[name], my child…” You see her. She was completely bare, something you were used to, her beauty a stark contrast to the spindly trees around her. She walks toward you crouching before you, you sob when she rests a soft hand on your cheek. So, so different from how she usually held you. Then she spoke in such a soft voice, a tone you’d never heard leave her mouth. “You looked so beautiful when you were screaming.”

The next moment it felt like you were punched in the shoulder, a heat unlike any other burned your skin. You look down to see a blade sticking out of your chest, a shriveled-up hand attached. Not the smooth skin of your mother.

When you look back into your mother's eyes they were no longer hers. Replaced with a milky white that gleamed in the moonlight. The face no longer female or beautiful. It’s skin was stretched taught over its thin bones.

Then as it spoke again with a smile so wide, teeth so rotted, and breath so pungent you knew what it was.

“Cry for me, child.” It said, sounding like a million different voices at once.

A creature that preyed on the weak, found pleasure in the act of killing. It cannot be reasoned with, its only joy is to watch the life leave someone’s eyes. To watch people die a sad miserable death in the form of the ones they loved the most.

The Mymic.

You scream, and it laughs. You scream louder as it twists the blade inside you and then drags. Ripping each nerve, muscle, and vein as slowly as possible. So you could feel each and every tear.

The creature howled in ecstasy as it tore into you, cutting you open endlessly.

No one would save you, not this time.

Nightmares don’t have happy endings.

“So beautiful…” It sighed pulling the blade out of your chest only to play with the blood that pooled out, finger-painting your white gown red.

*****

He couldn’t stand it, you were so still that Azriel had to keep making sure you were breathing. He holds you against him, unable to keep his hands from wandering, soothing you. Shadows doing the same.

You’d been sleeping for two days straight. Madja kept assuring him and everyone else that you were okay. That it was a good thing, that your body was responding well to the tonic and catching up on the sleep it needed.

The Faebane had cleaned out of your system after the first twenty-four hours. But no Hybern soldiers made any appearance, no evil king, not even a flicker in the fae lights.

His head leans against yours, watching your chest lift up and down. He moves a hand to rest there, watching it rise and fall. Finding comfort in the repetitive motion.

Maybe you weren’t made for him. Maybe the cauldron didn’t deem you mates. Maybe he didn’t care.

Azriel was content to just share something so real with you, so raw.

A bond didn’t make what the two of you had any less intense. He didn’t need to be tethered to you to know what you were feeling. Didn’t need fate to tell him you were the love of his life.

He’d always pick you.

A small sound reaches his ears, he was so worried about you that he’d started having audio hallucinations. But then he heard it again, louder this time, and he knew it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

Your breathing becomes irregular, another little noise leaving your parted lips. Azriel’s hands rub you soothingly. Waiting patiently for the sleep to fade from your body. Whispering when he could tell you were conscious enough to hear him. “Hey.” He drawls, making sure he's quiet. When you open your gorgeous eyes and look at him his heart stops. “There you are.”

You blink at him. “You drugged me.”

Azriel flinches at the words. Actually flinches. Then he nods.

“My magic… I can feel it now but it was…”

His hand reaches for yours, feeling relief when you let him take it. He runs his thumb over the smooth skin. “Faebane. We got some when Rhys was captured.”

You look down at your free hand, willing a small moth to appear there. Checking that everything was working correctly. The moth flies up toward Azriel but it dissipates before it can get far.

You weren’t mad. Quite the opposite. You’d woken up and found yourself relieved. Relieved to see him there next to you. Relieved to be home.

You weren’t angry because you knew he did it to help not to hurt. Sure, he could’ve gone about it in a different way, maybe presented the idea to you instead of just slipping the drug in your water. But you couldn’t fault him for that either, Azriel was a man of action and few words.

Still that didn’t stop you from asking. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t even want to agree to it at first. So little is known about your kind, your magic, there was no telling if the Faebane would even effect you. I didn’t want to risk you getting stuck in that nightmare without the ability to heal.”

Your eyes widen at the information. If he’d told you that, nothing would’ve gotten you to agree. But he took that chance? Azriel wasn’t a gambler.

Your face must’ve shown what you were thinking because he continued.

“Then you hurt yourself and I couldn’t take it anymore, [name]. You needed to get better.” He squeezes your hand. “If I have to fight off a living nightmare so you can get a night's sleep, I will.”

“Did you?” You ask, wondering if the male had made an appearance or the Mymic.

Azriel shakes his head. You sigh in relief. Ignoring the way your stomach grumbled with hunger, in no hurry to force down tasteless food. No hurry to leave your male. You lay your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You say, and he shakes his head at you in confused questioning. “For letting it get that far.” For not being strong enough to get a grip.

The shadowsinger holds your head to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He presses his lips against your head, saying the words into your hair. “I wish I knew other ways to help.”

Your hands grip him. Nails clinging to his bare skin. “I missed you.” The worst part about reliving that Nightmare, was that you hadn’t known he existed. That someone so amazing was out there, and capable of loving you.

“I never left.”

taglist <3: @acourtofbatboydreams @xreaderbooksreads @gorlillaglue25 @anuttellaa @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you

742 notes · View notes

lady-phasma · 10 months ago

Text

A willing pawn

Daemon Targaryen x fem! Dornish!reader

A huge thank you to @zaldritzosrose for this amazing board. You read my mind and I don't know how you did it! An equal thank you to @black-dread for providing the missing puzzle piece to make this fic work.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, hurt/comfort if you squint, little bit of size kink, use of an infantilizing pet name (because Uncle Daddy Daemon), flimsy plot, creampie (and I truly did not plan what was going to happen there, Daemon just does whatever he wants in my brain, cheeky bastard)

Summary: You had a mission in the Stepstones, but he wasn’t as fearsome, this prince, as you had been led to believe. I’m not sure about my soft!Daemon but here he is. 4k words

The encampment was dark, lit only by dying fires. This night had been chosen because it would be moonless. Your soft-soled shoes were silent on the rocky earth as you crept between tents. You had planned your path at sunset, marking in your memory where the prince’s tent stood. As the orange light had faded from the sky, your stomach had begun to knot and twist with anxiety.

Could you really follow through with this? You knew you were able but were you capable of such a thing. The circumstances didn’t offer you any choice in the matter. Prince Qoren Martell wanted to avoid the costs of war, in gold and lives. His war counsel thought of every possible measure they could take to win this war, including involving House Yronwood. You were a cog in a larger plan and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You ducked around another tent and tiptoed to the edge of the large royal tent. This is as far as you had gotten in your strategy. From this point forward you could only hope for luck, as stealth wouldn’t matter when faced with the prince’s guards. You were sent here with the barest of plans and what little plan there was, was foolish. You listened for movement inside the tent and heard none. As you neared the front you expected a half-dozen guards but saw only two. You held your breath.

You couldn’t walk right up to the tent and demand to be let in. Sneaking in seemed to be impossible, but if you could, what next. Your heart pounded in your ears. Godsdamn it, you thought. You let out a shaky breath and slunk back into the shadows. When you turned around you almost walked face-first into a giant wall of armor.

The guard almost threw you into the tent but did not relinquish his grip on your elbow. You grunted and jerked your arm away from him as you stumbled into the large room. You caught your balance and stood up straight. The ground was covered in rugs. A table laden with maps and documents stood in the center. Next to it sat the Prince.

“We found this creeping about outside, your highness,” the guard grumbled.

Prince Daemon lounged in his chair, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. He was peeling a pear, paused mid-knife-stroke, and looked up from under his brows. They raised slightly, seemingly amused, but he didn’t bother to lift his head. He resumed his peeling.

“Leave us,” he commanded without looking up. You heard the guard’s armor as he left but didn’t take your eyes from the prince.

“What terrible deed have you been sent to do child?” He didn’t look at you, only sliced a bit of pear and popped it in his mouth. When you didn’t respond he brushed aside papers to make space on the table and laid down the knife and pear. He wiped his hands on a napkin, dropped it next to them, and stood up. Finally, he looked at you. He finished chewing, swallowed, and wiped one corner of his mouth with his thumb.

He strode toward you, sucking the pear juice off his thumb and assessing you. Much of your face was covered by your hood, stay strands of dark hair were visible but your features were cast in shadow. He dipped his head slightly and looked closely, standing only a few paces in front of you. His silver hair swung loose from his shoulder. The violet of his eyes was unnerving. You squared your shoulders.

“I am no child,” you replied, leaving off the honorific. He was no prince of yours.

“Is that so?” Daemon reached for your hood and flicked it back from your head. The only hint of surprise he allowed to show was a brief widening of his eyes. You were well aware the effect your father’s blue eyes had when set against the sienna skin you got from your mother. You narrowed your icy eyes at him.

“I’m gown enough to make it this far into your camp, am I not?” Daemon chuckled and flipped his hair back over his shoulder. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at you.

“I suppose so… but you did get caught, little one.”

Your cheeks flamed and you wanted to strike him but the smile on his face caught you off guard. Had he just winked at you? You were too frustrated to think and that wink made your blood boil. This was not going at all how you had expected when the guard snatched you up. Daemon didn’t so much as blink when you moved your hands from inside your cloak to push your hood back further. He was amused with you. The handle of your dagger glinted in the candlelight and caught his eye.

“So you were sent here to assassinate me?” He smiled that infernal smile. “Would you say it is going well?”

“Time will tell,” you answered through gritted teeth. Then he laughed at you, actually laughed. You clenched your hands into fists at your sides.

He took a step toward you and you tensed. You hadn’t the faintest idea what this man would do. You had only heard the rumors and propaganda in Dorne. When he reached out, you tried to take a step back from him.

“Uh-uh,” he commanded quietly. Then his hand dipped into your cloak and before you could move to stop him, he snatched your dagger out of your belt. He spun it lazily around, watching it dance in the light.

“This might have done the trick,” he spoke to the blade, not to you. “But I imagine someone with more experience should have been entrusted with it.” His eyes flicked back to your face. “Though, perhaps there were none as fierce as you.”

With absolutely no thought in your mind, you lunged forward and tried to grab the weapon from him. He deftly moved it out of your reach and grabbed your wrist with his other hand.

“As I said: fierce,” he quipped. You tugged your arm against his grasp to no avail.

“But I must!” You almost snarled at him. His expression wasn’t surprise but interest. He let you go and turned to lay your weapon on the table. When he faced you again a small smile was set on his mouth.

“Must you?” He raised an eyebrow. “If a child assassin has been sent to slay me, Dorne must be desperate indeed.”

“I am not a child! I am a woman grown, of 20 years!” You had no idea why this infuriated you but the prince knew that it did. He grinned again.

“Pardon me, my Lady. I should have said a ‘small’ assassin,” he mocked you. It was somehow kind. You were taken aback by his jest, by his demeanor. You hadn’t taken the time to pause and evaluate Prince Daemon. You had only been concerned with the ramifications of your failure.

Now that you looked, you saw a man not much older than yourself. A man who moved with experience in battle, with an ease not unlike your own. Graceful, even. Then he did the most unexpected thing. He extended his hand, offering you to sit in the chair opposite his. You had come here to threaten his life and now he was treating you like a guest! You gawped.

Before you could decide what to make of the situation, Daemon slid down into his chair and stretched his legs out again, completely unwary of you. He glanced at you one more time as he reached for his unfinished pear. You were too shocked to do anything other than sit. You closed your mouth and sat down across from him. You slipped your cloak off of your shoulders as you sat. Your common clothes weren’t uncomfortable but you weren’t used to them. You tried to adjust them as you sat but instantly became more frustrated. Daemon’s eyes on you didn’t help to easy your new-found insecurity. You were meant to have been unseen.

“Who sent you?” The blunt nature of his question startled you.

“And why should I tell you?” you retorted. You were behaving as if you were at home entertaining men you had grown up with. This was madness.

“I believe I am owed an explanation as it was my life you were planning to take. Also, what else is there to do?” He popped a slice of pear in his mouth. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Let’s start with your name, shall we?”

You hesitated, but he was right: what else was there to do. You could sit in silence until he decided to have you executed. You could try to run from the tent only to be caught and executed sooner. So you told him your name and your house name.

“Very good,” he tossed the knife and pear back on the table. “What did Martell threaten? What predicament did he put you in?”

Your eyes widened. Was Prince Martell’s reputation so tainted, so sullied, outside Dorne?

“Not him,” you spoke quietly. “Though I suppose, ultimately, he knows. We are not a political house but we have wealth that is necessary for Dorne to succeed.” Your eyes flicked down from his at the last word. You weren’t sure why but you felt ashamed for being in this position, had all along if you thought about it.

“So if not the prince himself…” Daemon paused, waiting for your answer.

“His war counsel,” you replied. “They have many strategies in play, I’m sure, but one is to ‘motivate’ certain houses to bring the war to an early end. I have no knowledge of the other plans. I only know that my father was threatened. Whatever that threat was, it was powerful enough for him to send his youngest daughter to the Stepstones.”

There it was. You had spilled it out to the enemy in a gush and felt like vomiting or crying or fleeing. You looked up from your lap. Daemon was studying you. Once again he surprised you. Perhaps you expected him to mock you but the kindness on his face somehow made your situation more real. You bit your lip to stop the tears. You would not cry. You were angry and frightened and when the prince had called you a child it made those feelings more real.

“What choice did you have?” He sounded almost compassionate. This couldn’t be the petty tyrant you were warned against, who would rape, or torture, or kill you if you were caught. “You came all this way on an errand not of your choosing and meant to go through with it. That’s more than a little honorable, don’t you agree?”

You had no idea. You were confused and overwhelmed and angry. You had never been a zealot, but you had been more sure of your mission when the target was evil or cruel. Perhaps he was at times, but not now.

“I suppose so,” you muttered, trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Well what do I do with you now?” He leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t set you free. Yet I don’t want another prisoner. And you don’t want to return home as a failure. I can see that. I could keep you as a hostage and demand gold for your safe return. Would that keep your honor intact?”

You blushed, not just from his nearness but from the fact that he could see your thoughts so clearly on your face. You and your family would be dishonored if you returned unsuccessful. It would also be unfavorable to the prince to appear compassionate to would-be assassins.

“It would,” you answered. “But I do not think the ransom would be paid.”

“No? Not for a young woman as fierce and cunning as yourself? Not for someone so precious?”

Your eyes flicked up to his at this curious word. You watched him, suspicious, as he slid out of his chair and knelt in front of you.

“I think you’re quite frightened of either choice: being sent home or being held here. I don’t want you to be frightened. Maybe the Crone had a purpose for bringing you here.”

You felt your breath catch. He looked so sincere. He was intoxicating but you believed him. You didn’t want to feel relief at the prospect of no longer sneaking, hiding, being a stowaway, but you did. Almost instantly, you imagined a hot bath, a dress and not these rags, and food that wasn’t brown. Then something else flashed in your mind and the heat returned to your face.

Daemon slowly reached out to you and stroked the side of your face. He skimmed a lock of your hair with his fingers, watching it catch the light. Its deep brown shown with hints of gold. You studied him closely. When he turned his gaze back to you, your heart pounded in your chest. His eyes searched yours as he cupped your cheek in his palm.

“Gevie,” he whispered. You thought it was High Valyrian but you weren’t sure. Your lips parted almost involuntarily as you looked up at him. He leaned toward you, silver hair cascading off his shoulders. You felt his lips on yours and closed your eyes.

His hand holding your face felt safe. His lips were warm and tasted of pear. You dared not move. You were overwhelmed and confused. However, there twisted in your belly some need, some desire for him. Your chest ached with the delicious feeling of being safe. You didn’t question how this was possible so far away from home and with your “enemy” no less. So you kissed him back.

Daemon slid his other hand to frame your face. His kiss wasn’t rough, but it was deep. You had kissed men before, you were experienced in the most basic of ways. You realized now that all the men before had not kissed you, they didn’t see you. They saw a Yronwood daughter or practice for their marriage beds. You had made those choices willingly. You weren’t concerned with being married for political reasons and had enjoyed your freedom. Until now. In this moment, you felt… precious.

Tentatively, you raised a hand to him, your fingertips grazed his jaw and neck, and came to rest on his chest. He slid his hands from your cheeks as he broke the kiss. As if waiting for your permission, Daemon rested his hands on your upper arms. You kissed him in answer. His arms swept around you and scooped you up as he stood. Your head spun but you steadied yourself by putting your hands on the back of his neck.

Daemon sat you on his bed and smoothed your hair back from your face. He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped it on the floor as he leaned down to kiss you. You made room for him on the bed, drawing him toward you with your kisses. He knelt between your legs, kissed your neck, and slid a hand under your shirt. You arched your back, pressing into his palm.

He brushed the underside of your breasts with the tips of his fingers and his other hand glided up your ribs. He pushed your shirt up above your breasts, fixated on your hardened nipples. His hair slid over your chest as he took one nipple in his mouth. He propped himself up on one hand and cupped your breast with the other. You moaned and writhed under him. You instinctively ran your fingers through his hair and held him against you. Daemon groaned and the sound vibrated from your chest to your core. When he pulled away you realized you had been grinding against his leg and flushed. He smiled down at you.

Wordlessly, he guided you to raise your arms so he could remove your shirt. Then he began to unlace your breeches. You watched his muscles move as he slid your pants off. You lifted your hips and giggled a little when you plopped back down on the bed as he tugged them off your legs. You weren’t shy but the action was awkward and you were quite exposed now. He tossed the breeches on the floor and smoothed a hand up your thigh. He stared, rapt, at the dark hair between your legs, so different from the silver of his own.

You bit your lip as you looked from his face, down his chest, and to the evidence of his arousal. His breeches looked uncomfortably tight now. His hands absently stroked your legs and your lower belly but paused as you sat up. You held him between your legs. When you kissed his stomach he hissed in air through his teeth. Your hands grazed over his hips and to the laces in the front of his pants. You let your fingertips glide over the shape of his erection before undoing the knot. You kissed seemingly every inch of his stomach then looked up at him as your hand dipped inside. His face was curtained by his hair as he looked down at you. You smiled as you stroked him.

Daemon moved his hands from your legs, smoothed over your hair, and then gently pressed your shoulders back. You laid down, already missing the feeling of him in your hands, but the sight of him between your legs was almost as pleasant. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead gently, then your lips, and pressed his forehead against yours.

You gasped as his fingers slid between the lips of your cunt. He licked his lips and continued to explore your wetness. Stroking, searching, learning. He circled your opening, your clit, and back again. One finger slid in easily and he grinned. You lifted your mouth to his as you lifted your hips to his hand. He slid in a second finger.

“You are so tight, little one,” he grinned down at you. You rocked your hips against his hand and moaned in reply. You placed one hand on his arm, pulling him deeper into you. With the other you smoothed his hair behind his ear and trailed your fingers down his jaw. You drug your fingertips over his lips. His eyes were dark as he watched you pleasure yourself on his hand.

“More, Daemon, please,” you moaned, saying his name for the first time. Hearing his name come from your lips pleased him immensely.

“Say it again,” he breathed as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Daemon, please.”

Slowly and with a tinge of disappointment on his face, he pulled his fingers from you. He was enjoying the sight of you but couldn’t wait any longer. He freed his cock from his breeches. Then he slid his hands up your thighs to your lower back. As he sat back he guided you onto his lap. The transition was clumsy at first, legs bumping and twisting. You both smiled as you held onto his shoulders. When you knelt over him you rubbed your clit against his cock. You rested your lips against his forehead as you rocked your lips. You moved your mouth nearer to his ear and murmured his name.

Daemon lifted your ass and placed you above his cock. With one hand between you, he guided himself into you. You sank down onto him slowly, watching his face. He clenched his jaw tight. You felt his hand move back to your ass. He let you set the pace, let you move against him. You pulled up and then sank down again, taking all of him. The moan that came from your lips was lewd and deep. You clutched at his neck, the back of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. He groaned but did not move to meet your hips. You rocked back, then forward, finding your rhythm.

He kissed your chest and breasts. His hands stroked your ass and lower back, constantly moving. You leaned forward slightly and pressed yourself against him. At this angle he wasn’t as deep in you, but you found friction against his stomach. You ground your hips into him, almost, but not quite able to get what you needed.

“Seven hells,” he panted against you. His hips had begun to move in time with yours. Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair and you tried to find that much-needed angle again. When he realized what you needed he slid a hand between you. You threw your head back as his fingers circled your clit. You sped up, fucking him hard. He kept pace with you, circling and pressing his fingers against you. You couldn’t keep a steady rhythm. You felt him brace your lower back with his hand and pull you closer to him, steadying you, supporting you. You felt your climax tug at your core and sank further onto his cock with each stroke.

“Come for me,” Daemon whispered into your neck. You did. You cried his name, clinched your fists in his hair, and buried your face against his head. You sank all the way down onto him, thighs resting on his as you shook. Your cunt spasmed around his cock but he didn’t stop moving his fingers. He pressed into you with his hips, rocking under you, and bringing forth tiny gasps from you. You lips found his and you panted into his mouth. Tiny sounds mingled with his name flew out of your mouth with every movement of his fingers.

When you thought the overstimulation might be too much he moved his hand from between you. He slid his hand under your arm and pulled you down onto him by your shoulder. A new wave of pleasure crashed into you as he spilled into you. His hips stilled, holding his cock deep inside you. He came panting and moaning your name.

You wanted to sink all of your weight onto him. It took too much effort to support yourself on your aching knees. Neither of you wanted to move yet, though both of you needed to. You released your hands from his hair. You kissed him and smoothed his hair back from his face.

You smiled at him as you rose shakily from his lap. He helped you as much as he could, but your legs were numb and your head was empty. You all but fell back onto the pillows. He watched you grind your hips against the air as the last of your climax left you. His eyes were locked on his seed sliding out of you. He leaned forward, his legs shaking as well. You watched him through half-closed eyes and settled yourself on the bed. His fingers slid through his cum and you twitched as he grazed your throbbing clit. He looked into your blue eyes as he gathered more of it on his fingers. You smiled seductively as he leaned over you and raised his fingers to your lips.

You opened your mouth, your eyes never leaving his, and he painted your tongue with his seed. You closed your lips around his fingers and let him feel you swallow. He slid his fingers out and surprised you by kissing you deeply, tasting himself in your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist. You playfully pulled his weight on top of you. He let you but also guided you both to lay on your sides. Your legs intertwined and you were a tangle of limbs for a moment. Then you buried your face into his chest and breathed in deeply. You sighed as he smoothed your hair and rested his chin on the top of your head. You were quite small in his arms. Daemon breathed deeply as he stroked down your back, your buttocks, and up again. You curled against him, one hand between you, the other resting on his hip.

“I have you now, little one,” he murmured against the top of your head.

Masterlist

322 notes · View notes

miustrz · 6 days ago

Text

LET THE LIGHT IN

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

PLOT: you never signed up to be a mother, but it won’t hurt to try.

WORD COUNT: 1K

WARNINGS: none… if you squint

"Excuse me?" The words came out almost like a gasp, and you could hear the tension in his voice.

"Will you just think about it—" Nanami’s voice cracked, full of frustration and something deeper, something you couldn't quite place.

"No. Nanami, can’t you think about me for once? Please, don’t you see I’m trying my hardest here?" Your own voice was strained, almost pleading. You were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The constant tug-of-war between what Nanami needed and what you needed was starting to feel unbearable.

Nanami was silent on the other end, but you could almost feel him processing. He always did that—took his time, calculating what he should say. But this time, he didn’t sound measured. He sounded… lost. "I know, and I’m sorry. I keep pressuring you to take care of him, and I haven’t been the best towards you. I… I didn’t mean for it to be like this."

"Ya think?" Your words came out sharper than you intended, and the bitterness you couldn’t suppress seeped into your voice. You regretted it immediately but didn’t apologize. You didn’t have the energy to.

There was a pause. The silence was thick, heavy with unsaid things, with the weight of too many responsibilities falling on your shoulders.

"Listen, I… I don’t have a problem with taking care of him. I don’t. I love him, you know that. He makes my day with that cute little smile of his, and I’m so grateful for him. But… when he’s constantly begging for his dad, it breaks me. It’s like I can’t even be enough for him, and it’s only been getting worse. You need to understand that I can’t do this alone. You need to find some time, any time, to give him your full attention. To be present with him."

He felt the sting of your words, the guilt settling deep inside him. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to help.

"Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?" Nanami’s voice rose, cracking at the edges with a mixture of anger and helplessness. "You don’t get it. You’ll never get it. Ever since his mom died, I’ve been terrified. Terrified of how this will affect him when he’s older. I know it doesn’t show much now, but you have no idea what kind of pressure that puts on me. I need him to grow up with a mother. He needs you. He needs your love, your presence. I can't do this by myself, and you keep—.

He stopped himself, as though realizing he was on the edge of saying something he couldn’t take back. The anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface deflated, and what replaced it was exhaustion.

"I don’t know how much longer I can do this, alone." His voice was barely a whisper now, but it cut through the line with the clarity of a dagger.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. The emotion in his voice, the rawness of his fear, caught you off guard. For the first time, you realized just how deeply he was struggling. You had always known he was carrying a heavy burden, but it hadn’t truly hit you until now.

"I—" You started, but your throat tightened. What could you say? The truth? Or something that wouldn’t hurt him further? You swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat.

"I don’t want to be the one who breaks him, you know?" Nanami’s words came through quietly, but the impact of them hit you with the force of a thousand unspoken thoughts. "I don’t want to be the one who lets him down. You can’t be afraid of him growing up with a hole in his heart, because I’m scared too. I’m so scared."

The phone line went silent, the kind of silence that felt deafening. No words came. You could feel the space between the two of you expanding, stretching into something cold and distant.

You leaned back in your chair, your gaze wandering absentmindedly to the bed beside you.

The room was dim, the soft light casting a peaceful glow on the little boy curled up under a blanket. His tiny chest rose and fell gently with each breath, his face peaceful in sleep, the innocence of his expression pulling at something deep inside of you.

Without thinking, you walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. It was soft and silky, like the softest thread of silk between your fingers. As you ran your hand through it, you felt the tenderness inside your chest grow.

You had never once realized it, but you had come to see him as your own. Not just someone else's child, but someone you wanted to protect, to love, to care for. A child who had lost so much—who still needed so much. The thought that you could somehow replace the love his mother gave him seemed impossible. But the truth was, you couldn’t ignore the bond that had grown between you. And that bond, no matter how complicated, was something you weren’t willing to walk away from

Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe there was room in your life, in your heart, for him. And maybe, just maybe, was right. Maybe it was time to take a step back and re-evaluate what you could offer, what you both needed.

You watched him sleep for a while longer, thinking of all the things you’d never said out loud. And in that quiet moment, with the soft glow of the night settling around the room, a thought emerged: You were more than willing to try. For him. For Nanami. Maybe you could be the one to fill that gap, even if you didn’t know how.

But you couldn’t do it alone.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami angst #jjk nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #i’ll have all of your babies #sigh

89 notes · View notes

nightlyrequiem · 1 month ago

Text

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 14- Homesick

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I've been consuming a lot of Dr. House lately. Now I want to write a Dr. House AU with the cod characters.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

You pace around the carpeted office. Ignoring the dull ache climbing up your calf. It's good to work the muscle, otherwise it will weaken and shrink. Valeria sighs after your fourth lap and looks up at you.

"If you need something to do you can work on this stack of paperwork." She remarks dryly. You look back at her, eyes briefly drifting down to her lips before rising back up to her eyes. You can still taste the smoke in your mouth.

The last thing you want to do is sit down and do more paperwork. If you do more paperwork, you are sure you'll go mad. It's so mind numbingly boring. Your thoughts drift back to the lab and what you did in the lab. Mixing and measuring chemicals. That's what you want to be doing. Not playing assistant to Valeria. You're above personal assistance.

"How long until we have the new lab set up?" You ask. Deciding to sit down when the pain starts to become borderline unbearable. Valeria's lips thin warningly.

"Not for a while," She says. "the explosion destroyed everything, including the space. I still need to find somewhere else to put all that new, expensive machinery."

Her pointed words have their intended effect. You're aware that you messed up. You're still actively suffering from the consequences of your carelessness. You give your leg a small shake. Still suffering, even if you're healing quickly.

"I know." You say. "I'm sorry."

Valeria scoffs. "I'm sure you are." She says, looking back down at her work. She rests her forehead on her palm, clearly also finding the work to be boring and life sucking.

"... So about El Paso." You murmur.

She glares at you. "Enough about El Paso. Quit bothering me about it."

The group still hasn't returned. Valeria told you she wouldn't come up with a plan until they did, but you know her well enough to know she already has something brewing in her head. There's always a plan when Valeria is involved. She should be involving you as well. It concerns you as much as it does her.

"I know you have something, Valeria." You say. "I'm your cook, and currently the one handling your paperwork. Tell me."

"You've done maybe five pages of paperwork over the course of a couple weeks." She growls. "You haven't done anything useful since you injured yourself."

Valeria's voice is harsh and full of irritation.

"That's not true." You frown. "I organize your files, and I've done more than just five pages."

Valeria leans forward in her chair. Eyes narrowed. "No, you haven't. I don't know if it's because you genuinely can't go any faster or if you're too stupid to do paperwork without having to re-read the same document five times just to understand it."

You stare at her. Caught off guard by her abrupt rudeness. "I'm not stupid." You reply defensively.

"Are you sure?" She raises her brows. "Because you keep acting like I won't replace you."

Valeria got up close to your face and held your jaw in her warm hands. She looked into your eyes and blew smoke into your mouth. She's reassured you when you were low only to tear you down again. You don't understand it. It's like she gets a sort of satisfaction from puppeteering your feelings.

"I'm starting to understand why no one ever wants to hang around you." You say shortly. You see her gaze darken but you continue anyway. Not at all worried about her hurting you. "If this is how you treat your friends, I'd be shocked to learn you still have any."

"I am not your friend." Valeria snaps.

"No, you're not." You snap back. You stand, not wanting to be in the same room as her anymore.

She straightens, brows lowered. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere else." You reply, walking out of the office before she can argue.

Valeria is complicated. She is your boss, but you're not dumb enough to think that's all she is. You've had too many 'little moments' for it to stay that way. It's frustrating. Hanging onto those small threads of normalcy while she saws at them with a dull razor. you aren't sure what will happen once they snap, and you're left free falling.

You avoid Valeria for a while. Working on exercising your leg and pouring over your notes with intense focus. You're tired of people undervaluing you and thinking that you're some sad little wallflower that they can walk over all they want. You stretch your leg out over the bed and flex it. You're able to walk around without the crutches now. With mild struggle, but you can. Staying here is becoming all the more pointless. You can walk on your own, can shower without help. You still aren't entirely sure why you were here anyway. Why she insisted you stay. Valeria said it was because she would be getting something out of it but you aren't sure she did.

You stretch and lay down. Enveloped by the soft white sheets. They smell like you now. A knock on the door startles you.

"What?" You ask. Valeria pushes open the door.

"Sleeping?" She asks. Leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah, I'm fast asleep." You say dryly.

She looks like she's biting back a retort. "Are you going to ignore me for the rest of your life?" She asks. "Because both of us will have a hard time doing our jobs without any communication."

Valeria preaching the practice of communication feels ironic in a way. Her attempt at lecturing you like you're some wayward teenager aggravates you.

"Yeah, might be hard to blow smoke into my mouth then call me an idiot right after if we aren't speaking to each other." You hum.

Valeria frowns at you. "Yeah, might be."

"Are you sorry?" You ask. Narrowing your eyes at her.

She furrows her brows at you, uncrossing her arms. "For?"

"Gee, I don't know Valeria, why don't you guess?"

Valeria closes her eyes as she makes an active effort to reign in her temper.

"I am sorry that your feelings were hurt." She says. Opening them and looking right at you, flicking over your body as you sit up straighter.

"That's not an apology." You say firmly.

"Sorry you feel that way."

You shake your head. For some reason you feel disappointed in her inability to apologize. To show that she respects you enough to do only that. Like she failed a test neither of you were aware of.

You change the subject, deciding that it's pointless to try and ring an apology out of her.

"I think I'm good to go home tonight." You tell her. Watching as her expression morphs into confusion.

"No you aren't." She says confidently. "You can still barely walk."

"I can walk fine, Valeria." You reply.

Something seems to have agitated her. She crosses her arms. "Not that I can't replace you, but if you injure yourself and die at home finding someone else to cook meth for me will be a real pain in the ass." She remarks.

Her words make you feel so appreciated. Regardless, it's good to know that you'd be hard to replace. it means your job is somewhat insured and by extension your life.

"Most of my wounds are almost healed completely." You speak. "It's time for me to stop intruding on you and leave."

Valeria steps closer. "You aren't intruding."

You rise to your feet, stumbling slightly when they tingle from being in the wrong position for too long. "Still, whether or not I am, I'm good to go." You say. Looking at her. "I'm getting homesick anyway."

A frown crosses Valeria's features and she actually looks like she's about to argue with you but eventually she relents. Turning away from you.

"Fine. Get your things." She replies stiffly.

After she leaves your room, you begin to repack your things. The clothes you brought, your toothbrush, hair care, skin care. It takes you only thirty-three minutes. You find Valeria waiting for you down in the living room, scrolling on her phone with lowered brows. She looks up when she hears you approaching.

"Let's go." She says. Without waiting for you she's out the door.

The car ride home is tense. There's no music or talking to fill in the silence between the two of you but based on the grip she has on the steering wheel she probably won't have anything nice to say. She reaches a red light and slows to a stop. Valeria is, after all, a good, law-abiding citizen. You finally arrive back at your apartment. Seeing the washed out, cracked brick building. You glance at her.

"Thanks." You nod.

"Hm."

Her dismissive response makes you frown but you let it go. Opening the car door, you step out. You open the back door and fumble around the backseat for your bags before walking away from the car to the dirty glass entrance. Valeria hurries off without waiting for you to go inside.

#cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #cod mwii #cod #cod x reader #valeria garza x you

46 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

Note

WIBTA if i cut off someone reaching out for help on tumblr? i am a very anxious person. ive been on tumblr a very long time because most all other social media terrifies me as someone who grew up with the wild west internet a decade past (im in my late 20s) so i feel sometimes with how reckless and spurractic people can be online in chatroom and especially clearly public platforms where any stranger, malicious or otherwise can just archive your digital presence for personal use.

more recently as someone who has been here during the pornban and as an asexual really enjoyed the quiet with no drama farming and a slow pace to talk about more unique political topics in a measured way it is something im strangely nostalgic for and a great example of my sensibilities to people when they insist that i use other platforms like discord or twitter or whatever clone for these services comes out of the old guard introducing feature creep to copy everyone else or any other indi "were the anti corporate version" of the endless scroll apps. i just dont want it. tumblr is special because im desktop only, been here for years, and i have kept track of every single change made so i have manually adjusted the change through hacks to evade every bad decision on here and make my set up look identical to how it was in 2010. so let it be understood that i tend to be a loney person because of this stubbornness. web 3.0 is too dangerous to people with addictive tendencies that my adhd brings out and my need to wear my heart on my sleeve. so i hope i defended my personality type enough to show why someone like me would see a post about some horrible abuses they have fell victim to who also share alot of the marginalized status as me and writing depressive things in the replys of others posts as to attention seek about it.

i directly interact with this person, not only to check if they are real (but wow, modern chat bots make this part horrifying for me. we really cant ever know for sure what is real anymore. trying to find warmth on the internet feels impossible now a days) i have multiple conversations at this point both venting and just casually shooting the shit. but the begging for me to constantly repost their paypal makes me so nervous in a way that i feel so guilty for because it reminds me of all the scams that get associated with this kind of ebegging and the reminder that capitalism takes away all warmth from human interaction to make them purely transnational and conditional. but then it just has been escalating where im so scared that now its not enough that im reposing on my 8 follower, all mutual blog, they are asking me to share it on other socials. accounts i do not have i have a flip phone and a laptop and i am tinkering with a windows 7 tower that will never be connected to the internet so i can always have software sit perfectly in its time capsule for when i need it. i do not have a way to help this person outside of what i learned from collage psyche classes. a part of me is so scared to just abruptly cut them off and just delete my entire account like i tend to do often on tumblr for a multitude of reasons, its a part of what lets people survive being here this long but i worry that would crush them if i did that, i dont want to make them feel more hopeless and unwanted then they already talk about. but i am text on the internet through a screen. i can only do so much. so would i be the asshole if i just deleted my account with a "i hope you hang in there, the world is a harsh place but keep moving" to cut someone so similar to me who is struggling out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

96 notes · View notes

alex-wrestling · 3 months ago

Text

Feel Your Healin’ Rivers Run

Jey Uso/Sami Zayn

Summary: Sami feels insecure about his body. Jey finds a way to make him forget about it.

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+!! Insecurity, Top!Jey, Bottom!Sami (trust me), praise, teasing, enthusiastic consent (consent is sexy!), blowjobs, anal sex, just boyfriends doing boyfriend things.

A/N: not confident in my smut writing yet, but practice makes perfect! No time period for this one, just follow your heart. Title is from The Wonton Song by Led Zeppelin.

Sami looked at himself in the mirror, turning to his side and then back to the front as he eyed his bare body with disdain. I'm in good shape, right? I can still perform all of my moves. I’m overreacting. He didn’t have the ‘look’ you’d normally expect from a professional wrestler, even he could admit that, but he’d never had any comments about it before this. He worked out, he ate well, isn’t that all that mattered?

“Sami? What’re you doin’, boo?”

Sami turned around to see Jey standing in the doorway, a sad smile on his face.

“Um-nothing, it’s nothing, Jey,” he managed to stutter as he slowly crept away from the mirror.

“Uh huh. Doesn’t look like nothin’,” Jey said, walking toward Sami and turning the Canadian’s body toward the mirror. “Think you’re feelin’ a bit insecure.”

Sami’s eyes raked across the mirror, taking in every line and curve. “I’m not insecure, I just…” he trailed off, meeting Jey’s eyes through the mirror. “Ever since we told the public we’ve been dating, people have been saying that you must’ve been ashamed of me or something because I look like…me, I don’t look as good as you, you’re way out of my league. And it hurts.”

“I’m so sorry, Sami,” Jey said, kissing Sami’s neck. “People are dicks sometimes, you shouldn’t read too many of those comments.”

“I know that,” Sami said, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I hate my hair too! No wonder everyone thinks I’m ugly!”

“Hey, calm down baby. You’re not ugly.”

“But I-”

Jey held a finger against Sami’s lips. “I ain’t gon’ let you talk like that. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I did?” He flashed his pearly whites at Sami, and he ducked.

“Even your smile looks better than mine,” Sami mumbled.

“That’s it!” Jey exclaimed, picking Sami up with ease and flinging him over his shoulder.

“What are you doing! Put me down!”

“Nope! Desperate times call for desperate measures!” Jey said, a deadly seriousness to his voice that caught Sami off guard.

He set Sami on the bed and got on top of him, holding himself up with sturdy arms. “I’ve let this go on long enough. I’mma tell you all the things I love ‘bout you, and you ain’t gon’ interrupt.”

Sami looked at him with his dark brown eyes. “H-huh?”

“You opposed to that?”

“No,” Sami mumbled.

“Good. I’ll start right here.” Jey kissed him, slow and gentle. “I love your lips,” he mumbled as he pulled away, “they fit on mine perfectly. I love kissin’ you, could do it all day.”

Sami’s lips turned upward. “Love that smile,” Jey said, “I don’t why you hate it so much, I love when you’re happy and that smile lets me know. It’s like a sunbeam right into my eyes.”

“It is?” Sami asked tentatively, eyes locking with Jey’s.

“Yeah. Love your voice, it’s the perfect pitch. Wanna listen to it all day.”

Jey trailed kisses up Sami’s face. “Love this beard. Suits you perfectly, and it feels so soft.” He kissed it, then he kissed Sami’s nose. “Perfect nose. Like it was sculpted or somethin’. And your eyes,” Sami’s eyes widened as Jey met his gaze, “perfect shade of brown. Wouldn’t change a damn thing about ‘em.” He ran a hand through the wild curls on Sami’s head. “So soft. Love runnin’ my hands through your hair, and it frames your face perfectly.”

He moved down Sami’s body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses that set Sami’s body on fire. “Love this hair on your body,” Jey said. “Like baby hair, so soft and fine.” He looked at one of Sami’s nipples and back up at him, a mischievous grin making its way across his face. He kissed towards it, making Sami squirm. “Love how sensitive these are,” he said, using his tongue to brush against it, making Sami whimper. He debated going to the next one but decided against it. He had more important things to do.

His kisses continued down Sami’s stomach. “Where do I even begin?” He asked, catching Sami’s eyes and seeing the disgust in them. “Love cuddlin’ up to you and wrapping my arms ‘round you. You fit me like a puzzle piece.”

He saw Sami struggling with his emotions. “You-you like it?” Sami asked, eyes welling up with tears.

Jey smiled. “‘Course I do. I love everything about you.”

Sami wiped at his eyes. “Thank you, Jey.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I'm not done.”

“You’re not?”

Jey shook his head. “Nope.” He looked down and continued his kissing spree. “Love that I have something to lay on. Other people I’ve dated were too skinny, but you’re easy to lay on and cuddle with. Makes me feel safe.” Jey continued down to Sami’s waist. “Love me some love handles. Something tells me I’ll get to use these soon.” He saw Sami’s cheeks turn bright red, making him laugh. He dug his fingers into the waistband of Sami’s pants and dragged it down, tugging it off of him with a practiced flair. Eyeing Sami’s semi-erect dick, he elected to go to one of Sami’s thighs. “You can feel the muscle,” he said against Sami’s skin, “perfect for me to sit on.” He licked a trail up to Sami’s balls but didn’t touch them, instead savoring the whimpers that came from him. Kissing back down Sami’s thigh, he came to his calf. “Look at the muscle here, too.”

“Jey,” Sami whined.

“Oh? You want somethin’ boo?” Jey asked, smirking at Sami’s hot and bothered expression.

“You’re teasing me…”

“‘f course I am. I like how you look when you beg.”

“Please, Jey. I need you.”

Jey felt his own dick strain against his pants. He always loved hearing how much Sami wanted him, and this was no exception. “You do?”

“Yes, please!” Sami cried out. “Please Jey, just fuck me already!”

Jey took his shirt off and followed with his pants, leaving him clad in only his underwear. He moved up Sami’s body and straddled him, laying himself flush against Sami’s body. Sami met him halfway and kissed him, pulling him down by the back of his head. Jey decided to indulge him, and when Sami’s tongue licked across his bottom lip, he opened his mouth and let Sami explore. He ground down lightly with the noticeable bulge in his pants, making Sami moan. Jey ran his hands up and down Sami’s body, taking in every bump and curve on his boyfriend. He was the most beautiful man Jey had ever seen, and he wanted—hoped—that he’d conveyed it to Sami.

He broke the kiss up, leaving them both panting. Jey started attacking Sami’s neck next, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin there, smiling slightly when he heard Sami’s ‘ah-ah-ah’s. “I know everything about your body. You know that, right?” He picked his head up and looked at Sami.

Sami nodded. “Must-must be a good one for you to want to know all of this.”

Jey grinned. “Now you’re seeing what I’m seeing. I think you’ve earned a reward.”

Sami’s eyes lit up. “Please, Jey. I need you inside of me.”

Jey shook his head. “Not yet. There’s one more thing I need to do.”

“No…” Sami whined, but Jey was already going down. He stopped right above Sami’s cock, seeing Sami nod violently. He huffed out a laugh and stuck his tongue out, lapping at the head. He felt Sami’s fingers go into his hair, not tugging but coming close. “Hands to yourself, boo,” Jey said teasingly, and Sami drew his hands back and clutched at the sheets instead, a low moan coursing through his throat.

He put the head between his lips, hearing Sami let out a “fuck” from above him. He licked the sensitive spot, the spot he knew would make Sami unravel. Sami’s hips bucked up and he let out a “fuck yes!” Jey went all the way down his cock with ease, twisting his tongue and bobbing his head the way he knew Sami loved. He tasted the precum leaking out of Sami, and he made his way up and licked it right off. Sami’s moaning and squirming was starting to work him up as well, and Jey had to rip his boxers off before they tore. “That feels so good, fuck, keep going.” He could feel Sami’s dick throbbing, and knew he was close. “Jey, don’t stop, please-”

Jey stopped, picking his head up and wiping the precum and drool from his mouth. “Why did you stop?”

“Don’t you want me inside you?” Jey asked, amusement in his voice at Sami’s obvious need.

The redhead turned around immediately, bearing his ass for Jey. Jey ran a hand over the cheeks. “Never seen a more perfect ass,” he said, making Sami wiggle against his hand.

He made his way to the drawer and found a packet of lube. He shook it in front of Sami like a person jingling their keys, and Sami responded by reaching out to grab it. He realized that his hand was too far away, and he let it fall to Jey’s dick.

Jey sucked in a breath. “Damn, Sami.”

Sami looked up at him with murky eyes. “Please.”

Jey ripped the packet open with his teeth and squeezed some onto his fingers. He traced Sami’s hole with his fingers, before putting a finger in. “You want me, Sami?”

“Yes!” He moaned. “Fuck yes, I want you. I want you inside of me already. I need to feel you filling me up!”

Jey slipped a second finger in. He carefully spread his fingers out inside, making Sami whine in frustration. “Not as bad as I want you, Sami. I wanna feel you throbbing around me. Wanna worship you.”

He slipped a third finger in. “Hurry up, please! I-fuck…” Sami panted heavily next to him, back arched, ready to take him.

“Gotta stretch you out more, boo. Don’t wanna hurt you,” Jey said. As difficult as it was to deny Sami, he didn’t want to cause him any pain if he could help it.

“Mmph.”

Jey laughed as he curled his fingers, making Sami bury his head in the bed. “You’re taking it so good, baby boy. You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes!” Sami shouted, “please, Jey!”

Jey squeezed the rest of the lube onto his rock-hard cock. He withdrew his fingers, making Sami whimper once again as he clenched down on nothing. Jey rubbed the rest of the lube down his dick as he climbed onto the bed. He pressed the head of his cock to Sami’s entrance. “You ready?”

“Please,” Sami said, begged, reduced to a writhing mass underneath him.

Jey pushed in, going slowly so that Sami could adjust. “Fuck, boo, you’re so tight. Add that one to the list.” He waited until Sami was more relaxed before continuing, Sami clenching around him and Jey felt himself leaking already. “You feel so good, baby. Just perfect.”

“You feel good too,” Sami said, his voice muffled. Jey reached up and grabbed Sami’s hips for leverage.

Jey loved the view from the front, don’t get him wrong, but the view from the back might be his favorite. Seeing Sami’s heaving form as he pushed an extra inch in, his hands bunched into the sheets, the allure of his hips, it was almost too much. Jey leaned down and kissed Sami’s shoulder, making Sami shiver. “You look so good underneath me. Wish I could stay like this forever.”

“Wish you could too,” Sami mumbled.

Jey pushed in further, burying his dick into Sami’s tight hole. “Relax for me, handsome.”

“Handsome? You think I look handsome like this?” Sami asked nervously.

Jey let his hands roam as he slowly pulled out and rammed back in, making Sami gasp. “‘Bout the sexiest thing to ever exist. Especially when I’m doin’ this,” he pulled out and went back in, “to you. God, Sami, you drive me crazy. It takes everything in me to keep my hands off you.” He felt Sami clench around him, and Jey could barely stave off his impending orgasm. “You close?”

“Yeah,” Sami huffed. “I doubt you are, though.”

Jey caught the doubt in his tone. He let go of Sami’s hips and ran his hands over Sami’s torso instead, pulling him back in. He leaned forward, kissing Sami’s neck and sucking on that sweet spot. He brought his hand down to grab Sami’s dick, making him moan low and deep. “The second I pulled your pants down it was a fight not to cum, babe. You’re the only one who can do that to me, you know.” Jey felt his cock throb. “No one I’d rather make love to. You’re perfect, Sami.”

Sami muttered something in a language Jey didn’t know, but what he did know was that Sami rocked back against him as his orgasm hit like a natural disaster. Sami groaned, and the sound made Jey growl as he picked up speed.

“Cum in me,” Sami begged, “need to feel you inside me.”

That sent Jey over the edge, his balls constricting as cum poured out of him. Sami went limp underneath him in the throes of pleasure, but Jey could hear the heavy panting as Sami rode out his orgasm.

Jey stayed inside of him until he felt himself go limp. He slowly pulled out, a stream of white following him. Sami fell over on his side, smiling and content. Jey staggered to his feet and nudged his boyfriend. “Gotta getchu cleaned up, boo.”

“Tired,” Sami said.

“My dick that good?” Jey asked, picking Sami up and carrying him to their bathroom. Sami just nodded, not wanting to ruin his post-orgasmic bliss.

He let Jey run a bath for him, filled with some kind of vegan bath bomb that smelled like lavender as the Samoan rubbed some shampoo into his hair. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you too. All of you.”

Sami looked up and met Jey’s eyes, so full of love it made his chest pang. “I know. Kinda hard to be ashamed of someone when you’re pounding them into the mattress,” he joked.

Jey laughed. “I hope you know how much I love you and your appearance. Just…I’m happy that you’re seein’ what I’m seein’ now.”

“I'm not sure,” Sami gave Jey a lopsided smile, “maybe another example wouldn’t hurt?”

“It doesn’t take much to tempt me, Sami Zayn, especially when it comes to you,” Jey said. It was intended to be a warning, at least Sami thought so. He didn’t really care anyway.

The redhead stretched his arms out and made a grabbing motion, wanting to be the one to hold Jey. He understood, climbing in with him and laying his back against Sami’s stomach. Sami breathed in the smell of sweat and arousal in Jey’s black curls and was filled with content. It didn’t matter what the idiots on the internet said; as long as he had Jey, he was happy.

#jey uso #sami zayn #samijey #fanfic

23 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 11 months ago

Note

FINALLY SOMEONE BRINGS UP HANAHAKI WITH YANDERES, THEY'RE SUCH A GOOD COMBO THAT I NEVER SEE!

The best part of Hanahaki is just how many different variations there are to it imo.

For example for it to form does one have to actually get rejected? Or does assuming you will be, or them actually just not liking you work too?(imagine finding out your crush doesn't return your feeling by getting Hanahaki, quite literally the worst way to find out)

Is it fatal or just stay till you move on or they reciprocate? Does the surgery exist and if so what are the after effects if any(usually loss of feeling and/or memory of crush, or feelings as a whole)? Would the disease scar/ruin your lungs?

An idea I've had for Hanahaki is someone having to go back repeatedly for the same surgery because they either keep falling for or never fall out of love. Meanwhile their lungs just keep getting worse from their constant surgeries and the plants....

NO SHUT UP BECAUSE THE MOST PAINFUL HANAHAKI TROPES ARE "you can have surgery to cure it but you'll forget all your memories of the person you love" OR "you're dying BECAUSE they don't return your feelings and there's no way to save you even if you confess you're just dying knowing they don't love you back" and now that I think about it it was specifically the ultra sad fics that kind of drove me away from the trope, but.... it has its uses....

A yandere begging you to have the surgery to forget about how much you love them so you can live, and you'd rather die than forget all the time you've spent with them, what they mean to you, especially if they're your only friend or someone you've had all your life. Your yandere knocking you out and having you operated on against your consent, taking your love away, so you can live, even if it breaks their own heart, crying as they know you LOVED them but, soon won't even remember their name...

A yandere who, very happily actually, forces you to have the forgetting surgery because it's SOMEONE ELSE you love, not them, and once that person is out of the picture, well, your savior has a greater chance at truly wooing you, don't they?

A yandere who develops hanahaki and HAS to have the surgery to live, they can't protect you if they're dead, but they circumvent the amnesia by recording tons of videos first, talking all about you, about your times together, their memories of you, how much they love you, which things, why, and once they've forgotten you, they watch those tapes and their passion is ignited all over again

IMAGINE A DANGEROUS YANDERE FINALLY FORCED INTO HAVING THE SURGERY AND YOU THINK YOU'RE SAFE BECAUSE THEY SHOULDN'T LOVE OR EVEN REMEMBER YOU ANYMORE BUT NO IT WAS PART OF THE PLAN TO LOWER YOUR GUARD AND TAKE YOU--

Yandere who use their knowledge of you previously loving them to lovingly recreate events in the past that caused you to fall for them, lowkey manipulating you into loving them again by tweaking little behaviors or doing specific things, being genuine but, measured, practiced, calculating

Yandere who are like "you know what? Watching you nearly kill yourself with this totally preventable disease that couldve been cured by an immediate 'i love you' which i obviously would've accepted has actually completely cemented my own delusions about you absolutely 100% literally needing me to survive and you're gonna live under my roof and my constant supervision now :)"

Honestly just the potential like... plot and obsessive potential from the yandere from you almost dying. Like. What obsessed manic possessive lover wouldn't absolutely dial up their behavior and devotion after almost losing you? What kind of self proclaimed hero wouldn't bend over backwards to cater to your every need when they see you so weak and wheezing and needing medicines and special care and maybe even mobility aids now? Can you imagine something horrible like, the hanahaki damaging your lungs to the point you temporarily or permanantly get winded with prolonged exercise and need a wheelchair for longer walks? Or it weakens your body so much you develop allergies or autoimmune issues?

There's just so much GUILT POTENTIAL too. Here's your stalker thinking they knew every little nook and cranny of your mind, obsessively collecting every last detail of your life, and they didn't know you loved them? Loved them so much you got sick for them? AND you were so scared and assured they would reject you, they wouldnt love you, the thought of which hurt you so much, you would rather die than hear them turn you away? Certain yanderes would CRY, they're like, begging for forgiveness at their secret closet altar of you, saying they WRONGED YOU, they PROMISE THEY'RE DEVOTED TO YOU, they'll spend the rest of their life proving it with every ounce of their heart, PLEASE let them prove it--

Of course I also can't help but think. You confess to cure your hanahaki and your yandere accepts you, but then once you're in their house and getting to REALLY know them, you're INSTANTLY "um actually this is. Gross. I'm not attracted to you at all anymore and actually now our entire friendship all these years feels fucking tainted and creepy because I was looking at you with love and you were like. Taking photos of me sleeping and stealing bristles from my toothbrush the entire time"

Finally, because we are so dramatic. We've discussed fandoms on here before where the series can delve into multiverse shit like Spiderverse or Justice League stuff. Imagine a version of your yandere from another universe coming after you because they watched their version of you wither up and die from refusing to confess but the yandere found out their feelings afterwards anyways and it drove them to their breaking point 💀like maybe your universe's version of this person is actually totally normal for you, but, in the acts of defeating this new threat, they realize how easy it would be for someone to hurt you, TAKE YOU AWAY, and one day after the battle to defeat the doppelganger is over, you're looking over at your friend and smiling, and they wait for you to turn your back until *cough* a few little petals fall to the floor....

#yandere stuff #yancore #yandere x reader #sinprompts

78 notes · View notes

gt-abby · 2 months ago

Text

Mar and Jake Chapter 12

The time has come for me to post the next chapter!

Tag list: @soakedmilkgt

Chapter eleven chapter twelve (you’re here) chapter thirteen

——- 2k words~

“Hello?” Mar found herself in the void again. Score. She never thought in her life that she’d be willingly going to the fire deity and asking for help- but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The god appeared in a fire tornado, luckily in mar’s size and not it’s giant form.

“Have you finally decided to join me?” They asked hopefully.

“You don’t have any idea what’s happening in the outside world, right? Well, people who either worship or despise you kidnapped me and are holding me hostage. What do you need me to do so I could break out?”

“I’ve had many followers over the years, but as of the last millennia they have been dwindling in your world.”

“Yeah, spare me the backstory, tell me what can I do to gain more powers? I need to escape. I don’t know what they have planned for me, and I don’t care to stay long enough to find out.”

The deity thought for a moment. It seems they hadn’t thought about it, for the however long they have been caged in this place. Then they smiled.

“I will help you and give you more of my powers and in exchange, when I am ready, I have your approval to take over.”

Mar was confused. “Take over?”

“Yes. Sooner or later, you will fulfill your role as my host. With your approval, I will be able to fulfill it sooner, and with no resistance on your end.”

This was… wow… too much to ask for. But Mar was desperate. She was so angry, so so desperate for freedom, she barely even thought of how she was taking away her freedom in the future. And she shook the god’s hand. Just when she was about to let go, their hands caught on fire. Mar screamed, but she was unable to let go, as if their hands were glued together. Then, the god’s body began disappearing, phasing through it’s own hand and into Mar’s as they laughed and Mar screamed. When it was over, Mar’s heart was glowing, so much so it was visible out of her body and she could see her own rib cage in a silhouette as her chest glowed. She fell to her knees and coughed up smoke. Then, she woke up.

Her eyes opened wide as she felt her chest burn and she coughed so hard, she felt like blood might spill out at any moment. Something about her felt weird. She felt… different. Her shadow was different, too. From the light that came in from the tiny window, her shadow showed two things sticking out of her head, she raised her hand to touch whatever was on her head but when it arrived at her face, she saw it was much paler than before, almost completely white. Flipping it over to her palm there was a giant (relatively) nasty burn in the middle. It was still hurting. On the other hand, she wasn’t feeling the usual pain in her broken leg. She looked down on it and moved it. It felt completely healthy. She tried standing up, slowly, and as she thought, it was healed. So in the bargain she was able to heal her injury, but the deal itself created a seal on her palm, that was so fresh her layers of skin were pink and showing. That wasn’t something magic could heal. With her other hand, shaking, she finally touched the things sticking out of her head. She gasped. Those were horns. She had horns on her head. Like a demon. Holding one and moving it caused her head to be moved, too. It was attached to her.

So because of the bargain, her body had been changed completely. She’d become a monster. But before she could think, footsteps came, and a guard looked through the barred window to look for the reason of the scream. He saw her with his giant brown eye and narrowed it down when he saw the change she had been through.

“Contact the Director ASAP. Something has happened to the specimen.” She heard him say to his radio and quickly closed the window. Mar was a left in darkness, unable to know what happens outside. But there was a glow coming off of the top of her head. So her horns could glow in the dark, too, that’s great. No other powerful power seemed to have come to Mar yet. So she couldn’t escape yet. She was still at their mercy.

Not too long later, Mar was taken for evaluation in their medical wing, still in her cage. She assumed that’s where they took care of her broken leg. But now, they scanned her and saw it was no longer broken so they cut open the cast and bandaged her hand. The Director didn’t pay much mind to Mar’s protests and squirms. Mar was guessing they put a shock collar on her neck to prevent her from retaliating or escaping, so she dared not do anything to activate it. She wanted to live, after all. She looked up through narrowed brows at the Director, who watched her every action as they bandaged her palm with tweezers. The person tending to her wounds was blank faced and experienced in tending to tiny wounds. Mar guessed there were more tiny people in here that they were keeping. She couldn’t leave them behind. But was the deity using multiple people at the same time or were they “failed hosts”? she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be able to find out. Either way, she was a successful host and the god could take over any minute. She wasn’t going to tell the Director that, though. They might put her in a more protected cell to prevent that from happening, and then she would really not be able to escape.

“I hope nothing like this would happen again, little Mar.” The Director suddenly said. Mar looked up at her with a blank expression.

“Well it’s not like I can help it, you know. There’s a parasite in me and it does what it wants, after all.”

“Doesn’t matter, you know better than to retaliate. Or am I wrong?”

“Hmpf.”

When the doctor finished tending to her, they moved her to a different room. It wasn’t her cell again. They then chained her to a table.

“What is this?” she asked as they pinned her head to the table, and she was no longer able to move at all. Suddenly, the shock collar has fallen off and made a tiny clanking sound as it fell to the ground. Mar’s eyes darted across her field of vision.

“No one has ever changed appearances like you before,” the Director’s voice was heard from speakers that hung from the ceiling. “We’re going to have to run some tests.” Her voice was cold and unfeeling, and the doctor that took care of her earlier appeared in her field of vision with a small knife.

“Wait, no- y-you can’t do this! You need me! You-“ her words were cut off by her screams.

First thing in the morning, Jake threw on some clothes and didn’t even bother to have breakfast before showing up in the living room to wake up Emily so they could leave. She at first protested, but after waking up fully, she jumped off the couch and walked out the front door with Jake, grabbing Mar’s phone before locking the door and practically running towards their destination.

“That’s… just an electronics store.” Jake said disappointedly as he parked the car in front of it.

“Yeah, but it’s my uncle. He’ll help us extract the data from the phone and find Mar’s parents’ numbers at no cost. He’s an expert, he’ll be able to do it in no time.” And with that, she left the vehicle. Jake soon followed, still a bit skeptical. Entering the store, he at first didn’t see anyone. It looked generic, with walls covered in phone cases and a front desk made out of glass, several electronics stored inside it.

“Uncle Mark!!” Emily shouted, a little too loud for the small room they were in. They heard a “youch!” and a zap from behind a curtain covering a door frame, then a man in his 50’s appeared behind the desk, shaking his hand in the air.

“Hey, Little Em, how’s it going?” he forced a smile as he took some sort of gel container and rubbed some on his finger then wrapped it in a bandage.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were working on something back there.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about me.”

“I need a favor.” She placed Mar’s broken phone on the counter. “can you get a few phone numbers out of this?”

“Wow, what happened to it? Looks almost like a car ran it over” he chuckled as he looked it over. “But yes, I can, just let me-“he opened it up and began expertly working on it.

After a while, Jake began walking in circles. He was impatient but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to rush the man, but the clock was ticking. The sooner they can get to Mar the better, and this was their only lead. If her parents don’t have any information, they would be at a dead end.

He began thinking about what else they could do to find out where she was. Maybe there was something on the internet about tiny people? Or the fire god she kept talking about. He opened his phone and began searching. Emily, on the other hand, watched her uncle carefully. She already knew what he was doing, as he showed her once when she was younger. She looked over at Jake, seeing his leg was bouncing up and down at maximum speed. He must be so scared. She was too, but she had to be the voice of reason against his tendency to rush things. He had to be patient, or else nothing would come of it. the way the apartment looked when she first came in when he called her, there was no way those people that took Mar had her best interest at heart. No one who kidnaps a person has any care for the person they are taking. And when it’s a tiny person, at that, they can absolutely do anything they want to her with little protest from her. They also seemed to be thorough people, that knew how to kidnap. Leaving no evidence behind and even destroying anything that could incriminate them.

“Ah! Luckily the data bank wasn’t damaged. Whose phone numbers do you need? I’ll be able to extract them in just a moment…” he did something with the parts of the phone and connected it to his computer.

“The parents, her mom and her dad.” Emily said, and with a couple of types they popped up on his computer screen. He wrote them on a piece of paper and handed it to Emily.

“Thanks, Mark! You’re the best.” They hugged as Jake took the note from Emily and stared at it.

Later, they sat in his car under their apartment complex, his finger hovering above the call button. He thought back to when Mar first called her mother, who promptly hung up on her upon realizing she was shrunk. Then, he remembered what Mar told him about her second call with her parents- how they told her that they made a deal with the devil on her life just so they could have a kid. It didn’t make sense, though. Why would they want a child to raise if it wasn’t there to grow to full maturity? Do they see her as a pet? How were they when she was a child? So many questions threw themselves at him and he had no answer to any of them. They were cut short with Emily poking her finger on his cheek. He looked at her as she smiled at him, reassuringly.

“It WILL be okay, Jake.”

“Yeah. Yeah! It’ll be okay. We’ll find her.” He breathed out heavily and pressed the button before he could regret it.

#g/t #g/t community #giant tiny #gt community #sfw g/t #size difference #sfw gt #original characters #oc: mar #oc: Jake #oc: Emily #gt writing #writers on tumbler #g/t writing club #original story #mar and jake #mar and Jake chapter twelve

15 notes · View notes

venusandsaturnsrings · 2 years ago

Note

listen ik I have like 2 asks sent already but chubby darling is my beloved :(( so I shall feed you again.... since yk chub makes everything 10 times better <33

CHUBBY CRYBABY DARLING <3333

Always sobbing when incel childe teases her or when the slightest thing goes wrong :(( omg imagine her sobbing because the lingerie incel childe got her was a bit too tight :((( her pudge is more visible esp on her thighs where you can see the chub bulging out the top of her tights :((( she sobs whe she sees how big childe is down there bcs "it won't fit! it won't fit!" or hoe she sobs when taking it in :(((( all you have to do is sob that you want something and he'll have it at ur door that night </3 imagine him paying people to bully you just so you'll run to him for help (ofc even if he was the one that told then too they won't be unpunished) :(( he just thinks ur SO cute sobbing ur little heart out :((( he stands behind you everywhere you go like a guard dog since your so fragile:((

Honestly at this point childe can fuck off I wanna make out with chubby darling <33 opinion on me writing a bit of Doberman hybrid childe with chubby gf next!?!

UR SO REAL FOR THIS… i understand her. i sob over nothing as well and live to be coddled…

he’s just… so manipulative. gets hard seeing you cry so why wouldn’t he strive to make you cry more? he’s a porn addicted coomer that wants your tears as lube. setting up some of his online friends to hurl insults at you just to watch your lips tremble before the tears spill over, scooping you into his boney arms with a soft “c’mere, doll. what’s up?” as if he didn’t orchestrate this himself. inceltaru is just so mean like that! wants his sweet dolly girlfriend to cling onto him everywhere they go for comfort. wants her to depend on him with shaky knees and wet eyelashes. wants her to be his; mind, body, and soul. maybe it’s selfish but how can you blame him when you’re just so cute?

also definitely the type to have religiously measured his cock since his teen years. knows the length and girth down to the millimeter. he’s very aware it’s big and has no problem flaunting that but loves it most when your letting your warbled cries about how it’s not gonna fit :( he almost takes mercy on you but… stretching your cute cunny open is more important. it’ll hurt at first but he’s gonna make you feel good! so keep the tears rolling until you’re too cockdrunk to think!

#cw: incel #incel childe #oh my beloved inceltaru…#he’s everything i want :((#i am the crybaby gf he needs i’ll sob while sucking him off #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #chubby darling anon my beloved <3 #chubby reader #fem reader #afab reader #chit chats

267 notes · View notes

pelagaye · 1 year ago

Text

hair as silver as coins

fandom: honkai star rail pairing: jing yuan x reader summary: jing yuan would be the fairest one of them all among everyone from the six flagships, if only you can tell him that is. no matter, his lazy demeanor and unbelievable appeal are two reasons to keep it to yourself. it takes one walk to change your mind. notes: this fic is inspired by snow white but it isn't an au of it. you'll def see some refs if you squint tho !! n e ways i dedicate this to my cousin who is obsessed w this man. he said he really had fun reading it so i hope that you guys do too ^^

the interrogation begins once the both of you were far enough from the populated areas of the luofu and the setting was simple. jing yuan’s back facing you, he who has coerced to follow him through the evergreens and tall grass. then there was you, who doesn’t mind if you end up collapsing from the strong warmth of the beams above any second now knowing the jing yuan would have no choice but to carry you back.

“lady fu does not take your irresponsibility lightly, general, you are aware of that, yes?” you claim, pushing away an overgrowing tree branch.

"ah, that is very spot on of you, my dear. remind me to commend the master diviner herself," he turns his head to the side catching a glance of you, "however, i do not see how it should affect our delightful stroll. do you not enjoy it yourself?"

the way how jing yuan easily dismisses your question leaves you incapable to suppress an upcoming groan. you swear he does these things on purpose. the audacity of him to call you "dear" is one of them of course, like, who even does that?

"anyone would agree that they too do not see such form of ecstacy with the overflowing papers on your desk, my general," matching up his pace, further reasoning with him. "your seven sparrows don't even make your situation lighter as they enable your procrastination."

"centuries would tell you otherwise. besides, if i were anyone else, i'd assume you were simply jealous of my feathered friends," jing yuan chuckles. "but as *i am* your general, it is alluring to me how you noted their exact numbers, this is exactly why i tell them about you."

he proceeds to tells you that you're nearing your destination but your mind is racing nonstop over the little things:

one, he noticed you referred to him as "my general" when you assumed he'd let it pass. two, he gossips you to the sparrows and although it catches you off guard because who talks to sparrows, you can only hope they're only good things.

—

you immediately detect the pride that surfaces on jing yuan's expression the moment he presents to you the main attraction of your walk.

in front of you stands a sturdy structure of a well. nothing too old but certainly not close to modernity. you wonder if you were just there to get a pail of water and bring it back to the luofu like a mad woman, a strange request not uncommon for the general with you.

he remains sensible, however. "finally" being the general he is supposed to be, you jest. jing yuan laughs at your retort after suggesting you look deeper into the well, promising to not push you down if you ever accuse him to.

so you do trust him, with all of your heart, because what choice do you have when he has already a hold of it way before all of this.

it takes you one peek before jing yuan follows behind you, almost making you- makes you want to believe he intentionally trapped you between the water reservoir and his body as he relaxes his head over your shoulder.

it is not explicit in any way but for safety measures, you remain motionless as you let your heart execute all the remaining movement you can muster.

"this well has become quite special to me for these past years of becoming an arbiter-general," his narrative begins. "you see, if your vision can reach the exact position where its liquid is, you can catch a clear reflection of yourself, no ripples to destroy the image you hold."

this provides you the courage to turn to him with a smirk. "is this your narcissism talking?"

"not particularly, i just like looking at it to remind how after all these years, i am still the same person i have made myself to be." he grins back. "but yes, there may be times i enjoy staring at myself, do you not do the same?"

was the question supposed mean if you enjoy staring at yourself or was it implying if you like staring at him? you will never understand. why does the general like complicating your life like this.

as you discreetly push the question aside, you ask a more important question.

"have i ever made a wish with it? what do you suppose to mean with that?" jing yuan questions.

fumbling with your pockets, you present a single gold coin to the man before you as you turned around, breaking the source of warmth you were getting from each other. "in other planets, you'd make a wish and throw this in the well as if it were some peace offering and hope it comes true!"

"ah~ i seem to understand it better now," the male exclaims. "then i must wish that lady fu does not poison me in any way~"

a laugh escapes your mouth. "and how do you suspect lady fu is to poison you, general jing yuan? she's too prideful for that sort of lousy play, how do you even expect her to execute that?"

"anything can happen, my dear! she might as well use a single apple to make things easier!" jing yuan continues the banter. "but i wouldn't fret knowing you'd be there, i'm sure you'd help break my curse! unless- you are to work alongside with that divinator then i will never get my true love's kiss!"

your heart starts doing its own thing again while your breathe hitches for a moment, unsure if you were in the right mind to respond. "how bold of you to think it's a true love that can only break such intoxication, general."

and out of the blue, jing yuan holds you close as his hands reaches for your cheeks. he stares at you with the utmost adoration that you had been denying for so long but despite it all, it's evidently there.

"that may be correct but at least," his face coming closer to your own. "even without a kiss, i am more than sure about my true love."

#HII GUYS IM NOT DEAD i just . sorta forgot this account due to preparations for college and stuff happening in life in general #anyways #it was p fun !! writing this !! rly challenged me big time #even had a whiteboard for me to dump all the snow white story references i wanted use in this fic heehee #idk why it took me so long to post SORRYY #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x you

115 notes · View notes